Essays of Michael, seigneur de Montaigne in three books, with marginal notes and quotations of the cited authors, and an account of the author's life / new rendered into English by Charles Cotton, Esq.

ESSAYS OF Michael Seigneur de Montaigne. (Book 3)

The Third BOOK. (Book 3)

CHAP. I. Of Profit and Honesty.

NO Man is free from speaking foolish things; but the worst on't is, when a Man studies to play the Fool.

Ne iste magno conatu, magnas nugas dixerit.* 1.1

Lest it with him do come to pass, To take great Pains to be an Ass.

This does not concern me, mine slip from me with as little care as they are of little va∣lue, and 'tis the better for them. I would pre∣sently part with them for what they are worth, and neither buy nor sell them, but as they

weigh. I speak in Paper, as I do to the first I meet, and that this is true, observe what fol∣lows. To whom ought not Treachery to be hateful, when Tyberius refus'd it in a thing of so great Importance to him?* 1.2 He had word sent him from Germany, that if he thought fit, they would rid him of Ariminius, the most potent Enemy the Romans had, by Poyson. He return'd answer, That the People of Rome were wont to revenge themselves of their Enemies by open ways, and with their Swords in their hands, and not clandestinely, and by Fraud. Wherein he quitted the utile for the honest. You will tell me that he was a Deceiver, and did not speak as he thought; I believe so too: and 'tis no great Miracle in Men of his Profes∣sion. But the acknowledgement of Virtue, is not less valid in the Mouth of him that hates it, for as much as truth forces it from him, and if he will not inwardly receive it, he at least puts it on, and with it makes himself outwardly fine. Our outward and inward Structure is full of imperfection, but there is nothing use∣less in Nature, not so much as Inutility it self; nothing has insinuated it self into this Vniverse, that has not therein some fit and proper place. Our Being is cemented with sickly Qualities, Ambition, Jealousie, Envy, Revenge, Superstition and Despair, have so natural a Possession in us, that the Image is discern'd in Beasts: Nay, and Cruelty, so unnatural a Vice, for even in the midst of Compassion, we feel within I know not what tart-sweet titillation of ill-natur'd

Pleasure in seeing others suffer, and the Chil∣dren feel it:

Suave meri magno turbantibus aequora ventis,* 1.3 Et Terra magnum alterius spectare laborem.

'Tis sweet from Land to see a Storm at Sea, And others sinking, whilst our selves are free.

of the Seeds of which Qualities, whoever should divest man, would destroy the Funda∣mental Conditions of human Life: Likewise in all Governments there are necessary Offices,* 1.4 not only abject, but vicious also. Vices have there a help to make up the seam in our pie∣cing; as Poysons are useful for the Conservati∣on of Health. If they become excusable because they are of use to us, and that the common Necessity covers their true Qualities: we are to resign this part to the strongest and boldest Citizens, who sacrifice their Honour and Con∣science, as others of old sacrific'd their Lives for the good of their Country: We who are weaker, take upon us the parts of Actions, both that are more easie, and less hazardous: the publick Weal requires that a Man should betray, and lye, and massacre; let us leave this Commission to Men that are more obedient, and more supple. In earnest, I have often been troubled to see Judges by Fraud, and false hopes of Favour or Pardon, allure a Criminal to confess his Fact, and therein to make use of Cozenage and Impudence. It would become

Justice, and Plato himself, who countenances this manner of proceeding, to furnish me with other means more suitable to my own liking. This is a malicious kind of Justice, and I look upon it as no less violated by it self than by others. I said not long since to some company in Dis∣course, that I should hardly be drawn to betray my Prince for a particular Man, who should be very much asham'd to betray any particular Man for my Prince; and do not only hate deceiving my self, but that any one should deceive through me; I will neither afford matter nor occasion to any such thing. In the little I have had to mediate betwixt our Princes in the Divisions and Subdivisions, by which we are at this time torn to pieces, I have been very careful that they should neither be deceiv'd in me, nor de∣ceive others by me: People of that kind of trading are very reserv'd, and pretend to be the most moderate imaginable, and nearest to the Opinions of those with whom they have to do; I expose my self in my true Opinion, and af∣ter a method the most my own; a young and tender Negotiator, and one who had rather fail in the Affair than be wanting to my Self: And yet it has been hitherto with so good luck, (for Fortune has doubtless the best share in it) that little has past from hand to hand with less su∣spition, or more favour and privacy. I have a free and open way that easily insinuates it self, and obtains belief with those with whom I am to deal at the first meeting. Sincerity and pure Truth, in what Age sover pass for current;

and besides, the liberty and freedom of a Man who treats without any Interest of his own, is never hateful or suspected, and he may very well make use of the Answer of Hipperides to the Athenians, who complain'd of his blunt way of speaking. My Masters, do not consider whe∣ther or no I am free, but whether I am so without a Bribe, or without any advantage to my own Af∣fairs. My liberty of Speaking has also easily clear'd me from all suspition of dissembling by its vehemency, (leaving nothing unsaid how home and bitter soever, so that I could have said no worse behind their backs) and in that it carried along with it a manifest shew of sim∣plicity and negligence. I pretend to no other fruit by acting than to Act, and add to it no long pursuit nor proposals; every action plays its own Game, win if it can. As to the rest, I am not sway'd by any Passion either of love or hatred towards the great ones, nor have my Will captivated either by particular injury or obligation. I look upon our King with an affection simply loyal and respective, nei∣ther prompted on nor restrain'd by any pri∣vate Interest, and I love my self for it. Neither does the general and just Cause attract me other∣wise than with moderation, and without Ani∣mosity. I am not subject to these penetrating and entirely affected Engagements. Anger and Ha∣tred are beyond the duty of Justice, and are Passions only useful to those who do not keep themselves strictly to their duty by meer Rea∣son. Vtatur motu animi, qui uti ratione non po∣test.

He only employs his Passion that can make no use of his Reason. All just intentions are tem∣perate of themselves; if otherwise, they de∣generate into Seditious and unlawful. This is it which makes me walk every where with my Head erect, my Face and my Heart open. To confess the Truth, and I am not afraid to confess it; I should easily for need hold up one Candle to St. Michael and another to his Dra∣gon, like the old Woman; I will follow the right side even to the fire, but exclusively if I can: Let Montaigne be over-whelm'd in the publick Ruin, if need be; but if there be no need, I should think my self oblig'd to For∣tune to save me, and I will make use of all the length of line my duty allows for his preser∣vation: Was it not Atticus, who being of the just, but losing side, preserved himself by his moderation, in that universal shipwrack of the World amongst so many mutations and diver∣sities? For private men, as he was, it is more easie;* 1.5 and in such kind of work, I find a man may justly not be ambitious to offer and in∣sinuate himself; for a man indeed to be wa∣vering and irresolute, to keep his affection un∣mov'd, and without inclination in the Trou∣bles of his Country, and a publick Division, I neither think it handsome nor honest.* 1.6 Ea non media, sed nulla via est, velut eventum expectan∣tum, quo Fortunae consilia sua applicent. That is not a middle way, but no way, to expect Events by which they referr their resolutions to Fortune. This may be allow'd in our Neighbours Af∣fairs,

and thus Gelo the Tyrant of Syracusa su∣spended his inclination in the War betwixt the Greeks and Barbarians, keeping a Resident Embassador with Presents at Delphos, to lye and watch to see which way Fortune would in∣cline, and then take present occasion to fall in with the Victors. It would be a kind of Trea∣son to proceed after this manner in our own domestick Affairs, wherein a man must of ne∣cessity be of the one side or the other; though for a Man who has no Office or express com∣mand to call him out, to sit still, I hold it more excusable (and yet I do not excuse my self up∣on these terms) except in Foreign Expediti∣ons, to which also, according to our Laws, no man is prest against his will. And yet even those who wholly engage themselves in such a War, may behave themselves with such tem∣per and moderation, that 'tis likely the storm may fly over their heads without doing them any harm. Had we not reason to expect such an issue in the Person of the late Sieur de Mor∣villiers, late Bishop of Orleans? And I know amongst those who behave themselves the most bravely and briskly in the present War, some whose Manners are so gentle, obliging, and just, that they will certainly stand firm what∣ever Event Heaven is preparing for us. I am of Opinion, that it properly belongs to Kings only to quarrel Kings, and laugh at those Bul∣ly-Rocks, that out of wantonness of Courage, present themselves to so disproportion'd di∣sputes: for a Man has never the more particu∣lar

quarrel to a Prince, for marching openly and boldly against him for his own Honour, and according to his Duty: if he does not love such a Person, he does better he has a Reverence and Esteem for him. And the Cause of defending the Laws, and the Ancient Government of a Kingdom, has this always especially annext to it, that even those, who for their own private Interest invade them, excuse, if they do not honour the Defenders. But we are not, as we now a days do, to call pievishness and inward discontent, that spring from private Interest and passion, Duty, nor a treacherous and malitious conduct, Courage. They call their propension to mischief and vio∣lence, Zeal: 'tis not the Cause, but their In∣terest that inflames them. They kindle and be∣gin a War, not because it is just, but because it is War. A Man may very well behave himself commodiously and loyally too, amongst those of the adverse Party; carry your self, if not with the same equal affection (for that is capa∣ble of different measures) at least, with an af∣fection moderate, well temper'd, and such as shall not so engage you to one Party, that it may expect all you are able to do for that side, and content your self also with a moderate pro∣portion of their Favour and good Will, and to swim in troubled Waters without fishing in them. The other way of offering a man's self, and the utmost Service he is able to do, both to one Party and the other, has yet in it less of Prudence than Conscience. Does not

he to whom you betray another, to whom you was as welcome as to himself, know that you will at another time do as much for him? He holds you for a Villain; and in the mean time hears what you will say, gathers intelligence from you, and works his own ends out of your disloyalty;* 1.7 for double-dealing men are use∣full in bringing in, but we must have a care they carry out as little as is possible. I say no∣thing to one Party, that I may not upon oc∣casion say to the other, with a little alteration of accent, and report nothing but things either indifferent or known, or what is of common Consequence. I cannot permit my self for any consideration to tell them a Lye. What is in∣trusted to my secrecy, I religiously conceal; but I take as few trusts of that nature upon me as I can. The Secrets of Princes are a trouble∣some burthen to such as are not interested in them. I very willingly indent that they trust me with little, but confidently rely upon what I tell them: I have ever known more than I desir'd. One open way of speaking opens ano∣ther open way of speaking, and draws out dis∣coveries like Wine and Love. Phillipides, in my Opinion, answer'd King Lysimacus very dis∣creetly, who asking him what of his Estate he should bestow upon him? What you will, said he, provided it be none of your Secrets. I see every one mutters, and is displeased, if the bottom of the Affair be conceal'd from him wherein he is employ'd, or that there be any reservation in the thing; for my part, I am content to know

no more of the business than what they desire I should employ my self in, nor desire that my Knowledge should exceed or strain my word: If I must serve for an Instrument of deceit, let it be at least with a safe Conscience. I will nei∣ther be reputed a Servant so affectionate, nor so loyal, as to be fit to betray any one. Who is unfaithful to himself, is excusably so to his Master. But they are Princes who do not ac∣cept men by halves, and despise limited and conditional Services. I cannot help it, I truly tell them how far I can go; for a Slave I should not be, but upon very good Reason, and however I could hardly submit to that Condition. And they also are too blame to exact from a Free-man the same Subjection and Obligation to their Service, they do from him they have made, and bought, or whose Fortune does particularly and expresly depend upon theirs. The Laws have delivered me from a great Anxiety, they have chosen a Master for me, all other Superi∣ority and Obligation ought to be relative to him, and cut off from all other. Yet is not this to say, that if my Affection should otherwise sway and incline me, my hand should pre∣sently obey it; the Will and Desire are a Law to themselves; but Actions must receive Com∣mission from the publick appointment. All this proceeding of mine is a little dissonant from the ordinary forms; It would produce no great Effects, nor be of any long duration; Innocence it self could not, in this Age of ours, either Negotiate without Dissimulation, or

Traffick without Lying. And indeed publick Employments are by no means for my Pallat: what my Profession requires, I perform after the most private manner that I can. Being young, I was engag'd up to the Ears in Business, and it succeeded well, but I disengag'd my self in due time. I have often since avoided med∣ling in it, rarely accepted, and never ask'd it, keeping my back still turn'd to Ambition: but if not like Rowers, who so advance backward, yet so nevertheless, that I am less oblig'd to my Resolution than to my good Fortune, that I was not wholly embark'd in it. For there are ways less displeasing to my Taste, and more sui∣table to my Ability, by which, if she had for∣merly call'd me to the publick Service, and my own Advancement towards the Worlds Opinion, I know I should, in spite of all my own Arguments to the contrary, have pursued them. Such as commonly say, in Opposition to what I profess, that what I call Freedom, Simplicity, and plainness in my Manners, is Art, and Subtilty, and rather Prudence than Good∣ness, Industry than Nature, good Sence than good Luck, do me more Honour than Dis∣grace: but doubtless they make my Subtilty too subtle; and whoever has follow'd me close, and pry'd narrowly into me, I will give him the Victory, if he does not confess that there is no Rule in their School that could match this natural Motion, and maintain an apparence of Liberty and Licence so equal and inflexible, through so many various and crooked Paths,

and that all their Wit and Endeavour could never have led them through. The way of Truth is one, and simple, that of particular Profit, and the Commodity of Affairs a man is intrusted with, is double, unequal, and casual. I have seen these counterfeit and artificial Li∣berties practic'd, but for the most part without Success. They relish of Aesop's Ass, who in Emulation of the Dog, obligingly clapt his two fore Feet upon his Master's shoulders; but as many caresses as the Dog had for such an expression of kindness, twice so many blows with a Cudgel had the poor Ass for his Com∣plement.* 1.8 Id maximè quemque decet, quod est cujusque suum maximè. That best becomes every man, that he is best at. I will not deprive De∣ceit of its due, that were but ill to understand the World: I know it has oft been of great use, and that it maintains and supplies most mens vacancies. There are Vices that are law∣ful, as there are many Actions either good, or at least excusable, that are not lawful in them∣selves. That Justice which in it self is natural and universal, is otherwise, and more nobly ordered, than that other Justice, which is pe∣culiar, National, and wrested to the ends of Government.* 1.9 Veri juris germanaeque Justi∣tiae solidam, & expressam effigiem nullam tene∣mus; umbra & imaginibus utimur. We retain no solid and express effigies of true right and Ju∣stice; we have only the shadow and images of it. Insomuch that the wise Dandamy's hearing the Lives of Socrates, Pythagoras and Diogenes

read, judg'd them to be great men every way, excepting that they were too much subjected to the reverence of the Laws, which to second and authorize, true Virtue must abate very much of its original vigour, and many vicious actions are introduc'd, not only by their per∣mission, but advice. Ex senatus consultis,* 1.10 plebisque scitis scelera exercentur. Vitious Actions are com∣mitted by the consent of the Magistrates and the common Laws. I follow the common Phrase, that distinguishes betwixt profitable, and ho∣nest things, so as to call some natural Actions, that are not only Profitable and Necessary, Dishonest, and Foul. But let us proceed in our Examples of Treachery: Two Pretenders to the Kingdom of Thrace, were fall'n into dispute about their Title; The Emperour hin∣dred them from proceeding to blows: but one of them under colour of bringing things to a friendly issue by an interview, having incited his concurrent to an Entertainment in his own House, took, and kill'd him. Justice requir'd that the Romans should have Satisfaction for this Offence: but there was a difficulty in ob∣taining it by ordinary ways. What therefore they could not do by due forms of Law, with∣out a War, and without Danger, they attempt∣ed to do by Treachery; and what they could not honestly do, they did profitably. For which end, one Pomponius Flaccus was found to be a fit Instrument: This Man by dissembled Words and assurance, having drawn the other into his Toyl, instead of the Honour and Fa∣vour

he had promis'd him, sent him bound Hand and Foot to Rome. Here one Traitor betray'd another, contrary to common Custom: for they are full of mistrust, and 'tis hard to over-reach them in their own Art: witness the sad Experience we have lately had. Let who will be Pomponius Flaccus, and there are enough that would: for my part, both my Word, and my Faith are like all the rest, parts of this common Body: their best effect is the publick Service, which I take for presuppos'd. But should one command me to take charge of the Palace, and the Records there, I should make answer, that I understood it not; or the com∣mand of a Conductor of Pioneers, I would say, that I was call'd to a more honourable Employment: so likewise, he that would em∣ploy me to lye, betray, and forswear my self, though not to assassinate, or to poison, for some notable Service, I should say, if I have rob'd, or stol'n any thing from any man, send me rather to the Galleys. For it is lawful for a Man of Honour to say as the Lacedemonians did, having been defeated by Antipater, when just upon the point of concluding an agree∣ment, You may impose as heavy and ruinous Taxes upon us as you please, but to command us to do shameful and dishonest things, you will lose your time, for it is to no purpose. Every one ought to make the same vow to himself, that the Kings of Egypt made their Judges solemn∣ly swear, that they would not do any thing contrary to their Consciences, though never

so much commanded to it by them themselves. In such Commissions, there is an evident mark of Ignominy and Condemnation. And he who gives it, does at the same time accuse you, and gives it, if you understand it right, for a Bur∣then and a Punishment. As much as the pub∣lick Affairs are better'd by your Exploit, so much are your own the worse, and the better you behave your self in it, 'tis so much the worse for your self. And it will be no new thing, nor peradventure without some colour of Justice, if the same Person ruin you who set you on work.* 1.11 If Treachery can be in any case excusable, it must be only so when it is practis'd to chastise and betray Treachery. There are Examples enow of Treacheries, not only rejected, but chastised, and punish'd by those in Favour of whom they were undertaken. Who is ignorant of Fabricius his Sentence against Pyrrhus, his Physician? But this we also find recorded, that some Persons have commanded a thing, who afterward have se∣verely reveng'd the Execution of it upon him they had employ'd, rejecting the Reputation of so unbridled an Authority, and disowning so lewd, and so base a Servitude and Obedi∣ence. Jaropele, Duke of Russia, tamper'd with a Gentleman of Hungary to betray Boleslaus King of Poland, either by killing him, or by giving the Russians opportunity to do him some notable Mischief. This Gallant goes presently in hand with it, was more assiduous in the Service of that King than before; so that he

obtain'd the honour to be of his Council, and one of the chiefest in his Trust; with these Advantages, and taking an opportune occasion of his Masters absence, he betray'd Visilicia, a great and rich City, to the Russians, which was entirely sack'd and burn't, and not only all the Inhabitants of both Sexes, young and old, put to the Sword, but moreover a great num∣ber of Neighbouring Gentry, that he had drawn thither to that wicked end. Jaropele, his Revenge being thus satisfied, and his Anger appeas'd, which was not however without pretence (for Boleslaus had highly offended him, and after the same manner) and sated with the effect of this Treachery, coming to consider the foulness of it, with a sound Judg∣ment, and clear from Passion, look'd upon what had been done with so much horror and remorse, that he caus'd the Eyes to be boar'd out, and the Tongue, and shameful Parts to be cut off of him that had perform'd it. An∣tigonus perswaded Agaraspides's Souldiers to betray Eumenes their General, his Adversary, into his hands. But after he had caus'd him so deliver'd to be slain, he would himself be the Commissioner of the Divine Justice, for the Punishment of so detestable a Crime, and committed them into the hands of the Gover∣nour of the Province, with express command by all means to destroy, and bring them all to an evil end. So that of all that great number of men, not so much as one ever return'd again into Macedonia. The better he had been serv'd,

the more wickedly he judg'd it to be, and meriting greater Punishment. The Slave that betray'd the place where his Master P. Sulpi∣tius lay conceal'd, was, according to the pro∣mise of Sylla's proscription,* 1.12 manumitted for his Pains: but according to the promise of the publick Justice, which was free from any such Engagement, he was thrown headlong from the Tarpeian Rock. And our King Clouis, in∣stead of the Arms of Gold he had promised them,* 1.13 caus'd three of Canacre's Servants to be hang'd after they had betray'd their Master to him, though he had debauch'd them to it. They hang'd them with the purse of their Re∣ward about their Necks. After having satis∣fied their second, and special faith, they satis∣fie the general, and first. Mahomet the second, being resolv'd to rid himself of his Brother, out of Jealousie of State, according to the Practice of the Ottoman Family, he employ'd one of his Officers in the Execution; who pouring a quantity of Water too fast into him, choak'd him. This being done, to expi∣ate the Murther, he deliver'd the Murtherer into the hands of the Mother of him he had so caus'd to be put to Death, (for they were but half Brothers by the Fathers side) who in his Presence ript up the Murtherers Bosom, and with her own revenging hands rifled his Breast for his Heart, tore it out, and threw it to the Dogs. And even to the vilest Dispositions, it is the sweetest thing imaginable, having once got the trick in a vicious Action, to foist, in

all security, into it some shew of Virtue and Justice, as by way of Compensation, and Con∣scientious Remorse. To which may be added, that they look upon the Ministers of such hor∣rid Crimes, as upon People that reproach them with them; and think by their Deaths to race out the Memory and Testimony of such Proceedings. Or if perhaps you are reward∣ed, not to frustrate the publick Necessity of that extream and desperate Remedy; he that does it, cannot for all that, if he be not such himself, but look upon you as a cursed and execrable fellow; and conclude you a greater Traytor, than he does against whom you are so: for he tries the Lewdness of your Dispo∣sition by your own hands; where he cannot possibly be deceiv'd, you having no Object of preceding hatred to move you to such an Act. But he employs you as they do condemn'd Malefactors in Executions of Justice, an Of∣fice as necessary as dishonest. Besides the baseness of such Commissions, there is more∣over a Prostitution of Conscience.* 1.14 Being the Daughter of Sejanus could not be put to death by the Law of Rome, because she was a Virgin, she was, to make it lawful, first ravish'd by the Hang-man, and then strangled: not only his hand, but his Soul is slave to the publick Convenience. When Amurath the first, more grievously to punish his Subjects, who had ta∣ken part in the Parricide Rebellion of his Son, ordain'd, that their nearest Kindred should as∣sist in the Execution; I find it very handsome

in some of them, to have rather chosen to be unjustly thought guilty of the Parricide of another, than to serve Justice by a Parricide of their own. And whereas I have seen at the taking of some little Fort by assault in my time, some Rascals, who to save their own Lives; would consent to hang their Friends and Com∣panions; I look upon them to be in a worse Condition than those that were hang'd. 'Tis said, that Wittoldus, Prince of Lituania, intro∣duc'd into that Nation, that the Criminal con∣demn'd to death,* 1.15 should with his own hand execute the Sentence: thinking it strange that a third Person, innocent of the Fault, should be made guilty of Homicide. A Prince, when by some urgent Circumstance, or some impe∣tuous and unforeseen accident that very much concerns his Estate, compell'd to forfeit his Word, and break his Faith, or otherwise forc'd from his ordinary Duty, ought to attribute this Necessity to a lash of the Divine Rod: Vice it is not, for he has given up his own Reason to a more Universal, and more pow∣erful Reason: but certainly 'tis a misfortune: so that if any one should ask me, What Reme∣dy? None, say I, if he were really rack'd be∣twixt these two Extreames,* 1.16 (sed videat ne quae∣ratur latebra perjurio) he must do it: but if he did it without regret, if it did not grieve him to do it, 'tis a sign his Conscience is in a scurvy Condition. If there be a Person to be found of so tender a Conscience as to think no cure whatever worth so important a Remedy, I

shall like him never the worse. He could not more excusably, or more decently perish. We cannot do all we would. So that we must of∣ten, as the last anchorage, commit the ••ro∣tection of our Vessels to the conduct of Hea∣ven. To what more just necessity does he re∣serve himself? What is less possible for him to do, than what he cannot do but at the expence of his Faith and Honour? Things that per∣haps ought to be dearer to him than his own Safety, or the Safety of his People. Though he should with folded arms only call God to his Assistance, has he not reason to hope that the Divine bounty will not refuse the Favour of an extraordinary Arm to just and pure hands? These are dangerous Examples, rare, and sickly exceptions to our natural Rules: we must yield to them, but with great Mode∣ration and Circumspection. No private utili∣ty is of such Importance, that we should up∣on that account strain our Consciences to such a degree: the publick may, when very mani∣fest, and of very great concern. Timoleon made a timely expiation for his strange Fact by the Tears he shed, calling to mind that it was with a fraternal hand that he had slain the Tyrant. And it justly prick'd his Conscience, that he had been necessitated to purchase the publick Utility at so great a price, as the violation of his own Manners. Even the Senate it self, by his means deliver'd from slavery, durst not po∣sitively determine of so high a Fact, and di∣vided into two so important, and contrary

Aspects. But the Syracusans, having opportune∣ly at the same time sent to the Corinthians to sollicit their Protection, and to require of them a Captain fit to restablish their City in its former Dignity, and to cleanse Sicile of se∣veral little Tyrants, by which it was opprest; they deputed Timoleon for that Service, with this cunning Declaration; That according as he should behave himself, well or ill in his Em∣ployment, their Sentence should incline either to favour the deliverer of his Country, or to disfavour the murtherer of his Brother. This fantastick Conclusion carries along with it some excuse, by reason of the danger of the Example, and the importance of so bifronted an Action: And they did well to discharge their own Judgment of it, and to referr it to others, who were not so much concern'd. But Timoleon's comportment in this Expedition soon made his Cause more clear; so worthily and virtuously he demean'd himself upon all occasions. And the good Fortune that accom∣panied him in the difficulties he had to over∣come in this noble Employment, seem'd to be strew'd in his way by the Gods, as favourably conspiring for his Justification. This Man's end is excusable, if any can be so. But the profit of the Augmentation of the publick Revenue, that serv'd the Roman Senate for a pretence to the foul conclusion I am going to relate, is not sufficient to warranty any such injustice.

Certain Cities had redeem'd themselves and their liberty by money, by the order and con∣sent

of the Senate, out of the hands of L. Sylla. The business coming again in question; the Senate condemn'd them to be taxable as they were before, and that the money they had disburs'd for their Redemption should be thrown away. Civil War does often produce such lewd Examples; that we punish private men for confiding in us when we were pub∣lick Ministers: and the self-same Magistrate makes another man pay the penalty of his change that cannot help it. The Paedagogue whips his Scholar for his docility, and the Guide beats the blind-man that he leads by the hands; a horrid image of Justice. There are Rules in Philosophy that are both false and weak. The Example that is propos'd to us, preferring private Utility before Faith given,* 1.17 has not weight enough by the Circumstance they put to it. Robbers have seiz'd you, and af∣ter having made you swear to pay them a cer∣tain sum of money, dismiss you. 'Tis not well done to say, that an honest man can be quit of Oath without payment, being out of their hands. 'Tis no such matter: What fear has once made me willing to do, I am oblig'd to do it when I am no more in fear. And though that fear only prevail'd with my Tongue, with∣out forcing my Will, yet am I bound to keep my Word. For my part, when my Tongue has sometimes inconsiderately said something that I did not think, I have made a Conscience of disowning it. Otherwise, by degrees we shall abolish all the right another pretends to

from our promise.* 1.18 Quasi vero forti viro vis pos∣sit adhiberi. As though a Man truly valiant could be compell'd. And 'tis only lawful upon the account of private Interest to excuse breach of Promise, when we have promis'd something that is unlawful and wicked in it self; For the right of Virtue ought to take place of the right of any obligation of ours. I have for∣merly plac'd Epaminondas in the first rank of excellent men, and do not repent it. How far did he stretch the consideration of his own particular Duty? who never kill'd man that he had overcome; who for his inestimable benefit of restoring the liberty of his Country, made Conscience of killing a Tyrant, or his accomplice, without due form of Justice: and who concluded him to be a wicked man, how good a Citizen soever otherwise, who amongst his Enemies spar'd not his Friend and Acquain∣tance in Battel. This was a Soul of a rich com∣posure: He married Bounty and Humanity; nay, even the tenderest and most delicate in the whole School of Philosophy, to the rudest and most violent of all humane Actions. Was it Nature or Art that had intenerated that great and brave Courage of his, so constant in dangers, and so obstinate against pain and death, to such an extreme degree of Sweetness and Compassi∣on? Dreadful in War, with fire and blood, he over-ran and subdu'd a Nation invincible to all others but to him alone; and yet in the heat of an Encounter could turn aside from his Friend. Certainly he was most fit to com∣mand

in War, who could so rein himself, with the curb of a good Nature, in the height and heat of his Fury, and a Fury so inflam'd and foaming with blood and slaughter. 'Tis almost a miracle to be able to mix any image of Ju∣stice with such violent Actions: and it was only possible for such a stedfastness of mind as that of Epaminondas, therein to mix sweet∣ness, and the facility of the gentlest Manners and purest Innocency. And whereas one told the Mammertines, that Statues were of no re∣sistance against armed men; and another told the Tribune of the People, that the time of Ju∣stice and War were distinct things; and a third said, that the noise of Arms deaft the voice of the Law: This man in all this rattle was not deaf to that of Civility, and meer Courtesie. Had he not borrow'd from his Enemies the cu∣stom of sacrificing to the Muses when he went to War, that they might by their sweetness and gayety soften his Martial and unrelenting Fu∣ry? Let us not fear, by the example of so great a Master, to believe that there is some∣thing unlawful, even against an Enemy: and that the common Concern ought not to require all things of all, against private Interest: Ma∣nente memoria etiam in dissidio publicorum faede∣rum privati juris:

* 1.19—& nulla potentia vires Praestandi, ne quid peccet amicus habet.

And no pow'r upon Earth can e're dispence Treachery to a Friend without Offence.

and that all things are not lawful to an honest man, for the Service of his Prince, the Laws, or the general Quarrel.* 1.20 Non enim patria prae∣stat omnibus officiis, & ipsi conducit pios habere Cives in Parentes. 'Tis an Instruction proper for the time wherein we live: we need not harden our Courages with these Arms of Steel, 'tis enough that our Souldiers are inur'd to them: 'tis enough to dip our Pens in Ink, without dipping them in Blood. If it be gran∣deur of Courage, and the effect of a rare and singular Virtue to contemn Friendship, pri∣vate Obligations, a mans Word, and relation for the common good, and Obedience to the Magistrate: 'tis certainly sufficient to excuse us, that 'tis a Grandeur that could have no place in the Grandeur of Epaminondas his Courage. I abominate those mad Exhortati∣ons of this other inrag'd and discompos'd Soul.

Dum tela micant,* 1.21 non vos pi••tatis imago Vlla nec adversa conspecti fronte parentes Commoveant, vultus gladio turbate verendos.

When Sword's are drawn, let no remains of Love, Friendship, or Piety, Compassion move: But boldly wound the venerable Face Of your own Fathers, if oppos'd in place.

Let us deprive wicked, bloody, and trea∣cherous Natures of such a pretence of Reason: let us set aside this guilty and extravagant Justice, and stick to more humane imitations.

How great things can Time and Example do? In an encounter of the Civil War against Cin∣na, one of Pompeys Souldiers having unawares kill'd his Brother, who was of the contrary Party, he immediately for shame and sorrow kill'd himself: and some years after, in another Civil War of the same People, demanded a Reward of his Office, for having kill'd his Brother. A Man proves but ill the Honour and Beauty of an Action by its Utility: and Men very ill conclude that every one is ob∣lig'd, and it becomes every one to do it, if it be of Utility.

* 1.22Omnia non pariter rerum omnibus apta.

All things are not alike for all Men fit.

Let us choose what is more necessary and profitable for humane Society; it will be Marriage: and yet the Councel of the Saints find the contrary much better, excluding the most honourable vocation of Men: as we de∣sign those Horses for Stallions, of which we have the least Esteem.

CHAP. II. Of Repentance.

OThers form Man, I only report him: and represent a particular one, ill fashion'd enough: and whom, if I had to model a new,

I should certainly make him something else than what he is: but that's past recalling. Now, though the Features of my Picture alter and change, 'tis not however unlike. The World eternally turns round, all things there∣in are incessantly moving, the Earth, the Rocks of Caucasus, and the Pyramids of Egypt, both by the publick motion, and their own. Even Constancy it self is no other but a slower and more languishing Motion. I cannot fix my Object, 'tis always tottering and reeling by a natural Giddiness. I take it as it is at the instant I consider of it. I do not paint its Be∣ing, I paint its Passage, not a passing from one Age to another, or, as the People say, from seven to seven Years; but from Day to Day, from Minute to Minute. I must accommodate my History to the Hour. I may presently change, not only by Fortune, but also by In∣tention? 'Tis a counterpart of various and changeable Accidents, and irresolute Imagina∣tions, and, as it falls out, sometimes contrary: whether it be that I am then another self; or that I take Subjects by other Circumstances and considerations; so it is that I may peradven∣ture contradict: but, as Demades said, I never contradict the Truth. Could my Soul once take footing, I would not Essay, but resolve: but it is always learning and making tryal. I propose a Life mean, and without luster? 'Tis all one. All moral Philosophy may as well be apply'd to a private Life, as to one of the greatest Employment: Every man carries

the entire form of human Condition. Authors communicate themselves to the People by some especial Work; I, the first of any, by my uni∣versal Being: as Michael de Montaigne, not as a Grammarian, a Poet, or a Lawyer. If the World find fault that I speak of my self, I find fault that they do not so much as think of them∣selves. But is it reason, that being so particu∣lar in my way and manner of living, and of so little Use, I should pretend to recommend my self to the publick knowledge? And is it also reason, that I should introduce into the World, where Art and Handling have so much credit and authority, crude, and simple effects of Nature, and of a weak Nature to boot? Is it not to build a Wall without Stone or Brick, or some such thing, to write Books without Learning? The fancies of Musick are carried on by Art, mine by Chance: I have this at least according to Discipline, that never any man treated of a Subject he better understood and knew, than what I have undertaken, and that in this I am the most understanding Man alive. Secondly, that never any man penetrated far∣ther into his matter, nor better, and more di∣stinctly sifted the Parts and Consequences of it, nor ever more exactly and fully arriv'd at the end he propos'd to himself. To finish it, I need bring nothing but fidelity to the Work; and that is there, and the most pure and sincere that is any where to be found. I speak truth, not so much as I would, but as much as I dare, and I dare a little the more, as I grow older,

for, methinks, Custom allows to Age more li∣berty of prating, and more indiscretion of talk∣ing of a man's self. That cannot fall out here, which I often see elsewhere, that the Work and the Artificer contradict one another: Has a man of so sober Conversation writ so fool∣ish a Treatise? Or do so learned writings pro∣ceed from a man of so weak Conversation? Who talks at a very ordinary rate, and writes rarely; is to say that his Capacity is borrow'd, and not his own. A learned man is not learned in all things; but a sufficient man is sufficient throughout, even to Ignorance it self. Here my Book and I go hand in hand together. Elsewhere men may recommend or accuse the Work upon the Work-man's account; here they cannot: Who touches the one invades the other. He that shall censure it without knowing him, will more wrong himself than me; who does understand it, gives me all the satisfaction I desire. I shall be happy beyond my desert, if I can obtain only thus much from the publick Approbation, as to make men of understanding perceive that I was capable of making my advantage of Knowledge, had I had it, and that I deserved to have been assist∣ed by a better Memory.

Be pleas'd here to excuse what I often repeat, that I very rarely repent, and that my Consci∣ence is satisfied with it self, not like the Con∣science of an Angel, or that of a Horse, but like the Conscience of a man; always adding this Clause, not one of Ceremony, but a true and

real Submission; that I speak enquiring and doubtingly, purely and simply referring my self to the common and accepted beliefs for the Resolution. I do not teach, I only repeat. There is no Vice, that is absolutely so, which does not offend, and that a sound Judgment does not accuse; for there is in it so manifest a Deformity and Inconvenience, that perad∣venture they are in the right, who say, that it is chiefly begot by Ignorance: So hard it is to imagine that a man can know without abhorring it. Malice sucks up the greatest part of her own venom, and poysons herself. Vice leaves repentance in the Soul, like an Vlcer in the flesh, which is always scratching and lacera∣ting it self: For Reason effaces all other griefs and sorrows, but it begets that of Repentance, which is so much the more grievous, by reason it springs within, as the cold and hot of Fevers are more sharp than those that only strike upon the outward skin. I hold for Vices, (but every one according to its proportion) not only those which Reason and Nature condemn; but those also, the opinion of men, though false and erroneous, have made such, if authoris'd by Law and Custom. There is likewise no Virtue which does not rejoyce a well descended Nature. There is a kind of I know not what congratu∣lation in well doing, that gives us an inward Satisfaction, and a certain generous boldness that accompanies a good Conscience. A Soul da∣ringly vicious, may peradventure arm it self with security, but cannot supply it self with

this Complacency and Satisfaction. 'Tis no little Satisfaction to feel a Man's self preserv'd from the contagion of so deprav'd an Age, and to say to himself; Whoever could penetrate into my Soul, would not there find me guilty either of the af∣fliction, or the ruin of any one; or of Revenge or Envy, or any offence against the publick Laws, or of Novelty, or Trouble, or failure of my word, and though the licence of the Time permits, and tea∣ches every one so to do, yet have I not plunder'd any French Man's Goods, or taken his Money, and have liv'd upon what is my own in War as well as Peace; neither have I set any man to work without paying him his Hire. These Te∣stimonies of a good Conscience please, and this natural rejoycing is very beneficial to us, and the only reward that we can never fail of. To ground the recompence of virtuous Acti∣ons upon the Approbation of others, is too incertain and unsafe a Foundation, especially in so corrupt and ignorant an Age as this, the good Opinion of the vulgar is injurious. Up∣on whom do you rely to shew you what is recommendable? God defend me from being an honest Man, according to the Descriptions of Honour I daily see every one make of him∣self. Quae fuerant Vitia, Mores sunt.* 1.23 What be∣fore were Vices, are now reputed Manners. Some of my Friends have sometimes school'd and tutor'd me with great Sincerity and Plainness, either of their own voluntary motion, or by me entreated to it, as to an Office, which to a well compos'd Soul, surpasses not only in Uti∣lity,

but in Kindness, all other Offices of Friend∣ship. I have always receiv'd them with the most open Arms, both of Courtesie and Acknowledgment. But to say the truth, I have often found so much false Measure, both in their Reproaches and Praises, that I had not done much amiss, rather to have err'd than to have done well, according to their Method. We chiefly, who live private Lives, not expos'd to any other view than our own, ought to have setled a president within our selves, by which to try our Actions: and according to that, sometimes to incourage, and sometimes to correct our selves. I have my Laws and my Judicature to judge of my self, and apply my self more to those than any other Rules. I do indeed restrain my Actions according to others; but extend them not by any other Rule than my own. You your self only know if you are cowardly and cruel, loyal and de∣vout: others see you not, and only guess at you by incertain Conjectures, and do not so much see your Nature as your Art. Rely not therefore upon their Opinions, but stick to your own.* 1.24 Tuo tibi judicio est utendum Virtu∣tis, & vitiorum grave ipsius conscientiae pondus est: qua sublata, jacent omnia. Thou must spend thy own Judgment upon thy self, great is the weight of thy own Conscience in the discove∣ry of thy own Virtues and Vices: which being taken away, all things are lost. But the saying▪ that Repentance immediately follows the Sin, seems not to have respect to Sin in its gayest

Dress: which is lodg'd in us as in its own proper Habitation. One may disown, and retract the Vices that surprize us, and to which we are hurried by Passions; but those which by a long habit are rooted in a strong and vigorous Will, are not subject to Contradicti∣on.* 1.25 Repentance is no other but a recanting of the Will, and an Opposition to our Fancies, which lead us which way they please. It makes this Person disown his former Virtue and Continency.

Quae mens est hodie,* 1.26 cur eadem non puero fuit Vel cur his animis incolumes non redeunt genae?

Why is not my Mind now alass! The same that when a Boy it was? Or why does not my rosie hue Return, my Beauty to renew.

'Tis an exact life, that contains it self in due order in private: every one may juggle his part, and represent an honest man upon the Stage: but within, and in his own Bosom, where all things are lawful, all things conceal'd to be regular, there's the point. The next de∣gree is to be so in his House, and in his or∣dinary Actions, of which we are accountable to none, and where there is no study, nor Arti∣fice. And therefore Bias, setting forth the ex∣cellent estate of a private Family, of which, says he, the Master is the same within, by his own Virtue and Temper, that he is abroad,

for fear of the Laws, and report of Men. And it was a worthy saying of Julius Drufus, to the Masons who offer'd him for three thousand Crowns to put his House in such a Posture that his Neighbours should no more have the same Inspection into it as before; I will give you, said he, six thousand, to make it so that every body may see into every Room. 'Tis honourably recorded of Argesilaus, that he us'd in his Journeys always to take up his Lodgings in Temples, to the end that the Peo∣ple, and the Gods themselves, might pry into his most private Actions. Such a one has been a Miracle to the World, in whom neither his Wife nor Servant have ever seen any thing so much as remarkable. Few men have been ad∣mir'd by their own Domesticks.* 1.27 And no one has been a Prophet, not only in his own House, but in his own Country, says the Experience of Histories? 'Tis the same in things of nought▪ In this low example, the Image of a greater is to be seen. In my Country of Gascony, they look upon it as a Drollery to see me in print. The further off I am read from my own home, the better I am esteem'd. I am fain to purchase Printers in Guienne, elsewhere they purchase me. Upon this it is, that they lay their foun∣dation, who conceal themselves present, and living, to obtain a Name when they are absent, and dead. I had rather have a great deal less in hand, and do not expose my self to the World upon any other account than my pre∣sent share; when I leave it, I quit the rest.

The People reconduct such a one with pub∣lick Wonders and Applause to his very Door, he puts off this pageantry with his Robe, and falls so much the lower by how much he was higher exalted. In himself within, all is in tu∣mult and disorder. And though all should be regular there, it will require a quick and well chosen Judgment that can perceive it in these low and private Actions. To which may be added, that Order is a heavy, melancholick Virtue: to enter a Breach, carry an Embassy, and govern a People, are Actions of Renown: to reprehend, laugh, sell, pay, love, hate, and gently and justly converse with a man's own Family, and with himself; not to relent, not to give a man's self the lye, is more rare and hard, and less remarkable. By which means retir'd lives, whatever is said to the contrary, undergo Offices of as great, or greater diffi∣culty than the other do. And private men, says Aristotle, serve Virtue more painfully and assiduously, than those in Authority do. We prepare our selves for eminent Occasions, more out of Glory than Conscience. The shortest way to arrive at Glory, should be to do that for Conscience which we do for Glory. And the Virtue of Alexander appears to me with much less Vigour in his Theater, than that of Socrates in his mean and obscure Employment. I can easily conceive Socrates in the place of Alexander, but Alexander in that of Socrates I cannot. Who shall ask the one what he can do, he will answer, subdue the World: And

who shall put the same question to the other, he will say, carry on humane Life conforma∣ble to its natural Condition; a much more general, weighty, and legitimate Knowledge than the other. The Virtue of the Soul does not consist in flying high, but walking order∣ly; its Grandeur does not exercise it self in Grandeur, but in Mediocrity. As they who judg and try us within, make no great account of the lustre of publick Actions; and see they are only streaks and raies of clear Water springing from a slimy and muddy bottom: So likewise they who judg of us by this gal∣lant outward appearance, in like manner con∣clude of our internal Constitution; and can∣not couple common Faculties, and like their own with the other Faculties, that astonish them, and are so far out of their sights. There∣fore it is, that we give such savage forms to Demons. And who does not give Tamberlain great Eye-browes, wide Nostrils, a dreadful Face, and a prodigious Stature, according to the imagination he has conceiv'd by the report of his Name? Had any one formerly brought me to Erasmus, I should hardly have believ'd, but that all was Adage and Apothegme he spoke to his Man, or his Hostess. We much more aptly imagine an Artizan upon his Close-stool, or upon his Wife, than a great President vene∣rable by his port and sufficiency. We fancy that they will not abase themselves so much from their high Tribunals, as to live. As vicious Souls are often incited by some strange

impulse to do well, so are virtuous Souls to do ill. They are therefore to be judg'd by their settled state when they are near repose, and in their native station. Natural inclinations are much assisted and fortified by Education, but they seldom alter and overcome their Insti∣tution. A thousand Natures of my time have escap'd towards Virtue or Vice through a quite contrary Discipline.

Sic ubi desuetae silvis in carcere clausae* 1.28 Mansuevere ferae, & vultus posuere minaces Atque hominem didicere pati, si torrida parvus Venit in Ora cruor, redeunt rabiesque furorque, Admonitae{que} tument gustato sanguine fauces, Fervet, & à trepido vix abstinet ira magistro.

So savage Beasts, when they are Captive made, Grow tame, and half forget their killing trade; Demit their fierce looks, and themselves inure The Government of mankind to endure: But if again the blood for which they burn They taste, their rage and fury then return, They thirst for more, grow fell, and wildly stare, And scarce their trembling Masters do forbear.

These original Qualities are not to be root∣ted out, they may be covered and conceal'd. The Latine Tongue is as it were natural to me, I understand it better than French, but I have not us'd to speak it, nor hardly to write it these forty years; and yet upon extream and sudden emotions which I have fall'n into twice

or thrice in my Life, (and once seeing my Fa∣ther in perfect health fall upon me in a swoon.) I have always uttered my first out-cries and ejaculations in Latine. Nature starting up, and forcibly expressing it self in spite of so long a Discontinuation; and this Example is said of many others. They who in my time have attempted to correct the Manners of the World by new Opinions, have indeed reform'd seem∣ing Vices, but the real and essential Vices they leave as they were, if they do not augment them; and augmentation is therein to be fear'd; we defer all other well doing of less cost and greater merit, upon the account of these exter∣nal Reformations, and thereby expiate good cheap, for the other natural, consubstantial and intestine Vices. Look a little into our Expe∣rience. There is no man, if he listen to him∣self, who does not in himself discover a par∣ticular and governing Form of his own that justles his Education, and wrestles with the tempest of Passions that are contrary to him. For my part, I seldom find my self agitated with Surprises; I almost always find my self in my place, as heavy and unweildy Bodies do: If I am not at home, I am always near at hand; my Debauches do not transport me very far, there is nothing strange or extream in the case; and yet I have sound and vigorous Raptures and Delights. The true Condemnation, and which touches the common practice of Men, is, that their very Progress it self is full of Filth and Corruption; the Idea of their Reforma∣tion

blotted, their Repentance sick and faul∣ty, as much very near as their Sin. Some, ei∣ther for having been link'd to Vice by a na∣tural Propension, or long Practice, cannot see the Deformity of it. Others (of which Con∣stitution I am) do indeed weigh Vice, but they counter-balance it with Pleasure, or some other occasion, and suffer, and lend themselves to it for a certain price; but viciously and basely however: yet there might happily be imagin'd so vast a disproportion of measure, where with justice the Pleasure might excuse the Sin, as we say of profit; not only if accidental, and out of Sin, as in Thefts; but in the very exercise of it; as in the injoyment of Women, where the Temptation is violent, and 'tis said, sometimes not to be overcome.

Being the other day at Armaignac, which appertains to a Kinsman of mine, I there saw a Country Fellow that was by every one nick∣nam'd the Thief; who thus related the story of his own Life: That being born a Beggar, and finding that he should not be able to get his living by his hands, he resolv'd to turn Thief, and by means of his strength of Body, had excercis'd this trade all the time of his Youth in great security; for he ever made his Harvest and Vintage in other mens Grounds, but a great way off, and in so great Quanti∣ties, that it was not to be imagin'd one man could have carried away so much in one night upon his Shoulders; and moreover, was so carefull equally to divide and distribute the

mischief he did, that the loss was of less Impor∣tance to every particular man. He is now grown old and rich, for a man of his Condi∣tion, thanks be to his Trade, which he openly confesses to every one: and to make his Peace with God▪ he says, that he is daily ready by good Offices to make satisfaction to the Suc∣cessors of those he has rob'd, and if he do not finish, (for to do it all at once he is not able) he will then leave it in charge to his Heirs to perform the rest proportionably to wrong he himself only knows he has done to every one. By this Description, whether true or false, this Man looks upon Theft as a dishonest Action, and hates it, but less than Poverty, and does simply repent; but for as much as was thus re∣compenc'd he repents not. This is not that ha∣bit that incorporates us into Vice, and con∣forms even our Understanding it self to it, nor is it that impetuous Whirl-wind that by gusts troubles and blinds our Souls, and for the time, precipitates us, Judgment and all, into the power of Vice.

I customarily do what I do thorowly, I make but one step on't; I have rarely any movement that hides it self and steals away from my Reason, and that does not upon the matter proceed by the consent of all my Fa∣culties, without decision, or intestine Sedition; my Judgment is to have all the blame, or all the praise, and the blame it once has it has al∣ways, for I have from my Infancy almost al∣ways had the same inclination, the same speed,

and the same force. And as to universal Opi∣nions, I fix'd my self from my Child-hood in the place where I resolv'd to stick. There are some Sins that are impetuous, prompt, and sud∣den, let us set them aside; but in these other Sins so oft repeated, deliberated and contriv'd, whether Sins of Complexion, or Sins of Professi∣on and Vocation; I cannot conceive that they can have so long been settled in the same Re∣solution, unless the Reason and Conscience of him who has them be constant to have them so, and the Repentance he boasts to be inspir'd with on a sudden, is very hard for me to ima∣gine. I follow not the Opinion of the Pitha∣gorean Sect, that men take up a new Soul when they repair to the Images of the Gods to receive Oracles, unless they mean that it is new, and lent for the time, our own shewing so small sign of Purification and Cleanness, fit for such an Office. They act quite contrary to the Stoical Precepts, that do indeed command us to correct the Imper∣fections which we know our selves guilty of, but forbids us to disturb the Repose of our Souls. These make us believe that they have great Grief and Remorse within: but of Amend∣ment, Correction, or Demonstration, they make nothing appear. It cannot certainly be a per∣fect Cure, if the Humor be not wholly dis∣charg'd, if Repentance were laid upon the Scale of a Ballance, it would weigh down Sin.* 1.29 I find no quality so easie to counterfeit, as De∣votion, provided they do not conform their

Manners and Life to the Profession: its Es∣sence is abstruce and occult, the apparences easie and majestick. For my own part, I may desire in general to be other than I am; I may condemn and dislike my whole frame, and beg of Almighty God for an entire Reformation, and that he will please to pardon my natural Infirmity: but I ought not to call this Re∣pentance, methinks, no more than the being dissatisfied that I am not an Angel, or Cato: my Actions are conformable to what I am, and to my Condition. I can do no better, and Re∣pentance is not properly concern'd in things that are not in our Power; Sorrow is. I ima∣gine an infinite number of Souls more elevated and regular than mine; and yet I do not for all that improve my Faculties no more than my Arm, or will grow more strong and vigo∣rous for conceiving those of another to be so. If to imagine and wish a nobler way of acting than that we have,* 1.30 should produce a Repen∣tance of our own, we must then repent us of our most innocent Actions, forasmuch as we well suppose, that in a more excellent Na∣ture they would have been carried on with greater Dignity and Perfection; and would that ours were so. When I reflect upon the Deportments of my Youth, with that of my old age, I find that I have behaved my self equally well in both, according to what I un∣derstand. This is all that my resistance can do. I do not flatter my self; in the same Circum∣stance I should do the same things. It is not

a Spot, but rather an universal Tincture, with which I am imbued. I know no mean Cere∣monies, and superficial Repentance. It must sting me all over before I can call it so, and that it prick my Bowels as deep and universal∣ly as God sees into me. As to Employment, many good Opportunities have escap'd me for want of good Conduct; and yet my Delibe∣rations were sound enough, according to the occurrences presented to me. 'Tis their way to choose always the easiest and the safest course. I find that in my former Counsels, I have pro∣ceeded with Discretion, according to my own rule, and according to the state of the subject propos'd, and should do the same a thousand years hence in like Occasions. I do not con∣sider what it is now, but what it was then, when I deliberated on it. The force of all Counsel consists in the Time; Occasions, and things eternally shift and change. I have in my Life committed some great and important Errors, not for want of good Understanding, but for want of good Luck. There are secret, and not to be foreseen parts in matters we have in handling, especially in the Nature of men; mute Conditions, that make no show, unknown sometimes even to the Professors themselves; that spring and start up by accidental Occasi∣ons. If my Prudence could not penetrate in∣to, nor foresee them, I blame it not: 'tis com∣mission'd no further than its own limits. If the event be too hard for me, and take the side I have refus'd, there is no Remedy, I do not

blame my self, I accuse my Fortune, and not my own handy Work; this cannot be called Repentance. Phocion, having given the Athe∣nians an Advice that was not follow'd, and the Affair nevertheless succeeding contrary to his Opinion, some one said to him; Well, Phoci∣on, art thou content that Matters go so well? I am very well pleas'd reply'd he, that this has hap∣ned so well, but I do not repent that I counsell'd the other. When any of my Friends address themselves to me for Advice, I give it candid∣ly and clearly, without sticking, as almost all other men do, at the hazard of the thing, that it may fall out contrary to my Opinion, by which means I may be reproach'd for my Counsel; I am very indifferent as to that: For the Fault will be theirs in having consult∣ed me; and I could not refuse them my best Advice. I, for my own part, can rarely blame any one but my self, for my oversights and Misfortunes. For indeed I seldom consult the Advice of another, if not by Honour of Ce∣remony, or excepting where I stand in need of Information, as to matter of Fact. But in things wherein I stand in need of nothing but Judg∣ment, other mens Reasons may serve to forti∣fie my own, but have little power to dissuade me. I hear them with Civility and Patience all; but to my knowledge, I never made use of any but my own. With me they are but Flies and Atoms, that confound and distract my Will. I lay no great stress upon my Opi∣nions; but I lay as little upon those of others,

and Fortune rewards me accordingly. If I re∣ceive but little Advice, I also give but little; I seldom consult others, and am seldom believ'd, and know no concern either publick or pri∣vate, that has been mended or better'd by my Advice. Even they whom Fortune had in some sort ty'd to my Direction, have more willingly suffer'd themselves to be govern'd by any other Counsels than mine; and as a man who is as jealous of my repose as of my Au∣thority, I am better pleas'd that it should be so. In leaving me there, they humour what I profess, which is to settle and wholly contain my self within my self: I take a pleasure in be∣ing uninteressed from other mens Affairs, and disengag'd from being their warranty, and re∣sponsible for what they do. In all Affairs that are past, be it how it will, I have very little regret; for this Imagination puts me out of my pain, that they ought so to fall out: they are in the great revolution of the World, and in the Chain of Stoical Causes: your Fancy cannot, by wish and Imagination, remove one tittle, but that the great current of things will reverse both the past and the future. As to the rest, I abominate that accidental Repentance which old Age brings along with it: and he, who said of old, that he was oblig'd to his Age for having wean'd him from Pleasure, was of of another Opinion than I am; I can never think my self beholding to Impotency for any good it can ever do me. Nec tam aversa un∣quam videbitur ab opere suo Providentia, ut de∣bilitas

inter optima inventa sit. Nor can Provi∣dence ever be seen so averse to her own Work, that debility should be rank'd amongst the best things. Our Appetites are rare in old age; a profound Saciety seizes us after the Act; I see nothing of Conscience in this, heaviness and weakness imprint in us a drowsie and rheuma∣tick Virtue. We must not suffer our selves to be so wholly carried away by natural altera∣tions, as to suffer our Judgments to be impos'd upon by them. Youth and Pleasure have not formerly so far prevail'd upon me, that I did not well enough discern the face of Vice in Pleasure, neither does the nausity that years have brought me, so far prevail with me now, that I cannot discern Pleasure in Vice. Now that I am no more in my flourishing Age, I judge as well of these things as if I was. I, who narrowly and strictly examine it, find my Reason the very same it was in my most licen∣tious age, if not perhaps a little weaker, and more decay'd by being grown old; and I find that the Pleasure it refuses me upon the ac∣count of my bodily Health, it would no more refuse it now in Consideration of the health of my Soul than at any time heretofore. I do not repute it more valiant for being out of Combat. My temptations are so broken and mortified, that they are not worth its Oppo∣sitions, holding but out my hands I repell them. Should one present the old Concupiscence be∣fore it, I fear it would have less power to re∣sist it than heretofore. I do not discern that in

it self it judges any thing otherwise now, than it formerly did, nor that it has acquir'd any new light. Wherefore, if there be convales∣cence, 'tis an inchanted one. Miserable kind of Remedy to owe a mans Health to his Dis∣ease. 'Tis not for our misfortune to perform this Office, but for the good fortune of our Judgment. I am not to be made to do any thing by Persecutions and Afflictions, but curse them. That is for People that are not to be rous'd but by a Whip; my Reason is much more active in Prosperity, and much more distract∣ed, and put to't to digest Pains than Pleasures. I see best in a clear Sky. Health does pre∣monish me, as more chearfully, so to better purpose than Sickness. I did all that in me lay to reform and regulate my self from Plea∣sures at all times, when I had Health and Vi∣gour to enjoy them. I should be troubled and ashamed, that the Misery and Misfortune of my Age, should be prefer'd before my good, healthful, spritely, and vigorous Years; and that men should esteem me, not for what I have been, but by that miserable part of my self, where I have, as it were, ceas'd to be. In my Opinion 'tis the happy Living, and not (as said Antisthenes) the happy Dying, in which humane Felicity consists. I have not made it my Business to make a monstrous ad∣dition of a Philosophers tayl to the Head and Body of a Libertine: nor would I have this wretched remainder give the lye to the plea∣sant, sound, and long part of my Life. I will

present my self uniformly throughout. Were I to live my Life over again, I should live it just as I have done. I neither complain of the past, nor do I fear the future; and If I am not much deceiv'd, I am the same within that I am without. 'Tis one main Obligation I have to Fortune, that the Succession of my bodily Estate has been carried on according to the natural Seasons; I have seen the Grass, the Blossoms, and the Fruit, and now see the Tree wither'd: happily however, because natural∣ly. I bear the Infirmities I have the better, because they came not till I had Reason to expect them; and because also they make me with greater Pleasure remember that long Fe∣licity of my past Life. My Wisdom peradven∣ture may have been the same in both Ages; but it was more active, and of better Grace whilst young and spritely, than now it is when broken, pievish, and uneasie. I renounce then these casual and painful Reformations, God must touch our Hearts, and our Consciences must amend of themselves, by the force of our Reason, and not by the decay of our Appe∣tites. Pleasure is in it self neither pale nor discoloured, to be discern'd by dim and de∣cay'd Eyes. We ought to love Temperance for it self, and because God has commanded that and Chastity; but what we are reduc'd to by Catarrhs, and that I am oblig'd to the Stone for, is neither Chastity nor Temperance. A Man cannot boast that he despises and re∣sists Pleasure, if he cannot see it; if he knows

not what it is, cannot discern its graces, forces, and most alluring Beauties; I know both the one and the other, and may therefore the bet∣ter say it; but, methinks, our Souls in old Age are subject to more troublesome maladies and im∣perfections than in Youth. I said the same when young, and that I was reproach'd with the want of a Beard, and I say so now that my gray Hairs give me some Authority; we call the difficulty of our Humours, and the disrelish of present things, Wisdom, but in truth we do not so much forsake Vices as we change them, and in my opinion, for worse. Besides a foo∣lish and feeble Pride, an impertinent Prating, froward and insociable Humours, Superstition, and a ridiculous desire of Riches when we have lost the Use; I find more Envy, Injustice and Malice. Age imprints more wrinkles in the Mind than it does in the Face, and Souls are never, or very rarely seen, that in growing old do not smell soure and musty. Man moves all together, both towards his perfection and decay. In observing the Wisdom of Socrates, and many Circumstances of his condemnation, I should dare to believe, that he in some sort himself purposely by collusion contributed to it, seeing that at the age of seventy years he suffered the lofty motions of his Wit to be so crampt, and his wonted lustre to be so ob∣scur'd. What strange Metamorphoses do I see Age every day make in many of my acquain∣tance? 'tis a potent Malady, and that natu∣rally and imperceptibly steals into us, and vast

provision of study, and great precaution are requir'd to evade the imperfections it loads us with, or at least, to obstruct their progress. I find, that notwithstanding all my retrench∣ments, it gets foot by foot upon me; I make the best resistance I can, but I do not know to what at last it will reduce me; but fall out what will, I am content the World may know when I am fall'n, from whence I fell.

CHAP. III. Of three Commerces.

WE must not rivet our selves so fast to these Humours and Complexions. Our chiefest sufficiency is to know how to apply our selves to divers Employments. 'Tis to be, but not to live, to keep a man's self ty'd and bound by necessity to one only Course. Those are the bravest Souls that have in them the most variety, and that are most flexible and pliant; of which here is an honourable Testimony of the elder Cato: Huic versatile ingenium sic pa∣riter ad omnia fuit,* 1.31 ut natum ad id unum dice∣res, quodcumque ageret. This Man's Parts were so convertible to all Vses, that a man would think he were born only for what ever he did. Might I have the liberty to dress my self after my own Mode, there is no so gracefull fashion to which I would be so fixt, as not to be able to disengage my self from it. Life is an unequal,

irregular, and multiform Motion. 'Tis not to be a Friend to a man's self, much less a Master; 'tis not to be a Slave so incessantly, to be so led by the nose by ones own Inclinations, that a man cannot turn aside nor writhe his neck out of the collar.* 1.32 I speak it now in this part of my Life, wherein I find I cannot dis∣engage my self from the importunity of my Soul, by reason that it cannot commonly amuse it self, but on things wherein it is perplex'd, nor employ it self but intirely, and with all its force. Upon the lightest Subject can be offer'd, it makes it infinitely greater, and stretches it to that degree, as therein to employ its utmost power, wherefore its Idleness is to me a very painful Labour, and very prejudicial to my Health. Most mens minds require foreign mat∣ter to exercise and enliven them; mine has rather need to sit still and repose it self;* 1.33 Vitia otii negotio discutienda sunt. The vices of Sloth are to be shak'd off by business; for its chiefest and most painful study is to study it self. Books are to it a sort of employment that debauches it from its study. Upon the first Thoughts that possess it, it begins to bustle and make tryal of a Vigour in all Senses, exercises its power of handling, sometimes making tryal of its force, and then fortifying, moderating and ranging it self by the way of Grace and Or∣der. It has of its own wherewith to rouse its Faculties: Nature has given to it, as to all others, matter enough of its own to make ad∣vantage of, and Subjects proper enough, where

it may either invent or judge. Meditation is a powerful and full study to such as can effe∣ctually employ themselves. I had rather forge my Soul than furnish it. There is no employ∣ment, either more weak or more strong, than that of entertaining a man's own Thoughts, ac∣cording as the Soul is. The greatest men make it their whole business,* 1.34 quibus vivere est cogita∣re. To whom to live is to think. Nature has al∣so favour'd it with this priviledge, that there is nothing we can do so long, nor any Action to which we more frequently and with great∣er facility addict our selves. 'Tis the business of the Gods, says Aristotle, and from whence both their beatitude and ours proceed. The principal use of Reading to me, is, that by va∣rious Objects it rouzes my Reason, and em∣ploys my Judgment, not my Memory. Few entertainments then detain me without force and violence; it is true, that the beauty and neatness of a Work take as much or more with me than the weight and depth of the Sub∣ject: And forasmuch as I slumber in all other communication, and give but a negligent at∣tention, it often falls out, that in such mean and pitiful Discourses, I either make strange and ridiculous Answers unbecomming a Child, or more indiscreetly and rudely maintain an obstinate Silence. I have a melancholick and pensive way, that withdraws me into my self, and to that a stupid and childish Ignorance of many very ordinary things, by which two Qualities I have obtain'd, that men may truly

report five or six as ridiculous tales of me as of any other whatever. But to proceed in my Subject; this difficult Complexion of mine ren∣ders me very nice in my conversation with men, whom I must cull and pick out for my purpose, and unfit for common Society. We live and negotiate with the People; if their Conversation be troublesome to us, if we dis∣dain to apply our selves to mean and vulgar Souls, (and the mean and vulgar are oft as re∣gular as those of the finest thred; and all wis∣dom is folly that does not accomodate it self to the common Ignorance) we must no more intermeddle either with other mens Affairs or our own; and all business both publick and private must be manag'd apart from the Popu∣lar. The less forc'd, and most natural motions of the Soul, are the most beautiful; the best em∣ployments, those that are least constrain'd. Good God! how good an Office does Wis∣dom to those whose desires it limits to their Power? That is the most happy Knowledge. What a man can, was the Sentence Socrates was so much in love withall, a Motto of great substance; we moderate and adapt our de∣sires to the nearest and easiest to be acquir'd things. Is it not a foolish Humour of mine, to separate my self from a thousand to whom my Fortune has conjoin'd me, and without whom I cannot live, to cleave to one or two that are out of my Commerce, or rather a fantastick desire of a thing I cannot obtain? My gentle and easie Manners, enemies of all soureness in

Conversation, may easily enough have secur'd me from the Envy and Animosities of men; I do not say so as to be belov'd, but never any man gave less occasions of being hated; but the coldness of my Conversation has reasonably depriv'd me of the good Will of many, who are to be excus'd if they interpret it in ano∣ther and worse sense. I am best at contracting, and maintain rare and exquisite Friendships; for by reason that I so greedily seize upon such Acquaintance as fits my liking, I throw my self with such violence upon them that I hard∣ly fail to stick, and oft make an Impression where I hit, as I have often made happy proof. I am in some sort cold and shy, for my motion is not natural, if not with full sail: Besides, my Fortune having train'd me up from my Youth in, and given me a relish of one sole and perfect Friendship, it has in truth given me a kind of nausity to meaner Conversations, and too much imprinted in my Fancy, that they are Beasts of Company, as the Ancient said, but not of the Herd. And also I have a na∣tural difficulty of communicating my self by halves, and that Reservation, servile, and jealous Prudence requir'd in the conversa∣tion of numerous and imperfect Friendships. And we are principally injoin'd to these in this Age of ours, when we cannot talk of the World, but either with danger or false-hood. Yet do I very well discern, that he who has the Conveniencies (I mean the the essential Conveniencies) of Life for his end, as I have,

ought to fly these difficulties and delica∣cy of Humour as much as the Plague. I should commend a Soul of several Stories, that knows both how to bend and to slacken it self, that finds it self at ease in all Conditi∣ons of Fortune, that can discourse with a Neighbour, of his Building, Hunting, or any little Contention betwixt him and another: that can chat with a Carpenter or a Gardiner with Pleasure. I envy those who can render themselves familiar with the meanest of their Followers, and divert themselves with their own Attendants: and dislike the Advice of Plato, that Men should always speak in a Ma∣gisterial tone to their Servants, whether Men or Women; without being sometimes faceti∣ous and familiar. For besides my reason,* 1.35 'tis inhumane and unjust, to set so great a value upon this pittiful prerogative of Fortune; and the Governments, wherein less disparity is per∣mitted betwixt Masters and Servants, seem to me the most equitable. Others study how to raise and elevate their Minds, I, how to hum∣ble mine, and to bring it low; 'tis only vici∣ous in extension.

Narras, & genus Aeaci* 1.36 Et pugnata sacro bella sub Ilio; Quo Chium pretio cadum Mercemur, quis aquam temperet ignibus, Quo praebente domum, & quota Pelignis caream frigoribus, taces.

* 1.37Thou por'st on Helvi••us, and studiest in vain, How many years past betwixt King and Kings Reign; To make an old Woman even twitter for joy At an eighty eight story, or the scuffle at Troy. But where the good Wine, and best fire is, When the cruel North wind does blow, And the Trees do penance in Snow; Where the Poets delight and desire is, Thou pittiful Book-worm ne're troublest thy Brain.

Thus, as the Lacedemonian Valour stood in need of Moderation, and of the sweet and harmonious sound of Flutes to soften them in Battel, lest they should precipitate themselves into Temerity and Fury; whereas all other Nations commonly make use of harsh and shrill sounds, and of loud and imperious Voi∣ces, to incite and heat the Souldiers Courage to the last degree: so, methinks, that contrary to the usual Method, in the Practice of our Minds, we have for the most part more need of Lead, than Wings▪ of Temperance; and Composedness; than Ardour, and Agitation. But above all things, 'tis in my Opinion, egre∣giously to play the Fool, to put on the Gravi∣ty of a Man of Understanding amongst those that know nothing: and to speak in print, favellar in punta di forchetta: you must let your self down to those with whom you con∣verse; and sometimes affect Ignorance: lay aside constraint and subtilty, 'tis enough in common Conversation to preserve Decency

and Order; as to the rest, flag as low as the Earth, if they desire it. The Learned oft stum∣ble at this Stone; they will be always shew∣ing their utmost skill, and strow their Wri∣tings all over with the Flowers of their Elo∣quence: they have in these days so fill'd the Cabinets and Ears of the Ladies with it, that if they have lost the Substance, they at least re∣tain the Words: so as in all discourse upon all sorts of Subjects, how mean and common soever, they speak and write after a new and learned way;

Hoc sermone pavent, hoc iram, gaudia, curas,* 1.38 Hoc cuncta effundunt animi secreta, quid ultra? Concumbunt doctè.

In the same Language they express their fears, Their anger, and their joys, their griefs & cares, And all their Secrets do pour out; What more? In the same learned Phrase they play the Whore.

and quote Plato and Aquinas in things the first they meet could determine as well. The Learning that cannot penetrate their Souls, hangs still upon the Tongue. If those of Qua∣lity will be perswaded by me, they shall con∣tent themselves with setting out their proper and natural Treasures; they conceal and cover their Beauties under others that are none of theirs: 'tis a great folly to put out their own Light, to shine by a borrow'd luster: they are interr'd and buried under the Article Cap∣sula

totae. It is because they do not sufficient∣ly know, that the World has nothing fairer than themselves, 'tis for them to honour the Arts, and to paint Painting. What need have they of any thing, but to live beloved and honour'd? They have, and know but too much for this. They need do no more, but rouse and heat a little the Faculties they have of their own. When I see them tampering with Rhetorick, Law, Logick, and the like; so improper and unnecessary for their Busi∣ness, I begin to suspect, that the men who in∣spire them with such things, do it that they may govern them upon that account. For what other excuse can I contrive? It is enough that they can without our Instruction govern the Graces of their Eyes to Gayety, Severity, and Sweetness, and season a denial either with Anger, Suspence, or Favour, and that they need not another to interpret what we speak for their Service. With this Knowledge they command with the Switch, and rule both the Regents and the Schools. But if nevertheless they think much to give place to us in any thing whatever, and will out of Curiosity have their share in Books;* 1.39 Poetry is a Diver∣sion proper for theM, 'tis a wanton and subtle, a dissembling and prating Art, all Pleasure, and all shew like themselves. They may also ex∣tract several Conveniences from History.* 1.40 In Philosophie, out of the moral part of it, they may select such instructions as will teach them to judge of our Humors and Conditions, to de∣fend

themselves from our Treacheries, to regu∣late the ardor of their own Desires, to manage their Liberty, lengthen the Pleasure of Life, and mildly to bear the inconstancY of a Ser∣vant, the rudeness of a Husband, and the im∣portunity of Years, Wrinckles, and the like. This is the utmost of what I would allow them in the Sciences. There are some particular Natures that are private and retir'd: my natu∣ral way is proper for Communication, and apt to lay me open; I am all without, and in sight, born for Society and Friendship: the solitude that I love my self, and recommend to others, is chiefly no other, than to with∣draw my Thoughts and Affections into my self; to restrain and check, not my steps, but my own Cares and Desires; resigning all fo∣reign Solitude, and mortally avoiding Servi∣tude and Obligations; and not so much the crowd of men, as the crowd of Business. Lo∣cal Solitude, to say the truth, does rather give me more room, and set me more at large; I more willingly throw my self upon Affairs of State, and the World, when I am alone. At the Louvre, and in the bustle of the Court, I fold my self within my own Skin. The crowd thrusts me upon my self. And I never enter∣tain my self so wantonly, so licentiously, nor so particularly, as in places of respect, and ce∣remonious Prudence: Our Follies do not make men laugh, but our Wisdom. I am naturally no Enemy to a Court Life; I have therein past a good part of my own, and am of an Humour

to be cheerfull in great Companies, provided it may be by intervals, and at my own time: But this softness of Judgment whereof I speak, ties me by force to solitude, even in my own House, in the middle of a numerous Family, and a House sufficiently frequented; I see People enow, but rarely such with whom I delight to converse. And I there reserve both for my self and others an unusual Liberty: There is in my House no such thing as Ceremonies, ush∣ering or waiting upon them down to the Coach, and such other troublesome Ceremo∣nies as our courtesie joyns, (O servile and importunate Custom!) every one there governs himself according to his own Method; let who will speak his Thoughts, I sit mute, me∣ditating and shut up in my Closet, without any offence to my Guests. The men, whose Society and Familiarity I covet, are those they call sincere and ingenious men, and the Image of these make me disrelish the rest. It is, if rightly taken, the rarest of our Forms, and a Form that we chiefly owe to Nature. The end of this Commerce is simply Privacy, Fre∣quentation and Conference, the exercise of Souls, without other Fruit. In our Discourse all Subjects are alike to me; let there be nei∣ther weight, nor depth, 'tis all one, there is yet Grace and Pertinency, all there is tincted with a mature and constant Judgment, and mixt with Bounty, Freedom, Gayety and Friendship. 'Tis not only in talking of the Affairs of Kings and State, that our Wits dis∣cover

their force and Beauty, but every whit as much in private Conferences. I understand my People even by their Silence and Smiles; and better discover them perhaps at Table, than in the Counsel. Hippomachus said very well, that he could know the good Wrestlers by only se∣ing them walk in the Street. If Learning will please to step into our talk, it shall not be re∣jected, not magisterial, imperious, and impor∣tunate, as it commonly is, but suffragan and docile in it self. We there only seek to divert our selves, and to pass away our time; when we have a mind to be instructed and preach'd to, we will go seek it in its Throne. Let it debase it self to us for once, if it so please; for useful and profitable as it is, I presuppose that even in the greatest need, we may do well enough without it, and do our Business with∣out its Assistance. A well descended Soul, and practic'd in the Conversation of men, will of her self, render her self agreable to all. Art is nothing but the counter-part and register of what such Souls produce. The Conver∣sation also of beautiful and well bred Women, is also for me a most sweet commerce:* 1.41 nam nos quoque Oculos eruditos habemus. If the Soul has not therein so much to enjoy, as in the first, the bodily Senses, which also participate more of this, bring it to a proportion near to, though, in my opinion, not equal to the other. But 'tis a Commerce wherein a man must stand a little upon his Guard, especially those of a vigorous Constitution, as I am. The

burnt Child dreads the fire. I there scalded my self in my Youth, and suffered all the Tor∣ments that Poets say are to befall all who pre∣cipitate themselves into Love without Order and Judgement. It is true, that whipping has made me wiser since.

* 1.42Quicumque Argolica de classe Capharea fugit, Semper ab Euboices vela retorquet aquis.

O'th Graecian Fleet, who would Capharius flee, Must always steer from the Euboick Sea.

'Tis folly to fix all a man's Thoughts upon it, and madness to engage in it with a furious and indiscreet Affection; but on the other side, to engage there without Love and without Incli∣nation, like Comedians, to play a common part, without putting any thing to it of his own but Words, is indeed to provide for his safety; but withall, after as scandalous a manner, as he who should abandon his Honour, Profit, or Pleasure, for fear of danger; for it is most certain, that from such a Practice, they who set it on foot can expect no Fruit that can please or satisfie a noble Soul. A man must of necessity have in good earnest desir'd that which he in good earnest expects to have a pleasure in enjoying; I say, though Fortune should unjustly favour their Dissimulation, which oft falls out, because there is none of the Sex, let her be as ugly as the Devil, who does not think her self well worthy to be be∣lov'd,

and that does not prefer her self before other Women, either for her Youth, the colour of her Hair, or her gracefull Motion, (for gene∣rally there are no more foul than fair;) and the Brachman Virgins, who have no other Beauty to recommend them, the People being assembled by the common Crier to that effect, come out into the Market place to ex∣pose their matrimonial Parts to publick view, to try if those at least were not of temptati∣on sufficient to get them Husbands. Conse∣quently, there is not one who does not easily suffer her self to be overcome by the first Vow that is made to serve her. Now from this ordinary treachery of men, that must fall out which we already experimentally see, either that they rally together, and separate them∣selves by themselves to evade us, or else form their Discipline by the Example we give them, play their Parts of the Farce as we do ours, and give themselves up to the sport, without Passion, Care, or Love: Neque affe∣ctui suo aut alieno obnoxiae: believing, accord∣ing to the persuasion of Lysias in Plato, that they may with more Utility and Convenience surrender themselves up to us the less we love them. Where it will fall out, as in Comedies, that the People will have as much Pleasure or more than the Comedians. For my part, I no more acknowledge a Venus without a Cupid, than a Mother without Issue: They are things that mu∣tually lend, and own their Essence to one another; so this Cheat rebounds back upon him who is

guilty of it, it does not cost him much in∣deed, but he also gets little or nothing by it. They who have made Venus a Goddess, have taken notice that her principal Beau∣ty was incorporeal and spiritual. But the Venus which these People hunt after, is not so much as humane, nor indeed brutal; the very Beasts will not accept it so gross and so earth∣ly. We see that Imagination and Desire oft heats and incites them before the Body does; we see in both the one Sex and the other, they have in the herd choice and particular election in their Affections, and that they have amongst them∣selves a long Commerce of old good Will. Even those to whom old Age denies the practice of their desire, do yet tremble, neigh, and twitter for Love. We see them before the Act full of hope and ardour, and when the Body has play'd its Game, yet please themselves with the sweet remembrance of the Pleasure past; some that swell with Pride after they have perform'd, and others, who tir'd and sated, do yet by Vo∣ciferation express a triumphing Joy. Who has nothing to do but only to discharge his Body of a natural necessity, need not to trouble o∣thers with so curious Preparations. It is not Meat for a gross and boysterous Appetite. As one who does not desire that men should think me better than I am, I will here freely disco∣ver the Errors of my Youth, not only for the danger of impairing my Health, (and yet I could not be so carefull, but that I had two light Mischances) but moreover upon the

account of Contempt, I have seldom given my self up to common and mercenary Embraces. I would heighten the Pleasure by the Difficul∣ty, by Desire, and a certain kind of Glory; and was clearly of Tiberius's mind,* 1.43 who in his Amours was as much taken with Modesty and Birth as any other Quality; and of the Cour∣tesan Floras Humour,* 1.44 who never prostituted her self to less than a Dictator, a Consul, or a Censor, and solac'd her self in the dignity of her Lovers; doubtless Pearl and Tissue, Ti∣tles and Attendance, add something to it. As to the rest, I had a great esteem for Wit, pro∣vided the Person was without exception; for, to confess the truth, if the one or the other of these two Perfections must of necessity be wanting, I should rather have quitted that of the Under∣standing, that has its Use in better things; but in the subject of Love, a Subject principally relating to the Senses of Seeing and Touching, something may be done without the Graces of the Mind, without the Graces of the Body no∣thing. Beauty is the true prerogative of Wo∣men, and so peculiarly their own, that ours, though naturally requiring another sort of Feature, is never in its lustre but when pue∣rile and beardless, confus'd and mixt with theirs. 'Tis said, that such as are prefer'd to the Grand Signior upon the account of Beauty, which are an infinite number, are at the farthest dismiss'd at two and twenty years of Age. Reason, Prudence, and Offices of Friendship are better found amongst men, and therefore it is, that

they govern the Affairs of the World. These two Commerces are fortuitous, and depend∣ing upon others; the one is troublesome by its rarity, the other wither with Age, so that they could never have been sufficient for the Business of my Life. That of Books, which is the third, is much more certain, and much more our own. It yields all other Advantages to the other two; but has the Constancy and Facility of its Service for its own share: It goes side by side with me in my whole Course, and every where is assisting to me: it comforts me in my Age and Solitude; it eases me of a troublesome weight of idleness, and delivers me at all hours from Company that I dislike: and it blunts the point of Griefs, if they are not extream, and have not got an entire Pos∣session of my Soul. To divert my self from a troublesome Fancy, 'tis but to run to my Books, they presently fix me to them, and drive the other out of my Thoughts; and do not mutiny to see that I have only recourse to them for want of other more real, natural, and lively Conveniencies; they always receive me with the same Kindness. He may well go a foot, they say, who leads his Horse in his Hand. And our James, King of Naples and Sicily, who, handsome, young, and healthful, caus'd himself to be carried up and down on a Bar∣row, extended upon a pittiful mattrice in a poor Robe of gray Cloth, and a Cap of the same; but attended withal with a Royal train of Litters, led-Horses of all sorts, Gentlemen

and Officers, did yet herein represent a tender and unsteady austerity. The sick man is not to be lamented, who has his cure in his sleeve. In the experience and practice of this Sentence, which is a very true one, all the benefit I reap from Books consists; and yet I make as little use of it almost as those that know it not: I enjoy it as a Miser does his money, in know∣ing that I may enjoy it when I please: my mind is satisfied with this right of possession. I never travel without Books, either in Peace or War; and yet sometimes I pass over seve∣ral days, and sometimes months, without look∣ing on them: I will read by and by, say I to my self, or to morrow, or when I please, and in the interim Time steals away without any inconvenience. For it is not to be imagin'd to what degree I please my self, and rest content in this consideration, that I have them by me, to divert my self with them when I am so dis∣pos'd, and to call to mind what an ease and refreshment they are to my Life. 'Tis the best Viaticum I have yet found out for this humane journey, and very much lament those men of understanding who are unprovided of them. And yet I the rather accept of any other sort of diversion, how light soever, because this can never fail me. When at home, I a little more frequent my Library, from whence I at once survey all the whole concerns of my Fa∣mily: 'Tis scituated at the entrance into my House, and I thence under me see my Gar∣den, Court, and base-Court, and into all the

parts of the building. There I turn over now one Book, and then another, of various Sub∣jects, without method or design: one while I meditate, another I record, and dictate as I walk to and fro, such whimsies as these I pre∣sent you here. 'Tis in the third story of a Tower, of which the Ground-room is my Chappel, the second story an Apartment with a withdrawing Room and Closet, where I often lye to be more retir'd. Above it is a great Wardrobe, which formerly was the most useless part of the House. I there pass away both the most of the days of my Life, and most of the hours of those days. In the Night I am never there. There is within it a Cabinet handsome and neat enough, with a Fire place very commodiously contriv'd, and Light very finely fitted. And was I not more afraid of the Trouble than the Expence, the Trouble that frights me from all Business, I could very easily adjoyn on either side, and on the same Floor, a Gallery of an hundred paces long, and twelve broad, having found Walls al∣ready rais'd for some other design, to the requisite height. Every place of retirement requires a walk. My Thoughts sleep if I sit still; my Fan∣cy does not go by it self, as when my Legs move it: and all those who study without a Book are in the same Condition. The Figure of my Study is round, and has no more flat Wall than what is taken up by my Table and my Chair; so that the remaining parts of the Cir∣cle present me a view of all my Books at once,

set up upon five degrees of Shelves round about me. It has three noble and free Pro∣spects, and is sixteen paces diameter. I am not so continually there in Winter; for my House is built upon an Eminence, as its Name im∣ports, and no part of it is so much expos'd to the Wind and Weather as that, which pleases me the better: for being of a painful access, and a little remote, as well upon the account of Exercise, as being also there more retir'd from the Crowd. 'Tis there that I am in my Kingdom, as we say, and there I endeavour to make my self an absolute Monarch, and to sequester this one corner from all Society both Conjugal, Filial, and Civil. Elsewhere I have but verbal Authority only, and of a confus'd Essence. That man in my Opinion is very mi∣serable, who has not at home where to be by himself, where to entertain himself alone, or to conceal himself from others. Ambition suf∣ficiently plagues her Proselites, by keeping themselves always in shew, like the Statue of a publick Place.* 1.45 Magna Servitus est magna Fortuna. A great Fortune is a great Slavery. They have not so much as a Retirement for the Necessities of Nature. I have thought nothing so severe in the Austerity of Life that our Church-men affect, as what I have observ'd in some of their Societies; namely, to have a per∣petual Society of place by Rule, and nume∣rous Assistants amongst them in every Action whatever; And think it much more suppor∣table to be always alone, than never to be so.

If any one shall tell me, that it is to underva∣lue the Muses, to make use of them only for sport, and to pass away the time; I shall tell him, that he does not know the value of Sport and Pleasure so well as I; if I forbear to add further, that all other end is ridiculous. I live from Hand to Mouth, and, with Reverence be it spoken, I only live for my self; to that all my Designs do tend, and in that terminate. I studied when young for Ostentation; since, to make my self a little wiser; and now for my Diversion, but never for any Profit. A vain and prodigal Humour I had after this sort of Furniture, not only for the supplying my own need and defects, but moreover for Ornament and outward show, I have since quite reav'd my self of. Books have many charming Qua∣lities to such as know how to choose them. But every good has its ill; 'tis a Pleasure that is not pure and clean, no more than others: it has its Inconveniencies, and great ones too. The Mind indeed is exercis'd by it, but the Body, the care of which I must withall never neglect, remains in the mean time without Action, grows heavy and stupid. I know no excess more prejudicial to me, nor more to be avoided in this my declining Age. These are my three beloved, and particular Occupati∣ons; I speak not of those I owe to the World by Civil Obligation.

CHAP. IV. Of Diversion.

I Was once employ'd to consolate a Lady truly afflicted;* 1.46 most of their Mournings are put on, and for outward Ceremony.

Vberibus semper Lacrymis, semperque paratis, In statione sua,* 1.47 atque expectantibus illam Quo jubeat manare modo.

They always have a damm for present use, Ready, and waiting when they draw the Sluce, On least pretences of Joys, Griefs, or Fears, To sally out in false dissembling Tears.

A man goes the wrong way to work, when he opposes this Passion; for Opposition does but irritate and make them more obstinate in Sorrow, and the evil is exasperated by being contended with. We see in common Discourse, that what I have negligently let fall from me, if a man takes hold of it, so as to controvert what I have said, I justifie it with the best Arguments I have; and much more a thing wherein I had a real Interest. And besides, in so doing, you enter rudely upon your Ope∣ration; whereas the first addresses of a Physi∣cian to his Patient should be gracious, gay, and pleasing. Never did any ill-look'd, mo∣rose Physician do any thing to purpose. On

the contrary,* 1.48 then a Man should at the first approaches favour their Grief, and express some Approbation of their Sorrow: By this intelligence you obtain Credit to proceed further, and after a facile and insensible man∣ner fall into Discourses more solid and proper for their Cure. I, whose aim it was principal∣ly to gull the Assistants who had their Eyes fix'd upon me, design'd only to palliate the Disease. And indeed I have found by Experi∣ence, that I have an unluckey hand in persua∣ding. My Arguments are either too sharp, or too flat, and rather press too roughly, or not home enough. After I had some time apply'd my self to her Grief, I did not attempt to cure her by strong and lively Reasons, either be∣cause I wanted them, or because I thought to do my business better another way; neither did I insist upon a choice of any of those me∣thods of Consolation which Philosophy pre∣scribes; That what we complain of is no evil, according to Cleanthes; that it is a light evil, according to the Peripateticks; that to be∣moan ones self is an action neither commenda∣ble nor just, according to Chrysippus; Nor this of Epicurus, more suitable to my way, of shift∣ing the thoughts from afflicting things to those that are pleasing; nor making a bundle of all these together, to make use of upon occasion, according to Cicero; but gently bending my Discourse, and by little and little digressing, sometimes to subjects nearer, and sometimes more remote from the purpose; she was more

intent to what I said, I insensibly depriv'd her of her Sorrow, and kept her calm and in good Humour whilst I continued there. I herein made use of diversion. They who succeeded me in the same service, did not for all that find any amendment in her, for I had not gone to the root. I peradventure may elsewhere have glaunc'd upon some sort of publick diversions. And the practice of Military ones, which Peri∣cles made use of in the Peloponnesian War, with a thousand others in other places to withdraw the adverse Forces from their own Countreys, is too frequent in History. It was an ingenious evasion whereby the Sieur d'Himbercourt sav'd both himself and others in the City of Liege, into which the Duke of Burgundy, who kept it besieg'd had made him enter, to execute the Articles of their promis'd Surrender. These People being assembled by Night to consider of it, begun to mutiny against the past Agree∣ment, and to that degree, that several of them resolv'd to fall upon the Commissioners who had labour'd in it, and whom they had in their power. He feeling the gusts of this first storm of these People, who were coming to rush into his Lodgings, suddenly sent out to them two of the Inhabitants of the City (of which he had some with him) with new and milder terms, to be propos'd in their Counsel, which he had suddenly contriv'd at need. These two diverted the first tempest, carrying back the enrag'd Rabble to the Town-Hall, to hear and consider of what they had to say. The deli∣beration

was short; a second storm arose as full of animosity as the other; whereupon he dispatch'd four new Mediators of the same quality to meet them, protesting that they had now better Conditions to present them with, and such as would give them absolute satisfa∣ction; by which means the Tumult was once more appeas'd, and the People again turn'd back to the Conclave. In fine, by thus order∣ing these amusements one after another, diver∣ting their Fury, and dissipating it in frivolous Consultations, he laid it at last asleep till the day appear'd, which was his principal end. This other story that follows is also of the same predicament. Atalanta, a Virgin of excelling Beauty, and of wonderful disposition of Bo∣dy, to disengage her self from the crowd of a thousand Suitors who sought her in marriage, made this Proposition, that she would accept of him for her Husband who should equal her in Running, upon condition that they who fail'd should lose their Lives; there were enough who thought the Prize very well worth the hazard, and who suffered the pe∣nalty of the bloody Contract. Hippomenes, be∣ing to make tryal after the rest, makes his ad∣dress to the Goddess of Love, imploring her assistance, who granting his request, gave him three golden Apples, and instructed him how to use them. The ground they run upon be∣ing an even Plane, as Hippomenes perceiv'd his Mistress to press hard up to him, he, as it were by chance, let fall one of these Apples; the

Maid, taken with the beauty of it, fail'd not to step out of her way to take it up:

Obstupuit virgo,* 1.49 nitidique cupidine pomi Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit.

The nimble Virgin, dazzel'd to behold The glittering Apple tumbling o're the mold, Stop'd her career to seize the rowling Gold.

He did the same, when he saw his time, by the second and the third, till by so diverting her, and making her lose so much ground, he won the Course. When Physicians cannot stop a Catarrh, they divert, and turn it into some other less dangerous part. And I find also that is the most ordinary practice for the diseases of the Mind.* 1.50 Abducendus etiam nonnunquam animus est, ad alia studia, sollicitudines, curas, negotia: Loci denique mutatione, tanquam aegroti non con∣valescentes, saepe curandus est. The mind is some∣times to be diverted to other Studies, Thoughts, Cares, and Business: and lastly, by change of place, as sick Persons that do not recover are or∣der'd change of Air. 'Tis to little effect direct∣ly to justle a man's Infirmities, we neither make him sustain, nor repell the attack; we only make him decline and evade it. This other lesson is too high and too difficult. 'Tis for men of the first Form of knowledge purely to insist upon the thing, to consider and judge of it. It appertains to one sole Socrates only, to entertain Death with an indifferent Counte∣nance,

to grow acquainted with it, and to sport with it; he seeks no consolation out of the thing it self; dying appears to him a na∣tural and indifferent accident, 'tis there that he fixes his sight and resolution, without looking elsewhere. The Disciples of Hegesias, that pine themselves to death, animated thereunto by his fine Lectures, which were so frequent, that King Ptolomy order'd he should be forbidden to entertain his followers with such homicide Doctrines: those People do not consider death it self, neither do they judge of it; it is not there that they fix their Thoughts, they run towards, and aim at a new Being. The poor wretches that we see brought upon the Scaf∣fold, full of ardent devotion, and therein, as much as in them lies, employing all their Sen∣ses, their Ears in hearing the instructions are given them, their Eyes and Hands lifted up towards Heaven, their Voices in loud Pray∣ers, with a vehement and continual emotion, are doubtless things very commendable and proper for such a necessity. We ought to com∣mend them for their Devotion, but not pro∣perly for their constancy. They shun the en∣counter, they divert their thoughts from the consideration of death, as Children are amus'd with some Toy or other, when the Chirurgi∣on is going to give them a prick with his Lan∣cet. I have seen some, who casting sometimes their eyes upon the dreadful Instruments of death round about, have fainted, and furiously turn'd their thoughts another way. Such as

are to pass a formidable Precipice, are advis'd either to shut their eyes or to look another way. Subrius Flavius, being by Nero's command to be put to death, and by the hand of Niger, both of them great Captains; when they led him to the place appointed for his Execution, seeing the hole that Niger had caus'd to be hol∣low'd to put him into ill-favour'dly contriv'd: Neither is this, said he, turning to the Souldi∣ers who guarded him, according to Military Discipline. And to Niger, who exhorted him to keep his head firm; do but thou strike as firmly, said he. And he very well fore-saw what would follow, when he said so; for Ni∣ger's arm so trembled, that he had several blows at his head before he could cut it off. This man seems to have had his thoughts rightly fix'd upon the subject: he that dyes in a Battel, with his Sword in his hand, does not then think of death, he feels, nor considers it not; the ardour of the Fight diverts his thoughts another way. An honest Man of my acquain∣tance, falling as he was fighting a Duel at sin∣gle Rapier, and feeling himself nail'd to the earth by nine or ten thrusts of his Enemy, every one present call'd to him to think of his Conscience; but he has since told me, that though he very well heard what they said, it nothing mov'd him, and that he never thought of any thing but how to disengage and re∣venge himself. He afterwards kill'd his Man in that very Duel. He who brought L. Syllanus the sentence of Death, did him a very great

kindness, in that having receiv'd his answer, that he was well prepar'd to dye, but not by base hands, he run upon him with his Souldiers to force him; and as he, naked as he was, obsti∣nately defended himself with his fists and feet, he made him lose his Life in the dispute; by that means dissipating and diverting in a sud∣den and furious Rage the painful apprehension of the lingring Death to which he was de∣sign'd. We always think of something else; ei∣ther the hope of a better Life comforts and supports us, or the hope of our Childrens Va∣lour, or the future glory of our Name, or the leaving behind the evils of this Life, or the Vengeance that threatens those who are the causers of our death, administers Consolation to us.

* 1.51Spero equidem mediis, si quid pia numina possunt, Supplicia hausurum scopulis & nomine Dido Saepe vocaturum. Audiam, & haec manes veniet mihi fama subimos.

* 1.52Sure if the Gods have any power at all, Split on a Rock, thou shalt on Dido call. —thy Fortunes I shall know By Fame convey'd me to the shades below.

Xenophon was sacrificing with a Crown up∣on his Head, when one came to bring him News of the Death of his Son Gryllus,* 1.53 slain in the Battel of Mantinea. At the first surprize of the News, he threw his Crown to the

Ground; but understanding by the sequel of the Narrative, the manner of a most brave and valiant Death, he took it up, and replac'd it upon his Head. Epicurus himself, at his Death, consolates himself upon the Utility and Eter∣nity of his Writings. Omnes clari,* 1.54 & nobili∣tati Labores, fiunt tolerabiles. All Labours that are illustrious▪ and renown'd, are supportable. And the same Wound, the same Fatigue, is not, says Xenophon, so intolerable to a General of an Army, as to a common Souldier.* 1.55 Epami∣nondas dyed much more cheerful, having been inform'd that the Victory remain'd to him. Haec sunt solatia,* 1.56 haec fomenta summorum Dolo∣rum. These are lenitives, and fomentations to the greatest Pains. And such other Circum∣stances amuse, divert, and turn our thoughts from the consideration of the thing in it self. Even the Arguments of Philosophy are always diverting, and putting by the Matter, so as scarce to rub upon the Sore. The greatest man of the first Philosophical School, and Su∣perintendent over all the rest, the great Zeno, against Death forms this Syllogism: No Evil is honourable; but Death is honourable: There∣fore Death is no Evil. Against Drunkenness this; No one commits his Secrets to a Drun∣kard; but every one commits his Secrets to a Wise Man: therefore a wise man is no Drunkard. Is this to hit the white? I love to see, that these great and leading Souls cannot rid them∣selves of our Company. As perfect men as they would be, they are yet but simple men.

Revenge is a sweet Passion, of great and natu∣ral impression; I discern it well enough, though I have no manner of Experience of it. From which, not long ago, to divert a young Prince; I did not tell him that he must, to him who had struck him upon the one Cheek, turn the other, upon the account of Charity; nor go about to represent to him the tragical Events that Poetry attributes to this Passion; I did not touch upon that string; but made it my Business to make him relish the Beauty of a contrary Image: and by representing to him what Honour, Esteem, and good Will he would acquire by Clemency and good Nature, di∣verted him to Ambition. Thus a man is to deal in such Cases. If your Passion of Love be too violent, disperse it, say they, and they say true; for I have oft try'd it with Advantage: break it into several Desires, of which let one be regent if you will over the rest; but, lest it should tyrannize and domineer over you, wea∣ken and protract, in dividing and diverting it;

* 1.57Cum morosa vago singultiet inguine venae.

* 1.58Conjicito humorem collectum in Corpora quaeque.

and look to't in time, lest it proves too trou∣blesome to deal with, when it has once seiz'd you.

Si non prima novis conturbes vulvera plagis, * 1.59Volgivagaque vagus venere ante recentia cures.

Unless you fancy every one you view,* 1.60 Revel in Love, and cure old Wounds by new.

I was once wounded with a vehement Dis∣pleasure, and withal, more just than vehement; I might peradventure have lost my self in it, if I had merely trusted to my own Strength. Ha∣ving need of a powerful Diversion to disen∣gage me, by amorous Art and Study, wherein I was assisted by my Youth, I found one out: Love reliev'd and rescu'd me from the evil wherein Friendship had engag'd me. 'Tis in every thing else the same; a violent Imagina∣tion hath seiz'd me, I find it a nearer way to change, than to subdue it: I depute, if not one contrary, yet another at least in its place. Va∣riation does always relieve, dissolve, and dis∣sipate; if I am not able to contend with it, I escape from it; and in avoiding it slip out of the way, and make my doubles: shifting of Place, Business, and Company, I secure my self in the crowd of other Thoughts and Fancies, where it loses my trace, and I escape. After the same manner does Nature proceed, by the benefit of Inconstancy;* 1.61 for the time she has given us for the sovereign Physician of our Passions, does chiefly work by that, that sup∣plying our Imaginations with other, and new Affairs, it un-nerves, and dissolves the first apprehension, how strong soever. A wise man sees his Friend little less dying at the end of five and twenty years, than the first year, and according to Epicurus, no less at all; for he

did not attribute any alleviation of Afflictions, neither to the foresight of the man, or the An∣tiquity of the Evils themselves. But so many other thoughts traverse the first, that it lan∣guishes and tires at last. Alcibiades, to divert the Inclination of common Rumours, cut off the Ears and Tail of his beautiful Dog, and turn'd him out into the publick place, to the end, that giving the People this occasion to prate, they might let his other Actions alone. I have also seen, for this same end of diverting the Opinions and Conjectures of the People, and to stop their Mouths, some Women con∣ceal their real Affections by those that were only counterfeit, and put on to blind mens Eyes; but some of them withall, who in coun∣terfeiting have suffer'd themselves to be caught indeed, and who have quitted the true and original Affection, for the feign'd: and by them have found, that they who find their Affections well plac'd are Fools to consent to this disguise. The favourable and publick re∣ception being only reserv'd for this pretended Servant, a man may conclude him a Fellow of very little address, and less Wit, if he does not in the end put himself into your place, and you into his; this is properly to cut out, and make up a Shooe for another to draw on. A little thing will turn and divert us; because a little thing holds us. We do not much consider Subjects in gross, and single in them∣selves; but they are little and superficial Circumstances that wound us, and the out∣ward

useless rinds that pill off those Sub∣jects.

Folliculos ut nunc teretes aestate cicadae* 1.62 Linquunt. —

Such as the terous husks, or shells we find In Summer, Grashoppers do leave behind.

Even Plutarch himself laments his Daughter for the little apish tricks of her Infancy. The remembrance of a Farewel, of the particular grace of an Action, of a last recommendation afflicts us. The sight of Caesar's Robe troubled all Rome, which was more than his death had done. Even the sound of Names ringing in our ears, as, my poor Master, my faithful Friend; Alas, my dear Father, or, my sweet Daughter, afflict us. When these Repetitions torment me, and that I examin it a little nearer, I find 'tis no other but a Grammatical complaint; I am only wounded with the word and tone, as the Exclamations of Preachers do very oft work more upon their Auditory than their Reasons, and as the pitiful eyes of a Beast kill'd for Ser∣vice, without my weighing, or penetrating in the interim into the true and real essence of my Subject.

His se stimulis dolor ipse lacessit.* 1.63

With these incitements grief it self provokes.

These are the foundations of our mourning. The obstinacy of my Stone to all remedies,

especially those in my Bladder, has sometimes thrown me into so long suppressions of Urine for three or four days together, and so near death, that it had been folly to have hop'd to evade it, and it was much rather to have been desir'd, considering the miseries I endure in those: cruel Fits.* 1.64 Oh that the good Emperour, who caus'd Criminals to be ty'd that they might dye for want of pissing, was a great Master in the▪ Hangman's Science! Finding my self in this condition, I consider'd by how many light cau∣ses and objects Imagination nourish'd in me the regret of Life; and of what Atoms the weight and difficulty of this dislodging was compos'd in my Soul, and to how many idle and frivo∣lous thoughts we give way in so great an Af∣fair. A Dog, a Horse, a Book, a Glass, and what not? were consider'd in my loss. To others, their ambitious hopes, their money, their knowledge, not less foolish Considerations in my opinion than mine. I look upon Death carelesly, when I look upon it universally as the end of Life. I insult over it in gross; but in retail it domineers over me. The Tears of a Foot-man, the disposing of my Cloaths, the touch of a friendly hand, which is a common Consolation, discourages and entenerates me. So do the Complaints in Tragedies infect our Souls with Grief, and the Regrets of Dido and Ariadne, impassionate even those who believe them not in Virgil and Catullus. 'Tis a simptom of an obstinate and obdurate Nature, to be sensible of no emotion; as 'tis reported for a

Miracle of Polemon; who not so much as al∣ter'd his Countenance at the biting of a mad-Dog, who tore away the Calf of his Leg. And no Wisdom proceeds so far, as to conceive so lively and entire a cause of Sorrow by Judg∣ment, that it does not suffer an increase by presence, where the Eyes and Ears have their share; parts that are not to be moved but by vain accidents. Is it reason, that even the Arts themselves should make an advantage of our natural brutality and weakness? An Orator, says Rhetorick, in the farce of his pleading, shall be mov'd with the sound of his own Voice and feign'd Emotions, and suffer him∣self to be impos'd upon by the passion he re∣presents; he will imprint in himself a true and real Grief, by means of the part he plays, to transmit it to the Audience, who are yet less concern'd than he: as they do, who are hir'd at Funerals to assist in the ceremony of Sor∣row, who fell their Tears and Mourning by weight and measure. For although they act in a borrow'd Form, nevertheless by habitua∣ting themselves, and settling their Countenances to the occasion, 'tis most certain, they oft are really affected with a true and real Sorrow. I was one, amongst several other of his Friends, who convey'd the Body of Monsieur de Gram∣mont to Soissons, from the siege of la Fere, where he was slain; I observ'd that in all pla∣ces we pass'd through, we met with sorrowful Countenances occasion'd by the meer solemn pomp of our Convoy, for the Name of the De∣funct

was not there so much as known. Quin∣tillian reports, to have seen Comedians so deep∣ly engag'd in a Mourning part, that they could not give over weeping when they came home, and who, having taken upon them to stir up Passion in another, have themselves espous'd it to that degree, as to find themselves infected with it, not only to Tears, but moreover with Paleness, and the comportment of men really over-whelm'd with Grief. In a Countrey near our Mountains, the Women play Priest Mar∣tin, that is to say, both the Priest and the Clerk, for as they augment the regret of the deceased Husband, by the remembrance of the good and agreeable Qualities he was master of; they al∣so at the same time make a register of, and publish his imperfections; as if of themselves to enter into some compensation, and so di∣vert themselves from compassion to disdain; and yet with much better grace, than we, who when we lose an old Acquaintance, strive to give him new and false praises, and to make him quite another thing when we have lost sight of him, than he appear'd to us when we did see him: as if regret was an instructive thing, or that tears, by washing our Under∣standings, clear'd them. For my part, I hence∣forth renounce all favourable testimonies men would give of me, not because I shall not be worthy of them, but because I shall be dead. Whoever shall ask a man, what Interest have you in this Siege? the interest of Example, he will say, and of the common obedience to my

Prince: I pretend to no profit by it; and for glory, I know how small a part can reflect up∣on such a private man as I: I have here nei∣ther passion nor quarrel. And yet you shall see him the next day quite another man, cha∣sing, and red with fury, rang'd in Battel for the Assault; 'tis the glittering of so much Steel, the fire and noise of our Canon and Drums, that have infus'd this new Rancour and Fury into his Veins. A frivolous Cause you will say, how a Cause? There needs none to agitate the mind; a meer whimsie without body and without subject will rule and sway it. Let me think of building Castles in Spain, my imagination suggests to me Conveniences and Pleasures with which my Soul is really delighted and pleas'd. How oft do we tor∣ment our Mind with Anger or Sorrow by such shadows, and engage our selves in fantastick Passions that alter both the Soul and Body? What astonish'd, fleering, and confus'd Grima∣ces does this raving put our Faces into! What sallies and agitation both of Members and Voi∣ces does it inspire us with? Does it not seem that this individual man has false Visions from the crowd of others with whom he has to do, or, that he is possess'd with some internal Dae∣mon that persecutes him? Enquire of your self, where is the object of this Mutation? Is there any thing but us in Nature, but subsist∣ing nullity, over which it has power? Camby∣ses, for having dreamt that his Brother should be one day King of Persia, put him to death:

a beloved Brother, and one in whom he had always confided. Aristodemus, King of the Messenians, kill'd himself out of a fancy of ill Omen, from I know not what howling of his Dogs; and King Midas did as much upon the account of some foolish dream he had dream'd. 'Tis to prize Life at its just value, to abandon it for a dream; and yet here the Soul triumphs over the miseries and weakness of the Body, and truly in that it is expos'd to all offences and alterations, it has reason to speak after this manner;

* 1.65O prima infoelix fingenti Terra Prometheo! Ille parum cauti pectori egit opus. Corpora disponens, mentem non vidit in arte, Recta Animi primum debuit esse via.

Oh, 'twas for man a most unhappy Day, When rash Prometheus form'd him out of Clay! In his attempt th'ambitious Architect Did indiscreetly the main thing neglect. In framing Bodies, he had not the Art To form the Mind, which is the chiefest part.

CHAP. V. Vpon some Verses of Virgil.

BY how much profitable Thoughts are more full and solid, by so much are they also more cumbersome and heavy. Vice, Death,

Poverty, Diseases, are grave and grievous Subjects. A man must have his Soul instructed in the means to sustain and to contend with Evils, and in the rules of living and believing well; and often rouse it up, and exercise it in this noble study. But in an ordinary Soul, it must be by intervals, and with Moderation; it will otherwise grow besotted if continual∣ly intent upon it. I found it necessary when I was young, to put my self in mind, and to sollicit my self to keep me to my Duty; Gay∣ety and Health do not, they say, so well agree with those grave and serious Meditations: I am at present in another Condition. The In∣dispositions of Age do but too much put me in mind, and preach to me. From the excess of spriteliness, I am fallen into that of Severi∣ty; which is much more troublesome. And for that reason, I now suffer my self on pur∣pose, a little to run into disorder; and some∣times busie my Mind in wanton and youthful Thoughts, wherewith it diverts it self. I am of late but too reserv'd, too heavy, and too ripe; my Age does every day read to me new Lectures of Coldness and Temperance. This Body of mine avoids Disorder, and dreads it; 'tis now my Body's turn to guide my Mind to∣wards Reformation; it governs in turn, and more rudely and imperiously than the other; it lets me not an hour alone, sleeping nor wa∣king: but is always preaching to me, Death, Patience, and Repentance. I now defend my self from Temperance, as I have formerly done

from Pleasure; it draws me too much back, and even to Stupidity. Now I will be Master of my self to all intents and purposes. Wisdom has its excess, and has no less need of Modera∣tion than Folly. Therefore, lest I should wi∣ther, dry up, and overcharge my self with Prudence, in the intervals and truces my Infir∣mities allow me,

* 1.66Mens intenta suis ne siet usque malis.

That my Mind may'nt eternally be bent And fix'd upon Subjects discontent.

I gently decline it, and turn away my Eyes from the stormy and frowning Sky I have be∣fore me; which, thanks be to God, I consider without Fear, but not without Meditation and Debate. And amuse my self in the remem∣brance of my better years:

* 1.67— Animus quod perdidit, optat Atque in praeterita se totus imagine versat.

The Mind what it has lost, wishes to have, And on things past eternally does rave.

Let Infancy look forward, and Age backward; Is not this the signification of Janus his double Face? Let Years hale me along if they will, but it shall be backward: As long as my Eyes can discern the pleasant Season expir'd, I shall now and then turn them that way. Though

it escape from my Blood and Veins, I shall not however root the Image of it out of my Memory.

— hoc est,* 1.68 Vivere bis, Vita posse priore fui.

'Tis to live twice to him who can obtain Of thought t'enjoy his former Life again.

Plato ordains, that old men should be pre∣sent at the Exercises, Dances, and Sports of young People, that they may rejoyce in others, for the Activity and Beauty of Body, which is no more in themselves; and call to mind the Grace and Comeliness of that flourishing Age: And will, that in these Recreations, the Ho∣nour of the prize should be given to that young man who has most diverted the Company. I was formerly wont to mark cloudy and gloo∣my days, for extraordinary; those are now my ordinary ones, the extraordinary are the clear and bright, I am ready to leap out of my Skin for Joy, as for an unwonted favour, when nothing ails me. Let me tickle my self presently after, I cannot force a poor smile from this wretched Body of mine. I am only merry in conceit, by artifice to divert the me∣lancholly of Age; but doubtless it requires another Remedy ••han the Efficacy of a Dream. A weak contest of Art against Nature. 'Tis great folly to lengthen and anticipate humane Inconveniencies, as every one does. I had ra∣ther

be a less while old, than to be old before I am really so. I seize on even the least oc∣ccasions of Pleasure I can meet; I know very well, by hear-say, several sorts of prudent Plea∣sures, that are effectually so, and glorious to boot: but Opinion has not power enough over me, to give me an Appetite to them. I covet not so much to have them magnanimous, magnifick, and lofty; as I do to have them sweet, facile, and ready. A Natura discedimus, Populo nos damus, nullius rei bono auctori. We depart from Nature, and give our selves to the People who understand nothing. My Philosophy is in Action, in natural and present Practice, very little in Fancy. What if I have a Mind to play at Cob-nut, or to whip a Top?

* 1.69Non ponebat enim Rumores ante Salutem.

— He was too wise Idle Reports before his Health to prize.

Pleasure is a Quality of very little Ambiti∣on, it thinks it self rich enough of it self, with∣out any addition of Repute; and is best pleas'd where most obscure. A young man should be whipt, who pretends to a Palate in Wine and Sawces; there was nothing which at that Age I less valued or knew; now I be∣gin to learn. I am very mu••h asham'd on't; but what should I do? I am more asham'd and vex'd at the Occasions that put me upon't. 'Tis for us to doat and trifle away the time,

and for Young-men to stand upon their Re∣putation, and the Punctilio's of Honour; they are going towards the World, and the Worlds Opinion, we are retiring from it. Sibi Arma,* 1.70 sibi Equos, sibi Hastas, sibi Clavam, sibi Pilam, sibi Nationes, & Cursus habent: nobis senibus, ex lusionibus multis, talos relinquant & tesseras. Let them reserve to themselves, Arms, Horses, Spears, Clubs, Tennis, Swimming, and Races; and of their numerous Sports and Exercises, leave to us old Men the diversion of Cards and Dice. The Laws themselves send us home to our Lodgings. I can do no less in favour of this wretched Condition, into which my Age has thrown me, than furnish it with Toys to play withall, as they do Children, and we also become such. Both Wisdom and Folly will have enough to do to support and relieve me by alternate Offices in this Calamity of Age.

Misce stultitiam consiliis brevem.* 1.71

Short follies mix with Counsels wise.

I accordingly avoid the lightest Punctures, and those that formerly would not have rip∣pled the Skin, do now pierce me through and through: My habit of Body is now so natu∣rally declining to Evil: In fragili corpore odi∣osa omnis offensio est. To a decrepid Body all offence is hatefull.

Mensque pati durum sustinet aegra nihil.* 1.72

And a sick Mind nothing that's hard endures.

I have ever been tender in matters of offence, I am much more tender now, and open through∣out.

* 1.73Et minime vires frangere quassa valent.

And little force will break what's crack'd before.

My Judgment restrains me from kicking against, and murmuring at the inconveniencies that Nature orders me to endure, but it does not take away my Feeling: I, who have no other thing in my prospect but to live and be merry, would run from one end of the World to the other to seek out one good Year of pleasant and jocund Tranquility. A melancho∣lick and dull Tranquility, is, I confess, enough for me, but it benumns, stupifies, and besots me, I am not contented with it: If there be any Person, any knot of good Company in Countrey or City, in France, or elsewhere, Resident, or in Motion, who can like my Hu∣mour, and whose Humours I can like, let them but whistle, and I will run to furnish them with Essays of Flesh and Bone. Seeing it is the priviledge of the Mind to rescue it self from old Age▪ I advise mine to it with all the power I have, let it in the interim continue green, and flourish if it can like Mistletoe up∣on a dead Tree: But I fear 'tis a Traytor, it has contracted so strict a Fraternity with the Body, that it leaves me at every turn to follow that in its need. I wheedle and deal with it apart in vain; I try to much purpose to wean

it from this Correspondence; to much effect quote to it Seneca and Catullus, and represent to it beautiful Ladies, and Royal Masques; if its Companion have the Stone, it seems to have it too. Even the Faculties that are most peculiarly and properly its own, cannot then perform their Functions, but manifestly appear stupified and asleep; there is no spriteliness in its Productions, if there be not at the same time an equal Proportion in the Body too. Our Masters are too blame, that in searching out the causes of the extraordinary emotions of the Soul, besides attributing it to a Divine Extasie, Love, Martial Fierceness, Poesie, and Wine, they have not also attributed a part to Health. A boyling, vigorous, full, and lazy Health, such as formerly the verdure of Youth and security by fits supply'd me withall; that Fire of Spriteliness and Gayety darts into the Mind flashes that are lively and bright beyond our natural Light, and with the most working, if not the most desparate Enthusiasms: It is then no wonder if a contrary Estate stupifie and clog my Spirit, and produce a contrary Effect.

Ad nullum consurgit opus cum corpore languet.* 1.74

For when the Body languishing doth lye, I to no Office can my self apply.

And yet would have me oblig'd to it, for gi∣ving much less consent to this Stupidity than

other men of my Age ordinarily do. Let us at least whilst we have Truce, drive away incom∣modities and difficulties from our Commerce.

* 1.75Dum licet obducta solvatur fronte senectus:

* 1.76Whilst Strength is fresh, and us it well becoms, Let's old Age banish which the Brow benums.

Tetrica sunt amaenanda jocularibus.* 1.77 Soure things are to be sweetned with those that are pleasant. I love a gay and civil Wisdom, and fly from all sourness and austerity of Manners, all grum∣ness of Faction being suspected to me. I am very much of Plato's Opinion, who says, That facile or difficile Humours are a great Preju∣dice to the good or ill Disposition of the Mind. Socrates had a constant Countenance, but with∣all, serene and smiling; not sourely constant, like the elder Crassus, that never any one saw Laugh. Virtue is a pleasant and gay Quali∣ty. I know very well that few will quarrel with the liberty of my Writings, who have not more to quarrel with in the Licence of their own Thoughts: I conform my self well enough to their Inclinations, but I offend their Eyes. 'Tis a pretty Humour to strain the Wri∣tings of Plato, to wrest his pretended Negoti∣ation with Phaedo, Dion, Stella, and Archea∣nassa. Non pudeat dicere, quod non pudeat sentire. Let us not be asham'd to speak, what we are not asham'd to think. I hate a froward and pensive Spirit, that slips over all the Pleasures of Life,

and seizes and feeds upon Misfortunes; like Flies, that cannot stick to a sleek and polish'd Body, but fix and repose themselves upon craggy and rough Places; and like Cupping∣glasses, that only suck and attract the worst Blood. As to the rest, I have enjoyn'd my self to dare to say all that I dare to do, and even thoughts that are not to be publish'd dis∣please me; the worst of my Actions and Qua∣lities do not appear to me so foul, as I find it foul and base not to dare to own them. Eve∣ry one is wary and discreet in Confession, but men ought to be so in Action. The boldness of doing ill is in some sort recompenc'd and restrain'd by the boldness of confessing it. Whoever will oblige himself to tell all, should oblige himself to do nothing that he must be forc'd to conceal. I wish that this excessive License of mine may draw men to freedom, above these timorous and mincing pretended vertues sprung from our imperfections; and that at the expence of my immoderation, I may reduce them to reason. A man must see and study his Vice to correct it; they who con∣ceal it from others, commonly conceal it from themselves; and do not think they sin close enough, if they themselves see it. They with∣draw and disguise them from their own Con∣sciences. Quare vitia sua nemo confitetur?* 1.78 Quia etiam nunc in illis est, somnium narrare vigilan∣tis est. Why does no man confess his Vices? Be∣cause he is yet in them; 'tis for a waking man to tell his dream. The diseases of the Body ex∣plain

themselves in increasing. We find that to be the Gout, which we call'd a Rheum or a Strain. The diseases of the Soul, the greater they are, keep themselves the more obscure; and the most sick are the least sensible. There∣fore it is, that with an unrelenting hand, they must often in the day be taken to task, open'd, and torn from the hollow of the heart. As in doing well, so in doing ill, the meer confessi∣on is sometimes satisfaction. Is there any de∣formity in doing amiss that can excuse us from confessing our selves? It is so great a pain to me to dissemble, that I evade the trust of anothers Secrets, wanting the heart to dis∣avow my knowledge. I can conceal it, but de∣ny it I cannot, without the greatest trouble and violence to my self imaginable. To be ve∣ry secret, a man must be so by nature, not by obligation. 'Tis little worth in the service of a Prince to be secret, if a man be not a Lyar to boot. If he who ask'd Thales the Milesian, whether he ought solemnly to deny that he had committed uncleanness, had apply'd him∣self to me, I should have told him, that he ought not to do it;* 1.79 for I look upon Lying as a worse fault than the other. Thales advis'd him quite contrary, bidding him swear to se∣cure the greater fault by the less: neverthe∣less this counsel was not so much an election as a multiplication of Vice. Upon which, let us say this by the bye, that we deal sincerely and well with a man of Conscience, when we propose to him some difficulty in counterpoise

of the Vice; but when we shut him up be∣twixt two Vices, he is put to a hard choice: as Origen was, either to Idolatrize, or to suffer himself to be carnally abus'd by a great Ethio∣pian Slave was brought to him. He submitted to the first condition, and vitiously, says one. And yet those Women of our times are not to be dislik'd, who, according to their errour, protest, they had rather burden their Consci∣ences with ten men than one Mass. If it be indiscretion so to publish their Errors, yet there is no great danger that it pass into Ex∣ample and Custom. For Aristo said, that the winds men most fear'd, were those that laid them open; we must tuck up this ridiculous rag that hides our manners: they send their Consciences to the Stewes, and keep a starch'd Countenance: Even Traytors and Assassins espouse the Laws of Ceremony, and there fix their Duty; so that neither can Injustice complain of incivility, nor Malice of indis∣cretion. 'Tis pity but an ill man should be a Fool to boot, and that Decency should palliate his Vice. This rough-cast only ap∣pertains to a good and sound Wall, that deserves to be preserv'd and whited. In fa∣vour of the Hugonots,* 1.80 who condemn our Au∣ricular and private Confession, I confess my self in publick, religiously and purely. St. Au∣gustin, Origen, and Hippocrates, have publish'd the Errors of their Opinions; and I moreover of my Manners. I am greedy of making my self known, and I care not to how many, provided it

be truly; or to say better, I hunger for no∣thing, but I mortally hate to be mistaken by those who come to learn my Name. He that does all things for Honour and Glory, what can he think to gain by shewing himself to the World in a Vizor; and by concealing his true Being from the People? Commend a crooked Fellow for his Stature, he has reason to take it for an affront: If you are a Cow∣ard, and that men commend you for your Valour, is it of you that they speak? They take you for another. I should like him as well, who glorifies himself in the Complements and Congees are made him, as if he were Master of the Company, when he is one of the most inferiour of the Train. Archelaus, King of Ma∣cedonia, walking along the Street, some body threw Water on his Head; which they who were with him, said he ought to punish: I, but said he, whoever it was, he did not throw the Water upon me, but upon him who he took me to be. Socrates being told that People spoke ill of him, Not at all, said he, there is nothing in me of what they say. For my part, if any one should commend me for a good Pilot, for being very modest, or very chaste, I should owe him no Thanks. And also, who∣ever ever should call me Traitor, Robber, or Drun∣kard, I should be as little concern'd. They who do not rightly know themselves, may feed themselves with false Approbations; not I, who see my self, and who examine my self even to my very Bowels, and who very well

know what is my due. I am content to be less commended, provided I am better known. I may be reputed a wise man in such a sort of wisdom as I take to be folly. I am vex'd that my Essays only serve the Ladies for a common moveable, a Book to lye in the Parlour Win∣dow; this Chapter shall prefer me to the Clo∣set; I love to traffick with them a little in private; publick conversation is without fa∣vour, and without favour. In farewels, we above ordinary heat our Affections towards the things we take leave of. I take my last leave of the pleasures of this World, these are our last embraces. But to return to my Sub∣ject: What he rendred the act of Generation, an act so natural, so necessary, and so fit for men, a thing not to be spoken of without blushing; and to be excluded from all serious and regular Discourses? We boldly pronounce kill, rob, betray, but the other we dare only to mutter betwixt the Teeth. Is it to say, that the less we say in Words, we may pay it so much the more with thinking? For it is cer∣tain, that the Words least in use, most seldom writ, and best kept in, are the best, and most generally known. No Age, no Manners are ignorant of them, nay, more than the Word bread. They imprint themselves in every one, without being express'd, without Voice, and without Figure. And the Sex that most pra∣ctices it, is bound to say least of it. 'Tis an act that we have plac'd in the Free-franchise of Silence, from whence to take it is a Crime.

We are not to accuse and judge it; neither dare we reprehend it but by Periphrasis, and in Pi∣cture. A great favour to a Criminal, to be so exe∣crable, that Justice thinks it unjust to touch and see him; free, and safe by the benefit of the severity of his Condemnation. Is it not here as in matter of Books, that sell better, and be∣come more publick for being suppress'd? For my part, I will take Aristotle at his word, who says,* 1.81 that Bashfulness is an Ornament to Youth, but a Reproach to old Age. These Verses are preach'd in the antient School, a School that I much more adhere to than the Modern; the Virtues of it appear to me to be greater, and the Vices less.

* 1.82Ceux qui par trop fuyant Venus estrivent, Faillent autant que ceux qui trop la suivent.

They err as much Venus too much forbear, As they who in her Rites too frequent are.

* 1.83Tu Dea, tu rerum naturam sola gubernas, Nec sine te quicquam dias in luminis oras Exoritur, neque fit laetum, nec amabile quicquam.

* 1.84Thou, Nature's powerful Ruler, without whom Nothing that's lovely, nothing gay can come From darksome Chaos deep, and ugly Womb.

I know not who could set Pallas and the Muses at variance with Venus, and make them cold towards Love; but I see no Deities so well met, or that are more indebted to one another. Who will deprive the Muses of amo∣rous

Imaginations, will rob them of the best Entertainment they have, and of the noblest matter of their Work: and who will make Love lose the Communication and Service of Poesi, will disarm him of his best Arms. By this means they charge the God of Familiarity and good Will, and the protecting Goddesses of Humanity and Justice, with the Vice of Ingratitude and Unthankfulness. I have not been so long casheer'd from the State and Ser∣vice of this God, that my Memory is not still perfect in his Force and Power.

—agnosco veteris vestigia flammae.* 1.85

Of my old flame some Foot-steps yet remain.

There are yet some remains of heat and emo∣tion after the Fever;

Nec mihi deficiat calor hic, hyemantibus Annis.

Of Youth though I am past the burning rage, I have some heat yet in my Winter Age.

Wither'd and drooping as I am, I feel yet some remains of that past ardour.

Qual l'atto Aegeo per che Aquilone o Noto* 1.86 Cessi, che tutto prima il vuolse, & scosse, Non S'accheta ci pero, ma'l son•• e'l moto, Ritien de l'onde anco agitate è grosse.

* 1.87As Aegean Seas, when storms be calm'd again, That roul'd their tumbling Waves with trou∣blous blasts, Do yet of Tempests pass'd, some shews retain, And here and there their swelling billows cast.

But for what I understand of it, the force and power of this God are more lively and anima∣ting in the Picture of Poesie than in their own Essence.

* 1.88Et versus digitos habet.

For there is charming harmony in Verse.

It has, I know not what kind of air more amo∣rous than Love it self; Venus is not so beauti∣ful, naked, alive, and panting, as she is here in Virgil.

* 1.89Dixerat, & niveis, hinc atque hinc Diva lacertis Cunctantem amplexu molli fovet: Ille repente Accepit solitam flammam, notusque medullas Intravit calor, & labefacta per ossa cucurrit. Non secus, atque olim tonitru cum rupta corusco Ignea rima micans percurrit limine nimbos.

& paulo post.

— ea verba loquutus, Optatos dedit amplexus, placidumque petivit Conjugis infusus gremio per membra soporem.

* 1.90The Goddess here round in her snowy arms In soft embraces him consulting warms;

Straight he takes fire, and through his marrow came Accustom'd heat, which did his blood inflame: So from a fiery Breach erupted flies, Shining with flame, bright Thunder from the Skies.

and a little after.

— This having said, After a sweet Embrace he takes his rest, Reposing on the beauteous Goddess Breast.

All that I find fault with in considering it, is, that he has represented her a little too Pas∣sionate for a married Venus. In this discreet kind of coupling, the Appetite is not usually so wanton, but more grave and dull. Love hates that People should hold of any but her∣self, and goes but faintly to work in Familia∣rities derived from any other title, as Marri∣age is. The Alliance and Dowry do therein sway by Reason as much or more than Grace and Beauty. Men do not marry for themselves, though they deny it, they marry as much or more for their Posterity and Family. The Cu∣stom and Interest of Marriage concerns our Race much more than us; and therefore it is, that I like to have a Match carried on by a third hand, rather than a Man's own, and by another Man's liking than that of the Party himself; and how much is all this opposite to contracts of Love? And also it is a kind of Incest to employ in this venerable and sacred Alliance, the heat and extravagance of amo∣rous

Licence, as I think I have said elsewhere. A man, says Ariosto, must approach his Wife with Prudence and Modesty, lest in dealing too lasciviously with her, the extream Plea∣sure make her exceed the bounds of Reason. What he says upon the account of Conscience, the Physicians say upon the account of Health: That a Pleasure excessively lascivious, volup∣tuous, and frequent, makes the Seed too hot, and hinders Conception: 'Tis said on the contrary, that to a languishing Congression, as that naturally is, to supply it with a due and fruitfull Heat, a man must do it but seldom, and by notable Intermissions;

* 1.91Quod rapiat sitiens venerem interiusque recondat.

I see no marriages where the conjugal Intelli∣gence sooner fails, than those that we contract upon the account of Beauty and amorous De∣sires; there should be more solid and constant foundation, and they should proceed with greater Circumspection; this furious Ardour is worth nothing. They who think they honour marriage by joyning Love to it, do, methinks, like those, who to favour Virtue, hold, that Nobility is nothing else but Virtue; they are indeed things that have some relation to one another, but there is a great deal of difference; we should not so mix their Names and Titles, 'tis a wrong to them both, so to confound them. Nobility is a brave Quality, and with good reason introduc'd; but forasmuch as 'tis

a Quality depending upon others, and may happen in a vicious Person, 'tis in estimate in∣finitely below Virtue. 'Tis a Virtue, if it be one, that is artificial and apparent, depending upon Time and Fortune; various in form, ac∣cording to the Countreys, Living, and Mortal; without Birth, as the River Nile; genealogi∣cal and common, drawn by Consequence, and a very weak one. Knowledge, Strength, Bounty, Beauty, Riches, and all other Qualities, fall in∣to Communication and Commerce, but this is consummated in it self, and of no use to the Service of others. There was propos'd to one of our Kings the choice of two Concurrents, who both pretended to the same Command, of which the one was a Gentleman, the other was not; he order'd, that without respect to Quality, they should chuse him who had the most merit; but where the worth of the Competitors should appear to be intirely equal, they should have respect to Birth: this was justly to give it its due rank. A Young∣man unknown, coming to Antigonus to make suit for his Fathers Command, a valiant Man, but lately dead: Friend, said he, in such pre∣ferments as those, I have not so much regard to the Nobility of my Souldiers as their Prowess: And indeed it ought not to go as it did with the Officers of the Kings of Sparta, Trumpeters, Fiddlers, Cooks, the Children of whom always succeeded in their Places, how ignorant so∣ever, and were prefer'd before the most expe∣rimented in the Trade. They of Callicut make

a sort of Nobles above humane. They are inter∣dicted marriage, and all but warlike Employ∣ments They may have Concubines their fill, and the Women as many Ruffians, without be∣ing jealous of one another; but 'tis a capital and irremissible Crime to couple with a Person of meaner Condition than themselves, and they think themselves polluted, if they have but touch'd one in walking along; and supposing their Nobility to be marvellously injur'd and interested in it, kill such as only approach a little too near them: insomuch that the ignoble are oblig'd to cry as they go, like the Gunde∣leers of Venice, at the turnings of Streets, for fear of justling, and the Nobles command them to step aside to what part they please: by which means the last avoid what they repute a per∣petual Ignominy, and the other a certain Death. No time, no favour of the Prince, no Office, or Virtue, or Riches, can ever prevail to make a Plebean become noble. To which this Custom is assisting, that marriages are interdi∣cted betwixt several Trades; neither is the Daughter of a Shoomaker permitted to marry with a Carpenter; and the Parents are oblig'd to train up their Children precisely in their own Callings, and not put them to any other Trade; by which means the distinction and continuation of their Fortune is maintained. A good marriage, if it be really so, rejects the Company and Conditions of Love, and tries to represent those of Friendship. 'Tis a sweet Society of Life, full of Constancy, Trust, and

an infinite number of usefull and solid Offices and mutual Obligations; of which any Wo∣man that has a right taste

Optato quam junxit lumine taedae,

Whose Hymeneal Torch shines bright, Kindled by a whisked light.

would be loth to serve her Husband in qua∣lity of a Mistris. If they be lodg'd in his affe∣ction as a Wife, she is more honourably and se∣curely plac'd. When he pretends to be in love with another, and works all he can to obtain his desire, let any one but then ask him, on which he had rather a Disgrace should fall, his Wife or his Mistris, which of their misforunes would most afflict him, and to which of them he wish∣es the most Grandeur; these Questions are out of dispute in a sound marriage: and that so few are observ'd to be happy, is a token of its Price and Value. If well form'd, and right∣ly taken, 'tis the best of all humane Societies. We cannot live without it, and yet we do nothing but decry it. It happens, as with Cages, the Birds without despair to get in, and those within despair of getting out. Socrates, being ask'd whether it was more commodious to take a Wife, or not, Let a Man take which course he will, said he, he will be sure to repent. 'Tis a Contract to which the common Saying, Homo homini, aut Deus, aut Lupus,* 1.92 Man to Man is either a God or a Wolf, may very fitly

be apply'd. There must be a Concurrence of many Qualities to the erecting it. It is found now a days more convenient for innocent and Plebean Souls, where Delights, Curiosity, and Idleness do not so much disturb it; but extra∣vagant Homours, such as mine, that hate all sorts of Obligation and Restraint, are not pro∣per for it.

* 1.93Et mihi dulce magis resoluto vivere collo.

For Liberty to me is far more sweet Than all the Pleasures of the Nuptial Sheet.

Might I have had my own Will, I would not have married Wisdom her self, if she would have had me. But 'tis to much purpose to evade it, the common custom and usance of Life will have it so. The most of my Actions are guided by Example, not by Choice. And yet I did not go to it of my own voluntary Motion, I was led and drawn to it by strange and accidental Occasions. For not only things that are incommodious in themselves, but al∣so nothing so ugly, vitious, and to be avoided, that may not be rendred acceptable by some Condition or Accident; so unsteady and vain is all humane Resolution. And I was persua∣ded to it, when worse prepar'd, and more backward than I am at present, that I have tryed what it is. And as great a Libertine as I am taken to be, I have in truth more strictly observ'd the Laws of Marriage, than I either

promis'd, or expected. 'Tis in vain to kick when a Man has once put on his Fetters. A man must prudently manage his Liberty; but having once submitted to Obligation, he must confine himself within the Laws of common Duty, at least, do what he can towards it. They who engage in this Contract, with a De∣sign to carry themselves in it with hatred and contempt, do an unjust and inconvenient thing; and the fine Rule that I hear pass from hand to hand amongst the Women, as a sacred Oracle,

Sers ton mary comme ton maistre, Et t'en garde comme d'un traitre.

Serve thy Husband like a Waiter, But guard thy self as from a Traitor.

which is to say, comport thy self towards him with a dessembled inimical, and distrustful Re∣verence and Respect, (a stile of War and De∣fiance) is equally injurious and hard. I am too mild for such rugged Designs. To say the truth, I am not arriv'd to that Perfection of cunning and gallantry of Wit, to confound Reason with Justice, and to laugh at all Rule and Order that does not please my Palate; be∣cause I hate Superstition, I do not presently run into the contrary extream of irreligion. If a man does not always perform his Duty, he ought at least to love and acknowledge it, 'tis Treachery to marry without espousing. Let us proceed further. Our Poet represents a

Marriage happy in good intelligence, wherein nevertheless there is not much Loyalty. Does he mean, that it is not impossible but a Woman may give the reins to her own Passion, and yield to the importunities of Love, and yet reserve some Duty toward Marriage, and that it may be hurt without being totally broken? Such a serving Man there may be, as may ride in his Masters Saddle, whom nevertheless he does not hate. Beauty, Opportunity, and De∣stiny, (for Destiny has also a hand in't)

— fatum est in partibus illis * 1.94Quas sinus abscondit; nam si tibi Sidera cessent, Nil faciet longi mensura incognita Nervi.

have debauch'd her to a Stranger; though not so wholly peradventure, but that she may have some remains of kindness for her Husband. They are two Designs, that have several paths leading to them, without being confounded with one another; and a Woman may yield to such a Man as she would by no means have married, not only for the Condition of his Fortune, but the dislike of his Person. Few men have made a Wife of a Mistress, that have not repented it. And even in the other World, what an unhappy Life does Jupiter lead with his, whom he had first enjoy'd as a Mistress? 'Tis, as the Proverb is, to shite in the Basket, and then to put it upon his Head. I have in my time seen Love shamefully and disho∣nestly cur'd in a good Family by Marriage, the

Considerations are too much different. We love at once two things contrary in themselves without any disturbance. Isocrates was wont to say, that the City of Athens pleas'd as Ladies do that men court for Love; every one lov'd to come thither to take a turn, and pass away his time; but no one lik'd it so well as to espouse it, that is, to inhabit there, and to make it his constant Residence. I have been vex'd to see Husbands hate their Wives only because they do them wrong. We should not however, methinks, love them the less for our Faults; they should, at least upon the account of Re∣pentance and Compassion, be dearer to us. They are different ends, and yet in some sort com∣patible. Marriage has Utility, Justice, Honour, and Constancy for its share; a flat, but more universal Pleasure: Love founds it self wholly upon Pleasure, and indeed has it more full, lively and stinging; a Pleasure inflam'd by difficulty; there must be in it sting and ar∣dour: 'Tis no more Love, if without Darts and Fire. The Bounty of Ladies is too pro∣fuse in marriage, and dulls the point of Affe∣ction and Desire: To evade which inconve∣nience, do but observe what pains Lycurgus and Plato take in their Laws. Women are not to blame at all, when they refuse the Rules of Life that are introduc'd into the World; for∣asmuch as the Men made them without their Consent. There is naturally Contention and Brawling betwixt them and us; and the strict∣est Friendship we have with them, is yet mixt

with Tumult and Tempest. In the Opinion of our Author, we deal inconsiderately with them in this. After we have discover'd, that they are without comparison more able and ardent in the Effects of Love than we, and that the old Priest has testified so much, who had been one while a Man, and then a Woman:

* 1.95Venus huic erat utraque nota:

Tiresias must decide * 1.96The difference, who both Delights had try'd.

and moreover, that we have learnt from their own Mouths, the proof that in several Ages was made by an Emperour and an Empress of Rome, both famous for Ability in that Affair: for he in one Night defloured ten Sarmatian Virgins that were his Captives: but she had five and twenty bouts in one Night, changing her Man according to her need and liking:

* 1.97— adhuc ardens rigidae tentigine vulvae: Et lassata Viris, nondum satiata recessit.

and that upon the difference which hapned in Catalognia, wherein, a Wife complaining of her Husbands too frequent addresses to her (not so much as I conceive, that she was incommo∣dated by it (for I believe no Miracles out of Religion) as under this pretence to curtail and curb in this, which is the fundamental act of Marriage, the Authority of Husbands over

their Wives, and to shew that their Froward∣ness and Malignity go beyond the Nuptial Bed, and spurn under foot even the Graces and sweets of Venus;) the Husband, a man really brutish and unnatural, reply'd, that on fasting dayes he could not subsist with less than ten courses. Whereupon came out that notable Sen∣tence of the Queen of Arragon▪ by which, after mature deliberation of her Counsel, this good Queen, to give a Rule and Example to all succeeding Ages of the moderation requir'd in a just Marriage, set down six times a day as a Legitimate and Necessary stint; surrendring and quitting a great deal of the needs and de∣sires of her Sex, that she might, she said, esta∣blish an easie, and consequently, a permanent and immutable Method. Hereupon Doctors cry out, What the Devil must the female Appetite and Concupiscence be, when their Reason, their Reformation and Virtue, is tax'd at such a rate? Considering the divers Judg∣ments of our Appetites; for Solon, Patron of the Law-Schools, taxes us but at three a Month, that men may not fail in point of Conjugal frequentation. After having, I say, believ'd, and preach'd all this, we go and enjoyn them Continency for their particular share, and up∣on the extreamest Penalties. There is no Pas∣sion so hard to contend with as this, which we will have them only to resist; not simply as a Vice only, but as an execrable Abominati∣on, worse than Irreligion, and a Parricide; whilst we at the same time go to't without

Offence or Reproach: Even those Women amongst us who have try'd to do it, have suf∣ficiently confest what difficulty, or rather im∣possibility, they have found by material Reme∣dies, to subdue, weaken, and oppose the Body. We, on the contrary, would have them Sound, Vigorous, in good liking, high fed, and Chaste together, that is to say, both hot and cold; for the Marriage, which we say is to keep them from burning, is but a small Refreshment to them, as we order the matter: For if they take one whose vigorous Age is hot and boy∣ling, he will be proud that his Neighbours know it.

* 1.98Sit tandem pudor, aut eamus in jus, Multis Mentula millibus redempta, Non est haec tua, Basse, vendidisti.

Polemon the Philosopher was justly by his Wife brought in question for sowing in a bar∣ren Field the Seed that was due to one that was fruitful. If on the other side, they take a decay'd Fellow, they are in a worse conditi∣on in Marriage than either Maids or Widows. We think them well provided for, because they have a man to lye withall, as the Romans concluded Clodia Laeta, a Vestal Nun, violated, because Caligula had approach'd her, though it was affirm'd he did no more but approach her: but on the contrary, we by that increase their Necessity, forasmuch as the touching and Com∣pany of any man whatever rouses their desires,

that in Solitude would be more quiet. And to the end, 'tis likely, that they might render their Chastity more meritorious by this Cir∣cumstance and Consideration; Boleslaus, and Kinge his Wife, King and Queen of Poland,* 1.99 vow'd it by mutual consent, being in Bed to∣gether, on their very Wedding day, and kept their Vow in spite of all matrimonial Conveni∣encies and Delights. We train them up from their Infancy to the traffick of Love; their Grace, Dressing, Knowledge, Language, and whole Instruction tend that way: Their Go∣vernesses imprint nothing in them but the Idea of Love, if for nothing else but by continual∣ly representing it to them, to make them dis∣gust it. My Daughter, the only Child I have, is now of an Age that forward young Women are allow'd to be married at; she is of a slow, thin, and tender Complexion, and has accor∣dingly been brought up by her Mother after a private and particular manner, so that she but now begins to be wean'd from her childish Simplicity. She was one day reading before me in a French Book, where she hapned to meet the word * 1.100 fouteau, the name of a Tree very well known; the Woman to whose Con∣duct she is committed, stopt her short a little rudely, and made her skip over that dangerous step; I let her alone, not to trouble their Rules, for I never concern my self in that sort of Government. The Feminine Policy has a mysterious proceeding, we must leave it to them; but if I am not mistaken, the Commerce

of twenty Lacquies could not in six Months time have so imprinted in her Fancy the mea∣ning, usage, and all the consequence of the sound of these smutty Syllables, as this good old Woman did by Reprimand and Interdi∣ction.

* 1.101Motus doceri gaudet Ionicos Natura virgo, & frangitur artubus Jam nunc, & incestos amores De tenero meditatur ungui.

The Maid, for marriage ripe, much joys to learn * 1.102Ionick Dances, and can well discern, With Art to feign, and quickly prove The Pleasures of unlawful Love.

Let them but give themselves the rein a little, let them but enter into liberty of Discourse, we are but Children to them in this Science: Hear them but represent our Pursuits and Dis∣courses, they will very well make you under∣stand that we bring them nothing they have not known before, and digested without our help. Is it perhaps, as Plato says, that they have formerly been debauch'd young Fellows? I hapned one day to be in a Place where I could learn some of their Talk without suspition; I am sorry I cannot repeat it. By'rlady, said I, 'tis time for us to go study the Phrases of Ama∣dis, Boccace, and Aretine, to be able to Dis∣course with them: We employ our time to much purpose indeed, there is neither Word, Example, nor Step, they are not more perfect

in than our Books; 'tis a Discipline that springs with their Blood,

Et mentem ipsa Venus dedit.* 1.103

Venus her self has made them what they are.

which these good Instructers, Nature, Youth, and Health, are continually inspiring them with, they need not learn, they breed it;

Nec tantum niveo gavisa est ulla columbo,* 1.104 Compar, vel si quid dicitur improbius, Oscula mordenti semper decerpere rostro: Quantum praecipue multivola est mulier.

Not more delighted is the milk-white Dove, Or if there be a thing more prone to Love, Still to be Billing with her mate, than is Woman, with every man she meets to kiss.

So that if the natural Violence of their desire were not a little restrain'd by Fear and Ho∣nour, which were wisely contriv'd for them, we should be all sham'd. All the motions in the World tend to this Conjunction; 'tis a mat∣ter infus'd throughout: 'tis a Center to which all things tend. We yet see the Edicts of the old and wise Rome, made for the service of Love, and the Precepts of Socrates for the In∣struction of Courtezans.

Nec non libelli Stoici, inter sericos Jacere pulvillos amant.* 1.105

And Stoical Books, for all their gravity, Amongst silk Cushions love to lye.

Zeno, amongst his Laws, did also regulate the divarications and motions in getting a Maidenhead. Of what sense was the Philoso∣pher Strato's Book of carnal Conjunction? And what did Theophrastus treat of in those he intituled the one the Lover, and the other, of Love? Of what Aristippus in his of ancient Delights? What do the so long and lively Descriptions in Plato of the Loves of his time pretend to? And the Book call'd the Lover, of Demetrius Phalerus? And Clinias, that of get∣ting Children, or of Weddings; and the other of the Master, or the Lover? And that of Aristo of amorous Exercises? What those of Cleanthes, one of Love, the other of the art of Loving? The amorous Dialogues of Spherus? and the Fable of Jupiter and Juno, of Chrysip∣pus, impudent beyond all toleration? And his fifty so lascivious Epistles? I will let alone the Writings of the Philosophers of the Epicu∣rean Sect, protectrice of Voluptuousness and Pleasure. Fifty Deities were in time past as∣sign'd to this Office: and there has been a Nation found out, where, to asswage the Lust of those that came to their Devotion, they had purposely Strumpets in their Temples for them to lye withall;* 1.106 and it was an act of Ceremo∣ny to do that before they went to Prayers. Nimirum propter continentiam incontinentia ne∣cessaria

est, incendium ignibus extinguitur. Doubt∣less Incontinency is necessary for Continency's sake: a Conflagration is extinguish'd by fire. In the greatest part of the World, that Member of our Body was deified. In the same Pro∣vince, some flead off the Skin to offer and con∣secrate a Piece, others offered and consecrated their Seed. In another, the Young-men pub∣lickly cut through betwixt the Skin and the Flesh of that part in several places, and thrust pieces of Wood into the Overtures as long and thick as they would receive, and of those pie∣ces of Wood afterwards made a fire for an Of∣fering to their Gods, and were reputed nei∣ther Vigorous nor Chaste, if by the force of that intolerable Pain they seem'd to be any thing dismay'd. Elsewhere, the most Sacred Magistrate was reverenc'd and acknowledg'd by that Member: and in several Ceremonies the Picture of it was carried in pomp to the Ho∣nour of several Divinities. The Aegyptian La∣dies in their Bacchanals carried every one one carv'd of Wood about their Necks, exactly made great and heavy as every one was able to bear, besides one which the Statue of their God represented, which in greatness surpass'd all the rest of his Body. The married Women near to the place where I live, make of their Kerchiefs the Figure of one upon their Fore∣heads to glorifie themselves in the injoyment they have of it; and coming to be Widows, they throw it behind, and cover it with their Head-cloths. The most modest Matrons of

Rome, thought it an Honour to offer Flowers and Garlands to the God Priapus. And they made the Virgins, at the time of their Espou∣sals, sit upon his shameful Parts. And I know not whether I have not in my time seen some air of like Devotion. What was the meaning of that ridiculous thing our Fore-fathers wore before on their Breeches,* 1.107 and that is still worn by the Swisse? To what end do we make a shew of our Implements in Figure under our Gaskins, and often, which is worse, above their natural size, by a kind of Imposture? I have half a mind to believe that this sort of Vestment was invented in the better and more Conscientious Ages, that the World might not be deceiv'd, and that every one should give a publick account of his Dimensions: The sim∣ple Nations wear them yet, and near about the real size. In those days the Taylor took measure, as the Shoomaker does now, of a Leg or a Foot. That good Man, who, when I was young, gelt so many noble and antick Statues in his great City, that they might not corrupt the sight, according to the advice of this other old good Man; Flagitii principium est nudare inter cives corpora. 'Tis the beginning of Wick∣edness to shew their Nudities in publick. I should have call'd to mind, that as in the Mysteries of the Goddesses all Masculine apparence was ex∣cluded, that he did no thing, if he did not geld Horses and Asses, and finally all Nature too.

Omne adeo genus in terris,* 1.108 hominumque ferarum∣que, Et genus aequoreum, pecudes pictaeque volucres, In furias ignemque ruunt. —

All men on Earth, and Beasts both mild and tame,* 1.109 Sea-Monsters, gaudy Foul, rush to this flame, The same love works in all.

The Gods, says Plato, have given us one disobedient and unruly Member, that like a fu∣rious Animal, attempts by the Violence of its Appetite, to subject all things to it. And they have given Women one that has the same Qua∣lities, like a greedy and ravenous Animal, which if one refuse to give him Food in season, grows wild, impatient of delay, and infusing the rage into their Bodies, stops the passages, and hinders Respiration, causing a thousand Incon∣veniencies; till having imbib'd the Fruit of the common thirst, he has plentifully besprin∣kled and bedew'd the bottom of their Womb. Now my Legislator should also have consi∣der'd, that peradventure it were a chaster and more fruitful usance to let them know the quick betimes, than permit them to guess ac∣cording to the liberty and heat of their own Fancy; instead of real parts, they substitute through hope and desire, others that are three times more extravagant. And a certain Friend of mine lost himself by producing his in place not yet fit to admit them to their more seri∣ous use. What Mischeif do not those Pictures

of prodigious dimension do, that the Boys make upon the Stair-cases and Galleries of the Royal Houses? which give them a strange contempt of our natural Furniture. And what do we know but that Plato, after other well instituted Republicks, order'd, that the Man and Woman, old and young, should expose themselves naked to the view of one another, in his Gymnastick, upon that very account? The Indians, who see the men stark naked, have at least cool'd the sense of Seeing. And let the Women of the Kingdom of Pegu say what they will, (who below the waste have nothing to cover them but a Cloth slit before, and so straight, that what decency and mode∣sty soever they pretend by it, at every step all is to be seen) that it is an Invention found out to allure the men to them, and to divert them from the Boys, to which that Nation is generally inclin'd; yet peradventure they lose more by it than they get, and a man may venture to say, that an intire Appetite is more sharp than one already glutted by the eyes. And also Livia was wont to say, that to a Virtuous Woman a naked Man was but a Statue. The Lacedaemonian Women, more Vir∣gins when Wives, than our Daughters are; saw every day the Young-men of their City strip'd naked in their Exercises; little mind∣ing themselves to cover their Thighs in walk∣ing, believing themselves, says Plato, sufficient∣ly cover'd with their Virtue without any other Robe. But those of whom St. Austin speaks,

have given nudity a wonderful power of Temptation, that have made it a Doubt, whe∣ther Women at the day of Judgment shall rise again in their own Sex, and not rather in ours, for fear of tempting us again in that ho∣ly estate. In brief, we allure and flesh them by all sorts of ways: We incessantly heat and stir up their Imagination, and yet we find fault. Let us confess the truth; there is scarce one of us that does not more apprehend the shame that accrues to him by the Vices of his Wife, than by his own, and that is not more sollicitous (a wonderful Charity) of the Con∣science of his virtuous Wife than of his own; who had not rather commit Theft and Sacrilege, and that his Wife was a Murtheress and a He∣retick, than that she should not be more chaste than her Husband. An unjust estimate of Vi∣ces. Both we and they are capable of a thou∣sand Corruptions more prejudicial and unna∣tural than Lust: But we weigh Vices not ac∣cording to Nature, but according to our In∣terest; by which means they take so many unequal forms. The austerity of our Decrees renders the propension of Women to this Vice more violent and vicious than its Condition will bear, and engages it in Consequences worse than their Cause. They will voluntarily offer to go to the Exchange to seek for Gain, and to the War to get Reputation, rather than in the midst of ease and delights to have to do with so difficult a Guard. Do not they very well see that there is neither Merchant nor Soul∣dier,

who will not leave his business to run after this other, and so much as the Porter and Cobler, toyl'd and tir'd out as they are with Labour and Hunger?

* 1.110Num tu quae tenuit dives Achaemenes, Aut pinguis Phrygiae Mygdonias opes, Permutare velis crine Licinniae, Plenas aut arabum domos, Dum fragrantia detorquet ad osculae Cervicem, aut facili saevitia negat, Quae poscente magis gaudeat eripi. Interdum rapere occupet?

Wouldst thou for all that Achaemenes had, Or all the Phrygian Wealth before thee laid, Or Riches that in Arabs Houses are, Change thy Licinnias golden Hair, When she her neck to fragrant Kisses wries, Or with a pretty Anger them denies, What she would rather give than take by far, And snatches them e're she's aware?

I cannot tell whether the Exploits of Alexan∣der and Caesar do really surpass the Resoluti∣on of a beautiful young Woman, bred up af∣ter our fashion in the Light and Commerce of the World, battered by so many contrary Ex∣amples, and yet keeping her self intire in the midst of a thousand continual and powerful Sollicitations and Pursuits. There is no doing more prickly than that not doing, nor more active. I find it more easie to carry a suit of

Arms all the days of a mans Life, than a Mai∣den-head; and the Vow of Virginity, of all others is the most noble, as being the hardest to keep. Diaboli Virtus in Lumbis est,* 1.111 says St. Hierom. We have doubtless resign'd to the Ladies the most difficult, and most vigo∣rous of all humane endeavours, and let us re∣sign to them the Glory too. This ought to en∣courage them to be obstinate in it, 'tis a brave thing for them to defie us, and to spurn under foot that vain preheminence of Valour and Vir∣tue that we pretend to have over them. They will find, if they do but observe it, that they will not only be much more esteem'd for it, but also much more belov'd. A gallant Man does not give over his pursuit for being refus'd, provi∣ded it be a refusal of Chastity, and not of choice. We may swear, threaten, and com∣plain to much purpose; we lye, we love them the better: there is no allurement like Modesty, if it be not rude and uncivil. 'Tis stupidity and meanness, to be obstinate against hatred and disdain; but against a virtuous and con∣stant Resolution, mixt with an acknowledge∣ment, 'tis the exercise of a noble and generous Soul. They may acknowledge our Services to a certain degree, and give us civilly to under∣stand, that they disdain us not. For that Law that enjoyns them to abominate us, because we adore them, and to hate us because we love them; is certainly very severe, if but for the difficulty of it. Why should they not give ear to our offers and demands, so long as they

are contain'd within the bounds of Modesty? Wherefore should we fancy them to have other thoughts within, and to be worse than they seem? A Queen of our time ingeniously said, that to refuse these Courtships is a Testimony of weakness in Women, and a self accusation of Facility; and that a Lady could not boast of her Chastity, who was never tempted. The Limits of Honour are not cut so short, they may give themselves a little rein, and dispence a little without forfeiting themselves; there lies before the Frontier some space free, indif∣ferent and neuter: he that has beaten and pur∣su'd her into her Fort, is a strange fellow if he be not satisfied with his Fortune. The price of the Conquest is consider'd by the difficulty. Would you know what impression your Ser∣vice and Merit have made in her Heart? Judge of it by her Behaviour. Some may grant more, who do not grant so much. The Obligation of a Benefit wholly relates to the good will of those who confer it, the other coincident Circumstances are dumb, dead, and casual. It costs her dearer to grant you that little, than it would do her Companion to grant all. If in any thing rarity give the estimation, it ought especially in this. Do not consider how little it is that is given, but how few have it to give. The value of Money alters according to the Coin, and stamp of the Place. Whatever the spite and indiscretion of some may make them say upon the excess of their Discontentment; yet Virtue and Truth will in time recover

all. I have known some, whose Reputation has for a great while suffer'd under slander, who have after been restor'd to the Worlds universal Opinion, meerly by their Constan∣cy, without care or artifice; every one re∣pents, and gives himself the lye for what he has believ'd and said; and from Maids, a little suspected, they have been afterward advanc'd to the first rank amongst the Ladies of Ho∣nour. Some body told Plato, that all the World spoke ill of him. Let them talk, said he, I will live so as to make them change their Note. Besides the fear of God, and the price of so rare a Renown, which ought to make them look to themselves, the corruption of the Age we live in compells them to it; and if I were as they, there is nothing I would not rather do, than intrust my Reputation in so dange∣rous hands. In my time, the Pleasure of tel∣ling (a Pleasure little inferiour to that of doing) was not permitted but to those who had some faithful and only Friend; but now the ordi∣nary Discourse and common Table-talk, is nothing but boasts of Favours receiv'd, and the secret Liberality of Ladies. In earnest. 'tis too abject, and too much meanness of Spirit, to suffer such ingrateful, indiscreet, and giddy∣headed People, so to persecute, teaze, and rifle those tender and obliging Favours. This our immoderate and illegitimate Exasperation against this Vice, springs from the most vain and turbulent Disease that afflicts humane Minds, which is Jealousie;

* 1.112Quis vetat apposito Lumen de lumine sumi? Dent licet assiduè, nil tamen inde perit.

That Light from Light be taken, who'll deny? Though they do nought but give, nought's lost thereby.

she,* 1.113 and Envy her Sister, seem to me to be the most idle and foolish of the whole Troop. As to the last, I can say little to't, a Passion, that though said to be so mighty and powerful, had never to do with me. As to the other, I know it by sight, and that's all. Beasts feel it. The Shepherd Cratis, being fall'n in love with a She-Goat, the He out of jealously, came to butt him as he was laid a sleep, and beat out his Brains. We have rais'd this Fever to a grea∣ter excess by the Examples of some barbarous Nations; the best disciplin'd have been touch'd with it, and 'tis reason; but not transported:

* 1.114Ense maritali nemo confessus Adulter, Purpureo Stygias Sanguine tinxit aquas.

Ne're did Adulterer, by a Husband slain, With purple Blood the Stygian Waters stain.

Lucullus, Caesar, Pompey, Antonius, Cato, and other brave men, were Cuckolds, and knew it, without making any bustle about it. There was in those days but one Coxcomb, Lepidus, that died for Grief that his Wife had us'd him so.

Ah! tum te miserum, malique fati,* 1.115 Quem attractis pedibus patente porta, Percurrent mugilesque raphanique.

And the God of our Poet, when he surpriz'd one of his Companions with his Wife, satisfied himself with putting them to shame only.

Atque aliquis de Diis non tristibus optat,* 1.116 Sic fieri turpis. —

— they shamefully lay bound,* 1.117 Yet one a wanton wish'd to be so found.

and nevertheless took fire at the soft embraces she gave him, complaining, that upon that ac∣count she was grown jealous of his Affection.

Quid causas petis ex alto?* 1.118 fiducia cessit Quo tibi Diva mei? —

What need'st thou doubt,* 1.119 and make a question thus? Where is your Confidence repos'd in us?

Nay, she entreats Arms for a Bastard of hers,

Arma rogo genitrix nato.* 1.120

Another for her Son does Armour crave.

which are freely granted; and Vulcan speaks honourably of Aeneas;

Arma acri facienda viro.* 1.121

Arms for a valiant Hero must be made.* 1.122

with, in truth, a more than humane Humanity. And I am willing to leave this excess of Bounty to the Gods:

* 1.123Nec divis homines componere aequum est.

Nor is it fit to equal men with Gods.

As to the confusion of Children, besides that the gravest Legislators ordain and affect it in their Republicks, it nettles not the Women, where this Passion is I know not how much better seated.

* 1.124Saepe etiam Juno maxima Caelicolam Conjugis in culpa flagravit quotidiana.

And Juno, with fierce jealousie inflam'd, Her Husband's daily slips has often blam'd.

When Jealousie seizes these poor, weak, and resistless Souls, 'tis pity to see how miserably it torments and tyrannizes over them; it in∣sinuates it self into them under the title of Friendship, but after it has once possess'd them, the same causes that serv'd for a foundation of good Will, serve them for a foundation of mortal Hatred: 'tis, of all the diseases of the Mind, that which most things serve for Ali∣ment, and fewest for Remedy. The Virtue, Health, Merit, and Reputation of the Hus∣band, are the Incendiaries of their Fury and ill Will.

Nullae sunt inimicitiae nisi amoris acerbae.* 1.125

Their Angers are but the effects of Love.

This Fever defaces and corrupts all they have of beautiful and good besides. And there is no action of a jealous Woman, let her be how chaste and how good a Housewife soever, that does not relish of Anger and Rudeness. 'Tis a furious Agitation, that rebounds them to an Extremity quite contrary to its Cause: Which was very manifest in one Octavius at Rome, who, having lain with Pontia Posthumia, found his love so much augmented by Fruition, that he sollicited with all importunity to marry her, which seeing he could not persuade her to, this excessive Affection precipitated him to the effects of the most cruel and mortal ha∣tred, for he kill'd her. In like manner, the or∣dinary symptoms of this other amorous Dis∣ease, are intestine Hatreds, private Conspira∣cies and Conjurations,

Notumque, furens quid foemina possit.* 1.126

— The cause unknown, But that a desp'rate Woman carry'd on* 1.127 With Rage might do,

and a Rage which so much the more frets it self, as it is compell'd to excuse it self by a pretence of good Will. Now the duty of Cha∣stity is of a vast Extent. Is it their Wills that

we would have them restrain? That is a ve∣ry pliant and active thing, a thing very quick and nimble to be staid. How? if Dreams some∣times ingage them so far that they cannot de∣ny them. It is not in them, nor peradventure in Chastity it self, seeing it is a Female, to de∣fend it self from Lust and Desire. If we are only interested in their Will, what a case are we in then? Do but imagine what crowding there would be amongst Men in pursuance of these Priviledges, to run full speed, though without Tongue and Eyes, into every Wo∣mans Arms that would accept them. The Scy∣thian Women put out the Eyes of all their Slaves and Prisoners of War, that they might have their Pleasure of them, and they never the wiser. Oh, the furious advantage of Op∣portunity! Should any one ask me, what was the first part of Love, I should Answer, that it was how to take a man's time, and so the second, and so the third; 'tis a point that can do every thing. I have sometimes wanted For∣tune, but I have also sometimes been wanting to my self in matter of Attempt. There is grea∣ter Temerity requir'd in this Age of ours, which our young People excuse under the name of heat. But should Women examin it more strictly, they would find, that it rather proceeded from Contempt. I was always super∣stitiously afraid of giving offence, and have ever had a great respect for her I lov'd: Besides, who in this traffick takes away the Reverence, defaces at the same time the Lustre. I would

in this Affair have a Man a little play the Child, the Timorous, and the Servant: If not altogether in this, I have in other things some air of the foolish bashfulness whereof Plutarch makes mention; and the course of my Life has been divers ways hurt and blemish'd with it, a Quality very ill suiting my universal Form: And what is there also amongst us but Sediti∣on and Discord? I am as much our of Coun∣tenance to be deny'd as I am to deny; and it so much troubles me to be troublesome to others, that in occasions where Duty compells to try the good-will of any one in a thing that is doubtful, and that will be chargeable to him, I do it very faintly, and very much against my will: But if it be for my own particular, (whatever Homer truly says, that Modesty is a foolish Virtue in an indigent Person) I com∣monly commit it to a third Person to blush for me, and deny those that employ me with the same difficulty; so that it has sometimes befall'n me to have had a mind to deny when I had not the power to do it. 'Tis folly then to at∣tempt to bridle in Women a Desire that is so powerful in them, and so natural to them. And when I hear them brag of having so mai∣denly and so temperate a Will, I laugh at them. They retire too far back. If it be an old Toothless Trot, or a young dry Consumptive thing, though it be not altogether to be be∣liev'd, at least, they may say it with more simi∣litude of truth. But they, who are yet capa∣ble of love, and still pant with desire, talk at

that ridiculous rate to their own prejudice, by reason that inconsiderate excuses are a kind of self Accusation. Like a Gentleman, a Neigh∣bour of mine, suspected to be insufficient;

* 1.128Languidior tenera cui pendens sicula beta, Nunquam se mediam sustulit ad tunicam.

who three or four days after he was married, to justifie himself, swore aloud that he had rid twenty Stages the Night before: an Oath that was afterwards made use of to convince him of his ignorance in that Affair, and to divorce him from his Wife. Besides, it signifies nothing, for there is neither Continency nor Virtue where there are no opposing Desires. It is true, they may say, but they will not yield unto it. Saints themselves speak after that man∣ner; I mean those who boast in good earnest of their coldness and insensibility, and who expect to be believ'd when they profess it with a grave and serious Countenance; for when 'tis spoken with an affected Look, where their Eyes give the lye to their Tongue, and speak in the Cant of their Profession, which always goes against the hair, 'tis good sport. I am a great Servant of Liberty and Plainness, but there is no remedy, if it be wholly simple or childish 'tis silly, and unbecomming Ladies in this Commerce; and presently runs into Impudence: Their Disguises and Figures on∣ly serve to cosen Fools. Lying is there in its seat of Honour; 'tis a by-way, that by a back-door

leads us to Truth. If we cannot curb their Imagination, what would we have them do? Do indeed? There are enow who evade all Communication, by which Chastity may be corrupted.

Illud saepe facit, quod sine teste facit.* 1.129

He often does himself apply To that he does when none is by.

And those whom we fear the least, are perad∣venture most to be fear'd; their Sins that make the least noise are the worst.

Offendor moecha simpliciore minus.* 1.130

A profess'd Strumpet less offence does give.

There are ways by which they may lose their Vir∣ginity without prostitution, and, which is more, without their knowledge.* 1.131 Obstetrix virginis cujusdam integritatem manu velut explorans, sive malevolentia, sive inscitia, sive casu, dum inspicit, perdidit. Some one by seeking her Maiden-head has lost it, another by playing with it has de∣stroy'd it. We cannot precisely circumscribe the occasions; we interdict them. They must guess at our meaning under general and doubt∣ful terms. The very Idea we invent for their Chastity is ridiculous: for, amongst the greatest Examples arriv'd at my knowledge, Fatua,* 1.132 the Wife of Fannus, is one, who never after

her Marriage suffer'd herself to be seen by any man what ever; and the Wife of Hiero, who never perceiv'd her Husband's stinking Breath, imagining that it was common to all men. They must become insensible and invisible to satisfie us. Now let us confess, that the knot of this Judgment of Duty does principally lye in the Will. There have been Husbands who have suffered this accident, not only with∣out reproach, or taking offence at their Wives, but with singular Obligation to them, and great commendation of their Virtue. Such a Woman has been, who priz'd her Honour above her Life, and yet has prostituted it to the furious Lust of a mortal Enemy to save her Husband's Life, and who, in so doing, did that for him, she would not have done for her self! It is not here that we are to produce their Ex∣amples, they are too high and rich to be set off with so poor a Foil as I can give them here, let us reserve them for a nobler place; but for Examples of ordinary lustre, Do we not every day see Women amongst us that surrender themselves for their Husbands only benefit, and by their express Order and Me∣diation? and of old Phaulius the Argian, who offer'd his to King Philip out of Ambition, as that Galba did out of Civility, who having entertain'd Moecenas at Supper, and observing that his Wife and he began to cast Sheeps eyes at one another, and to complot Love by signs, let himself sink down upon his Cushion, like one in a profound sleep, to give opportunity

to their desires:* 1.133 which he also handsomely confess'd, for at the same time a Servant ma∣king bold to clatter the Plate that stood upon the Table, he plainly cry'd; What a noise do you make, you Rogue? do you not see that I on¦ly sleep for Moecenas? Such a Man may be, whose Manners may be lewd enough, and yet whose Will may be more reform'd than ano∣ther, who outwardly carries himself after a more regular manner: As we see some, who complain of having vow'd Chastity before they knew what they did; and I have also known others really complain of having given them∣selves up to Debauchery before they were of years of Discretion. The Vice of the Parents, or the impulse of Nature, which is a rude Councellor, may be the cause. In the East In∣dies, though Chastity is of singular Reputati∣on, yet Custom permitted a married Woman to prostitute her self to any one who presen∣ted her with an Elephant, and that with Glo∣ry too, to have been valu'd at so high a rate. Phaedon the Philosopher, a Man of Birth, after the taking of his Countrey Elida, made it his trade to prostitute the beauty of his youth, so long as it lasted, to any one that would, for Money, thereby to gain his Living. And So∣lon was the first in Greece, 'tis said, who by his Laws gave Liberty to Women, at the expence of their Chastity, to provide for the Necessities of Life; a Custom that Herodotus says had been receiv'd in many Governments before his time. And besides, what Fruit is there of this

painful Solitude? For what Justice soever there is in this Passion, we are yet to consider whe∣ther it turns to account, or no. Does any one think to curb it by his Industry?

* 1.134Pone Seram, cohibe: sed quis custodiet ipsos Custodes? cauta est, & ab illis incipit uxor.

Hang on a Lock, I hear old Friends advise, * 1.135Appoint a Guard, but who shall watch the Spies? Her Art first draws them in.

What Conveniency will not serve their turn in so knowing an Age? Curiosity is vicious throughout; but 'tis pernicious here. 'Tis Fol∣ly to examine into a Disease for which there is no Physick that does not inflame and make it worse; of which the shame grows still grea∣ter, and more publick by Jealousie, and of which the Revenge more wounds our Prospe∣rity, than it heals us. You wither and dye in the search of so obscure a proof. How mise∣rably have they of my time arriv'd at that knowledge, who have been so unhappy as to have found it out? If the Informer does not at the same time apply a Remedy, and bring relief; 'tis an injurious Information, and that better deserves a stab than the Lye: We no less laugh at him who takes pains to prevent it, than he who is a Cuckold, and knows it not. The Character of Cuckold is indelible, who once has it carries it to his grave; the Punishment proclaims it more than the Fault.

It is to much purpose to see, to draw the Cur∣tain, and to lift up the Quilt to discover our private Misfortunes, thence to expose them on Tragick Scaffolds; and Misfortunes that only hurt us by being known; for a good Wife, or a happy Marriage, is said, not that they are really so, but because no one says to the contrary. Men should be so discreet, as to evade this tormenting and unprofitable knowledge: and the Romans had a Custom, when retur∣ning from any Expedition, to send home before to acquaint their Wives with their coming, that they might not surprize them; and to this purpose it is, that a certain Nation has intro∣duc'd a custom, that the Priest shall on the Wedding day unlock the Brides Cabinet, to free the Husband from the doubt and Curio∣sity of examaning in the first assault, whether she comes a Virgin to his Bed, or that she has been at the Trade before. But the World will be talking. I know a hundred honest men Cuckolds, that are handsomely, and not very indecently so; a worthy man is lamented, but not disesteem'd for it. Order it so that your Virtue may conquer your Misfortune, that good Men may curse the Occasion, and that he who wrongs you may tremble but to think on't. And moreover, who escapes being talk'd of at the same rate, from the least even to the greatest?

— tot qui legionibus imperitavit,* 1.136 Et melior quam tumultis fuit, improbe, rebus.

To whom so many Legions did bow, And who by much was better far than thou.

You hear how many honest men are re∣proach'd with this in your presence, and you may believe that you are no more spar'd be∣hind your Back. Nay, the very Ladies will be laughing too; and what are they so apt to laugh at in this virtuous Age of ours, as at a peaceable and well-compos'd marriage? There is not one amongst you but has made some bo∣dy Cuckold: and Nature runs much in paral∣lell, in compensation, and turn for turn. The frequency of this accident ought long since to have made it easie; and 'tis now past into Custom. Miserable Passion, which has this al∣so, that it is incommunicable.

* 1.137Fors etiam nostris invidit questibus Aures.

And spiteful Fortune too denies An Ear to our Calamities.

For to what Friend dare you intrust your Griefs; who, if he does not laugh at them, will not make use of the occasion to get a share of the Quarry? The sharps▪ as well as the sweets of Marriage, are kept secret by the wise; and amongst other troublesome Conditions apper∣taining to it, this, to a prating Fellow, as I am, is one of the chief, that custom has ren∣dred it indecent and prejudicial, to commmu∣nicate to any one all that a man knows, and

all that a man feels. To give even Women counsel against Jealousie, would be so much time lost, their very Being is so made up of Suspition, Vanity, and Curiosity, that to cure them by any lawful ways, is not to be hop'd or expected. They often recover of this In∣firmity, by a form of Health much more to be fear'd than the Disease it self. For as there are Enchantments that cannot take away the Evil, but by throwing it upon another, they also willingly transfer this Fever to their Husbands, when they shake it off themselves. And yet I know not, to speak truth, whether a man can suffer worse from them than their Jealousie; 'tis the most dangerous of all their Conditions, as the Head is of all their Mem∣bers. Pittacus was us'd to say, that every one had his defect, and that his was the jealous Head of his Wife; but for which he should think himself perfectly happy. A mighty in∣convenience sure which could poyson the whole Life of so just, so wise, and so valiant a man; What must we other little Fellows do? The Senate of Marselles had reason to grant him that begg'd leave to kill himself, that he might be deliver'd from the Clamour of his Wife, his request; for 'tis a mischief that is never remov'd, but that it carries away the piece; and that has no Remedy but Flight or Patience, though both of them very hard. He was doubtless an understanding Fellow that said, there was no happy Marriage but betwixt a blind Wife and a deaf Husband.

Let us also consider whether the great and vio∣lent Severity of Obligation we enjoyn them, does not produce two effects contrary to our design, namely, whether it does not render the Pursuants more eager to attaque, and the Women more easie to yield. For as to the first, by raising the value of the Place, we raise the value and the desire of the Conquest. Might it not be Venus her self, who so cun∣ningly enhaunc'd the price of her Merchan∣dize, by making the Laws her Bawds; know∣ing how insipid a delight it would be that was not heightned by Fancy and hardness to atchieve? To conclude, 'tis all Swines-flesh, varied by Sawces, as said Flaminius his Host. Cupid is a roguish God, who makes it his sport to contend with Devotion and Justice: 'Tis his Glory that his Power mates all other Pow∣ers, and all other Rules give place to his.

* 1.138Materiam Culpae prosequiturque suae.

And seeks out Matter for his Crimes.

As to the second point; should we not be less Cuckolds, if we less fear'd to be so? ac∣cording to the Humour of Women: whom In∣terdiction incites, and who are more eager for being forbid.

* 1.139Vbi velis nolunt, ubi nolis volunt ultro, Concessa pudet ire via. —

You would, they won't, when you would not, they wou'd, Consent does freeze, denial fires their Blood.

What better Interpretation can we make of Messalina's Behaviour? She at first made her Husband a Cuckold in private, as is the com∣mon use: but, bringing her Business about with too much ease, by reason of her Husbands Stupidity; she soon scorn'd that way, and presently fell to making open love, to own her Servants, and to favour and entertain them in the sight of all.▪ She would make him know and see how she us'd him. This Animal, not to be rous'd with all this, and rendring her Pleasures dull and flat by his too stupid Facili∣ty, by which he seem'd to authorize, and make them lawful; what does she? but being the Wife of a living and healthful Emperour, and at Rome, the Theater of the World, in the face of the Sun, and with solemn Ceremony, and to Silius, who had long before enjoy'd her, she publickly marries her self one day that her Husband was gone out of the City. Does it not seem as if she was going to become Chaste by her Husband's negligence? or that she sought another Husband that might shar∣pen her appetite by his jealousie, and who by watching should incite her? But the first dif∣ficulty she met with was also the last; this Beast suddenly rous'd. These stupid sort of Men are oft the most dangerous. I have found by Experience, that this extream Toleration, when it comes to dissolve, produces the most severe Revenge; for taking fire on a sudden, Anger and Fury being combin'd in one, dis∣charge their utmost force at the first charge.

* 1.140Irarumque omnes effundit habenas.

He put her to death, and with her a great number of those with whom she had had In∣telligence, even those who could not help it, and whom she had caus'd to be forc'd to her Bed with Scourges. What Virgil says of Venus and Vulcan, Lucretius had better express'd of a stoln Injoyment betwixt her and Mars.

* 1.141— bellifera maenera Mavors Armipotens regit, in gremium qui saepe tuum se Rejicit, aeterno devinctus Vulnere amoris: Pascit amore avidos inhians in te Dea visus, Eque tuo pendet resupini spiritus ores: Hunc tu Diva tuo recubantem corpore sancto Circumfusa super, suaveis ex ore loquelas Funde.

* 1.142— For furious Mars, The only Governour, and God of Wars, Tired with heat and toil, doth oft resort To taste the Pleasures of the Paphian Court; Where on thy Bosom he supinely lies, And greedily drinks Love at both his eyes, Till quite o're-come, snatching an eager Kiss, He hastily goes on to greater bliss: Then midst his strict embraces clasp thine arms About his Neck, and call forth all thy charms▪ Careless, with all thy subtle arts become A Flatterer, and beg a Peace for Rome.

When I consider this rejicit, pascit, inhians, molli, fovet, medullas, labefacta, pendet, percurrit,

and that noble circumfusa, mother of the gen∣tle infusus; I contemn those little Quibbles and verbal Allusions have been since in use. Those well-meaning People stood in need of no subtilty to disguise their meaning; their Language is downright and plain, and full of natural and continued Vigour; they are all Epigram, not only with a sting in the tayl, but the head, body, and feet, carry the same force throughout. There is nothing forc'd, nothing languishing, but they still keep the same pace. Contextus totus virilis est,* 1.143 non sunt circa floscu∣los occupati. The whole contexture is manly, without insisting upon little flowers of Rhetorick. 'Tis not a soft Eloquence, and without offence only, 'tis nervous and solid, that does not so much please, as it fits and ravishes the greatest minds. When I see these brave methods of ex∣pression, so lively, so profound, I do not say that 'tis well said, but well thought. 'Tis the spriteliness of the imagination that swells and elevates words. Pectus est quod disertum facit.* 1.144 Our People call Language Judgment, and fine words full Conceptions. This painting is not so much carried on by dexterity of hand, as by having the object more lively imprinted in the Soul: Gallus speaks simply, because he conceives simply: Horace does not content himself with a superficial expression that would betray him; he sees farther and more clearly into things, his Wit breaks into, and rummages all the magazine of words and figures where∣with to express himself, and he must have them

above ordinary, because his Conception is so. Plutarch says, that he sees the Latin Tongue by the things. 'Tis here the same: the Sense illuminates, and produces the words: no more words of air, but of flesh and bone; they sig∣nifie more than they express. Moreover, those who are not well skill'd in a Language, per∣ceive some image of this; for in Italy, I said whatever I had a mind to in common discourse, but in more serious subjects, I durst not have trusted my self with an Idiome that I could not wind and turn out of its ordinary pace; I would therein have a power of introducing something of my own. The handling and ut∣terance of fine Wits is that which sets off a Language; not so much by innovating it, as by putting it to more vigorous and various service, and by straining, bending, and adap∣ting it to them. They do not create words, but they enrich their own, and give them weight and signification by the Uses they put them to, and teach them unwonted motions, but withall, ingeniously and discreetly. And how little this talent is given to all, is mani∣fest by the many French Scriblers of this Age. They are bold, and proud enough not to fol∣low the common road, but want of Invention and discretion ruins them. There is nothing seen in their Writings but a wretched affecta∣tion of a strange new style, with cold and ab∣surd disguises, which, instead of elevating, depress the matter. Provided they can but trick up their style with fine new words, they

care not what they signifie; and to bring in a new word by the head and shoulders, they leave the old one, very often more sinewy and significant than the other. There is stuff enough in our Language, but there is a defect in cutting out. For there is nothing that might not be made out of our terms of Hunting and War, which is a fruitful Soil to borrow from. And the forms of speaking, like Herbs, im∣prove and grow stronger by being transplant∣ed. I find it sufficiently abounding, but not sufficiently pliable and vigorous. It quails un∣der a powerful Conception. If you would maintain the dignity of your style, you will oft perceive it to flag and languish under you, and there Latin steps in to its relief, as Greek does to other Languages. Of some of the words I have pick'd out for my own use, we do not easily discern the energy, by reason that the frequent use of them have in some sort embas'd their beauty, and rendred it com∣mon. As in our ordinary Language there are several excellent Phrases and Metaphors to be met with, of which the beauty is wither'd by age, and the colour is sullied by too common handling; but that takes nothing from the relish to an understanding man: neither does it derogate from the glory of those ancient Authors, who, 'tis likely, first brought those words into that lustre. The Sciences treat of things too finely, and after an artificial, very different from the common and natural way. My Page makes love, and understands it, but

read to him Leo Hebreus and Ficinus, where they speak of him, his thoughts and actions, he understands it not. I do not find in Aristo∣tle most of my ordinary motions; they are there cover'd, and disguis'd in another robe for the use of the Schools. Well may they speed; but were I of the Trade, I would as much naturalize Art, as they artifie Nature. Let us let Bembo and Equicola alone. When I write, I can very well spare both the Compa∣ny and the remembrance of ••ooks, lest they should interrupt my Method. And also in truth the best Authors too much humble and discou∣rage me. I am very much of the Painters Mind, who having represented Cocks most wretch∣edly ill, charged all his Boys not to suffer any natural Cock to come into his Shop; and had rather need to give my self a little lustre of the Invention of Antinonnydes the Musician, who, when he was to sing or play, took care before hand that the Auditory should, either before or after, be entertained and glutted with some other ill Musicians. But I can hard∣ly be without a Plutarch, he is so universal, and so full, that upon all Occasions, and what extravagant Subject soever you take in hand, he will still intrude himself into your Business, and holds out to you a liberal, and not to be exhausted hand of Riches and Embellishments. It vexes me that he is so expos'd to the spoil of those who are conversant with him. I can no sooner cast an Eye upon him, but I pur∣loyn either a Leg or a Wing. And also for

this Design of mine, 'tis convenient for me to write at home, in a wild Country, where I have no body to assist or relieve me; where I hardly see a man that understands the Latine of his Pater Noster, and of French as little, if not less. I might have made it better elsewhere, but then the work would have been less my own; and its principal end and perfection is to be exactly mine: I should well enough correct an accidental Error, of which I am full, as I run carelesly on: but for any ordinary and constant Imperfections, it were a kind of Treason to put them out. When another tells, or that I say to my self, Thou art too thick of Figures; this is a word of the Gascon growth, and therefore a dangerous Phrase; (I do not reject any of those that are us'd in the com∣mon Streets of France, they that will fight Custom with Grammar, are Fools) this is an ignorant Discourse; this is a Paradoxical say∣ing, this is a foolish Expression. Thou mak'st thy self merry sometimes; and men will think thou sayest a thing in good earnest, which thou only speak'st in jest. Yes, say I, but I correct the Faults of Inadvertence, not those of Cu∣stom. Do I not talk at the same rate through∣out? Do I not represent my self to the Life? 'Tis enough that I have done what I design'd; all the World knows me in my Book, and my Book in me. Now I have an apish imitating Quality; when I us'd to write Verses, (and I never made any but Latine) they evidently accus'd the Poet I had last read; and some of

my first Essays have a little exotick taste. I speak something another kind of Language at Paris than I do at Montaigne. Whoever I stedfastly look upon, easily leaves some im∣pression of his upon me. Whatever I consider, I usurp; whether a foolish Countenance, a disagreeable look, or a ridiculous way of speaking; and Vices most of all, because they seize and stick to me, and will not leave hold without shaking off. I swear more by Imitation than Humour. A murthering imita∣tion, like that of the Apes, so terrible both in stature and strength, that Alexander met with in a certain Country of the Indies, which he would have had much ado any other way to have subdu'd. But they afforded him the means by that Inclination of theirs to imitate what∣ever they saw done. For by that the Hunters were taught to put on Shooes in their sight, and to tye them fast with many knots, and to muffle up their Heads in Caps all compos'd of running nooses, and to seem to anoint their Eyes with Glew; so did those silly Creatures employ their Imitation to their own ruine, they glew'd up their own Eyes, haltred and bound themselves. The other faculty of play∣ing the Mimicks, and ingeniously acting the Words and Gestures of another, purposely to make others merry, and to raise their Admira∣tion, is no more in me than in a Stock. When I swear my own Oath, 'tis only by God, of all Oaths the most direct. They say that Socrates swore by the Dog, Zeno had for his Oath the

same Interjection, at this time in use amongst the Italians Cappari: Pythagoras swore by Wa∣ter and Air. I am so apt, without thinking of it, to receive these superficial Impressions, that if I have Majesty or Highness in my Mouth three dayes together, they come out instead of Excellency and Lordship, eight dayes after; and what I say to day in sport and fooling, I shall seriously say the same to morrow. Where∣fore, in writing, I more unwillingly undertake beaten Arguments, lest I should handle them at anothers expence. Every Subject is equal∣ly fertile to me. A Fly will serve me for a Subject, and 'tis well if this I have in hand has not been undertaken at the Recommendation of as wanton a Will. I may begin with that which pleases me best, for the Subjects are all link'd to one another; but my Soul displeases me, in that it ordinarily produces its deepest and most airy conceits which please me best, when I least expect or study for them; and suddenly vanish, having at the instant nothing to apply them to; on Horse-back, at the Ta∣ble, and in Bed: but most on Horse-back, where I am most given to think. My speaking is a little nicely jealous of Silence and Atten∣tion, if I talk my best. Who interrupts me, cuts me off. In travelling, the Necessity of the way will often put a stop to Discourse; be∣sides that, I for the most part travel without Company, fit to entertain long Discourses, by which means I have all the leisure I would to entertain my self. It falls out as it does in my

Dreams, whilst dreaming, I recommend them to my Memory, (for I am apt to dream that I dream) but the next Morning I may repre∣sent to my self of what Complexion they were, whether gay, or sad, or strange, but what they were, as to the rest, the more I endeavour to retrieve them, the deeper I plunge them in oblivion. So of Thoughts that come acci∣dentally into my Head, I have no more but a vain Image remaining in my Memory, only enough to make me torment my self in their quest to no purpose. Well then, laying Books aside, and more simply and materially speaking, I find after all,* 1.145 that Love is nothing else but the thirst of enjoying the subject desir'd; neither is Venus any other thing than the pleasure of discharging the Vessels, as the Pleasure Nature gives us of discharging other Parts, that either by immoderation or indiscretion become vi∣cious. According to Socrates, Love is the Ap∣petite of Generation, by the mediation of Beauty. And having often consider'd the ridiculous titillation of this Pleasure, the absur'd, hair∣brain'd, and senceless motions with which it inspires Zeno and Cratippus; the indiscreet rage, and the Countenance enflam'd with Fu∣ry and Cruelty in the sweetest effects of Love: and then that soure, grave, severe, and ex∣tatick one i•• so wanton an Action, that our Delights and our Excrements are promiscu∣ously shuffled together, and that the supream Pleasure carries along with it fainting and complaining, as well as Grief; I then believe

it to be true that Plato says, that the Gods made man for their Sport:

— quaenam ista jocandi* 1.146 Saevitia? —

What a strange sporting Cruelty May this be said to be?

and that it is in mockery, that Nature has or∣der'd the most troublesome of Actions to be the most common, by that to make us equal, and to parallel Fools and wise Men, Beasts and us. Even the most contemplative and prudent man, when I imagine him in this po∣sture, I hold him an impudent Fellow to pre∣tend to be prudent and contemplative. They are the Peacocks Feet that abate his pride.

— ridentem dicere verum* 1.147 Quid vetat? —

One may speak Truth in jest without Offence.

They who banish serious imaginations from their sports, do, says one, like him who dares not adore the Statue of a Saint, if not cover∣ed with a Veil. We eat and drink indeed as Beasts do; but those are not actions that ob∣struct the functions of the Soul. In those we maintain our advantage over them; but this subjects all other thought, and by its imperi∣ous authority makes an Ass of all Plato's Divi∣nity

and Philosophy too, and yet he complains not of it. In every thing else a man may keep some Decorum, all other Operations submit to the Rules of Decency; this cannot so much as in imagination appear other than vicious or ridiculous. Examin if you can therein find one wise and discreet proceeding. Alexander said, that he chiefly knew himself to be mortal by this act and sleeping; sleep suffocates and suppresses the Faculties of the Soul; the fami∣liarity with Women does likewise dissipate and exhaust them. Doubtless 'tis a mark, not only of our original corruption, but also of our vanity and deformity. On the one side, Nature pushes us on to it, having fixt the most noble, utile, and pleasant of all her functions to this desire: and on the other side, leaves us to accuse and avoid it, as insolent and in∣decent, to blush at it, and to recommend absti∣nence. Are we not sufficiently Brutes, to call that work brutish which begets us? People of so many differing Religions have concurr'd in several Ceremonies, as Sacrifices, Lamps, bur∣ning Incence, Fasts, and Offerings; and amongst other, in the condemning this Act: All Opi∣nions concenter in this, besides the old custom of Circumcisions. We have peradventure rea∣son to blame our selves for being guilty of so foolish a Production as man, and to call the Act and Parts shameful that are employ'd in the work (I am sure mine are now properly shameful.) The Essenians, of whom Pliny speaks, kept up their Countrey several Ages

without either Nurse or Baby-clouts, by the arrival of Strangers, who following this pretty humour, came continually in to them: A whole Nation being resolute, rather to hazard a total Extermination, than to engage themselves in Female embraces, and rather to lose the suc∣cession of men than to beget one. 'Tis said, that Zeno never had to do with a Woman but once in his life, and then out of civility, that he might not seem too obstinately to disdain the Sex. Every one avoids seeing a man born, every one runs to see him dye. To destroy a spacious Field is sought out, and in the face of the Sun; but to make him we creep into as dark and private a corner as we can. 'Tis a man's duty to withdraw himself from the light to do it; but 'tis glory, and the fountain of many Virtues to know how to destroy what we have done: the one is injury, the other fa∣vour: for Aristotle says, that do any one a Courtesie, in a certain Phrase of his Countrey, is to kill him. The Athenians, to couple the dis∣grace of these two Actions, being to purge the Isle of Delos, and to justifie themselves to Apollo, interdicted at once all Birth and Burials in the Precincts thereof. Nostri nosmet poenitet.* 1.148 We are asham'd of our selves. There are some Na∣tions that will not be seen to eat. I know a La∣dy, and of the best Quality, who has the same opinion, that 'tis an ill sight to see one chew their meat, that takes away much from their Grace and Beauty, and therefore unwillingly appears at a publick Table with an Appetite;

and know a man also, that cannot endure to see another eat, nor be seen himself; and is more shy of company in putting in than put∣ting out. In the Turkish Empire, there are a great number of men, who, to excell others, never suffer themselves to be seen when they make their repast; who never have any more than one a Week, who cut and mangle their Faces and Limbs, and never speak to any one: Fanatick People, who think to honour their Nature by denaturing themselves; that value themselves upon their contempt of themselves, and grow better by being worse: What mon∣strous Animal is this, that is a Horror to him∣self, to whom his delights are grievous, and who weds himself to misfortunes? There are who conceal their Life,

* 1.149Exilioque domos, & dulcia limina mutant,

Some banish'd, do their native seats exchange, * 1.150And Countries under other Climats range.

and withdraw them from the sight of other mens, that avoid Health and Cheerfulness, as dangerous and prejudicial Qualities. Not only many Sects, but many People, curse their Birth, and bless their Death; and there is a Place where the Sun is abominated, and darkness ador'd. We are only ingenious in using our selves ill; 'tis the only quarry our, Wits fly at; and Wit, when misapply'd, is a dangerous tool.

O miseri quorum gaudia crimen habent!* 1.151

O wretched men whose Pleasures are a Crime!

Alas, poor man, thou hast inconveniencies that are inevitable enough without increasing them by thine own invention, and art miserable enough by Nature, without being so by Art; thou hast real and essential Deformities enow, without forging those that are imaginary. Dost thou find that thou hast not perform'd all the necessary Offices that Nature has en∣joyn'd thee, and that she is idle in thee; if thou dost not oblige thy self to more and new? Thou dost not stick to infringe the uni∣versal and undoubted Laws; but stick'st close to those confederate and fantastick ones of thy own, and by how much more particular, un∣certain, and contradicted they are, by so much thou employ'st thy whole endeavour in them: The Laws of thy Parish bind thee; those of the World concern thee not: run but a little over the Examples of this kind, thy Life is full of them. Whilst the Verses of these two Poets treat so reservedly and discreetly of wantonness, as they do, methinks, they disco∣ver it much more. Ladies cover their Necks with Net-work, as Priests do several sacred things, and Painters shadow their Pictures to give them greater lustre: and, 'tis said, that the Sun and Wind strike more violently by Reflection than in a direct Line. The Aegyp∣tian wisely answer'd him who ask'd him what

he had under his Cloak; it is hid under my Cloak, said he, that thou mayst not know what it is: but there are certain other things that People hide only to shew them: Hear this that speaks plainer,

* 1.152Et nudam pressi corpus adusque meum.

And in these naked Arms of mine, Her naked Body I did twine.

methinks, I am eunuch'd with the Expression. Let Martial turn up Venus's Coats as high as he can, he cannot shew her so naked: He, who says all that is to be said, gluts and disgusts us: He, who is afraid to express himself, draws us on to guess at more than is meant. There is a kind of treachery in this sort of Modesty, and specially whilst they half open, as they do, so fair a path to Imagination, both the action and description should relish theft. The more re∣spective, more timorous, more coy, and secret Love of the Spaniards and Italians please me. I know not who of old wish'd his weason as long as that of a Crane, that he might the lon∣ger taste what he swallow'd: it had been bet∣ter wish'd in this quick and precipitous Plea∣sure, especially in such natures as mine, that had the fault of being too prompt. To stop its flight, and delay it with preambles, all things, a Wink, a Bow, a Word, a Sign, stand for fa∣vour and recompence betwixt them. Were it not an excellent piece of Thrift in him that

could dine on the steam of the roast? 'Tis a Pas∣sion that mixes very little with solid Essence, much more with vanity and feverish raving, and we are to reward and pay it accordingly. Let us teach the Ladies to value and esteem themselves, to amuse and fool us, We give the last Charge at the first Onset, the French im∣petuosity will still shew it self. By spinning out their favours, and exposing them in small parcels, even miserable old Age it self will find some little share of reward, according to its worth and merit; who has no fruition but in fruition, who wins nothing unless he sweeps the stakes: and who takes no pleasure in the chace but in the quarry, ought not to intro∣duce himself in our School. The more steps and greices there are, so much higher and more honourable is the uppermost Seat. We should take a pleasure in being conducted to it, as in magnificent Palaces, by Portico's, En∣tries, long and pleasant Galleries, by many turns and windings. This disposition of things would turn to our advantage; we should there longer stay, and longer love; without hope, and without desire we proceed not worth a pin: Our Conquest and intire pos∣session is what they ought infinitely to dread: when they wholly surrender themselves up to the mercy of our Fidelity and Constancy, they run a mighty hazard; they are Virtues very rare, and hard to be found, they are no soon∣er ours, but we are no more theirs.

* 1.153Postquam cupidae mentis satiata libido est, Verba nihil metuere, nihil perjuria curant.

When our Desires and Lusts once sated are, For Oaths and Promises we little care.

And Thrasonides, a young man of Greece, was so in love with his Passion, that having gain'd a Mistresses consent, he refus'd to enjoy her, that he might not by fruition quench and stupifie the unquiet ardour of which he was so proud, and with which he so pleased himself. Dear∣ness is a good Sauce to Meat. Do but observe how much the manner of Salutation, particular to our Nation, has by its facility made Kisses, which Socrates sayes so powerful and dange∣rous for the stealing of Hearts, of no esteem. It is a nauseous and injurious Custom for the Ladies, that they must be oblig'd to lend their Lips to every Fellow that has three Foot-men at his heels, how nasty or deform'd soever:

* 1.154Cujus livida naribus caninis, Dependet glacies, rigetque barba: Centum occurrere malo culilingis.

And we do not get much by the bargain; for as the World is divided, for three beautiful Women we must kiss threescore ugly ones; and to a tender Stomach, like those of my Age, an ill kiss over pays a good one. In Italy they passionately court, even their common

Women, who prostitute themselves for mo∣ney, and justifie the doing so, by saying, that there are degrees of fruition, and that by their Services they will procure themselves that which is best and most intire. They sell nothing but their Bodies, the Will is too free, and too much its own to be expos'd to sale; so say these, that 'tis the Will they undertake, and they have reason; 'Tis indeed the Will that we are to serve, and have to do withall. I abhor to imagine mine in a Body without Affection. And this madness is, methinks, Cou∣sin-German to that of the Boy, who would needs lye with the beautiful Statue of Venus, made by Praxiteles; or that of the furious Egyptian, who violated the dead Carcass of a Woman he was embalming: which was the occasion of the Law afterwards made in Egypt,* 1.155 that the Corps of beautiful young Women, of those of good Quality, should be kept three dayes, before they should be delivered to those whose Office it was to take care for the In∣terrment. Periander did more wonderfully, who extended his conjugal Affection (more regular and legitimate) to the enjoyment of his Wife Melissa after she was dead. Does it not seem a Lunatick humour in the Moon, see∣ing she could no otherwise enjoy her Dar∣ling Endymion, to lay him for several Months asleep, and to please her self with the fruition of a Boy, who stirr'd not but in his sleep? I likewise say, that we love a Body without a Soul, when we love a Body without its con∣sent

and concurring desire. All Enjoyments are not alike: There are some that are He∣ctick and languishing: a thousand other cau∣ses besides good Will may procure us this Fa∣vour from the Ladies: this is not a sufficient testimony of Affection: Treachery may lurk there as well as elsewhere: they sometimes go to't but by halves.

* 1.156tanquam thura merumque parent absentem marmoreamve putes.

So coldly they unto the work prepare, You'd think them absent, or else marble were.

I know some, who had rather lend that than their Coach, and who only impart themselves that way: You are to examin whether your company pleases them upon any other ac∣count, or like some strong chin'd Groom, for that only, and in what degree of favour you are with them.

— tibi si datur uni * 1.157Quo lapide illa diem candidiore notet.

Whether thy Mistriss favour thee alone, And mark thy day out with the whiter stone.

What if they eat your Bread with the sauce of a more pleasing imagination?

* 1.158Te tenet, absentes alios suspirat amores.

She kindly strains thee in her Arms, but has Her thoughts the while fix'd in another place.

What? have we not seen one in these days of ours, that made use of this Act upon the ac∣count of a most horrid Revenge, by that means to kill, and poison, as he did, a beautiful Woman? Such as know Italy, will not think it strange, if for this Subject, I seek not else∣where for Examples: for that Nation may be call'd the Regent of the world in this: They have generally more handsome, and fewer ug∣ly women than we: but for rare and excel∣ling Beauties we have as many as they. I think the same of their Wits; of those of the com∣mon sort they have many, and evidently more. Brutality is without comparison much rarer there; but in singular Souls, and those of the highest Form, we are nothing indebted to them. If I should carry on the comparison, I might say, as touching Valour, that, on the contrary it is, to what it is with them, com∣mon, and natural with us: but sometimes we see them possess'd to such a degree as surpas∣ses the most steady and obstinate Examples we can produce. The Marriages of that Country are defective in this; Their Custom common∣ly imposes so rude, and so slavish a Law upon the Women, that the most remote Acquain∣tance with a Stranger rendred necessarily sub∣stantial; and seeing that all comes to one ac∣count, they have no hard choice to make. And have they broken down the Fence? We may safely presume they have, Luxuria ipsis vin∣culis, sicut fera bestia, irritata, deinde emissa. Lust like a wild Beast, being more enrag'd by be∣ing

bound, breaks from his Chains with greater wildness. They must give them a little more Rein;

* 1.159Vidi ego nuper equum contra sua Fraena tenacem Ore reluctanti fluminis ire modo.

I saw, spite of his Bit, a head-strong Colt Run with his Rider, like a Thunder-bolt.

The desire of Company is allay'd by giving a little Liberty. 'Tis a good Custom we have in France, that our Sons are receiv'd into the best Families, there to be entertain'd and bred up Pages, as in a School of Nobless. And 'tis look'd upon as a discourtesie, and an affront to refuse a Gentleman. I have taken notice (for so many Families so many differing forms) that the Ladies who have been strictest with their Maids, have had no better luck than those who allow'd them a greater Liberty. There should be Moderation in all things, one must leave a great deal of their Conduct to their own Discretion; for, when all comes to all, no Discipline can curb them throughout. But it is true withall, that she who comes off with flying Colours from a School of Liberty, brings with her whereon to repose more Con∣fidence, than she who comes away sound from a severe and strict Education. Our Fathers dress'd up their Daughters looks in Bashfulness and Fear, we ours in Confidence and Assurance. We understand nothing of the Matter. We must

leave it to the Sarmates, that are not to lye with a Man, till with their own hands they have first kill'd another in Battel. For me, who have no other title left me to these things, but by the cares; 'tis sufficient, if according to the Priviledge of my Age, they retain me for one of their Counsel. I do then advise them, and us men too, to Abstinence; but if the Age we live in will not endure it, at least Modesty and Discretion. For as the Story of Aristippus says, speaking to two young men, who blush'd to see him go into a scandalous House; the Vice is in not coming out, not in going in. Let her that has no care of her Conscience, have yet some regard to her Reputation; and tho' she be rotten within, let her carry a fair out∣side at least. I commend a Gradation, and the deferring of time in bestowing of their Favours. Plato declares, that in all sorts of Love, Faci∣lity and Promptness are forbidden the Defen∣dant. 'Tis a sign of eagerness, so rashly, sud∣denly, and hand over head wholly to surren∣der themselves, which they ought to disguise with all the art they have. In carrying them∣selves modestly and unwillingly in the grant∣ing their last Favours, they much more allure our desires, and hide their own. Let them still fly before us, even those who have most mind to be overtaken. They better conquer us by flying, as the Scythians do. To say the truth, according to the law that Nature has impos'd upon them, it is not properly for them either to will, or desire; their part is to suffer, obey,

and consent: and for this it is that Nature has given them a perpetual Capacity, which in us is but sometimes, and incertain; they are al∣ways fit for the encounter, that they may be always ready when we are so.* 1.160 Patinatae. And whereas she has order'd that our Appetites shall be manifest by a prominent Demonstrati∣on, she would have theirs to be hidden and conceal'd within; and has furnish'd them with Parts improper for Ostentation, and simply de∣fensive. Such Proceedings as this that follows, must be left to the Amazonian Licence.* 1.161 Alex∣ander marching his Army thorough Hyrcania, Thalestris Queen of the Amazons, came with three hundred light Horse of her own Sex, well mounted and arm'd, having left the re∣mainder of a very great Army that follow'd her behind the neighb'ring Mountains, to give him a Visit; where she publickly allow'd, and in plain terms told him, that the Fame of his Valour and Victories had brought her thither to see him, and to make him an Offer of her Forces to assist him in the pursuit of his En∣terprizes: and that finding him so handsome, young, and vigorous, she, who was also per∣fect in all those qualities, advis'd that they might lye together; to the end, that from the most valiant Woman of the World, and the bravest man then living, there might spring some great and wonderful Issue for the time to come. Alexander return'd her thanks for all the rest; but to give leisure for the accom∣plishment of her last demand, he detain'd her

thirteen days in that place, which were spent in Royal Feasting and Jollity, for the welcome of so noble a Princess. We are almost through∣out incompetent and unjust Judges of their Actions, as they are of ours. I confess the truth when it makes against me, as well as when 'tis on my side. 'Tis an abominable in∣temperance that pushes them on so often to change, and that hinders them to limit their Affection to any one Person whatever; as is evident in that Goddess, to whom are attri∣buted so many changes, and so many several Enamorato's. But 'tis true withall, that 'tis contrary to the nature of Love, if it be not violent, and contrary to the nature of Violence if it be constant. And they who make it a wonder, exclaim, and keep such a clutter to find out the causes of this Frailty of theirs, as unnatural, and not to be believ'd; how comes it to pass they do not discern how often they are themselves guilty of the same, without any Astonishment or Miracle at all? It would peradventure be more strange to see the Pas∣sion fixt. 'Tis not a simply corporeal Passion.* 1.162 If there be no end in Avarice and Ambition, there is doubtless no more in Desire; It still lives after Saciety, and 'tis impossible to pre∣scribe either constant Satisfaction, or end; it ever goes beyond its possession: and by that means Inconstancy peradventure is in some sort more pardonable in them than in us.* 1.163 They may plead as well as we the inclination to Variety and Novelty, common to us both. And second∣ly,

without us, that they buy a Pig in a poak. Joan Queen of Naples,* 1.164 caus'd her first Husband Andreosse to be hang'd at the Barrs of her Win∣dow in a Halter of Gold and Silk, woven with her own Hand, because that in Matrimonial performances, she neither found his Parts nor Abilities answer the Expectation she had con∣ceiv'd from his Stature, Beauty, Youth, and Activity, by which she had been caught and deceiv'd. There is more pains requir'd in do∣ing than in suffering; and so they are on their part always at least provided for Necessity, whereas on our part it may fall out otherwise. For this Reason it was that Plato wisely made a Law,* 1.165 that before Marriage, to determine of the fitness of the Persons, the Judges should see the young Men who pretended to it, stript stark naked, and the Women but to the Gir∣dle only. When they come to try us, they do not perhaps think us worthy of their choice.

Experta latus medidoque simillima loro * 1.166Inguina, nec lassa stare coacta manu, Deserit imbelles thalamos —

'Tis not enough that a man's Will be good, Weakness and Insufficiency lawfully break a Marriage:

Et quaerendum aliunde foret nervosius illud, * 1.167Quod posset Zonam solvere virgineam.

why not, and according to her own scantling, and amorous intelligence, more bold and active?

Si blando nequeat superesse labori.* 1.168

If strength they want Loves task to undergo.

But is it not a great Impudence to offer our Imperfections and Imbecillities,* 1.169 where we de∣sire to please, and leave a good Opinion and Esteem of our selves? For the little that I am able to do now,

— ad unum* 1.170 Mollis opus —

One bout a Night.

I would not trouble a Woman, that I am to reverence and fear.

— fuge suspicari,* 1.171 Cujus undenum trepidavit aetas claudare lustrum

suspect not him,* 1.172 One whose Love's Wild-fire Age doth throw it's cooling Snow.

Nature should satisfie her self in having ren∣dred Age miserable, without rendring it ridi∣culous too. I hate to see it, for one poor inch of pitiful Vigour, which comes upon it but thrice a Week, to strut, and set out it self with as much eagerness as if it could do mighty feats, a true flame of Flax; and wonder to see it so boyl and bubble, at a time when it is so congeal'd and extinguish'd. This Appetite

ought not to appertain to any thing but the flower of beautiful Youth. Trust not to it, be∣cause you see it seconds that indefatigable, full, constant, and magnanimous ardour that is in you, for it will certainly leave you in the lurch at your greatest need; but rather return it to some tender, bashful, and ignorant Boy, who yet trembles at the Rod, and blushes,

* 1.173Indum sanguineo veluti violaverit ostro Si quis ebur, vel mista rubent ubi lilia multa Alba rosa —

So Indian Ivory streak'd with Crimson shows, Or Lillies white mixt with the Damask Rose.

who can stay till the Morning without dying for shame to behold the disdain of the fair Eyes of her who knows so well his fumbling impertinence;

* 1.174Et taciti fecere tamen convitia vultus,

and though she nothing say, How ill she likes my work, her looks betray.

he never had the satisfaction and the glory of having cudgel'd them till they were weary, with the vigorous performance of one hero∣ick Night. When I have observ'd any one to be troubled with me, I have presently accus'd her Levity; but have been in doubt, if I had not reason rather to complain of Nature, she

has doubtless us'd me very uncivilly, and un∣kindly,

Si non longa satis, si non bene mentula crassa: Nimirum sapiunt videntque parvam* 1.175 Matronae quoque mentulam illibenter.

and done me a most irreparable injury. Every Member I have, as much one as another, is equally my own, and no other does more pro∣perly make me a man than this. I universally owe my intire Picture to the publick. The Wisdom of my Instruction wholly consists in Liberty, and naked Truth; disdaining to in∣troduce these little, feign'd, common, and pro∣vincial Rules, into the Catalogue of its real Duties, all natural, general, and constant; of which Civility and Ceremony are Daughters indeed, but illegitimate. We are sure to have the Vices of Apparence when we shall have had those of Essence. When we have done with these, we run full drive upon others, if we find it must be so. For there is danger that we shall fancy new Offices, to excuse our Negligence toward the natural ones, and to confound them. That this is so, it is manifest, that in places where the Faults are Witch-crafts, the Witch-crafts are but Faults. That in Na∣tions where the Laws of Decency are most rare, and most remiss, the primitive Laws of common reason are better observ'd: the in∣numerable multitude of so many Duties stifling and dissipating our Industry and Care. The

Application of our selves to light and trivial things, diverts us from those that are necessary and just. O, that these superficial men take an easie and plausible way in comparison of ours! These are shadows wherewith we palliate and pay one another; but we do not pay, but inflame the reckoning towards that great Judge, who tucks up our rags and tatters above our shameful Parts, and is not nice to view us all over, even to our inmost and most secret Nu∣dities: it were an useful Decency of our maidenly Modesty, could it keep him from this Discovery. In fine, whoever could reclaim man from so scrupulous a verbal Superstition, would do the World no great disservice. Our Life is divided betwixt Folly and Pru∣dence. Whoever will write but what is reve∣rend and Canonical, will leave above the one half behind. I do not excuse my self to my self, and if I did, it should rather be for my Excuses that I would excuse my self, than for any other Fault. I excuse my self of certain Humours, which I think more strong in num∣ber than those that are on my side: In consi∣deration of which, I will further say this, (for I desire to please every one, though it will be hard to do; esse unum hominem accommoda∣tum ad tantam morum ac sermonum & volun∣tatum varietatem) that they ought not to con∣demn me for what I make Authorities, receiv'd and approv'd of so many Ages, to utter: and that there is no reason that for want of Rhyme they should refuse me the Liberty they allow

even to Church-men of our Nation, and time. Of which here are two, and of the briskest amongst them;

Rimula, dispeream, ni monogramma tua est.* 1.176

Vn vit d'amy la contente, & bien traitte.* 1.177

besides how many others. I love Modesty, and 'tis not out of Judgment that I have cho∣sen this scandalous way of speaking; 'tis Na∣ture that has chosen it for me: I commend it not, no more than other forms that are con∣trary to common usance: but I excuse it, and by Circumstances both general and particular, alleviate the Accusation. But to proceed; From whence also can that Usurpation of sove∣reign Authority you take upon you over the Women, who favour you at their own expence,

Si furtiva dedit nigra munuscula nocte.* 1.178

If in the silence of the Night She has permitted stol'n delight.

so that you presently assume the Interest, Cold∣ness, and Authority of a Husband, be deriv'd? 'Tis a free contract. Why do you not then begin, as you intend to hold on? There is no prescription upon voluntary things. 'Tis against the form; but it is true withall, that I in my time have carried on this intrigue as much as the Nature of it would permit, as conscienti∣ously,

and with as much colour of Justice, as any other contract whatever; and that I ne∣ver pretended other Affection than what I re∣ally had, and have truly acquainted them with the Declination, Vigour, and Birth of the fame, the Fits and Intermissions: a man does not al∣ways hold on at the same rate. I have been so sparing of my Promises, that I think I have been better than my Word.* 1.179 They have found me faithful to their Inconstancy, even to a pro∣fess'd, and sometimes a multiplied Inconstan∣cy. I never broke with them whilst I had any hold at all, and what Occasion soever they have given me, never broke with them to Ha∣tred or Contempt. For such Privacies, though obtain'd upon never so scandalous terms, do yet oblige to some good Will. I have some∣times, upon their tricks and evasions, discover'd a little indiscreet Anger and Impatience; for I am naturally subject to rash Emotions, which though light and short, often spoyl my Mar∣ket. Would they freely have consulted my Judgment, I should not have stuck to have given them sharp and paternal Counsels, and to have pinch'd them to the quick. If I have left them any cause to complain of me, 'tis ra∣ther to have found in me, in comparison of the modern usance, a Love foolishly conscien∣tious than any thing else. I have kept my word in things wherein I might easily have been dispenc'd; they then sometimes surren∣dred themselves with Reputation, and upon Articles that they were willing enough should

be broken by the Conquerour. I have more than once made Pleasure in its greatest effort strike to the interest of their humour; and where Reason importun'd me, have arm'd them against my self; so that they order'd their affairs more decently and securely by my Rules, when they frankly referr'd themselves to them, than they would have done by their own. I have ever, as much as I could, wholly taken upon my self alone the hazard of our assignations to acquit them, and have alwayes contriv'd our meetings after the hardest and most unusual manner, as less suspected, and moreover, in my opinion, more accessible. They are chiefly more open, where they think they are the most securely shut. Things least fear'd are least interdicted and observ'd. One may more boldly dare what no body thinks you dare, which by the difficulty becomes ea∣sie. Never had any man his approaches more impertinently genital; this way of loving is more according to my discipline: but how ri∣diculous and ineffectual to our People, who better know than I? yet I shall not repent me of it, I have nothing there more to lose.

me tabula sacer* 1.180 Votiva paries, indicat uvida Suspendisse potenti Vestimenta Maris Deo.

For me,* 1.181 my votive table shows That I have hang'd up my wet clothes

Upon the Temple Wall Of Sea's great Admiral.

'Tis now my time to speak out. But I might peradventure say, as another would do, Thou talkest idly, my friend, the Love of thy time has little Commerce with Faith and Integrity.

* 1.182haec si tu postules Ratione certa facere, nihilo plus agas, Quam si des operam, ut cum ratione insanias.

These things if thou wilt undertake, By Reason, permanent to make; This will be all thou'lt get by it, Wisely to run out of thy Wit.

On the contrary also, if it were for me to be∣gin again, in earnest it should be by the same method, and the same progress, how fruitless soever it might prove. Folly and Ignorance are commendable in an incommendable action. The farther I go from their humour in this, I approach so much nearer to my own. As to the rest, in this traffick, I would not suffer my self to be totally carried away, I would please my self in it, but would not forget my self withall: I would keep the little Sence and Discretion that Nature has given me, intire for their service and my own: a little Emo∣tion, but no Dotage. My Conscience should also be engag'd in it, even to Debauch and Dissolution; but so far as to Ingratitude,

Treachery, Malice and Cruelty, never. I would not purchace the pleasure of this Vice at any rate, but content my self with its pro∣per and simple expence. Nullum intra se vi∣tium est, Nothing is a Vice in it self. I al∣most equally hate a stupid and slothful Lazi∣ness, as I do a toilsome and painful Employ∣ment; the one pinches, the other layes me asleep. I like wounds as well as bruises, and cuts as well as dry blows. I found in this Com∣merce, when I was the most able for it, a just moderation betwixt these Extreams. Love is a spritely, lively, and gay Agitation, I was nei∣ther troubled nor afflicted with it, but heated, and moreover disorder'd; a man must stop there: it hurts no body but fools. A young man ask'd the Philosopher Panetius, if it was becomming a wise man to be in Love? Let the wise man look to that, answer'd he, but let not thou and I, who are not so, ingage our selves in so stirring and violent an affair, that will slave us to others, and render us contemptible to our selves. He said true: that we are not to intrust a thing so precipitous in it self, to a Soul that has not wherewithall to withstand its assaults, and disprove the saying of Agesi∣laus, that Prudence and Love cannot live to∣gether. 'Tis a vain Employment, 'tis true, in∣decent, shameful, and unlawful; but to carry it on after this manner, I look upon it as whole∣some, and proper to enliven a drowsie Soul, and to rouze up a heavy Body. And, as an experienc'd Physician, I would prescribe it to

a man of my form and condition, as soon as any other Recipe whatever, to rouze and keep him in vigour till well advanc'd in years, and to defer the approaches of Age, whilst we are but in the Suburbs, and that the Pulse yet beats.

* 1.183Dum nova canities, dum prima & recta senectus, Dum superest Lachesi quod torqueat, & pedibus me Porto meis, nullo dextram subeunte bacillo.

* 1.184Whilst Age strait-shouldred hath some youth in it, Whilst my hair's gray, whilst there's a rem∣nant yet For Lachesis to spin, whilst I walk on My own Legs, need no staff to lean upon.

We have need to be trinckled and tickled by some such niping incitation as this. Do but observe what Youth, Vigour, and Gayety it inspir'd Anacreon withall. And Socrates, who was then older than I, speaking of an amorous Object, Leaning, said he, my Shoulder to her Shoulder, and my Head to hers, as we were rea∣ding together in a Book, I felt, without dissem∣bling, a sudden sting in my Shoulder like the biting of a Flea, which I still felt above five days after, and a continual itching crept into my Heart. What only an accidental touch, and of a Shoul∣der, to heat and alter a Soul mortified and enerved by Age, and the strictest liver of all Mankind? And pray why not? Socrates was a Man, and would neither be, nor be like any other thing. Philosophy does not contend

against natural Pleasures,* 1.185 provided they be moderate: and only preaches Moderation, not a total abstinence. The power of resistance is employ'd against those that are adulterate, and introduc'd by Innovation. Philosophy says, that the Appetites of the Body ought not to be augmented by the Mind; and ingeniously warns us not to stir up Hunger by Saturity, not to stuff instead of filling the Belly, to avoid all Fruition that may bring us to want, and all Meats and Drinks that procure Thirst and Hunger: As she does in the service of Love, she there prescribes us to take such an object as may only simply satisfie the Bodies real need, and may not stir the Soul, which ought only barely to follow and assist the Bo∣dy, without mixing in the affair. But have I not reason to believe, that these Precepts, which nevertheless, in my opinion, are else∣where very severe, are only directed to a Bo∣dy in its best, and best performing plight: and that in a Body broken with Age, as in a weak Stomach, 'tis excusable to warm and sup∣port it by Art, and by the mediation of the Fancy, to restore the Appetite, and cheerful∣ness it has lost in it self. May we not say, that there is nothing in us during this earthly Pri∣son that is purely either corporeal or spiritual; and that we injuriously break up a man alive; and that it seems but reasonable that we should carry our selves as favourably at least against the use of Pleasure, as we do against that of Pain? It was (for example) vehement even to

perfection in the Souls of the Saints by Re∣pentance: the Body had there naturally a share by the right of Union, and yet might have but little part in the Cause; and yet are they not contented that it should barely fol∣low, and assist the afflicted Soul. They have afflicted it by it self, with grievous and pecu∣liar torments, to the end, that by emulation of one another, the Soul and Body might plunge man into misery, by so much more sa∣lutiferous as it is more painful and severe. In like manner, is it not injustice in bodily plea∣sures to subdue and keep under the Soul, and say, that it must therein be drag'd along, as to some enforc'd and servile obligation and ne∣cessity? 'Tis rather her part to botch and che∣rish them, there to present her self, and to in∣vite them, the Authority of Ruling belonging to her, as it is also her part, in my opinion, in Pleasures that are proper to her, to inspire and infuse into the Body all the resentment it is capable of, and to study how to make it pleasant and useful to it. For it is good rea∣son, as they say, that the Body should not pursue its Appetites to the prejudice of the Mind; but why is it not also reason that the Mind should not pursue hers to the prejudice of the Body? I have no other Passion to keep me in breath. What Avarice, Ambition, Quar∣rels and Suits do to others, who, like me, have no particular Vocation, Love would much more commodiously do; it would re∣store to me Vigilancy, Sobriety, Grace, and

the care of my Person. It would re-assure my countenance, that the sour looks, those de∣form'd, and to be pitied sour looks of old Age, might not step in to disgrace it; would again put me upon sound and wise studies, by which I might render my self more lov'd and esteem'd, clearing my mind of the despair of it self, and of its Use, and redintigrate it to it self; would divert me from a thousand troublesome thoughts, and a thousand melan∣cholick Humours, that Idleness and the ill posture of our Health loads us withall at such an Age; would warm again, in Dreams at least, the Blood that Nature has given over; would hold up the Chin, and a little stretch out the Nerves, the vigours, and gayety of Life of that poor man who is going full drive toward his ruine. But I very well understand that it is a commodity very hard to recover: by Weakness and long Experience our taste is become more delicate and nice: we ask most, when we bring least; and will have the most choice, when we least deserve to be accepted: and knowing our selves for what we are, we are less confident and more distrustful, nothing can assure us of being belov'd, considering our condition and theirs. I am out of counte∣nance to see my self in company with those young wanton creatures,

Cujus in indomito constantior inguine nervus,* 1.186 Quam nova collibus arbor inhaeret.

to what end should we go insinuate our mi∣sery with their gay and spritely humour?

Possint ut juvenes visere fervidi, * 1.187Multo non sine risu, Dilapsam in cineres facem.

That Youth inflamed may behold: * 1.188Not without laughter, and much scorn, A burning Torch to Ashes worn.

They have Strength and Reason on their side, let us give way, we are most able to make good our ground. And these blossoms of springing Beauty suffer not themselves to be handled by such benumm'd hands, nor be dealt with meer material means. For, as the old Philosopher answer'd one that jeer'd him because he could not gain the favour of a young Girl he made love to, Friend, the hook will not stick in such soft cheese. It is a Com∣merce that requires relation and correspon∣dence: the other Pleasures we receive may be acknowledg'd by recompences of another nature: but this is not to be paid but with the same kind of Coin. In earnest, in this sport, the Pleasure I give does more tickle my ima∣gination, than that they give me. Now, as he has nothing of generosity in him that can re∣ceive a courtesie where he conferrs none, it must needs be a mean Soul that will owe all, and can be contented to maintain a Friend∣ship with Persons to whom he is a continual

charge. There is no Beauty, Grace, nor Priva∣cy so exquisite, that a gallant man ought to desire at this rate. If they only can be kind to us out of Pity, I had much rather dye than live upon Charity. I would have right to ask in the style that I saw some beg in Italy, Fate ben per voi, Do good for your self; or after the manner that Cyrus exhorted his Souldiers, Who loves me, follow me. Consort your self (some one will say to me) with Women of your own condition, whom, the company of one of the same Age will render more easie to your desire. O ridiculous and stupid compo∣sition!

nolo* 1.189 Barbam vellere mortuo Leoni.

Rouse not a sleeping Lioness.

Xenophon lays it for an objection, and an accu∣sation against Menon, that he never made love to any but old Women: for my part, I take more pleasure in seeing only the just and sweet mixture of two young Beauties: or only to meditate of it in my fancy, than to be my self an Actor in the second with a deform'd crea∣ture. I leave that fantastick Appetite to the Emperour Galba, that was only for old cur∣ried flesh: and to this poor wretch,

O, ego Di faciant talem te cernere possim,* 1.190 Charaque mutatis oscula ferre comis, Amplectique meis corpus non pingue lacertis.

O, would to Heaven, that such I might thee see, To kiss those Locks, gray with Antiquity, And thy lank wither'd Body to embrace.

And amongst the Deformities,* 1.191 I reckon forc'd and artificial Beauties. Emonez, a young Cur∣tezan of Chios, thinking by fine dressing to ac∣quire the Beauty that Nature had deny'd her, came to the Philosopher Arcesilaus, and ask'd him, if it was possible for a wise man to be in love, Yes, reply'd he, provided it be not with a sarded and adulterated Beauty, like thine. The Deformity of a confess'd Antiquity, is not to me so despiseable and nauseous, as another that is polish'd and plaister'd up. Shall I speak it without the danger of having my Throat cut?* 1.192 Love, in my Opinion, is not properly and naturally in its Season, but in the Age next to Child-hood;

* 1.193Quem si puellarum insereres choro, Mille sagaces falleret hospites, Discrimen obscurum, solutis Crinibus, ambiguoque vultu.

Whom should you with dishevell'd Hair, And that ambiguous face, bring in Amongst the Chorus of the fair, He would deceive the subtlest there, So smooth, so rosie is his Skin.

nor beauty neither. For whereas Homer ex∣tends it so far as to the budding of the Chin;

Plato himself has observ'd it for rare. And the reason why the Sophist Dion call'd the first appearing Hairs of adolescence, Aristogitons, and Harmodii, is sufficiently known. I find it in virility already in some sort a little out of date, though not so much as in old Age.

Importunus enim transvolat aridas Quercus.* 1.194

Love restless with quick motion flies From wither'd Oaks.

And Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, like a Wo∣man, does very far extend the Advantage of Women, ordaining, that it is time at thirty years old, to convert the title of Fair into that of Good. The shorter Authority we give him over our lives, 'tis so much the better for us. Do but observe his Comportment; 'tis a beardless Boy, that knows not how they pro∣ceed in his School, contrary to all Order; Stu∣dy, Exercise, and Usance, are ways for Insuf∣ficiency to proceed by. There Novices rule. Amor ordinem nescit. Love knows no Order.* 1.195 Doubtless his conduct is much more graceful, when mixt with Inadvertency and Trouble: Miscarriages and ill Successes give him Appe∣tite and Grace, provided it be sharp and eager, 'tis no great matter whether it be prudent or no. Do but observe how he goes reeling, tripping, and playing: you put him in the Stocks when you guide him by Art and Wis∣dom,

and he is restrain'd of his Divine Liberty when put into those hairy and callous Clutch∣es. As to the rest, I oft hear them set out this Intelligence, as intirely spiritual, and disdain to put the interest the Senses there have into Consideration. Every thing there serves turn; but I can say that I have often seen, that we have excus'd the weakness of their Under∣standings, in favour of their outward Beauty; but have never yet seen that in favour of a mind, how mature and well-dispos'd soever, any one would lend a hand to support a Body that was never so little decay'd. Why does not some one make an attempt to make that noble Socratical Contract and Union of the Body to the Soul, purchasing a philosophical and spiritual Intelligence and Generation at the price of his Thighs, which is the highest price it can amount to? Plato ordains in his Laws, that he who has perform'd any signal and advantageous Exploit in War, may not be refus'd during the whole Expedition, his Age, or Deformity notwithstanding, a kiss, or any other amorous Favour from any whatever. What he thinks to be so just in Recommenda∣tion of Military Valour, why may it not be the same in Recommendation of any other good Quality? And why does not some Wo∣man take a fancy to prepossess over her Com∣panions the Glory of this chaste Love? I may well say chaste,

— nam si quando ad praelia ventum est Vt quondam in stipulis magnus sine viribus ignis* 1.196 Incassum furit. —

For when to joyn Love's Battel they engage,* 1.197 Like Fire in Straw they fondly spend their rage.

the Vices that are stifled in the thought are not the worst. To conclude this notable Com∣mentary, which has escap'd from me in a Tor∣rent of babble, a Torrent sometimes impetu∣ous and offensive:

Vt missum sponsi furtivo munere malum,* 1.198 Procurrit casto Virginis è gremio: Quod miserae oblitae molli sub veste locatum, Dum adventu matris prosilit, excutitur, Atque illud prono praeceps agitur decursu, Huic manat tristi conscius ore rubor.

As a fair Apple, by a Lover sent To's Mistriss, for a private Complement, Does tumble from the rosie Virgins lap, Where she had quite forgot it by mishap; When, starting at her Mothers coming in, It is shak'd out her Garments from between, And rouls over the Floor before her Eyes, A guilty blush her fair Complexion dyes.

I say that Males and Females are cast in the same Mould, and that Education and Usage excepted, the difference is not great: Plato indifferently invites both the one and the

other to the Society of all Studies, Exercises, and Commands, both Military and Civil, in the Common-Wealth; and the Philosopher Antisthenes took away all distinction betwixt their Virtue and ours. It is much more easie to accuse one Sex, than to excuse the other. 'Tis according to the Proverb, Ill may Vice correct Sin.

CHAP. VI. Of Coaches.

IT is very easie to make it appear, that great Authors, when they write of Causes, do not only make use of those they think to be the true Causes indeed, but also of those they believe are not so, provided their Works may be illustrated with the Beauty of Invention. They speak true, and usefully enough, if it be ingeniously. We cannot make our selves sure of the supream Cause, and therefore clutter a great many together, to see if it may not acci∣dentally be amongst them,

namque unam dicere causam, * 1.199Non satis est, verum plures unde una tamen sit.

* 1.200And thus my Muse a store of Causes brings; For here, as in a thousand other things, Though by one single Cause th'effect is done, Yet since 'tis hid, a thousand must be shown, That we may surely hit that single one.

Will you ask me,* 1.201 whence the Customs of bles∣sing those that Sneeze? we break Wind three several ways; that which sallies from below is too filthy; that which breaks out from the Mouth carries with it some reproach of having eaten too much; the third Eruption is Snee∣zing, which, because it proceeds from the Head, and is without offence, we give it this civil Reception; Do not laugh at this distinction, for they say 'tis Aristotle's. I think I have read in Plutarch (which of all the Authors I ever convers'd with, is he who has best mixt Art with Nature, and Judgment with Knowledge,) giving a Reason for the rising of the Stomach in those that are at Sea, that it is occasion'd by fear, having found out some reason by which he proves, that fear may produce such an Ef∣fect: I, who am very subject to vomit, know very well that that Cause concerns not me;* 1.202 and know it not by Argument, but by necessa∣ry Experience, without instancing what has been often told me; that the same thing oft happens in Beasts, especially Hogs, when out of all apprehension of danger; and what an Acquaintance of mine has told me of himself, that being very subject to it, the Disposition to vomit has three or four times gone off him, being very much afraid in a violent Storm, as it hapned to that ancient.* 1.203 Pejus vexabar quam ut periculum mihi succurreret. I was too much troubled for my danger to relieve me. I was ne∣ver afraid upon the Water, nor indeed in any other peril (and I have had enow before

my eyes, that have been just enough, if death be one) so as to be astonish'd and to lose my Judgment. Fear springs sometimes as well from want of Judgment as from want of Cou∣rage. All the dangers I have been in I have look'd upon without winking, with an open, sound, and intire Sight; and besides, a man must have courage to fear: It has formerly served me better than some others, so to order my retreat, that it was, if not without fear, nevertheless without affright and astonishment. It was stirr'd indeed, but not amazed nor stu∣pified. Great Souls go yet much farther, and re∣present flights, not only sound and temperate, but moreover fierce. Let us make a Relation of that which Alcibiades reports of Socrates, his fellow in Arms: I found him, says he, after the rout of our Army, him and Lachez in the rear of those that fled, and considered him at my leisure, and in security, for I was mounted upon a good Horse, and he on foot, and had so fought. I took notice in the first place, how much Judg∣ment and Resolution he shew'd in comparison of Lachez, and then the bravery of his march, nothing different from his ordinary gate; his sight firm and regular, considering and judging what pass'd about him, looking one while upon those, and then upon others, Friends and Ene∣mies, after such a manner as incourag'd the one, and signified to the others, that he would sell his life dear to any one should attempt to take it from him, and so they came off; for People are not willing to attack such kind of men, but pur∣sue

those they see are in a Fright. This is the Testimony of this great Captain, which teaches us what we every day see, that nothing so much throws us into dangers as an inconsiderate eager∣ness of getting our selves clear of them. Quo timoris minus est, eo minus ferme pericula est.* 1.204 When there is least fear there is for the most part least danger. Our People are too blame to say that such a one is afraid of Death, when he expresses that he thinks of it and fore-sees it: Fore-sight is equally convenient in what con∣cerns us, whether good or ill. To consider and judge of the danger, is in some sort the re∣verse to being astonish'd. I do not find my self strong enough to sustain the force and im∣petuosity of this Passion of Fear, nor of any other vehement Passion whatever: If I was once conquered and beaten down, I should never rise again very sound. Whoever should once make my Soul lose her footing, would ne∣ver set it upright again: she retasts and re∣searches her self too profoundly, and too much to the quick, and therefore would never let the wound she had receiv'd heal and cicatrize: It has been well for me that never any sick∣ness has yet discompos'd it: At every charge made upon me, I make my utmost opposition and best defence; by which means the first that should rout me, would make me for ever rallying again; I have no after game to play. On which side soever the inundation breaks my banks, I lye open, and am drown'd with∣out remedy. Epicurus says, that a wise Man can

never become a Fool; and I have an Opinion re∣verse to this Sentence, which is, that who has once been a very Fool, will never after be ve∣ry wise. God grant me Cold according to my cloth, and Passions proportionable to the means I have to withstand them. Nature having laid me open on the one side, has cover'd me on the other; having disarm'd me of strength, she has arm'd me with insensibility, and an appre∣hension that is either regular or dull. Now I cannot long endure (and when I was young much less endur'd) either Coach, Litter, or Boat, and hate all other riding but on Horse∣back, both in the City and Countrey. But I can worse endure a Litter than a Coach, and by the same reason, better a rude Agitation upon the Water, from whence fear is produc'd, than the motions of a Calm. At the little jerks of Oars, stealing the Vessel from under us, I find I know not how both my Head and my Stomach disorder'd: neither can I endure to sit upon a tottering Stool. When the Sail, or the Current carries us equally, or that we are tow'd, those equall agitations do not di∣sturb me at all. 'Tis an interrupted Motion that offends me, and most of all when most slow: I cannot otherwise express it. The Phy∣sicians have order'd me to squeeze and gird my self about the bottom of my Belly with a Napkin to remedy this accident; which how∣ever I have not try'd, being accustom'd to wrestle with my own defects, and overcome them by my self. Would my Memory serve

me, I should not think my time ill spent in setting down here the infinite variety that Hi∣story presents us of the use of Coaches in the Service of War: various according to the Na∣tions, and according to the Ages; in my Opi∣nion, of great necessity and effect: so that it is a wonder that we have lost all knowledge of them. I will only say this, that very lately, in our Fathers time, the Hungarians made ve∣ry advantagous use of them against the Turks; having in every one of them a Targetter and a Musket, and a number of Harquebuseers drawn up, ready, and charg'd, and all cover'd with a * 1.205 Pavesade like a Galliot. They made the Front of their Battel with three thousand such Coaches, and after the Canon had play'd, made them all pour in their shot upon the Enemy, and made them swallow that Volley before they tasted of the rest; which was no little advance; and that done, the said Chariots charg'd into their Squadrons to break them, and make way for the rest: besides the use they might make of them to flank their Bodies in a place of danger marching in the Field, or to cover a Quarter, and fortifie it in haste. In my time, a Gentleman in one of our Frontiers, unweildy of Body, and not being able to pro∣cure a Horse able to carry his weight, having a Quarrel, rid up and down in a Chariot of this fashion, and found great Convenience in it. But let us leave these Chariots of War. As if the insignificancy of Coaches had not been sufficiently known by better proofs, the last

Kings of our first Race travell'd in a Chariot drawn by four Oxen. Mark Anthony was the first at Rome that caus'd himself to be drawn in a Coach by Lions, and a singing Wench with him. Heliogabalus did since as much, calling himself Cybele, the Mother of the Gods; and also by Tigers, taking upon him the Person of the God Bacchus, he also sometimes harness'd two Stags to his Coach, another time four Dogs, and another, four naked Whores, causing himself to be drawn by them in Pomp, stark naked too. The Emperour Firmus caus'd his Chariot to be drawn by Ostriches of a prodigi∣ous size, so that it seem'd rather to fly, than roul. The strangeness of these Inventions puts this other Fancy in my head; that it is a kind of Pusillanimity in Monarchs,* 1.206 and a Testimo∣ny that they do not sufficiently understand themselves what they are, when they study to make themselves honour'd, and to appear great by excessive Expence. It were indeed excusa∣ble in a foreign Country, where they are Stran∣gers; but amongst their own Subjects, where they are in Sovereign command, and may do what they please, it derogates from their Dig∣nity, the most supream degree of Honour, to which they can arrive. As, methinks, it is su∣perfluous in a private Gentleman to go finely dress'd at home; his House, his Attendents, and his Kitchin, sufficiently answer for him. The advice that Isocrates gives his King, seems to be grounded upon Reason; that he should be splendid in Pla••e and Furniture: forasmuch

as it is an expence of duration, that devolves to his Successors; and that he should avoid all Magnificences that will in a short time be for∣got. I lov'd to go fine when I was a young∣er Brother, for want of other Ornament, and it became me well: there are some upon whom their rich cloaths weep. We have strange stories of the frugality of our Kings about their own Persons, and in their gifts: Kings that were great both in Reputation, Va∣lour, and Fortune. Demosthenes mightily stic∣kles against the Law of the City, that assign'd the publick Money for the Pomp of their pub∣lick Playes and Festivals: he would that their Greatness should be seen in the number of Ships well equipt, and good Armies well pro∣vided for. And there is good reason to con∣demn Theophrastus, who, in his Book of Rich∣es, has establish'd a contrary opinion, and maintains that sort of Expence to be the true fruit of Abundance. They are delights, says Aristotle, that only please the baser sort of the People, and that vanish from the memory so soon as they are sated with them, and of which no serious and judicious man can have any esteem. This Money would, in my opinion, be much more Royally, as more profitably, justly, and durably, laid out in Ports, Havens, Walls, and Fortifications; in sumptuous Buil∣dings, Churches, Colledges, the reforming of Streets and High-wayes; wherein Pope Gre∣gory the thirteenth will leave a laudable me∣mory to future times; and wherein our Queen

Catharine would to all Posterity manifest her natural Liberality, and Munificence to suc∣ceeding Ages, would her Means supply her Affection. Fortune has done me a great de∣spite, in interrupting the noble Structure of the Pont-neuf of our great City,* 1.207 and depriving me of the hope of seeing it finish'd before I dye. Moreover, it seems to the Subjects, who are daily Spectators of these Triumphs, that their own Riches are expos'd before them, and that they are entertain'd at their own ex∣pence. For the People are apt to presume of Kings, as we do of our Servants, that they are to take care to provide us all things ne∣cessary in abundance; but not touch it them∣selves: And therefore the Emperour Galba, being pleas'd with a Musician that play'd to him at Supper, call'd for his Cabinet, and gave him a handful of Crowns that he took out of it, with these words, This is not the Publick Mo∣ney, but my own. Yet it so falls out, that the People for the most part have Reason on their side, and that their Princes feed their Eyes with what they once had to fill their Bellies. Li∣berality it self is not in its true Lustre in a Sovereign hand: private men have there∣in the most right; for to take it exactly, a King has nothing properly his own; he owes himself to others. Authority is not gi∣ven in favour of the Magistrate, but of the People. A Superiour is never made so for his own Profit, but for the Profit of the Inferiour; and a Physician for the sick Person, and not

for himself. All Magistracy, as well as all Art, has its end out of it self.* 1.208 Nulla ars in se ver∣satur. Wherefore the Governours of young Princes, who make it their Business to imprint in them this Virtue of Liberality, and preach to them to deny nothing, and to think nothing so well spent, as what they give, (a Doctrine that I have known in great Credit in my time) either have more particular regard to their own profit, than that of their Master, or ill understand to whom they speak. It is too ea∣sie a thing to imprint Liberality in him who has as much as he will to supply it with at the expence of others; and the estimate of it, not being proportion'd to the value of the Gift, but to the Wealth of him who extends it, it comes to nothing in so mighty Hands. They find themselves Prodigal, before they can be reputed Liberal; And yet it is but of little Recommendation, in comparison of other Roy∣al Virtues: and the only one, as the Tyrant Dionysius said, that suits well with Tyranny it self. I should rather teach him this of the ancient Labourer,

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.* 1.209

That whoever will have a good Crop, must sow with his hand, and not pour out of the Sack: he must disperce it abroad, and not lay it on a heap in one place: and that being he is to give, or to say better, to pay and restore to so many People, according as they have deserv'd,

he ought to be a loyal and discreet Disposer. If the Liberality of a Prince be without mea∣sure or discretion, I had rather he were cove∣tous. A Royal Virtue seems most to consist in Justice;* 1.210 and of all the parts of Justice, that best denotes a King that accompanies his Li∣berality; for that they have particularly re∣serv'd to be perform'd by themselves, whereas all other sorts of Justice they remit to the Ad∣ministration of others. An immoderate Boun∣ty is a very weak means to acquire them good will, for it checks more People than it al∣lures:* 1.211 Quo in plures usus sit, minus in multos uti possit. Quid autem est stultius, quam quod li∣benter facias, curare ut id diutius facere non possis. By how much more you use it to many, by so much less will you be in a capacity to use it to many more. And what greater folly can there be than to order it so, that what you would do wil∣lingly you cannot do long? And if it be con∣ferr'd without due respect of Merit,* 1.212 it puts him out of countenance that receives it, and is receiv'd without grace. Tyrants have been sacrific'd to the hatred of the People by the hands of those very men they have unjustly advanc'd; such kind of men thinking to as∣sure to themselves the possession of Benefits un∣duly receiv'd, if they manifest to have him in hatred and disdain of whom they hold them; and in this associate themselves to the common Judgment and Opinion. The Subjects of a Prince profuse in Gifts, grow unreasonable in asking, and accommodate themselves not to

Reason, but Example. We have in earnest very oft reason to blush at our own Impudence: we are over-paid, according to Justice, when the Recompence equals our Service; for do we owe nothing of natural Obligation to our Princes? If he bears our Charges, he does too much; 'tis enough that he contributes to them, the overplus is call'd Benefit, which cannot be exacted: for the very name of Liberality sounds of Liberty: there is no end on't, as we use it. We never reckon what we have re∣ceiv'd, we are only for the future Liberality. Wherefore, the more a Prince exhausts himself in giving, the poorer he grows in Friends. How should he satisfie immoderate desires, that still increase the more they are fill'd? He who has his thoughts upon taking, never thinks of what he has taken. Covetousness has nothing so proper, and so much its own as Ingratitude. The Example of Cyrus will not do amiss in this place, to serve the Kings of these times for a touch-stone, to know whether their gifts are well or ill bestow'd, and to see how much better that Emperour conferr'd them than they do: by which means they are reduc'd to bor∣row of their unknown Subjects, and rather of them who they have wrong'd than of them on whom they have conferr'd their benefits, and so receive Aids, wherein there is nothing of gratuitous but the Name. Croesus reproach'd him with his Bounty, and cast up to how much his Treasure would amount if he had been a little closer handed. He had a mind to justi∣fie

his Liberality, and therefore sent Dispatches into all Parts to the Grandees of his Domini∣ons, whom he had particularly advanc'd, en∣treating every one of them to supply him with as much Money as they could for a pressing occasion, and to send him a particular of what every one could advance. When all these Tic∣kets were brought to him, every one of his Friends, not thinking it enough barely to of∣fer him only so much as he had receiv'd from his Bounty, adding to it a great deal of his own, it appear'd that the Sum amounted to a great deal more than Croesus his reckoning. Whereupon Cyrus, I am not, said he, less in love with Riches, than other Princes, but rather a better Husband, you see with how small a venture I have acquir'd the inestimable Trea∣sure of so many Friends; and how much more faithful Treasure they are to me than Merce∣nary men without Obligation or Affection would be; and my Mony better laid up than in Chests, putting upon me the Hatred, Envy, and Contempt of other Princes. The Empe∣rours excus'd the Superfluity of their Plays, and publick Spectacles, by reason that their Au∣thority did in some sort (at least in outward appearance) depend upon the Will of the People of Rome; who, time out of mind, had been accustomed to be entertain'd and caress'd with such showes and excesses. But they were particular men who had nourish'd this Custom, to gratifie their Fellow-Citizens and Compa∣nions, (and chiefly out of their own Purses)

by such Profusion and Magnificence: It had quite another taste, when they were the Ma∣sters who came to hold it up.* 1.213 Pecuniarum translatio à justis dominis ad alienos non debet liberalis videri. The transferring of Money from the right Owners to Strangers, ought not to have the Title of Liberality. Philip, being his Son, went about by Presents to gain the Affection of the Macedonians, reprimanded him in a Letter after this manner. What! hast thou a mind that thy Subjects shall look upon thee as their Cash-keeper, and not as their King? Will't thou tamper with them to win their Af∣fections? Do it then by the benefit of thy Vir∣tue, and not by those of thy Chest. And yet it was doubtless a fine thing to bring and plant within the Theatre a great number of vast Trees, with all their Branches in their full verdure, representing a great shady Forest, dispos'd in excellent order, and the first day to throw into it a thousand Ostriches and a thousand Stags, a thousand Boars, and a thou∣sand fallow Deer, to be kill'd and dispos'd of by the People: the next day, to cause an hun∣dred great Lyons, an hundred Leopards, and three hundred Bears to be kill'd in his presence; and for the third day, to make three hundred pair of Fencers to fight it out to the last, as the Emperour Probus did. It was also very fine to see those vast Amphitheaters,* 1.214 all fac'd with Marble without, curiously wrought with Fi∣gures and Statues, and the inside sparkling with rare decorations and enrichments.

* 1.215Baltheus en gemmis, en illita Porticus auro.

Behold a Belt with Jewels glorious made, And a brave Portico with Gold o're-laid.

all the sides of this vast space fill'd and envi∣roned from the bottom to the top, with three or fourscore ranks of Seats, all of Marble also, and cover'd with Cushions,

* 1.216— exeat, inquit, Si pudor est, & depulvino surgat equestri, Cujus res legi non sufficit.

* 1.217Get y'out, whose means fall short of Law, one cries, For shame from off the noble Cushion rise.

where a hundred thousand men might sit plac'd at their ease: and the place below, where the Plays were play'd, to make it by Art first open, and cleave in chinks, representing Caves that vomited out the Beasts design'd for the Spe∣ctacle; and then secondly, to be overflow'd with a profound Sea, full of Sea Monsters, and loaded with Ships of War, to represent a Na∣val Battel: and thirdly, to make it dry and even again for the Combat of the Gladiators; and for the fourth Scene, to have it strew'd with Vermillion and Storax instead of Sand, there to make a solemn Feast for all that infi∣nite number of People: the last Act of one onely day.

Quoties nos descendentis arenae* 1.218 Vidimus in partes, ruptaque voragine terrae Emersisse feras, & iisdem saepe latebris Aurea cum croceo creverunt arbuta libro. Nec solum nobis silvestria cernere monstra Contigit, aequoreos ego cum certantibus ursis Spectavi vitulos, & equorum nomine dignum, Sed deforme pecus.

How often, when Spectators, have we seen One corner of the Theatre sink in; And from a dreadful Chasm in the Earth, Vomit wild Beasts: Then presently give birth Unto a glittering Grove of golden Bowers, That put forth blossoms of enamell'd flowers. Nor yet of Sylvan Monsters had we sight Alone, I saw Sea-calves with wild Bears fight, And a deformed sort of Monsters came, Which by their shape we might Sea-horses name.

sometimes they have made a high Mountain to advance it self, full of Fruit-trees, and other flourishing sorts of Wood, sending down Ri∣volets of Water from the top, as from the mouth of a Fountain: Other whiles, a great Ship was seen to come rouling in, which open∣ed and divided of it self; and after having disgorg'd from the hold four or five hundred Beasts for fight, clos'd again, and vanish'd without help. At other times, from the Floor of this Place, they made spouts of perfum'd Water, dart their streams upward, and so high as to besprinkle all that infinite Multiude. To

defend themselves from the injuries of the wea∣ther, they had that vast Place one while co∣ver'd over with Purple Curtains of Needle∣work, and by and by with Silk of another colour, which they could draw off or on in a moment, as they had a mind.

Quamvis non modico caleant spectacula sole, Vela reducuntur cum venit Hermogenes.

The curtains, tho'the Sun does scorch the skin, Are when Hermogenes appears drawn in.

The Net-work also that was set before the People to defend them from the violence of these turn'd out Beasts, were also woven of Gold.

* 1.219auro quoque torta refulgent Retia.

And woven Nets refulgent were with Gold.

If there be any excusable in such excesses as these, it is where the Novelty and Invention create more wonder than expence. Even in these Vanities we discover how fertile those Ages were in other kind of Wits than these of ours. It is with this sort of fertility, as with other products of Nature. Not that she there employ'd her utmost force. We do not go, we rather run up and down, and whirle this way and that; we turn back the way we came. I am afraid our knowledge is weak in all Sences. We neither see far forward, nor back∣ward:

Our understanding comprehends lit∣tle, and lives but a little while; 'tis short both in extent of time, and extent of matter.

Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona* 1.220 Multi, sed omnes illacrymabilis Vrgentur, ignotique longa Nocte.

Men slash'd e're Diomed was made;* 1.221 But all are in Oblivion drown'd, And put unmourn'd into the ground, For lack of sacred Poets aid.

Et supra bellum Trojanum, & funera Trojae,* 1.222 Multi alias alii quoque res cecinere Poetae.

And long before the War, and Sack of Troy, On other things Bards did their Pens employ.

And the Narrative of Solon, of what he had got out of the Aegyptian Priests, touching the long life of their estate, and their manner of learning and preserving foreign Histories; is not, methinks, a Testimony to be slighted up∣on this consideration.* 1.223 Si interminatam in om∣nes partes magnitudinem regionum videremus, & temporum, in quam se injiciens animus, & intendens, ita latè longeque peregrinatur, ut nul∣lam oram ultimi videat, in qua possit insistere: In haec immensitate infinita, vis innumerabilium appareret formarum. Could we see on all parts the unlimited Magnitude of Regions and Extent of Times, upon which the mind being intent, does

wander so far and wide, that no limits of the last are to be seen, in which it can bound its Eye. We should in that infinite Immensity discover an innumerable quantity of Forms. Though all that has arriv'd at our Knowledge of times past should be true, and known by some one Per∣son, it would be less than nothing in compa∣rison of what is unknown. And if this Image of the World, which glides whilst we live up∣on it, how wretched and short is the Know∣ledge of the most curious? Not only of par∣ticular Events, which Fortune often renders exemplary, and of great concern, but of the Estate of great Governments and Nations, a hundred more escape us, than ever come to our Knowledge. We make a mighty Business of the Invention of Artillery and Printing, which other Men at the other end of the World,* 1.224 in China, had a thousand years ago. Did we but see as much of the World as we do not, we should perceive, it is to be suppos'd, a perpetual Mul∣tiplication, and Vicissitude of forms. There is nothing single and rare in respect of Nature, but in respect of our Knowledge; which is a wretched Foundation whereon to ground our Rules, and that represents to us a very false Image of things. As we now a dayes vainly conclude the declension and decrepitude of the World, by the Arguments we extract from our own Weakness and decay;

Jamque adeo affecta est Aetas affectaque Tellus.

* 1.225So much the Age, so much the Earth is chang'd.

so did they formerly vainly conclude the Birth and Youth of theirs, by the Vigour they ob∣serv'd in the Wits of their time, abounding in Novelties, and the invention of divers Arts.

Verum, ut opinor, habet novitatem,* 1.226 summa recensque Natura est Mundi, neque pridem exordia coepit: Quare etiam quaedam nunc artes ••xpoliuntur, Nunc etiam augescunt, nunc addita navigiis sunt Multa.

But sure the Nature of the World is strong, Perfect and young; nor can I think it long Since it beginning took, because we know Arts still increase, and still politer grow, And many things, in former times unknown, Are added now to Navigation.

Our World has lately discover'd another, (and who will assure us that it is the last of his Brothers, since the Daemons, the Sybils, and we our selves have been ignorant of this till now?) as large, well peopled, and fruitfull, as this whereon we live; and yet so raw and childish, that we yet teach it its ABC: 'tis not above fifty years since it knew neither Letters, Weights, Measures, Vestments, Corn, nor Vines. It was then quite naked in the Mothers lap, and on∣ly liv'd upon what she gave it. If we rightly conclude of our end, and this Poet of the youthfulness of that Age of his; that other World will only enter into the Light when this of ours shall make its Exit. The Uni∣verse

will be Paralitick, one Member will be useless, another in vigour. I am very much afraid that we have very much precipitated its declension and ruine by our contagion; and that we have sold it our Opinions and our Arts at a very dear rate. It was an infant World, and yet we have not whipt, and sub∣jected it to our discipline, by the advantage of our Valour and natural Forces; neither have we won it by our Justice and Goodness, nor subdu'd it by our Magnanimity. Most of their Answers, and the Negotiations we have had with them, witness, that they were no∣thing behind us in Pertinency, and clearness of natural Understanding. The astonishing magnificence of the Cities of Cusco and Mexi∣co, and amongst many other such like things, the Garden of this King,* 1.227 where all the Trees, Fruits and Plants, according to the order and stature they are in a Garden, were excellent∣ly form'd in Gold; as in his Cabinet were all the Animals bred upon the Earth, and in the Seas of his Dominions; and the beauty of their Manufactures, in Jewels, Feathers, Cotton, and Painting, gave ample proof that they were as little inferiour to us in ••ndustry. But as to what concerns Devotion, observance of the Laws, Bounty, Liberality, Loyally, and plain dealing, it was of Use to us, that we had not so much as they; for they have lost, ••old, and betray'd themselves by this advantage. As to boldness and courage, stability, constancy against Pain, Hunger, and Death, I should not fear to

oppose the Examples I find amongst them, to the most famous Examples of elder times, that we find in our Records on this side of the World. For, as to those who have subdu'd them, take but away the Slights and Artifices they practis'd to deceive them, and the just astonishment it was to those Nations, to see so sudden and unexpected an arrival of men with Beards, differing in Language, Religion, Shape and Countenance, from so remote a Part of the World, and where they had never heard there was any habitation, mounted up∣on great unknown Monsters, against those who had never so much as seen a Horse, or any other Beast train'd up to carry a man, or any other loading; shell'd in a hard and shining skin, with a cutting and glittering Weapon in his hand, against them, who, out of wonder at the brightness of a Looking-glass, or a Knife, would truck great Treasures of Gold and Pearl; and who had neither Knowledge nor Matter with which at leisure they could pene∣trate our Steel: to which may be added, the Lightning and Thunder of our Pieces and Harquebuses, enough to fright Caesar himself, If surpriz'd, with so little Experience; and how, against naked People, if not, where the invention of a little quilted Cotton was in use, without other Arms, at the most, than Bows, Stones, Staves, and Bucklers of Wood; People surpriz'd under colour of Friendship and good Faith, by the curiosity of seeing strange and unknown things; take but away,

I say, this disparity from the Conquerours, and you take away all the occasion of so many Victories. When I look upon that invincible ardour wherewith so many thousands of Men, Women, and Children, have so often present∣ed, and thrown themselves into inevitable dan∣gers for the defence of their Gods and Liber∣ties; that generous obstinacy, to suffer all ex∣tremities and difficulties, and even Death it self, rather than submit to the Dominion of those by whom they had been so shamefully abus'd; and some of them choosing rather to dye of hunger and fasting, than to accept of nourishment from the hands of their so basely victorious Enemies: I foresee, that whoever would have attacqu'd them upon equal terms of Arms, Experience, and Number, would have had a hard, and peradventure a harder game to play, than in any other War we have seen. Why did not so noble a Conquest fall under Alexander, or the ancient Greeks and Ro∣mans; and so great a revolution and mutation of so many Empires and Nations, fall into hands that might have rooted up and gently levell'd, and made plain and smooth whatever was rough and savage amongst them, and that might have cherish'd and propagated the good Seeds that Nature had there produc'd, mixt, not only with the Culture of Land, and the Ornament of Cities, the Arts of this part of the World, in what was necessary, but also the Greek and Roman Virtues, with those that were Originals of the Country? What a particular

Reparation had it been to them, and what a general good to the whole World, had our first Examples and Deportments in those Parts allur'd those People to the Admiration and Imitation of Virtue, and had begot betwixt them and us a fraternal Society and Intelli∣gence? How easie had it been to have made Advantage of Souls so innocent, and so eager to learn; having for the most part naturally so good Inclinations before? Whereas, on the contrary, we have taken Advantage of their Ignorance and Inexperience, with greater ease to incline them to Treachery, Luxury, Ava∣rice, and towards all sorts of Inhumanity and Cruelty, by the Pattern and Example of our Manners. Who ever enhanc'd the price of Merchandize at such a rate? So many Cities levell'd with the Ground, so many Nations ex∣terminated, so many millions of People fallen by the Edge of the Sword, and the richest and most beautiful part of the World turn'd upside down, for the Traffick of Pearl and Pepper: Mechanick Victories! Never did Ambition, never did Animosities engage men against one another to such a degree of Hostility and mi∣serable Calamity. Certain Spaniards coasting the Sea in quest of their Mines, landed in a fruitful, and pleasant, and very well peopled Country, and there made to the Inhabitants their accustom'd Remonstrances; that they were peaceable men, who were come from a very remote Country, and sent on the behalf of the King of Castile, the greatest Prince of

the habitable World, to whom the Pope, God's Vice-gerent upon Earth, had given the Princi∣pality of the Indies.* 1.228 That if they would be∣come Tributaries to him, they should be very gently and courteously us'd, at the same time requiring of them Victuals for their Nourish∣ment, and Gold whereof to make some pre∣tended Medicine. They moreover remonstrated to them the belief of the only God, and the Truth of our Religion, which they advis'd them to embrace, to which they also added some Threats. To which they receiv'd this Answer: That as to their being peaceable, they did not seem to be such, if they were so. As to their King, he seem'd to be neccesitous and poor, because he ask'd, and he who had given him that divident, a man that lov'd dissention, to go give away that to another, which was none of his own, to bring it into dispute against the ancient Possessors. As to Victuals, they would supply them, that of Gold they had little; it being a thing they had in ve∣ry small esteem, as being of no use to the service of Life, whereas their Care was only bent to pass it over happily and pleasantly: but that what they could find, excepting what was employ'd in the Service of their Gods, they might freely take. As to one only God, the Proposition had pleas'd them well, but that they would not change their Religion, both because they had so happily liv'd in it, and that they were not wont to take advice of any but their Friends, and those they knew. As to their Menaces, it was a sign of want of Judgment, to threaten those whose Nature

and Power was to them unknown. That there∣fore they were to make haste to avoid their Coast, for they were not us'd to take the Civilities and Remonstrances of arm'd Men and Strangers in good part; otherwise they should do by them as they had done by those others, shewing them the Heads of several executed men round the Walls of their City. A fair Example of the gibberish, and beginning to speak of this Infancy. But so it is, that the Spaniards did neither in this, nor several other places, where they did not find the Merchandize they sought for, make any stay, or any attempt, whatever other Conveniencies were there to be had; Witness the Cannibals.

Of two the most puissant Monarchs of that World, and peradventure of this, Kings of so many Kings, and the last they exterminated; that of Peru, having been taken in a Battel,* 1.229 and put to so excessive a ransom as exceeds all belief, and it being faithfully paid, and that he had by his Conversation given mani∣fest signs of a franck, liberal, and constant Spirit, and of a clear and setled Understand∣ing; the Conquerours had a mind, after ha∣ving exacted a million, three hundred twenty five thousand, and five hundred weight of Gold, besides Silver, and other things which amounted to no less; (so that their Horses were shod with Massie Gold) yet to see (at the price of what Disloyalty and Injustice whatever) what the remainder of the Trea∣sures of this King might be, and to possess themselves of that also. To which end a false

Accusation was preferr'd against him, and false Witnesses brought in to prove that he went about to raise an Insurrection in his Provinces, by that means to procure his own Liberty. Whereupon, by the virtuous Sentence of those very men who had by this Treachery conspir'd his ruine, he was condemn'd to be publickly hang'd, after having made him buy off the Torment of being burnt alive,* 1.230 by the Baptism they gave him immediately before Execution. A horrid and unheard of Barbarity, which ne∣vertheless he underwent without going less either in Word or Look, with a truly grave and royal Behaviour. After which, to calm and appease the People, daunted and astoni∣shed at so strange a thing, they counterfeited great Sorrow for his Death, and appointed most sumptuous Funerals.

* 1.231The other King of Mexico, after a long time defended his beleaguer'd City, and having in this Siege manifested the utmost of what Suffering and Perseveration can do, if ever Prince and People did, and his Misfortune ha∣ving deliver'd him alive into his Enemies hands, upon Articles of being treated like a King;* 1.232 neither did he in his Captivity discover any thing unworthy of that Title. His Enemies, after their Victory, not finding so much Gold as they expected, when they had search'd and rifled with their utmost Diligence, they went about to procure Discoveries by the most cruel Torments they could invent upon the Prisoners they had taken: but having profit∣ed

nothing that way, their Courages being greater than their Torments, they arriv'd at last to such a degree of Fury, as, contrary to their Faith, and the Law of Nations, to con∣demn the King himself, and one of the princi∣pal Noble-men of his Court to the Wrack,* 1.233 in the Presence of one another. This Lord, finding himself overcome with Pain, being environ'd with burning Coals, pittifully turn'd his dying Eyes towards his Master, as it were to ask him pardon that he was able to endure no more; whereat the King darting at him a fierce and severe look, as reproaching his Cowardize and Pusillanimity, with a rude and constant Voice said to him thus only: And what dost thou think I suffer, said he, am I in a Bath, am I more at ease than thou? Whereupon the other im∣mediately quail'd under the Torment, and died upon the Place. The King, half roasted, was carried thence; not so much out of pity, (for what compassion ever touch'd so barbarous Souls, who, upon the doubtful information of some Vessel of Gold to be made a Prey of, caus'd not only a Man, but a King so great in Fortune and Desert, to be broil'd before their Eyes) but because his Constancy rendred their Cruelty still more shameful. They afterward hang'd him,* 1.234 for having nobly attempted to deliver himself by Arms from so long a Capti∣vity, where he dyed with a Courage becoming so Magnanimous a Prince.

Another time they burnt in the same fire,* 1.235 four hundred and sixty men alive at once, the

four hundred, of the common People, the sixty, the principal Lords of a Province; no other but meer Prisoners of War. We have these Narratives from themselves: for they do not only own it, but boast of it. Could it be for a testimony of their Justice, or their Zeal to Religion! Doubtless these are ways too dif∣fering, and contrary to so holy an end. Had they propos'd to themselves to extend our Faith, they would have considered, that it does not amplifie in the possession of Territories, but in the gaining of men, and would have more than satisfied themselves with the slaugh∣ters occasion'd by the necessity of War, with∣out indifferently mixing a Massacre, as upon wild Beasts, as universal as Fire and Sword could make it, having only, by their good will, sav'd so many as they intended to make miserable Slaves of for the Work and Service of their Mines: So that many of the Captains were put to death upon the place of Conquest, by order of the King of Castile, justly offen∣ded with the horror of their Deportments, and almost all of them hated and disesteem'd. God did meritoriously permit that all this great Plunder should be swallow'd up by the Sea in Transportation, or by Civil Wars, where∣with they devoured one another, and the greatest part was buried upon the Place, with out any fruit of their Victory. As to what con∣cerns the Revenue, that being in the hands of so parcimonious and so prudent a Prince, it so little answers the expectation was given to his

Predecessors of it, and that first abundance of Riches which was found at the first Landing in those new discovered Countreys, (for tho' a great deal be fetch'd from thence, yet we see 'tis nothing in comparison of that ought to be expected) it is, that the use of Coin was there utterly unknown, and that consequently their Gold was found all hoarded together, being of no other use but for Ornament and Shew, as a Furniture reserv'd from Father to Son, by many puissant Kings, who always drain'd their Mines to make this vast heap of Vessels and Statues, for the decoration of their Palaces and Temples; whereas our Gold is always in motion and Traffick: We cut ours into a thousand small pieces, and cast it into a thousand Forms, and scatter and disperse it a thousand ways. But suppose our Kings should thus hoard up all the Gold they could get in several Ages, and let it lye idle by them. Those of the Kingdom of Mexico were in some sort more civiliz'd, and greater Artists than the other Nations that were beyond them: Therefore did they judge as we do, that the World was near its period, and look'd upon the Desolation we brought amongst them for a certain Sign of it. They believ'd that the Existence of the World was divided into five Ages, and the Life of five successive Suns, of which four had already en∣ded their time, and that that which gave them Light was the fifth. The first perish'd, with all other Creatures, by an universal Inundation of Water. The second, by the Heavens falling

upon us, which suffocated every living Thing: to which Age they assign the Giants, and shew'd bones to the Spaniards, according to the pro∣portion of which, the Stature of men amounted to twenty hands high. The third, by Fire, which burnt and consum'd all. The fourth, by an Emotion of the Air and Wind, which came with such violence as to beat down even ma∣ny Mountains; wherein the men dyed not, but were turned into Baboons; (what impressi∣ons will not the weakness of human Belief ad∣mit?) After the death of this fourth Sun, the World was twenty five years in perpetual darkness; in the fifteenth of which, a Man and a Woman were created, that restored human Race: ten years after, upon a certain Day, the Sun appeared newly created, and since the account of their years take beginning from that day. The third day after his Creation, the an∣cient Gods dyed; and the new ones are since born daily. After what manner they think this last Sun shall perish, my Author knows not. But their number of this fourth Change agrees with the great Conjunction of Stars, that eight hundred and odd years ago, as Astrologers sup∣pose, produc'd great Alterations and Novel∣ties in the World. As to Pomp and Magnifi∣cence, upon the account of which I am en∣gag'd in this Discourse, neither Greece, Rome, nor Aegypt, whether for utility, difficulty, or state,* 1.236 compare any of their Works with the way to be seen in Peru, made by the Kings of the Countrey, from the City of Quito, to that

of Cusco, (three hundred Leagues) straight, even, five and twenty Paces wide, pav'd, and enclos'd on both sides with high and beautiful Walls; and close by them on the inside, two clear Rivolets, border'd with a beautiful sort of a Tree which they call Molly: in which Work, where they met with Rocks and Moun∣tains, they cut them through, and made them even, and fill'd up Pits and Valleys with Lime and Stone to make them level. At the end of every days Journey are beautiful Palaces, fur∣nish'd with Provisions, Vestments, and Arms, as well for Travellers, as for the Armys that are to pass that way. In the estimate of this Work, I have reckon'd the difficulty which is particularly considerable in that Place. They did not build with any Stones less than ten foot square: and had no other conveniency of carriage, but by drawing their load themselves by force of Arms, and knew not so much as the Art of Scaffolding, nor any other way of standing to their Work, but by throwing up Earth against the Building, as it rose high∣er, taking it away again when they had done. Let us here return to our Coaches, instead of which, and of all other sorts of Carriages, they caus'd themselves to be carried by men, and up∣on their Shoulders. This last King of Peru, the day that he was taken, was thus carried be∣twixt two upon staves of Gold, and set in a Chair of Gold in the middle of his Battel. As many of these Sedan-men as were kill'd to make him fall, (for they would take him alive)

so many others (and they contended for it) took the place of those that were slain, so that they could never beat him down, what slaugh∣ter soever they made of those People, till a Light horse-man seizing upon him, brought him down.

CHAP. VII. Of the inconvenience of Greatness.

SInce we cannot attain unto it, let us re∣venge our selves by railing at it: and yet it is not absolutely railing against any thing to proclaim its defects, because they are in all things to be found, how beautiful, or how much to be coveted however. It has in general this manifest advantage, that it can go less when it pleases, and has very near the absolute choice of both the one and the other Condition. For a man does not fall from all heights, there are several from which one may descend with∣out falling down. It does indeed appear to me, that we value it at too high a rate, and also over value the resolution of those whom we have either seen, or heard have contemn'd it, or displac'd themselves of their own accord. Its Essence is not so evidently commodious, that a man may not without a miracle refuse it; I find it a very hard thing to undergo Misfortunes, but to be content with a compe∣tent measure of Fortune, and to avoid Great∣ness,

I think a very easie matter. 'Tis▪ me∣thinks, a Virtue to which I, who am none of the nicest, could without any great endeavour arrive. What then is to be expected from them that would yet put into Consideration the glory attending this refusal, wherein there may lurk worse Ambition, than even in the desire it self, and Fruition of Greatness? For∣asmuch as Ambition never comports it self better according to it self, than when it pro∣ceeds by obscure and unfrequented wayes. I in∣cite my Courage to Patience, but I rein it as much as I can towards desire. I have as much to wish for as another, and allow my Wishes as much Liberty and Indiscretion: but yet it never befell me to wish for either Empire or Royalty, for the Eminency of those high and commanding Fortunes. I do not aim that way, I love my self too well. When I think to grow greater, 'tis but very moderately, and by a compell'd and timorous Advancement, such as is proper for me; in Resolution, in Prudence, in Health, in Beauty, and even in Riches too. But this supream Reputation, and this mighty Authority oppress my Imagination. And, quite contrary to some others, I should peradven∣ture rather choose to be the second or third in Perigourd, than the first at Paris: at least, without lying, the third, than the first at Pa∣ris. I would neither dispute, a miserable un∣known, with a Noble-man's Porter, nor make Crowds open in Adoration as I pass: I am train'd up to a moderate Condition, as well

by my choice, as Fortune; and have made it appear in the whole Conduct of my Life and Enterprizes, that I have rather avoided than otherwise, the climbing above the degree of Fortune wherein God has plac'd me by my Birth: all natural Constitution is equally just and easie. My Soul is so sneaking and mean, that I measure not good Fortune by the height, but by the Facility. But if my Heart be not great enough, 'tis open enough to make amends at any ones request freely to lay open its Weakness. Should any one put me upon com∣paring the Life of L. Thorius Balbus, a brave man, handsom, learned, healthful, understand∣ing, and abounding in all sorts of Convenien∣cies and Pleasures, leading a quiet Life, and all his own, his Mind well prepar'd against Death, Superstition, Pains, and other Incum∣brances of humane Necessity; dying at last in Battel with his Sword in his Hand, for the de∣fence of his Country, on the one part; and on the other part, the Life of M. Regulus, so great and high as is known to every one, and his end admirable; the one without Name, and without Dignity, the other exemplary, and glorious to wonder: I should doubtless say as Cicero did, could I speak as well as he. But if I was to touch it in my own Phrase, I should then also say, that the first is as much according to my Capacity, and Desire, which I conform to my Capacity, as the second is far beyond it; that I could not approach the last but with Veneration, the other I would willingly attain

by Custom. But let us return to our tempo∣ral Greatness, from which we are digress'd. I disrelish all Dominion, whether active or pas∣sive. Otanes, one of the seven who had right to pretend to the Kingdom of Persia, did,* 1.237 as I should willingly have done; which was, that he gave up to his Concurrents his right of be∣ing promoted to it, either by Election or by Lot; provided, that he and his might live in the Empire out of all Authority and Subjecti∣on, those of the ancient Laws excepted: and might injoy all liberty that was not prejudi∣cial to them, as impatient of commanding, as of being commanded.* 1.238 The most painful and difficult Employment in the World, in my Opinion, is worthily to discharge the Office of a King. I excuse more of their mistakes, than men commonly do, in consideration of the intolerable weight of their Function, which does astonish me. 'Tis hard to keep measure in so immeasurable a Power. Yet so it is, that it is to those who are not the best natur'd men, a singular incitement to Virtue, to be seated in a place where you cannot do the least good that shall not be put upon Record; and where the least benefit redounds to so many men: and where your Talent of Administration, like that of Preachers, does principally address it self to the People, no very exact Judge, easie to deceive, and easily content. There are few things wherein we can give a sincere Judge∣ment, by reason that there are few wherein we have not in some sort a particular Interest.

Superiority and Inferiority, Dominion and Subjection, are bound to a natural Envy and Contest, and must necessarily perpetually in∣trench upon one another. I neither believe the one nor the other touching the rights of the adverse Party; let Reason therefore, which is inflexible and without Passion, determine. 'Tis not above a Month ago that I read over two Scoth Authors contending upon this Sub∣ject; of which, he who stands for the People, makes Kings to be in a worse Condition than a Carter; and he who writes for Monarchy, places him some degrees above God-Almighty in Power and Sovereignty.* 1.239 Now the Incon∣veniency of Greatness, that I have made choice of to consider in this place, upon some occa∣sion that has lately put it into my head, is this. There is not peradventure any thing more pleasant in the Commerce of men, than the Try∣als that we make against one another, out of Emulation of Honour and Valour, whether in the Exercises of the Body, or in those of the Mind; wherein the Sovereign Greatness can have no true part. And in earnest, I have often thought, that out of force of respect, men have us'd Princes disdainfully and injuriously in that particular. For the thing I was infinitely of∣fended at in my Child-hood, that they who exerciz'd with me forbore to do their best, be∣cause they found me unworthy of their utmost endeavour, is what we see happen to them every day, every one finding himself unwor∣thy to contend with them. If we discover

that they have the least Passion to have the better, there is no one who will not make it his Business to give it them, and who will not rather betray his own Glory, than offend theirs; and will therein employ so much force only as is necessary to advance their Honour. What share have they then in the Engagement, wherein every one is on their side? Methinks I see those Paladins of ancient times present∣ing themselves to Justs,* 1.240 with enchanted Arms and Bodies; Brisson running against Alexander, purposely mist his blow, and made a fault in his Career; Alexander chid him for it, but he ought to have had him whipt. Upon this con∣sideration, Carneades said,* 1.241 that the Sons of Prin∣ces learn'd nothing right, but to ride the great Horse; by reason that in all their Exercises every one bends and yields to them: but a Horse, that is neither a Flatterer nor a Cour∣tier, throws the Son of a King with no more remorse, than he would do that of a Porter. Homer was compell'd to consent, that Venus, so sweet and delicate as she was, should be wounded at the Battel of Troy, thereby to as∣cribe Courage and Boldness to her; Qualities that cannot possibly be in those who are ex∣empt from Danger. The Gods are made to be angry, to fear, to run away, to be jealous, to grieve, and to be transported with Passions, to honour them with the Virtues, that amongst us are built upon these Imperfections. Who does not participate in the hazard and difficulty, can pretend no interest in the Honour and Pleasure

that are the consequents of hazardous Actions. 'Tis pitty a man should be so potent that all things must give way to him. Fortune therein sets you too remote from Society, and places you in too great a Solitude. This easiness and mean facility of making all things bow under you, is an enemy to all sorts of Pleasure. This is to slide, not to go, this is to sleep, and not to live. Conceive man accompanied with Omnipoten∣cy, you throw him into an Abyss: he must beg disturbance and opposition as an alms. His Being and his Good is indigent: Their good Qualities are dead and lost; for they are not to be perceived, but by comparison, and we put them out of it: they have little know∣ledge of the true praise, having their Ears deaft with so continual and uniform an Approbati∣on. Have they to do with the meanest of all their Subjects? they have no means to take any advantage of him, if he but say, 'Tis because he is my King, he thinks he has said enough to express, that he therefore suffered himself to be overcome. This Quality stifles and consumes the other true and essential Qualities: they are involv'd in the Royalty, and leave them nothing to recommend themselves withal, but actions that directly concern themselves, and that meerly respect the function of their Place. 'Tis so much to be a King, that he only is so by being so; the strange lustre that environs him, conceals and shrowds him from us; our sight is there repell'd and dissipated, being stop'd and filled by this prevailing light. The

Senate awarded the prize of Eloquence to Ti∣berius; he refus'd it, supposing,* 1.242 that though it had been just, he could derive no advan∣tage from a Judgment so partial, and that was so little free to judge. As we give them all ad∣vantages of Honour, so do we sooth and autho∣rize all their Vices and Defects, not only by approbation, but by imitation also. Every one of Alexanders followers carried their Heads on one side, as he did;* 1.243 and the flatterers of Dio∣nysius ••un against one another in his presence, stumbled at, and overturn'd whatever was under foot, to shew they were as pur-blind as he. Natural imperfections have sometimes al∣so served to recommend a man to Favour. I have seen Deafness affected: and because the Master hated his Wife, Plutarch has seen his Courtiers repudiate theirs, whom they loved: And which is yet more, Uncleanness and all manner of dissolution has been in fashion; as also Disloyalty, Blasphemies, Cruelty, Heresie, Superstition, Irreligion, Effeminacy, and worse, if worse there be. And by an Example yet more dangerous than that of Mithridates Flat∣terers, who,* 1.244 by how much their Master preten∣ded to the honour of a good Physician, came to him to have Incisions and Cauteries made in their Limbs; for these others suffered the Soul, a more delicate and noble Part, to be cauteriz'd. But to end where I begun: The Emperour Adrian, disputing with the Philoso∣pher Favorinus about the interpretation of some Word: Favorinus soon yielded him the

victory; for which his Friends rebuking him; You talk simply, said he, would you not have him wiser than I, who commands thirty Legions? Augustus writ Verses against Asinius Pollio, and I, said Pollio, say nothing, for it is not prudence to write in contest with him who has power to proscribe: And he had reason; for Diony∣sius, because he could not equal Philoxenus in Poesie, and Plato in Discourse, condemn'd one to the Quarries, and sent the other to be sold for a Slave into the Island of Aegina.

CHAP. VIII. Of the Art of Conferring.

'TIS the custom of our Justice to con∣demn some for a warning to others. To condemn them for having done amiss, were folly, as Plato says, for what is done can never be undone; but 'tis to the end they may of∣fend no more, and that others may avoid the Example of their offence: we do not correct the man we hang, we correct others by him. I do the same. My Errors are sometimes natural, incorrigible, and irremediable: but the good virtuous men do the Publick in making them∣selves imitated, I peradventure may do the same in making my manners evaded:

* 1.245Nonne vides albi ut malè vivat filius utque Barrus inops? magnum documentum, ne patri∣am rem Perdere quis velit.

Do but observe the wealthy Albius's Son,* 1.246 Into what want he is by wildness run; See what a shabby fellow Barrus's grown, Barrus, the ranting'st Gallant of the Town: A good Instruction for young Heirs, that they Should not their Patrimony fool away.

Whilst I publish and accuse my own Imperfe∣ctions, some one will learn to be afraid of them. The Parts that I most esteem in my self, derive more honour from decrying, than from commending my own Manners: which is the reason why I so often fall into, and so much insist upon that strain. But, when all is summ'd up, a man never speaks of himself without loss. A man's accusations of himself are always be∣liev'd, his praises never. There may peradven∣ture be some of my own Complexion, who bet∣ter instruct me by contrariety than similitude. and more by avoiding than by imitation. The elder Cato had a regard to this sort of disci∣pline, when he said, that the wise may learn more of fools, than fools can of the wise; and Pau∣sanias tells us of an ancient player upon the Harp, who was wont to make his Scholars go to hear one that played very ill, who liv'd over against him, that they might learn to hate his discords and false measures. The horror of Cruelty more inclines me to Clemency, than any Example of Clemency could possibly do. A good Rider does not so much mend my seat, as an aukward Attorney, or a Venetian on Horse-back; and a clownish way of Speaking

does more reform mine, than the quaintest Dialect. The ridiculous and simple look of another, does always advertise and advise me; that which pricks, rouzes and incites much better than that which tickles. The time is now proper that we should reform back∣ward, more by dissenting than agreeing, by differing than consent. Profiting little by good Examples, I make use of those that are ill, which also are every where to be found: I endeavour to render my self as agreeable as I see others offensive, as constant, as I see others fickle, as affable, as I see others rough, and as good as I see others evil. But I propose to my self invincible measures. The most fruitful and natural exercise of the Mind, in my opinion, is Conference; I find the use of it more sweet than of any other action of Life. And for that reason it is, that if I were now compell'd to chuse, I should sooner, I think, consent to lose my Sight, than my Hearing and Speech. The Athenians, and also the Romans, kept this Ex∣ercise in great honour in their Academies. The Italians retain some foot-steps of it to this day to their great advantage, as is manifest by the comparison of our understandings with theirs. The study of Books is a languishing and fee∣ble Motion,* 1.247 that heats not, whereas Confe∣rence teaches and exercises at once. If I con∣ferr with an understanding Man, and a rude Je∣ster, he presses hard upon me, and wounds me on both sides; his imaginations raise up mine to more than ordinary pitch. Jealousie, Glo∣ry,

and Contention, stimulate and raise me up to something above my self; and a consent of Judgment is a quality totally offensive in Con∣ference. But, as our minds fortifie themselves by the communication of vigorous and regu∣lar Understandings; 'tis not to be express'd how much they lose and degenerate by the continual commerce and frequentation we have with those are mean and low. There is no Contagion that spreads like that: I know sufficiently by Experience what 'tis worth a yard. I love to discourse and dispute, but it is but with few men, and for my self; for to do it as a Spectacle and entertainment to great Persons, and to vaunt of a man's Wit and Elo∣quence, is, in my opinion, very unbecoming a man of Honour. Impertinency is a scurvy Qua∣lity, but not to be able to endure it, to fret and vex at it, as I do, is another sort of disease, lit∣tle inferiour to Impertinence it self; and is the thing that I will now accuse in my self. I en∣ter into Conference, and dispute with great li∣berty and facility, forasmuch as Opinion meets in me with a Soile very unfit for Penetration, and wherein to take any deep root: no Pro∣positions astonish me, no belief offends me, though never so contrary to my own. There is no so frivolous and extravagant Fancy that does not seem to me suitable to the product of human Wit. We, who deprive our Judgments of the right of determining, look indifferently upon various Opinions, and if we incline not our Judgments to them, yet we easily give

them the hearing. Where one Scale is totally empty, I let the other waver under old Wives dreams. And I think my self excusable, if I ra∣ther chuse the odd number, Thursday, rather than Friday; and if I had rather be the twelfth or fourteenth, than the thirteenth at Table; if I had rather on a Journey see a Hare run by me than cross my way; and rather give my Man my left foot than my right, when he comes to dress me. All such whimsies as are in Use amongst us, deserve at least to be heark∣ned unto. For my part, they only with me import inanity, but they import that. More∣over, vulgar and casual Opinions are conside∣red as things of moment, and are indeed some∣thing more than nothing in Nature: and who will not suffer himself to proceed so far, falls peradventure into the Vice of Obstinacy, to avoid that of Superstition. The contradictions of Judgments then do neither offend nor alter, they only rouze and exercise me. We evade Correction, whereas we ought to offer and present our selves to it, especially when it ap∣pears in the form of Conference, and not of Authority. At every opposition, we do not consider whether or no it be just, but right or wrong, how to disengage our selves: in∣stead of extending the Arms, we thrust out our Claws. I could suffer my self to be rudely handled by my Friend, so much as to tell me that I am a Fool, and talk I know not of what. I love stout Expressions amongst brave Men, and to have them speak as they think. We

must fortifie and harden our hearing against this tenderness of the ceremonious sound of Words. I love a strong and manly Familiarity and Conversation: a Friendship that flatters it self in the sharpness and vigour of its Com∣munication; like love, in biting and scratching. It is not vigorous and generous enough, if it be not quarrelsome; if civiliz'd and artificial, if it treads nicely, and fears the shock.* 1.248 Neque enim disputari sine reprehensione potest. Neither can a man dispute, but he must reprehend. When any one contradicts me, he raises my attention, not my anger: I advance towards him that controverts, that instructs me. The Cause of Truth ought to be the common Cause both of one and the other: What will he answer? The Passion of Anger has already confounded his Judgment; amazement has usurpt the place of Reason. It were not amiss, that the decision of our disputes should pass by wager: that there might be a material mark of our losses, to the end we might the better remember them; and that my Man might tell me, Your Ignorance and Obstinacy cost you last year, at several times, a hundred Crowns. I embrace and caress Truth in what hand soever I find it, and cheerfully sur∣render my self, and my conquer'd arms, as far off as I can discover it: and, provided it be not too imperiously, take a pleasure in being reprov'd; and accommodate my self to my Ac∣cusers, very often more by reason of civility than amendment, loving to gratifie and nou∣rish the liberty of Admonition, by my facility

of submitting to it. Nevertheless, it is hard to bring the men of my time to it. They have not the courage to correct, because they have not the courage to suffer themselves to be cor∣rected; and speak always with dissimulation in the presence of one another. I take so great pleasure in being judg'd and known, that it is upon the matter indifferent to me in which of the two Forms I am so: My Imagination does so often contradict and condemn it self, that 'tis all one to me if another do it, especially con∣sidering that I give his reprehension no grea∣ter authority than what I will my self. But I break with him, who carries himself so high, as I know some do, that repents his advertise∣ment, if not believ'd, and takes it for an af∣front if it be not immediately follow'd. In that Socrates always receiv'd smiling the Contradi∣ctions oppos'd against his Arguments, a man may say his strength of Reason was the cause, and the advantage being certain to fall on his side, he accepted them as matter of new victo∣ry. Nevertheless, we see on the contrary, that nothing in Argument renders our Sentiments so delicate, as the opinion of preeminency and disdain of the Adversary; and that in Rea∣son, 'tis rather for the weaker to take in good part the oppositions that correct him and set him right. In earnest, I rather chuse the fre∣quentation of those that ruffle me than those that fear me. 'Tis a dull and hurtful Pleasure to have to do with People who admire us, and approve of all we say. Antisthenes com∣manded

his Children, never to take it kindly, or for a favour from any man that commen∣ded them. I find I am much prouder of the victory I obtain over my self, when even in the ardour of dispute, I make my self submit to my Adversaries force of Reason, than I am pleas'd with the victory I obtain over him through his weakness. In fine, I receive and admit of all manner of attacks that are direct, how weak soever: but I am too impatient of those that are made out of Form. I care not what the Subject is, the Opinions are to me all one, and I am as indifferent whether I get the better or the worse: I can peaceably argue a whole day together, if the Argument be carri∣ed on with order. I do not so much require force and subtilty, as method. I mean the or∣der which we every day observe in the wran∣glings of Shepherds and Apprentices, but ne∣ver amongst us. If they start from their Sub∣ject, 'tis an incivility, and yet we do it. But their Tumult and Impatience never puts them out of their Theam. Their Argument still continues its Course. If they prevent, and do not stay for one another, they at least under∣stand one another very well. Any one answers too well for me, if he answers what I say. But when the Dispute is irregular and perplex'd, I leave the thing, and insist upon the form with Anger and Indiscretion; and fall into a will∣ful, malicious, and imperious way of Disputa∣tion, of which I am afterwards asham'd. 'Tis impossible to deal honestly and fairly with a

Fool. My Judgment is not only corrupted under the hand of so impetuous a Master, but my Conscience also. Our Disputes ought to be interdicted, and punish'd as well as other verbal Crimes. What Vice do they not raise and heap up, being alwayes govern'd and commanded by Passion? We first quarrel with their Reasons, and then with the men. We only learn to dispute, that we may con∣tradict, and so every one contradicting, and being contradicted, it falls out, that the fruit of Disputation is to lose and nullifie Truth; and therefore it is that Plato in his Republick prohibits this Exercise to Fools and ill bred People. To what end do you go about to in∣quire of him who knows nothing to purpose? A man does no injury to the Subject, when he leaves it to seek how he may defend it. I do not mean by an Artificial and Scolastick way, but by a natural one, with a sound understan∣ding. What will it be in the end? One flies to the East, the other to the West, they lose the principal, and wander in the Crowd of Incidents. After an hour of Tempest they know not what they seek: one is low, the other high, and a third wide. One catches at a word and a simile; another is no longer sensible of what is said in Opposition to him, and thinks of going on at his own rate, not of answering you. Another, finding himself too weak to make good his rest, fears all, refuses all, and at the very beginning confounds the Subject; or in the very height of the dispute

stops short, and grows silent: by a peevish ignorance affecting a proud contempt; or by an unseasonable modesty shuns any further de∣bate. Provided that this strikes, he cares not how much he lays himself open; the other counts his Words, and weighs them for Rea∣sons. Another only brawls, and makes use of the Advantage of his Lungs. Here's one that learnedly concludes against himself, and ano∣ther that deafs you with Prefaces, and sense∣less Digressions: another falls into down-right railing, and seeks a ridiculous quarrel, to dis∣engage himself from a Wit that presses too hard upon him: And a last man sees nothing into the reason of the thing, but draws a line of Circumvallation about you of Dialectick Clauses, and the formulas of his Art. Now who would not enter into distrust of Sciences, and doubt whether he can reap from them any so∣lid Fruit for the service of Life; considering the use we put them to? Nihil sanantibus li∣teris. Who has got Understanding by his Lo∣gick? Where are all her fair Promises? Nec ad melius vivendum,* 1.249 nec ad commodius disse∣rendum. It neither makes a man live better, nor dispute more commodiously. Is there more noise or confusion in the scolding of Fish-Wives, than in the publick disputes of men of this Profession? I had rather my Son should learn in a Tap-house to speak, than in the School to prate. Take a Master of Arts, conferr with him, Why does he not make us sensible of this artificial Excellence? Why does he not ravish

Women, and Ignorants, as we are, with Admi∣ration at the steadiness of his Reasons, and the Beauty of his Order? Why does he not sway and perswade us to what he will? Why does a man who has so great advantage in matter, mix Railing, Indiscretion, and Fury in his Disputations? Strip him of his Gown, his Hood, and his Latine; let him batter our Ears with Aristotle, who is wholly pure, and wholly be∣liev'd, you will take him for one of us, or worse. Whilst they torment us with this Com∣plication and Confusion of Words, it fares with them, methinks, as with Juglers; their Dexte∣rity imposes upon our Senses, but does not at all work upon our belief: this Legerdemain excepted, they perform nothing that is not very ordinary and mean. For being the more learned, they are never the less Fools. I love and ho∣nour Knowledge as much as they that have it. And in its true use, 'tis the most noble, and the greatest Acquisition of men: but in such as I speak of (and the number of them is infi∣nite) who build their fundamental sufficien∣cy and value upon it; who appeal from their Understanding to their Memory,* 1.250 sub aliena umbra latentes; and who can do nothing but by Book; I hate it, if I may dare to say so, worse than Stupidity it self. In my Country, and in my time, Learning improves Fortunes enough, but not Minds. If it meet with those that are dull and heavy, it overcharges and suffocates them, leaving them a crude and un∣digested mass: if airy and fine, it purifies, cla∣rifies,

and subtilizes them, even to Exinanition. 'Tis a thing of almost indifferent quality; a very useful accession to a well born Soul, but hurtful and pernicious to others: or rather, a thing of very pretious use, that will not suf∣fer it self to be purchas'd at an under rate. In the hand of some 'tis a Scepter, in that of others a Fools Bawble. But let us proceed. What greater Victory can you expect, than to make your Enemy see and know that he is not able to encounter you? When you get the bet∣ter of your Argument, 'tis Truth▪ that wins; when you get the Advantage of Fame and Method, 'tis then you that win. I am of Opi∣nion, that in Plato and Xenophon, Socrates dis∣putes more in favour of Disputants, than in favour of the Dispute, and more to instruct Euthydemus and Protagoras in the knowledge of their Impertinence, than in the Impertinence of their Art. He takes hold of the first Sub∣ject, like one that has a more profitable end than to explain it, namely, to clear the Under∣standings, that he takes upon him to instruct and exercise. To hunt after Truth is proper∣ly our business, and we are inexcusable if we carry on the Chace impertinently and ill: to fail of seizing it, is another thing. For we are born to inquire after Truth, it belongs to a greater power to possess it. It is not, as De∣mocritus said, hid in the bottom of the Deeps; but rather elevated to an infinite height in the Divine knowledge. The World is but a School of Inquisition. It is not who shall carry the

Ring, but who shall run the best Courses. He may as well play the fool who speaks true, as he that speaks false▪ for we are upon the man∣ner, not the matter of speaking. 'Tis my humour, as much to regard the form as the substance, and the Advocates, as much as the Cause; as Alcibiades order'd we should: and every day pass away my time in reading Authors, with∣out any consideration of their Learning; their Method is what I look after, not their Sub∣ject; how, not what they write: And just so do I hunt after the conversation of any eminent Wit, not that he may teach me, but that I may know him; and that being acquainted, if I think him worthy of imitation, I may imi∣tate him. Every man may speak truly, but methodically, and prudently, and fully, is a talent that few men have. The falsity also that proceeds from Ignorance does not offend me, but the foppery of it. I have broken off seve∣ral Treaties that would have been of advan∣tage to me, by reason of the impertinence of those with whom I treated. I am not mov'd once in a year at the faults of those over whom I have authority; but upon the account of the ridiculous obstinacy of their Excuses, we are every day going together by the ears: They neither understand what is said, nor why, and answer accordingly, which would make a man mad. I never feel any hurt upon my Head, but when 'tis knock'd against another, and more easily forgive the Vices of my Ser∣vants, than their boldness, importunity, and

folly. Let them do less, provided they under∣stand what they do. You live in hopes to warm their affection to your Service; but there is nothing to be had, or to be hop'd for from a stock. But what if I take things other∣wise than they are? perhaps I do: and there∣fore it is that I accuse my own impatience; and hold in the first place, that it is equally vicious both in him that is in the right, and him that is in the wrong; for 'tis always a tyrannick soureness, not to endure a form contrary to ones own: and besides, there can∣not in truth be a greater, more constant, nor more irregular folly, than to be mov'd and an∣gry at the follies of the World; for it princi∣pally makes us quarrel with our selves, and the old Philosopher never wanted occasion for his tears, whilst he consider'd himself. Miso,* 1.251 one of the seven Sages, of a Timonian and Demo∣critick humour, being ask'd, what he laught at, being alone? That I do laugh alone, answer'd he. How many ridiculous things, in my own opi∣nion, do I say, and answer every day that comes over my head? and then how many more, accor∣ding to the opinion of others? If I bite my own Lips, what ought others to do? In fine, we must live amongst the living, and let the River run under the Bridge, without care, or, at least, without our alteration. To speak the truth, why do we meet a man with a hulch back, or any other deformity, without being mov'd, and cannot endure the encounter of a deform'd mind without being angry? This

vicious sourness relishes more of the Judge than the Crime. Let us alwayes have this say∣ing of Plato in our mouthes; Do not I think things unsound, because I am not sound my self? Am I not my self in fault? may not my observa∣tion reflect upon my self? A wise and divine saying, that lashes the most universal and com∣mon Error of mankind; not only the Re∣proaches that we throw in the faces of one another, but our Reasons also, our Arguments and Controversies are reboundable upon us, and we wound our selves with our own wea∣pons. Of which, Antiquity has left me enow grave Examples. It was ingeniously, and home said, by him who was the inventer of this Sen∣tence;

Stercus cuique suum bene olet.

We see nothing behind us.* 1.252 We mock our selves an hundred times a day, when we deride our Neighbour, and detest in others the De∣fects which are more manifest in us, and ad∣mire them with a marvellous inadvertency and impudence. It was but yesterday, that I saw a man of understanding, as pleasantly as justly scoffing at the folly of another, who did no∣thing but torment every body with the Cata∣logue of his Genealogy and Alliances, above half of them false, (for they are most apt to fall into such ridiculous Discourses, whose Qualities are most dubious, and least sure;) and yet, would he have look'd into himself, he would have discern'd himself to be no less

intemperate and impertinent, in extolling hi•• Wifes Pedigree. Oh importunate presumpti∣on, with which the Wife sees her self arm'd by the hands of her own Husband! Did he understand Latin, we should say to him,

Age, si haec non insanit satis sua sponte, instiga.* 1.253

If of her self she be not mad enough, Faith, urge her on unto the utmost proof.

I do not say, that no man should accuse who is not clean himself, for then no one would ever accuse, because none is absolutely clean from the same sort of spot; but I mean, that our Judgment, falling upon another whose name is then in question, does not at the same time spare our selves, but sentences us with an inward and severe authority. 'Tis an office of Charity, that he who cannot reclaim himself from a Vice, should nevertheless endeavour to remove it from another, in whom peradven∣ture it may not have so deep and so malignant a root. Neither do I think it an answer to the purpose, to tell him, who reproves me for my fault, that he himself is guilty of the same. What by that? The reproof is notwithstand∣ing true, and of very good use. Had we a good Nose, our own ordure would stink worse to us, forasmuch as it is our own. And Socrates is of opinion, that whoever should find him∣self, his Son, and a stranger guilty of any vio∣lence and wrong, ought to begin with him∣self,

to present himself first to the Sentence of Justice, and implore, to purge himself, the as∣sistance of the hand of the Executioner; in the next place he should proceed to his Son, and lastly, to the Stranger. If this Precept seem too severe, he ought at least to present himself the first to the Punishment of his own Con∣science. The Senses are our proper and first Judges, which perceive not things but by ex∣ternal Accidents; and 'tis no wonder, if in all the parts of the Service of our Society, there is so perpetual and universal a mixture of Cere∣monies, and superficial Apparences; insomuch that the best and most effectual part of our Policies do therein consist: 'Tis still man with whom we have to do, of whom the Conditi∣on is wonderfully Corporal. Let those, who of these late years would erect for us such a contemplative and immaterial an Exercise of Religion, not wonder if there be some who think it had vanish'd and melted through their Fingers, had it not more upheld it self amongst us as a Mark, Title, and Instrument of Divisi∣on and Faction, than by it self. As in Confe∣rence, the Gravity, Robes, and Fortune of him that speaks, oft-times gives Reputation to vain Arguments and idle Words; it is not to be presum'd, but that a man so attended and fear'd, has in him more than ordinary Sufficiency; and that he to whom the King has given so many Offices and Commissions, so supercilious and proud, has not a great deal more in him, than another that salutes him at so great a distance,

and who has no Employment at all. Not on∣ly the Words, but the sour looks also of these People are considered and recorded; every one making it his Business to give them some fine and solid Interpretation. If they stoop to common Conference, and that you offer any thing but Approbation and Reverence, they then knock you down with the Authority of their Experience; they have heard, they have seen, they have done so and so, you are crush'd with Examples. I should tell them, that the Fruit of a Chirurgions Experience, is not the History of his Practices, and his remembring that he has cur'd four People of the Plague, and three of the Gout, unless he knows how from hence to extract something whereon to form his Judgement, and to make us sensible that he is become more skilful in his Art. As in a Consort of Instruments, we do not hear a Lute, a Harpsical, or a Flute alone, but one intire Harmony of all together. If Travel and Offices have improv'd them, 'tis a product of their Understanding to make it appear. 'Tis not enough to reckon Experiments, they must weigh and sort them, digest and distill them, to extract the Reasons and Conclusions they carry along with them. There were never so many Historians. It is indeed good, and of use to read them; for they furnish us every where with excellent and laudable Instructions from the Magazine of their Memory, which doubtless is of great concern to the relief of Life; but 'tis not that we seek for now: we

examine whether these Relators and Collectors of things are commendable themselves. I hate all sorts of Tyranny, whether Verbal or Ef∣fectual. I am very ready to oppose my self against these vain Circumstances that delude our Judgements by the Senses; and whilst I lye upon my Guard from these extraordinary Grandeurs, I find, that at best, they are but Men, as others are;

* 1.254Rarus enim firme Sensus communis in illa Fortuna.

* 1.255For 'tis rare If mighty Fortunes common Sence can share.

Peradventure we esteem and look upon them for less than they are, by reason they under∣take more, and more expose themselves; they do not answer the charge they have underta∣ken. There must be more Vigour and Strength in the Bearer, than the Burthen; he who has not lifted as much as he can, leaves you to ghess, that he has still a Strength beyond that; and that he has not been try'd to the utmost of what he is able to do; He who sinks under his load, makes a discovery of his best, and the weakness of his Shoulders. This is the reason that we see so many silly Souls amongst the Learned, and more than those of the better sort: they would have made good Husbandmen, good Merchants, and good Ar∣tizans: their natural vigour was cut out to that proportion. Knowledge is a thing of great

weight, they faint under it: their Understan∣ding has neither vigour nor dexterity enough to set forth and distribute, to employ, or make use of this rich and powerful matter. It has no prevailing virtue but in a strong Nature; and such Natures are very rare. And the weak ones, sayes Socrates, spoil the dignity of Phi∣losophy in the handling. It appears useless and vicious, when lodg'd in an ill contriv'd mind. They spoil and make fools of themselves.

Humani qualis simulator simius oris, Quem puer arridens,* 1.256 pretioso stamine serum Velavet, nudasque nates, ac terga reliquit Ludibrium mensis.

Just like an Ape, that in his face does bear Of man the counterfeited Character, Whom wanton Boyes to Table laughter move, Have dizen'd up in richest silks above, And, the Ape more ridiculous to show, The raw, bald buttocks naked left below.

Neither is it enough for those who govern and command us, and have all the World in their hands, to have a common understanding, and to be able to do the same that we can. They are very much below us, if they be not in∣finitely above us. As they promise more, so they are to perform more; and yet silence is to them not only a countenance of respect and gravity, but very often of good husbandry too: for Megabysus, going to see Apelles in his paint∣ing

room, stood a great while without speak∣ing a word, and at last began to talk of his Paintings; for which he receiv'd this rude reproof; Whilst than wast silent, thou seemd'st to be some extraordinary Person, by reason of thy Chains and rich Habit, but now that we have heard thee speak, there is not the meanest Boy in my Shop that does not despise thee. Those Princely Ornaments and that mighty state, did not per∣mit him to be ignorant with a common igno∣rance, and to speak impertinently of Painting; he ought to have kept this external and pre∣sumptive knowledge silent. To how many Puppies of my time has a sullen and silent fa∣shion procur'd the opinion of Prudence and Capacity?* 1.257 Dignities and Offices are of neces∣sity conferr'd more by Fortune than upon the account of Merit, and we are oft too blame, to condemn Kings when they are misplac'd. On the contrary, 'tis a wonder they should have so good luck where there is so little skill;

* 1.258Principis est virtus maxima, nosse suos.

There's of a Princes Virtues none So great, as that he know his own.

For Nature has not given them a sight that can extend to so many People, to discern which excells the rest, nor to penetrate into our Bosoms, where the knowledge of our Wills and best value lies. They must choose us by conjecture and by groping; by the Family,

Wealth, Learning, and the Voice of the Peo∣ple, which are all very feeble Arguments. Whoever could find out a way that a man might judge by Justice, and chuse men by Reason, would in one thing establish a per∣fect Form of Government. Ay, but he brought this great Affair to a very good pass. That is indeed to say something, but not to say enough. For this Sentence is justly receiv'd, That we are not to judge of Counsels by Events. The Carthaginians punish'd the ill Counsels of their Captains, though the Issue was successful; and the People of Rome have oft deny'd a Triumph for great and very advantageous Victories, because the Conduct of the General was not answerable to his good fortune. We ordinari∣ly▪ see in the actions of the World, that For∣tune, to shew us her power in all things, and that she takes a pride to abate our Presumption, seeing she could not make Fools wise, she has made them fortunate, in envy of Virtue; and does most favour those Executions, the Web of which is most purely her own. Whence it is, that we daily see the simplest amongst us bring to pass great Business, both publick and private. And, as Syrannez the Persian an∣swer'd those who wonder'd that his Affairs succeeded so ill, considering that his Delibera∣tions were so wise, that he was sole Master of his Designs, but that the Success was wholly in the power of Fortune. These may answer the same, but with a contrary Biass, Most world∣ly Affairs are govern'd and perform'd by her.

* 1.259Fata viam inveniunt.

The Event does often justifie a very foolish Conduct. Our interposition is nothing more than as it were a running on by rote, and more commonly a Consideration of Custom and Example, than of Reason. Being astonish'd at the Greatness of the Execution, I have for∣merly been acquainted with their Motives and Address, by those who had perform'd it, and have found nothing in it, but very ordinary Counsels; and the most vulgar and useful are also perhaps the most sure and convenient for practice, if not for show. And what if the plainest Reasons are the best seated? the meanest, lowest, and most beaten more adap∣ted to Affairs?* 1.260 To maintain the Authority of the Counsels of Kings, 'tis not fit that profane Persons should participate of them, or see fur∣ther into them than the outmost Barr. He that will husband his Reputation, must be re∣verenc'd upon Credit, and taken all together. My Consultation gives the first lines to the Matter, and considers it lightly by the first face it presents: the stress and main of the Business I have still referr'd to Heaven:

* 1.261Permitte divis caetera.

good and ill Fortune are in my Opinion two Sovereign Powers. 'Tis Folly to think that humane Prudence can play the part of Fortune; and vain is his attempt, who presumes to com∣prehend

Causes and Consequences, and by the hand to conduct the progress of his design; and most especially vain in the Deliberations of War. There was never greater Circum∣spection and Military Prudence, than some∣times is seen amongst us: can it be that men are afraid to lose themselves by the way, that they reserve themselves to the end of the Game? I do moreover affirm, that our Wisdom it self, and wisest Consultations, for the most part commit themselves to the Conduct of Chance. My Will and my Reason is sometimes mov'd by one Breath, and sometimes by another; and many of these movements there are, that go∣vern themselves without me: my Reason has uncertain and casual agitations and impulsions.

Vertuntur species animorum,* 1.262 & pectora motus Nunc alios, alios dum nubila ventus agebat Concipiunt.

Their thoughts are chang'd,* 1.263 the motions of their mind, Inconstant are, like Clouds before the Wind.

Let a man but observe who are of greatest Authority in Cities, and who best do their own business, we shall find that they are commonly men of the least Parts: Women, Children, and mad-men have had the fortune to govern great Kingdoms equally well with the wisest Prin∣ces: and Thucydides says, that the stupid more frequently do it than those of better under∣standings. We attribute the effects of their good fortune to their Prudence.

Vt quisque fortuna utitur, * 1.264Ita praecellet; atque exinde sapere illum omnes dicimus.

Men, as they husband their Estates, we prize, And who are rich, are still reputed wise.

Wherefore I say, that in all sorts of Fortune Events are a very poor testimony of our worth and Parts. Now I was upon this point, that there needs no more, but to see a man promoted to Dignity, though we knew him but three dayes before a man of no regard; yet an image of Grandeur, and some extraor∣dinary Parts insensibly steals into our opinion, and we persuade our selves, that being aug∣mented in Reputation and Attendants, he is also increas'd in Merit. We judge of him not according to his value, but as we do by Coun∣ters, according to the prerogative of his Place. If it happen so that he fall again, and be mix'd with the common crowd, every one inquires with admiration into the cause of his having been rais'd so high. Is it he? say they, could he make no better provision for himself when he was in place? Do Princes satisfie themselves with so little? Really we were in good hands. This is a thing that I have often seen in my time. Nay, so much as the very disguises of Gran∣deurs represented in our Comedies, does in some sort move and deceive us. That which I my self adore in Kings, is, the Crowd of their Adorers. All Reverence and Submission is due to them, except that of the Understan∣ding:

my Reason is not oblig'd to bow and bend, my Knees are. Melanthius being ask'd, what he thought of the Tragedy of Dionysius? I could not see't, said he, it was so clouded with Language: so the most of those who judge of the Discourses of great men, ought to say, I did not understand his words, he was so clouded with Gravity, Majesty, and Great∣ness. Antisthenes, one day intreated the Athe∣nians to give order that their Asses might as well be employ'd in tilling the ground as the Horses were: To which it was answer'd, that those Animals were not destin'd for such a ser∣vice: That's all one, reply'd he, it only sticks at your command: for the most ignorant and incapable men you employ in your Commands of War, immediately become worthy enough because you employ them. To which, the Custom of so many People who Canonize the Kings they have chosen out of their own Body, and are not content only to honour, but adore them, comes very near.* 1.265 Those of Mexico, after the Ceremonies of his Coronation, dare no more presume to look him in the face; but, as if they had deified him by his Royalty, amongst the Oaths they make him take to main∣tain their Religion and Laws, to be valiant, just, and mild, he moreover swears to make the Sun run his Course in his wonted Light, to drain the Clouds at a fit Season, to confine Rivers within their Channels, and to cause all things necessary for his People to be landed upon the Earth. I differ from this common fa∣shion,

and am more apt to suspect his Capaci∣ty, when I see it accompanied with that gran∣deur of Fortune and publick Applause. We are to consider, of what advantage it is to speak when he pleases, to chuse the Subject he will speak of, to interrupt or change other mens Arguments with a Magisterial Authority; to protect himself from the oppositions of others by a nod, a smile, or silence, in the presence of an Assembly that trembles with reverence and respect. A man of a prodigious Fortune, com∣ming to give his Judgment upon some slight Dispute that was foolishly set on foot at his Table, begun in these words, It can be no other but a Lyar or a Fool, that will say other∣wise than so and so. Pursue this philosophical Point with a Dagger in your hand. There is another Observation I have made, from which I draw great advantage; which is, that in Conferences and Disputes, every word that seems to be good is not immediately to be ac∣cepted. Most men are rich in borrow'd Sen∣tences, without understanding the force of them themselves. That a man does not per∣fectly understand all he borrows, may perhaps be verified in my self. A man must not al∣ways presently yield, what truth or beauty so∣ever may seem to be in the Argument. Either a man must stoutly oppose it, or retire, under colour of not understanding it, to try on all parts how it is lodg'd in the Author. It may happen that we may run upon the point, and meet the truth that we could not otherwise

reach. I have sometimes, in the necessity and heat of the Combat, made falsifies that have gone through and through, beyond my expe∣ctation and design. I only gave them in num∣ber, they were receiv'd in weight. As when I contend with a vigorous man, I please my self with anticipating his conclusions, I ease him of the trouble of explaining himself; I strive to prevent his Imagination, whilst it is yet spring∣ing and imperfect: the Order and Pertinen∣cy of his Understanding, warns and threatens me afar off: I deal quite contrary with these; I must understand, and presuppose nothing but by them. If they determine in general words, this is good, that is naught, and that they hap∣pen to be in the right, see if it be not For∣tune that hits it off for them. Let them a lit∣tle circumscribe and limit their Judgment, why, or how it is so. These universal Judg∣ments, that I see so common, signifie nothing. These are men that salute a whole People in a crowd together; They who have a real ac∣quaintance, take notice of, and salute them par∣ticularly and by name. But 'tis a hazardous At∣tempt; and from which I have more than eve∣ry day seen it fall out, that weak Understan∣dings, having a mind to appear ingenious, in taking notice, as they read a Book, of that is best, and most to be admir'd, fix their admi∣ration upon something so very ill chosen, that instead of making us discern the excellency of the Author, they make us see their own igno∣rance. This exclamation is safe enough, This

is fine, after having heard a whole Page of Vir∣gil: and by that the cunning sort of Fools save themselves. But to undertake to follow him line by line, and with an expert and approv'd judgement, to observe where a good Author excells himself, weighing the Words, Phrases, Inventions and various Excellencies, one after another;* 1.266 take heed of that, Videndum est, non modo, quid quisque loquatur, sed etiam, quid quisque sentiat, atque etiam qua de causa quisque sentiat. A man is not only to examine what eve∣ry one sayes, but also what every one thinks, and for what reason every one thinks. I every day hear Coxcombs say things that are not foolish: They say a good thing, let us examine how far they understand it, whence they have it, and what they mean by it. We help them to make use of this fine Expression, of this fine Sentence, which is none of theirs, they only have it in keeping; they have spit it out at a venture, we bring it for them into credit and esteem. You take them by the hand when you see them falling. To what purpose? They do not think themselves oblig'd to you for it, and become more fools still. Never take their part, let them alone; they will handle the matter like People who are afraid of burning their fingers, they neither dare change its seat nor light, nor break into it, shake it never so lit∣tle, it slips through their fingers; they give up their cause, be it never so strong, or good however. These are fine Arms, but ill hasted. How many times have I seen the experience?

Now if you come to explain any thing to them, and to confirm them, they presently catch at it, and presently rob you of the ad∣vantage of your interpretation; It was what I was about to say; it was just my conceit, and if I did not express it so, it was for want of Lan∣guage. Very pretty! Malice it self must be em∣ploy'd to correct this proud Ignorance. He∣gias his Doctrine, that we are neither to hate, nor accuse, but instruct, has reason elsewhere; But here 'tis injustice and inhumanity, to re∣lieve and set him right who stands in no need on't, and is the worse for't. I love to let them step deeper into the dirt; and so deep, that if it be possible, they may at last discern their errour.* 1.267 Folly and absurdity are not to be cur'd by bare Admonition. And what Cyrus answer'd to him, who importun'd him to harangue his Army, upon the point of Battel, that men do not become valiant and warlike upon a sudden, by a fine Oration, no more than a man becomes a good Musician by hearing a fine Song, may properly be said of such an Admonition as this. These are Ap∣prentice-ships that are to be serv'd before-hand, by a long and continu'd Education. We owe this care, and this assiduity of Correction and Instruction to our own; but to go preach to the first passer by, and to Lord it over the Ignorance and Folly of the first we meet, is a thing that I abhor. I rarely do it, even in particular conferen∣ces, and rather surrender my cause, than proceed to these supercilious and magisterial instructions.

My humour is unfit either to speak or write for Beginner; but for things that are said in common Discourse, or amongst other things▪ I never oppose them, either by word or sign, how false or absurd soever. As to the rest, nothing vexes me so ill in Folly, as that it pleases it self more than any Reason can rea∣sonably please it self. 'Tis ill luck, that Pru∣dence forbids us to satisfie and trust in our selves, and always dismisses us timorous and discontent; whereas Obstinacy and Temerity fill those who are possess'd with them with joy and assurance. 'Tis for the ignorant to look at other men over the shoulder, al∣ways returning from the combat full of Joy and Triumph. And moreover, for the most part, this arrogancy of Speech and gaiety of Countenance gives them the better of it in the opinion of the Audience, which is commonly ignorant, and incapable of well judging and discerning the real advantage. Obstinacy of Opinion,* 1.268 and heat in Argument are the surest proofs of Folly. Is there any thing so assur'd, resolute, disdainful, contemplative, serious and grave as an Ass? may we not mix with the title of Conference and Communication, the quick and sharp Reparties which Mirth and Familiarity introduces amongst Friends, plea∣santly and wittily jesting with one another? An exercise for which my natural gayety ren∣ders me fit enough; which, if it be not too long and serious, as the other I spoke of but now, 'tis no less smart and ingenious, nor of

less utility, as Lycurgus thought. For my part, I contribute to it more Liberty than Wit, and have therein more of Luck than Invention; but I am perfect in suffering, for I endure a Revenge, that is not only tart, but indiscreet to boot, without being mov'd at all. And whoever attaques me, if I have not a brisk answer immediately ready, I do not study to pursue the Point with a tedious and imperti∣nent Contest, bordering upon Obstinacy, but let it pass, and deferr my revenge to another, and some better time. There is no Merchant that always gets. Most men change their Coun∣tenance and their Voice where their Wits fail, and by an unseasonable Indignation, instead of revenging themselves, accuse at once their own Folly and Impatience. In this Jollity we sometimes pinch the private strings of our Imperfection, which, at another time, when more temperate, we cannot touch without offence, and profitably give one another a hint of our Defects. There are other Sports of Hand, rude and indiscreet, after the French manner, that I mortally hate; my skin is very tender and sensible: I have in my time seen two Princes of the Blood Interr'd upon that very account. 'Tis unhandsome to fall out, and fight in play. As to the rest, when I have a mind to judge of any one, I ask him how much he is contented with himself, to what degree his speaking or his work pleases him. I will none of these fine excuses, I did it only in sport:

* 1.269Ablatum mediis opus est incudibus istud.

This Work unfinish'd from the Anvil came.

I was not an hour about it: I have never revis'd it since. Well then, say I, lay these aside, and give a perfect one, such a one as you would be measur'd by: And then, what do you think is the best thing in your Work? Is it this part or that? the Grace, or the Matter, the Invention, the Judgment, or the Learning? For I find that men are commonly as wide of the mark in judging of their own Works, as those of others; not only by reason of the kindness they have for them, but for want of capacity to know and distinguish them. The Work, by its own Force and fortune, may se∣cond the Workman, and sometimes out-strip him, beyond his Invention and Knowledge. For my part, I do not judge of the value of other mens Works more obscurely than of my own; and prize my Essays now high, now low, with great doubt and inconstancy. There are several Books that are useful upon the account of their Subjects, from which the Author derives no praise; and good Books, as well as good Works, that shame the Work∣man. I may write the manner of our Feasts, and the fashion of our Cloaths, and may write them ill; I may publish the Edicts of my time, and the Letters of Princes that pass from hand to hand; I may make an Abridgment of a good Book, (and every Abridgment upon a

good Book is a foolish Abridgment) which Book shall come to be lost, and the like.* 1.270 Po∣sterity will derive a singular utility from such Compositions: but what honour shall I have, unless by great good fortune? A great part of the most famous Books are in this conditi∣on. When I read Philip de Commines, several years ago, doubtless a very good Author, I there took notice of this for no vulgar saying, That a man must have a care of doing his Ma∣ster so great service, till at last he will not know how to give him his just reward. I ought to commend the Invention, not him, because I met with it in Tacitus not long since:* 1.271 Bene∣ficia eo usque laeta sunt, dum videntur exolvi posse, ubi multum antevenere, pro gratia odium redditur. Benefits are so far acceptable, as they are in a capacity of being return'd; but once ex∣ceeding that, hatred is return'd instead of thanks. And Seneca boldly sayes,* 1.272 Nam qui putat esse turpe non reddere, non vult esse cui reddat. For he who thinks it a shame not to requite, would not have that man live to whom he owes return. Q. Cicero says more faintly, Qui se non putat satisfacere, amicus esse nullo modo potest. Who thinks himself behind hand in obligation, can by no means be a friend. The Subject, according to what it is, may make a man look'd upon as Learned, and of good memory, but to judge in him the Parts that are most his own, and the most worthy, the vigour and beauty of his Soul; a man must first know what is his own, and what is not; and in that which is

not his own, how much we are oblig'd to him for the Choice, Disposition, Ornament, and Language he has there presented us with. What if he has borrow'd the matter, and spoil'd the form? as it oft falls out; we who are lit∣tle read in Books are in this straight, that when we meet with a great Fancy in some new Poet, or some strong Argument in a Preacher, we dare not nevertheless commend it, till we have first inform'd our selves of some learned man, if it be his own, or borrow'd from some other; untill that, I always stand upon my Guard. I came lately from reading the Histo∣ry of Tacitus quite thorough, without inter∣rupting it with any thing else; (which but seldom happens with me, it being twenty years since I have stuck to any one Book an hour together,) and I did it at the instance of a Gen∣tleman for whom France has a great esteem, as well for his own particular Worth, as up∣on the account of a constant form of Capacity and Virtue, which runs thorough a great ma∣ny Brothers of them. I do not know any Au∣thor that in a publick Narration, mixes so much Consideration of Manners, and particular In∣clinations. And I am of a quite contrary Opi∣nion to him,* 1.273 which is, that being especially to follow the Lives of the Emperours of his time, so various and extream in all sorts of forms, and so many notable Actions as their Cruelty particularly produc'd in their Subjects, he had a stronger and more attracting matter to treat of, than if he had been to discribe Battels, and universal Commotions: so that I oft find him

sterile, running over those brave Deaths, as if he fear'd to trouble us with their multitude and length. This form of Histories is by much the most useful: publick Commotions depend most upon the Conduct of Fortune, private ones upon our own. 'Tis rather a Judgment, than a Deduction of History; there are in it more Precepts than Stories: it is not a Book to read, 'tis a Book to study and learn; 'tis so full of Sentences, that right or wrong, they are there in muster: 'tis a Nursery of Ethicks and politick Discourses, for the Use and Orna∣ment of those who have any place in the Go∣vernment of the World. He always pleads by strong and solid Reasons, after a tart and sub∣tle manner, according to the affected style of that Age; and was so in love with a sound style, that where quickness and subtilty was wanting in things, he supplied them with lof∣ty and swelling words. It is not much un∣like the style of Seneca. I look upon Ta∣citus, as more sinewy, and Seneca more sharp. His Pen seems most proper for a troubled and sick Estate, as ours at present is; you would often say, that he deciphers and girds at us. They who doubt of his Fidelity, sufficiently accuse themselves of being his Enemy upon some other account. His Opinions are sound, and lean for the most part towards the Roman Affairs: And yet I am angry at him, for judg∣ing more severely of Pompey, than suited with the Opinion of those worthy men that liv'd in the same time, and treated with him; and to have reputed him equal with Marius and

Sylla, excepting that he was more close. Other Writers have not acquitted his intention in the government of Affairs, from ambition nor re∣venge; and even his Friends were afraid that his Victory would have transported him beyond the bounds of Reason, but not to so immea∣surable a degree: there is nothing in his Life that has threatned us with so express Cruelty and Tyranny. Neither ought we to proporti∣on Suspition to Evidence; and that makes me that I do not believe his Narratives to be in∣genious and true; but that he might add a lit∣tle in this very thing, that they are not always apply'd to the Conclusions of his Judgments, which he follows according to the Inclinati∣on he has taken, very often beyond the Sub∣ject he treats of, which he will not design to look upon with so much as one glance of Fa∣vour. He needs no excuse, for having approv'd the Religion of his time, according as the Laws enjoyn'd, and to have been ignorant of the true; this was his Misfortune, not his Fault. I have principally consider'd his Judgment, and am not very well satisfied throughout; as these Words in the Letter,* 1.274 that Tyberius, being old and sick, sent to the Senate. What shall I write to you, Sirs, or how should I write to you, or what should I not write to you at this time? May the Gods and the Goddesses lay a worse Punishment upon me, than I am every day tormented with, if I know. I do not see why he should so posi∣tively apply them to the sharp Remorses that tormented the Conscience of Tyberius: at least,

when I was in the same Condition, I perceiv'd no such thing. And this also seem'd to me a little mean in him, that being to say, that he had borne honourable Offices in Rome, he ex∣cuses himself, that he does not speak it out of Ostentation: this seems a little too mean for such a Soul as his; for, not to speak round∣ly of a mans self, implies some want of Courage; a rough and lofty Judgment, and that judges soundly and surely, makes use of his own Example upon all Occasions, as well as those of others, and gives Evidence as freely of himself, as of a third Person: we are to pass by these common Rules of Civility in favour of Truth, and Liberty. I dare not only speak of my self, but speak only of my self. When I write of any thing else, I miss my way, and wander from my Subject; yet am I not so indiscreetly in∣amour'd of my self, that I cannot distin∣guish and consider my self apart, as I do a Neighbour, or a Tree. 'Tis equally a Fault, not to discern how far a man's worth extends, and to say more than a man discovers in himself. We owe more love to God, than to our selves, and know him less; and yet speak of him as much as we will. If the writings of Tacitus relate any thing true of his Qualities, he was a great man, upright and bold, not of a superstitious, but a philosophi∣cal and generous Virtue. A man may think him a little too bold in his Relations; as where he tells us, that a Souldier carrying a

burthen of Wood,* 1.275 his hands were so frozen, and so stuck to the load, that they there re∣mained clos'd and dead, being sever'd from his Arms. I always in such things submit to the authority of so great Witnesses. What he also says, that Vespasian, by the favour of the God Serapis,* 1.276 cur'd a blind Woman by anointing her Eyes with his Spittle, and I know not what other Miracles: he does it by the Example and Duty of all good Historians. He records all Events of Importance; and amongst publick accidents are the common Rumours and Opi∣nions: 'tis their part to recite common beliefs, not to regulate them: That part concerns Di∣vines and Philosophers, who are the guides of Conscience. And therefore it was, that this Companion of his▪ and as great a man as him∣self,* 1.277 very wisely said; Equidem plura transcri∣bo, quam credo: nam nec affirmare sustineo, de quibus dubito, nec subducere quae accepi. Truly, I set down more things than I believe, for I can neither endure to affirm things whereof I doubt, nor smother what I have heard. And this other, Haec neque affirmare,* 1.278 neque refellere operae preti∣um est: famae rerum standum est. 'Tis neither worth the while to affirm, or to refute these things, we must stand to Report. And writing in an Age wherein the belief of Prodigies began to decline, he says, he would not nevertheless forbear to insert in his Annals, and to give a relation of things receiv'd by so many wor∣thy men, and with so great reverence of Antiquity. 'Tis very well said. Let them de∣liver

us History, more as they receive than believe it; I, who am Monarch of the mat∣ter whereof I treat, and who am accoun∣table to none, do not nevertheless always believe my self; I often hazard sallies of my own Wit, for which I very much suspect my self, and certain Quibbles, at which I shake my Ears; but I let them go at a venture, I see that others get Reputation by such things: 'tis not for me alone to judge. I present my self standing, and lying on my face, my back, my right side, and my left, and in all my natural Postures. Wits, though equal in force, are not always equal in taste and application. This is what my Memory has presented me in gross, and with incertainty enough. All Judgments in gross, are weak and imperfect.

CHAP. IX. Of Vanity.

THere is peradventure no more manifest Vanity, than to write so vainly. That which Divinity has so divinely express'd to us, ought to be carefully and continually medita∣ted by understanding men. Who does not see that I have taken a Road, in which, incessant∣ly and without labour I shall proceed, so long as there shall be Ink and Paper in the World? I can give no account of my Life by my Acti∣ons; Fortune has plac'd them too low: I must do it by my Fancies. And yet I have seen a Gentleman that only communicated his Life by

the workings of his Belly: you might see in his House a shew of a row of Basons of seven or eight days Excrements; that was all his Study, all his Discourse; all other talk stunk in his Nostrils. These here, but not so nause∣ous, are the Excrements of an old Mind, some∣times thick, sometimes thin, and always indi∣gested; and when shall I have done represen∣ting the continual agitation and mutation of my Thoughts, as they come into my Head, see∣ing that Diomedes writ six thousand Books upon the sole subject of Grammar? What then ought prating to produce, since pratling, and the first beginning to speak, stuff'd the World with such a horrible number of Volumes? So many words about words only. O Pythagoras, why didst not thou allay the Tempest! They accus'd one Galba of old for living idly; he made answer, That every one ought to give ac∣count of his actions, but not of his leisure. He was mistaken, for Justice takes Cognizance, and will have an account even of those that Glean, which is one of the lasiest Employments. But there should be some restraint of Law against foolish and impertinent Scriblers, as well as against Vagabonds and idle Persons; which, if there was, both I and a hundred others would be banish'd the Kingdom. I do not speak this in jest: Scribling seems to be a sign of a disordered and licencious Age. When did we write so much as since our Civil Wars? When the Romans so much, as when their Common-Wealth was upon the point of Ruin?

Besides that, the refining of Wits does not make People wiser in a Government: this idle Employment springs from this, that every one applies himself negligently to the duty of his vocation, and is easily debauch'd from it. The Corruption of the Age is made up upon the particular Contribution of every individual man. One contributes Treachery, others Inju∣stice, Irreligion, Tyranny, Avarice and Cruelty, according as they are of Power, the weaker sort contribute Folly, Vanity, and Idleness, of which I am one. It seems as if it were the Sea∣son for vain things when the hurtful oppress us; and that in a time when doing ill is com∣mon, to do nothing but what signifies nothing is a kind of Commendation. 'Tis my comfort, that I shall be one of the last that shall be cal∣led in question; and whilst the greater Of∣fenders are calling to account, I shall have lei∣sure to amend: for it would, methinks, be against reason to punish little Inconveniencies, whilst we are infected with the greater. As the Physician Philotimus said to one who pre∣sented him his Finger to dress, and who he perceived, both by his Complexion and his Breath, had an Ulcer in his Lungs: Friend, said he, it is not now time to concern your self about your fingers ends. And yet I saw, some years ago, a Person whose Name and Memory I have in very great Esteem, in the very height of our great Disorders, when there was neither Law nor Justice put in Execution, nor Magistrate that perform'd his Office, no more

than there is now, publish I know not what pitiful Reformations, about Cloths, Cookery, and long depending Suits in Law. These are amusements wherewith to feed a People that are ill us'd, to shew that they are not totally forgot. These others do the same, who insist upon stoutly defending the Forms of Speaking, Dances, and Games, to a People totally aban∣doned to all sort of execrable Vices. 'Tis no time to bathe and cleanse a man's self when he is seiz'd on by a violent Fever. 'Tis for the Spartiates only to fall to combing and curling themselves when they are just upon the point of running head-long into some extream dan∣ger of their Life. For my part, I have yet a worse Custom, that if my Shoe go awry, I let my Shirt and my Cloak do so too, I scorn to mend my self by halves: when I am lean, I feed upon mischief; I abandon my self through de∣spair; let my self go towards the Precipice, and, as the Saying is, Throw the Helve after the Hatchet. I am obstinate in growing worse, and think my self no more worth my own care; I am either good or ill throughout. 'Tis a favour to me, that the Desolation of this Kingdom falls out in the Desolation of my Age: I bet∣ter suffer that my ills be multiplied, than if my goods had been disturb'd. The words I utter in mishap, are words of spite. My Courage sets up its bristles instead of letting them down; and, contrary to others, I am more devout in good than in evil Fortune▪ according to the Precept of Xenophon, if not according to

his Reason, and am more ready to turn up my Eyes to Heaven to return my thanks than to crave; I am more sollicitous to improve my Health when I am well, than to restore it when I am sick. Prosperities are the same Dis∣cipline and Instruction to me, that Adversities and Persecutions are to others: as if good Fortune were a thing inconsistent with good Conscience; men never grow good, but in evil. Good Fortune is to me a singular spur to mo∣desty and moderation. An intreaty wins, a threat checks me, favour makes me bend, fear stiffens me. Amongst humane Conditions, this is common enough, to be better pleased with strange things than our own, and to love Inno∣vation and Change.* 1.279

Ipsa dies ideo nos grato perluit haustu,* 1.280 Quod permutatis hora recurrit equis.

The day it self with better draughts does pass,* 1.281 Because it changes Water every Glass.

I have my share. Those who follow the other extream of agreeing amongst themselves, to value what they have above all the rest, and to conclude no Beauty can be greater than what they see, if they are not wiser than we, are really more happy. I do not envy their Wisdom, but their good Fortune. This greedy Humour of new and unknown things helps to nourish in me the desire of Travel: but a great many more Circumstances contribute to

it. I am very willing to over-run the Govern∣ment of my House. There is, I confess, a kind of convenience in Commanding, though it were but in a Barn, and to be obey'd by ones Servants: But 'tis too uniform and languish∣ing a Pleasure, and is moreover of necessity▪ mixt with a thousand vexatious Thoughts. One while the Poverty and the Oppression of your Tenants; another, quarrels amongst Neighbours; another, the trespasses they make upon you afflicts you;

* 1.282Aut verberatae grandine vineae, Fundusque mendax, arbore nunc aquas Culpante, nunc torrentia agros Sydera, nunc hyemes iniquas.

* 1.283Or Hail-smit Vines, or Years of Death, Sometimes the too much wet in fault, Sometimes the Stars that broil the Earth, Sometimes the Winter that was naught.

and that God scarce in six Months sends a Season, wherein your Bayliff can do his busi∣ness as he should; but that if it serves the Vines, it spoils the Medows.

* 1.284Aut nimiis torret fervoribus aetherius Sol, Aut subiti perimunt imbres, gelidaeque pruinae, Flabraque ventorum violento turbine vexant.

* 1.285The Scorching Sun, with his too busie beams, Burns up the Fruits, or clouds do drown with Streams;

Or chill'd by too much Snow, they soon decay; Or Storms blow them and all our hopes away.

To which may be added, the new and neat made shoe of the man of old, that hurts your foot; and that a Stranger does not understand how much it costs you, and what you contri∣bute to maintain that shew of Order that is seen in your Family, and that peradventure you buy too dear. I came late to the Govern∣ment of a Family. They whom Nature sent into the World before me, long eas'd me of that trouble: so that I had already taken another bent more suitable to my Humour;* 1.286 yet for so much as I have seen, 'tis an Employ∣ment more troublesome than hard. Whoever is capable of any thing else will easily do that. Had I a mind to be Rich, that way would seem too long; I had serv'd my Kings, a more profitable Traffick than any other. Since I pre∣tend to nothing but the reputation of having got nothing, as I have imbezell'd nothing con∣formably to the rest of my Life, improper ei∣ther to do good or ill of any moment; and that I only desire to pass, I can do it, thanks be to God, without any great endeavour. At the worst, evermore prevent Poverty by lessen∣ing your expence: 'Tis that which I make my great concern, and doubt not but to do it before I shall be compell'd. As to the rest, I have sufficiently settled my Thoughts to live upon less than I have, and live contentedly. Non aestimatione sensus, verum victu,* 1.287 atque cul∣tu,

terminantur pecuniae modus. 'Tis not in the value of Possessions, but in our Diet and Clothing that our Riches are truly limited. My real need does not so wholly take up all I have, that Fortune has not whereon to fasten her teeth without biting to the quick. My Pre∣sence, as contemptible as it is, does me great Service in my domestick Affairs; I employ my self in them, but it goes against the hair, considering that I have this in my House, that though I burn my Candle at one end by my self, the other is not spared. Journeys do me no harm but only by their Expence, which is great, and more than I am well able to bear; being always wont to Travel with not only a necessary, but a handsom Equipage. I must make them so much shorter and fewer, where∣in I spend but the froth, and what I have reserv'd for such Uses, delaying and deferring my Motion till that be ready. I will not, that the Pleasure of going abroad spoil the Pleasure of being retir'd at home. On the contrary, I intend they shall nourish and fa∣vour one another. Fortune has assisted me in this, that since my principal Profession in this Life, was to live at ease, and rather idly than busily; she has depriv'd me of the necessity of growing Rich, to provide for the multitude of my Heirs. If there be not enough for one, of that whereof I had so plentifully enough, at his peril be it. His Imprudence will not deserve that I should wish him any more. And every one,

according to the Example of Phocion, provides sufficiently for his Children, who so provides for them, as to leave them as much as was left him. I should by no means like of Crates his way. He left his Money in the hands of a Banker, with this Condition; that if his Children were Fools, he should then give it to them; if witty, he should then distribute it to the most Fools of the People. As if Fools, for being less capable of living without Riches, were more capable of using them. So it is, that the dammage which is occasion'd by my absence, seems not to deserve, so long as I am able to support it, that I should wave the occasions of diverting my self from that trou∣blesom assistance. There is always something that goes amiss. The Affairs one while of one House and then of another will tear you to pieces. You pry into every thing too near; your Perspicacity does you hurt here as well as in other things. I steal away from occasi∣ons of vexing my self, and turn from the know∣ledge of things that go amiss; and yet I can∣not so order it, but that every hour I justle against something or other that displeases me. And the Tricks that they most conceal from me, are those that I the soonest come to know. Some there are that a man himself must help to conceal. Vain Vexations, vain sometimes, but always Vexations. The smallest and slight∣est Impediments are the most piercing: and as little Letters most tire the Eyes, so do little Affairs the most disturb us. A rout of little

ills more offend than one how great soever. By how much domestick Thorns are numerous and sharp, by so much they prick deeper, and without warning, easily surprizing us, when least we suspect them. I am no Philosopher. Evils oppress me according to their Importance, and they import as much according to the form as the Matter; and very often more. If I have therein more Perspicacity than the Vul∣gar, I have also more Patience. Finally, they weigh with me, if they do not hurt me. Life is a tender thing, and easily molested. Since my Age has made me grow more pensive and morose,* 1.288 nemo enim resistit sibi cum ceperit im∣pelli: for no man resists himself, after he once be∣gins to decline; for the most trivial cause ima∣ginable, I irritate that Humour, which after∣wards nourishes and exasperates it self of its own accord; attracting and heaping up matter upon matter whereon to feed.

* 1.289Stillicidii casus Lapidem cavat.

A falling drop at last will cave a Stone.

These continual trickling drops make Ulcers in me. Ordinary Inconveniences are never light, they are continual and irreparable; when they continually and inseparably spring from the concerns of good Husbandry. When I consider my Affairs at distance, and in gross, I find, because perhaps my Memory is none of the best, that they have gone on hitherto in

improving beyond my Reason or Expectation. Methinks my Revenue is greater than it is; their Prosperity betrays me: But when I pry more narrowly into the Business, and see how all things go,

Tum vero in curas Animum diducimus omnes.* 1.290

then my Breast Is with innumerable cares oppress'd.

I have a thousand things to desire and to fear. To give them quite over is very easie for me to do: but to look after them without trouble is very hard. 'Tis a miserable thing to be in place where every thing you see employs and concerns you. And I fancy that I more cheer∣fully enjoy the Pleasures of another man's House, and with greater and a purer relish than those of my own. Diogenes, according to my Humour, answer'd him who ask'd him what sort of Wine he lik'd the best, That of anothers, said he. My Father took a delight in build∣ing at Montaigne, where he was born, and in all the Government of domestick Affairs, I love to follow his Example and Rules; and shall engage those who are to succeed me, as much as in me lies, to do the same. Could I do bet∣ter for him, I would; and am proud that his Will is still performing and acting by me. God forbid, that in my hands I should ever suffer any image of Life, that I am able to ren∣der to so good a Father, to fail. And where∣as

I have taken in hand to finish some old Foundations of Walls, and to repair some rui∣nous Buildings, in earnest I have done it more out of respect to his Design, than my own Satisfaction; and am angry at my self, that I have not proceeded further to finish the Foundation he has left in my House; and so much the more, because I am very likely to be the last Possessor of my Race, and to give the last hand to it. For, as to my own particular Application, neither the Pleasure of Building, which they say is so bewitching, nor Hunting, nor Gardens, nor the other Pleasures of a re∣tir'd Life, can much trouble my Head. And 'tis what I am angry at my self for, as I am for all other Opinions that are incommodious to me; which I would not so much care to have vigorous and learned, as I would have them easie and convenient for Life. They are true and sound enough, if they are profitable and pleasing. Such as hear me declare my Igno∣rance in Husbandry, whisper in my Ear, that it is disdain, and that I neglect to know the In∣struments of Husbandry, its Seasons, and Order; how they order my Vines, how they graft, and to know the names and forms of Herbs and Fruits, and the dressing the Meat by which I live, with the names and prizes of the Stuffs I wear, because I have set my Heart upon some higher Knowledge; they kill me in saying so. This is Folly, and rather Brutishness than Glory; I had rather be a good Horse-man than a good Logician.

Quin tu iliquid saltem potius quorum indiget usus,* 1.291 Viminibus molique paras detexere junco.

Why rather not useful Employment find Thy long neglected Vines to prune and bind.

We amuse our thoughts about the general Con∣cern, and about universal Causes and Conducts, which will very well carry on themselves without our Care; and leave our own Busi∣ness at random, with the care of our own Per∣sons, which are nearest to us, than that of any one man whatever. Now I am indeed for the most part at home; but I would be there better pleas'd than any where else.

Sit meae sedes utinam senectae,* 1.292 Sit modus lasso Maris, & Viarum, Militicaeque

Tyber,* 1.293 which th'Argives built (O may) That be the place of my last day; May it my limit be of ease From Journeys, Warfare, and rough Seas.

I know not whether or no I shall bring it about, I could wish, that instead of some other member of his Succession, my Father had resign'd to me the passionate affection he had in his old age to his Husbandry. He was happy in that he could accomodate his De∣sires to his Fortune, and satisfie himself with what he had. Philosophy may to much pur∣pose

condemn the meanness and sterility of my Employment, if I can once come to relish it, as he did. I am of Opinion, that the most ho∣nourable Calling is to serve the Publick, and to be useful to many.* 1.294 Fructus enim ingenii, & Virtutis, omnisque praestantiae tum maximus ac∣cipitur, quum in proximum quemque confertur. We then reap the most Wit, Virtue, and all sorts of Merit, when they are conferr'd upon every one of our nearest Relations. For my part, I disclaim in it; partly out of Conscience, (for where I see the weight that lies upon such Employments, I perceive also the little means I have to contribute to them; and Pla∣to, who was a Master in all sorts of Govern∣ment, did not nevertheless forbear to abstain from them) and partly out of Cowardize. I content my self with enjoying the World without bustle; only to live an irreproachable Life, and such a one as many neither be a bur∣then to my self nor to any other. Never did any man more faintly and negligently suffer himself to be govern'd by a third Person, then I should do, had I any one to whom to intrust my self. One of my wishes at this time should be, to have a Son in Law that knew handsom∣ly how to cherish my old Age, and to rock it asleep; into whose hands I might deposite in sovereignty the management and use of all my Goods, that he might dispose of them as I do, and get by them what I get, provided that he on his part were truly acknowledging, and a Friend. But we live in a World where Loy∣alty

in ones own Children is unknown. He that has the charge of my Purse upon Travel, has it purely, and without controul; and he might also deceive me in reckoning. And, if he is not a Devil, I shall oblige him to deal faith∣fully with me by so intire a Trust. Multi fal∣lere docuerunt, dum timent falli,* 1.295 & aliis jus peccandi, suspicando fecerunt. Many have taught others to deceive by fearing to be deceived, and by suspecting them, have given them a just title to do ill. The most common security I take of my People is their ignorance; I never suspect any to be vicious till I have first found them so, and repose the most confidence in the youn∣ger sort, that I think are least spoil'd by Ex∣ample. I had rather be told at two months end, that I have spent four hundred Crowns, than to have my Ears beaten every night with three, five, and seven: And I have been this way as little robb'd as another. It is true, I am willing enough not to see it; I do in some sort in good earnest harbour a kind of per∣plex'd, uncertain knowledge of my Money: for to a certain proportion, I am content to doubt. One must leave a little room for the Infidelity or Indiscretion of a Servant, if you have enough in gross to do your business, let the over-plus of Fortunes Liberality run a little more freely at her Mercy; 'tis the Glea∣ners Portion. After all, I do not so much va∣lue the Fidelity of my People, as I contemn their Injury. What a mean and ridiculous thing it is for a man to study his Money, to

delight a man's self with handling and telling it! 'Tis by that, that Avarice makes its ap∣proaches. Of eighteen years that I have had my Estate in my own hands, I could never prevail with my self, either to read over my Deeds, or examine my principal Affairs, which ought of Necessity to pass thorough my Know∣lege and Inspection. 'Tis not a Philosophical disdain of worldly and transitory things, my taste is not purified to that degree, and I value them at as great a rate at least as they are worth; but 'tis in truth an inexcusable and childish Laziness and Negligence. What would I not rather do than read an Evidence? and sooner, than as a Slave to my own business, to tumble over a company of old musty Writings? or which is worse, those of another man, as so many do now a days to get Money? I have nothing dear but care and trouble, and endea∣vour nothing so much as to be careless and at ease. I had been much fitter, I believe, could it have been without Obligation and Servi∣tude to have liv'd upon another man's For∣tune than my own: And also I do not know, when I examine it nearer, whether according to my Humour, what I have to suffer from my Affairs and Servants, have not in it something more abject, troublesom, and tormenting, than there would be in serving a man better born than my self, that would govern me with a gentle rein,* 1.296 and a little at my own ease. Ser∣vitus Obedientia est fracti Animi, & abjecti, arbi∣trio carentis suo: Servitude is the Obedience of a

subdu'd and abject Mind, wanting its own free will. Crates did worse,* 1.297 who threw himself into the liberty of Poverty, only to rid himself of the inconveniencies and care of his House. This is what I would not do, I hate Poverty equally with grief; but I could be content to change the kind of Life I live for another that was meaner and had fewer Affairs. When absent from home, I strip my self of all these thoughts, and should be less concern'd for the ruin of a Tower, than I am, when present, at the fall of a Tile. My mind is easily compos'd at distance, but suffers as much as that of the meanest Pea∣sant when I am in place. The reins of my Bridle being wrong put on, or a Strap flapping against my Leg, will keep me out of humour a day to∣gether. I raise my Courage well enough against inconveniencies, lift up my Eyes I cannot.

Sensus, ô superi, sensus.

I am at home responsible for what ever goes amiss. Few Masters, I speak of those of com∣petent Condition, such as mine (and if there be any such they are happy) can rely so much upon another, but that the greatest part of the burthen will lye upon their own shoulders. This takes much from my Grace in entertaining Stran∣gers, so that I have peradventure detain'd some rather out of expectation of a good Dinner, than by my own behaviour; and lose much of the Pleasure I ought to reap at my own House from the visitation and assembling of my

Friends. The most ridiculous carriage of a Gentleman in his own House, is to see him bustling about the business of the House, whis∣pering one Servant, and looking an angry look at another. It ought insensibly to slide along, and to represent an ordinary Current; and I think it equally unhandsome to talk much to their Guests of their Entertainment, whether by way of bragging or excuse. I love order and cleanliness,

* 1.298& cantharus, & lanx Ostendunt mihi me.

more than abundance, and at home have an exact regard to necessity, little to outward shew. If a Footman falls to cuffs at another man's House, or that he stumble and throw a Dish before him as he is carrying it up, you only laugh and make a jest on't; you sleep whilst the Master of the House is stating a Bill of Fare with his Steward for your morrows Entertainment: I speak according as I do my self, not disesteeming nevertheless good hus∣bandry in general, or not considering how pleasant a quiet and thrifty managery, and car∣ried regularly on, is to some Natures. And not willing to annex my own errours and inconve∣niencies to the thing, nor to give Plato the lye, who looks upon it as the most pleasant Employment to every one to do his particu∣lar Affairs without wrong to another, when I Travel I have nothing to care for but my self,

and the laying out my Money; which is dis∣pos'd of by one single Precept. Too many things are required to the raking it together; in that I understand nothing; in spending it I understand a little, and how to give day to my Expences, which is indeed its principal Use. But I rely too proudly upon it, which renders it unequal and difform, and moreover immoderate, in both the one and the other usage. If it makes a shew, if it serve the turn, I indiscreetly let it run, and as indiscreetly tye up my Purse-strings if it does not shine and please. Whatever it be, whether Art or Nature, that imprint in us the condition of Living by the Example of others, it does us much more harm than good. We deprive our selves of our proper Utilities, to accomodate apparen∣ces to the common Opinion. We care not so much what our Being is, as to us, and in reality, as what it is to the publick Observa∣tion. Even the goods of the Mind, and Wis∣dom it self, seem fruitless to us, if only enjoy'd by our selves, and if it produce not it self to the view and approbation of others. There is a sort of men whose Gold runs in streams im∣perceptibly under ground; others expose it all in Plates and Branches, so that to the one a * 1.299 Lyard is worth a Crown, and to others the contrary: the World esteeming its Use and Value, according to the shew. All curious Sollicitude about Riches smells of Avarice: even the very disposing of it, with a too pun∣ctual and artificial Liberality, is not worth a

painful Sollicitude. He that will order his Ex∣pence to just so much, makes it too pinch'd and narrow. The keeping or spending, are of themselves indifferent things, and receive no colour of good or ill, but according to the ap∣plication of the Will. The other cause that tempts me out to these Journeys, is the diffe∣rence in the present manners of our State; I could easily satisfie my self with this Corrupti∣on in reference to the publick Interest,

* 1.300pejoraque saecula ferri Temporibus, quorum sceleri non invenit ipsa Nomen, & à nullo posuit natura metallo.

* 1.301'Tis the ninth Age, worse than the iron Times, Nature no metal hath to name our Crimes.

but not to my own. I am in particular too much oppress'd. For in my Neigbour-hood we are of late, by the long licence of our Ci∣vil Wars, grown old in so riotous a form of State,

Quippe, ubi fas, versum atque nefas.

* 1.302Where wrong is right, and War through all the World▪ So many shapes of Wickedness hath hurld.

that in earnest, 'tis a wonder how it can subsist▪

* 1.303Armati terram exercent, semperque recentes Convectare juvat praedas, & vivere rapto.

With Arms upon their backs they plow the Soil, And make't their business to subsist by Spoil.

In fine, I see by our Example, that the Society of men is maintain'd and held together at what price soever; in what condition soever they are plac'd, they will still close and stick toge∣ther, both moving and in heaps; as uneven Bodies, that shuffled together without order, find of themselves a means to unite and settle, often better than they could have been dis∣pos'd by Art. King Philip muster'd up a Rab∣ble of the most wicked and incorrigible Ras∣cals he could pick out, and put them all toge∣ther into a City he had caused to be built for that purpose, which bore their Name. I be∣lieve that they, even from Vices themselves, ere∣cted a Government amongst them, and a com∣modius and just Society. I see not one Acti∣on, or three, or an hundred, but Manners, in common and receiv'd Use, so cruel, especially in Inhumanity and Treachery, which are to me the worst of all Vices, that I have not the heart to think of them without horror; and almost as much admire as I detest them. The exercise of these notorious Villanies carry with them as great signs of vigour and force of Soul, as of errour and disorder. Necessi∣ty reconciles and brings men together; and this accidental Connexion afterwards forms it self into Laws: For there have been as Sa∣vage ones as any Humane Opinion could pro∣duce, which nevertheless have maintain'd their

Body with as much health and length of Life as any Plato or Aristotle could invent. And cer∣tainly, all these descriptions of Policies feign'd by Art, are found to be ridiculous and unfit to be put in practice. These great and tedious debates about the best Form of Society, and the most commodious Rules to bind us, are debates on∣ly proper for the exercise of our Wits; as in the Arts there are several Subjects, who have their being in agitation and controversie, and have no Life but there. Such an Idea of Govern∣ment might be of some value in a new World; but we take a World already made, and for∣med to certain Customs. We do not beget it, as Pyrrha,* 1.304 or Cadmus did. By what means so∣ever we may have the priviledge to rebuild and reform it anew, we can hardly writhe it from its wonted bent, but we shall break all, Solon being ask'd, whether he had establish'd the best Laws he could for the Athenians; Yes, said he, of those they have receiv'd. Varro excu∣ses himself after the same manner, that if he were to begin to write of Religion, he would say what he believ'd; but being it was alrea∣dy receiv'd, he would write more according to Usance than Nature. Not according to Opinion,* 1.305 but in truth and realty, the best and most excellent Government for every Nation is that under which it is maintain'd. Her Form and essential convenience depends upon Custom. We are apt to be displeased at the present condition; but I do nevertheless maintain, that to desire the Command of a

few in a Republick, or another sort of Go∣vernment in Monarchy than that already esta∣blish'd, is both Vice and Folly.

Ayme l'estat tel que tu le vois estre,* 1.306 S'il est Royal, ayme la royauté, S'il est de peu, ou bien communauté, Ayme l'aussi, car Dieu t'y a fait naistre.

The Government approve, be't what it will, If it be Royal, then love Monarchy; If a Republick, yet approve it still, For God himself thereto subjected thee.

So writ the good Monsieur de Pybrac,* 1.307 whom we have lately lost, a Man of so excellent a Wit, so sound Opinions, and so gentle Manners. This loss, and that at the same time we have had of Monsieur de Foix, are of so great im∣portance to the Crown, that I do not know whether there is another couple in France worthy to supply the rooms of these two Gas∣cons in Sincerity and Wisdom in the King's Council. They were both variously great men, and certainly, according to the Age, rare and great, each of them in the kind. But what De∣stiny plac'd them in these times, men so remote from and so disproportion'd to our Corrupti∣on and intestine Tumults? Nothing presses so hard upon a State as Innovation: change only gives form to Injustice and Tyranny. When any piece is out of order, it may be propt; one may prevent and take care that

the alteration and corruption natural to all things do not carry us too far from our be∣ginnings and principles: but to undertake to found so great a mass anew, and to change the Foundations of so vast a Building, is for them to do, who to make clean, efface; who will re∣form particular defects by an universal Con∣fusion, and cure Diseases by Death: Non ta•• commutandarum quam evertendarum rerum cu∣pidi.* 1.308 Not so desirous of changing, as of over∣throwing things. The World is unwilling to be cur'd; and so impatient of any thing that presses it, that it thinks of nothing but disen∣gaging it self at what price soever. We see by a thousand Examples, that it ordinarily cure•• it self to its cost: the discharge of a present Evil is no cure, if there be not a general amendment of Condition. The Chirurgion•• end is not only to eat away the dead Flesh, that is but the progress of his Cure, he has a care over and above to fill up the Wound with better and more natural Flesh, and to re∣store the Member to its due estate. Whoever only proposes to himself to remove that which offends him, falls short, for Good does not ne∣cessarily succeed Evils, another Evil may suc∣ceed, and a worse, as it hapned to Caesar's Tu∣tors, who brought the Republick to such a pass▪ that they had reason to repent the medling with it. The same has since hapned to several others, even down to our own Times. The French, my Contemporaries, know it well enough. All great mutations shake and disor∣der

a State. Whoever would aim directly at a cure, and would consider of it before he begun, would be very willing to withdraw his hands from medling in it. Pacuvius Ca∣lavius corrected the Vice of this proceeding by a notable Example. His Fellow Citizens were in mutiny against their Magistrates, he being a man of great Authority in the City of Capua, found means one day to shut up the Senators in the Palace, and calling the People together in the Market place, there told them, that the day was now come, wherein at full Liberty they might revenge themselves on the Tyrants by whom they had been so long op∣press'd; and who he had now all alone, and unarm'd at his Mercy: advising them withall, that they should call them out one by one by Lot; and should particularly determine of every one, causing whatever should be decree'd to be immediately executed; with this cauti∣on also, that they should at the same time de∣pute some honest man in the place of him that was condemn'd, to the end there might be no vacancy in the Senate. They had no sooner heard the name of one Senator, but that a great cry of universal dislike was rais'd up against him. I see, says Pacuvius, that this must out, he is a wicked Fellow, let us look out a good one in his room; immediately there was a pro∣found silence, every one being at a stand whom to choose. But one, more impudent than the rest, having nam'd his man, there arose yet a greater consent of Voices against him, an hun∣dred

Imperfections being laid to his charge, and as many just reasons being presently given why he should not stand. These contradicto∣ry Humours growing hot, it far'd worse with the second Senator and the third, there being as much disagreement in the Election of the new, as consent in the putting out of the old. In the end, growing weary of this bustle to no purpose, they began some one way, and some another, to steal out of the Assembly; every one carrying back this Resolution in his mind, that the oldest and best known Evil was ever more supportable than one that was new and untried. To see how miserably we are torn in pieces: for what have we not done?

Ehu cicatricum, & sceleris pudet, * 1.309Fratrumque: quid nos dura refugimus Atas? Quid intactum nefasti Liquimus? Vnde manus, inventus Metu Deorum continuit? Quibus Pepercit aris.

* 1.310Fie on our Broils, vile Acts, and Brothers fall, Bad Age: What Mischief do we shun at all? What Youth, his hand for fear of God contains? Or who from sacred Altars spoil refrains?

I do not presently conclude,

* 1.311ipsa si velit salus, Servare prorsus non potest hanc familiam.

Would safety't self its best care have, This Family it cannot save.

we are not however peradventure at the last gasp. The Conservation of States is a thing that in all likelihood surpasses our Understanding. A Civil Government, is, as Plato says, a mighty and puissant thing, and so hard to be dissolv'd, that it continues many times against mortal and intestine Diseases, against the Injury of unjust Laws, against Tyranny, the Corruption and Ignorance of Magistrates, and the Licence and Sedition of the People. We compare our selves in all our Fortunes to what is above us, and still look towards the better: but let us mea∣sure our selves with what is below us, there is no Condition so miserable, wherein a man may not find a thousand Examples that will admi∣nister Consolation. 'Tis our Vice that we more unwillingly look upon what is above, than willingly what is below: and Solon was us'd to say, that whoever would make an heap of all ills together, there is no one who would not rather choose to bear away the ills he has, than to come to an equal Division with all other men from that heap, and take with him from thence so much as would upon the divi∣dent fall to his particular share. Our Govern∣ment is indeed very sick, but there have been others sicker, without dying. The Gods play at Tennis with us, and bandy us every way. Enimvero Dii nos Homines quasi pilas habent.* 1.312 The Stars have fatally destin'd the state of

Rome for an Example of what they could do in this kind:* 1.313 in it is compriz'd all the forms and adventures that concern a State: all that order or disorder, good or evil Fortune can do. Who then can despair of his Condition, seeing the shocks and commotions wherewith she was tumbled and tost, and yet withstood them all? If the extent of Dominion be the Health of a State, which I by no means think it is, (and Isocrates pleases me, when he in∣structs Nicocles not to envy Princes who have large Dominions, but those who know how to preserve them when they fall into their hands) that of Rome was never so sound, as when it was most sick: The worst of her forms was the most fortunate. A man could hardly discern any Image of Government under the first Emperours,* 1.314 it was the most horrible and tumultuous Confusion that can be imagin'd. It endur'd it notwithstanding, and therein con∣tinued, not only conserving a Monarchy li∣mited within his own bounds, but so many Nations, so differing, so remote, so ill affected, so confusedly commanded, and so unjustly conquer'd.

— nec gentibus ullis * 1.315Commodat in populum, terrae pelagique potentem, Invidiam fortuna suam.

But to no foreign Arms would Fortune yet Lend her own Envy against Rome so great, That over Nations, and mighty Kings, O're Lords & Seas she stretcht her Eagles-wings.

Every thing that totters does not fall. The contexture of so great a body holds by more nails than one. It holds even by its Antiqui∣ty, like old Buildings, from which the Foun∣dations are worn away by time, without rough-cast or morter, which yet live and sup∣port themselves by their own weight;

nec jam validis radicibus haerens,* 1.316 Pondere tuta suo est.

Like an old lofty Oak,* 1.317 that heretofore Great Conquerours spoils, and sacred Trophies bore, Stands firm by his own weight.

moreover, it is not rightly to go to work, to discover only the flank and the graff, to judge of the Security of a place; it must be examin'd which way approaches can be made to it, and in what Condition the Assailant is. Few Ves∣sels sink with their own weight, and without some exteriour violence. Let us every way cast our Eyes, every thing about us totters; in all the great States both of Christendom and else where, that are known to us, if you will but look, you will there see evident threats of alteration and ruine:

Et sua sunt illis incommoda,* 1.318 parque per omnes Tempestas.

They all of them do in the mischief share, And the rude Tempest rages every where.

Astrologers may very well, as they do, warn us of great Revolutions, and eminent Mutations: their Prophecies are present and palpable, they need not go to Heaven to foretell this. There is not only Consolation to be extracted from this universal combination of ills and menaces, but moreover some hopes of the continuation of our State; forasmuch as naturally nothing falls, where all does. An universal Sickness is particular Health: Conformity is an Enemy to Dissolution. For my part, I despair not, and fancy that I discover wayes to save us.

* 1.319Deus haec fortasse benigna Reducet in sedem vice.

* 1.320God will perchance, Them to their Seat with happy change advance.

Who knows but that God will have it happen, as it does in humane Bodies, that purge and restore themselves to a better estate by long and grievous Maladies; which restores them a more intire and perfect Health than that they took from them? That which weighs the most with me, is, that in reckoning the symptoms of our ill, I see as many natural ones, and that Heaven sends us, and properly its own, as of those that our disorder and humane imprudence contribute to it. The very Stars seem to declare, that we have continued long enough, and beyond the ordinary term alrea∣dy: And this also afflicts me, that the mischief

which most threatens us, is, not an alteration in the intire and solid Mass, but its dissipation and divultion, which is the most worthy of our fears. I moreover fear, in these ravings of mine, the treachery of my Memory, lest by In∣advertence it should make me write the same thing twice. I hate to examine my self, and never review, but very unwillingly, what has once escap't my Pen. I here set down nothing new. These are common Thoughts, and ha∣ving peradventure conceiv'd them an hundred times, I am afraid I have set them down some where else already.* 1.321 Repetition is every where troublesome, though it were in Homer; but 'tis ruinous in things that have only a superficial and transitory shew. I do not love Inculcation, even in the most profitable things, as in Sene∣ca. And the usage of the Stoical School dis∣pleases me, to repeat upon every Subject at length the principles and presuppositions that serve in general, and always to realledge anew common and universal Reasons. My Memory grows infinitely worse every day than other:

Pocula Le••haeos ut si ducentia somnos,* 1.322 Arente fauce traxerim.

As if in thirst Lethe's oblivious flood I had carous'd into my blood.

I must be fain for the time to come, (for hi∣therto, thanks be to God, nothing has hapned much amiss) whereas others seek time and

opportunity to think of what they have to say, to avoid all preparations, for fear of tying my self to some obligation upon which I must be forc'd to insist. To be ty'd and bound to a thing puts me quite out, and to depend upon so weak an Instrument as my Memory. I ne∣ver read this following Story, that I am not of∣fended at it with a natural Resentment. Lyn∣cestes,* 1.323 accus'd of conspiracy against Alexander, the day that he was brought out before the Army, according to the Custom, to be heard what he could say for himself, had prepared a studied Speech, of which, haggling and stam∣mering, he pronounc'd some words; but still being more perplext, whilst struggling with his Memory, and that he was recollecting him∣self of what he had to say, the Souldiers near∣est to him charg'd their Pikes against him and kill'd him, looking upon him as convict. His astonishment and silence serv'd them for a Con∣fession. For having had so much leisure to pre∣pare himself in Prison, they concluded that it was not his Memory that fail'd him, but that his Conscience ty'd up his Tongue, and stop'd his Mouth. This was very well said. The Place, the Assistants, and the expectation asto∣nish him even at the time when it stood him upon to speak the best he could. What can a man do, when 'tis a Harangue upon which his Life depends? For my part, the very being tyed to what I am to say is enough to loose me from it. When I wholly commit and referr my self to my Memory, I lay so much stress up∣on

it, that it sinks under me, and I suppress it with the burthen. So much as I trust to it, so much do I put my self out of my own power, so much as to find it in my own Countenance; and have been sometimes very much put to't to conceal the slavery wherein I was engag'd; whereas my design is, to manifest in speaking a perfect negligence both of face and accent; and casual and unpremeditated motions, as ri∣sing from present occasions, chusing rather to say nothing to purpose, than to shew that I came prepared to speak well, a thing especial∣ly unbecoming a man of my Profession, and of great obligation to him that cannot retain much; the preparation begets a great deal more expectation than it will satisfie. A man oft strips himself to his Doublet to leap no further than he would have done in his Gown. Nihil est his, qui placere volunt,* 1.324 tam adversari∣um, quaàm expectatio. Nothing is so great an ad∣versary to those who make it their business to please, as Expectation. It is recorded of the Orator Curio, that when he propos'd the divi∣sion of his Oration into three or four parts, it often hapned, either that he forgot some one, or added one or two more. I have always avoided falling into this inconvenience, having always hated these Promises and Prescriptions, not only out of distrust of my Memory, but also because this Method relishes too much of the Artist. Simpliciora militares decent. 'Tis enough that I have promis'd to my self never to take upon me to speak in Place of respect,

for as to speaking, when a man reads his Speech, besides that it is very absurd, it is a mighty disadvantage to those who naturally could give it a Grace by action; and to rely upon the mercy of my present Invention, I will much less do it; 'tis heavy and perplext, and such as would never furnish me in sudden and important Necessities. Permit, Reader, this Essay its course also, and this sitting to finish the rest of my Picture. I add, but I correct not; first, because I conceive, that a man having once parted with his Labours to the World, he has no farther right to them; let him do better if he can in some new Undertaking, but not adulterate what he has already sold; of such dealers nothing should be bought till after they are dead: let them well consider what they do, before they produce them to the light. Who hastens them? My Book is al∣ways the same, saving that upon every new Edition, (that the Buyer may not go away quite empty) I take the liberty to add (as it were by an ill-jointed in-laying or faneering) some few insignificant things over and above. They are no other but over-weight, that do not disfigure the primitive Form of those Essays, where they, by a little ambitious subtilty, give a kind of particular Re∣pute to every one of those that follow. From thence however there will easily happen some transposition of Chronology; my stories taking place according to their patness, and not always according to their Age. Secondly,

because that for what concerns my self, I fear to lose by the change: my Understanding does not always go forward, it goes backward too. I do not much less suspect my Fancies for be∣ing the second or the third, than for being the first, or present, or past; we oft correct our selves as foolishly as we do others. I am grown older by a great many years since my first Publications, which were in the year 1580: but I very much doubt whether I am grown an inch the wiser. I now, and I anon, are two several Persons; but whether the better, now, or anon, I am not able to determine. It were a fine thing to be old, if we only tra∣vell'd towards improvement; but 'tis a drun∣ken, stumbling, reeling, ill-favour'd motion, like that of Reeds, which the Air casually waves to and fro at Pleasure.* 1.325 Antiochus had in his Youth effectually written in favour of the Academy, but in his old age he writ as much against it; would not which of these two soever I should follow, be still Antiochus? After having establish'd the incertainty, to go about to establish the certainty of humane Opinions, was it not to establish doubt, and not certainty? And to promise, that had he had yet another Age to live, he would be always upon terms of altering his Judgement, not so much for the better, as for something else? The publick Favour has given me a little more confidence then I expected; but what I most fear, is, lest I should glut the World with my Writings: I had rather of the two nettle my

Reader, than tire him; as a learned man of my time has done. Praise is always pleasing, let it come from whom, or upon what account it will; yet ought a man to understand why he is commended, that he may know how to keep up the same Reputation still. The vulgar and common esteem is seldom happy in hitting right; and I am much mistaken, if amongst the Writings of my time, the worst are not those which have most gain'd the popular ap∣plause. For my part, I confess my self oblig'd, and return my thanks to those good natur'd men, who are pleas'd to take my weak En∣deavours in good part. The Faults of the Workmanship are no where so apparent, as in a matter which of it self has no Recommenda∣tion. Blame not me, Reader, for those that slip in here, by the fancy or inadvertency of others; every hand, every Artizan contribute their own Materials, I neither concern my self with Ortography (and only care to have it after the old way) nor pointing,* 1.326 being very unexpert both in the one and the other. Where they wholly break the Sense, I am ve∣ry little concern'd, for they at least discharge me; but where they substitute a false one, as they so often do, and wrest me to their Con∣ception, they ruine me. When the Sentence nevertheless is not strong enough for my Pro∣portion, a civil Person ought to reject it as spurious, and none of mine. Whoever shall know how lasie I am, and how indulgent to my own Humour, will easily believe that I

had rather write as many more Essays, than be ty'd to revise these over again for so childish a Correction. I was saying elsewhere, that being planted in very Center of this new Religion, I am not only depriv'd of any great Familiarity with men of other kind of Manners than my own, and of other Opinions, by which they hold together, as by a tye that supersedes all other Obligations; but moreover▪ I do not live without danger, amongst men to whom all things are equally lawful, and of whom the most part cannot offend the Laws more than they have already done; from whence the extreamest degree of License does proceed. All the particular Circumstances respecting me being sum'd up together, I do not find one man of my Country, who pays so dear for the defence of our Laws both in cost and dam∣mages (as the Lawyers say) as my self. And some there are who vapour and brag of their Zeal and Constancy, that if things were justly weigh'd, do not much less than I. My House, as one that has ever been open and free to all Comers, and civil to all, (for I could never perswade my self to make a Garrison of it, that being to make it the aim of the remotest Enemy) has sufficiently merited a popular kindness, and so that it would be a hard mat∣ter justly to insult over me upon my own Dung-Hill; and I look upon it as a wonder∣ful and exemplary thing, that it yet continues a Virgin from Blood and Plunder during so long a storm, and so many neighbouring Re∣volutions

and Tumults. For to confess the truth, it had been possible enough for a man of my Complexion to have shak'd hands with any one constant and continued Form what∣ever. But the contrary Invasions and Incursi∣ons, Revolutions, and Vicissitudes of Fortune round about me, have hitherto more exaspera∣ted, then calm'd and mollified the humour of the Country, and involve me over and over again with invincible Difficulties and Dangers. I scape, 'tis true, but am troubled that it is more by chance, and something of my own Prudence, than by Justice, and am not satisfi∣ed to be out of the Protection of the Laws, and under any other safe-guard than theirs. As matters stand, I live above one half by the Favour of others, which is an untoward Ob∣ligation. I do not like to owe my safety either to the Generosity or Affection of great Per∣sons, who are content to allow me my Liber∣ty, or to the obliging manners of my Predeces∣sors, or my own; for what if I was another kind of man? If my Deportments, and the frankness of my Conversation or Relation ob∣lige my Neighbours, 'tis cruel that they should acquit themselves of that Obligation in only permitting me to live, and that they may say, we allow him the free liberty of having Divine Service read in his own private Chappel, when it is interdicted in all Churches round about, and allow him the use of his Goods, and the fruition of his Life, as one that protects our Wives and Cattel in time of need. For my House has for

many Descents shar'd in the Reputation of Ly∣curgus the Athenian,* 1.327 who was the general Feoffee and Guardian of the Purses of his fel∣low Citizens. Now I am clearly of Opinion, that a man should live by Authority, and not either by Recompence or Favour. How many gallant men have rather chosen to lose their Lives than to abandon their Duty? I hate to subject my self to any sort of Obligation, but above all, to that which binds me by the duty of Honour. I think nothing so dear as what is given me, and that because my Will lies at pawn under the title of Ingratitude, and more willingly accept of Offices that are to be sold; being of Opinion, that for the last I give nothing but Money, but for the other I give my self. The knot that binds me by the Laws of Courtesie pinches me more than that of Loyal constraint, and I am much more at ease when bound by a Scrivener than by my self. Is it not reason that my Conscience should be much more engag'd when men simply rely up∣on it? In a Bond, my Faith owes nothing, because it has nothing lent it. Let them trust to the security they have taken without me;* 1.328 I had much rather break the Wall of a Prison, and the Laws themselves, than my own Word. I am nice, even to Superstition, in keeping my Promises, and therefore upon all occasions have a care to make them uncertain and conditio∣nal. To those of no great moment, I add the ••ealousie of my own Rule to make it weight; ••t wracks and oppresses me with its own In∣terest.

Even in Actions that are wholly my own, and free, if I once say it, I conceive that I have bound my self, and that delivering it to the knowledge of another, I have posi∣tively enjoyn'd it my own performance. Me∣thinks I promise it, if I but say it, and there∣fore am not apt to say much of that kind. The Sentence that I pass upon my self is more severe than that of a Judge, who only consi∣ders the common Obligation; but my Consci∣ence looks upon it with a more severe and pe∣netrating Eye. I lag in those Duties to which I should be compell'd if I did not go.* 1.329 Hoc ip∣sum ita justum est quod recte fit, si est voluntari∣um. Even that which is well done, is only just when 'tis voluntary. If the Action has not some splendor of Liberty, it has neither Grace nor Honour.

* 1.330Quod me jus cogit, vix Voluntate impetrent.

That which the Laws have power to constrain, They from my Will would hardly e're obtain.

Where Necessity draws me, I love to let my Will take its own Course. Quia quicquid im∣perio cogitur, exigenti magis quam praestanti ac∣ceptum refertur. For whatever is compell'd by power, is more imputed to him that exacts tha•• to him that performs. I know some who follow this Rule, even to Injustice, who will sooner give than restore, sooner lend than pay, and will do them the least good to whom they

are most oblig'd. I am of a quite contrary Hu∣mour. I so much love to disengage and disob∣ligate my self, that I have sometimes look'd upon Ingratitudes, Affronts, and Indignities which I have receiv'd from those to whom ei∣ther by Nature or Accident I was bound in some duty of Friendship, as an Advantage to me, taking this occasion of their ill usage, for an acquittance and discharge of so much of my Debt. And though I still continue to pay them all the Offices of publick Reason, I not∣withstanding find my self very sparing of do∣ing that upon the account of Justice, which I did upon the score of Affection, and am a little eas'd of my former Sollicitude by my inward Will. Est prudentis sustinere ut cursum,* 1.331 sic im∣petum benevolentia. 'Tis the part of a wise man to keep a curbing hand, as upon the ordinary pace, so especially upon the precipitation of his good Will; which is in me too urging and pressing where I take; at least, for a man who love not to be strain'd at all. And this husbanding my Friendship serves me for a sort of Consolati∣on in the Imperfections of those in whom I am concern'd. I am sorry they are not such as I could wish they were, but so it is, that I also go less in my Application and Engagement towards them. I approve of a man that is the less fond of his Child for having a scald head, or being crooked; and not only when he is ill-natur'd, but also when he is unhappy and imperfect in his Limbs, (for God himself has abated that from his value and natural estima∣tion)

provided he carry himself in this cold∣ness of Affection with Moderation and exact Justice. Proximity lessens not defects with me, but rather makes them greater. After all, ac∣cording to what I understand in the Science of Benefits and Acknowledgement (which is a subtle Science, and of great use) I know no Person whatever more free and less indebted than I am at this hour. What I do owe, is sim∣ply to common and natural Obligations; as to any thing else, no man is more absolutely clear.

— nec sunt mihi nota potentum * 1.332Munera. —

The Gifts of great men are to me unknown.

Princes give me a great deal, if they take no∣thing from me; and do me good enough, if they do me no harm; that's all I ask. Oh, how am I oblig'd to Almighty God, who has been pleas'd that I should immediately receive all I have from his Bounty, and particularly reserv'd all my Obligation to himself! How instantly do I beg of his holy Compassion, that I may never owe a real thanks to any one! O happy Liberty wherein I have thus far liv'd! May it continue with me to the last. I endeavour to have no need of any one. In me omnis spes est mi∣hi. All my hope is in my self. 'Tis what every one may do in himself, but more easily they whom God has plac'd in a Condition exemp∣ted from natural and urgent Necessities. It is a

wretched and dangerous thing to depend up∣on others. Our selves, which is the most just and safest Refuge, are not sufficiently assur'd. I have nothing mine but my self, and yet the possession is in part defective and borrow'd. I fortifie my self both in Courage, which is the strongest assistant, and also in Fortune, therein wherewith to satisfie my self, though every thing else should forsake me. Eleus Hippias did not only furnish himself with Knowledge, that he might at need cheerfully retire from all other Company to enjoy the Muses, nor with the Knowledge of Philosophy only to teach his Soul to be contented with it, and bravely to subsist without outward Conveni∣encies, when Fate would have it so; he was moreover so curious, as to learn Cookery, to shave himself, to make his own Cloaths, his own Shoos and Drawers, to provide for all his Necessities in himself, and to wean himself from the Assistance of others. A man more freely and cheerfully enjoys borrowed Con∣veniencies, when it is not an Enjoyment forc'd and constrain'd by need, and when a man has in his own Will and Fortune wherewithall to live without them. I know my self very well. But 'tis hard to imagine any so pure Liberali∣ty of any one towards me, any so frank and free Hospitality, that would not appear to me unhandsom, tyrannical, and tainted with re∣proach, if Necessity had reduc'd me to it. As giving is an ambitious and authoritative qua∣lity, so is accepting a quality of Submission.

Witness the injurious and quarrelsom refusal that Bajazet made of the Presents that Themir sent him;* 1.333 and those that were offer'd in the be∣half of the Emperour Solyman to the Empe∣rour of Calicut, were so much disdain'd by him, that he not only rudely rejected them, saying, that neither he, nor any of his Predecessors had never been wont to take, and that it was their Office to give; but moreover caus'd the Ambassadors sent for that purpose to be put into a Dungeon. When Thetis, says Aristotle, flatters Jupiter; when the Lacedaemonians flatter the Athenians, they never put them in mind of the good they have receiv'd from them, which is always odious, but of the be∣nefits they have receiv'd from them:* 1.334 such as I see so frequently employ every one in their Affairs, and thrust themselves into so much obligation, would never do it, did they but relish the sweetness of a pure Liberty as I do, and did they but weigh, as wise men should, the burthen of Obligation. 'Tis sometimes per∣adventure fully return'd, but 'tis never dis∣solved. 'Tis a miserable slavery to a man that loves to be at full liberty upon all accounts. Such as know me, both better and meaner men than my self, are able to say whether they have ever known a man less importuning, sollici∣ting, entreating, and pressing upon others than I; but if I am, and be a degree beyond all modern Example, 'tis no great wonder so many parts of my Manners contributing to it. A lit∣tle natural Pride, an impatience of being re∣fus'd,

the contradiction of my Desires and De∣signs, and my most beloved Qualities, Idleness and Freedom; by all these together I have conceiv'd a mortal hatred to being oblig'd to any other, or by any other than my self. I prodigally lay out all I can wrap and wring of my own, rather than employ the bounty of another in any light or important occasion or necessity whatever. My Friends do strangely importune me, when they advise me to call in a third Person, and I think it costs me little less to disengage him who is indebted to me by making use of him, than to engage my self to him that owes me nothing: These Conditions being remov'd, provided they require of me nothing of any great trouble or care, (for I have renounc'd all business that requires great diligence) I am easily intreated, and ready to do every one the best service I can: But yet I have, I confess, more avoided receiving than sought occasions of giving, and also, according to Aristotle, it is more easie. My Fortune has allow'd me but little to do others good with∣all, and the little it can afford is put into a pretty close hand. Had I been born a great Per∣son, I should have been ambitious to have made my self belov'd, not to make my self fear'd or admired; Shall I more plainly express it? I should more have endeavour'd to please than to do good. Cyrus very wisely, and by the Mouth of a great Captain, and better Philoso∣pher, prefers his Bounty and Benefits much be∣fore his Valour and Warlike Conquests. And

the elder Scipio, wherever he would raise his Esteem, sets a higher value upon his Affability and Humanity, than his Prowess and Victories, and has always this glorious Saying in his Mouth, That he has given his Enemies as much occasion to love him as his Friends. I will then say, that if a man must of necessity owe some∣thing, it ought to be by a more legitimate ti∣tle than that whereof I am speaking, to which the necessity of this miserable War compells me; and not in so great a debt as that of my total Preservation both of Life and Fortune that over-whelms me. I have a thousand times gone to bed at my own House with an appre∣hension that I should be betray'd and murther'd that very night, compounding with Fortune, that it might be without terror, and with quick dispatch; and after my Pater noster have cry'd out,

* 1.335Impius haec tam culta novalia miles habebit.

Shall impious Souldiers have these new plow'd Grounds.

What remedy? 'tis the Place of my Birth, and most of my Ancestors have here fix'd their Affection and Name; we inure our selves to whatever we are accustom'd. And in so mise∣rable a Condition as ours is, Custom is a great bounty of Nature, which benums our Senses to the sufferance of many evils. A Civil War has this with it worse than other Wars have, to make us stand Centinels in our own Houses.

Quam miserum, porta vitam muroque tueri,* 1.336 Vixque suae tutum viribus esse domus!

To ones own Walls and Gates, 'tis wretched sure To trust one's Life, yet scarce to be secure.

'Tis a grievous extremity for a man to be ju∣stled in his own House. The Countrey where I live is always the first in Arms, and the last that lays them down, and where there is never an absolute Peace.

Tum quoque cum pax est,* 1.337 trepidant formidine belli. quoties pacem fortuna lacessit; Hac iter est bellis, melius fortuna dedisset Orbe sub Eoo sedem, gelidaque sub Areto, Errantesque domos.

Oh ill built City, too too near the Gaul!* 1.338 Oh, sadly scituated Place! when all The World have Peace, we are the spoil of War, And first that are invaded; happier farr Might we have liv'd in farthest North or East, Or wandring Tents of Scythia, than possest The edge of Italy.

I sometimes extract the means to fortifie my self against these Considerations, from careless∣ness and sloth, which also in some sort bring us on to resolution. It oft befals me to ima∣gine and expect mortal dangers with a kind of delight. I stupidly plunge my self head-long into Death, without considering or taking a

view of it, as into a deep and obscure Abyss, which swallows me up at one leap, and in∣volves me in an instant in a profound sleep without any sense of pain. And in these short and violent Deaths, the Consequence that I fore-see administers more Consolation to me than the Effect does Fear. They say, that as Life is not better for being long, so Death is better for being not long. I do not so much evade being dead, as I enter into confidence with dying. I wrap and shrowd my self in the storm that is to blind and carry me away with the Fury of a sudden and insensible At∣tack. Moreover, what if it should fall out, that as some Gardiners say, that Roses and Vio∣lets spring more odoriferent near unto Garlick and Onions, by reason that the last suck and imbibe all the ill odour of the Earth; that these deprav'd Natures should also attract all the malignity of my Air and Climate, and so render it so much better and purer by their vicinity, that I should not lose all? That cannot be, but there may be something in this, that Bounty and Goodness is more beautiful and attractive when it is rare, and that Con∣trariety and Diversity fortifies and shuts up well-doing within it self, and inflames it by the jealousie of opposition and glory. Thieves and Robbers (of their special favour) have no particular aim at me, no more have I to them. I should have my hands too full. Like Consciences are lodg'd under several sorts of Robes, like Cruelty, Disloyalty, and Rapine;

and so much the worse as they are more mis∣chievous to others, and more secure and con∣ceal'd in themselves, under the colour of the Laws. I less hate an open profess'd injury than one that is clandestine and treacherous; an Enemy in Arms than an Enemy in a Gown. Our Fever has seiz'd upon a Body that is not much the worse for't. There was Fire before, and now 'tis broke out into a Flame. The noise is greater, the evil much the same. I casually answer such as ask me the reason of my Tra∣vels, that I know very well what I fly from, but not what I seek. If they tell me that I may be as unhealthy amongst Strangers, and that their Manners are no purer than ours; I first reply, that that is hard to be believ'd.

Tam multae scelerum facies.* 1.339

Secondly, that it is always gain to change an ill Condition for one that is uncertain, and that the ills of others ought not to concern us so much as those of our own. I will not here omit, that I never mutiny so much against France, that I am not perfectly friends with Paris;* 1.340 that City has ever had my Heart from my infancy, and it has fallen out, as of excel∣lent things, that the more beautiful Cities I have seen since, the more the beauty of this does still win upon my affection. I love it by it self, and more in its own native Being, than in all the Pomp of foreign and acquir'd Em∣bellishments; I love it tenderly, even to its warts

and blemishes. I am not a French-man but by this great City, great in People, great in the felicity of her Scituation; but above all, great and incomparable in variety and diversity of Commodities, the Glory of France, and one of the most noble Ornaments of the World. God of his Goodness compose our Differences, and deliver us from this Civil War; I find her sufficiently defended from all other Violen∣ces. I give her caution, that of all sorts of People, those will be the worst that shall set it in Division; I have no fears of her, but of her self; and certainly I have as much fear for her as for any other City in the Kingdom. Whilst she shall continue, I shall never want a retreat, where I may live or dye, sufficient to make me amends for parting with any other home or retreat whatever. Not because Socra∣tes has said so, but because it is in truth my own Humour, and peradventure not without some excess. I look upon all men as my Compatri∣ots, and embrace a Polander with as sincere an Affection as a French-man, preferring the universal and common tye to all National tyes whatever. I am not much taken with the sweetness of a natural Air: Acquaintance wholly new, and wholly my own, appear to me full as good as the other common and acci∣dental ones with our Neighbours: Friendships that are purely of our own acquiring, ordi∣narily carry it above those to which the Com∣munication of the Clime or of Blood oblige us. Nature has plac'd us in the World free

and unbound, we imprison our selves in cer∣tain streights, like the Kings of Persia,* 1.341 who oblige themselves to drink no other Water but that of the River Choaspes, and foolishly quit claim to their right of usage in all other Streams; and as to what concern'd themselves, dried up all the other Rivers of the World. What Socrates did towards his end,* 1.342 to look upon a Sentence of Banishment as worse than a Sentence of Death against him; I shall, I think, never be either so decrepid, or so strict∣ly habituated to my own Country, to be of that Opinion. These Celestial Lives have Ima∣ges enow, which I embrace more by Esteem, than Affection; and they have some also so elevated and extraordinary, that I cannot em∣brace them so much as by Esteem, for as much as I cannot conceive them. This Humour was very tender in a man that thought the whole World his City. It is true, that he disdain'd Travel, and had hardly ever set his Foot out of the Attick Territories. What though he complain'd of the Money his Friends offer'd to save his Life, and that he refus'd to come out of Prison by the Mediation of others; not to disobey the Laws in a time when they were otherwise so corrupted? These Examples are of the first kind for me; of the second there are others that I could find out in the same Person. Many of these rare Examples surpass the force of my Action; but some of them do moreover surpass the force of my Judgement. These Reasons set aside, Travel is in my Opi∣nion

a very improving thing; the Soul is there continually imploy'd in observing new and unknown things: and I do not know, as I have often said, a better School wherein to model Life, than by incessantly exposing to it the diversity of so many other lives, fancies, and usances; and to make it relish so perpetu∣al a variety of the form of humane Nature. The Body is therein neither idle nor over∣wrought, and that moderate Agitation puts in breath. I can keep on Horse-back, as much tormented with the Stone as I am, without alighting or being weary, eight or ten hours together.

* 1.343Vires ultra sortemque senectae.

Beyond the strength and common use of Age.

No Season is Enemy to me, but the parching heat of a scorching Sun;* 1.344 for the Vmbrellas made use of in Italy ever since the time of the ancient Romans, more burthen a mans Arm than they relieve his Head. I would fain know what pain it was to the Persians so long ago, and in the Infancy of their Luxury, to make such Ventiducts, and plant such Shades about their abodes, as Xenophon reports they did. I love Rain, and to dabble in the Dirt, as well as tame Ducks do; the change of Air and Climate never concern me; every Sky is alike. I am only troubled with inward Alterations, which I bred within my self, and those are not so frequent in Travel. I am hard to be got

out, but being once upon the Road, I hold out as well as the best. I take as much pains in little, as in great Attempts; and am as solli∣citous to equip my self for a short Journey, if but to visit a Neighbour, as for the longest Voyage.* 1.345 I have learnt to travel after the Spa∣nish fashion, and to make but one Stage of a great many Miles; and in excessive heats, I al∣ways travel by Night, from Sun-set, to Sun-rising. The other method of baiting by the way, in haste and hurry to gobble up a Din∣ner, is, especially in short days, very inconve∣nient. My Horses perform the better, for ne∣ver any Horse tir'd under me that was able to hold out the first days Journey. I water them at every Brook I meet, and have only a care they have so much way to go before I come to my Inn, as will warm the Water in their Bellies. My unwillingness to rise in a Morn∣ing, gives my Servants leisure to dine at their ease before they go out. For my own part, I never eat too late: my Appetite comes to me in eating, and not else, and am never hungry but at Table. Some of my Friends blame me for continuing this travelling Humour, being mar∣ried and old. But they are out in't, for it is the best time to leave a man's House, when a man has put it into a way of continuing with∣out us; and settled such an Oeconomy, as cor∣responds to it for mere Government. 'Tis much greater imprudence to abandon it to a less faithful House-keeper, and who will be less sollicitous to provide for the Family, and

look after your Affairs. The most useful and honourable Knowledge and Employment for the Mother of a Family, is, the Science of good Housewifry, I see some that are covetous in∣deed, but very few that are saving. 'Tis the supream quality of a Woman, and that a man ought to seek after before any other, as the only dowry that must ruine or preserve our Houses. Let men say what they will, accord∣ing to the Experience I have learn't, I require in married Women the Oeconomical Virtue above all other Virtues; I put my Wife to't, as a Concern of her own, leaving her by my absence the whole Government of my Affairs. I see, and am asham'd to see, in several Families I know, Monsieur, about Dinner time, come home all dirt, and in great disorder, from trotting about amongst his Husbandmen and Labourers, when Madam is perhaps scarce out of her Bed, and afterwards is pouncing and tricking up her∣self forsooth in her Closet. This is for Queens to do, and that's a question too. 'Tis ridicu∣lous, and unjust, that the Laziness of our Wives should be maintain'd with our Sweat and Labour. No man, forasmuch as in me lies, shall have a more free and liberal, a more quiet and free fruition of his Estate than I. If the Husband bring Matter, Nature her self will that the Wife find the Form.* 1.346 As to the Duties of Conjugal Friendship, that some think to be violated by the absence, I am quite of another Opinion; it is on the contrary an Intelligence that easily cools by a too frequent and assi∣duous

Practice. Every strange Woman ap∣pears graceful, and every one finds by Expe∣rience, that being continually together is not so pleasing, as to part for a time, and meet again. These interruptions inflame me anew towards my Wife, and render my own House more pleasant to me. Absence, and change of Place, renew my Appetite both to the one and the other. I know that the Arms of Friend∣ship are long enough to reach from the one end of the World to the other, and especially this, where there is a continual communication of Offices that rouse the Obligation and Re∣membrance. The Stoicks say, that there is so great Connexion and Relation amongst wise men, that he who dines in France, nourishes his Companion in Aegypt; and that whoever does but hold out his Finger, in what part of the World soever, all the wise Men upon the habitable Earth feel themselves assisted by it. Fruition and Possession principally appertain to the Imagination. It more fervently and constantly embraces what it is in quest of, than what we hold in our Arms. Let a man but consider and cast up his daily Thoughts, and he will find, that he is most absent from his Friend when in his Company. His Assi∣stance relieves your Attention, and gives your Thoughts Liberty to absent themselves at eve∣ry turn, and upon every Occasion. When I am out at Rome, I keep and govern my House, and the Conveniencies I there left, see my Walls rise, my Trees shoot, and my Revenue

increase, or decrease, very near as well as when I am there.

* 1.347Ante oculos errat domus, errat forma locorum.

My House, and forms of places constantly Present themselves unto my Fancy's Eye.

If we enjoy nothing but what we touch, we may say farewell to the Money in our Closets, and to our Sons when they are gone a hunting. We will have them nearer to us. Is the Gar∣den, or half a days Journey from home so far? What is ten Leagues, far, or near? If near, what is eleven, twelve, or thirteen? and so by degrees. In earnest, if there be a Woman who can tell her Husband what step ends the near, and what step begins the remote, I would advise her to stop between.

* 1.348excludat jurgia finis: Vtor permisso, caudaeque pilos ut equinae Paulatim vello: & demo unum, demo etiam unum Dum cadat clusus ratione ruentis acervi.

the whole House tail we may * 1.349Thus hair by hair, at length pluck quite away.

And let them in Gods Name call Philosophy to their Assistance; in whose teeth it may be cast, that seeing it neither discerns the one nor the other end of the joynt, betwixt the too much and the little, the long and the short, the light and the heavy, the near and the remote, that seeing it discovers neither the beginning nor

the end, it must needs judge very uncertainly of the middle.* 1.350 Rerum natura nullam nobis de∣dit cognitionem finium. Are they not still Wives and Friends to the dead, who are not only at the end of this, but in the other World? We imbrace not only the absent, but those who have been, and those who are not yet. We do not promise in Marriage to be continually twisted and linkt together, like some little Ani∣mals that we see, or like those of Karenty,* 1.351 that are bewitch'd, tyed together like Dogs. And a Wife ought not to be so greedily enamour'd of her Husbands Fore-parts, that she cannot endure to see him turn his Back, if Occasion be. But may not this saying of that excellent Painter of Womens Humours be here intro∣duc'd, to shew the Reason of their Complaints?

Vxor, si cesses, aut te amare cogitat,* 1.352 Aut tete amari, aut potare, aut animo obsequi, Et tibi bene esse soli, cum sibi sit male.

Thy Wife, if thou stay'st long abroad, is mov'd, Thinking thou either lov'st, or art belov'd; Drinking, or something else, thy self to please, And that thou'rt well, whilst she is ill at ease.

Or may it not be, that of it self Opposition and Contradiction entertains and nourishes them, and that they sufficiently accommodate themselves, provided they incommodate you? In true Friendship, wherein I pretend to be as perfect as another, I more give my self to

my Friend, than I endeavour to attract him to me. I am not only better pleas'd in doing him service, than if he conferr'd a Benefit upon me; but moreover, had rather he should do him∣self good than me, and he most obliges me when he does so.* 1.353 And if absence be either more pleasant or convenient for him, 'tis also more acceptable to me than his Presence; nei∣ther is it properly absence, when we can write to one another. I have sometimes made good use of our separation from one another. We better fill'd, and further extended the possessi∣on of Life in being parted. He liv'd, rejoyc'd, and saw for me, and I for him, as plainly as if he had himself been there; one part remain'd idle, and we confounded one another when we were together. The distance of Place ren∣dred the Conjunction of our Wills more rich. This insatiable desire of personal Presence, a lit∣tle implies weakness in the fruition of Souls. As to what concerns Age, which is alledg'd against me, 'tis quite contrary; 'tis for Youth to sub∣ject it self to common Opinions, and to curb it self to please others. It has wherewithall to please both the People and its self; we have but too much ado to please our selves alone. As natural Conveniencies fail, let us supply them with those that are artificial. 'Tis Injustice to excuse Youth for pursuing its Pleasures, and to forbid old Men to seek them. When young, I conceal'd my wanton Passions with Prudence; now I am old, I chace away Melancholy by Debauch. And thus do the Platonick Laws

forbid Travel till fourty or fifty years old, that mens Travels might be more useful and instructive in so mature an Age. I should soo∣ner subscribe to this second Article of the Laws, who forbids it after threescore; but at such an Age you will never return from so long a Journey. What care I for that? I neither un∣dertake it to return nor to finish it. My bu∣siness is only to keep my self in motion whilst motion pleases me, and only walk for the walks sake. They who hunt after a Benefice, or a Hare, run not; they only run that run at Base, and to exercise their running. My de∣sign is divisible throughout, it is not grounded upon any great hopes, every day concludes my expectation. And the Journey of my Life is carried on after the same manner; and yet I have seen Places enow a great way off, when I could have wish'd to have been stay'd. And why not, if Chrysippus, Cleanthes, Diogenes, Zeno, Antipater, so many Sages of the sourest Sect, cheerfully abandoned their Countrey, without occasion of complaint, and only for the enjoyment of another Air? In earnest, that which most displeases me in all my Voyages, is, that I cannot resolve to settle my Abode where I should best like, but that I must always propose to my self to return, to accommodate my self to the common Humour. If I fear'd to dye in any other Place than that of my Birth; if I thought I should dye more uneasily re∣mote from my own Family, I should hardly go out of France; I should not without fear

step out of my Parish. I feel Death always twitch∣ing me by the Throat, or by the Back, but I am of another temper, 'tis in all Places alike to me; yet, might I have my choice, I think I should rather chuse to dye on Horse back than in a Bed, out of my own House, and far enough from my own People. There is more Heart-breaking than Consolation in taking leave of ones Friends; I am willing to omit that civility, for that of all the Offices of Friendship is the only one that is unpleasant, and could with all my heart dispence with that great and eternal Farewell. If there be any convenience in so many standers by, it brings an hundred inconveniencies along with it. I have seen many miserably dying, sur∣rounded with all his Train: 'tis a crowd that choaks them. 'Tis against Duty, and a testimony of little kindness, and little care, to permit you to dye in Repose, one torments your Eyes, another afflicts your Ears, another tires your faultring Tongue; you have neither Sense nor Member that is not violated by them: Your Heart is wounded with compassion to hear the mourning of those that are your real Friends, and perhaps with spite, to hear the counterfeit condolings of those who only pretend and make a shew of being so. Who ever has been delicate that way, when well, is much more so in his weakness. In such a necessity a tender Hand is required, and accomodated to his Sentiments, to scratch him just in the place where he itches, or not to meddle with him at all. If we stand in need of a * 1.354 Know∣ing Woman to bring us into the World, we

have much more need of a wiser Man to help us out of it. Such a one, and a Friend to boot, a man ought to purchace at any rate for such an Occasion. I am not yet arriv'd to such a pitch of Bravery as to disdain all assistance in that fatal Hour, nor pretend to be able so to fortifie my self in my own Strength, that nothing can assist or offend me; I have not brought my self to that: I endeavour to hide my self, and to escape from this Passage, not by Fear but by Art. I do not intend in this act of dying to muster up and make a shew of my constancy. For whom should I do it? All the right and title I have to reputation will then cease. I content my self with a death in∣volv'd within it self, quiet, solitary, and all my own, suitable to my retir'd and private life. Quite contrary to the Roman Superstition, where a man was look'd upon as unhappy, who dyed without speaking, and that had not his nearest Relations to close his eyes.* 1.355 I have enough to do to comfort my self, without giving my self the trouble of consolating o∣thers; thoughts enough in my head, not to need that Circumstances should possess me with new; and matter enough to entertain my self withall without borrowing. This cri∣tical minute is out of the part of Society, 'tis the act of one single Person. Let us live, and be merry amongst our Friends, let us go dye, and be sullen amongst Stran∣ers. A man may find those for his money that will shift his pillow, and rub his feet,

and will trouble him no more than he would have them, who will present him with an indif∣ferent Countenance, and suffer him to govern himself, and to complain according to his own Method. I wean my self daily by my Rea∣son from this childish and inhumane Humour, of desiring by our sufferings to move the Com∣passion and Mourning of our Friends. We stretch our Inconveniencies beyond their just extent when we extract tears from them, and the Constancy which we commend in every one in supporting his own adverse Fortune, we accuse and reproach in our Friends when the case is our own; we are not satisfied that they should be sensible of our Condition only, un∣less they be moreover afflicted. A man should publish and communicate his joy, but as much as he can, conceal and smother his grief: He that makes himself lamented without Reason, is a man not to be lamented when there shall be real Cause. To be always complaining, is the way never to be lamented; by making himself always in so pitiful a Taking, he is never commiserated by any. He that makes himself dead when he is alive, is subject to be thought likely to live when he is dying; I have seen some, who have taken it ill when they have been told that they look'd well, and that their Pulse was temperate, contain their smiles, be∣cause they betray'd a Recovery, and be an∣gry at their Health because it was not to be lamented: And, which is a great deal more, they were not Women neither. I describe my

Infirmities, but such as they really are at most, and avoid all Expressions of ill Prognostick and compos'd Exclamations. If not Mirth, at least,* 1.356 a temperate Countenance in the standers by, is proper in the Presence of a wise sick Man. He does not quarrel with Health, for seeing himself in a contrary Condition. He is pleas'd to contemplate it found and intire in others, and at least to enjoy it for company. He does not, for feeling himself melt away, abandon all thoughts of Life, nor avoid to discourse of ordinary and indifferent things. I will study sickness whilst I am well; when it has seiz'd me it will make its impression real enough, without the help of my Imagination. We prepare our selves before hand for the Journey we undertake and resolve upon, we leave the appointment of the Hour when to take Horse to the Company, and in their fa∣vour deferr it. I find this unexpected advan∣tage in the publication of my Manners, that it in some sort serves me for a Rule. I have sometimes some consideration of not betraying or falsifying the History of my Life. This publick Declaration obliges me to keep my way, and not to give the lye to the Image I have drawn of my Qualities, commonly less de∣form'd and interdicted than the malignity and infirmity of the Judgements of this Age would have them. The uniformity and simplicity of my Manners produce a Face of easie interpre∣tation, but because the fashion is a little new, and out of Use, it gives great opportunity

to slander. Yet so it is, that whoever will go about justly do condemn me, I do think I so sufficiently assist his malice in my known and avow'd Imperfections, that he may that way satisfie his ill nature, without fighting with the Wind. If I my self, to prevent his accusation and discovery, confess enough to frustrate his malice, as he conceives, 'tis but reason that he make use of his right of amplification, and to wire-draw my Vices as far as he can; offence has a right beyond Justice; and let him make the roots of those errours I have laid open to him shoot up into Trees and Branches: let him make his Use, not only of those I am really in∣fected with, but also of those that only threa∣ten me; Injurious Vices both in quality and number. Let him cudgel me that way. I should willingly follow the example of the Philoso∣pher Dion. Antigonus being about to reproach him with the meanness of his Birth, he pre∣sently cut him short, with this Declaration▪ I am, said he, the Son of a Slave, a Butcher, and stigmatiz'd, and of a Whore, my Father married in the lowest of his Fortune, who both of them were whipt for Offences they had com∣mitted. An Orator bought me, when a Child, and finding me a pretty and hopeful Boy, bred me up, and when he died left me all his Estate, which I have transported into this City of A∣thens, and here settled my self to the study of Philosophy. Let the Historians never trouble themselves with inquiring after me. I shall tell them what I am; and a free and generous

confession enervates Reproach, and disarms Slander. So it is, that, one thing with ano∣ther, I fancy men as oft commend, as under∣value me beyond reason. As methinks also, from my infancy, in rank and degree of Ho∣nour, they have given me a place rather above than below my right. I should find my self more at ease in a Country where these De∣grees were either regulated or not regarded. Amongst men, when the difference about the precedency either of walking or sitting ex∣ceeds three replies, 'tis reputed uncivil. I ne∣ver stick at giving, or taking place out of Rule, to avoid the trouble of Ceremony. And never any man had a mind to go before me, but I permitted him to do it. Besides the pro∣fit I make of writing of my self, I have also hop'd for this other advantage, that if it should fall out that my humour should please, or jump with those of some honest man, be∣fore I dye, he would then desire, and seek to be acquainted with me, and to come up to me. I have given him a great deal of space; for all that he could have in many years ac∣quir'd by a long familiarity, he has seen in three dayes in this memorial, and more sure∣ly and exactly set down. A pleasant fancy: many things that I would not confess to any one in particular, I deliver to the Publick; and send my best Friends to a Booksellers shop, there to inform themselves concerning my most secret Thoughts.

* 1.357excutienda damus praecordia.

My Intrails I lay open to mens view.

Had I by good Direction known where to have sought any one proper for my Conver∣sation, I should certainly have gone a great way to have found him out: For the sweet∣ness of suitable and agreeable Company, can∣not, in my Opinion, be bought too dear. Oh! What a thing is a true Friend! How true is that old saying,* 1.358 That the Vse of a Friend is more pleasing and necessary than the Element•• of Water and Fire! To return to my Subject, there is then no great harm in dying private∣ly, and far from home. And we also conceive our selves oblig'd to retire for natural Actions less unseemely, and less terrible than this. But moreover, such as are reduc'd to spin out a long languishing Life, ought not perhaps to wish to trouble a great Family with their con∣tinual Miseries. Therefore the Indians, in a certain Province, thought it just to knock a man o'th' head, when reduc'd to such a Ne∣cessity: and in another of their Provinces, they all forsook him, to shift for himself as well as he could. To whom do they not at least become tedious and insupportable? You teach your best Friends to be cruel of force; hardning Women and Children by long usance, neither to lament, nor to regard your suffer∣ings. The Groans forc'd from me by the pain of the Stone, were grown so familiar to my

People, that no body took any more notice of them. And though we should extract some Pleasure from their Conversation, (which does not always happen, by reason of the Disparity of Conditions, which easily begets Contempt or Envy toward any one whatever) is it not too much to be troublesom all the days of a mans Life? The more I should see them force themselves out of real Affection to be service∣able to me, the more I should be sorry for their pains. We have liberty to lean, but not to lay our whole weight upon others, so as to prop our selves by their ruine. Like him who caus'd little Childrens Throats to be cut, to make use of their Blood for the cure of a certain Disease he had: Or that other, who was continually supply'd with tender young Girls, to keep his old Limbs warm in the Night, and to mix the sweetness of theirs with his sour and stinking Breath. Decrepitude is a solitary Quality. I am sociable even to excess; and I think it reasonable that I should now withdraw my Miseries from the sight of the World, and keep them to my self. Let me shrink and draw up my self like a Tortoise. I learn to see men without hanging upon them, I should endanger them in so steep a passage. 'Tis now time to turn my back to company. But in these Travels you may be surpris'd with Sickness in some wretched place where nothing can be had to relieve you: I always carry most things necessary about me; and be∣sides, we cannot evade Fortune, if she once re∣solve

to attack us. I need nothing extraordi∣nary when I am sick. I will not be beholding to my Bolus to do that for me which Nature cannot. At the very beginning of my Fevers, and Sicknesses that cast me down, whilst in∣tire, and but a little disorder in my Health, I reconcile my self to Almighty-God by the last Christian Offices: and find my self by so doing less oppress'd, and more easie, and have got methinks so much the better of my Disease. And I have yet less need of a Scrivener or Counsellor, than of a Physician. What I have not settled of my Affairs when I was in Health, let no one expect I should do it when I am sick. What I will do for the service of Death, is always done. I durst not so much as one day deferr it. And if nothing be done, 'tis as much as to say, either that doubt hinder'd my choice, (and sometimes 'tis well chosen not to choose) or that I was positively resolv'd not to do any thing at all. I write my Book to few men, and to few years. Had it been matter of duration, I should have put it into a better Language; for, according to the con∣tinual variation that ours has been continual∣ly subject to, who can expect that the present force should be in use fifty years hence? It slips every day thorough our Fingers, and since I was born is alter'd above one half. We say that it is now perfect; and every Age says the same of the Language then spoken: But I shall hardly trust to that, so long as it varies and changes as it does. 'Tis for good and use∣full

Writings to nail and rivet it to them, and its Reputation will go according to the For∣tune of our State. For which Reason, I am not afraid to insert in it several private Articles, which will spend their use amongst the men that are now living, and that concern the par∣ticular knowledge of some who will see fur∣ther into them than every common Reader. I will not after all, as I oft hear dead men spoken of, that men should say of me, He judg'd, and liv'd so and so; he would have done this or that, could he have spoke when he was dying, he would have said so or so, and have given this thing or t'other; I knew him better than any. Now, as much as Decency permits, I here dis∣cover my Inclinations and Affections; but I do it more willingly and freely by word of Mouth, to any one who desires to be inform'd. So it is, that in these Memoires, if any one ob∣serve, he will find, that I have either told, or design'd to tell all. What I cannot express, I point out with my Finger.

Verum animo satis haec vestigia parva sagaci* 1.359 Sunt, per quae possis cognoscere caetera tute:

But by these foot-steps a sagacious mind May easily all other Matters find.

I leave nothing to be desir'd, or to be ghess'd at concerning me. If People must be talk∣ing of me, I would have it to be justly,

and truly. I would come again with all my Heart from the other World, to give any one the lye that should report me other than I was, though he did it to honour me. I perceive that People represent, even living men, quite another thing than what they really are: and had I not stoutly defended a Friend, whom I have lost, they would have torn him into a thousand several pieces. To conclude the account of my frail Humours, I do confess, that in my Travel, I seldom come to my Inn, but that it comes into my Mind to consider whether I could there be sick, and dying at my ease; I would be lodg'd in some convenient part of the House, remote from all noise, ill scents, and smoke. I endeavour to flat∣ter Death by these frivolous Circumstances; or to say better, to discharge my self from all other Incumbrances, that I may have nothing to do, nor be troubled with any thing but it, which will lye heavy enough upon me, with∣out the assistance of any other thing to mend the Load. I would have my Death share in the ease and conveniencies of my Life; 'tis a great part of it, and of the greatest importance, and hope it will not for the future contradict what is past. Death has some forms that are more easie than others, and receives divers Qualities, according to every ones Fancy. Amongst the natural ones, those that proceed from Weakness and Stupidity I think the most favourable: amongst those that are violent, I can worse endure to think of a precipice

than the fall of a House, that will crush me flat in a moment; and a wound with a Sword, than a Harquebuss shot: and should rather have chosen to poyson my self with Socrates, then stab my self with Cato. And though it be the same thing, yet my Imagination makes as great a difference as betwixt Death and Life, betwixt throwing my self into a burning Fur∣nace, and plunging into the Channel of a Ri∣ver: So idely does our Fear more concern it self in the Means than the Effect. It is but an instant, 'tis true, but withall, an instant of such weight, that I would willingly give a great many days of my Life to pass it over after my own fashion. Since every ones Imagination renders it more or less terrible, and since every one has some choice amongst the several forms of dying, let us try a little further, to find some one that is wholly clear from all Offence. Might not one render it moreover Voluptu∣ous, as they did who died with Anthony and Cleopatra? I set aside the brave and exemplary efforts produc'd by Philosophy and Religion. But amongst men of little mark, such as Petro∣nius, and a Tigillinus at Rome, there have been found men condemn'd to dispatch themselves, who have as it were rock'd Death asleep with the delicacy of their Preparations; They have made it slip and steal away, even in the height of their accustomed Diversions. Amongst Whores and good Fellows, not a word of Consolation, no mention of making a Will, no ambitious affectation of Constancy, no talk

of their future Condition: amongst Sports, Feastings, Wit, and Mirth, common and in∣different Discourses, Musick, and amorous Verses. Were it not possible for us to imitate this Resolution after a more decent manner? Since there are Deaths that are fit for fools, and fit for the wise, let us find out such as are fit for those who are betwixt both. My Ima∣gination suggests to me one that is easie, and since we must dye,* 1.360 to be desir'd. The Roman Tyrants thought they did in a manner give a Criminal Life, when they gave him the choice of his Death. But was not Theophrastus, that so delicate, so modest, and so wise a Philoso∣pher, compell'd by Reason, when he durst re∣peat this Verse-translated by Cicero?

* 1.361Vitam regit Fortuna, non Sapientia.

Fortune, not Wisdom, humane Life doth sway.

Fortune is assisting to the Facility of the bar∣gain of my Life; having plac'd it in such a con∣dition, that for the future it can be no advan∣tage nor hindrance to those that are concern'd in me. 'Tis a Condition that I would have accepted at any time of my Age: but in this occasion of trussing up my Baggage, I am par∣ticularly pleas'd, that in dying I shall neither do them good nor harm; she has so order'd it by a cunning Compensation, that they who may pretend to any considerable advantage by my death, will at the same time sustain a ma∣terial Inconvenience. Death sometimes is more

grievous to us, in that it is grievous to others, and interests us in their interest as much as in our own, and sometimes more. In this Con∣veniency of lodging that I desire, I mix nothing of Pomp and Splendor, I hate it rather; but a certain plain neatness, which is oftest found in places where there is less of Art, and that Na∣ture has adorn'd with some grace that is all her own. Non ampliter, sed munditer convivium.* 1.362 Plus salis quam sumptus. And besides, 'tis for those whose Affairs compell them to travel in the depth of Winter thorough the Grisons Country, to be surpris'd upon the way with great Inconveniencies. I, who for the most part travel for my pleasure, do not order my Affairs so ill. If the way be foul on my right-hand, I turn on my left, if I find my self unfit to ride, I stay where I am: and so doing, in earnest, I see nothing that is not as pleasant and commo∣dious as my own House. 'Tis true, that I al∣ways find superfluity superfluous, and observe a kind of trouble even in abundance it self. Have I left any thing behind me unseen, I go back to see it, 'tis still my way; I trace no certain line, either strait or crooked. Do I not find in the place to which I go what was reported to me? as it oft falls out, that the Judgments of others do not jump with mine, and that I have found those Reports for the most part false; I never complain of losing my Labour: I have at least inform'd my self that what was told me was not true. I have a Constituti∣on of Body as free, and a Palat as indifferent

as any man living: the diversity of Fashions of several Nations no further concern me than the mere pleasure of Variety. Every Usance has its Reason. Let the Plate and Dishes be Pewter, Wood, or Earth, my Meat be boyl'd or roasted, let them give me Butter or Oyl, of Nuts, or Olives, hot, or cold, 'tis all one to me; and so indifferent, that growing old, I accuse this generous Faculty, and have need that de∣licacy and choice should correct the Indiscreti∣on of my Appetite, and sometimes relieve my Stomach. When I have been abroad out of France, and that People out of Courtesie have ask'd me if I would be serv'd after the French manner, I laugh'd at the question, and always frequented Tables the most fill'd with Stran∣gers. I am asham'd to see my Country-men besotted with this foolish Humour of quarel∣ling with forms contrary to their own. They seem to be out of their Element, when out of their own Village. Wherever they go, they keep strictly to their own fashions, and abo∣minate those of Strangers. Do we meet with a Compatriot in Hungary? Oh the happy ad∣venture! They are thence-forward insepara∣ble; they cling together, and their whole Discourse is to condemn the barbarous man∣ners they see there. And why barbarous, but because they are not French? And those have made the best use of their Travels, who have observ'd most to speak against; for most of them go for no other end, but to come again. They proceed in their Travel with great Gra∣vity

and Circumspection, with a silent and incommunicable Prudence, preserving them∣selves from the Contagion of an unknown Air. What I am saying of them, puts me in mind of something like it. I have sometimes obsev'd in some of our young Courtiers, they will not mix with any but men of their own sort; and look upon us as men of another World, with disdain and pity. Put them up∣on any Discourse but the Intrigues of the Court, and they are utterly at a loss; as very Owls and Novices to us, as we are to them. And 'tis truly said, that a well bred man is of a compound Education. I, on the contrary, travel very much sated with our own fashions; not to look for Gascons in Sicily, I have left them at home: I rather seek for Greeks than Persians, they are the men I indeavour to be acquainted with, and the men I study, 'tis there that I bestow and imploy my self: and which is more, I fancy that I have met but with few Customs that are not at least as good as our own. I have not, I confess, travell'd very far; scarce out of the sight of the fanes of my own House. As to the rest, most of the accidental Company a man falls into upon the Road, be∣get him more Trouble than Pleasure; I wave them as much as I civilly can, especially now that Age seems in some sort to priviledge and sequester me from the common forms. You suffer for others, or others suffer for you; both of them Inconveniencies of importance enough, but the latter appears to me the greater. 'Tis

a rare Fortune,* 1.363 but of inestimable solace, to have a worthy man, one of a sound Judgment, and of Manners conformable to your own, who takes a delight to bear you Company. I have been at an infinite loss for that upon my Tra∣vels. But such a Companion should be chose and acquir'd from your first setting out. There can be no Pleasure to me without Communi∣cation: there is not so much as a spritely thought comes into my mind, that it does not grieve me to have produc'd alone, and that I have no one to communicate it unto.* 1.364 Si cum hac exceptione detur Sapientia, ut illam inclu∣sam teneam, nec enuntiem, rejiciam. If Wisdom were conferr'd with this caution, that I must keep it to my self, and not communicate it to others, I would none of it. This other has strain'd it one note higher. Si contigerit ea vita sapienti, ut omnium rerum affluentibus copiis,* 1.365 quamvis om∣nia, quae cognitione digna sunt, summo otio secum ipse consideret, & contempletur, tamen si solitudo tanta sit, ut hominem videre non possit, excedat è vita. If such a condition of Life should happen to a wise man, that in the greatest plenty of all Conveniencies he might at the most undisturb'd leisure, consider, and contemplate all things worth the knowing, yet if his Solitude must be such that he must not see a man, he had much better dye. Architas was of my Opinion, when he said, that it would be unpleasant even in Hea∣ven it self, to wander in those great and Di∣vine Coelestial Bodies without a Companion. But yet 'tis much better to be alone, than in

foolish and troublesom Company. Aristippus lov'd to live as a Stranger in all places.

Mea si fata meis paterentur ducere vitam Auspiciis.* 1.366

But if the Fates would so propitious be To let me live at my own Liberty,

I should chuse to pass away the greatest part of my Life on Horse-back.

— visere gestiens,* 1.367 Qua parte debacchentur ignes, Quae nebulae pluviique rores.

Visit the stores of Snow and Hail,* 1.368 And where excessive Heats prevail.

Have you not more easie diversions at home? what do you there want? Is not your house scituated in a sweet and healthful Air, suf∣ficiently furnish'd, and more than sufficiently large? The Royal Majesty has more than once been entertain'd there with all his train. Has not your Family left more below it in good Government, than it has above it is E∣minence? Is there any novel, extraordinary, and indigestible thought that afflicts you?

Quae te nunc coquat, & vexet sub pectore fixa.* 1.369

That now lies broiling in thy troubled brest, And ne're will suffer thee to be at rest.

Where do you think to live without distur∣bance?* 1.370 Nunquam simpliciter fortuna indulget. You see then, it is only you that trouble your self, and you shall every where follow your self, and every where complain; for there is no satisfaction here below, but either for brutish or Divine Souls. He, who in so just an occa∣sion has no contentment, where will he think to find it? How many millions of men termi∣nate their wishes in such a condition as yours? Do but reform your self; for that is wholly in your own power: whereas you have no other right but Patience towards Fortune. Nulla placida quies est,* 1.371 nisi quam ratio compo∣suit. I see the reason of this Advertisement, and see it perfectly well; but he might soon∣er have done, and have spoken more perti∣nently, in bidding me in one word, Be wise. This resolution is beyond Wisdome, 'tis her work and product. Thus the Physician lies preaching to a poor languishing Patient to be cheerful, but he would advise him a little more discreetly in bidding him be well. For my part, I am but a man of the common sort. 'Tis a wholesome Precept, certain, and easie to be understood, Be content with what you have, that is to say, with reason: and yet to follow this advice, is no more in the power of the wise men of the World than in me: 'tis a com∣mon saying, but of a terrible extent: what does it not comprehend? All things fall un∣der discretion and qualification. I know very well, that to take it by the letter, this plea∣sure

of travelling is a testimony of uneasiness and irresolution, and also those two are our governing and predominating qualities. Yes, I do confess they are: I see nothing, not so much as in a dream, and in a wish, whereon I could set up my rest: Variety only, and the possession of diversity, can satisfie me, if any thing can. In travelling, it pleases me that I may stay where I like without inconvenience, and that I have wherewithall commodiously to divert my self. I love a private life, be∣cause 'tis my own choice that I love it, not by any dissenting from, or dislike of the publick way of living, which peradventure is as much according to my Complexion. I serve my Prince more cheerfully, because it is by the free election of my own Judgment and Rea∣son, without any particular obligation; and that I am not compell'd so to do, for being rejected or dislik'd by the other Party; and so of all the rest. I hate the morsels that ne∣cessity carves me. I should think that the great∣est convenience upon which I were only to depend, had me by the throat:

Alter remus aquas, alter mihi radat arenas.* 1.372

Let me in water plunge one Oar, And with the other rake the shoar.

One cord will never hold me fast enough. You will say there is vanity in this way of li∣ving. But where not? Both these fine Pre∣cepts

are vanity, and all Wisdom is vanity. Dominus novit cogitationes sapientium, quoniam vanae sunt. These exquisite subtilties are only fit for Sermons. They are Discourses that will send us all saddled into the other World. Life, as a material and corporal motion, an action imperfect and irregular of its own proper Essence, I make it my business to serve it according to it self.

* 1.373Quisque suos patimur manes.

We all are punish'd for our proper crimes.

Sic est faciendum,* 1.374 ut contra naturam univer∣sam nihil contendamus: ea tamen conservata, propriam sequantur. We must so order it, as by no means to contend against Vniversal Na∣ture; but yet, that Rule being observ'd, to fol∣low our own. To what end are these elevated points of Philosophy, upon which no humane Being can rely? and those Rules that exceed both our Use and Force? I see that we have oft Images of Life set before us, which nei∣ther the Proposer nor those that hear him have any manner of hope, nor which is more, of inclination to follow. Of the same sheet of Paper whereon the Judge has but just writ a Sentence against an Adulterer, he steals a piece whereon to write a Love-Letter to his Companions Wife. She whom you have but just now entertain'd in your Embraces, will presently, even in your own hearing,

aloud, more inveigh against the same fault in her Companion than a Porcia. And such there are, who will condemn men to death for Crimes that they do not themselves repute so much as faults. I have in my youth seen a man in good Habit, with one hand present the Peo∣ple with Verses that excell'd both in Wit and Debauchery, and with the other, at the same time, the most seditious Theological Refor∣mation that the World has been treated with∣all these many years. Men proceed at this rate; We let the Laws and Precepts follow their way; our selves keep another course; not only by debauchery of Manners, but oft∣times by Judgment and contrary Opinion. Do but hear a Philosophical Lecture; the In∣vention, Eloquence, and Pertinency immedi∣ately work upon your Mind, and move you; There is nothing that either flatters or repre∣hends your Conscience; 'tis not to it that they address. Is not this true? This made Aristo say, that neither a Bath nor a Lecture did signifie any thing, unless they scowr'd and made men clean. One may stop at the outward skin; but 'tis after the marrow is pickt out: as after ha∣ving quafft off the Wine out of a fine Bowl, we consider the graving and workmanship. In all the Courts of ancient Philosophy this is to be found, that the same Philosophy Reader does there publish the Rule of Temperance, and at the same time Lectures of Love and Wantonness. And Xenophon, even in the bosom of Clinias, writ against the Aristippick virtue. 'Tis not that

there is any miraculous conversion in it that makes them thus waving, but because Solon represents sometimes in his own Person, and sometimes in that of a Legislator. One while he speaks for the crowd, and another for him∣self; taking the free and natural Rules for his own share, assuring himself of a firm and esta∣blish'd health and vigour.

* 1.375Curentur dubii medicis majoribus aegri.

* 1.376Great Doctors must do desp'rate Patients good.

Antisthenes allow'd a Sage to love,* 1.377 and do whatever he saw opportune, without regard to the Laws; forasmuch as he was better ad∣vis'd than they, and had a greater knowledge of Virtue. His Disciple Diogenes said, that men to Perturbations were to oppose Reason, to Fortune Confidence, and to the Laws Na∣ture. For tender Stomachs, forc'd and artifi∣cial Re••ipes must be prescrib'd: good and strong Stomachs serve themselves simply with the prescriptions of their own natural appe∣tite. After this manner do our Physicians pro∣ceed, who eat Melons and drink Icét wines, whilst they confine their Patients to Syrups and Panades. I know not, said the Curtezan Lais, what they talk of Books, Wisdom, and Philosophy, but those men knock as oft at my door as any other,. At the same rate that our licence carries us beyond what is lawful and allow'd, men have often, beyond the

universal Reason, strech'd and tenter'd the Precepts and Rules of Life.

Nemo satis credit tantum delinquere quantum* 1.378 Permittas. —

None sins just so far as he hath in charge,* 1.379 But at his pleasure will his Vice inlarge.

It were to be wish'd, that there were more proportion betwixt the Command and the O∣bedience, and the Mark seems to be unjust to which one cannot attain. There is no so good man, that so squares all his Thoughts and Acti∣ons to the Laws, that he is not faulty enough to deserve hanging ten times in his Life. Nay, and such a one too, as it were great Pity to make away, and very unjust to punish.

— Olle,* 1.380 quid ad te De cute quid faciat ille vel illa sua?

Olus, what is't to thee What with themselves does he or she?

And such a one there may be, as has no way offended the Laws, who nevertheless would not deserve the Character of a virtuous man, and that Philosophy would justly condemn to be whip'd; so unequal and perplex'd is this re∣lation. We are so far from being good men, according to the Laws of God, that we cannot be so according to our own. Humane wisdom

could never yet arrive at the Duty as it had it self prescrib'd; and could it arrive there, it would still prescribe it self others beyond it, to which it would ever aspire and pretend; so great an enemy to consistency is our hu∣mane condition. Man enjoyns himself to be ne∣cessarily in fault. He is not very discreet to cut out his own Duty by the measure of any other Being than his own. To whom does he prescribe that which he does not expect any one should perform? Is he unjust in not doing what it is impossible for him to do? The Laws which condemn us not to be able, condemn us for not being able. At the worst hand, this difform liberty of presenting them∣selves two several ways, the Actions after one manner, and the Discourses after another way, be allow'd to those who only speak of things; but it cannot be allow'd to those who speak themselves, as I do; I must march my pen as I do my feet. The common Life ought to have communication with the other Lives. The Virtue of Cato was vigorous beyond the Rea∣son of the Age he liv'd in, and for a man whose province it was to make one in the go∣verning others, doubtless dedicated to the Publick Service; and yet it might be call'd a Justice, if not unjust, at least vain, and out of season. Even my own manners, which have not above an inch of singularity in them above those that are current amongst us, render me nevertheless a little odd and unsociable to the Age I live in. I know not whether it be with∣out

reason that I am disgusted with the World I frequent; but I know very well that it would be without reason, should I complain of its be∣ing disgusted with me, seeing I am so with it. The Virtue that is assign'd to the Affairs of the World, is a Virtue of many wavings, corners, and elbows, to joyn and adapt it self to humane Frailty, mixt, and artificial; not strait, clean, constant, nor purely innocent. Our Annals to this very day reproach one of our Kings for suffering himself simply to be carried away by the conscientious Perswasions of his Confessor. Affairs of State have bolder Precepts.

exeat Aula* 1.381 Qui vult esse pius.

Let him who will be good from Court retire.

I have formerly tried to employ in the man∣agement of publick Affairs, Opinions and Rules of living, as rude, new, unpolish'd, or unpol∣luted, as either born with me, or brought away from my education, and wherewith I serve my own turn, if not so commodiously, at least as securely, in my own particular Concerns: but I have found a scolastick and novice Vir∣tue, foolish and dangerous. He that goes into a Crowd, must now go one way, and then another, keep his Elbows close, retire, or advance, and quit the direct way, according to what he encounters; and must live not so much according to his own Method, as that

of others; not according to what he proposes to himself, but according to what is propos'd to him: according to the Time, according to Men, according to Occasions. Plato says, that whoever escapes from the Worlds handling with clean Breeches, escapes by Miracle: and says withall, that when he appoints his Philo∣sopher the head of a Government, he does not mean a corrupt one like that of Athens, and much less such a one as this of ours, wherein Wisdom it self would be to seek. And a good Herb transplanted into a soil very contrary to its own nature, much sooner conforms it self to the Soil, than it reforms the Soil to it. I find, that if I were wholly to apply my self to such Employments, it would require a great deal of change and new modelling in me be∣fore I could be any way fit for it. And though I could so far prevail upon my self, (and why might I not with Time and Diligence work such a feat) I would not do it. By the little tryal I have had of publick Employment, it has been so much disgust to me; I feel by times some Temptations toward Ambition rising in my Soul, but I obstinately oppose them.

* 1.382At tu, Catulle, obstinatus obdura.

But oh Catullus, be thou obstinate.

I am seldom call'd to it, and as seldom offer my self uncall'd. Liberty and Laziness, the Qualities most predominant in me, are Quali∣ties

diametrically contrary to that trade. We cannot distinguish the Faculties of men. They have divisions and limits hard and delicate to choose. To conclude from the discreet con∣duct of a private Life, a Capacity for the man∣nagement of publick Affairs, is to conclude it ill. A man may govern himself well, that can∣not govern others so, and compose Essayes, that could not work Effects. Such a one may be, who can order a Siege well, that would ill marshall a Battel, and that can speak well in private, who would ill harangue a People, or a Prince. Nay, 'tis peradventure rather a Testimony in him who can do the one, that he cannot do the other, than otherwise. I find that elevated Souls are not much more proper for low things, than mean Souls are to•• high ones. Could it be imagin'd that Socrates should have administer'd occasion of laughter at the expence of his own Reputation to the Athenians, for having never been able to sum up the Votes of his Tribe, to deliver it to the Counsel. Doubtless the Veneration I have for the Perfections of this great man, deserves that Fortune should furnish, for the excuse of my principal imperfections, so magnifick an Ex∣ample. Our sufficiency is cut out into small parcels, mine has no latitude, and is also very contemptible in number. Saturninus, to those who had conferr'd upon him the command in chief, Companions, said he, you have lost a good Captain, to make him an ill General. Whoever boasts, in so sick a time as this, to employ a true

and sincere Virtue in the Worlds Service, ei∣ther knows it not, Opinions growing corrupt with manners, (and in truth to hear them de∣scribe it, to glorifie themselves in their Deport∣ments, and to lay down their Rules; instead of painting Virtue, they paint pure Vice and Injustice, and so represent them false in the education of Princes) or if he does know it, boasts unjustly, and let him say what he will, does a thousand things of which his own Con∣science must necessarily accuse him. I should willingly take Seneca's Word, of the Experi∣ence he made upon the like Occasion, provided he would deal clearly and sincerely with me. The most honourable mark of Goodness in such a Necessity, is freely to confess both his own Fault, and those of others; with the Pow∣er of his Virtue to stop his Inclination toward Evil, unwillingly to follow this propension, to hope better, to desire better. I perceive that in these unhappy Divisions wherein we are miserably involv'd in France, every one does his best to defend, and by Argument to make good his Cause; but even the very best with Dissimulation and Disguise. He that would write roundly of the true state of the Quarrel, would write rascally and viciously. What is the most just Party, other than a Mem∣ber of a decay'd and worm-eaten Body? But of such a Body, the Member that is least af∣fected, is said to be sound, and with good rea∣son, forasmuch as our Qualities have no title but in Comparison. The Civil Innocency is

measur'd according to Times and Places. I lov'd to read in Xenophon this Commendation of Agesilaus; being intreated by a neighb'ring Prince with whom he had formerly had War, to permit him to pass thorough his Country; he granted his request, giving him free passage thorough Peloponnesus, and not only did not imprison, or poyson him, being at his mercy, but courteously receiv'd him according to the Obligation of his Promise, without doing him any the least Injury or Offence. To such Hu∣mours as these, this was an Act of no great lustre; elsewhere, and in another Age, the Frankness and Magnanimity of such an Action will be in high esteem.* 1.383 Our Crack-rope Ca∣pets would have laugh'd at it, so little does the Spartan Innocence resemble that of France. We are not without virtuous men, but 'tis ac∣cording to what we repute so. Whoever has his Manners establish'd in Regularity above the Standard of the Age he lives in, let him either wrest, or blunt his Rules; or, which I would rather advise him to, let him retire, and not meddle with us at all. What will he get by't?

Egregium sanctumque virum si cerno,* 1.384 bimembri Hoc monstrum Puero, & miranti jam sub arato Piscibus inventis & foetae comparo Mulae.

To me an honest man more monster seems* 1.385 Than Nature shakes all when a Woman teems

A Child with two Heads; than Mules foaling found, Or wondrous Fishes plow'd out from the Ground.

A man may regret better times, but cannot flye from the present; we may wish for other Magistrates, but we must notwithstanding obey those we have; and peradventure 'tis more laudable to obey the bad than the good. So long as the Image of the antient and receiv'd Laws of this Monarchy shall shine in any cor∣ner of the Kingdom, there will I be. If they unfortunately happen to thwart and contradict one another, so as to produce two Factions of doubtful and difficult choice, I will willing∣ly choose to withdraw and escape the Tem∣pest. In the mean time Nature, or the hazards of War may lend me a helping hand. Betwixt Caesar and Pompey, I should soon and frankly have declar'd my self; but amongst the three Robbers that came after, a man must have been necessitated either to hide himself, or have gone along with the current of the time; which I think a man may lawfully do, when Reason no longer Rules.

Quo diversus abis?

Whither dost thou wandring run?

This medly is a little from my Subject. I go out of my way, but 'tis rather upon the ac∣count

of licence than oversight. My Fancies follow one another, but sometimes at a great distance; and look towards one another, but 'tis with an oblique glance. I have read a Di∣alogue of Plato, of such a motley and fantastick Composition, as had the beginning of Love, and all the rest to the end of Rhetorick. They stick not at these Variations, and have a mar∣vellous Grace in letting themselves be carried away at the pleasure of the Wind; or at least to seem as if they were. The titles of my Chapters do not always comprehend the whole matter, they oft but denote it by some mark only, as these others, Andrea, Eunuchus; or these, Sylla, Cicero, Torquetus. I love a Poetick March, by leaps and skips; 'tis an Art, as Pla∣to says, light, nimble, and a little maddish. There are pieces in Plutarch, where he forgets his Theam, where the Proposition of his Argu∣ment is only found by incidence; and stufft throughout with foreign matter. Do but ob∣serve his footing in the Daemon of Socrates. Good God, how beautiful then, are his variati∣ons and digressions, and then most of all, when they seem to be fortuitous, and introduc'd for want of heed. 'Tis the indiligent Reader that loses my Subject, and not I; there will always be found some words or other in a corner that are to be purpose, though it lye very close. I ramble indiscreetly and tumultuously, my Stile and my Wit wander at the same rate; a little Folly is tolerable in him that will not be guil∣ty of too much, says both the Precepts; and

more the Examples of our Masters. A thou∣sand Poets flag and languish after a Prosaick manner, but the best old Prose (and I strow them here up and down indifferently for Verses) shines throughout, and has the lustre▪ vigour, and boldness of Poetry, not without some Air of its Fury; and certainly Prose ought to have the Preheminence in speaking▪ The Poet, says Plato, when set upon the Muses Tripod, pours out with Fury whatever comes into his Mouth, like the Pipe of a Fountain, without considering and pausing upon what he says; and things come from him of various colours, of a contrary substance, and with an uninterrupted torrent: And all the old The∣ologie, as the wise inform us, and the first Phi∣losophy, are Poesie. 'Tis the original Language of the Gods; I mean, that my matter distin∣guishes it self; it sufficiently shews where it changes, where it concludes, when it begins, and where it rejoyns, without interlacing it with words of connexion, introduc'd for the relief of weak or negligent Ears, and with∣out explaining my self. Who is he that had not rather not be read at all, than after a drow∣sie or cursory manner?* 1.386 Nihil est tam utile, quod in transitu prosit. Nothing can be so profitable, as to be so when negligently read. If to take a Book in hand, were to read it, to look upon it were to consider it, and to run it slightly over, were to make it a man's own; I were then to blame to make my self so ignorant, as I say I am. Seeing I cannot fix the Attention of

my Reader by the weight of what I write, Manco male, I am much mistaken, if I should chance to do it by my Intricacies; nay, he will afterward repent that he ever perplext himself about it: 'tis very true, but he will yet be there perplext. And besides, there are some Humours in which Intelligence produces disdain; who will think better of me for not understanding what I say, and will conclude the depth by the obscurity of my Sense; which, to speak sincerely, I mortally hate, and would avoid it if I could. Aristotle boasts some where in his Writings, that he affected it; vicious Af∣fectation. The frequent Breaks, and short Pa∣ragraphs in Chapters that I made my Method in the beginning of my Book, I have since thought, broke and dissolv'd the Attention before it was rais'd, as making it disdain to set∣tle it self to so little; and upon that account have made the rest longer, such as require Pro∣positions, and assign'd leisure. In such an Im∣ployment, to whom you will not give an hour, you give nothing; and do nothing for him, for whom you only do whilst you are doing something else. To which may be ad∣ded, that I have peradventure some parti∣cular Obligation to speak only by halves, to speak confusedly and discordantly. I am therefore angry at this kind of perplexing Rea∣son; these extravagant Projects that trouble a man's Life, and those Opinions so fine and subtle, that though they be true, I think them too dear bought. On the contrary, I make

it my business to bring Vanity it self in repute, and Folly too, if it bring me any Pleasure; and permit me to follow my own natural In∣clinations, without carrying too strict a hand upon them. I have seen elsewhere Palaces in rubbish, and Statues both of Gods and Men defac'd, and yet there are men still; all this is true, and yet for all that, I cannot so often re∣view the ruines of that so great, and so puis∣sant City,* 1.387 that I do not admire and reverence it. The care of the dead is recommended to us; besides, I have been bred up from my In∣fancy with these People: I had knowledge of the Affairs of Rome long before I had any of those of my own House. I knew the Capitol, and its platform, before I knew the Louvre; and the River Tiber, before I knew the River Seine. The Qualities and Fortunes of Lucullus, Metellus, and Scipio, have ever run more in my Head than those of any of my own Coun∣try. They are all dead, and so is my Father as absolutely dead as they; and is remov'd as far from me and Life in eighteen years, as they are in sixteen hundred; whose Memory ne∣vertheless, Friendship and Society, I do not cease to hug and embrace with a very perfect and lively Union.* 1.388 Nay, of my own Inclina∣tion, I render my self more officious to the dead; they no longer help themselves, and therefore methinks the more require my assi∣stance: 'tis there that Gratitude appears in its full lustre. Benefits are not so generously plac'd where there is Retrogradation and Re∣flection.

Arcesilaus going to visit Ctesibius who was sick, and finding him in a very poor Con∣dition, privately convey'd some Money under his Pillow; and, by concealing it from him, acquitted him moreover from the acknow∣ledgement due to such a Benefit. Such as have merited from me my Friendship and Grati∣tude, have never lost them by being no more; I have better and more carefully paid them, when gone, and ignorant of what I did. I speak most kindly and affectionately of my Friends when they can no more know it. I have had a hundred quarrels in defending Pompey, and upon the account of Brutus. This Acquaintance does yet continue betwixt us. We have no other hold even of present things but by Fancy. Finding my self of no use to this Age, I throw my self back upon that other; and am so inamour'd of the free, just, and flourshing Estate of that ancient Rome (for I neither love it in its birth, nor old age,) that I interest my self in it to a degree of Passion; and therefore cannot so oft review the scitua∣tion of their Streets and Houses, and Ruins as profound as the Antipodes, that it does not al∣ways put me into a Dump. Is it by Nature, or through error of Fancy, that the sight of Pla∣ces which we know have been frequented and inhabited by Persons whose Memories are re∣commended in Story, does in some sort work more upon us than to hear a recital of their Acts, or to read their Writings?* 1.389 Tanta vis ad∣monitionis inest in locis. Et id quidem in hac

urbe infinitum: quacumque enim ingredimur: in aliquam historiam vestigium ponimus. So great a power of Admonition is in Places; and truly in this City so infinite, that which way soever we go we tread upon some History. It plea∣ses me to consider their Face, Port, and Vest∣ments. I ruminate those great Names betwixt my Teeth, and make them ring in my own Ears. Ego illos veneror, & tantis nominibus semper assurgo.* 1.390 I reverence them, and rise up in honour of so great Names. Of things that are in some part great and admirable, I admire even the common Parts. I could wish to see them talk, walk, and sup together. It were Ingrati∣tude to contemn the Relicks and Images of so many worthy and valiant Men as I have seen live and dye, and who by their Example give us so many good Instructions, knew we how to follow them. And moreover, this very Rome that we now see deserves to be belov'd; so long, and by so many Titles a confederate to our Crown; the only common and univer∣sal City.* 1.391 The Sovereign Magistrate that Com∣mands there, is equally acknowledg'd and obey'd elsewhere: 'tis the Metropolitan City of all the Christian Nations. The Spanish and French are there at home. To be a Prince of this Estate, there needs no more but to be a Prince of Christendom. There is no Place up∣on Earth, that Heaven has embrac'd with such an influence and constancy of favour; her ve∣ry Ruins are glorious.

Laudandis preciosior ruinis.

More glorious by her Ruins made.* 1.392

She yet in her very Ruins retains the marks and image of Empire. Vt palam sit uno in loco gaudentis opus esse Naturae. That it may be ma∣nifest that Nature is in one place enamour'd of her own Work. Some one would blame, and be an∣gry at himself, to perceive himself tickled with so vain a Pleasure. Our Humours are never too vain that are pleasant. Let them be what they would that did constantly content an honest man of common Understanding, I could not have the heart to accuse him. I am very much oblig'd to Fortune, in that to this very hour she has offer'd me no out-rage beyond what I was well able to bear. Is it not happily her Cu∣stom to let those live in quiet by whom she is not importun'd?

Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,* 1.393 A Diis plura feret, nil cupientium, Nudus castra peto, multa petentibus, Desunt multa.

The more a man himself denies,* 1.394 The more indulgent Heav'n bestows; Let them that will side with the I's, I'm with the Party of the No's.

If she continue her favour, she will dismiss me very well satisfied.

nihil supra * 1.395Deos lacesso

Nor for more Do I the Gods implore.

But beware the shock. There are a thousand that perish in the Port. I easily comfort my self for what shall here happen when I shall be gone. Present things trouble me enough;

Fortunae caetera mando.

To Fortune I do leave the rest.

Besides, I have not that strong Obligation, that they say ties men to the future, by the Is∣sue that succeeds to their Name and Honour; and peradventure ought less to covet them, if they are to be so much desir'd. I am but too much ty'd to the World, and to this Life of my self: I am content to be in Fortune's pow∣er by Circumstances properly necessary to my Being, without otherwise inlarging her Juris∣diction over me, and have never thought, that to be without Children was a defect that ought to render Life less compleat, or less contented. A steril Vacation has its conveni∣encies too. Children are of the number of things that are not so much to be desired,* 1.396 espe∣cially now, that it would be so hard to make them good. Bona jam nec nasci licet, ita cor∣rupta sunt semina. And yet are justly to be la∣mented

by such as lose them when they have them. He who left me my House in charge, fore-told that I was like to ruin it, consider∣ing my Humour so little inclin'd to look af∣ter houshold Affairs: But he was mistaken, for I am in the same condition now as when I first enter'd into it, or rather better; and yet without Office, or any Place of profit. As to the rest, if Fortune has never done me any violent or extraordinary injury, neither has she done me any particular favour. Whatever we derive from her Bounty, was there above an hundred years before my time. I have, as to my own particular, no essential and solid good, that I stand indebted for to her Liberality; she has indeed done me some airy Honours, and titulary Favours without substance, and those in truth she has not granted, but offer'd me, who, God knows, am all material, and who take nothing but what is real and massy too for current pay: and who, if I durst con∣fess so much, should not think Avarice much less excusable than Ambition, nor Pain less to be avoided than Shame, nor Healthless to be coveted than Learning, or Riches than Nobi∣lity. Amongst those empty Favours of hers, there is none that so much pleases the vain Humour natural to my Countrey, as an Au∣thentick Bull of a Roman Burgess, that was granted me when I was last there, glorious in Seals and gilded Letters; and granted with all imaginable Ceremony and Bounty. And be∣cause 'tis couch'd in a mixt Style, more or less

and that I could have been glad to have seen a Copy of it before it had pas'd the Seal: I will, to satisfie such as are sick of the same curiosity I am, transcribe it here in its true form.

Quod Horatius Maximus, Martius Cecius, Alexander Mutus, almae urbis conservatores de Illustrissimo viro Michaele Montano equi∣te Sancti Michaelis, & á Cubiculo Regis Christianissimi, Romana Civitate donando, ad Senatum retulerunt, S. P. Q. R. de ea re ita fieri censuit.

CVm veteri more, & instituto cupidè illi semper studioséque suscepti sint, qui virtu∣te ac nobilitate praestantes, magno Reip. nostrae usui atque ornamento fuissent, vel esse aliquando possent: Nos majorum nostrorum exemplo, at∣que auctoritate permoti, praeclaram hanc Consue∣tudinem nobis imitandam, ac servandam fore censemus. Quamobrem cum Illustrissimus Mi∣chael Montanus Eques Sancti Michaelis, & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cubiculo Regis Christianissimi, Romani nominis studiosissimus, & familiae laude, atque splendore, & propriis virtutum meritis dignissimus sit, qui summo Senatus Populique Romani judicio, ac studio in Romanam Civitatem adsciscatur, pla∣cere Senatui P. Q. R. Illustrissimum, Michaele•• Montanum rebus omnibus ornatissimum, atque huic inclyto populo charissimum, ipsum posteros∣que in Romanam Civitatem adscribi, ornarique omnibus, & praemiis & honoribus, quibis illi

fruuntur, qui Cives Patritiique Romani nati, aut jure optimo facti sunt. In quo censere Senatum P. Q. R. se non tam illi jus Civitatis largiri, quam debitum tribuere, neque magis beneficium dare, quam ab ipso accipere, qui hoc Civitatis munere accipiendo, singulari Civitatem ipsam or∣namento, atque honore affecerit. Quam S. C. auctoritatem iidem Conservatores per Senatus R. Q. R. scribas in acta referri atque in Capi∣tolii curia servari, privilegiumque hujusmodi fie∣ri, solitoque urbis sigillo communiri curarunt. Anno ab urbe condita CXƆCCCXXXI. Post Christum natum M.D.LXXXI. III Idus Martii.

Horatius Fuscus Sacri S. P. Q. R. scriba. Vincent. Martholus Sacri S.P. Q. R. scriba.

Being before Burgess of no City at all, I am glad to be created one, of the most Noble that ever was, or ever shall be. If other men would consider themselves at the rate I do, they would, as I do, discover themselves to be full of inanity and foppery; to rid my self of it I cannot, without making my self away. We are all leaven'd with it, as well one as another; but they who are aware on't, have the better bargain, and yet I know not whether they have or no: This Opinion, and common Usance, to observe others more than our selves, has very much reliev'd us that way. 'Tis a ve∣ry displeasing Object: We can there see no∣thing but Misery and Vanity. Nature, that we may not be dejected with the sight of our

own Deformities, has wisely thrust the action of Seeing outward. We go forward with the Current, but to turn back towards our selves is a painful motion; so is the Sea mov'd and troubled when the Waves rush against one another. Observe, says every one, the motion of the Heavens, the Revolution of publick Af∣fairs; observe the quarrel of such a Person, take notice of such a ones Pulse, of such ano∣thers last Will and Testament; in sum, be al∣ways looking high or low, on one side, before, or behind you. It was a Paradoxical command antiently given us by the God of Delphos, Look into your self, discover your self, keep close to your self; call back your Mind and Will, that else∣where consumes themselves into your self; you run out, you spill your self, carry a more steady hand: men betray you, men spill you, men steal you from your self. Dost thou not see that this World we live in keeps all its sights confin'd within, and its Eyes open to contemplate it self? 'Tis always Vanity for thee, both with∣in and without, but 'tis less Vanity when less extended. Excepting thee, (O man) said that God, every thing studies it self first, and has bounds to its Labours and Desires, according to its need. There is nothing so empty and necessitous as thou who imbracest the Universe, thou art the Explorator without Knowledge, the Magistrate without Jurisdiction; and after all, the Fool in the Play.

CHAP. X. Of managing the Will.

FEW things, in comparison of what com∣monly affect other men, move, or to say better, possess me: for 'tis but Reason they should concern a man, provided they do not possess him. I am very sollicitous, both by Study and Argument, to enlarge this privi∣ledge of Insensibility, which is in me naturally rais'd to a pretty degree; so that consequent∣ly I espouse, and am very much mov'd with very few things. I am clear sighted enough, but I fix upon very few Objects; have a sence delicate and tender enough, but an Appre∣hension and Application hard and negligent; I am very unwilling to engage my self. As much as in me lies, I imploy my self wholly for my self; and in this very Subject, should rather chuse to curb and restrain my Affection from plunging it self over Head and Ears into it, it being a Subject that I possess at the mercy of others, and over which Fortune has more right than I. So that even so much as to health, which I so much value, it were neces∣sary for me, not so passionately to covet and desire it, as to find Diseases insupportable. A man ought to moderate himself betwixt the hatred of Pain, and of love of Pleasure. And Plato sets down a middle Path of Life betwixt both. But against such Affections as wholly

carry me away from my self, and fix me else∣where; against those, I say, I oppose my self with my utmost force and power. 'Tis my Opinion, that a man should lend himself to others, and only give himself to himself. Were my Will easie to lend it self out, and to be sway'd, I should not stick there: I am too ten∣der both by nature and usance,

* 1.397— fugax rerum, securaque in otia natus.

Born, and bred up in negligence and ease.

hot and obstinate disputes wherein my Ad∣versary would at last have the better. The is∣sue that would render my heat and obstinacy disgraceful, would peradventure vex me to the last degree. Should I set my self to it at the rate that others, who do pursue and grasp at so much, my Soul would never have the force to bear the Emotion and Alarms; it would immediately be disorder'd by this inward Agitation. If sometimes I have been put upon the management of other mens Affairs, I have promis'd to take it in hand, but not into my Lungs and Liver; to take it upon me, not to incorporate it; to take pains, not be passi∣onate in it; I have a care of it, but I will not brood upon it: I have enough to do to order and govern the domestick Tumults that I have in my own Veins and Bowels, without introducing a crowd of other mens Affairs; and am sufficiently concern'd about my own

proper and natural Business, without medling with the concerns of others. Such as know how much they owe to themselves, and how ma∣ny Offices they are bound to of their own, find, that Nature has cut them out work enough of their own to keep them from being idle. Thou hast Business enough at home, look to that. Men let themselves out to hire, their Fa∣culties are not for themselves, but to be imploy'd for those to whom they have inslav'd themselves; this common Humour pleases not me. We must be thrifty of the liberty of our Souls, and ne∣ver let them out but upon just Occasions, which are very few, if we judge aright. Do but observe such as have accustom'd themselves to be at every ones call, they do it indiffe∣rently upon all, as well little as great Occasi∣ons, in that which nothing concerns them, as much as in what imports them most: They in∣trude themselves indifferently where ever there is business, and are without Life, when not in the bustle of Affairs. In negotiis sunt,* 1.398 negotii causa. They only seek business for business sake. It is not so much that they will go, as it is that they cannot stand still: Like a row∣ling Stone that cannot stop till it can go no farther. Business, in a certain sort of men, is a mark of Understanding, and they are honou∣red for it. Their Souls seek repose in Agitati∣on, as Children do by being rock'd in a Cradle. They may pronounce themselves as service∣able to their Friends, as troublesome to them∣selves. No one distributes his Money to others,

but every one therein distributes his Time and his Life. There is nothing of which we are so prodigal, as of those two things, of which to be thrifty, would be both commendable and useful. I am of a quite contrary Humour. I look to my self, and commonly covet with no great ardour what I do desire, and desire lit∣tle, imploy and busie my self but rarely and temperately, at the same rate. Whatever they take in hand, they do it with their utmost power and vehemency. There are therein so many dangerous steps, that for the more safe∣ty, we must a little lightly and superficially slide through the World, and not rush through it. Pleasure it self is painful at the bottom.

* 1.399— incedis per ignes, Subpositos cineri doloso.

Thou upon glowing Coals does tread, Under deceitful Ashes hid.

The Parliament of Bourdeaux chose me Mayor of their City, at a time when I was at a great distance from France, and much more remote from any such thought; I intreated to be excus'd, and refus'd it. But I was told by my Friends, that I had committed an Er∣ror in so doing, and the greater, because the King had moreover interpos'd his Command in that Affair. 'Tis an Office that ought to be look'd upon so much more Honourable, as it has no other Salary nor advantage than the

bare honour of its Execution: It continues two years, but may be extended by a second Election, which very rarely happens: it was to me, and had never been so but twice be∣fore: some years ago to Monsieur de Lansac, and lately to Monsieur de Biron, Mareschall of France, in whose place I succeeded, and left mine to Monsieur de Matignon, Mareschall of France also. Proud of so noble a Fraternity.

Vterque bonus pacis bellique minister.* 1.400

Both of them men of worthy Character, For able Ministers in Peace and War.

Fortune would have a hand in my Promotion, by this particular Circumstance which she put in of her own; not altogether vain; for Ale∣xander disdain'd the Ambassadors of Corinth, who came to make him a tender of a Burgess∣ship of their City; but when they proceeded to lay before him, that Bacchus and Hercules were also in the Register, he thankfully ac∣cepted the offer. At my arrival, I faithfully and conscientiously represented my self to them for such as I find my self to be; a man without Memory, without Vigilancy, without Experi∣ence, and without Vigour; but withall, with∣out Hatred, without Ambition, without Ava∣rice, and without Violence, that they might be inform'd of my Qualities, and know what they were to expect from my Service. And be∣ing that the knowledge they had had of my

Father, and the Honour they had for his Me∣mory, had been the only Motives to conferr this Favour upon me: I plainly told them, that I should be very sorry any thing should make so great an Impression upon me as their Affairs, and the Concerns of their City had done upon him, whilst he had the same Go∣vernment to which they had preferr'd me. I very well remember, from a Boy, to have seen him in his old Age, tormented with, and solli∣citous about the publick Affairs, neglecting the soft repose of his own House, to which the declension of his Age had reduc'd him for several years before; the management of his own Affairs, and his Health, and certainly de∣spising his own Life, which was in great dan∣ger of being lost, by being ingag'd in long and painful Voyages on their behalf. Such was he, and this Humour of his proceeded from a marvellous good Nature. Never was there a more charitable and popular Soul. Yet this proceeding which I commend in others, I do not love to follow my self, and am not with∣out excuse. He had learnt, that a man must for∣get himself for his Neighbour, and that parti∣culars were in no manner of consideration in comparison with the general Concern. Most of the Rules and Precepts of this World run this way, to drive us out of our selves into the wide World for the benefit of publick Socie∣ty. They thought to do a great Feat, to di∣vert us from our selves, presuming we were but too much fixt at home, and by a too na∣tural

Inclination, and have said all they could to that purpose: for 'tis no new thing for wise men to preach things as they serve, not as they are. Truth has its Obstructions, Inconve∣niencies, and Incompatibilities with us. We must be often deceiv'd, that we may not de∣ceive our selves; Shut our Eyes, and stupifie our Understandings to redress and amend them. Imperiti enim judicant, & qui frequenter in hoc ipsum fallendi sunt, ne errent. For the ignorant judge, and therefore are oft to be deceiv'd lest they should err. When they prescribe us to love three, four, and fifty degrees of things above our selves, they do like Archers, who to hit the white, take their aim a great deal higher than the Butt. To set a crooked stick strait, we bend it the contrary way. I believe, that in the Temple of Pallas, as we see in all other Religions, there were apparent Misteries to be expos'd to the People, and others more secret and high, that were only to be shown to such as were profess'd. 'Tis likely that in these, the true point of Friendship that every own owes to himself is to be found; not a false Friend∣ship, that makes us embrace Glory, Knowledge, Riches, and the like, with a principal and im∣moderate Affection, as Members of our Being: nor an indiscreet and effeminate Friendship, wherein it happens as with Ivy, that decays and ruines the Walls it does embrace: but a sound and regular Friendship, equally utile and pleasant. Who knows the Duties of this Friendship, and does practice them, is truly of

the Cabinet-Counsel of the Muses, and has at∣tain'd to the height of humane Wisdom, and our Happiness. Such a one exactly knowing what he owes to himself, will in his part find that he ought to apply the usance of the World, and of other men to himself, and to do this, to contribute the Duties and Offices ap∣pertaining to him, to the publick Society. Who does not in some sort live to others, does not live much to himself.* 1.401 Qui sibi amicus est, scito hunc amicum omnibus esse. He who is his own Friend, is a Friend to every body else. The principal charge we have, is, to every own his own conduct: And 'tis for this only that we here live. As he who should forget to live a virtuous and holy Life, and should think he acquitted himself of his Duty in instructing and training others up to it, would be a Fool; even so, who abandons his own particular healthful and pleasant living to serve others, takes, in my Opinion, a wrong and an unnatu∣ral course. I would not that men should re∣fuse, in the Imployments they take upon them, their Attention, Pains, their best Eloquence, and their Sweat and Blood, in time of need;

* 1.402non ipse pro charis amicis Aut patria timidus perire.

* 1.403He well knows how hard want to bear And fears a Crime more than his end, And for his Country, or his Friend, To stake his Life he does not fear.

But 'tis only borrow'd, and accidentally; his Mind being always in Repose, and in Health, not without Action, but without Vexation, without Passion. To be simply doing, costs him so little, that he acts even sleeping. But it must be set on going with Discretion; for the Body receives the Offices impos'd upon it, just according to what they are; the Mind oft ex∣tends and makes them heavier at its own Ex∣pence, giving them what measure it pleases. Men perform like things with several sorts of Indeavour, and different Contention of Wit; the one does well enough without the other. For how many People hazard themselves every day in War without any concern which way it goes; and thrust themselves into the dan∣gers of Battels, the loss of which will not break their next Nights sleep? And such a man may be at home, out of Danger, which he durst not have look'd upon, who is more passionately concern'd for the issue of this War, and whose Soul is more anxious about Events, than the Souldier who stakes his Life and Blood in the Quarrel. I could have engag'd my self in publick Imployments, without quit∣ting my own Interest a nail's breadth, and have given my self to others, without abandoning my self; this sharpness and violence of desires more hinders than it advances the Execution of what we undertake; fills us with impati∣ence against slow or contrary Events, and with heat and suspition against those with whom we have to do. We never carry on

that thing well, by which we are prepossess'd and led.

Malè cuncta ministrat Impetus

For heat does still Carry on all things very ill.

He, who therein employs only his Judgment and Address, proceeds more cheerfully: he counter∣feits, he gives way, he deferrs all things at his ease according to the necessities of occasions; he fails in his attempt without trouble and af∣flictions, ready and intire for a new Enter∣prize: he alwayes marches with the Bridle in his hand. In him who is drunk with this vi∣olent and tyrannick intention, we discover by necessity much imprudence and injustice. The impetuosity of his desire carries him away. These are rash motions,* 1.404 and if Fortune do not very much assist, of very little fruit. Philosophy will, that in the revenge of injuries receiv'd, we should strip our selves of Cho∣ler; not that the Chastisement should be less, but on the contrary, that the Revenge may be the better, and more heavily laid on, which it conceives will be by this impetuosity hin∣dred. For Anger does not only trouble, but of it self does also weary the arms of those who chastise.* 1.405 This fire benumms and wasts their force. As in precipitation, festinatio tar∣da est, Haste trips up its own heels, fetters and stops it self.* 1.406 Ipsa se velocitas implicat. For ex∣ample; According to what I commonly see, Avarice has no greater impediment than it

self. The more bent and vigorous it is, the less it ••akes together; and commonly sooner grows rich, when disguis'd in a Vizor of Liberality. A very honest Gentleman, and a particular Friend of mine, had like to have crack'd his brains by a too passionate attention and affe∣ction to the Affairs of a certain Prince, his Ma∣ster; Which Master has thus set himself out to me; that he foresees the weight of Acci∣dents as well as another, but that in those for which there is no remedy, he presently re∣solves upon suffering; in others, having ta∣ken all the necessary precautions which by the vivacity of his understanding he can pre∣sently do, he quietly expects what may fol∣low. And in truth, I have accordingly seen him maintain a great indifferency and liberty of actions, and serenity of countenance, in very great and nice Affairs. I find him much great∣er, and of greater capacity in adverse than prosperous Fortune. His Losses are to him more glorious than his Victories, and his Mourning than his Tryumph. Do but consider, that even in vain and frivolous actions, as at Chess, Tennis, and the like, this eager and ardent engaging with an impetuous desire, immedi∣ately throws the Mind and Members into in∣discretion and disorder. A man astonishes and hinders himself. He that carries him∣self the most moderately both towards gain and loss, has always his Wits about him. The less peevish and passionate he is at play, he plays much more advantageously and surely.

As to the rest, we hinder the Minds seisure and hold, in giving it so many things to seize upon. Some things we are only to offer to it, to tye it to others, and with others to in∣corporate it. It can feel and discern all things▪ but ought to feed upon nothing but it self▪ and should be instructed in what properly concerns it self, that is properly of its own Be∣ing and Substance: The Laws of Nature teach us what we are justly to have. After the S••∣ges have told us, that no one is indigent ac∣cording to Nature, and that every one is so according to Opinion, they very subtilly di∣stinguish betwixt the desires that proceed from her, and those that proceed from the disorder of our own fancy. Those of which we can see the end are hers; those that fly before us, and of which we can see no end, are our own. The want of Goods is easily repair'd, the po∣verty of the Soul is irreparable.

* 1.407Nam si, quod satis est homini, id satis esse potesse••, Hoc sat erat: nunc, quum hoc non est, qui credi∣mus porro Divitias ullas animum mi explere potesse?

If what's for man enough, enough could be, It were enough: but being that we see Will not serve turn, how can I e're believe That any Wealth my mind content can give.

Socrates, seeing great quantity of Riches, Jew∣els, and Furniture of great value, carried in

pomp through the City; How many things, said he, do I not desire. Metrodorus liv'd on the weight of twelve ounces a day, Epicurus upon less: Metroclez slept in Winter abroad amongst Sheep, in Summer in the Cloysters of Churches. Sufficit ad id natura quod poscit.* 1.408 Cleanthes liv'd by labour of his own hands, and boasted, that Cleanthes, if he would, could yet maintain another Cleanthes. If that which Na∣ture exactly and originally requires of us for the conservation of our Being, be too little, (as in truth what it is, and how good cheap Life may be maintain'd, cannot be better made out, than by this Consideration, that it is so little, that by its littleness escapes the gripe and shock of Fortune) let us dispence our selves a little more, let us yet call every one of our Habits and Conditions Nature; let us tax and treat our selves by this measure, let us stretch our appurtenances and accounts so far, for so far I fancy we have some excuse. Custom is a second Nature, and no less powerful. What is wanting to my Custom, I reckon is wanting to me; and I should be almost as well content that they took away my Life, as cut me short in the way wherein I have so long liv'd. I am no more in a Condition of any great change, nor to put my self into a new and unwonted course, not though never so much to my Ad∣vantage; 'tis past time for me to become other than what I am. And as I should complain of any great good Adventure that should now be∣fall me, that it came not in time to be enjoy'd;

* 1.409Quo mihi fortunae, si non conceditur uti?

Might I have the Worlds Wealth I should re∣fuse it, What good will't do me, If I may not use it.

so should I complain of any inward acquest. It were almost better, never, than so late to be∣come an honest man; and well read in living, when a man has no longer to live. I, who am ready to make my exit out of the World, would easily resign to any new comer, who should desire it, all the Prudence I have ac∣quir'd in the Worlds Commerce. After Me•••• comes Mustard. I have no need of Goods, of which I can make no use. Of what use i•• Knowledge to him that has lost his Head? 'Ti•• an Injury and Unkindness in Fortune, to ten∣der us Presents that will only inspire us with a just despite that we had them not in thei•• due season. Guide me no more, I can no lon∣ger go. Of so many parts as make up a per∣fect man, Patience is the best. Assign the pa•••• of an excellent Treble to a Chorister that ha•• rotten Lungs, and Eloquence to a Hermit ex∣iled into the Desarts of Arabia. There need•• no Art to further a fall; the end finds it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of it self; at the Conclusion of every Affair my World is at an end, my Form expir'd; I am to∣tally past, and am bound to authorise it, an•• to conform my Posterity to it.* 1.410 I will here de••clare by way of Example, that the late te•• days diminution of the Pope, have taken me 〈◊〉〈◊〉 low, that I cannot well recover my self. I fol∣low

the years wherein we kept another kind of account, so antient, and so long a Custom, challenges and calls me back to it; so that I am constrain'd to be a kind of Heretick in that point, impatient of any, though corrective In∣novation. My Imagination, in spite of my Teeth, always pushes me ten days forward or backward, and is ever murmuring in my Ears. This Rule concerns those who are to begin to be. If Health it self, as sweet as it is, returns to me by fits, 'tis rather to give me cause of regret, than possession of it; I have no place left to keep it in. Time leaves me, without which nothing can be possess'd. Oh, what lit∣tle account should I make of those great ele∣ctive Dignities that I see in such esteem in the World, that are never conferr'd but upon men who are taking leave of it; wherein they do not so much regard how well he will discharge his trust, as how short his Administration will be; from the very Entry, they look at the ex∣it. To conclude, I am ready to finish this man, and not to rebuild another. By long usance this Form is in me turn'd into Substance, and Fortune into Nature. I say therefore, that every one of us feeble Creatures is excusable in thinking that his own which is compris'd under this measure; but withall, beyond these limits, 'tis nothing but Confusion, 'tis the lar∣gest extent we can grant to our own claim. The more Business we create our selves, and the more we amplifie our Possessions, so much more do we expose our selves to the Blows

and Adversities of Fortune. The career of our desires ought to be circumscrib'd, and re∣strain'd to a short limit of near and contigu∣ous Conveniencies; and ought moreover to perform their Course, not in a right line, that ends elsewhere, but in a Circle, of which the two points by a short wheel meet and termi∣nate in our selves. Actions that are carried on without this Reflection, a near and essential Reflection I mean; such as those of ambitious and avaricious men, and many more who run point blanck, and whose career always carries them before themselves, such Actions I say are erroneous and sickly: most of our Business is Farce.* 1.411 Mundus universus exercet Histrioniam. We must play our part well, but withall as the part of a borrow'd Person; we must not make real Essence of a Vizor and outward apparence, nor of a strange Person our own; we cannot distinguish the Skin from the Shirt: 'tis enough to meal the Face without mealing the Breast. I see some, who transform and transubstantiate themselves into as many new Shapes and new Beings as they undertake Employments, and who prelate themselves even to the Heart and Liver, and carry their state along with them, even to the Close-stool: I cannot make them distinguish the Salutations are made to them from those are made to their Commission, their Train,* 1.412 or their Mule. Tantum se Fortunae per∣mittunt, etiam ut Naturam didiscant. They so much give themselves up to Fortune, as even to forget their Nature. They swell and puff up

their Souls, and their natural way of speaking, according to the height of their Place. The Mayor of Bordeaux and Montaigne have ever been two, by very manifest separation. To be an Advocate, or a Treasurer, a man must not be ignorant of the Knavery of such Callings; and yet ought not to refuse to take the Cal∣ling upon him: 'tis the usance of his Country, and there is Money to be got by it; a man must live by the World▪ and make his best of it, such as it is. But the Judgment of an Em∣perour ought to be above his Empire, and the seeing and considering of it, as of a foreign ac∣cident; and he ought to know how to enjoy himself apart from it, and to communicate himself as James and Peter, to himself at least. I cannot engage my self so deep and so intire; when my Will gives me to any one, 'tis not with so violent an Obligation that my Judg∣ment is infected with it. In the present Broils of this Kingdom, my Interest has not made me forget my self, nor the laudable Qualities of some of our Adversaries, nor those that are re∣proachable in those of our Party. They adore all of their own side, for my part I do not so much as excuse most things in those of mine: A good Speech has never the worse grace for being made against me. The knot of the con∣troversie excepted, I have always kept my self in equanimity and pure indifference. Neque extra necessitates belli, praecipuum odium gero. And have no express hatred beyond the Necessity of War. For which I am pleased with my self,

and the more, because I see others commonly fail on the contrary side. Such as extend their anger and hatred beyond the dispute in que∣stion, as most men do, shew that they spring from some other occasion and particular cause; like one who being cur'd of an Vlcer, has yet a remaining Fever, by which it appears that the Vlcer had another more conceal'd beginning; which is, that they are not con∣cern'd in the common cause, because it is wounding to the State and common Interest; but are only netled by Reason of their private and particular Concern. This is the true Reason why they are so particularly animated, and to a degree so beyond Justice and publick Rea∣son. Non tam omnia universi, quam ea, quae ad quemque pertinent, singuli carpebant. Every one was not so much angry against things in general, as against those that particularly concern'd them∣selves. I would have matters go well on our side, but if they do not, I shall not run mad, I am heartily for the right party; but I do not affect to be taken notice of for an especial Enemy to others, and beyond the general quarrel. I am a mortal Enemy to this vicious form of censure, He is of the League, because he admires the Duke of Guise. He is astonish'd at the King of Navarrs Valour and Diligence, and therefore he is a Hugonot. He finds such and such Faults in the Kings Manners and Conduct, and therefore he is seditious in his Heart. And would not grant to a Magistrate himself, that he did well in condemning a

Book because it had plac'd a Heretick amongst the best Poets of the Time. Shall we not dare to say of a Thief, that he has a handsom Leg? If a Woman be a Strumpet, must it needs fol∣low that she has a stinking Breath? Did they in the wisest Ages revoke the proud title of Capitolinus, they had before conferr'd upon Marcus Manlius, as being the Conservator of Religion and the publick Liberty? Did they therefore damn the Memory of his Liberality, his Feats of Arms, and Military Recompence granted to his Virtue, because he afterwards aspir'd to the Sovereignty, to the Prejudice of the Laws of his Country? If they take a hatred against an Advocate, he will not be allow'd the next day to be eloquent. I have elsewhere spoke of the Zeal that push'd on worthy men to the like Faults. For my part, I can say, such a one does this thing ill, and another thing virtuously and well. They will likewise, that in the Prognosticks, or Sinister Events of Af∣fairs, every one should in his Party be blind, or a Block-head, and that our Perswasion and Judgment should be subservient, not to Truth, but to the project of our desires. I should ra∣ther incline towards the other extream, so much I fear being suborn'd by my desire: To which may be added, that I am a little tender∣ly distrustful of things that I wish.* 1.413 I have in my time seen wonders in the indiscreet and prodigious facility of People in suffering their hopes and belief to be led and govern'd which way has best pleas'd and serv'd their Leaders,

above an hundred mistakes one upon another; and above Dreams and Phantasms. I no more wonder at those who have been blinded, and se∣duc'd by the ••ooleries of Apollonius and Ma∣homet. Their Sence and Understanding is ab∣solutely taken away by their Passion; their Discretion has no more any other choice than that which smiles upon them, and relieves their Cause. I had principally observ'd this in the beginning of our intestine Distempers, th•••• other which is sprung since, in imitating, has sur∣pass'd it; by which I am satisfied that it is a quality inseparable from popular Errors. Af∣ter the first that rouls, Opinions drive on one another like Waves with the Wind. A man is not a member of the Body, if it be in his Power to forsake it, and if he do not roul the common way; but doubtless they wrong the just side, when they go about to assist it with Fraud. I have ever been against that Practice. They are only fit to work upon weak heads; for the found, there are surer and more honest ways to keep up their Courages, and to excuse adverse Accidents. Heaven never saw a grea∣ter Animosity than that betwixt Caesar and Pompey, nor ••ver shall; and yet I observe me∣thinks in those brave Souls, a great moderati∣on towards one another. It was a jealousie of Honour and Command, which did not tran∣sport them to a furious and indiscreet hatred, and that was, though hatred, without Malig∣nity and Detraction. In their briskest and ho••∣test Encounters, and Exploits upon one ano∣ther,

I discover some remains of respect and good will; and am therefore of Opinion, that had it been possible, each of them would ra∣ther have done his Business without the ruine of the other, than with it. Take notice how much otherwise Matters went with Marius and Sylla. We must not precipitate our selves so head-long after our Affections and Interest. As when I was young, I oppos'd my self to the progress of Love, which I perceiv'd to advance too fast upon me, and had a care lest it should at last become so pleasing, as to force, cap∣tivate, and wholly reduce me to his Mercy: so I do the same upon all other Occasions where my Will is running on with too warm an Appetite. I lean opposite to the side it in∣clines to, as I find it going to plunge and make it self drunk with its own wine; I evade nou∣rishing its Pleasure so far, that I cannot reco∣ver it without infinite loss. Souls, that through their own Stupidity only discern things by halves, have this happiness, that they smart least with hurtful things. 'Tis a spiritual Leprosie that has some show of Health, and such a Health as Philosophy does not altogether con∣temn; but yet we have no Reason to call it Wisdom, as we often do. And after this man∣ner, some one anciently mock'd Diogenes, who in the depth of Winter, and stark naked, went hugging an Image of Snow for a Tryal of his Patience: this other meeting him in this Equi∣page, Art thou now very cold? said he,* 1.414 not at all reply'd Diogenes. Why then, said the other,

What great and exemplary thing can'st thou think thou do'st in imbracing that Snow? A man, to take a true measure of Constancy, must ne∣cessarily know what suffering is; but Souls that are to meet with adverse Events, and the Injuries of Fortune in their depth and sharp∣ness, that are to weigh and taste them accord∣ing to their natural weight and sharpness, let such shew their skill in avoiding the Causes, and diverting the Blow. What did King Co∣tys do?* 1.415 He pay'd liberally for the rich and beautiful Vessel that had been presented him, but being it was exceeding brittle, he immedi∣ately broke it betimes, to prevent so easie a matter of displeasure against his Servants. In like manner, I have willingly avoided all con∣fusion in my Affairs, and never coveted to have my estate contiguous to those of my Re∣lation, and such with whom I coveted a strict Friendship; whence Matters of Unkindness and falling out do oft proceed. I have for∣merly lov'd Cards and Dice, but have long since left them off, only for this Reason, that though I carried my losses as handsomly as another, I was not well satisfied and quiet within. Let a man of Honour, who ought to be sensible of the Lye, and who is not to take a scurvy excuse for Satisfaction, avoid Occasi∣ons of dispute. I shun melancholick and sour natur'd men, as I would do the Plague. And in Matters I cannot talk of without Emotion and Concern, I never meddle, if not compell'd by my Duty.* 1.416 Melius non incipient, quam de∣sinent.

A man had better never to have begun, than to desist. The surest way therefore is, to prepare a mans self before hand for Occasions. I know very well, that some wise men have taken another way, and have not fear'd to grapple and engage to the utmost upon several Subjects. Such are confident of their own Strength, under which they protect themselves in all ill Successes, making their Patience wrestle and contend with disaster:

velut rupes vastum quae prodit in aequor,* 1.417 Obvia ventorum furiis, expostaque ponto, Vim cunctam atque minas perfert coelique maris∣que Ipsa immota manens.

He as a Rock amongst vast Billows stood,* 1.418 Scorning loud Winds, and raging of the Flood, And fixt remaining all the force defies Mustred from threatning Seas, and thundring Skies.

Let us never attempt these Examples, we shall never come up to them. They set themselves resolutely, and without trouble, to behold the ruine of their Country, to which all the good they can contrive or perform is due. This is too much, and too rude for our common Souls to undergo. Cato indeed gave up the noblest Life that ever was upon this account; but it is for us meaner spirited men, to fly from the storm as far as we can; we ought to make provision of Resentment, not of Patience, and evade the Blows we cannot put by. Zeno,

seeing Chremonidez, a young man whom he lov'd, draw near to sit down by him, suddenly start up; and Cleanthes demanding of him the Reason why he did so, I hear, said he, that Physicians, especially order'd Repose, and forbid Emotion in all Tumors. Socrates does not say, do not surrender to the Charms of Beauty, stand your ground, and do your utmost to oppose it. Fly it, says he, shun the sight and encounter of it, as of a powerful Poyson that darts and wounds at distance. And his good Disciple, either faining or reciting, but in my Opinion, rather reciting than faining, the rare Perfections of that great Cyrus, makes him di∣strustful of his own Strength, to resist the Charms of the Divine Beauty of that illustri∣ous Panthea, his Captive, in committing the visiting and keeping of her to another, who could not have so much Liberty as himself. And the Holy Ghost in like manner, Ne nos inducas in tentationem. We do not pray that our Reason may not be combated and over∣come by Concupiscence, but that it should not be so much as try'd; that we should not be brought into a state wherein we were so much as to suffer the approaches, sollicitati∣ons, and temptations of Sin: and we beg of Almighty-God to keep our Consciences quiet, fully, and perfectly deliver'd from all com∣merce of Evil. Such as say that they have reason for their revenging Passion, or any other sort of troublesom Agitation of Mind, do oft say true, as things now are, but not as

they were. They speak to us when the Cau∣ses of their Error are by themselves nourish'd and advanc'd. But look backward, recall these Causes to their Beginning, and there you will put them to a non••plus; will they have their Fault less for being of longer continuance, and that of an unjust beginning, the sequel can be just? Whoever shall desire the good of his Country, as I do, without fretting or pining himself, will be troubled, but will not swoon to see it threatning either its own ruine, or a no less ruinous continuance. Poor Vessel, that the Waves, the Winds, and the Pilot, toss and steer to so contrary Designs!

in tam diversa, magister,* 1.419 Ventus, & unda trahunt.

He, who does not gape after the Favour of Princes, as after a thing he cannot live with∣out, does not much concern himself at the cold∣ness of their Reception and Countenance, nor at the inconstancy of their Wills. He who does not brood over his Children or his Ho∣nours with a slavish propension, ceases not to live commodiously enough after their loss. Who does good principally for his own satis∣faction, will not be much troubled to see men judge of his actions contrary to his merit. A quarter of an ounce of Patience will provide sufficiently against such inconveniences. I find ••ase in this Receipt, redeeming my self in the beginning as good cheap as I can; and find,

that by that means I have escap'd much trou∣ble and many difficulties. With very little ado I stop the first sally of my Emotions, and leave the subject that begins to be troublesome before it transports me. He who stops not the start, will never be able to stop the career▪ Who cannot keep them out, will never get them out when they are once got in; and who cannot crush them at the beginning, will never do it after, nor ever keep himself from falling, if he cannot recover himself when he first begins to totter.* 1.420 Etenim ipsa se impellunt, ubi semel à ratione discessum est: ipsáque sibi im∣becillitas indulget, in altumque provehitur impru∣dent: nec reperit locum consistendi. For they throw themselves head-long, when once they lose their Reasons; and Frailty does so far indulge it self, that it is unawares carried out into the deep, and can find no Port wherein to come to an Anchor. I am betimes sensible of the little breezes that begin to sing and whistle in the shrowds; the fore-runners of the storm.

* 1.421— ceu flamina prima Cum deprensa fremunt Sylvis, & caeca volutant Murmura, venturos nautis prodentia ventos.

* 1.422as when Winds rise, And stop by Woods, a sudden Murmur send, Which doth a storm to Mariners portend.

How oft have I done my self a manifest Inju∣stice, to avoid the hazard of having yet a worse done me by the Judges, after an Age of Vexations, dirty and vile Practises, more Ene∣mies

to my Nature than Fire or the Wrack? Convenit à litibus quantum licet, & nescio an paulo plus etiam quàm licet abhorrentem esse. Est enim non modo liberale,* 1.423 paululum nonnumquam de suo jure decedere, sed interdum etiam fructuo∣sum. A man should be an enemy to all Contenti∣on as much as he lawfully may, and I know not, whether not something more: For 'tis not only liberal, but sometimes also advantageous too, a lit∣tle to recede from ones right. Were we wise, we ought to rejoyce and boast, as I one day heard a young Gentleman of a good Family very in∣nocently do, that his Mother had lost her Try∣al, as if it had been a Cough, a Fever, or some∣thing very troublesome to keep: Even the Favours that Fortune might have given me through Relation or Acquaintance with those who have Sovereign Authority in those Af∣fairs, I have very conscientiously wav'd; and very carefully avoided imploying them to the prejudice of others, and of advancing my pre∣tentions above their true Right. In fine, I have so much prevail'd by my Indeavours, in a happy hour I may speak it, that I am to this day a Virgin from all Suits in Law; though I have had very fair offers made me, and with very just Title, would I have heark∣ned to them: and a Virgin from Quarrels too. I have almost past over a long Life without any offence of moment, either active or passive, or without ever hearing a worse word than my own Name: a rare Favour of Heaven. Our greatest Agitations have ridiculous Mo∣tives

and Causes. What ruin did our last Duk•• of Burgundy run into about a Cart load of Sheeps Pel••s! And was not the graving of •• Seal the first and principal cause of the greatest Commotion that this Machine of the World di•• ever undergo? For Pompey and Caesar are but the off-sets and continuation of two others▪ And I have in my time seen the wisest Head•• in this Kingdom assembled with great Ceremo∣ny, and at the publick expence, about Treaties and Agreements, of which the true decision did in the mean time absolutely depend upon the Ladies Cabinet-Counsel, and the inclinati∣on of some foolish Women.* 1.424 The Poets very well understood this, when they put all Gre•••• and Asia to Fire and Sword for an Apple. In∣quire why that man hazards his Life and Ho∣nour upon the Fortune of his Rapier and Dag∣ger; let him acquaint you with the occasion of the Quarrel, he cannot do it without blush∣ing, 'tis so idle and frivolous: A little thing will ingage you in't, but being once imbark'd, all cords, draw; greater provisions are then re∣quired, more hard, and more important. How much easier is it not to enter in, than it is to get out? Now we should proceed contrary to the Reed, which at its first springing, pro∣duces a long and strait shoot, but afterwards, as if tir'd and out of Breath, it runs into thick and frequent joynts and knots, as so many pauses; which demonstrates, that it has no more its first Vigour and Constancy. 'Twere better to begin fair and coldly, and to keep

a mans Breath, and vigorous attaques for the height and stress of the Business. We guide and govern Affairs in their Beginnings, and have them then in our own power; but after∣wards, when they are once at work, 'tis they that guide and govern us, and we are to fol∣low them. Yet do I not pretend by this to say, that this Councel has discharg'd me of all difficulty, and that I have not often had enough to do to curb and restrain my Passions. They are not always to be govern'd according to the measure of Occasions, and often have their Entries very sharp and violent. So it is, that thence good fruit and profit may be reap'd; except for those, who in well doing are not satisfied with any benefit, if Reputation be wanting: For in truth, such an effect is not valued but by every one to himself. You are better contented, but not more esteem'd; see∣ing you reform'd your self before you came into play, and that any Vice was discover'd in you: yet not in this only, but in all other Duties of Life, also the way of those who aim at Honour, is very different from that they proceed by; who propose to themselves Order and Reason. I find some, who rashly and furiously rush into the Lists, and cool in the Course. As Plutarch says, that as those who thorough Bashfulness, being soft and facile to grant whatever is desir'd of them, are after∣wards as frail to break their word, and to re∣cant; so likewise he who enters lightly into a Quarrel, is subject to go as lightly out. The

same difficulty that keeps me from entring in∣to it, would, when once hot and engag'd in Quarrel, incite me to maintain it with great Obstinacy and Resolution. 'Tis the Tyranny of Custom, when a man is once engag'd, he must go through with it, or dye. Vndertake coldly, said Bias, but pursue with Ardour. For want of Prudence, men fall into want of Courage, which is more intolerable. Most Accomoda∣tions of the Quarrels of these days of ours, are shameful and false, we only seek to save Ap∣parences, and in the mean time betray and dis∣avow our true Intentions. We salve the fact. We know very well how we said the thing, and in what sence we spoke it, and both all the Company, and of them our Friends with whom we would appear to have the Advan∣tage, understand it well enough too. 'Tis at the expence of our Liberty, and the Honour of our Courage, that we disown our Thoughts, and seek refuge in Falsities, to be Friends. We give our selves the Lye, to excuse the Lye we have given to another. You are to consi∣der if your Word or Action may admit of another Interpretation; 'tis your own true and sincere Interpretation of, and your real mean∣ing in what you said or did, that you are thenceforward to maintain, whatever it cost you. Men speak to your Virtue, Honour, and Conscience, which are none of them to be disguis'd. Let us leave these pittiful Ways and Expedients to the Juglers of the Law. The Excuses and Satisfactions that I see every day

made, and given to repair Indiscretion, seem to me more scandalous than Indiscretion it self. It were better to affront your Adversary a se∣cond time, than to offend your self by giving him so unmanly a Satisfaction. You have brav'd him in your heat and anger, and you go to flatter and appease him in your cooler and better sense; and by that means lay your self lower, and at his feet, whom before you pretended to over-top. I do not find any thing a Gentleman can say so rude and vicious in him, as unsaying what he has said is infamous; when to unsay it is authoritatively extracted from him, for as much as Obstinacy is more excusable in a man of Honour than Pusillani∣mity can possibly be. Passions are as easie for me to evade, as they are hard for me to mo∣derate. Exscinduntur facilius animo,* 1.425 quam tem∣perantur. Who cannot attain unto that noble Stoical impassibility, let him secure himself in the bosom of this popular Stupidity of mine. What those great Souls perform'd by their Virtue, I inure my self to do by Complexion. The middle region harbours Storms and Tem∣pests, the two extreams of Philosophers and ig∣norant men concur in Tranquility and Hap∣piness.

Foelix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,* 1.426 Atque metus omne, & inexorabile fatum Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari, Fortunatus, & ille, Deos qui novit agrestes, Panaque, Sylvanumque senem, Nymphasque soro∣res.

* 1.427Happy is he that hidden causes knows, And bold, all shapes of danger dare oppose, Trampling beneath his feeet the cruel fates, Whom Death, nor swallowing Acheron amates; And he is blest who knows our Country Gods, Pan, old Sylvanus, and the Nymphs aboads.

The births of all things are weak and tender, and therefore are we to have an eye to their Beginnings; for as then in their Infancy the Danger is not perceiv'd; so when it is grown up, the Remedy is no more to be found. I had every day encounter'd a million of Crosses, har∣der to digest in the progress of my Ambition, than it has been hard for me to curb the na∣tural propension that inclin'd me to it.

* 1.428jure perhorrui, Latè conspicuum tollere verticem.

* 1.429I did well To shrink my Head into my Shell.

All publick Actions are subject to various and incertain Interpretations, for too many heads judge of them. Some say of this City Imploy∣ment of mine (and I am willing to say a word or two of it, not that it is worth so much, but to give an account of my manners in such things) that I have behaved my self in it like a man not easie to be mov'd, and with a lan∣guishing Affection; and they have some colour for what they say. I endeavour to keep my

Mind and my Thoughts in repose.* 1.430 Cum semper natura, tum etiam aetate jam quietus. As being always quiet by Nature, so also now by Age. And if they sometimes lash out upon some rude and sensible impression, 'tis in truth without my advice. Yet from this natural heaviness of mine, men ought not to conclude a total inability in me; for want of Care, and want of Sense are two very different things, and much less any unkindness, or Ingratitude, towards that Corporation, who imploy'd the utmost means they had in their power to oblige me, both before they knew me and after. And they did much more for me in chusing me anew, than in conferring that Honour upon me at first; I love them intirely, and wish them all the good that can befall so worthy a Society. And doubt∣less, had occasion been, there is nothing I would have spar'd for their Service; I did for them as I would have done for my self. 'Tis a good Warlike and generous People, but capable of Obedience and Discipline, and of whom the best use may be made, if well guided. They say also, that my Administration was pass'd over without any great Remark, or any Record of moment. 'Tis true. They moreover accuse my Cessation in a time when every body almost was convinc'd of doing too much. I am impa∣tient to be doing where my Will spurs me on; but this point is an enemy to Perseverance. Let whoever will make use of me, according to my own way, imploy me in affairs where rigour and liberty are requir'd; where a di∣rect,

short, and moreover, a hazardous Conduct are necessary, I peradventure may do some∣thing; but if it must be long, subtle, laborious, artificial and intricate, they were better call in some body else. All important Offices are not hard: I came prepar'd to carry my self a little more roughly, had there been great occasion; for it is in my power to do something more than I do, or than I love to do; I did not to my knowledge omit any thing that my Duty really requir'd; 'tis true, that I easily forget those Offices that Ambition mixes with Duty, and palliates with Title. Those are they, that for the most part, fill the Eyes and Ears, and give men the most satisfaction. Not the thing, but the appearance contents them. They think men sleep if they hear no noise. My Humour is no friend to tumult. I could appease a Riot without emotion, and chastise a Disorder with∣out alteration. If I stand in need of Anger and Inflammation, I borrow it, and put it on; my Manners are heavy, rather faint than sharp. I do not condemn a Magistrate that sleeps, pro∣vided the People under his charge sleep as well as he: the Laws in that case sleep too. For my part, I commend a gliding, solitary, and silent Life.* 1.431 Neque submissam, & abjectam, neque se efferentem. My Fortune will have it so. I am de∣scended from a Family that has liv'd without Lustre or Tumult, and time out of mind par∣ticularly ambitious of Valour and Loyalty. Our People now adays are so bred up to bu∣stle and Ostentation, that good Nature, Mode∣ration,

Equity, Constancy, and such quiet and obscure Qualities, are no more thought on or regarded. Rough bodies make themselves felt, the smooth are imperceptly handled. Sickness is felt, Health little, or not at all, no more than the Oyls that foment us, in comparison of the Pains for which we are fomented. 'Tis acting for a man's Reputation and particular profit, not for the Publick good, to referr that to be done in the publick place, which a man may as well do in the Council-Chamber, and to noon-day, what might have been done the night before; and to be jealous to do that himself which his Colleague can do as well as he. So were some Chirurgions of Greece wont to make their Operations upon Scaffolds in the sight of the People, to draw more practise and profit. They think that good Orders can∣not be understood but by the sound of Trum∣pet. Ambition is not a Vice of little People, and of so mean Abilities as ours. One said to Alexander, your Father will leave you a great Dominion, easie and pacifick; this Youth was emulous of his Father's Victories, and the Ju∣stice of his Government; and would not have injoy'd the Empire of the World in ease and peace. Alcibiades, in Plato, had rather dye Young, Beautiful, Rich, Noble, and Learned, and all this with Excellence, than to continue in the state of such a Condition. This disease is peradventure excusable in so strong and so full a Soul. When these wretched and dwar∣fish Souls gull and deceive themselves, and

think to spread their Fame, for having given right judgment in an Affair, or continued the discipline of keeping the Guard of a Gate of their City, the more they think to exalt their heads, the more they shew their tails. This little well doing has neither body nor life; it vanishes in the first mouth, and goes no far∣ther than from one Street to another. Talk of it in God's-name to your Son, or your Servant; like that old Fellow, who having no other Au∣ditor of his Prayers, nor approver of his Va∣lour, boasted to his Chamber-maid, crying out, O Perret, what a brave man hast thou to thy Master! At the worst hand, talk of it to your self; like a Counsellor of my Acquain∣tance, who having disgorg'd a whole Cart∣full of Paragraphs, with great heat, and as great folly, coming out of the Councel-Cham∣ber to piss, was heard very conscientiously to mutter betwixt his teeth.* 1.432 Non nobis, Domine, non nobis, sed nominè tuo da gloriam. Who can get it of no body else, let him pay himself out of his own purse. Fame is not prostituted at so cheap a rate. Rare and exemplary Acti∣ons, to which it is due, would not endure the company of this prodigious crowd of little performances. Marble may exalt your Titles as much as you please, for having repair'd a Rod of a ruinous Wall, or cleans'd a publick Aquaduct; but not men of Sense. Renown does not follow all good Deeds, if Novelty and Difficulty be not conjoyn'd. Nay, so much as meer estimation, according to the Stoicks,

is not due to every Action that proceeds from Virtue; neither will they allow him bare thanks, who out of Temperance forbears to meddle with an old blear-ey'd Hagg. Such as have known the admirable Qualities of Scipio Affricanus, deny him the glory that Penetius attributes to him, of being abstinent from Gifts, as a glory not so much his, as that of the Age he liv'd in. We have Pleasures suitable to our Fortunes, let us not usurp those of Grandeur. Our own are more natural, and by so much more solid and sure, as they are more low. If not for that of Conscience, yet at least for Am∣bitions sake, let us reject Ambition, let us dis∣dain that thirst of Honour and Renown, so low and mendicant, that it makes us beg it of all sorts of People: Quae est ista laus quae pos∣sit è macello peti? What praise is that which is to be got in the Market? by abject means, and at what cheap rate soever. 'Tis dishonour to be so honour'd. Let us learn to be no more greedy, than we are capable of Honour. To be puff'd up with every Action that is inno∣cent, or of use, is only for such with whom such things are extraordinary and rare: They will value it as it costs them. How much more a good effect makes a noise, so much I abate of the goodness of it; and enter into suspition that it was more perform'd for noise, than upon the account of goodness. Being ex∣pos'd upon the stall, 'tis half sold. Those Acti∣ons have much more grace and lustre, that slip from the hand of him that does them negli∣gently,

and without noise: and that some ho∣nest man after chooses out, and raises from the shade to produce it to the light upon its own account.* 1.433 Mihi quidem laudaliora viden∣tur omnia, quae sine venditatione, & sine popu∣lo teste fiunt. All things truly seem more lauda∣ble to me, that are perform'd without ostentation, and without the testimony of the People. Says the proudest man of the World, I had no care but to conserve, and to continue, which are silent and insensible effects. Innovation is of great lustre, but 'tis interdicted in this time, when we are press'd upon, and have nothing to defend our selves from but Novelties. To forbear doing, is oft as generous as to do, but 'tis less in the light; and the little of good that I have in me is of this kind. In fine, occa∣sions in this Imployment of mine have been confederate with my Humour, and I thank them for it. Is there any one who desires to be sick that he might see his Physicians Practice? And would not that Physician deserve to be whip'd, who should wish the Plague amongst us, that he might put his Art in practice? I have never been of that wicked Humour, and common enough, to desire that the troubles and disorders of this City should elevate and honour my Government; I have ever willing∣ly contributed all I could to their tranquility and ease. He who will not thank me for the order, sweet and silent calm that has ac∣companied my Administration, cannot how∣ever deprive me of the share that belongs to

me by the title of my good Fortune. And I am of such a Composition, that I would as willingly be happy as wise; and had rather owe my suc∣cesses purely to the favour of Almighty God, than to any industry or operation of my own. I had sufficiently publish'd to the World my unfitness for such publick Offices; but I have something in me yet worse than incapacity; which is, that I am not much displeased at it, and that I do not much go about to cure it, considering the course of Life that I have pro∣pos'd to my self. Neither have I satisfied my self in this Imployment, but I have very near arrived at what I expected from my own per∣formance, and have yet much surpass'd what I promised them with whom I had to do: For I am apt to promise something less than what I am able to do, and than what I hope to make good. I assure my self that I have left no im∣pressions of Offence or Hatred behind me, and to leave a regret or desire of me amongst them. I at least know very well that I did never much affect it.

— méne huic confidere monstro,* 1.434 Méne salis placidi vultum, fluctusque quietos Ignorare?

Would'st thou I should a quiet Sea believe,* 1.435 To this inconstant monster credit give?

CHAP. XI. Of Cripples.

* 1.436'TIs now two or three years ago that they made the year ten days shorter in France. How many changes may we expect should fol∣ow this reformation! This was properly re∣moving Heaven and Earth at once; and yet nothing for all that stirs from its place: my neighbours still find their seasons of sowing and reaping, the opportunities of doing their business, with the hurtful and propitious days, just at the same time, where they had time out of mind assign'd them. There was no more er∣rour perceived in our old usance, than there is amendment found in this new alteration. So great an incertainty there is throughout; so gross, obscure, and dull is our understanding. 'Tis said, that this regulation might have been carried on with less inconvenience, by substra∣cting. according to the example of Augustus, the Bissextile, which is in some sort a day of trouble, till we had exactly satisfied that debt; which is not perform'd neither by this corre∣ction, and we yet remain some days in arrear: And yet by the same means such order might be taken for the future, ordering, that after the revolution of such a year, or such a num∣ber of years, the supernumerary day might be alwayes thrown out, so that we could not henceforward erre above four and twenty

hours in our computation. We have no other account of time but years; the World has for many Ages made use of that only, and yet it is a measure that to this day we are not agreed upon; such a one, that we still doubt what form other Nations have variously given to it, and what was the true use of it. What does this saying of some mean, that the Heavens in growing old bow themselves down nearer towards us, and put us into an uncertainty even of hours and days? And that which Plutarch says of the Months, that Astrology had not in his time determin'd of the motion of the Moon? So what a fine condition are we in to keep Records of things past. I was just now rumi∣nating, as I often do upon this, what a free and roving thing humane judgment is. I or∣dinarily see, that men, in things propos'd to them, more willingly study to find out the Reason than to find out the Truth: they slip over presuppositions, but are curious in exami∣nation of consequences. They leave the things and fly to the causes. Pleasant praters! The knowledge of Causes does only concern him who has the conduct of things, not us, who are only to undergo them, and who perfectly have full and accomplish'd use of them accor∣ding to our need, without penetrating into the Original and Essence. Neither is Wine more pleasant to him that knows its first facul∣ties. On the contrary, both the Body and the Soul alter and interrupt the right they have of the use of the World, and of themselves, by

mixing with it the Opinion of Learning. Ef∣fects concern us, but the means not at all. To determine, and to distribute appertain to su∣periority and command, as it does to subjecti∣on to accept it. Let me reprehend our Cu∣stom. They commonly begin thus: How is such a thing done? Whereas they should say, Is such a thing done? Our prattle is able to create a hundred other Worlds, and to find out the beginnings and contexture; it needs neither Matter nor Foundation. Let it but run on, it builds as well in the Air, as on the Earth; and with Inanity as well as Matter.

* 1.437dare pondus idonea fumo

I find that almost throughout we should say, there is no such thing; and should my self oft make use of this answer, but I dare not: for they cry that it is a defect produc'd from igno∣rance and weakness of Understanding. And I am forc'd for the most part to juggle for Com∣pany, and prate of frivolous and idle Subjects, that I believe ne're a word of. Besides that, in truth, 'tis a little rude and quarelling, flatly to deny a Proposition; and few People but will affirm, especially in things hard to be be∣liev'd, that they have seen them, or at least will name such Witnesses whose Authority will stop our Mouths from Contradictions. By this means we know the Foundations and Means of things that never were; and the World scuffles about a thousand Questions, of

which both the pro and the con are false.* 1.438 Ita finitima sunt falsa veris, ut praecipitem locum non debeat se sapiens committere. False things are so like the true, that a wise man should not trust himself upon the precipice. Truth and Lies are fa••'d alike, their port, taste, and proceedings are the same, and we look upon them with the same Eye. I find that we are not only remiss in defending our selves from deceit, but we seek and offer our selves to be gull'd; we love to intangle our selves in Vanity, as a thing conformable to our Being. I have seen the birth of many Miracles of my time, which al∣though they were abortive, yet have we not fail'd to fore-see what they would have come to, had they liv'd their full Age. 'Tis but finding the end of the Clue, and a man may wind off as much as he will; and there is a greater distance betwixt nothing, and the least thing in the World, than there is betwixt that and the greatest. Now the first that are imbu∣ed with this beginning of Novelty, when they set out their History, find, by oppositions they met with, where the difficulty of perswasion lies, and so caulk that place with some false piece. Besides that, In••ita hominibus libidine alendi de industria rumores, Men having a na∣tural desire to nourish Reports, we naturally make a conscience of restoring what has been lent us, without some usury and access of our substance. Particular Error, first makes the publick Error, and afterwards, in turn, the publick Error makes the particular one; so

all this vast Fabrick goes forming and con∣founding it self from hand to hand, so that the remotest Testimony is better instructed than those that are nearest; and the last in∣form'd better perswaded than the first: 'Tis a natural progress. For whoever believes any thing, thinks it a work of Charity to persuade another into the same opinion▪ Which the better to do, he will make no difficulty of adding as much of his own Invention, as he conceives necessary to encounter the resistance or want of Conception he meets with in o∣thers. I my self, who make a great conscience of lying, and am not very sollicitous of giving credit and authority to what I say, do yet find, that in the Arguments I have in hand, being heated with the opposition of another, or by the proper heat of my own narration, I swell and puff up my subject by Voice, Motion, Vi∣gour, and force of Words; and moreover, by Extention and Amplification, not without some prejudice to the naked truth: but I do it conditionally withall, that to the first who brings me to my self, and who asks me the plain and naked truth, I presently surrender my Passion, and deliver it to him without Exaggeration, without Emphasis, or any Far∣ding of my own. A quick and earnest way of Speaking, as mine is, is apt to run into Hyperbole. There is nothing to which me•• commonly are more inclin'd than to give way to their own Opinions. Where the ordinary means fail us, we add Command, Force, and

Fire, and Sword. 'Tis ill luck to be at that pass, that the best touch of Truth, must be the mul∣titude of Believers in a crowd, where the num∣ber of fools so much exceeds the wise.* 1.439 Quasi vero quidquam sit tam valde, quam nil sapere vul∣gare. Sanitatis patrocinium est, insanientium turba. As if any thing were so common as Igno∣rance. The multitude of Fools is a protection to the Wise. 'Tis hard to resolve a man's Judg∣ment against the common Opinions. The first perswasion taken from the very Subject it self possesses the simple, and from that, it diffuses it self to the wise, under the authority of the number and antiquity of the Witnesses. For my part, what I should not believe from one, I should not believe from a hundred and one; and do not judge Opinions by the years. 'Tis not long since, one of our Princes, in whom the Gout had spoil'd an excellent Nature, and spritely Disposition, suffer'd himself to be so farr perswaded with the report was made of the wonderful Operations of a certain Priest,* 1.440 that by words and gestures cur'd all sorts of Diseases, as to go a long Journey to seek him out; and by the force of his Apprehension for some time, so perswaded, and lay'd his Legs asleep, as to obtain that service from them they had a long time forgot. Had Fortune heap'd five or six such like Accidents, it had been enough to have brought this Miracle into Na∣ture. There was after discover'd so much Sim∣plicity, and so little Art in the Architecture of such Operations, that they were thought too

contemtible to be punish'd, as would be thought of most such things, were they well examin'd. Miramur ex intervallo fallentia.* 1.441 We admire at distance things that deceive. So does our sight oft represent to us strange Images at distance, that vanish in approaching near.* 1.442 Nunquam ad li∣quidum fama perducitur. Fame is never brought to be clear. 'Tis to be wonder'd at, from how many idle beginnings, and frivolous causes, such famous impressions commonly proceed. This it is that obstructs the information; for whilst we seek out the Causes, and the great and weighty ends, worthy of so great a Name, we lose the true ones. They escape our sight by their littleness: And in truth, a prudent, diligent, and subtle Inquisition is requir'd in such searches; indifferent, and not prepos∣sess'd. To this very hour all these Miracles and strange Events have conceal'd themselves from me, I have never seen greater Monster or Mi∣racle in the World than my self: a man grows familiar with all strange things by time and custom; but the more I frequent, and the bet∣ter I know my self, the more does my own deformity astonish me, and the less I under∣stand my self. The principal right of advan∣cing and producing such Accidents is reserv'd to Fortune. Riding the other day through a Village, about two leagues from my House, I found the Place yet hot with the rumour of a Miracle lately hapned there, wherewith the Neighbour-hood had been several Months amu∣sed, and so, that neighbouring Provinces began

to take the Alarm, and to run thither in great Companies of all sorts of People. A young fellow of the Town, had one night in sport counterfeited the Voice of a Spirit in his own House, without any other design at present, but only for sport; but this having succeeded with him a little better than he expected, to illustrate his Farce with more Actors, he took a stupid silly Country Girl into the Scene, and at last they were three of the same Age and Understanding, and from domestick Le∣ctures, proceeded to publick Preachings, hi∣ding themselves under the Altar of the Church, never speaking but by Night, and forbidding any light to be brought, words which tended to the Conversion of the World, and Threats of the day of Judgment (for these are subjects under the Authority and Reverence of which imposture does most securely lurk and lye conceal'd) and thence proceeding to vitious and odd Gestures, so simple and ridiculous, that nothing could hardly be so gross and con∣temptible amongst little Children: Yet had Fortune never so little favour'd the design, who knows to what height this juggling might have at last arriv'd? These poor Devils are at present in Prison, and are like shortly to pay for their Folly, and I know not whether some Judge may not also make them smart for his. We see clearly in this which is discover'd, but in many things of the like nature, that exceed our knowledge, I am of Opinion, that we ought to suspend our Judgment, and to keep

it in a Condition as fit to reject, as to receive them. Great abuse in the World is begot, or to speak more boldly, all the abuses of the World are begot by our being taught to be afraid of professing our ignorance, and that we are bound to accept all things we are not able to refute. We speak of all things by Pre∣cepts and Resolution. The Stile of Rome was, that even that which a witness depos'd for ha∣ving seen it with his own eyes, and what a Judge determin'd with his most certain know∣ledge was couch'd in this form of speaking, it seems. They make me hate things that are likely, when they impose them upon me for infallible. I love these words which mollifie and moderate the Temerity of our Propositi∣ons, peradventure, in some sort, some, 'tis said, I think, and the like: and had I been to train up Children, I had so put this way of answer∣ing into their Mouths, inquiring, and not re∣solutive, What does this mean? I understand it not, It may be, Is it true? That they should ra∣ther have retain'd the form of Pupils at three∣score years old, than to go out Doctors as they do, at ten. Whoever will be cur'd of Ignorance must confess it. Iris is the Daughter of Thaumantis. Admiration is the Foundation of all Philosophie, Inquisition the progress, and Ignorance the end. I but there is a sort of Ig∣norance strong and generous, that yields no∣thing in Honour and Courage to Knowledge; an Ignorance, which to conceive, requires no less knowledge than Knowledge it self. I saw

in my younger years, a Report of a process that C••rras a Counsellor of Thoulouse put out in print, of a strange accident of two men, who presented themselves the one for the other. I remember (and I hardly remember any thing else) that he seem'd to have render'd the im∣posture of him whom he judg'd to be guilty, so wonderful, and so far exceeding both our Knowledge and his own, who was the Judge, that I thought it a very bold Sentence that condemn'd him to be hang'd. Let us take up some form of Arrest, that says, The Court un∣derstands nothing of the matter; more freely and ingeniously than the Areopagites did, who finding themselves perplex'd with a Cause they could not unravel, order'd the Parties to ap∣pear again after a hundred years. The Witches of my Neighbourhood run a hazard of their lives upon the intelligence of every new Au∣thor that will give real body to his Dreams. To accommodate the Examples that Holy Writ gives us of such things, most certain, and irre∣fragable Examples, and to tye them to our modern Events, being we neither see the Cau∣ses, nor the means, will require another sort of Wit than ours. It peradventure only appertains to that sole all polert Testimony, to tell us, This is, and that is, and not that other. God ought to be believ'd, and certainly with very good Reason; but not one amongst us for all that, who is astonish'd at his own Narration, (and he must of necessity be astonish'd, if he be not out of his Wits) whether he imploy it

about other mens affairs, or against himself. I am plain and rude, and stick to the main point, and that which is most likely, avoiding those antient reproaches.* 1.443 Majorem fidem homines adhibent iis quae non intelligunt. Cupidine hu∣mani ingenii libentius obscura creduntur. Men are most apt to believe what they least under∣stand: and through the lust of humane Wit, ob∣scure things are more easily credited. I see very well that men are angry, and that I am for∣bidden to doubt upon pain of execrable In∣juries. A new way of perswading Mercy for Gods sake. I am not to be cuff'd into belief. Let them be angry with those who accuse their Opinion of falsity, I only accuse it of difficul∣ty and boldness; and condemn the opposite affirmation equally, if not so imperiously with them. Who will establish his Discourse by au∣thority and huffing, discovers his Reason to be very weak. For a verbal and scholastick alte∣ration, let them have as much apparence as their Contradictors.* 1.444 Videantur sanè, non affirmentur modo. But in the real consequence they draw from it, these have much the advantage. To kill men, a clear and shining light is requir'd; and our life is too real and essential to war∣rant these supernatural and fantastick Accidents. As to Druggs and Poysons, I throw them out of my count, as being the worst sorts of homi∣cides: yet even in this, 'tis said, that men are not always to insist upon the proper confessi∣ons of these People: for they have sometimes been known to accuse themselves of the Mur∣ther

of Persons who have afterwards been found living and well. In these other extra∣vagant accusations, I should be apt to say, that it is sufficient a man, what recommendation soever he may have, be believed in humane things; but of what is beyond his Concepti∣on, and of supernatural effect, he ought then only to be believ'd, when authoriz'd by a su∣pernatural Approbation. The priviledge it has pleas'd Almighty God to give to some of our Witnesses, ought not to be lightly communi∣cated and made cheap. I have my Ears batter'd with a thousand such flim-flams as these. Three saw him such a day in the East, three the next day in the West; at such an hour, in such a place, and in such habit; in earnest, I should not be∣lieve my self. How much more natural and like∣ly do I find it that two men should lye, than that one man in twelve hours time should fly with the wind from East to West? How much more natural, that our Understanding should be carried from its place by the volubility of our disorder'd Minds, than this, that one of us should be carried by a strong Spirit upon a Broom-staff, Flesh and Bones as we are, up the shaft of a Chimney? Let not us seek illu∣sions from without and unknown, who are perpetually agitated with illusions domestick and our own. Methinks a man is pardonable in disbelieving a Miracle, as much at least as he can divert and elude the verification by no wonderful ways. And I am of St. Augustine's Opinion; that 'tis better to lean towards

doubt than assurance, in things hard to prove, and dangerous to believe. 'Tis now some years ago, that I travell'd through the Territories of a Sovereign Prince, who in my favour, and to abate my incredulity, did me the honour to let me see in his own presence, and in a par∣ticular place, ten or twelve prisoners of this kind, and amongst others, an old Hag, a real Witch, in foulness and deformity, who long had been famous in that Profession. I saw both proofs and free confessions, and I know not what insensible mark upon the miserable Crea∣ture:* 1.445 I examin'd and talk'd with her and the rest as much and as long as I would, and made the best and soundest Observations I could, neither am I a man to suffer my Judgment to be captivated by prepossession; and in the end, should in Conscience sooner have prescrib'd them Hellebore than Hemlock.* 1.446 Captisque res m••∣gis mentibus, quam consceleratis similis visa. The thing was rather to be attributed to madness than malice. Justice has correction proper for such Maladies. As to the Oppositions and Argu∣ments that honest men have made me, both there and oft in other places; I have met with none that have convinc'd me, and that have not admitted a more likely solution than their conclusions. It is true indeed, that the Proof and Reasons that are founded upon Experi∣ence and matter of Fact, I do not go about to untye, neither have they any end; I often cut them, as Alexander did the Gordian knot. After all, 'tis setting a man's Conjectures at a

very high price, upon them to cause a man to be roasted alive. We are told by several Ex∣amples, (and particularly Praestantius, of his Father) that being more profoundly asleep than men usually are, he fancied himself to be a Mare, and that he serv'd the Souldiers for a Sumpter; and what he fancied himself to be, he really prov'd. If Sorcerers dream so mate∣rially; if dreams can sometimes so incorpo∣rate themselves with effects, I cannot believe that therefore our Wills should be accounta∣ble to Justice; which I say, as a man, who am neither Judge nor Privy-Counsellor; and that think my self by many degrees unworthy so to be, but a man of the common sort born, and vow'd to the obedience of the publick Reason, both in its words and acts. He that should record my idle talk to the prejudice of the most paltry Law, Opinion, or Custom of his Parish, would do himself a great deal of wrong, and me much more. For in what I say, I warrant no other certainty, but that 'tis what I had then in my Thought. Tumultuous and wavering Thought. All I say is by way of Discourse, and nothing by way of Advice. Nec me pudet, ut istos, fateri nescire,* 1.447 quod nesci∣am. Neither am I asham'd, as they are, to con∣fess my ignorance of what I do not know. I should not speak so boldly, if it were my due to be believ'd. And so I told a great man, who complain'd of the tartness and contension of my Advices. Perceiving you to be ready, and prepar'd on one part, I propose to you

the other, with all the diligence and care I can, to clear your Judgment, not to oblige it. God has your Hearts in his hands, and will furnish you with choice. I am not so presump∣tuous so much as to desire that my Opinions should so much as incline you to a thing of so great Importance. My Fortune has not train'd them up to so potent and elevated Conclusi∣ons. Truly I have not only a great many Hu∣mours, but also a great many Opinions, that I would endeavour to make my Son dislike, if I had one. What? if the truest are not always the most commodious to man, being of too wild a Composition: Whether it be to the purpose, or not, 'tis no great matter. 'Tis a common Proverb in Italy, that he knows not Venus in her perfect sweetness, who has never lain with a lame Mistress. Fortune, or some particular Accident, has long ago put this Say∣ing into the mouths of the People; and the same is said of men as well as of Women; for the Queen of Amazons answer'd the Scythian, who courted her to love, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Lame men perform best.* 1.448 In this Feminine Repub∣lick, to evade the dominion of the Males, they lam'd them in their infancy, both Arms, Legs, and other Members, that gave them advantage over them, and only made use of them in that wherein we in the other Parts of the World make use of them. I should have been apt to think, that the shuffling pace of the lame Mi∣stress added some new Pleasure to the work, and some extraordinary titillation to those

who were at the sport; but that I have lately learnt, that ancient Philosophy has it self deter∣min'd it, which says, that the Legs and Thighs of lame Women, not receiving, by the reason of their imperfection, their due aliment, it falls out, that the genital Parts above, are fuller and better supplied, and much more vigo∣rous. Or else, that this defect hindring the Ex∣ercise, they who are ingag'd in it, less disperse th••ir forces, and come more intire to the sports of Venus. Which also is the Reason why the Greeks decryed the Women-weavers,* 1.449 as being more hot than other Women, by reason of their sedentary Trade; which they do with∣out any great motion or exercise of the bo∣dy. What is it we may not reason of at this rate? I might also say of these, that this jog∣ging their Breeches, whilst so sitting at work, rouzes and provokes their desire, as the swin∣ging and jolting of Coaches does that of our Ladies. Do not these Examples serve to make good what I said at first, that our Reasons of∣ten anticipate the Effect, and have so infinite an extent of Jurisdiction, that they judge and exercise themselves, even in Inanity, and where there is no Being? Besides the flexibility of our invention to forge Reasons of all sorts of Dreams, our Imagination is equally facile to re∣ceive impressions of falsity, by very frivolous Ap∣parences. For, by the sole authority of the anci∣ent and common Use of this Proverb, I have for∣merly made my self believe, that I have had more Pleasure in a Woman by reason she was not

strait, and accordingly reckoned that defor∣mity amongst her Graces. Torquato Tasso, in his comparison he makes betwixt France and Italy,* 1.450 says, he has observ'd, that our Legs are generally smaller than those of the Italian Gen∣tlemen; and attributes the cause of it to our being continually on Horse-back. Which is the very same from which Suetonius draws a quite contrary Conclusion; for he says on the contrary, that Germanicus had made his Legs bigger by the continuation of the same Exer∣cise. Nothing is so supple and wandring as our Understanding. 'Tis like the shoe of The∣ramenez,* 1.451 fit for all feet. 'Tis double and vari∣ous, and the matters are double and diverse too. Give me a Drachm of Silver, said a Cy∣nick Philosopher to Antigonus; that is not a Present befitting a King, reply'd he; give me then a Talent, said the other; that is not a Present befitting a Cynick.

* 1.452Seu plures calor ille vias, & caeca relaxat Spiramenta novas veniat qua succus in herbas: Seu durat magis, & venas astringit hiantes, Ne tenues pluviae rapidive potentia solis Acrior, aut Boreae penetrabile frigus adurat.

* 1.453Whether from this new force and nourishment The Earth receives, or else all venom spent By fire, and froth superfluous moisture sweat, Or many dark hid breathings lax'd by heat, By which fresh sap the springing Corn sustains, Or more condens'd it binds the gaping Veins,

Lest soaking show'rs, or Sol's more potent Beam, Or Boreas piercing cold should wither them.

Ogni medaglia ha il suo reverso. Every Medal has its reserve. This is the reason why Clito∣mucus said of old, that Carneades had out-done the Labours of Hercules, in having fixt the con∣sent of men, that is to say, their Opinion, and the Liberty of judging. This so strong fan∣cy of Carneades, sprung in my Opinion anci∣ently from the impudence of those who made Profession of Knowledge, and their immeasu∣rable self-conceit. Esop was set to sale with two other Slaves, the buyer ask'd the first what he could do; who, to enhance his own value, promis'd Mountains and Miracles, saying, he could do this, and that, and I know not what; the second as much of himself, and more: when it came to Esop's turn, and that he was also ask'd what he could do, nothing, said he, for these two have taken up all before me, they can do every thing. So has it hapned in the School of Philosophy: The pride of those who attributed the Capacity of all things to humane Wit, created in others, out of spite and Emu∣lation, this Opinion, that it is capable of no∣thing. The one maintain the same extream in Ignorance that the others do in Knowledge. To make it undeniably manifest that man is immoderate throughout, can give no other po∣sitive sentence but that of Necessity, and the want of Ability to proceed further.

CHAP. XII. Of Physiognomy.

ALmost all the Opinions we have are de∣riv'd from Authority, and taken upon trust; and 'tis not amiss. We could not choose worse than by our selves in so weak an Age. This Image of Socrates his Discourses, which his Friends have transmitted to us, we approve upon no other account, but merely the reve∣rence to publick Approbation. 'Tis not ac∣cording to our own knowledge, they are not after our way. If any thing of this kind should spring up new, few men would value them. We discern not the graces otherwise than by certain features, touch'd up, and illu∣strated by Art. Such as glide on in their own Purity and Simplicity, easily escape so gross a sight as ours; they have a delicate and con∣ceal'd Beauty, such as requir'd a clear and pu∣rified sight to discover so secret a light. Is not Simplicity, as we accept it, Cosin-german to Folly, and a Quality of reproach? Socrates makes his Soul move a natural and common motion. A country Peasant said this, a Woman said that, he has never any thing in his Mouth, but Carters, Joiners, Coblers, and Masons. These are inductions and similitudes drawn from the most common and known Actions of men, every one understands them. We should ne∣ver have entertain'd the Nobility and Splen∣dor

of his admirable Conceptions under so vile a form; we, I say, who think all things low and flat, that are not elevated by Learn∣ing, and who discern no riches but in pomp and shew. This World of ours is only form'd for Ostentation. Men are only puffd up with Wind, and are bandied too and fro like Ten∣nis-Balls. This man proposes to himself no vain and idle Fancies, his design was to fur∣nish us with Precepts and things that more really and fitly serve to the use of Life:

servare modum, finemque tenere,* 1.454 Naturamque sequi

To keep a mean, his end still to observe, And from the Laws of Nature ne're to swerve.

He was also always one and the same, and rais'd himself not by starts, but by complexion, to the highest pitch of vigour; or to say bet∣ter, he exalted nothing, but rather brought down, and reduc'd all asperities and difficulties to their original and natural Condition, and subjected their power: for in Cato 'tis most manifest, that there is a proceeding extended far beyond the common ways of ordinary men. In the brave exploits of his Life, and in his Death, we find him always mounted upon his manag'd Horses. Whereas this man always creeps upon the ground, and with a slow and ordinary pace, treats of the most usefull Dis∣courses, and bears himself through both at his

Death, and the nicest traverses that would present themselves in the course of humane Life. It has fallen out well, that the man most worthy to be known, and to be presented to the World for Example, should be he of whom we have the most certain knowledge; he has been pry'd into by the most clear-sighted men that ever were. The Testimonies we have of him are admirable both in Fidelity and Know∣ledge. 'Tis a great thing that he was able so to order the pure Imaginations of a Child, that without altering, or wresting them, he has thereby produc'd the most beautiful effects of a humane Soul. He presents it not either ele∣vated or rich, he only represents it sound, but certainly with a brisk and spritely Health. By these common and natural Springs, by these vulgar and ordinary Fancies, without being mov'd, or making any bustle in the Busines••▪ he set up, not only the most regular, but the most high and vigorous Beliefs, Actions, and Manners that ever were. 'Tis he who brought again from Heaven, where she lost her time, humane Wisdom, to restore her to man, where∣in her most just and greatest business lies. See him plead before his Judges, do but obser••e by what reasons he rouzes his Courage to the hazards of War; with what Arguments he for∣tifies his Patience against Calumny, Tyranny, Death, and the perverseness of his Wife: you will find nothing in all this borrow'd from Arts and Sciences. The simplest may there dis∣cover their own means and power; 'tis not

possible more to retire, or to creep more low. He has done humane Nature a great kindness in shewing it how much it can do of it self. We are all of us richer than we think we are; but we are taught to borrow and to beg, and brought up more to make use of what is anothers than our own. Man can in nothing fix and conform himself to his meer Necessity. Of Pleasure, Wealth, and Power, he grasps at more than he can hold; his greediness is in∣capable of moderation. And I find that in cu∣riositioy of knowing he is the same; ••e cuts himself out more work than he can do, and more than he needs to do: Extending the uti∣tility of knowledge as far as the matter.* 1.455 Vt omnium rerum, sic literarum quoque, intemperan∣ti•• laboramus. That, as of every thing else, we should also be sick of the intemperance of Letters. And Tacitus has reason to commend the Mo∣ther of Agricola, for having restrain'd her Son in his too violent appetite of learning. 'Tis a good, if duly consider'd, which has in it, as the other goods of men have, a great deal of vani∣ty, and of proper and natural weakness, and that costs very dear; the acquisition of it is more hazardous than that of all other meat or drink. For in other things, what we have bought we carry home in some vessel, and there have liberty to examine our markets, how much it costs, and what 'tis worth, ac∣cording to the Season: but Sciences we can at the very first bestow into no other vessel than the Soul; we swallow them in buying,

and return from the market, either already in∣fected or amended. There are of such sorts as only burthen and over-charge the Stomach in∣stead of nourishing; and moreover, some, that under colour of curing, poyson us. I have been pleas'd, in place where I have been, to see men in Devotion vow Ignorance as well as Chasti∣ty, Poverty, and Penitence. 'Tis also a gelding of our unruly Appetites, to blunt this cupidity that spurs us on to the study of Books, and to deprive the Soul of this voluptuous compla∣cency, that tickles us with the Opinion of Knowledge. And 'tis plenarily to accomplish the Vow of Poverty to add unto it that of the Mind. We need not be taught to live at our ease. And Socrates tells us, that it is in us, with the way how to find it, and the manner how to use it. All these Acquisitions of ours, which exceed our natural ones, are upon the matter superfluous and vain. 'Tis much if they do not more burthen and cumber us than they do us good. Paucis opus est literis ad mente•• bonam.* 1.456 A man of good natural Parts, and a good Disposition, has no great need of Learning. 'Tis a feverish excess of the Mind; a tempe∣stuous and unquiet Instrument. Do but recol∣lect your self, and you will find in your self natural Arguments against Death, which are true, and more proper, and fit to serve you in time of necessity. 'Tis they that make a Pea∣sant, and an intire People dye with as much constancy as a Philosopher. Should I have died less cheerfully before I had read Cicero's Thus∣culanes?

I believe not. And when I find my self at the best, I perceive that my Tongue is inrich'd indeed, but my Courage little or no∣thing elevated by them. It is just as Nature forg'd it at first, and against any conflict only defends it self after a natural and ordinary way. Books have not so much serv'd me for Instruction as Exercise. What if Knowledge, trying to arm us with new defences against natural Inconveniences, has more imprinted in our fancies their weight and grandeur, than her reasons and subtilties to secure us from them? They are subtilties indeed, with which she oft alarms us to little purpose. Do but ob∣serve, how many slight and frivolous, and if neerly examin'd, how many incorporeal Ar∣guments the closest and wisest Authors scatter about one good one. They are no other but quirks and fallacies to amuse and gull us. But for as much as it may be with some profit, I will sift it no further. Many of that sort are here and there disperst up and down this Trea∣tise, either upon borrowing, or by imitation; therefore ought a man to take a little heed, not to call that force which is only a knack of writing, and that solid, which is only quick, or that good, which is only fine.* 1.457 Quae magis gustata quam potata delectant; Which more de∣light in tasting, than in being drank off. Every thing that pleases does not nourish.* 1.458 Vbi non ingenii sed animi negotium agitur. Where the question is not about improving the Wit, but bet∣tering the Vnderstanding. To see the bustle

that Seneca keeps to fortifie himself against Death, to see him so sweat and pant to harden and encourage himself, and bate so long upon the Perch, would have lessen'd his Reputation with me, had he not very bravely maintain'd it to the last. His so ardent and frequent agi∣tations discover that he was in himself impe∣tuous and passionate. Magnus animus remis∣sius loquitur▪* 1.459 & securius: Non est alius ingenis, alius animo color. A great courage speaks more negligently and more securely. The Wit and Cou∣rage wear one and the same Livery. He must be convinc'd at his own expence. And he does in some sort discover that he was hard laid to by his Enemy. Plutarch's way, by how much it is more disdainful, and farther stretch'd, is, in my opinion, so much more manly and per∣suasive: and I am apt to believe, that his Soul had more assur'd and more regular motions. The one more sharp, pricks and makes us start, and more touches the Soul; the other more solid, informs, establishes, constantly supports us, and more touches the Understanding. That ravishes the Judgment, this wins it. I have likewise seen other Writings yet more reve∣renc'd than these, that in the representation of the conflict they maintain against the Tempta∣tions of the flesh, depaint them so sharp, so powerful and invincible, that we our selves, who are of the meaner sort of the People, are as much to wonder at the strangeness and un∣known force of their temptation, as at their resistance. To what end do we so arm our

selves with this harness of Philosophy? Let us look down upon the poor People that we see scatter'd upon the face of the Earth, prone and intent upon their Business, that neither know Aristotle, nor Cato, Example, nor Pre∣cept. Even from these does Nature every day extract effects of Constancy and Patience, more pure and manly than those we so inquisitively study in the Schools. How many do I ordina∣rily see, who slight Poverty? how many that desire to dye, or that do it without alarm or regret? He that is now digging in my Garden, has this Morning buried his Father, or his Son. The very names by which they call Diseases, sweeten and mollifie the sharpness of them. The Tissick is with them no more but a Cough, the Bloody-flux but a looseness, a Pleurisie but a stich, and, as they gently name them, so they patiently endure them. They are very great and grievous indeed, when they hinder their ordinary Labour; and they never keep their Beds, but to dye. Simplex illa,* 1.460 & aperta vir∣tus in obscuram, & solertem scientiam versa est. That plain and simple Virtue is converted into an obscure and cunning Knowledge. I was wri∣ting this about a time when a great load of our intestine troubles for several Months lay with all its weight upon me. I had the Enemy at my Door on one side, and the free-booters, worse Enemies than they, on the other;* 1.461 Non armis, sed vitiis, certatur; and underwent all sorts of Military Injuries at once.

* 1.462Hostis adest dextra laevaque à parte timendus, Vicinoque malo terret utrumque latus.

On either hand an Enemy alarms, And threatens both sides with injurious arms.

A monstrous War! Other Wars are bent against Strangers, this against it self; and destroys it self with its own Poyson. 'Tis of so malignant and ruinous a nature, that it ruines it self with the rest; and with its own rage mangles and tears it self to pieces. We ofter see it dissolve of it self, than thorough scarcity of any ne∣cessary thing, or by force of the Enemy. All Discipline evades it. It comes to compose Se∣dition, and is it self full of it; Will chastize Disobedience, and it self is the Example; and, employ'd for the defence of the Laws, rebells against those of our own. What a Condition are we in? Our Physick makes us sick.

* 1.463Notre mal s'empoisonne Du secours qu'on luy donne.

Such is our fate, that our Disease Our Remedies do still increase.

* 1.464exuperat magis, aegrescitque medendo.

His Physick makes him worse, and sicker still.

* 1.465Omnia fanda nefanda malo permista furore, Justificam nobis mentem avertêre Deorum.

Right and wrong, shuffled in this Civil War, Have rob'd us of the Gods protecting care.

In the beginning of Popular Maladies, a man may distinguish the sound from the sick; but when they come to continue, as ours have done, the whole body is then infected from head to foot, and no part is free from Corruption. For there is no Air that men so greedily draw in, that diffuses it self so soon, and that penetrates so deep as that of Licence. Our Armies only subsist, and are kept together by the cement of Strangers; for of French there is now no con∣stant and regular Body of an Army to be made. What a shame it is? there is no more Disci∣pline but what we learn from borrow'd Soul∣diers. As to us our selves, our Conduct is at discretion, and not of the Chief, but every one at his own; the General has a harder game to play within than he has without: In the Word of Command to march, draw up, wheel, and the like, we obey him indeed; but all the rest is dissolute and free. It pleases me to ob∣serve how much Pusillanimity and Cowardise there is in Ambition; by how abject and ser∣vile ways it must arrive at its end, but withall, it displeases me to see good and generous Na∣tures, and that are capable of Justice, every day corrupted in the managery and command of this Confusion. Long toleration begets habit, habit consent and imitation. We had ill con∣triv'd Souls enow, without spoyling those that were generous and good; so that if we hold

on, there will not remain any with whom to intrust the health of this State of ours, in case Fortune chance to restore it.

* 1.466Hunc saltem everso juvenem succurrere seclo, Ne prohibete —

* 1.467Ah! for young Caesar now your selves engage, That he again repair this ruin'd Age.

What is become of the old Precept, That Soul∣diers ought more to fear their Chief, than the Enemy?* 1.468 And that wonderful Example, that an Orchard being inclos'd within the precincts of a Camp of the Roman Army, was seen at their dislodgment the next day in the same con∣dition, not an Apple, though ripe and delicate, being pull'd off, but all left to the Possessor? I could wish that our Youth, instead of the time they spend in less fruitful Travels, and less honourable Imployments, would bestow one half of that time in being an Eye-witness of Naval Exploits, under some good Captain of Malta, and the other half in observing the Discipline of the Turkish Armies; for they have many differences and advantages over ours. One thing is, that our Souldiers here become more licentious in Expeditions, there more temperate and circumspect. For the thefts and insolencies committed upon the common Peo∣ple, which are only punish'd with a Cudgel in Peace, are capital in War. For an Egg taken in Turkey without paying for't, fifty blows

with a Cudgel is the prefixt rate; for any thing else, of what sort, or how trivial soever, not necessary to nourishment, they are present∣ly empall'd, or beheaded without mercy. I am astonish'd, in the History of Selim, the most cruel Conquerour that ever was, to see that when he subdu'd Egypt, the beautiful Gardens about Damas being all open, and in a con∣quer'd Land, and his Army encamp'd upon the very place, should be left untouch'd by the hands of the Souldiers, by reason they had not receiv'd the signal of Plunder. But is there any Disease in a Government so important, as ought to be physick'd with such a mortal Drugg? No, said Favonius, not so much as the tyrannical Usurpation of a Common-Wealth. Plato likewise will not consent that a man should violate the Peace of the Country to cure it; and by no means approves of a Re∣formation that disturbs and hazards all, and that is to be purchas'd at the price of the Citi∣zens blood and ruin; determining it to be the duty of a good Patriot in such a case to let it alone, and only to pray to God for his extra∣ordinary Assistance: And seems to be angry with his great Friend Dion, for having pro∣ceeded something after another manner. I was a Platonick in this point, before I knew there had ever been such a man as Plato in the World. And if this Person ought absolutely to be re∣jected from our Society; (he who by the sin∣cerity of his Conscience, merited from the Di∣vine favour to penetrate so far into the Chri∣stian

light, thorough the universal darkness, wherein the World was involv'd in his time) I do not think it would well become us to suffer our selves to be instructed by a Heathen▪ how great an Impiety it is not to expect from God any relief simply his own, and without our Co-operation. I often doubt, whether amongst so many men as tamper in such affairs, there is not to be found some one of so weak Understanding as to have been really perswa∣ded that he went towards Reformation by the worst of Deformations, and advanc'd towards his Salvation by the most express causes that we have of most assured Damnation; that by overthrowing Government, Magistracy, and Laws, in whose protection God has plac'd him, by inspiring fraternal Minds with parricidal Animosities, and by calling Devils and Furies to his aid, he can assist the most holy sweet∣ness and Justice of the divine Law. Ambition, Avarice, Cruelty, and Revenge, have not sufficient, proper, and natural Impetuosity of their own, let us bait them with the glorious titles of Justice and Devotion. There cannot a worse estate of things be imagin'd, than where wickedness comes to be legitimate, and assumes, with the Magistrates permission, the cloak of Vertue. Nihil in speci∣em fallacius, quam prava religio, ubi deorum nu∣men praetenditur sceleribus. Nothing has a more deceiving face than false Religion, where devo∣tion is pretended by wicked men. The extream∣est sort of Injustice, according to Plato, is, that that which is unjust should be reputed for just.

The common People suffered therein very much then, not present dammages only;

— undique totis Vsque adeo turbatur agris,* 1.469 —

but future too. The living were to suffer, and so were they who were yet unborn. They rob'd and stript them, and consequently they did me, even to their hope; taking from them all they had laid up in store to live on for many years.

Quae nequeunt secum ferre aut abducere, perdunt,* 1.470 Et cremat insontes turba scelesta casus Muris nulla fides, squallent populatibus agri.

What they can't bear away, they spoil and spurn, And lewd Rabble harmless houses burn; Walls can't secure their Masters, and the field Through waste and spoil does an ill prospect yield.

Besides this shock I suffer'd others. I under∣went the inconveniences that moderation brings along with it in such a Disease. I was pill'd on all hands, to the Gibelin I was a Guelph, and to the Guelph a Gibelin; some one of the Poets in my Study expresses this very well, but I know not where it is. The scituation of my House, and my friendliness to my Neighbours, presented me with one face, my Life and my Actions with another. They did not lay form'd accusations to my charge, for they had no

foundation of so doing. I never slink, nor hide my head from the Laws, and whoever would have question'd me, would have done himself a greater prejudice than me. They were only mute suspitions that were whisper'd about, which never want apparence in so confus'd a mixture, no more than envious or idle heads. I commonly my self lend a hand to presump∣tuous injuries that Fortune scatters abroad against me, by a way I have ever had of eva∣ding to justifie, excuse, or explain my self, con∣ceiving, that it were to referr my Conscience to arbitration, to plead in its behalf; Perspi∣cuitas enim, Argumentatione elevatur. For the Perspicuity of a cause is clouded and darken'd by Argumentation. And, as if every one saw as clearly into me as I do my self, instead of re∣tiring from an accusation, I step up to meet it, and rather give it some kind of colour by an ironical and scoffing confession, if I do not fit totally mute, as of a thing not worth my an∣swer. But such as look upon this kind of be∣haviour of mine as too haughty a Confidence, have as little kindness for me as they who in∣terpret it the weakness of an indefensible cause; namely, the great ones, towards whom want of submission is a very great fault. Rude to all Justice that knows and feels it self, and is not submiss, humble, and suppliant. I have oft knock'd my head against this Pillar. So it is, that at what then befell me an ambitious man would have hang'd himself, and a covetous man would have done the same. I have no manner of care of getting.

Sit mihi quod nuno est etiam minus,* 1.471 ut mihi viv••m Quod superest ••vi, si quid superesse volent Dii.

I only pray that small estate which I* 1.472 Now have, may tarry with me till I dye, And those few days which I have yet to live (If Heaven to me any more days will give) I may enjoy my self.

But the losses that befell me by the injury of others, whether by theft or violence, go al∣most as near my heart, as they would do to that of the most avaricious man. The offence troubles me, without comparison, more than the loss. A thousand several sorts of mischiefs fell upon me in the neck of one another; I could better have born them all at once. I have already been considering to whom amongst my Friends I might commit a helpless and de∣crepid Age; and having turn'd my Eyes quite round, I found my self at a loss. To let a man's self fall plum down, and from so great a height, it ought to be in the arms of a solid, vigorous, and fortunate Friendship. They are very rare, if there be any. At last I concluded that it was safest for me to trust to my self in my greatest Necessity, and if it should so fall out, that I should be but upon cold terms in Fortunes fa∣vour, I should so much more pressingly re∣commend me to my own, and look so much the better to my self. Men on all occasions throw themselves upon foreign Assistances to spare their own, which are the only certain

and sufficient ones with which they can arm themselves. Every one runs elsewhere, and to the future, forasmuch as no one is arriv'd at himself. And I was satisfied, that they were profitable Inconveniencies, forasmuch as ill Scholars are to be admonish'd▪ with the Rod, when Reason will not do, as a crooked piece of Wood is by fire and straining to be reduc'd to straightness. I have a great while preach'd to my self to stick close to my own Concerns, and separate my self from the affairs of others; yet I am still turning my Eyes aside. A bow, a kind word or look from a great Person tempts me; of which God knows how little scarcity there is in these days, and how little they sig∣nifie. I moreover, without wrinkling my fore∣head, hearken to the perswasions are offer'd me, to draw me into some place of Traffick, and so gently refuse it, as if I were half willing to be overcome. Now to so indocile a spirit blows are requir'd, and this Vessel which thus chops and cleaves, and is ready to fall one piece from another, is to have the hoops forc'd down with good sound stroaks of a Mallet. Secondly, that this accident serv'd me for Exercise to prepare me for worse, if I, who both by the benefit of Fortune, and by the condition of my Manners, hop'd to be the last, should hap∣pen to be one of the first should be trapt in this storm. Instructing my self betimes, to force my Life, and fit it for a new Estate. The true liberty is to be able to do what a man will with himself.* 1.473 Potentissimus est qui se habet in potestate.

He is most potent, who has himself in his own Power. In an ordinary and quiet time, a man prepares himself for moderate and common ac∣cidents; but in the Confusion wherein we have been for these thirty years, every French-man, whether in particular or in general, sees himself every hour upon the point of the total ruin and overthrow of his Fortune. By so much the more ought he to have his Courage munited with the strongest and most vigorous Provisi∣ons. Let us thank Fortune, that has not made us live in an effeminate, idle, and languishing Age; some who could never have been so by other means, will be made famous by their misfortunes. As I seldom read in Histories the confusions of other States without regret that I was not present, better to consider them; so does my curiosity make me in some sort please my self with seeing with my own eyes this no∣table spectacle of our publick Death, its form and symptoms. And seeing I could not hinder it, am content to be destin'd to assist in it, and thereby to instruct my self. Thus do we mani∣festly covet to see, though but in Shadow▪ and the Fables of Theaters, the pomp of Tragick representations of humane Fortune. 'Tis not however without compassion of what we hear, but we please our selves in rouzing our dis∣pleasure by the rarity of these to be pitied Events. Nothing tickles that does not pinch. And good Historians skip over, as a stagnant Water and dead Sea, calm Narrations, to be again upon the Narrative of Wars and Sediti∣ons,

which they know are most acceptable to the Readers. I question whether or no I can handsomly confess at how mean and vile a rate of Repose and Tranquility I have pass'd over above the one half of my Life in the rui•• of my Country. I make my self a little to•• good a bargain of Patience, in accidents that do not so much regard what they take from me, as what remains safe, both within and with∣out. There is comfort in evading, one while one, another while another, of those evils that are levell'd at me too at last, but at present hurt others only about us; as also, that in mat∣ters of publick Interest, the more my affection is universally dispers'd, the weaker it is. To which may be added, that it is half true. Tan∣tum ex publicis malis sentimus, quantum ad pri∣vatas res pertinet. We are only so far sensible of publick Evils, as they respect our private Affairs. And that the Health from which we fell was such, that it self consolates the regret we ought to have. It was Health, but not otherwise than in comparison of the Sickness that has succeed∣ed it. We are not fall'n from any great height. The corruption and thievery which is in Dig∣nity and Office, seems the most insupportable to me. We are less injuriously rifled in a Wood than in a place of security. It was an univer∣sal Juncture of particular Members, rotten to emulation of one another, and the most of them with inveterate Ulcers, that neither requir'd nor admitted of any Cure. This conclusion therefore did really more animate than press

me by the assistance of my Conscience, which was not only at peace within it self, but ele∣vated, and I did not find any reason to com∣plain of my self. Also, as God never sends Evils any more than Goods, absolutely pure to men, my Health continued at that time more than usually good; and, as I can do nothing with∣out it, there are few things that I cannot do with it. It afforded me means to rouze up all my provisions, and to lay my hand before the wound, that would else peradventure have gone farther, and experimented in my Patience, that I had some opposition against Fortune; and that it must be a great shock could throw me out of the Saddle. I do not say this to pro∣voke her to give me a more vigorous Charge; I am her humble Servant, and submit to her pleasure. Let her be no other towards me than she has used to be in God's Name. Do you ask if I am sensible of her Assaults? Yes, certainly I am. But, as those who are possess'd and op∣press'd with sorrow, may sometimes suffer them∣selves nevertheless by intervals to taste a little Pleasure, and are sometimes surpriz'd with a Smile. So have I so much power over my self, as to make my ordinary Condition quiet, and free from disturbing Thoughts; but I suffer my self withall by fits to be surpriz'd with the stings of those unpleasing imaginations that as∣sault me, whilst I am arming my self to drive them away, or at least, to wrestle with them. But behold another aggravation of the evil which befell me in the taile of the rest. I am

both without doors and within assaulted with a most violent Plague in comparison of all other. For, as sound bodies are subject to more grievous Maladies, forasmuch as they are not to be forc'd but by such, so my very health∣full Air, where no contagion, though very near, in the memory of man, could ever take footing, coming to be corrupted, produc'd most strange Effects.

* 1.474Mista senum, & juvenum densantur funera, nullum Saeva caput Proserpina fugit.

* 1.475In death, both young and old by heaps do join, Nor any Head escapes sad Proserpine.

I was to suffer this pleasant Condition, that the sight of my House was frightful to me. Whatever I had there was without Guard, and left to the mercy of every one. I my self, who am of so hospitable a Nature, was my self, i•• very great distress for a Retreat for my Fami∣ly. A wild and scatter'd Family, frightful both to its Friends and self, and filling every Place with horror where it did attempt to settle; being to shift abode so soon as any ones sin∣ger began but to ake. All Diseases are then concluded to be the Plague, and People do not stay to examine and be sure whether they are it or no. And the mischief on't is, that accor∣ding to the Rules of Art, in every danger that a man comes near, he must undergo a Quaran∣tine in the suspence of his Infirmity; your ima∣gination

all that while tormenting you at plea∣sure, and turning even your Health it self into a Feaver; yet would not at all this have gon very near to my Heart; had I not withall been compell'd to be sensible of others sufferings, and miserably to serve six Months together for a Guide to this Caravanne: For I carry my Antidotes within my self, which are Reso∣lution and Patience. Apprehension, which is particularly fear'd in this Disease, does not so much trouble me. And, if being alone, I should have taken it, it had been a more spritely, and a longer flight. 'Tis a kind of death, that I do not think of the worst sort; 'tis common∣ly short, stupid, without pain, and consolated by the publick condition; without ceremony, without mourning, and without a crowd. But as to the People about us, the hundredth part of them could not be sav'd.

— videas desertaque regna* 1.476 Pastorum, & longè saltus lateque vacantes.

Deserted Realms now may'st thou see of Swains* 1.477 And every where forsaken Groves and Plains.

In this place my best Revenue is manual.* 1.478 What an hundred men plow'd for me, lay a long time fallow. But then what example of resolution did we not see in the simplicity of all this People? Every one generally renounc'd all care of Life. The Grapes, the principal Re∣venue of the Country, hung in clusters upon

the Vines, every one indifferently preparing for, and expecting Death, either to Night, or to Morrow, with a Countenance and Voice so far from fear, as if they had contracted with Death in this Necessity, and that it had been an universal and inevitable Sentence. 'Tis al∣ways such. But how slender hold has the re∣solution of dying? The distance and difference of a few hours, and the sole consideration of company, renders the apprehension various to us. Do but observe these, by reason that they dye in the same Month, Children, young Peo∣ple, and old, they are no longer astonish'd at it, they lament no more. I saw some who were afraid of staying behind, as in a dreadful soli∣tude, and did not commonly observe any other sollicitude amongst them, than that of Sepul∣tures; they were troubled to see the dead bo∣dies scatter'd about the Fields at the mercy of Beasts, which presently began to flock about them. How differing are the fancies of Men! The Neorites,* 1.479 a Nation subjected by Alexander, threw the bodies of their dead in the deepest, and least frequented part of their Woods, on purpose to have them there eaten; the only Sepulture reputed happy amongst them. Some who were yet in health, digg'd their own Graves, and others laid them down in them whilst alive;* 1.480 and a Labourer of mine, in dy∣ing, with his Hands and Feet pull'd the Earth upon him. Was not this to nustle and settle himself to sleep at greater ease? A bravery in some sort like that of the Roman Souldiers, who

after the Battel of Cannae, were found with their Heads thrust into holes in the Earth, which they had made, and in suffocating themselves, with their own hands pull'd the Earth about their Ears. In short, a whole Nation by usance was brought to a Discipline nothing inferiour in undauntedness to the most studied and pre∣meditated Resolution. Most instructions of Sciences, to encourage us, have in them more of shew than of force, and of Ornament, than effect. We have abandon'd Nature, and will teach her what to do; her who did so happi∣ly, and so securely conduct us. And in the mean time, from the foot-steps of her Instructi∣on, and that little, which by the benefit of ig∣norance, remains of her Image imprinted in the life of this rustick rout of unpolish'd men, Science is constrain'd every day to borrow thence to make a pattern for her Disciples of Constancy, Tranquility, Innocence. 'Tis pret∣ty to see, that these complain of so much fine Knowledge, being to imitate this foolish sim∣plicity, and that in the most principal acts of Virtue. And that our Wisdom must learn even from Beasts, the most profitable instructi∣ons in the greatest and most necessary Concerns of humane life: As, how we are to live and dye, mannage our Fortunes, love, and bring up our Children, and to maintain Justice. A singular testimony of humane Infirmity, and that this Reason we so handle at our Pleasure, finding evermore some diversity and novelty, leaves with us no apparent trace of Nature.

And they make men, as Perfumers mix their Oyls, they have sophisticated it with so many Argumentations and far-fetch'd Discourses, that it is become variable, and particular to every one of them, and has lost its proper, con∣stant, and universal face. And we must seek testimony from Beasts, not subject to favour, corruption, nor diversity of Opinions. For it is indeed true, that even they themselves do not always go exactly in the Path of Nature, but wherein they do swerve, 'tis so little, that you may always see the track. As Horses that are lead make several bounds and curvets, but 'tis always at the length of the Collar, and they still follow him that leads them; and as a Hawk takes his flight but still under the re∣straint of his Cranes.* 1.481 Exilia, Tormenta, Bella, Morbos, Naufragia meditare, ut nullo sis malo tyro. Meditate upon Banishments, Tortures, Wars, Diseases, and Shipwracks, that thou may'st not be to seek in any disaster. What good will this Curiosity do us, to preoccupate all the Incon∣veniencies of humane Nature, and to prepare our selves with so much trouble against things which peradventure will never befall us? (pa∣rem passis tristitiam facit,* 1.482 pati posse. It troubles men as much that they may possibly suffer, as if they really did. Not only the blow, but the wind of the blow strikes us.) Or like Phrene∣tick People, for certainly 'tis a Phrensie to go immediately and whip your self, because it may so fall out, that Fortune may one day make you undergo it; and to put on your

Furr'd-gown at Midsummer, because you will stand in need of it at Christmas? Throw your selves, say they, into the experience of all the evils, the most extream evils that can possibly befall you, assure your selves there. On the contrary, the most easie, and most natural way would be to banish even the thoughts of them. They will not come soon enough, their true Being will not continue with us long enough, we must lengthen and extend them; we must incorporate them in us before hand, and there entertain them, as if they would not other∣wise sufficiently press upon our Senses. We shall find them heavy enough when they come, (says one of our Masters, of none of the ten∣der, but the most severe Sects) in the mean time favour thy self, believe what pleases thee best. What good will it do thee to prevent thy ill Fortune, to lose the present for fear of the future; and to make thy self immediately miserable, because thou art to be so in time? These are his Words. Science indeed does us one good Office, in instructing as exactly in the dimensions of Evils.

Curis acuens mortalia corda.* 1.483

'Twere pity that any part of their Grandeur should escape our Sense and Knowledge. 'Tis certain, that for the most part, the preparation for Death has administred more Torment than the thing it self. It was of old truly said, and by a very judicious Author,* 1.484 Minus afficit sen∣sus

fatigatio, quam cogitatio. Suffering it self does less afflict the Senses, than the apprehension of suffering. The Sentiment of present death does sometimes of it self animate us with a prompt Resolution no more to avoid a thing that is utterly inevitable. Several Gladiators have been seen, who, after having fought timo∣rously and ill, have courageously entertain'd Death, offering their Throats to the Enemies Sword, and bidding them dispatch. The re∣mote sight of future Death requires a Con∣stancy that is slow and lazy, and consequently hard to be got. If you know not how to dye, never trouble your self; Nature will fully and sufficiently instruct you upon the place, she will exactly do that business for you, take you no care:

* 1.485Incertam frustra mortales funeris horam Quaeritis, & qua sit mors aditura via: Poen•• minor certam subito perferre ruinam, Quod timeas, gravius sustinuisse diu.

Mortals, in vain's your Curiosity To know the Hour, and Death that you must dye: Better your fate strike with a sudden blow, Than that you long should what you fear fore∣know.

We trouble Life by the care of Death,* 1.486 and Death by the care of Life. The one torments, the other frights us. 'Tis not against Death that we prepare, that is too momentary a thing; a quarter of an hours suffering without conse∣quence,

and without nuisance, does not deserve particular Precepts. To say the truth, we prepare our selves against the Preparations of Death. Philosophy ordains, that we should always have Death before our Eyes, to fore-see and consi∣der it before the time; and after gives us Rules and Precautions to provide that this fore-sight and thought do us no harm: Just so do Physicians, who throw us into Diseases, to the end they may have whereon to lay out their Druggs, and their Art. If we have not known how to live, 'tis mystery to teach us to dye, and make the end difform from all the rest. If we have known how to live constantly and quietly, we shall know how to dye so too. They may boast as much as they please. Tota Philosophorum Vita, commentatio mortis est.* 1.487 That the whole Life of a Philosopher is the Meditation of his Death. But I fancy, that though it be the end, 'tis not the aim of his Life. 'Tis his end, his extremity, but not nevertheless his object. She ought her self to be to her self her own aim and design; her true study is to order, go∣vern, and suffer her self. In the number of se∣veral other Offices, that the general and prin∣cipal Chapter of knowing how to live compre∣hends, is this Article of knowing how dye; and did not our fears give it weight, one of the lightest too. To judge of them by the uti∣lity, and by the naked truth, the lessons of simplicity are not much inferiour to those which the contrary Doctrine preaches to us. Men are differing in sentiment and force, we

must lead them to their own good, according to their Capacities, and by various ways:

* 1.488Quo me cumque rapit tempestas deferor hospes.

* 1.489sworn to no mans words, To this, and that side I make tacks and bords, Now plung'd in billows of the active Life, At Virtues Anchor ride contemplative.

I never saw any Countryman of my Neigh∣bours concern himself with the thought of, with what countenance and assurance he should pass over his last hour; Nature teaches him not to dream of Death till he is dying: and then he does it with a better grace than Aristo∣tle, upon whom Death presses with a double weight, both of it self, and of so long a pre∣meditation. And therefore it was the opinion of Caesar, that the least premeditated Death was the easiest and the most happy.* 1.490 Plus dolet quam necesse est, qui ante dolet quam necesse est. He grieves more than is necessary, who grieves before it is necessary. The sharpness of this ima∣gination springs from our own curiosity. Thus do we ever hinder our selves, desiring to prevent and govern natural prescriptions. 'Tis only for Doctors to dine worst, when in the best Health, and that they have the best sto∣machs, and to frown, and be out of humour at the Image of Death. The common sort stand in need of no remedy nor consolation, but just in the shock, and when the blow comes; and

consider no more than just what they endure. Is it not then, as we say, that the stupidity and name of apprehension in the Vulgar gives them that patience in present Evils, and that profound carelesness of future sinister Acci∣dents? That their Souls, by being more gross and dull, are less penetrable, and not so easily mov'd? if it be so, let us henceforth, in Gods name, teach nothing but Ignorance. 'Tis the utmost fruit which the Sciences promise us, to which this Stupidity so gently leads its Disci∣ples. We have no want of good Masters, who are interpreters of natural simplicity. Socrates shall be one. For, as I remember, he speaks something to this purpose, to the Judges who sate upon his Life and Death. "I am afraid, (my masters) that if I intreat you to put me to death, I shall confirm the Evidence of my Accu∣sers, which is, that I pretend to be wiser than others, as having some more secret knowledge of things that are above and below us.* 1.491 I know very well, that I have neither frequented nor known Death, nor have ever seen any person that has try'd his Qualities, from whom to inform my self. Such as fear it, presuppose they know it; as for my part, I neither know what it is, nor what they do in the other World. Death is per∣adventure an indifferent thing, peradventure a thing to be desired. 'Tis nevertheless to be be∣liev'd, if it be a transmigration from one place to another, that it is a bettering of ones conditi∣on, to go live with so many great Persons de∣ceas'd, and to be exempt from having any more

to do with unjust and corrupted Judges: if it be an annihilation of our Being, 'tis yet a better∣ing of ones condition, to enter into a long and peaceable night. We find nothing more sweet in Life than a quiet Repose, and a profound Sleep without Dreams. The things that I know to be evil, as to offend a mans Neighbour, and to dis∣obey ones Superiour, whether it be God or Man, I carefully avoid: such as I do not know whe∣ther they be good or evil, I cannot fear them. If I go to dye, and leave you alive, the Gods alone only know whether it will go better either with you or me; wherefore, as to what concerns me, you may do as you shall think fit; but ac∣cording to my method of advising just and pro∣fitable things, I do affirm, that you will do your Consciences more right to set me at liberty, un∣less you see further into my cause than I. And judging according to my past actions, both pub∣lick and private, according to my intentions, and according to the profit that so many of our Citizens, both young and old, daily extract from my Conversation, and the fruit that you reap from me your selves, you cannot more duely acquit your selves towards my merit, than in ordering, that, my poverty consider'd, I should be main∣tain'd in the * 1.492 Prytaneum, at the Publick ex∣pence; a thing that I have often known you with less reason grant to others. Do not impute it to obstinacy or disdain, that I do not, accor∣ding to the custom, supplicate, and go about to move you to commiseration. I have both Friends and Kindred, not being (as Homer says) be∣gotten

of a block, or of a stone, no more than o∣thers, that are able to present themselves before 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in tears and mourning, and I have three de∣solute children with which to move you to com∣passion: But I should do a shame to our City, at the Age I am, and in the reputation of Wis∣dom wherein I now stand, to appear in such an object form. What would men say of the other Athenians? I have always admonish'd those who have frequented my Lectures, not to redeem their Lives by an indecent action; and in any the Wars of my Countrey, at Amphipolis, Potidea, Delia, and other Expeditions where I have been, I have effectually manifested how far I was from secu∣ring my safety by my shame. I should moreover in••erest your Duty, and should tempt you to un∣handsome things,; for 'tis not for my Prayers to persuade you, but for the pure and solid rea∣son of Justice. You have sworn to the Gods to keep your selves upright, and it would seem as if I suspected, or would recriminate upon you, should I not believe that you are so: And I should give evidence against my self, not to believe them as I ought, mistrusting their Conduct, and not purely committing my Affair into their hands. I do wholly rely upon them, and hold my self assur'd, they will do in this what shall be most fit both for you and me. Good men, whether li∣ving or dead, have no reason to fear the Gods.

Is not this an innocent childish pleading of an immaginable loftiness, and in what a neces∣sity imploy'd? In earnest, he had very good reason to prefer it before that which the great

Orator Lysias had penn'd for him: admirably couch'd indeed in the judiciary style, but un∣worthy of so noble a Criminal. Had a suppli∣ant voice been heard out of the mouth of So∣crates, that lofty Virtue had struck sail in the height of its glory. And ought his rich and powerful nature to have committed her de∣fence to Art, and in her highest proof have re∣nounc'd truth and simplicity, the ornaments of his speaking, to adorn and deck it self with the Embellishments of figures, and equi∣vocations of a premeditated Speech? He did very wisely, and like himself, not to corrupt the tenure of an incorrupt Life, and so sacred an image of humane form, to spin out his Decrepitude the poor eeching of a year, and to betray the immortal memory of that glorious end. He ow'd his Life not to himself, but to the Example of the World. Had it not been a publick dammage, that he should have concluded it after a lazy and obscure manner? Doubtless, that careless and indifferent consideration of his Death, very well deserves that Posterity should consider him so much the more, as they also did. And there is nothing so just in Justice, than that which Fortune ordain'd for his recom∣mendation. For the Athenians abominated all those who had been causers of his death to such a degree, that they avoided them as excommunicated Persons, and look'd up∣on every thing as polluted, that had been

touch'd by them: no one would wash with them in the publick Baths: none would sa∣lute, or own acquaintance with them: so that at last, unable longer to support this publick hatred, they hang'd themselves. If any one shall think, that amongst so many o∣ther Examples that I had to chuse out of in the Sayings of Socrates, for my present purpose, I have made an ill choice of this, and shall judge that this Discourse is eleva∣ted above common Conceit; I must tell them that I have purposely done it; for I am of another opinion, and do hold it a Discourse in rank and simplicity much behind and inferiour to common contrivance. He re∣presents, in an inartificial boldness, and in∣fantive security, the pure and first impressi∣on and ignorance of Nature. For it is to be believ'd, that we have naturally a fear of Pain, but not of Death, by reason of it self. 'Tis a part of our Being, and no less essential than Living. To what end should Nature have begot in us a hatred to it, and a horror of it, considering that it is of so great utility to her in maintaining the Suc∣cession and Vicissitude of her Works? And that in this universal Republick it conduces more to truth and augmentation, than to loss or ruine.

— sic rerum summa novatur,* 1.493 Mille animus una necata dedit.

The failing of one Life, is the passage to a thou∣sand other Lives: Nature has imprinted in Beasts the care of themselves, and of their conservation. Nay, they proceed so far, as to be timorous of being worse▪ of hitting or hurting themselves, and of our hal••ering and beating them; accidents which are subject to their sense and experience;* 1.494 but that we should kill them they cannot fear, nor have not the faculty to imagine and conclude such a thing as Death▪ Yet it is said, that we see them, not only cheerfully undergo it, Horses for the most part neighing, and Swans singing when they dye; but moreover seek it at need: of which Elephants have given many Examples. But besides all this, is not the way of arguing which Socrates here makes use of, equally ad∣mirable, both in simplicity and vehemence? Really, it is much more easie to speak like Aristotle, and to live like Caesar, than to speak and live as Socrates did. There lies the ex∣tream degree of perfection and difficulty: Art cannot reach it. Now our Faculties are not so train'd up. We do not try, we do not know them, we invest our selves with those of others, and let our own lye idle. As some one may say of me, that I have here only made a Nosegay of cull'd Flowers, and have brought nothing of my own but the thread that ties them. In earnest, I have so far yielded to the publick Opinion, that those borrow'd Ornaments do accompany me, but I do not think that they totally cover and

hide me; that is quite contrary to my design, who desire to make a shew of nothing but what is my own, and what is my own by Na∣ture: and had I taken my own advice, I had at all adventures spoken purely alone. I dai∣ly more and more load my self every day be∣yond my purpose and first Method, upon the account of Idleness, and the humour of the Age. If it misbecome me, as I believe it does, 'tis no matter, it may be of use to some other. Such there are, who quote Plato and Homer, who never saw either of them: and I also have ta∣ken out of places far enough distant from their Source. Without pains and without Learning, having a thousand Volumes about me in the place where I write, I can presently borrow, if I please, from a dozen such Scrap-gatherers as I am, Authors that I do not much trouble my self withall, wherewith to embel∣lish this Treatise of Physiognomy. There needs no more, but a praeliminary Epistle of the German cut, to stuff me with proofs, and we by that means go a begging for a fading Glory, and a cheating the sottish World. These Rhapsodies of Common Places, wherewith so many furnish their Studies, are of little use but to common Subjects, and serve but to shew, and not to direct us: a ridiculous fruit of Learning, that Socrates does so pleasantly canvase against Euthidemus. I have seen Books made of things that were never either studi∣ed or understood; the Author committing to several of his learned Friends the examina∣tion

of this and t'other matter to compile it; contenting himself for his share to have pro∣jected the Design, and by his industry to have ty'd together this Fagot of unknown Provisi∣ons; the Ink and Paper at least are his. This is to buy or borrow a Book, and not to make one; 'tis to shew men, not that a man can make a Book, but that, whereof they may be in doubt, that he cannot make one. A Presi∣dent in my hearing boasted, that he had clut∣ter'd two hundred and odd common places in one of his Judgments; in telling which, he de∣priv'd himself of the Glory that had been at∣tributed to him. In my Opinion, a pusillani∣mous and absurd Vanity for such a Subject, and such a Person. I do quite contrary; and amongst so many borrow'd things, am glad if I can steal one, disguising and altering it for some new service, at the hazard of having it said, that 'tis for want of understanding its na∣tural use. I give it some particular address of my own hand, to the end it may not be so ab∣solutely strange. These set their thefts to shew, and value themselves upon them. And also they have more credit with the Laws than with me. We Naturalists think that there is a great and incomparable preference in the ho∣nour of Invention, to that of Quotation. If I would have spoke by Learning, I had spoke sooner, I had writ in a time nearer to my Stu∣dies, when I had more Wit and better Memo∣ry; and would sooner have trusted to the vigour of that Age than this, would I have

profess'd Writing. And what if this gracious Favour which Fortune has lately offer'd me up∣on the account of this work, had befall'n me in such a time of my Life, instead of this, where∣in 'tis equally desirable to possess, and ready to lose? Two of my Acquaintance, great men in this faculty, have, in my Opinion, lost half, in refusing to publish at forty years old, that they might stay till threescore. Maturity has its defects as well as verdure, and worse;* 1.495 and old age is as unfit for this kind of business as any other. Who commits his Decrepitude to the Press, plays the fool if he think to squeeze any thing out thence that does not relish of Dotage and Stupidity. Our Wits grow costive and thick in growing old. I deliver my Igno∣rance in pomp and state, and my Learning mea∣gerly and poorly; this accidentally and accesso∣rily, that principally and expresly; and write purposely of nothing, but nothing, nor of any Science but that of Inscience. I have chosen a time, when my Life, which I am to give an ac∣count of, lies wholly before me; what remains holds more of Death. And of my death only, should I find it a prating death as others do, I would moreover give an account at my de∣parture,* 1.496 Socrates was a perfect Exemplar in all great Qualities, and I am vext that he had so deform'd a Body as is said, and so unsuitable to the Beauty of his Soul, himself being so amorous, and such an admirer of Beauty. Na∣ture surely did him wrong. There is nothing more likely than a conformity and relation of

the Body to the Soul.* 1.497 Ipsi animi magni refert quali in corpore locati sint: multi enim è cor∣pore ex••stunt, quae acuunt montem: multa quae obtundant. It is of great consequence in what Bodies Souls are plac'd, for many things spring from the Body that sharpen the Mind, and ma∣ny that blunt and dull it. This speaks of an unnatural ugliness and deformity of Limbs: but we call that ill-favour'dness also, an unseemli∣ness at first sight, which is principally lodg'd in the Face, and distasts us by the Complexion, a Spot, a rude Countenance, sometimes from some inexplicable cause, in members neverthe∣less of good simmetry and perfect. The Defor∣mity that cloth'd a very beautiful Soul in Boe∣tia was of this Predicament. That superficial ugliness, which nevertheless is always the most imperious, is of least prejudice to the state of the Mind, and of little certainty in the Opi∣nion of men. The other, which by a more proper name, is call'd a more substantial Defor∣mity, strikes deeper in. Not every Shooe of smooth sliming Leather, but every Shooe neat∣ly made, shews the interior shape of the Foot. As Socrates said of his, that it accus'd just so much in his Soul, had he not corrected it by institution; but in saying so, I believe he did but scoff, as his Custom was, and never so ex∣cellent a Soul made it self.* 1.498 I cannot oft enough repeat how great an esteem I have for Beauty, that potent and advantageous Quality. He call'd it a short Tyranny, and Plato, the Privi∣ledge of Nature. We have nothing that excells

it in Reputation; it has the first place in the commerce of men; it presents it self to meet 〈◊〉〈◊〉, seduces and prepossesses our Judgments with great Authority and wonderful Impressi∣on Phr••ne had lost her Cause in the hands of an excellent Advocate▪ if opening her Robe, she had not corrupted her Judges by the lustre of her Beauty. And I find that Cyrus, Alexan∣••nder, and Caesar, the three Masters of the World, never neglected Beauty in their great∣est Affairs, no more did the first Scipio. The same word in Greek signifies both fair and good, and the Holy-Ghost oft calls those good, whom he means fair. I should willingly main∣tain the priority in things call'd goods, accor∣ding to the Song, which Plato calls an idle thing, taken out of some of the ancient Poets, of Health, Beauty, and Riches. Aristotle says,* 1.499 that the right of Command appertains to the beautiful▪ and when there is a Person whose Beauty comes near the Images of the Gods, that then Veneration is likewise due. To him who askt him why People ofter and longer fre∣quented the company of handsome Persons? That Question, said he, is not to be askt by any, but one that is blind. The most, and the great∣e•••• Philosophers, paid for their schooling, and acquired Wisdom by the Favour and Mediati∣o•• Beauty. Not only in the men that serve me, but also in the Beasts, I consider them within two fingers breadth of Goodness. And yet I fancy that those Features and Moulds of a Face, and those Lineaments by which men

guess at our internal Complexions, and our Fortunes to come, is a thing that does not ve∣ry directly and simply lye under the Chapter of Beauty and Deformity, no more than eve∣ry good odour and serenity of Air promises Health, nor all fogg and stink, Infection, and a time of Pestilence. Such as accuse Ladies of contradicting their Beauty by their Manners, do not always hit right; for in a Face which is none of the best, there may lye some air of probity and trust: as on the contrary, I have seen betwixt two beautiful Eyes, menaces of a dangerous and malignant Nature. There are some Physiognomies that are favourable, so that in a crowd of victorious Enemies, you shall presently choose, amongst men you never saw before, one rather than another, to whom to surrender, and with whom to intrust your Life, and yet not properly upon the Conside∣ration of Beauty. A mans look is but a feeble warranty, and yet it is something considerable too. And if I were to lash them, I would most severely scourge the wicked ones, who belye and betray the promises that Nature has plant∣ed in their Fore-heads. I should with great Severity punish Malice in a mild and gen∣tle Aspect. It seems as if there were some happy and some unhappy Faces; and I believe there is some Art in distinguishing af∣fable from simple Faces, severe from rude, ma∣licious from pensive, scornful from melancho∣lick, and such other bordering Qualities. There are Beauties which are not only fair, but sour;

and others▪ that are not only sweet, but more than that, faint. To prognosticate future ad∣ventures, is a thing that I shall leave undecided. I have, as to my own concern, as I have said elsewhere, simply and nakedly embrac'd this ancient Rule, That we cannot fail in following Nature; and that the sovereign Precept is to con∣form our selves to her. I have not, as Socrates did, corrected my natural Complexions by the force of Reason, and have not in the least molest∣ed Inclination by Art. I have let my self go as I came; I contend not. My two principal parts live of their own accord in Peace and good Intelligence, but my Nurses Milk, thanks be to God, was tollerably wholsome and good. Let me say this by the way, that I see a certain Image of scolastick Honesty, almost only in use amongst us, in greater esteem than 'tis really worth; a slave to Precepts, and fetter'd with hope and fear. I would have it such, as that Laws and Religions should not make, but per∣fect and authorise it, that finds it has where∣withall to support it self without help, born and rooted in us from the seed of universal Reason, and imprinted in every man by Nature. That Reason which rectified Socrates from his vici∣ous bent, renders him obedient to Gods, and Men of Authority in his City; courageous in Death, not because his Soul is immortal, but because he is mortal. 'Tis a Doctrine ruinous to all Government, and much more hurtful than ingenious and subtle, which persuades the People, that a religious belief is alone suffici∣ent,

and without manners, to satisfie the Divine Justice. Usance demonstrates to us a vast distin∣ction betwixt Devotion and Conscience▪ I have a tolerable aspect, both in Form and Interpretati∣on▪

* 1.500Quid d••xi habere m••? Iuro habui Chreme. Heu! tantum attriti corporis ossa vid••s▪

Have, did I say? No, Chremes, I had on••••, Of a worn Body thou but see'st the Bones.

and that makes a quite contrary shew to that of Socrates. It has oft befall'n me, that upon the mere credit of my presence, and the air of my face, Persons who had no manner of know∣ledge of me, have put a very great confidence in me, whether in their own affairs or mine; And I have in foreign Parts obtain'd favours both singular and rare; but amongst the rest, these two Examples are peradventure worth particular relation: A certain Person, delibe∣rated to surprize my House, and me in it; his Artifice was to come to my Gates alone, and to be importunate to be let in; I knew him by name, and had reason to repose a confi∣dence in him, as being my neighbour, and something related to me, I ••aus'd the Gates to be open'd to him, as I do to every one, where I found his Horse panting, and all on a foa••••. He presently popt me in the mouth with this Flim-flam, "That about half a League off he had unluckily met with a certain enemy of his, whom I also knew, and had heard of their quar∣rel; that this enemy had given him a very brisk

chace, and that having been surpriz'd in disor∣der, and his Party being too weak, he was fled to my Gates for refuge: And that he was in great trouble for his followers, whom, he said, he concluded to be all either dead or taken. I inno∣cently did my best to comfort, assure, and re∣fresh him. Presently after, comes four or five of his Souldiers, that presented themselves in the same countenance and affright, to get in too, and after them more, and still more, ve∣ry well mounted and arm'd, to the number of five and twenty, or thirty, pretending that they had the Enemy at their heels. This my∣stery began a little to awake my suspi••ion. I was not ignorant what an Age I liv'd in, how much my House might be envy'd, and I had several examples of others of my Acquaintance who had miscarried after that manner. So it was, that knowing there was nothing to be got in having begun to do a courtesie, unless I went through with it, and I could not dis∣engage my self from them without spoiling all; I let my self go the most natural and simple way, as I alwayes do, and invited them all to come in. And in truth, I am naturally very lit∣tle inclin'd to suspition and distrust. I willing∣ly incline towards excuse, and the gentlest in∣terpretation. I take men according to the com∣mon order, and no more believe those per∣verse and unnatural inclinations, unless con∣vinc'd by manifest evidence, than I do Mon∣sters and Miracles; and am moreover a man who willingly commit my self to Fortune, and

throw my self headlong into her arms, and have hitherto found more reason to applaud, than to condemn my self for so doing; ha∣ving ever found her more sollicitious of, and more a friend to my affairs, than I am my self. There are some actions in my Life, where∣in the Conduct may justly be call'd difficult; or, if they please, prudent. Yet of those, sup∣posing the third part to have been my own, doubtless the other two Thirds were absolute∣ly and solely hers. We are, methinks, too blame, in that we do not enough trust Heaven with our affairs, and pretend to more from our own Conduct than appertains to us. And therefore it is that our designs so oft miscarry. Heaven is displeas'd at the extent that we at∣tribute to the right of humane Prudence a∣bove his, and cuts it shorter, by how much the more we amplifie it. The last comers kept themselves on horseback in my Court, whilst their Leader was with me in the Parlour, who would not have his Horse set up in the Stable, saying, he would immediately retire, so soon as he should have news of the rest of his men. He saw himself Master of his Enterprize, and nothing now remain'd but the execution. He has since several times said, (for he was not asham'd to tell the story himself) that my Countenance and freedom had snatch'd the Treachery out of his hands. He again mount∣ed his horse; his followers having continually their Eyes intent upon him, to see when he would give the sign; very much astonish'd to

see him march away and leave his prey be∣hind him. Another time, relying upon I know not what Truce, newly publish'd in the Army, I took a Journey through a very tickle Countrey. I had not rid far, but I was disco∣ver'd, and two or three Parties of Horse, from several places, were sent out to take me; one of them the third day overtook me, where I was charg'd by fifteen or twenty Gentlemen in Vizors, followed at a distance by a Band of Argoulets. Here was I surrendred, and taken, withdrawn into the thick of a neigh'bring Fo∣rest, dismounted, sob'd, my Trunks rifled, my Cabinet taken, and my Horses and Equipage divided amongst new Masters. We had in this Copse a very long Contest about my Ransom, which they set so high, that it very well ap∣pear'd I was not known to them. They were moreover in a very great debate about my Life; and in truth, there were several cir∣cumstances that threatned me of the danger I was in.

Tunc animis opus, Aenea tunc pectore firmo.* 1.501

Then, then Aeneas, there was need Of an undaunted hear indeed.

I still insisted upon the Truce, being willing they should only have the gain of what they had already taken from me, which also was not be despis'd, without promise of any other Ransom. After two or three hours that

we had been in this place, and that they had mounted me upon a pitiful Jade that was not likely to run from them, and committed me to the guard of fifteen or twenty Harquebu∣zers, and dispers'd my Servants to others, ha∣ving given order that they should carry us away Prisoners several ways, and being alrea∣dy got some two or three Musket-shot from the place,

* 1.502Jam praece Pollucis jam Castoris implor••ta;

Whilst I implor'd Castor and Pollux aid;

behold a sudden and unexpected alteration; I saw the Chief amongst them return to me with gentler Language, making search amongst the Troopers for my squander'd Goods, and causing as many as could be recover'd to be restor'd to me, even to my Cashet; but the best present they made me was my Liber∣ty, for the rest did not much concern me in those dayes. The true cause of so sudden a change, and of this more mature deliberation, without any apparent impulse, and of so mi∣raculous a repentance, in such a time, in a complotted and deliberated Enterprize, and become just by usance, (for at the first dash I plainly confess'd to them of what Party I was, and whither I was going) in earnest, I do not yet rightly apprehend. The most emi∣nent amongst them, who pull'd off his Vizor, and told me his name, then several times told

me over and over again, that I was oblig'd for my deliverance to my Countenance, and the liberty and boldness of my Speech, that rendred me unworthy of such a misad∣venture, and demanded assurance from me of the like courtesie. 'Tis like that the Divine bounty would make use of this vain Instru∣ment for my preservation, and moreover de∣fended me the next day from other and worse Ambushes, which even these had gi∣ven me warning of. The last of these two Gentlemen is yet living, to give an account of the story; the first was kill'd not long ago. If my Face did not answer for me, if men did not read in my Eyes, and in my Voice, the innocency of my Intention, I had not liv'd so long without quarrels, and without giving offence, with the indiscreet liberty I take, right or wrong to say whatever comes at my Tongues end, and to judge so rashly of things. This way may with reason appear uncivil, and ill adapted to our way of Conversation, but I have never met with any who have judg'd it outragious or malicious, or that took offence at my liberty, if he had it from my own mouth. Repeated words have ano∣ther kind of sound and sense: neither do I hate any Person whatever, and am so slow to offend, that I cannot do it, even upon the ac∣count of Reason it self. And when occasion has invited me to sentence Criminals, I have rather chose to fail in point of Justice than to do it. Vt magis peccari nolim, quam satis ani∣mi

ad vindicand•• peccata habeam. So that I had rather men should not offend▪ than that I should have the heart to condemn them, Aristotle, 'tis said, was reproach'd for having been too merciful to a wicked man:* 1.503 I was indeed, said he, merciful to the man, but not to his wicked∣ness. Ordinary Judgments exasperate them∣selves to Punishment by the horror of the Fact. Even this cools mine. The horrour of the first Murther makes me fear a second, and the deformity of the first Cruelty makes me abhor all imitation of it. That may be apply'd to me, who am but a Knave of Clubs, which was said of Charillus King of Sparta, he can∣not be good, being he is not evil to the wicked. Or thus; for Plutarch delivers it both these wayes, as he does a thousand other things, variously, and contrary to one another; He must needs be good, because he is so even to the wicked. Even as in lawful actions I do not care to employ my self, when for such as are dis∣pleas'd at it; so, to say the truth, in unlaw∣ful things, I do not make conscience enough of employing my self, when for such as are willing.

CHAP. XIII. Of Experience.

THere is no desire more natural than that of Knowledge. We try all ways that can lead us to it; where Reason is wanting, we therein employ Experience,

Per varios usus artem experientia fecit:* 1.504 Exemplo monstrante viam.

By several proofs Experience Art has made: Example being guide.

which is a means much more weak and cheap. But Truth is so great a thing, that we ought not to disdain any Mediation that will guide us to it. Reason has so many forms, that we know not to which to take; Experience has no fewer. The Consequence we will draw from the conference of Events is unsure, by reason they are always unlike. There is no quality so universal in this Image of things, as diversi∣ty▪ and variety. Both the Greeks, the Latins, and we, for the most express Example of simi∣litude, have pitch'd upon that of Eggs. And yet there have been men, particularly one at Delphos, who could distinguish marks of dif∣ference amongst Eggs so well, that he never mistook one for another: And, having many Hens, could tell which had laid it. Dissimili∣tude

intrudes it self of it self in our works; no Art can arrive at a perfect Similitude. Neither Perozet, nor any other Card-maker, can so carefully polish and blanch the backs of his Cards, that some Gamesters will not distin∣guish them by seeing them only shuffled by another. Resemblance does not so much make one, as difference makes another. Nature has oblig'd her self to make nothing other that was not unlike. And yet I am not much pleas'd with his Opinion, who thought by the mul∣titude of Laws to curb the Authority of Judges, in cutting them out the Cantels. He was not aware that there is as much liberty and stretch in the Interpretation of Laws, as in their fashion; and they but fool themselves, who think to lessen and stop our debates, by summoning us to the express words of the Bi∣ble: Forasmuch as humane Wit does not find the Field less spacious wherein to controvert the sence of mother, than to deliver his own▪ and, as if there were less animosity and tartness in glossing than Invention. We see how much he was deceiv'd; for we have more Laws i•• France, than in all the rest of the World be∣sides; and more than would be necessary for the Government of all the Worlds of Epicurus▪ Vt olim Flagitiis▪* 1.505 sic nunc Legibus laboramus▪ so that as formerly we were sick of Wickedness, we are now sick of the Laws: and yet we have left so much to the debate and decision of our Judges, that there never was so full and uncon∣troul'd a Liberty. What have our Legislators

got by culling out a hundred thousand parti∣cular Cases, and for those, by having added a hundred thousand Laws? This number holds no manner of proportion with the infinite di∣versity of humane Actions; the multiplication of our Inventions will never arrive at the va∣riety of Example••. Add to them a hundred times as many more, it will not nevertheless ever happen, that of events to come, there shall any one fall out, that in this great number of milli∣ons of events so chosen and recorded, shall jump with any one, to which it can be so ex∣actly coupled and compar'd, that there will not remain some Circumstances and Diversity which will require a variety of Judgment. There is little relation betwixt our Actions that are in perpetual mutation, and fixt and immobile Laws; the most to be desir'd, are those that are the most rare, the most simple and general: and I am further of Opinion, that we were better to have none at all, than to have them in so prodigious number as we have. Nature always gives them better, and more pure than those are we make our selves; witness the Picture of the Golden-Age, and the s••••ate wherein we see Nations live, who have no other. Some there are,* 1.506 who for their only Judge, takes the first passer by that travels along their Mountains, to determine their Cause: And others, who, on their Market day, choose out some one amongst them upon the place, to decide all their Controversies. What danger would there be, that the wisest should

so determine ours, according to occurrences, and by sight, without obligation of Example and Consequence? Every Shooe to his own Foot. King Ferdinand sent Colonies to the In∣dies, and wisely provided that they should not carry along with them any Students of the Long-Robe, for fear lest Suits should get footing in that new World; as being a Science in its own Nature, the Mother of altercation and decisi∣on; judging with Plato, that Lawyers and Physicians are the Pests of a Country. Whence does it come to pass that our common Langua∣ges, so easie for all other uses, become obscure, and are intelligible in Wills and Contracts? And that he who so clearly expresses himself; whatever he speaks or writes, cannot find in this any way of declaring himself that does not fall into doubt and contradiction? If it be not that these Princes of that Art, applying themselves with a peculiar attention to invent and cull out hard words, and contrive artifi∣cial Clauses, have so weigh'd every Syllable, and so thoroughly sifted every sort of quirk, that they are now confounded and intangled in the infinity of Figures, and so many minute Divisions, that they can no more fall into any Rule or prescription, nor any certain intelli∣gence. Confusum est quidquid usque in pulvere in sectum est. Whatever is beaten into Powder is confus'd. As you have Children trying to bring a mass of Quick-silver to a certain number of parts, the more they press and work it, and endeavour to reduce it to their own will, the

more they irritate the liberty of this generous Metal; it mocks and evades their endeavour, and sparkles it self into so many separate Bo∣dies, as frustrates all account: so is it here, for in subdividing these subtilties, we teach men to increase their doubts, they pull us into a way of stretching and diversifying difficulties, they lengthen and disperse them. In sowing and retailing of Questions, they make the World to fructifie and increase in uncertainties and disputes. As the Earth is made fertile by being crumbled and husbanded deep. Difficul∣tatem facit Doctrina; Doctrine begets Difficul∣ty. We doubted of Vlpian, and are now more perplex'd with Bartolus and Baldus. We should put out the trace of this innumerable diversi∣ty of Opinions, not adorn our selves with it, and fill Posterity with Crotchets. I know not what to say to it, but Experience makes it ma∣nifest, that so many interpretations dissipate Truth, and break it. Aristotle writ to be un∣derstood, which if he could not be, much less will another that is not so good at it; and a third than he, who express'd his own Thoughts. We open the matter, and spill it in pouring out. Of one Subject we make a thousand, and in multiplying and subdividing them, fall again into the infinity of Atoms of Epicurus. Never did two men make the same Judgment of the same thing; and 'tis impossible to find two Opinions exactly alike, not only in several men, but in the same men, at diverse hours. I oft find matter of doubt, of things which the

Commentary disdains to take notice of. I am most apt to stumble in an even Country, like some Horses that I have known, who make most trips in the smoothest way. Who will not say that Glosses augment Doubts and Igno∣rance, since there's no one Book to be found, either Humane or Divine, which the World busies it self about the Difficulties of, which are clear'd by Interpretation. The hundredth Commentator still referrs you to the next, more knotty and perplext than he. When were we ever agreed amongst our selves, that a Book had enow, and that there was now no more to be said? This is most apparent in the Law. We give the Authority of Law to infinite Doctors, infinite Arrests, and as many Inter∣pretations; Yet do we find any end of the need of interpreting? Is there for all that, any progress or advancement towards Peace; or do we stand in need of any fewer Advocates and Judges, than when this great Mass of Law was yet in its first Infancy? We on the con∣trary darken and bury all Intelligence. We can no more discover it, but at the mercy of so many fences and barriers. Men do not know the natural Disease of the Mind, it does nothing but ferret and enquire, and is eternal∣ly wheeling, jugling, and perplexing it self; and like Silk-worms, suffocates it self with its own Web. Mus in pice. A Mouse in a pitch Barrel. It thinks it discovers at a great distance I know not what glimps of light and imagi∣nary Truth; but whilst running to it so ma∣ny

Difficulties, Hindrances▪ and new Inquisiti∣ons, crosses its way, that it loses its way, and is made drunk with the motion. Not much unlike Aesops Dogs, that seeing something like a dead Body floating in the Sea, and not being able to approach it, attempted to drink the Water, to lay the passage dry, and so drown'd themselves. To which, what one Crates said of the Writings of Heraclitus, falls pat enough, that they required a Reader who could swim well, that the depth and weight of his Doctrine might not overwhelm and choak him. 'Tis nothing but particular weak∣ness that makes us content our selves with what others, or our selves have found out in this choice of Knowledge; one of better un∣derstanding would not rest so content, there is always room for one to succeed, nay even for our selves, and every where else through∣out; there is no end of our Inquisitions, our end is in the other World. 'Tis a sign either that Wit is grown shorter sighted when it is satisfied, or that it is grown weary. No gene∣rous Mind can stop in it self, it will still pre∣tend further, and beyond its power; it has Sallies beyond its Effects. If it do not advance and press forward, and retire, rush, turn and wheel about, 'tis but spritely by halves; its pursuits are without Bound or Method, its aliment is Admiration, ambiguity the Chace; which Apollo sufficiently declared, in always speaking to us in a double, obscure, and oblique Sence; not feeding, but amusing and puzling

us. 'Tis an irregular and perpetual motion, without Example, and without Aim. His In∣ventions heat, pursue, and interproduce one another.

Ainsi voit on en unraisseau coulant Sans fin l'une eau, apres l'autre roulant, Et tout de rang, d'un eternel conduict, L'une suit l'autre, & l'une autre fuit. Par cette-cy, celle-là est poussée, Et cette-cy par l'autre est devancée: Tousiours l'eau va dans l'eau & tousiours est-ce Mesme ruisseau, & tousiours eau diverse.

So in a running stream one Wave we see After another roul incessantly, And as they glide, each does successively Pursue the other, each the other fly: By this that's ever-more push'd on, and this By that continually preceded is: The Water still does into Water swill, Still the same Brook, but different Water still.

There is more ado to interpret Interpretati∣ons than Things, and more Books upon Books, than upon all other Subjects; we do dothing but comment upon one another. Every place saies, with Commentaries of Authors there is great scarcity. Is it not the principal and most reputed knowledge of our Ages to under∣stand the Learned? Is it not the common and almost end of all Studies? Our Opinions are grafted upon one another; the first serves for

a stock to the second, the second to the third, and so forth. Thus step by step we climb the Ladder. From whence it come to pass, that he which is mounted highest has oft more Honour than Merit; for he is got up but a grain upon the shoulders of the last but one. How oft, and peradventure how foolishly, have I stretch'd my Book, to make it speak of it self; foolishly, if for no other reason but this; that I ought to call to mind what I say of others who do the same. These frequent amorous glances that they so oft cast upon their works, witness that their Hearts pant with self love, and that even the disdainful Severity wherewith they lash and scourge them, are no other than the wanton Dissimulations of a nataral kindness: According to Aristotle, whose valuing and undervaluing himself, oft spring from the same air of Arrogancy; I urge for my excuse, that I ought in this to have more liberty than others, forasmuch as I write of my self, and of my Writings, very near as I do of my other Actions; and let my Theam return upon my self, I know not whether or no every one else will take it. I have observ'd in Germany, that Luther has left as many Di∣visions and Disputes about the doubt of his Opinions, and more than he himself has rais'd upon the Holy Scriptures. Our contest is ver∣bal. I demand what Nature is, what Pleasure, Circle and Substitution are. The Question is about words, and is answer'd accordingly. A Stone is a Body, but if a man should further

urge, and what is a Body? Substance; and what is Substance, and so on, he would drive the respondent to the end of his Cal••pin. We exchange one word for another, and oft times for one less understood. I better know what man is, than I know what animal is, or mortal, or rational. To satisfie one doubt, they pop 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the mouth with three; 'tis the Hydra's head. Socrates ask'd Memnon what Virtue was; There is, says Memnon, the Virtue of a Man▪ and of a Woman, of a Magistrate, and of a pri∣vate Person, of an old Man, and of a Child; very well, cry'd Socrates, we were in quest of our Virtue, and thou hast brought us a whole swarm. He put out one question, and thou re∣turnest us a whole Hive. As no Event, nor no Face intirely resembles another, so do they not intirely differ. An ingenious mixture of Nature. If our Faces were not alike, we could not distinguish man from Beast; if they were not unlike, we could not distinguish one man from another. All things hold by some Simi∣litude, all Example halts. And the relation which is drawn from Experience is always faulty and imperfect; comparisons are always coupled at one end or other. So do the Laws serve and are fitted to every one of our Affairs, by some wrested, bias'd and forc'd Interpreta∣tion. Since the Ethick Laws that concern the particular Duty of every one in himself, are so hard to be taught and observ'd, as we see they are; 'tis no wonder if those who govern so many particulars, is much more. Do but con∣sider

the form of this Justice that governs us, 'tis a true Testimony of humane weakness, so full it is of Error and Contradiction. What we find to be Favour and Severity in Justice, and we find so much of them both, that I know not whether the mean is so often met with, are sick parts, and unequal Members of the very Body, and offence of Justice. The Coun∣try People run to bring me News in great haste, that they just left in a Forrest of mine, a man with a hundred Wounds upon him, who was yet breathing, and begg'd of them Water for pitty's sake, and help to carry him to some place of relief; saying, they durst not come near him, but run away, lest the Officers of Justice should catch them there; and as it falls out with those who are found near a murther'd Person, they should be call'd in question about this accident to their utter ruine, having neither Money nor Friends to defend their Innocence. What should I have said to these People? 'Tis certain that this Office of humanity would have brought them into trouble. How many Inno∣cents have we known that have been punish'd without the Judges fault, and how many that have not arriv'd at our knowledge? This hapen'd in my time. Certain men were con∣demn'd to die for a murther committed, their Sentence if not pronounc'd, at least determin'd and concluded on. The Judges just in the nick, are advertis'd by the Officers of an inferiour Court hard by, that they have some men in Custody, who have directly confess'd the said

Murther, and make an undubitable discovery of all the particulars of the Fact. 'Twas then notwithstanding put to the question, whether or no they ought to suspend Execution of the Sentence already past upon the first accus'd. They consider'd the novelty of the Example, and the consequence of reversing Judgments, that the Sentence of Death was duly pass'd, and the Judges acquit of repentance: To conclude, these poor Devils were sacrifis'd to the forms of Justice. Philip, or some other, provided against a like Inconvenience, after this manner. He had condemn'd a man in a great fine to∣wards another, by a determinate Judgment. The truth some time after being discover'd, he found that he had pass'd an unjust Sentence; on one side was the Reason of the Cause, on the other side the Reason of the Judiciary Forms. He in some sort satisfied both, leaving the Sentence in the state it was, and out of his own Purse recompencing the interest of the condemn'd party. But he had to do in a repai∣rable affair, mine were irreparably hang'd. How many Sentences have I seen more crimi∣nal than the Crimes themselves? All which makes me remember the ancient Opinions, That there is a necessity a man must do wrong by retail, who will do right in gross; and inju∣stice in little things, that will come to do Justice in great: that humane justice is form'd after the model of Physick, according to which, all that is utile, is also just and honest; and of what is held by the Stoicks, That Nature her self pro∣ceeds

contrary to Justice in most of her works; and of what is receiv'd by the Cyrennicks, that there is nothing just of it self, but that Customs and Laws make Justice: And what the Theo∣dorians hold, that maintain Theft, Sacriledge, and all sorts of Vncleanness just in a wise man, if he knows them to be profitable to him: there is no Remedy. I am in the same case that Alcibiades was, that I will never, if I can help it, put my self into the hands of a man who shall determine of my Head, where my Life and Honour shall more depend upon the care and diligence of my Attor∣ney, than my own innocence. I would ven∣ture my self with such a Justice as would take notice of my good Deeds as well as my ill, and where I had as much to hope as to fear Indemnity is not sufficient pay to a man who does better than not to do amiss; but our Ju∣stice presents us but one hand, and that the left hand too; let him be who he will, he shall be sure to go off with less. In China, of which Kingdom the Governments and Arts, without commerce with, or knowledge of ours, surpas∣ses our best Examples, in several parts of Ex∣cellence; and of which, the History gives me to understand, how much greater and more various the World is, than either the Ancients or We have been able to penetrate. The Offi∣cers deputed by the Prince to visit the state of his Provinces, as they punish those who be∣have themselves ill in their Places, so do they liberally reward those who have carried them∣selves

above the common sort, and beyond the necessity of their Duty; they there present themselves, not only to be approved but to get, nor simply to be paid but to be presented. No Judge, thanks be to God, has ever yet spoke to me in the quality of a Judge, upon any ac∣count whatever, whether my own, or that of another, whether Criminal or Civil; nor no Prison has ever receiv'd me, so much as upon the account of entring in to see it. Imaginati∣on renders the very outside of a Goal formida∣ble to me: I am so inamour'd of Liberty, that should I be interdicted the remotest corner of the Indies, I should live a little more uneasie. And whilst I can find either Earth or Air open in any part of the World, I shall never lurk any where, where I must hide my self. Good God! how ill should I indure the condition wherein I see so many People, nail'd to a cor∣ner of the Kingdom, depriv'd of the priviledge of entring into the principal Cities and Courts, and the liberty of the publick Roads, for ha∣ving quarrell'd with our Laws. If those under which I live, should but wag a finger at me by way of menace, I would immediately go seek out others, let them be where they would; all my little Prudence in the Civil War where∣in we are now ingag'd, is imploy'd, that they may not hinder my liberty of riding from place to place. Now the Laws keep up their credit, not for being just, but because they are Laws: It is the mystical foundation of their Authori∣ty, and they have no other; and 'tis well it is

so, for they are oft made by Fools; for the most part, by men that out of hatred to equa∣lity, go less in equity; but always by men who are vain and irresolute Authors. There is nothing so much, nor so grosly, nor so ordi∣narily faulty, as the Laws. Whoever obeys them because they are just, does not justly obey them as he ought. Our French Laws, by their irregularity and deformity, do in some sort lend a helping hand to disorder and cor∣ruption, as is manifest in their Dispensation and Execution. The Command is so perplext and inconstant, that it in some sort excuses both Disobedience, and the Vice of the inter∣pretation, the administration, and the obser∣vation of it. What fruit then soever we may extract from Experience, yet that however will little advantage our Institution, which we draw from foreign Examples; if we make so little profit of that we have of our own, which is more familiar to us, and doubtless sufficient to instruct us in that whereof we have need. I study my self more than any other Subject; 'Tis my Metaphysick, 'tis my Physick.

Qua Deus hanc mundi temperet arte domum,* 1.507 Qua venit exoriens, qua deficit, unde coactis Cornibus in plenum menstrua luna redit: Vnde salo superant venti, quid flamine captet Eurus, & in nubes unde perennis aqua. Sit ventura dies mundi quae subruat arces:* 1.508 Quaerite, quos agitat mundi labor.

By what means God the Universe does sway, Or how the pale-fac'd Sister of the day, When in increasing, can her horns unite, Till they contract into a full orb'd light. Why Winds do of the Sea the better get, Why Eurus blows, and Clouds are always wet; What day the Worlds great Fabrick must o're∣throw, Let them inquire would the Worlds secrets know.

In this Vniversity, I suffer my self to be igno∣rantly and negligently lead by the general Law of the World. I shall know it well enough when I feel it; my Learning cannot make it al∣ter its course; it will not change it self for me, 'tis folly to hope it; and a greater folly to concern a man's self about it, seeing it is ne∣cessarily alike, publick and common. The bounty and capacity of the Governour ought absolutely to discharge us of all care of the Go∣vernment. Philosophical Inquisitions and Con∣templations serve for no other use but to in∣crease our Curiosity. Philosophers, with great reason, send us back to the Rules of Nature; but they have nothing to do with so sublime a Knowledge; they falsifie them, and present us her face painted with too high and too adul∣terate a Complexion, from whence spring so many different pictures of so uniform a Sub∣ject; as she has given us feet to walk withall, so has she given us Prudence to guide us in Life: not such an ingenious, robust, and majestick Prudence as that of their Invention;

but yet one that is easie, quiet, and salutiferous; and that very well performs what the other promises, in him who has the good luck to know how to employ it sincerely and regular∣ly, that is to say, according to Nature. The most simply to commit a mans self to Nature, is to do it the most wisely. Oh, what a soft, easie, and wholsom Pillow is ignorance and incuri∣osity, whereon to repose a well contriv'd Head! I had rather understand my self well in my self, than in Cicero; of the Experience I have of my self, I find enough to make me wise, if I were but a good Scholar. Whoever will call to mind the excess of his past Anger, and to what a degree that feaver transports him, will see the deformity of this passion better than in Aristo∣tle, and conceive a more just hatred against it. Whoever will remember the hazards he has run of those that threaten'd him, and the light occasions that have remov'd him from one state to another, will by that prepare himself for fu∣ture changes, and the acknowledgment of his Condition. The Life of Caesar himself has no greater Example for us than our own, and though popular and commanding, is still a Life contingent to all humane Accidents. Let us but listen to it, and we apply to our selves all whereof we have principal need. Whoever shall call to memory how many, and how many times he has been mistaken in his own Judg∣ment, is he not a great fool if he does not ever after suspect it? When I find my self con∣vinc'd by the Reason of another of a false Opi∣nion,

I do not so much learn what he has said to me that is new, and my own particular Ig∣norance, that would be no great purchase, as I do in general my own debility, and the trea∣chery of my Understanding, from whence I extract the reformation of the whole mass. In all my other Errors I do the same, and find from this Rule great utility to Life, I regard not the Species and individual, as a Stone that I have stumbled at; I learn to suspect my steps throughout, and am careful to place them right. To learn that a man has said or done a foolish thing, is a thing of nothing. A man must learn that he is nothing but a fool, a much more ample and important Instruction. The false steps that my Memory has so often made, even then when it was most secure and confi∣dent of it self, are not idly thrown away, it may now swear to me, and assure me as much as it will, I shake my Ears, and dare not trust it, the first opposition that is made to my Te∣stimony, puts me into suspence; and I durst not rely upon it in any thing of moment, nor warrant it in another bodies concerns: and were it not that what I do for want of Me∣mory, others do more often for want of Faith; I should always in matter of fact, rather choose to take truth from anothers mouth than my own. If every one would pry into the effects and circumstances of the Passions that sway him, as I have done into that which I am most subject to; he would see them coming, and would a little break their impetuosity and ca∣reer,

they do not always seize us on a sudden, there is threatning and degrees.

Fluctus uti primo caepit cum albesoere ponto, Paulatim sese tollit mare & altius und••s* 1.509 Erigit, inde imo consurgit and athera fundo.

As the Sea first begins to foam and fret, Thence higher swells, higher, and higher yet, Till at the last the Waves so high do rise, As seems to bid defiance to the Skies.

Judgment holds in me a presidial seat, at least, it carefully endeavours to make it so: it lets my Appetites take their own course, as al∣so hatred and friendship; nay, even that I bear to my self, without feeling alteration or corrup∣tion. If it cannot reform the other parts ac∣cording to its own model, at least it suffers not it self to be corrupted by them, but plays its game apart. That Advertisement to every one to know themselves, should be of impor∣tant effect, since the God of Wisdom and Light caused it to be writ on the front of his Tem∣ple, as comprehending all he had to advise us. Plato says also, that Prudence is no other thing but the execution of this Ordinance; and So∣crates does minutely verifie the same in Xeno∣phon. The difficulties and obscurity are not dis∣cern'd in any Science, but by those that are got into it, for a certain degree of Intelligence is requir'd to be able to know that a man knows not: and we must thrust against a

Door to know whether it be bolted against us or no. From whence this Platonick subtilty springs, that neither they who know are to in∣quire, forasmuch as they know, nor they who do not know, for as much as to inquire they must know what they inquire of. So in this of knowing a man's self, that every man is seen so resolv'd and satisfi'd with himself, and that every man thinks himself sufficiently intelli∣gent, signifies, that every one understands no∣thing at all; as Socrates gives Euthydamus to understand. I, who profess nothing else, do therein find so infinite a depth and variety, that all the fruit I have reap'd from my Lear∣ning, serves only to make me sensible how much I have to learn. To my weakness, so of∣ten confess'd, I owe the propension I have to modesty, to the obedience of belief impos'd upon me, to a constant coldness and modera∣tion of Opinions, and a hatred of that trouble∣some and wrangling arrogancy, wholly belie∣ving and trusting in it self, the capital Enemy of Discipline and Truth. Do but hear them prate and domineer, the first fopperies they utter, 'tis in the style wherewith men establish Religions and Laws.* 1.510 Nihil est turpius quam cognitioni, & perceptioni, assertionem, approba∣tionemque precurrere. Nothing is more absur'd, than that Assertion and Allowance should preceed Knowledge and Precept. Aristarchus said, that anciently there were seven Sages to be found in the World, and in his time scarce so many Fools. Have not we more reason than he to

say so in this Age of ours. Affirmation and Obstinacy are express signs of want of Wit. A fellow has stumbled and broke his Nose a hundred times in a day, and yet he will be at his Ergo's as resolute and brave as before; so that one would conclude he had had some new Soul and vigour of Understanding infus'd into him since; and that it happen'd to him, as to that ancient Son of the Earth, who took new Resolutions, and was made more daring by his fall.

— cui cum tetigere parentem* 1.511 Jam defecta vigent renovato robore membra.

Whose broken Limbs upon his Mother laid, Immediately new force and vigour had.

Does not this incorrigible Coxcomb think that he reassumes a new understanding by underta∣king a new dispute? 'Tis by my own experi∣ence that I accuse humane ignorance, which is, in my Opinion, the surest part of the Worlds School. Such as will not conclude it so in themselves, by so vain an Example as mine, or their own, let them believe it from Socrates, the Master of Masters. For the Philosopher An∣tisthenes to his Disciples, Let us go, said he, and hear Socrates, I will be a Pupil with you. And maintaining this Doctrine of the Stoical Sect, That Virtue was sufficient to make a Life com∣pleatly happy, having no need of any other thing whatever, he added, If not of the form of Socrates. The long attention that I imploy

in considering my self, does also fit me to judge tollerably of others; and there are few things whereof I speak better, and with better ex∣cuse. I happen very oft more exactly to see and distinguish the conditions of my Friends, than they do themselves. I have astonish'd some with the pertinence of my description, and have given them warning of themselves. By having from my Infancy been accustomed to contemplate my own Life in those of others, I have acquir'd a Complexion studious in that particular. And when I am once intent upon it, I let few things about me, whether Coun∣tenances, Humours, or Discourses, that serve to that purpose, escape me. I study all, both what I am to avoid, and what I am to do. Al∣so in my Friends, I discover by their producti∣ons their inward inclinations; not to order this infinite variety of so diverse and distracted Actions into certain Genders and Chapters, and distinctly to distribute my parcels and divisions under known heads and classes.

* 1.512Sed neque quàm multae species, & nomine quae sint Est numerus.

But not the number of their kind and names, They are too many.

The wise speak and deliver their Fancies more particularly, and handle them piece by piece. I, who see no further into things than as usance informs me, generally present mine without

Method, and also as an Inquirer. As in this, I pronounce my Sentence by loose and unknit Articles; 'tis a thing that cannot be spoke at once, and in gross. Relation and Conformity are not to be found in such low and common Souls as ours. Wisdom is a solid and intire building, of which every piece keeps its place, and carries its mark.* 1.513 Sola Sapientia in se toto conversa est. Wisdom only is wholly turn'd into it self. I leave it to Artists, and I know not whe∣ther or no they will be able to bring it about in so perplex'd a thing, to marshall into di∣stinct Bodies this infinite diversity of Faces, to settle our Inconstancy, and set it in order. I do not only find it hard to piece our Actions to one another, but I moreover find it very hard properly to design them every one by themselves by any principal quality, so ambi∣guous and variform they are by several lights. That which is remark'd for rare in Perseus King of Macedon, that his Mind fixing it self to no one condition, wander'd in all sorts of living, and represented Manners so wild and uncouth, that he was neither known by him∣self, or any other, what kind of man he was, seems almost to fill all the World. And espe∣cially I have seen another of his stature, to whom I think this Conclusion might more pro∣perly be apply'd; No moderate settledness, still running headlong from one extream to ano∣ther, upon occasions not to be ghess'd at; no manner of course without traverse and won∣derful contrariety; nor no one quality simple

and unmixt; so that the best guess men can one day make, will be, that he affected and studied to make himself known, by being not to be known. A man had need have long Ears to hear himself frankly censur'd. And being there are few that can endure to hear it with∣out being nettled, those who hazard the un∣dertaking it to us, manifest a singular effect of Friendship; for 'tis to love sincerely indeed, to attempt to hurt and offend us for our own good. I think it rude to censure a man whose ill Qualities are more than his good ones. Pla∣to requires three things in him that will exa∣mine the Soul of another, to wit, Knowledge, good Will, and Boldness. I was once ask'd where I should have thought my self fit for, had any one design'd to make use of me in my younger Years.

* 1.514Dum melior Vires Sanguis dabat, aemula nedum Temporibus geminis canebat sparsa senectus.

Whilst better Blood my Limbs with Vigour fed, And e're old Age had snow'd upon my Head.

For nothing said I. And I am willing enough to profess not knowing how to do any thing, that I may so be excus'd from enslaving my self to another. But I had told these truths to that Master of mine, and had controul'd his Manners, if he had so pleas'd; not in gross by scholastick Lessons, which I understand not, and from which I see no true Reformation

spring in those that do; but by observing them by leisure, at all Opportunities, and sim∣ply and naturally judging them as an Eye Wit∣ness, distinctly one by one; giving him to un∣derstand upon what terms he was in the com∣mon Opinion, in opposition to his Flatterers. There is none of us that would not be worse than Kings, if so continually corrupted as they are with that sort of Vermine. But what if Alexander, that great King and Philosopher, could not defend himself from them? I should have Fidelity, Judgment, and Liberty enough for that purpose. It would be a nameless Of∣fice otherwise, both in its Grace and Effect; and 'tis a part that is not indifferently fit for all men. For Truth it self has not the Privi∣ledge to be spoke at all times, and in all sorts, the use of it, noble as it is, has its Circumscrip∣tions and Limits. It oft falls out, as the World now goes, that a man lets it slip into the Ear of a Prince, not only to no purpose, but more∣over injuriously and unjustly. And no man shall make me believe that a virtuous Remon∣strance may not be viciously apply'd, and that the interest of the Substance is not oft to give place to that of the Form. For such a purpose, I would have a man that is content with his own Fortune;

Quod sit esse velit, nihilque malit.* 1.515

Who likes that present state of his, And would not be but what he is.

and meanly born; forasmuch as on one side he would not be afraid to touch his Masters Heart to the quick, for fear by that means of losing his preferment: and on the other side, being of mean quailty, he would have more easie Com∣munication with all sorts of People: and I would have this Office limited to only one, for to allow the Priviledge of this Liberty and Privacy to many, would beget an inconveni∣ent Irreverence; and even of that one too, I would above all things require the Fidelity of Silence. A King is not to be believ'd when he brags of his Constancy in standing the shock of the Enemy for his Glory, if for his Profit and Amendment, he cannot stand the Liberty of a Friends Advice, which has no other Power but to pinch his Ear, the remainder of its ef∣fect being still in his own Hands. Now there is no Condition of Men whatever who stand in so great need of true and free advertisement as they do. They support the publick Life, and are to satisfie the Opinion of so many Spectators, that when men have us'd to con∣ceal from them whatever should divert them from their own way, they insensibly have found themselves involv'd in the hatred and detestation of their People,* 1.516 sometimes up∣on so slight Occasions as they might have avoided without any prejudice even of their Pleasures themselves, had they been advis'd and set right in time. Their Favorites com∣monly have more regard to themselves, than they have to their Master; and indeed it stands

them upon, forasmuch as in truth most Offices of true friendships, when apply'd to the Sove∣reign, are under a rude and dangerous hazard; so that therein there is great need, not only of very great Affection and Freedom, but of Courage too. To conclude all this Hodg-podg which I scribble, here is nothing but a Regi∣ster of Essays of my own Life, which for the internal soundness is exemplary enough to take instruction against the Hair; but as to bodily health, no man can furnish out more profita∣ble Experience than I, who present it pure, and no way corrupted and chang'd by Art or Opinion. Experience is properly upon its own Dung-hill in the Subject of Physick, where Reason wholly gives it place. Tyberius said, that whoever had liv'd twenty years, ought to be responsible to himself for all things that were hurtful or wholsome to him, and know how to order himself without Physick. And he might have learnt it of Socrates, who, advi∣sing his Disciples to be sollicitous of their Health, as the chiefest study, added, that it was hard if a man of Sense, having a care of his Exercises and Diet, did not better know than any Physician, what was good or ill for him. And also Physick does profess always to have Experience for the touch of its Operati∣ons. And Plato had reason to say, that to be a right Physician, it would be necessary that he who would take it upon him, should first himself have pass'd through all the Diseases he will pretend to cure, and thorough all the Ac∣cidents

and Circumstances whereof he is to judge. 'Tis but Reason they should get the Pox if they will know how to cure it; for my part, I should put my self into such hands: for the others but guide us like him who paints the Sea-Rocks and Ports upon his Cloth, and there makes the Figure of a Ship to sail in all security; and put him to't in earnest, he knows not at which end to begin. They make such a Description of our Maladies, as a Town-Crier does of a lost Horse or Dog, such a Colour, such a Height, such an Ear; but bring him to him, and he knows him not for all that. God grant that Physick may one day give me some good and visible relief, namely, when I shall cry out in good earnest.

* 1.517Tandem efficaci, do manus Scientiae.

The Arts that promise to keep our Bodies and Souls in Health, promise a great deal, but with∣all, there is none that less keep their Promise. And in our times, those that make profession of these Arts amongst us, less manifest the Ef∣fects than any other sort of men. One may say of them at the most, that they sell Medici∣nal Drugs, but that they are Physicians a man cannot say. I have liv'd long enough to be able to give an account of the Custom that has carried me so far. And, for whoever has a mind to read it, as his Taster, I give him this Essay, wherein he will find some Articles, as my Memory shall supply me with them.

I have no Custom that has not varied ac∣cording to accidents; but I only record those that I have been best acquainted with, and that hitherto have had the greatest possession of me. My form of Life is the same in Sick∣ness that it is in Health, the same Bed, the same Houses, the same Meat, and the same Drink serve me in both Conditions alike; I add nothing to them but the moderation of more or less, according to my Strength and Appetite. My Health is to maintain my wont∣ed state without disturbance. I see that sick∣ness puts me off it on one side, and if I will be rul'd by the Physicians, they will put me off on the other; so that by Fortune and by Art I am out of my way. I believe nothing more certainly than this, that I cannot be offended by the usage of things to which I have been so long accustom'd. 'Tis for Custom to give a form to a mans Life, such as it best pleases, she is all in all in that: 'Tis the Beverage of Circe that varies our Nature as she pleases best. How many Nations, and but three steps from us, think the fear of the serene that so manifestly is hurtful to us, a ridiculous fancy, and our Water-men and Peasants despise it. You make a German sick if you lay him upon a Quilt, as you do an Italian if you lay him on a Feather∣bed; and a French-man without Curtains or Fire. A Spanish Stomach cannot hold out to eat as we can, nor ours to drink like the Swiss. A German made me very merry at Augusta, with disputing the inconvenience of our

Hearths, by the same Arguments which we commonly make use of in decrying their Stoves: For, to say the truth, that smother'd heat, and then the scent of that heated matter of which the Fire is compos'd, very much offend such as are not us'd to them; not me. But as to the rest, the Heat being always equal, con∣stant, and universal, without flame, without smoke, and without the wind that comes down our Chimnies, they may many ways in∣duce comparison with ours. Why do we not imitate the Roman Architecture? For, they say, that anciently Fires were not made in their Houses, but on the outside, and at the foot of them, from whence the heat was con∣vey'd to the whole Fabrick by Pipes con∣triv'd in the Wall, which were drawn twining about the Rooms that were to be warm'd: Which I have seen plainly describ'd some∣where in Seneca. This Gentleman hearing me commend the Conveniences and Beauties of his City, which truly deserves it, began to la∣ment me that I was to go away. And the first inconvenience he alledg'd to me was, the heaviness that the Chimneys elsewhere brought upon me. He had heard some one make this Complaint, and fixt it upon us, being by Custom depriv'd of the means of perceiving it at home. All heat that comes from the Fire makes me weak and dull, and yet Evenus said, that Fire was the best condiment of Life. I rather chuse any other way of making my self warm. We are afraid to drink our Wines

when toward the bottom of the Vessel;* 1.518 in Portugal those Fumes are reputed delicate, and is the Bev••rage of Princes. In fine, every Na∣tion has several Customs and Usances, that are not only unknown but savage and miraculous to some others. What should we do with those People who admit of no Testimonies, if not printed, who believe not men if not in a Book, nor truth, if not of competent Age? We dignifie our fopperies when we commit them to the Press. 'Tis of great deal more weight to him you speak of, to say, I have seen such a thing▪ than if you only say, I have heard such a thing. But I, who no more disbelieve a man's Mouth than his Pen, and who know that men write as indiscreetly as they speak, and that esteem this Age as much as one that's past, do as soon quote a Friend of my Ac∣quaintance as Aulus Gellius or Macrobius, and what I have seen, as what they have writ. And, as 'tis held of Virtue, that it is not grea∣ter for having continu'd longer, so do I hold of Truth, that for being older it is not wiser. I often say, that it is meer folly that makes us run after strange and scholastick Examples; their fertility is the same now that it was in the time of Homer and Plato. But is it not that we derive more honour from the quotation than from the truth of the Discourse? As if it were to borrow our proof from the Shops of Vascasan or of Plantin, than of what is to be seen in our own Village: Or else indeed, that we have not the wit to cull out and make

useful what we see before us, and judge of it lively enough to draw it into Example. For if we say that we want authority to procure faith to our testimony, we speak from the purpose; forasmuch as, in my opinion, of the most ordinary, common, and known things, could we but find out their light, the greatest miracles of Nature might be form'd, and the most wonderful Examples, especially upon the subject of humane actions. Now upon the Sub∣ject I am speaking of, setting aside the Exam∣ples I have gathered from Books, and what Aristotle says of Andron the Argian, that he travell'd over the arid Sands of Lybia without drinking; a Gentleman, who has very well behav'd himself in several Employments, said, in a place where I was, that he had rid from Madrid to Lisbon in the heat of Summer, with∣out any Drink at all; He is very healthful, and vigorous for his Age, and has nothing ex∣traordinary in the usance of his Life, but this, to live sometimes two or three months, nay, a whole year without drinking. He is some∣times a thirst, but he lets it pass over, and holds, it is an Appetite which easily goes off of it self, and drinks more out of humour, than either for need or pleasure. Here is another Example; 'Tis not long ago, that I found one of the Learned'st men in France, among those of the greatest Fortunes, studying in a corner of a Hall that they had separated for him with Ta∣pestry, and about him a rabble of his Servants, that you may be sure were rude and loud

enough. He told me, and Seneca almost says the same of himself, he made an advantage of this noise; as if beaten with this rattle, he so much the better recollected and retir'd him∣self into himself for Contemplation, and that this tempest of Voices repercuss'd his thoughts within himself. Being at Padua, he had his Study so long scituated in the rattle of Coach∣es, and the Tumult of the publick place, that he not only form'd himself to the contempt, but even to the use of noise, for the service of his Studies. Socrates answer'd Alcibiades, who being astonish'd at his Patience, ask'd him how he could endure the perpetual scolding of his Wife, Why, said he, as those do who are accu∣stom'd to the ordinary noise of wheels to draw Water. I am quite otherwise, I have a tender Head, and easily discompos'd, when 'tis bent upon any thing, the least buzzing of a Fly tears it into pieces. Seneca, in his youth, ha∣ving, by the Example of Sextius, put on a positive resolution of eating nothing but what died of it self, pass'd over a whole year in this Diet, and, as he said, with pleasure, and only left it off, that he might not be suspected of ta∣king up this Rule from some new Religion, by which it was prescrib'd. But he took up with∣all, from the Precepts of Attalus, a custom, not to lye any more upon any sort of bedding that yielded under a man's weight, but even to his old age made use of such as would not yield to any pressure. What the usance of his time made him account Authority, that of ours

makes us look upon as Effeminacy and Ease. Do but observe the difference betwixt the way of living of my Laborers, and that of mine; the Indies have nothing more remote both from my Force and Method. I know very well, that I have pick'd up Boys from begging to serve me, who soon after have quitted both my Kitchin and Livery, only that they might return to their former course of Life: and found one afterwards gathering Mussels out of the Sink for his Dinner, whom I could nei∣ther by Intreaties nor Threats, reclaim from the sweetness he found in Indigence. Beggars have their Magnificences and Delights as well as the Rich; and, 'tis said, their Dignities and Poli∣ticks. These are the Effects of Custom, she can mould us not only into what form she pleases, (and yet the Sages say, we ought to apply our selves to the best, which she will soon make easie to us) but also to change and variation, which is the most noble and most usefull of all she makes us perfect in. The best of my bodily perfection is, that I am flexible, and ve∣ry little obstinate. I have Inclinations more proper and ordinary, and more agreeable than others; but I am diverted from them with ve∣ry little ado, and easily slip into a contrary course. A young man ought to cross his own Rules to awake his Vigour, and to keep it from growing faint and rusty. And there is no course of Life so weak and sottish, as that which is carried on by Rule and Disci∣pline.

Ad primum lapidem vectari complacet,* 1.519 hora Sumitur ex libro, si prurit frictus ocelli Angulus, inspecta genesi collyria quaerit.

If he but of a mile a walk would take, He for the hour consults his Almanack; If he but rub the corner of his eye, He chooses Salve by his Nativity.

He shall oft throw himself even into Excesses, if he will take my advice, otherwise the least Debauch will ruine him. He will render him∣self uneasie, and disagreeable in conversation. The worst quality in a well bred man is deli∣cacy, and an obligation to a certain particu∣lar way: and it is particular, if not pliable and supple. It is a kind of reproach not to be able, or not to dare to do what we see others do before us. Let such as those sit at home. It is in every man indecent, but in a Souldier vicious and intolerable; who, as Philopoemenes said, ought to accustom himself to all variety and inequality of Life. Though I have been brought up, as much as was pos∣sible, to liberty and indifference, yet so it is, that growing old, and having more settled upon certain forms (my Age is now past In∣struction, and I have henceforward nothing to do but to keep it up as well as I can) Cu∣stom has already, e're I was aware, so imprint∣ed its Character in me, in certain things, that I look upon it as a kind of excess to leave them off. And, without a force upon my self,

cannot sleep in the day-time, nor eat between meals, nor break-fast, nor go to bed, without a great interval betwixt eating and sleeping, as of three hours after Supper; nor get Chil∣dren but before I sleep, and never standing upon my feet, nor endure my own Sweat, nor quench my thirst either with pure Wa∣ter or Wine, nor keep my head long bare, nor cut my hair after dinner; and should be as uneasie without my Gloves as without my Shirt, or without washing when I rise from Table, or out of my bed; and could not lye without a Canopy and Curtains, as if they were necessary things: I could dine without a Table-cloth, but without a clean Napkin, after the German fashion, very incommodi∣ously. I foul them more than they, or the Italians do, and make but little use either of Spoon or Fork. I am sorry that the same is not in use amongst us, that I see the Example of in Kings; which is, to change our Napkins at every service, as they do our Plates. We are told of that laborious Souldier Marius, that growing old, he became nice in his Drink∣ing, and never drank but out of a peculiar Cup of his own. I, in like manner, have suf∣fer'd my self to fancy a certain form, of Glas∣ses, and do not willingly drink in common Glasses, no more than from a common hand: All metal offends me in comparison of a clear and transparent matter: let my eyes taste too, according to their capacity. I owe several other such niceties to Custom. Nature has also

on the other side helpt me to some of hers, as no more to be able to endure two full meals in one day without overcharging my Stomach, nor a total abstinence from one of those meals, without filling my self with Wind, drying up my Mouth, and dulling my Appetite, and find∣ing great inconvenience in the Evening Air. For of late years, in night marches, which of∣ten happen to be all night long, after five or six hours my Stomach begins to be queasie, with a violent pain in my Head, so that I al∣ways vomit before the day can break. When others go to break-fast I go to sleep, and when I rise, am as brisk and gay as before. I had al∣ways been told, that the serene never desperst it self but in the beginning of the Night; but for certain years past, long and familiar frequenting a Lord possess'd with this Opini∣on, that the serene is more sharp and dangerous about the declining of the Sun, an hour or two before his Set, which he carefully avoids, and despises that of the Night; he had almost imprinted in me, not only his Discourse, but his Opinion. What, shall the very doubt and inquisition wound our Imagination so as to turn to our Inconvenience? Such as absolutely and on a sudden give way to their Propensions, put a total ruine upon themselves. And I am sorry for several Gentlemen, who, through the Folly of their Physicians, have in their Youth and Health put themselves into Consumptions. It were yet better to endure a Cough, than by disusance for ever to lose the commerce of the

common Life in an Action of so great use. Ill natur'd Science, to interdict us the sweetest and most pleasant hours of the Day: Let us keep Possession of it to the last. For the most part a man hardens himself by being obstinate, and corrects his Constitution; as Caesar did the Falling-sickness, by dint of Contempt. A man should addict himself to the best Rules, but not inslave himself to them; if not to such, if there be any such, to which the Obligation and Servitude are of Profit. Both Kings and Philosophers go to stool, and Ladies too; pub∣lick Lives are bound to Ceremony, mine that is obscure and private, enjoys all natural Dis∣pensation. Souldier and Gascon are also quali∣ties a little subject to Indiscretion, wherefore I shall say this of this action of exonerating Na∣ture, that it is necessary to referr it to certain prescrib'd and nocturnal Hours, and force a mans self to it by Custom, as I have done; but not to subject himself, as I have done in my de∣clining years, to a particular Convenience of Place and Seat for that purpose, and make it troublesome by long sitting: and yet in the foulest Offices, is it not in some measure ex∣cusable to require more care and cleanliness? Natura homo mundum,* 1.520 & elegans animal est. Man is by Nature a clean and elegant Creature. Of all the actions of Nature, I am the most im∣patient of being interrupted in that. I have seen many Souldiers troubled with the unruli∣ness of their Bellies, whilst mine and I never fail of our punctual assignation, which is at

leaping out of Bed, if some indispensable Busi∣ness, or Sickness do not molest us. I do then think, as I said before, that sick men can better place themselves any where in better safety than in sitting still in that course of Life where∣with they have been bred and train'd up. Alteration, be it what it will, does distemper and astonish. Can any believe that Chest-nuts can hurt a Perigourdin, or one of Luca; or Milk and Cheese the Mountain People: men enjoy them not only a new, but a contrary Method of Life, a change that the more health∣full could not endure. Prescribe Water to a Breton of threescore and ten, shut a Sea-man up in a Stove, and forbid a Basque Foot-man walking, they will deprive them of Motion, and in the end, of Air and Light.

— an vivere tanti est? Cogimur à suctis animum suspendere rebus* 1.521 Atque ut vivamus vivere desinimus. Hoc superesse reor quibus & spirabilis aer Et lux qua regimur, redditur ipsa gravis.

Is Life of such a mighty consequence? We must accustom'd things quite over give, And that we may live, we must cease to live; I can't imagine they should longer live, Whom light and air, by which they live, do grieve.

If they do no other good, they do this at least, that they prepare Patients betimes for Death, by little and little undermining and cutting

off the usage of Life. Both well and sick, I have ever willingly suffer'd my self to obey the Appetites that prest upon me. I give great Authority to my propensions and desires. I do not love to cure one Disease by another. I hate remedies that are more troublesom than the Disease it self. To be subject to the Stone, and subject to abstain from eating Oysters, are two Evils instead of one. The Disease tor∣ments us on the one side, and the remedy on the other. Since we are ever in danger of mi∣staking, let us rather hazard, rather deferr the discovery of the mistake till after pleasure. The World proceeds quite contrary, and thinks nothing profitable that is not painful; Faci∣lity stands suspected to it. My Appetite is in several things of it self happily enough ac∣commodated to the health of my Stomach. Acrimony and quickness in Sawces were plea∣sant to me when young, but my Stomach dis∣liking them, since my Taste incontinently fol∣low'd. Wine is hurtful to sick People; and 'tis the first thing that my mouth disrelishes when I am sick, and with an invincible dis∣taste. Whatever I take against my liking, does me harm; and nothing hurts me that I eat with Appetite and delight; I never receiv'd harm by any action that was very pleasant to me; and accordingly have made all Medicinal conclusions mightily give way to my Plea∣sure. And have, when I was young,

Quem circumcursans huc, atque huc saepe cupido* 1.522 Fulgebat crocina splendidus in tunica.

Whilst Cupid round me fluttering did fly, In his rich mantle of the Tycian die.

given my self the reins as licentiously and in∣considerately to the desire that was predomi∣nant in me, as any other whatever;

Et militavi non sine gloria.* 1.523

yet more in continuation and holding out than in Sally.

Sex me vix memini sustinuisse vices.* 1.524

'Tis certainly a misfortune, and a miracle at once, to confess at what a tender age I was first subjected to Love: it was indeed by chance; for it was long before the years of Choice or Discretion: I do not remember my self so long ago. And my Fortune may very well be coupled to that of Quartilla, who could not remember since she was a Maid.

Inde tragus celeresque pili,* 1.525 mirandaque matri Barba mea.

Physicians do ordinarily submit their Rules to the violent Longings that happen to sick Per∣sons, with very good success. This great de∣sire, so strange and vicious, cannot be imagin'd

to be, but that Nature must have a hand in it. And then how easie a thing is it to satisfie the Fancy? In my opinion, this part wholly car∣ries it, at least, above all the rest. The most grievous and ordinary Wills are those that Fancy loads us with. This Spanish Saying mightily pleases in several senses; Defienda me Dios de my. God defend me from my self. I am sorry when I am sick, that I have not some longing that might give me the contentment of satisfying it; all the Rules of Physick would hardly be able to divert me; I do the same when I am well. I can think of very little more to be hop'd or wish'd for. 'Tis pity a man should be so weak and languishing, as to have nothing left him but wishing. The Art of Physick is not so resolute, that we should be without Authority for whatever we do; it changes according to the Climates and Moons, according to Fernelius and Scala. If your Physician•• do not think it good for you to sleep, to drink Wine, or to eat such and such Meats; never trouble your self, I will find you another that shall not be of his Opinion; the diversity of Physical Arguments and Opinions embraces all sorts of Methods. I saw a misera∣ble sick Person panting and burning for thirst, that he might be cur'd; and was afterwards laugh'd at by another Physician for his pains, who condemn'd that advice as prejudicial to him: had he not tormented himself to good purpose? A man of that Profession is lately dead of the Stone, who had made use of extream

abstinence to contend with his Disease. His fellow Physicians said, that on the contrary, this abstinence from Drink had dried his Bo∣dy up, and bak'd the Gravel in his Kidneys. I have observ'd, that both in Wounds and Sicknesses, speaking discomposes and hurts me as much as any disorder I can commit. My Voice spends and tires me, for 'tis loud and forc'd; so that when I have gone to whisper some great Persons about Affairs of Conse∣quence, they have oft desired me to moderate my Voice. This Story deserves a place here. Some one in a certain Greek School, speaking loud as I do, the Master of the Ceremonies sent to him to speak softly, Tell him then he must send me, reply'd the other, the tone he would have me speak in. To which the other reply'd, That he should take the tone from the Ears of him to whom he spake. It was well said, if to be understood, Speak according to the Affair you are speaking about to your Auditor, for if it mean, 'tis sufficient that he hears you, or govern your self by him; I do not find it to be reason. The tone and motion of my Voice carries with it a great deal of the Expression and Significati∣on of my meaning, and 'tis I who am to go∣vern it, to make my self understood. There is a Voice to instruct, a Voice to flatter, and a Voice to reprehend. I will not only that my Voice reach him, but peradventure that it strike and pierce him. When I rattle my Foot-man with sharp and bitter Language, it would be very pretty for him to say, Pray Master speak

lower, I hear you very well. Est quaedam Vox ad auditum accomodata, non Magnitudine sed Pro∣prietate. There is a certain Voice accomodated to the Hearing, not by the Loudness, but Propriety. Speaking is half his that speaks, and half his that hears; the last of which ought to prepare himself to receive it, according to its motion and rebound. Like Tennis Players, he that re∣ceives the Ball, shifts and prepares, according as he sees him move who strikes the stroke, and according to the stroke it self. Experience has moreover taught me this, that we lose our selves with impatience. Evils have their Life and Limits, their Diseases, and their Recove∣ry; the Constitution of Maladies is form'd by the pattern of the Constitution of Animals, they have their Fortunes and Days limited from their Birth. Whoever attempts imperi∣ously to cut them short by force in the middle of their Course, does lengthen and multiply them, and incenses instead of appeasing them. I am of Crantor's Opinion, that we are neither obstinately and wilfully to oppose Evils, nor truckle under them for want of Courage, but that we are naturally to give way to them, ac∣cording to their Condition and our own, we ought to grant free passage to Diseases: And I find they stay less with me, who let them alone. And I have lost those which are reputed the most tenacious and obstinate of their own defervescence, without any Help or Art, and contrary to their Rules. Let us a little permit Nature to take her own way; she better un∣derstands

her own Affairs than we. But such a one died, and so shall you, if not of that Di∣sease, of another. And how many have not escap'd dying, who have their Physicians al∣ways at their tails? Example is a bright and universal mirror, and in all Sciences. If it be a delicious Medicine, take it, 'tis always so much present good. I will never stick at the Name nor the Colour, if it be pleasant and gratefull to the Pallat: Pleasure is one of the chiefest kinds of profit. I have suffer'd Rheums, gouty Defluxions, Relaxations, Palpitations of the Heart, Meagrims, and other Accidents, to grow old, and dye in me a natural Death, which I have been rid of when I was half fit to nourish and keep them. They are sooner prevail'd upon by Courtesie than huffing; we must patiently suffer the Laws of our Condi∣tion, we are born to grow old, to grow weak, and to be sick in despite of all Medicine. 'Tis the first Lesson the Mexicans teach their Chil∣dren; so soon as ever they come out of their Mothers Wombs, they thus salute them, Thou art come into the World Child, to endure, endure, suffer, and say nothing. 'Tis injustice to lament that that is befallen any one, which may befall every one. Indignare si quid in te iniqui, pro∣prie constitutum est. Then be angry when there is any thing unjustly decree'd against thee alone. See an old man who begs of God Almighty that he will maintain his Health vigorous and en∣tire, that is to say, that he will restore him to Youth:

* 1.526Stat quid haec frustra votis puerilibus optas?

Why pray'st thou Fool such childish Prayers in vain?

Is it not folly? his condition is not capable of it. The Gout, the Stone, and Indigestion, are symptoms of long Years, as Heat, Rains and Winds, are of long Voyages. Plato does not believe that Esculapius troubled himself to pro∣vide by a good dyet to prolong his Life in a weak and wasted Body, useless to his Coun∣try, and to his Profession, and to beget health∣full and robust Children; and does not think this Solitude suitable to the Divine Justice and Prudence, which is to direct all things to Utility. My good Friend, your Business is done, no body can restore you, they can at the most but patch you up, and prop you a little, and by that means prolong your misery an hour or two.

* 1.527Non secus instantem cupiens fulcire ruinam, Diversis contra nititur obicibus, Donec certa dies omni compage soluta, Ipsum cum rebus subruat auxilium.

Like one, who willing to deferr a while A sudden ruine, props the tottering pile, Till in short space the House, the props, and all Together with a dreadful ruine fall.

We must learn to suffer what we cannot evade. Our Life, like the harmony of the World, is

compos'd of contrary things, of several notes, sweet and harsh, sharp and flat, spritely and solemn; and the Musician who should only affect one of these, what would he be able to do? He must know how to make use of them all, and to mix them; and we likewise, the goods and evils which are consubstantial with Life: Our Being cannot subsist without this mixture, and the one are no less necessary to it than the other. To attempt to kick against natural necessity, is to represent the folly of Ctesiphon,* 1.528 who undertook to kick with his Mule. I consult little about the alterations I feel; for those People take advantage when they have you at their mercy. They cudgel your ears with their Prognosticks; and having formerly surpriz'd me, weaken'd with sickness, have injuriously handled me with their Do∣ctrines and magisterial fopperies; one while menacing me with great Pains, and another, with approaching Death; by which threats I was indeed mov'd and shook, but not sub∣du'd, nor justled from my place; and though my Judgment was neither alter'd nor distra∣cted, yet it was at least disturb'd. 'Tis always Agitation and Combat. Now I use my imagi∣nation as gently as I can, and would discharge it of all trouble and contest if I could. A man must assist, flatter, and deceive it, if he can. My mind is fit for that Office. It wants no appearances throughout. And could it per∣suade, as it preaches, it would successfully re∣lieve me. Will you have an Example? It tells

me that 'tis for my good to have the Stone: that the compositions of my Age are naturally to suffer some decay: that it is now time they should begin to disjoynt, and to confess a de∣cay: 'tis a common necessity, and there is no∣thing in it, either miraculous or new: I there∣in pay what is due to old Age, and I cannot expect a better account: that Society ought to comfort me, being fallen into the most common infirmity of my time.* 1.529 I see every where men tormented with the same Disease; and am honour'd by the Fellowship, forasmuch as men of the best Quality are most frequently afflicted with it; 'tis a noble and dignified Disease. That of such as are pester'd with it, few have it to a less degree of Pain, and yet they are put to the trouble of a strict Diet, and the daily taking of nauseous Drugs and Potions; whereas I owe my good intervals purely to my good Fortune. For some ordina∣ry Broths of Eringo's, or Burst-wort, that I have twice or thrice taken to oblige the La∣dies, who, with greater kindness than my Pain is extream, would needs present me half of theirs, seem'd to me equally easie to take, and fruitless in operation. They are to pay a thou∣sand Vows to Aesculapius, and as many Crowns to their Physician, for the voiding a little Gra∣vel, which I often do by the benefit of Na∣ture. Even the decency of my Countenance is not disturb'd in Company, and I can hold my Water ten hours, and as long as any man that is in perfect health. The fear of this Disease,

says one, did formerly affright thee, when it was unknown to thee; the crying and roar∣ing of those that make it worse by their impa∣tience, begot a horror in thee: 'Tis an infirmi∣ty that punishes the Members by which thou hast most offended: thou art a conscientious fellow:

Quae venit indigne poena, dolenda venit.* 1.530

Punishments then to be complain'd of are When laid upon a guiltless sufferer.

consider this chastisement, 'tis very easie in comparison of that of others, and inflicted with a Paternal tenderness: Do but observe how late it comes; it only seizes on and incommo∣dates that part of thy Life, which is upon the matter steril, and lost; having, as it were by compact, given way to the licence and pleasures of thy Youth. The fear and the compassion that the People have of this Disease, serves thee for matter of glory. A quality, whereof if thou hast thy Judgment purified, and that thy Reason be right and sound, thy Friends will yet notwith∣standing discover some tincture in thy Com∣plexion. 'Tis a pleasure to hear it said of a man's self, here is great force, here is great patience. Thou art seen to sweat with pain, to look pale and red, to tremble, vomit blood, to suffer strange contractions and convulsions, by starts to let great tears drop from thine eyes, to urine thick, black, and dreadful Water, or to have it sup∣press'd by some sharp and craggy stone, that cru∣elly

pricks and tears the neck of the Bladder, whilst all the while thou entertain'st the Com∣pany with an ordinary countenance, drolling by fits with thy Servants, making one in a conti∣nued discourse, now and then excusing thy pain, and making thy suffrance less than it is. Dost thou call to mind the men of past times, who so greedily sought Diseases to keep their Virtue in breath and exercise? Put the case that Na∣ture force and put thee on to this glorious School, into which thou wouldst never have enter'd of thy own free will. If thou tell'st me, that it is a dangerous and mortal Disease; what others are not? For 'tis a Physical cheat to except any, and to say, that they do not go directly to death: what makes matter if they tend that way by accident, and if they easily slide and slip into the path that leads us to it? But thou dost not dye because thou art sick, thou diest because thou art living. Death kills thee without the help of Sickness: And in some, Sickness has deferr'd Death, who have liv'd longer by reason that they thought them∣selves always dying. To which may be added, that as in Wounds, so in Diseases, some are medicinal and wholsom. The Cholick is oft no less long-liv'd than you. We see men with whom it has continu'd from their Infancy even to their extreme old Age, and if they had not broke company, it would have afflicted them longer still; you ofter kill it, than it kills you: And though it present you the image of ap∣proaching Death, were it not a good Office

to a man of such an Age, to put him in mind of his end? And, which is worse, thou hast no longer any thing that should make thee desire to be cur'd. Common Necessity will however presently call thee away. Do but con∣sider how artificially and gently she puts thee out of taste with Life, and weans thee from the World; not forcing and compelling thee with a tyrannical Subjection, like so many other Infirmities which you see old men af∣flicted withall, that hold them in continual Torment, and keep them in perpetual and un∣intermitted Pains and Dolors; but by Adver∣tisements and Instructions at several intervals, intermixing long pauses of repose, as it were to give thee leave to meditate and ruminate upon thy lesson at they own ease and leisure: to give thee means to judge aright, and to as∣sume the Resolution of a man of Courage, she presents to thee the intire state of thy Condi∣tion, both in good and evil, and one while a very chearfull, and another an insupportable Life, in one and the same day. If thou imbra∣cest not Death, at least thou shak'st hands with ••t once a Month; by which thou hast more cause to hope that it will one day surprise thee without warning. And that being so oft conducted to the water side, and thinking thy self to be still upon the accustom'd terms, thou and thy Confidence will at one time or ano∣ther be unexpectedly wasted over. A man can∣not reasonably complain of Diseases that fairly divide the time with Health. I am oblig'd to

Fortune for having so oft assaulted me with the same sort of weapons; she forms and fa∣shions me by usance, hardens and habituates me so, that I can know within a little for how much I shall be quit. For want of natural memory, I make one of Paper; and as any new symptom happens in my Disease, I set it down; from whence it falls out, that being now almost past all sorts of Examples, if any astonishment threaten me, tumbling over these little loose notes, as the Sybills Leaves, I never fail of finding matter of Consolation from some favourable Prognostick in my past Expe∣rience. Custom also makes me hope better for the time to come. For the Conduct of this Evacuation having so long continued, 'tis to be believ'd that Nature will not alter her course, and that no other worse accident will happen than what I already feel. And besides, the condition of this Disease is not unsuitable to my prompt and sudden Complexion. When it assaults me gently, I am afraid, for 'tis then for a great while; but it has naturally brisk and vigorous Excesses. It claws me to purpose for a day or two. My Reins hold out an Age without Alteration, and I have almost now liv'd another since they chang'd their state. Evils have their Periods as well as Goods, per∣adventure the Infirmity draws towards an end. Age weakens the heat of my Stomach, the Di∣gestion of which being less perfect, it sends this crude matter to my Reins; and why at a certain revolution may not the heat of my

Reins be also abated, so that they can no more petrifie my flegm, and Nature find out some other way of purgation: Years have e∣vidently help'd me to drain certain Rhumes; and why not these excrements which furnish matter for Gravel? But is there any thing sweet in comparison of this sudden change, when from an excessive pain, I come, by the voiding of a Stone, to recover, as from a flash of Lightning, the beautiful light of health, so free and full as it happens in our sudden and most sharp Cholicks? Is there a∣ny thing in the pain suffer'd, that a man can counterpoize to the pleasure of so sudden an amendment? Oh!* 1.531 how much does Health seem so much the more pleasant to me after so near and contiguous sickness, as that I can distinguish them in the presence of one ano∣ther in their greatest bravery, wherewith they dress themselves in emulation, as if to make head against, and to dispute it with one another! What the Stoicks say, that Vices are profitably introduc'd, to give value to, and to set off virtue; we can with better reason, and less temerity of censure, say of Nature, that she has given us pain for the honour and service of pleasure and indolence. When Socrates, after his Fetters were knock'd off, felt the pleasure of that itching which the weight of them had caus'd in his Legs, he rejoyc'd to consider the strict alliance betwixt pain and pleasure, how they are link'd together by a necessary connexion, so that by turn they

follow and mutually beget one another; and cry'd out to Aesop, that he ought out of this consideration, to have taken a Body proper for a fine Fable. The worst that I see in other diseases is, that they are not so grie∣vous in their effect, as they are in their issue. A man is a whole year in recovering, and all the while full of weakness and fear. There is so much hazzard, and so many steps to ar∣rive at safety, that there is no end on't. Be∣fore they have unmuffled you of a Handker∣chief, and then of a Callot, before they al∣low you to walk abroad and take the Air, to drink Wine, lye with your Wife, and eat Melons, 'tis odds you relapse into some new Distemper. The Stone has this priviledge, that it carries it self clean off. Whereas o∣thers always leave behind them some im∣pression and alteration, that renders the Bo∣dy subject to some new disease, and lend a hand to one another. These are excusable, that content themselves with possessing us, without extending it farther, and introdu∣cing their consequences: But courteous and kind are those whose passage brings us any profitable issue. Since I have been troubled with the Stone, I find my self freed from all other accidents, much more methinks than I was before, and have never had any Feaver since. I argue, that the extreme and frequent vomi∣tings that I am subject to, purge me; and on the other side, my nausities, and the strange Fasts I am forc'd to keep, digest my present

humours; and Nature in those Stones voids whatever there is in me of superfluous and hurtful. Let them never tell me that it is a medicine too dear bought. For what avails so many stinking Apozemes, Causticks, Inci∣sions, Sweats, Setons, Diets, and so many other methods of Cure; which oft, by reason we are not able to undergo their violence and importunity, bring us to our Graves: So that when I am ill, I look upon it as Physick, when well, for an absolute deliverance. And here is another particular benefit of my dis∣ease; which is, that it almost plays its game by it self, and lets me play mine, or else I only want Courage to do it; for in its great∣est fury, I have endured it ten Hours together on Horse-back; do but endure on∣ly, you need no other regiment: Play, Run, do this, and the t'other thing too if you can, your debauch will do you more good than harm. Say as much to one that has the Pox, the Gout, or Bursten Belly. The other diseases have more universal obligati∣ons, wrack our actions after another kind of manner, disturb our whole order, and to their consideration engage the whole state of life. This only pinches the Skin, it leaves the Understanding and the Will wholly at our own dispose, as also the Tongue, Hands and Feet. It rather awakes than stupifies you. The Soul is struck with the ardour of a Feaver, over-whelm'd with an Epilepsie, and dis∣plac'd by a sharp Megrim, and finally a∣astonish'd

by all the Diseases that hurt the whole Mass, and the most noble parts: This never meddles with the Soul. If any thing goes amiss with her, 'tis her own fault, she betrays, dismounts, and abandons her self. There are none but Fools who suffer themselves to be perswaded, that this hard and massy body which is bak'd in our Reins is to be dissolv'd by drinks; wherefore, when it is once stirr'd, their is nothing to be done but to give it passage, and also it will take it of it self. I moreover observe this parti∣cular convenience in it, that it is a disease wherein we have little to guess at. We are dispenc'd from the trouble into which other diseases throw us, by the incertainty of their Causes, Conditions and Progress. A trouble that is infinitely painful. We have no need of Consultations and Doctoral Interpretati∣ons, the sense well enough informs us both what it is and where it is. By such like Arguments, weak and strong, as Ci∣cero did the disease of his Old Age, I try to rock asleep and amass my imagination, and to dress its Wounds. If I find them worse to morrow, I will provide new remedies and applications. That this is true, I am come to that pass of late, that the least motion forces pure blood out of my Reins: And what of that, I stirr nevertheless as before, and ride after my Hounds with a Juvenile ardour; And find that I have very good satisfaction for an accident of that importance, when it

costs me no more but a little heaviness and uneasiness in that part. 'Tis some great Stone that wasts and consumes the substance of our Kidneys, and of my Life, which I by little and little evacuate, not without some natural pleasure, as an excrement hencefor∣ward superfluous and troublesome. Now if I feel any thing to rowl and stir, do not ex∣pect that I should trouble my self to consult my Pulse or my Urine, thereby to put my self upon some tormenting prevention. I shall soon enough feel the pain, without ma∣king it more and longer, by the disease of fear. Who fears to suffer, does already suffer what he fears. To which may be added, that the Doubts and Ignorance of those who take upon them to expound the designs of Nature and her internal Progressions, and the many false Prognosticks of their Art, ought to give us to understand that her ways are in∣scrutable and utterly unknown. There is great uncertainty, variety and obscurity,* 1.532 in what she either promises or threats. Old Age excepted, which is an undoubted sign of the approach of Death, in all other acci∣dents, I see few signs of the future, wherein we may ground our Divination. I only judge of my self by my real sense, and not by discourse: To what end, since I am re∣solv'd to bring nothing to it but expectation and patience. Will you know how much I get by this? Observe those that do other∣wise, and who rely upon so many diverse

perswasions and counsels; how oft and how much they labour under imagination, with∣out any bodily pain at all. I have many times pleas'd my self, being well and in safety, and deliver'd from these dangerous ac∣cidents, to communicate them to the Physici∣ans, as but then beginning to discover them∣selves in me; where I under-went the terri∣ble sentences of their dreadful conclusions, being very well at ease, and was so much the more obliged to the favour of Almighty God, and better satisfied of the vanity of this Art. There is nothing that ought so much to be re∣commended to Youth, as Activity and Vigi∣lance. Our Life is nothing but motion: I move with great difficulty, and am slow in every thing, whether in Rising, going to Bed, or Eating. Seven of the Clock in the Morn∣ing is early for me; and where I govern, I never Dine before Eleven, nor Sup till after Six. I have formerly attributed the cause of the Feavers, and other Diseases I have faln in∣to, to the heaviness that long sleeping had brought upon me, and have ever repented my sleeping again in the morning. Plato is more angry at the excess of sleeping, than that of drinking: I love to lye hard, and alone, even without my Wife, as Kings and Princes do, but well cover'd with Cloathes: They never warm my Bed, but since my being grown Old, they give me for need, warm Cloths to lay to my Feet and Stomach. They find fault with the great Scipio, that he

was a great Sleeper; not, in my opinion, for any other reason, if not that men were dis∣pleas'd, that he alone should have nothing in him to be found fault withal. If I have any thing curious in my way of Living, 'tis rather in my Lying than any thing else; but generally, I give way and accommodate my self as much as any one to necessity. Sleep∣ing has taken up a great part of my Life, and I yet continue at the Age I now am, to sleep eight or nine hours together; I wean my self to my advantage, from this propensi∣on to sloth, and am evidently the better for so doing. I find the change a little hard in∣deed, but in three days 'tis over, and see but few that live with less Sleep, when need re∣quires▪ and that more constantly exercise themselves, nor to whom long Journeys are less troublesome. My Body is capable of a firm, but not of a violent or sudden Agitati∣on. I evade of late all violent exercises, and such as make me sweat, wherein my Limbs grow weary before they are hot. I can stand a whole day together, and am ne∣ver weary of walking: But from my Youth, I never lov'd to Ride upon Pavements. On foot, I go up to the Breech in dirt, and little Fellows as I am, are subject in the Streets to be Elbow'd and Justled, for want of Presence and Stature, and I have ever lov'd to repose my self, whether sitting or lying, with my Heels as high, or higher than my Seat. There is no profession is more pleasant

than the military, a profession both noble in its execution, (for Valour, is the strongest, proudest, and most generous, of all Ver∣tues) and noble in its cause. There is no Utility either more Universal, or more Just, than the protection of the Peace and gran∣deur of a mans Country. The company of so many Noble, Young, and Active men de∣lights you, the ordinary sight of so many Tragick Spectacles; the liberty of this Conversation without Art, with a Mas∣culine and unceremonious way of living, pleases you; the variety of a Thousand several Actions, the encouraging Har∣mony of Martial Musick, that ravishes and inflames both your Ears and Souls, the Honour of this exercise, nay, even the sufferings and difficulties of War, which Pla∣to so little esteems, that he makes Women and Children share in it in his Republick, are delightful to you. You put your selves voluntarily upon particular Exploits and ha∣zards, according as you judge of their lustre and importance, and see when even life it self is excusably employed.

* 1.533Pulchrumque mori succurrit in armis.

* 1.534And we conceive it brave to die in Arms.

To fear common dangers that concern so great a multitude of men, not to dare to do what so many sorts of Souls, and a whole

people do, is for a heart that is low, and mean beyond all measure. Company en∣courages so much as Children. If others ex∣cell you in Knowledge, in Gracefulness, in Strength, or Fortune, you have third causes to blame for that, but to give place to them in stability of mind you can blame no one for that but your self. Death is more Abject, more Languishing, and Painful in Bed than in Battel; and Fevers and Catharrs, as Painful and Mortal as a Musquet-shott: And whoever has fortified himself valiantly to bear the accidents of common life, would not need to raise his courage to be a Souldier. Vivere, mi Lucilli, militare est. To live,* 1.535 my Lucillus, is to make War. I do not remember that I ever had the Itch, and yet scratching is one of natures sweetest gratifications, and nearest at hand, but the smart follows too near. I use it most in my Ears, which are often apt to Itch. I came into the World with all my Senses intire, even to perfection. My Stomach is commodiously good, as also is my Head and my Breath; and for the most part, uphold themselves so in the height of Fevers. I have past the age to which some Nations, not without reason, have prescrib'd so just a term of Life, that they would not suffer men to exceed it; and yet I have some intermissions, though short and inconstant, so clean and sound, as are little inferiour to the Health and Indolency of my Youth. I do not speak of Vigour and Spriteliness, 'tis

not reason that it should follow me beyond its limits.

* 1.536Non hoc amplius est liminis, aut aquae. —Coelestis patiens latus.

My sides no longer can sustain The hardships of the Wind and Rain.

My Face and Eyes presently discover me. All my alterations begin there, and appear worse than they really are. My Friends oft pity me, before I feel the cause in my self: My Looking-glass does not fright me, for even in my Youth, it has befaln me more than once to have a scurvy complexion, and of ill Prognostick, without any great conse∣quence; insomuch that the Physicians, not find∣ing any cause within, answerable to that out∣ward alteration attributed it to the mind, and some secret passion that tormented me with∣in; but they were deceiv'd. If my Body would govern it self as well according to my Rule as my Mind does, we should move a little more at our ease. My mind was then not only free from Trouble, but moreover full of Joy and Satisfaction; as it commonly is, half by Complexion, and half by its own Design.

* 1.537Nec vitiant artus aegrae contagia mentis.

—I never yet could find, That e're my Body suffer'd by my mind.

I am of the opinion, that this tempera∣ture of my Soul, has oft rais'd my Body from its lapses: It is oft deprest; and if the o∣ther be not brisk and gay, 'tis at least quiet and at rest. I had a Quartan Ague four or five months, that had made me look misera∣bly ill; my mind was always, if not calm, yet pleasant; if the pain be without me, the weakness and langour do not much afflict me: I see several corporal faintings, that beget a horrour in me but to name, which yet I should less fear than a thou∣sand passions and agitations of mind that I see in use. I resolve no more to run, 'tis e∣nough that I crawl along; and no more com∣plain of the natural decadency that I feel in my self,

Quis tumidum guttur miratur in Alpibus?* 1.538

than I regret that my duration shall not be as long and entire as that of an Oak. I have no reason to complain of my imagina∣tion, for I have had few thoughts in my Life which have so much as broke my sleep, if not those of desire, which have awak'd without afflicting me; I dream but seldom, and then of Chimera's, and fantastick things, common∣ly produc'd from pleasant thoughts, and ra∣ther ridiculous than sad; and believe it to be true, that dreams are the true Interpreters of our inclinations; but there is art requir'd to sort and understand them.

Res quae in vita usurpant homines cogitant, curant, vident, Quaeque agunt vigilantes, agitantque, ea sicut * 1.539in fomno accidunt, minus nimirum est.

'Tis no wonder if what men practice, think, care for, see, and do when waking, should also run in their Heads, and disturb them when they are a∣sleep.

Plato moreover says, that 'tis the office of Prudence to draw instructions of Divination of future things from Dreams. I see no∣thing in it, if not the wonderful experience that Socrates, Zenephon, and Aristotle, all men of irreproachable authority relate. Histo∣rians say,* 1.540 that the Atlantes never Dream, who also never eat any thing that dyed of it self: Which I add, forasmuch as it is perad∣venture the reason why they never Dream, for Pythagoras order'd a certain preparation of Diet, to beget proper Dreams; mine are always very gentle, without any agitation of Body or expression of voice. I have seen several of my time wonderfully distur'd; Theon the Philosopher walk'd in his sleep: as also did Pericles his Servant, and that up∣on the Tiles, and tops of the House. I hard∣ly ever choose my Dish at Table, but fall to of the next at hand, and unwillingly change my Dish. A confusion of Meats, and a clut∣ter of Dishes displeases me as much as any

thing whatever. I am easily satisfied with few Dishes, and am an enemy to the opini∣on of Favorinus, that in a Feast they must snatch from you the meat you like, and set another Plate of another sort before you, and that it's a pitiful Supper, if you do not sate your Guests with the Rumps of several Fowls, and that the Beccafico only deserves to be all eaten. I usually eat salt meats, and yet I love Bread that has no salt in it; And my Baker never sends up other to my Table, contrary to the Custom of the Countrey▪ In my infancy, what they had most to cor∣rect in me, was the refusal of things that Children commonly best love; as Sugar, Sweet-meats, and March-panes. My Go∣vernour contended with this aversion to de∣licate meats as a kind nicety. And indeed 'tis nothing else but a difficulty of taste in any thing it applys it self unto. Whoever shall cure a Child of an obstinate aversion to Brown-bread, Bacon, or Garlick, will cure him of all kind of Delicacy. There are some who pretend to Temperance and Patience, by wishing for Powder'd Beef and Hams amongst Pheasant and Partridge; they have a good time on't; 'tis the Delicacy of Deli∣cacies, 'tis the taste of an effeminate Fortune, that disrelishes ordinary and accustom'd things, Per quae luxuria divitiarum taedio lu∣dit.* 1.541 To cease to make good cheer with what another does, and to be curious in what a man eats, is the essence of this vice.

Si Medita caenare times plus omne patella.

* 1.542If an Herb ••oop in a small dish thou fear.

There is indeed this difference, that 'tis bet∣ter to oblige a mans appetite to things that are most easie to be had, but 'tis always Vice to oblige a mans self. I formerly said a kins∣man of mine was nice, who, by being in our Galleys, had unlearn'd the use of Beds, and ••o put off his Cloaths. If I had any Sons, I should willingly wish them my fortune. The good Father that God gave me, (who has nothing of me but the acknowledgment of his bounty, but truly 'tis a very hearty one) sent me from my Cradle to be brought up in a Village of his, and there continued me all the while I was at Nurse, and yet lon∣ger, bringing me up to the meanest, and most common way of living: Magna pars libertatis est bene moratus venter.* 1.543 A well go∣vern'd Belly is a great part of Liberty. Never take upon you your selves, and much less give up to your Wives,* 1.544 the care of their Edu∣cation, leave the forming them to fortune, un∣der popular, and natural Laws; leave it to Custom to train them up to Frugality, that they may rather descend from hardships, than mount up to them. This humour of his yet aim'd at another end, that is, to make me familiar with those people, and that con∣dition of men which most need our assistance;

believing that I should be more oblig'd rather to regard them who extended their Arms to me, than those who turn'd their backs up∣on me. And for this Reason also it was, that he provided me Godfathers of the meanest Fortune, to oblige, and bind me to them. Neither has his design succeeded altogether ill; for, whether it be upon the account of glory, because there is no more honour in such a condescension, or out of a natural com∣passion, that has a very great power over me, I have a very kind inclination towards the meaner sort of people. The Faction which I condemn in our Civil Wars, I shall more sharply condemn when I see them flou∣rish. It will half reconcile me to them, when I shall see them miserable, and sup∣prest. How much do I admire the generous humour of Chelonis, Daughter,* 1.545 and Wife to the Kings of Sparta! whilst her Husband Cleombrotus, in the commotion of her City, had the advantage over Leonidas, her Father, she, like a good Daughter, stuck close to her Father in all his misery and exile, in opposi∣tion to the Conquerour. But so soon as the chance of War turn'd, she chang'd her Will with the change of Fortune, and generally turn'd to her Husbands side, whom she ac∣companied throughout, where his ruin car∣ried him: Having, as it appears, no other choice, than to cleave to that side that stood most in need of her, and where she could best manifest her Piety and Compassion. I am

naturally more apt to follow the example of Flaminius, who still more readily gave his assistance to those that had most need of him, than to those who had power to do him good; than I do to that of Pyrrhus, who was of an humour to truckle under the great, and to domineer over the meanest sort of people. Long sittings at meat both trouble me, and do me harm; for, be it for want of better countenance, or that I have accustomed my self to it from a Child, I eat all the while I sit. Therefore it is, that at my own House, though the meals there are of the shortest, I usually sit down a little while after the rest, after the manner of Augustus; but I do not imitate him in rising also before the rest of the Company: On the contrary, I love to sit still a long time after, and to hear them talk, provided I am none of the talkers, for I tire, and hurt my self with speaking upon a full Stomach, as much as I find it pleasant and very wholsome to argue, and to strain my voice before Dinner. The antient Greeks and Romans had more reason than we,* 1.546 in set∣ting apart for Eating, which is a principal action of Life, if not diverted by other extraordinary business, many hours, and the greatest part of the night eating and drinking more deliberately than we do, who perform all our Actions in Post haste; and in extending this natural pleasure to more leisure and better use, intermixing with their meals several pleasant and profitable

offices of conversation. They whose con∣cern it is have a care of me, may very ea∣sily hinder me from eating any thing they think will do me harm; for in such things I never covet nor miss any thing I do not see: But withal, if it once comes in my sight, 'tis in vain to perswade me to forbear, so that when I design to Fast, I must be parted from those that eat Suppers, and must have only so much given me, as is required for a regular Collation; for if I sit down to Ta∣ble, I forget my resolution. When I order my Cook to alter the manner of dressing any Dish of Meat, all my Family know what it means, that my Stomach is out of order, and that I shall scarce touch it: I love to have all meats that will indure it very little boyl'd or roasted, and love them mightily mortified, and even to stinking in many. Nothing but hardness generally offends me, (of any other quality) I am as patient and indifferent as any man I have known: So that, contrary to the common humour, even in Fish, it oft happens, that I find them both too fresh and too firm: Not for want of Teeth, which I ever had good, even to Excellence, and that Age does but now be∣gin to threaten at this time of my Life. I have ever been us'd every Morning to rub them with a Napkin, and before and after Dinner. God is favourable to those whom he makes to dye by degrees; 'tis the only bene∣fit of old Age; the last Death will be so much

the less painful; it will kill but a quarter of a man; or but half a one at most. I have one Tooth lately fall'n out without drawing, and without pain: it was the natural term of its duration. Both that part of my Being, and se∣veral others, are already dead, and others half dead, of those that were most active, and in highest esteem during my vigorous years; so that I melt and steal away from my self. What a folly would it be in my understanding to apprehend the height of this fall, already so much advanc'd, as if it were from the utmost Precipice? I hope I shall not. I in truth re∣ceive a principal Consolation in the meditati∣ons of my Death, that it will be just and na∣tural, and that henceforward I cannot herein either require or hope from Destiny any other but unlawfull Favour. Men make themselves believe that they have formerly had, as greater Statures, so longer Lives. But they deceive themselves; and Solon, who was of those el∣der times, does nevertheless limit the Durati∣on of Life to threescore and ten years. I, who have so much, and so universally ador'd this 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, a mean is best of ancient times; and shall I, who have concluded the most moderate measure the most perfect, pre∣tend to an immeasurable and prodigious old Age? Whatever happens contrary to the Course of Nature, may be troublesome, but what comes according to her, should always be acceptable and pleasant.* 1.547 Omnia quae secun∣dum Naturam fiunt sunt habenda in bonis. All

things that are done according to Nature, are to be accounted good. And so Plato likewise says, that the Death which is occasion'd by Wounds and Diseases is violent; but that which sur∣prises us, old Age conducting us to it, is of all others the most easie, and in some sort delicious. Vitam adolescentibus vis aufert,* 1.548 senibus maturitas. Young men are taken away by force, old men by Maturity. Death mixes and confounds it self throughout with Life, decay anticipates its Hour and Shoulders, even into the course of our growing up. I have Pictures of my self taken at five and twenty, and five and thirty years of Age, I compare them with that lately drawn, how often is it no more me, how much more is my present Image unlike the former, than to that I shall go out of the World withall? It is too much to abuse Na∣ture, to make her trot so far that she must be forc'd to leave us, and abandon our Conduct, our Eyes, Teeth, Legs, and all the rest, to the mercy of a foreign and begg'd assistance; and to resign us into the hands of Art, being wea∣ry of following us her self. I am not very fond either of Sallets or Fruits, except Melons. My Father hated all sorts of Sawces, and I love them all. Eating too much hurts me, but for the quality of what I eat, I do not yet certain∣ly know that any sort of Meat disagrees with my Stomach; neither have I observed that ei∣ther Full-moon or Decrease, Spring or Autum, are hurtfull to me. We have in us motions that are inconstant, and for which no reason

can be given. For Example, I found Radishes first grateful to my Stomach, since that nause∣ous, and now at present grateful again. In se∣veral other things likewise I find my Stomach and Appetite to vary after the same manner. I have chang'd and chang'd again, from White to Claret, from Claret to White. I am a great lover of Fish, and consequently make my Fasts, Feasts, and my Feasts, Fasts; and believe what some People say, that it is more easie of digestion than Flesh. As I make a Conscience of eating Flesh upon Fish-days, so does my Taste make a Conscience of mixing Fish and Flesh, the difference betwixt them seems to me to be too great so to do. From my Youth I have us'd sometimes to be out of the way at Supper, either to sharpen my Appetite against the next Morning, (for as Epicurus fasted and made lean Meals to accustom his Pleasure to make shift without abundance; I on the contrary do it to prepare my Pleasure to make better and more chearful use of Abun∣dance) or else I fasted to preserve my Vigour for the service of some Action of Body or Mind: for both the one and the other of those are cruelly dull'd in me by Repletion (and above all things, I hate that foolish coupling of so healthful and spritely a Goddess with that little belching God, bloated with the fume of his Liquor) or to cure my sick Stomach, and for want of fit Company. For I say as the same Epicurus did, that a man is not so much to regard what he eats, as with whom; And

commend Chilo, that he would not engage himself to be at Perianders Feast, till he first was inform'd who were to be the other Guests. No Dish is so acceptable to me, nor no Sawce so alluring, as that which is extracted from Society. I think it to be more wholesome to eat more liesurely and less, and to eat ofter: but I will have the value of Appe∣tite and Hunger enhanc'd. I should take no pleasure to be fed with three or four pittiful and stinted Repasts a day, after a Physical man∣ner. Who will assure me, that if I have a good Appetite in the morning, I shall have the same at Supper: But especially, let us old Fellows take the first opportune time of eat∣ing, and leave to Almanack-makers the hopes and Prognosticks. The utmost fruit of my health is pleasure; let us take hold of the present and known. I avoid constancy in these Laws of Fasting. Who will that one Form shall serve him, let him evade the continuing of it; We harden our selves in it, our Forces are there stupified and laid asleep: six months after you shall find your Stomach so inured unto it, that all you have got is only the loss of your liberty of doing otherwise, but to your pre∣judice. I never keep my Legs and Thighs warmer in Winter than in Summer, one single pair of Silk-stockings is all: I have suffer'd my self for the relief of my Rheums to keep my Head warmer; and my Belly upon the ac∣count of my Cholick: my Diseases in a few dayes habituated themselves, and disdain'd my

ordinary Provisions. I was presently got from a single Cap to a Napkin, and from a Napkin to a quilted Cap. The belly-pieces of my Dou∣blet serve only for decency, they signifie no∣thing, if I do not add a Hares-skin or a Sto∣macher, and wear a Callot upon my Head. Fol∣low this gradation, and you will go a very fine way to work. I am resolv'd to proceed no further, and would leave off those too, if I durst. If you fall into any new inconveni∣ence all this is labour lost; you are accu∣stom'd to it; seek out some other way: thus do such ruine and destroy themselves, who sub∣mit to be pester'd with these enforc'd and su∣perstitious Rules; they must add something more, and something more after that, there is no end on't. For what concerns our Affairs and Pleasures, it is much more commodious; as the Ancients did, to lose a man's Dinner, and deferr making good cheer, till the hour of retirement and repose, without breaking a day; and so was I formerly us'd to do. For health, I since by experience find on the con∣trary, that it is better to dine, and that the di∣gestion is better made waking. I am not ve∣ry apt to be thirsty, either well or sick, my Mouth is indeed apt to be dry, but without thirst; and commonly I never drink but with thirst that is created by eating, and then I drink as hard as any. I drink pretty well for a man of my pitch: In Summer, and at a hun∣gry meal, I do not only exceed the limits of Augustus, that drank but thrice precisely; but

not to offend Democrates his Rule, who for∣bad that men should stop at four times, as an unlucky number; I proceed for need to the fifth glass, about three half pints. For the little glasses are my favourites; and I take a delight to drink them off, which other People avoid as an indecent thing. I mix my Wine some∣times with half, sometimes the third part Wa∣ter. And when I am at home, by an ancient cu∣stom that my Fathers Physician prescib'd both to him and himself, they mix that which is de∣sign'd for me in the Buttery three or four hours before 'tis brought in. 'Tis said, that Cranaus King of Athens was the inventer of this Custom of dashing Wine with Water; whether profitable or no, I have heard dispu∣ted. I think it more decent and wholsom for Children to drink no Wine till after sixteen or eighteen years of age. The most usual and common method of living is the most becom∣ming: all particularity in my opinion is to be avoided, and I should as much hate a Ger∣man that mix'd Water with his Wine, as I should do a Frenchman that drank it pure. Publick Vsance gives the Law in those things. I fear a Fog, and fly from Smoke, as from the Plague, (the first repairs I fell upon in my own house were the Chimnies and Houses of Office, the common and insupportable nui∣sances of all old Buildings) and amongst the difficulties of War, reckon the choaking dust they make us ride in a whole day together. I have a free and easie respiration, and my Colds

for the most part go off without offence to the Lungs, and without a Cough. The heat of Summer is more an enemy to me than the cold of Winter; for, besides the incommodity of Heat, less remediable than Cold, and besides the force of the Sun-beams that strike upon the Head, all glittering light offends my eyes, so that I could not now sit at dinner over against a flaming Fire. To dull the whiteness of Pa∣per, in those times when I was more wonted to read, I laid a piece of glass upon my Book, and found my Eyes much reliev'd by it. I am to this hour ignorant of the use of Spectacles, and can see as far as ever I did, or any other. 'Tis true, that in the Evening I begin to find a little trouble and weakness in my Sight, if I read; an exercise that I have always found troublesome, especially by Night. Here is one step back, and a very sensible one; I shall re∣tire another, from the second to the third, and so to the fourth, so gently, that I shall be stark blind before I shall be sensible of the age and decay of my sight: so artificially do the fatal Sisters untwist our Lives. And yet I doubt that my Hearing begins to grow thick, and you shall see I shall have half lost it, when I shall still lay the fault on the Voices of those that speak to me. A man must screw up his Soul to a high pitch, to make it sensible how it ebbs away. My walking is quick and firm, and I know not which of the two, my Mind, or my Body, I have most to do to keep in the same state. That Preacher is very much my

Friend, that can oblige my Attention a whole Sermon through. In places of Ceremony, where every ones Countenance is so starch'd, where I have seen the Ladies keep even their Eyes so fixt; I could never order it so, that some part or other of me did not lash out; so that though I was set, I was never setled: As the Philosopher Chrysippus his Chamber-Maid said of her Master,* 1.549 that he was only drunk in his Legs, for it was his Custom to be always kick∣ing his Legs about in what place soever he sat; and she said it at a time when the Wine having made all his Companions drunk, he found no alteration in himself at all. The same may also be said of me from my Infancy, that I have either folly or quicksilver in my feet, so much stirring and unsettledness there is in them wherever they are plac'd. 'Tis indecent, besides the hurt it does to ones Health, and even to the pleasure of eating, to eat so greedily as I do; I oft bite my Tongue, and sometimes my Fingers for haste,* 1.550 Diogenes meeting a Boy eat∣ing after that manner, gave his Tutor a box o'th Ear. There were men at Rome that taught People to chew,* 1.551 as well as to walk with a good Grace. I lose the leisure of speaking, that gives the best relish to Tables, provided the Discourse be suitable that is pleasant and short. There is Jealousie and Envy amongst our Pleasures, they cross and hinder one another. Alcibiades, a man very well read in making good chear,* 1.552 banish'd even Musick from Tables, that they might not disturb the entertainment of Dis∣course,

by the Reason he had from Plato, that it is the Custom of popular men to call Fid∣lers and Singing-men to Feasts, for want of good Discourse; and pleasant talk, with which men of Understanding know how to entertain one another. Varro requires all this in great En∣tertainments, Persons of graceful Presence, and agreeable Conversation, that are neither silent nor bablers; Neatness and Delicacy both of Meat and Place, and fair Weather. A good Treat is neither slightly artificial, nor a little voluptuous; neither the greatest Captains, nor the greatest Philosophers have disdain'd either the Use or Science of eating well, My Imagi∣nation has deliver'd three of them to the Cu∣stody of my Memory, which Fortune rendred sovereignly sweet to me upon several occasi∣ons in my most flourishing Age. My present state excludes me. For every one, according to the good temper of Body and Mind where∣in he then finds himself, does from thence make out to his own use a particular grace and li∣king; but I, who but crawl upon the Earth, hate this inhumane Wisdom, that will have us de∣spise and hate all culture of the Body. I look upon it as an equal Injustice to loath natural Pleasures, as to be too much in love with them. Xerxes was a Fop, who, environ'd with all hu∣mane Delights, propos'd a reward to him that could find him out others; but he is not much less so, who cuts off any of those Pleasures that Nature has provided for him. A man should neither pursue nor flie, but receive them. I re∣ceive

them I confess a little too affectionately and kindly, and easily suffer my self to follow my natural Propension. We have nothing to do to exaggerate their inanity, they themselves will make us sufficiently sensible of it. Thanks be to our sick Minds that abate our Joys, and put them out of taste with them, as with them∣selves. They entertain both themselves and all they receive, one while better, and another worse, according to their insatiable, vagabond, and versatile Essence.

Sincerum est nisi vas,* 1.553 quodcunque infundis aces∣cit.

Unless the Vessel you would use be sweet 'Twill sour whate're you shall put into it.

I, who boast that I so curiously and particu∣larly imbrace the conveniences of Life, do find, when I most nearly consider them, but very little more than Wind. But what? We are all Wind throughout, and moreover the Wind it self loves to bluster and shift from corner to corner more discreetly than we, and contents it self with its proper Offices, without desiring stability and solidity, Qualities that nothing belong to it. The pure Pleasures, as well as the pure Displeasures of the Imaginati∣on, say some, are the greatest, as was express'd by the balance of Critolaus. 'Tis no wonder. It makes them to its own liking, and cuts them out of the whole Cloth. Of which I every day see notable Examples, and peradventure

to be desir'd. But I, who am of a mixt and heavy Condition, cannot snap so soon at this one simple Object, but that I negligently suf∣fer my self to be carried away with the pre∣sent Pleasures of the general humane Law. In∣tellectually sensible, and sensibly intellectual. The Cyrenick Philosophers will have it, that as corporal Pains, so corporal Pleasures are more powerful, both as double, and as more just. There are some, as Aristotle says, who out of a savage kind of Stupidity, pretend to disgust them: and I know others, who out of Ambiti∣on do the same. Why do they not moreover forswear breathing? Why do they not live of their own, and refuse Light because it shines gratis, and costs them neither pains nor inven∣tion? Let Mars, Pallas, or Mercury, afford them their light by which to see, instead of Venus, Ceres, and Bacchus. Will they not seek the Quadrature of the Circle, even when moun∣ted upon their Wives? I hate, that we should be injoyn'd to have our minds in the Clouds, when our bodies are at Table; I will have the mind there nail'd, not that it should wallow there, but I am willing it should apply it self to that place, to sit, but not to lye down there. Aristippus maintain'd nothing but the Body, as if we had no Soul; Zeno stickled only for the Soul, as if we had no Body. Both of them faultily. Pythagoras, say they, follow'd a Philosophy that was all Contemplation; Socra∣tes, one that was all Manners and Action. Pla∣to found out a mean betwixt both; but they

only say so for Discourse sake, for the true mean is found in Socrates; and Plato is more Socratick than Pythagorick, and it becomes him better. When I dance, I dance, when I sleep, I sleep. Nay, and when I walk alone in a beautifull Orchard, if my Thoughts are some part of the time taken up with strange Oc∣currences, I some part of the time call them back again to my walk, to the Orchard, to the sweetness of the Solitude, and to my self. Nature has with a Motherly tenderness ob∣serv'd this, that the actions she has injoyn'd us for our necessity, should be also pleasant to us, and invites us to them, not only by Reason, but also by Appetite: and 'tis injustice to infringe her Laws. When I see both Caesar and Alexander in the thickest of their great∣est business, so fully injoy humane and cor∣poral Pleasures, I do not say that they slacken'd their Souls, but wound them up higher by Vigour of Courage, subjecting these violent Imployments and laborious Thoughts to the ordinary usance of Life. Wise, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 they be∣liev'd, that the last was their ordinary Imploy∣ment, the first, their extraordinary Vocation. We are great fools. He has past over his Life in ease, say we: I have done nothing yet that is new. What? have you not liv'd till now? 'Tis not only the fundamental, but the most illustrious of all your Occupations. Had I been put to the management of great Affairs; I should have made it seen what I could do. Have you known how to meditate, and man∣nage

your Life; you have perform'd the grea∣test work of all. For a man to shew, and set out himself, Nature has no need of Fortune, she equally shews her self in all degrees, and behind a Curtain, as well as without one. Have you known how to compose your Manners? you have done a great deal more than he who has compos'd Books. Have you known how to take repose? you have done more than he who has taken Cities and Empires. The glo∣rious Master-piece of man is, to know how to live to purpose; all other things, to reign, to lay up treasure, and to build, are at the most but little Appendixes, and little Props. I take a delight to see a General of an Army at the foot of a Breach he intends presently to As∣sault, give himself up intire and free at din∣ner, to talk and be merry with his Friends. And Brutus, when Heaven and Earth were conspir'd against him and the Roman Liberty, to steal some hour of the Night from his Rounds, to read and abridge Polybius in all security 〈◊〉〈◊〉 is for little Souls, that truckle un∣der the weight of Affairs, not to know how clearly to disingage themselves, and not to know how to lay them aside, and take them up again.

* 1.554O fortes, pejoraque passi Mecum saepe viri, nunc vino pellite curas, Cras ingens interabimus aequor.

* 1.555Brave Spirits, who with me have suffer'd sorrow, Drink cares away, we'll set up sails to morrow.

Whether it be in jest or earnest, that the Theo∣logical and Sorbonical Wine, and their Feasts are turn'd into a Proverb; I find it Reason, they should dine so much more commodi∣ously and pleasantly, as they have profitably and seriously imploy'd the morning in the ex∣ercise of their Schools. The Conscience of ha∣ving well spent the other hours, is the just and savory sawce of Tables. The Sages liv'd after that manner, and that inimitable emulation to Virtue, which astonishes us both in the one and the other Cato; so did that humour of theirs, severe even to importunity, gently sub∣mit it self, and yield to the Laws of the hu∣mane Condition, both of Venus and Bacchus; according to the Precepts of their Sect, that require a perfect wise man, should be as expert and intelligent in the use of Pleasures, as in all other duties of Life.* 1.556 Cui cor sapiat ei & sa∣piat palatus. He that has a learned Soul, has a learned Palate too. Yielding and facility, do, methinks, wonderfully honour, and best be∣come a strong and generous Soul. Epaminon∣das did not think, that to daunce, sing, play, and be intent upon them, with the young men of his City, were things that did any way de∣rogate from the honour of his glorious Victo∣ries, and the perfect reformation of Manners that was in him. And amongst so many admi∣rable actions of Scipio, the Grand-Father, a Per∣son worthy the Opinion of a heavenly Extra∣ction; there is nothing that gives him a grea∣ter Grace than to see him carelesly and child∣ishly

trifling, in gathering and chusing Shells, and playing at Coits upon the Sea-shore with his friend Laelius: and, if it was foul weather, amusing and pleasing himself in representing in Comedies, by writing the meanest and most popular actions of men: And having his head full of that wonderful enterprise of Hannibal and Affrik, visiting the Schools, and being continually present at the Philosophical Le∣ctures, improving himself even to the envy of his Enemies at Rome. Nor is there any thing more remarkable in Socrates, than that, old as he was, he found time to make himself be in∣structed in dancing and playing upon Instru∣ments, and thought it time well spent; who nevertheless has been seen in an Exstacy stand∣ing upon his feet a whole day and a night to∣gether in the presence of all the Grecian Army, surpriz'd and ravish'd with some profound Thought. He was the first, who amongst so many valiant men of the Army, ran to the re∣lief of Alcibiades, oppress'd with the Enemy, that shielded him with his own Body, and dis∣engag'd him from the Crowd, by absolute force of Arms. It was he who in the Delian Battel reliev'd and saved Xenophon, when dis∣mounted from his Horse; and who, amongst all the People of Athens, inrag'd as he, at so unworthy a Spectacle, first presented himself to rescue Theramenes, whom the thirty Ty∣rants were haling to Execution by their Guards, and desisted not from his bold Enterprise, but at the remonstrance of Theramenes himself,

though he was only follow'd by two more in all. He has been seen, when courted by a Beau∣ty with which he was in love, yet maintain a severe abstinence in time of need. He has been seen continually to go to the War, and with his bare feet to trample upon the Ice; to wear the same Robe Winter and Summer, to surpass all his Companions in Patience of suffering, and to eat no more at a Feast, than at his own private Dinner. He was seen seven and twen∣ty years together to endure Hunger, Poverty, the Indocility of his Children, and the Talons of his Wife, with the same Countenance; and in the end Calumny, Tyranny, Imprisonment, Fetters, and Poyson. But was that man oblig'd to drink to him by any Rule of Civility? He was also the man of the Army to whom the advantage remain'd. And he never refus'd to play at Cob-nut, nor to ride the Hoby-horse with the Boys, and it became him well; for all Actions, says Philosophy, equally become, and equally honour a wise man. We have enough wherewithall to do it, and we ought never to be weary of representing the Image of this great man in all the patterns and forms of Per∣fection. There are very few Examples of Life full and pure, and we wrong our Instruction every day, to propose to our selves those that are weak and imperfect, scarce good for any one service, that pull us back, and that are rather Corrupters than Correctors of Manners. The People deceive themselves; a man goes much

more easily indeed by the ends, where the ex∣tremity serve for a bound, a stop, and guide, than by the middle way, which is large and open, and according to Art, than according to Nature; but withall, much less nobly and commendably. The grandure of Soul consists not so much in mounting and in proceeding forward, as in knowing how to govern and circumscribe it self. It takes every thing for great, that is enough; and demonstrates it self better in moderate, than eminent things. There is nothing so handsome and lawfull, as well and duly to play the man; nor Science so hard as well to know how to live this Life, and of all the Infirmities we have, 'tis the most savage to despise our Being. Whoever has a mind to send his Soul abroad, when the Body is ill at ease, to preserve it from the Contagi∣on, let him do it if he can: but, in all other things, let him on the contrary, favour and as∣sist it, and not refuse to participate of its natu∣ral Pleasures and Delights with a Conjugal Complacency: bringing to it withall, if it be a wiser Soul, Moderation, lest by Indiscretion they should confound them with Displeasures. Intemperance is the best of Pleasure, and Tem∣perance is not its Scourge, but rather its sea∣soning. Eudoxus, who therein establish'd the sovereign good, and his Companions, who set so high a value upon it, tasted it with a more charming sweetness by the means of Tempe∣rance, which in them was most singular and

exemplary. I enjoyn my Soul to look upon Pain and Pleasure with an Eye equally regu∣lar;* 1.557 Eadem enim Vitio est effusto animi in laeti∣tia, quo in dolore contractio: For 'tis by the same Vice that we dilate our selves in Mirth, and contract them in Sorrow: and equally firm; but the one gayly, and the other severely, and, ac∣cording to what it is able, to be as carefull to extinguish the one as to extend the other. The judging rightly of Goods, brings along with it the judging soundly of Evils. Both Pain has something not to be avoided in its tender beginnings, and Pleasure has something that may be avoided in its excessive end. Plato couples them together, and will that it should be equally the Office of Fortitude to fight against Pain, and against the immoderate and charming blandishments of Pleasure. They are two Fountains, from which whoever draws, when and as much as he needs, whether City, Man, or Beast, is very happy. The first is to be taken physically, and upon necessity more scarcely; the other for thirst, but not to drunk∣enness. Pain, Pleasure, Love and Hatred are the first things that a Child is sensible of; if when his Reason comes to him, he apply himself to it, that is Virtue. I have a peculiar method of my own, I squander away my time when it is ill and uneasie; but when 'tis good I will not squander it away. I run it over again, and stick to't; a man must run over the ill, and insist upon the good. This ordi∣nary

Phrase of past-time, and passing away the time, represents the usance of those wise sort of People, who think they can∣not have a better account of their Lives, than to let them run out and slide away, to pass them over, and to baulk them, and, as much as they can, to take no notice of them, and to shun them, as a thing of troublesome and contemptible Quality: but I know it to be another kind of thing, and find it both valuable and commodi∣ous, even in its latest decay, wherein I now injoy it: and Nature has deliver'd it into our hands in such and so favourable Circumstances, that we commonly complain of our selves if it be troublesome to us, or slide unprofitably away.* 1.558 Stulti Vita ingrata est, trepida est, tota in futurum fertur. The Life of a Fool is uneasie, timorous, and whol∣ly bent upon the future. Nevertheless, I com∣pose my self to lose mine without regret, but withall, as a thing that is loseable by its Condition, not that it troubles or importunes me. Neither does it properly well become any, not to be displeas'd when they dye, ex∣cepting such as are pleas'd to live. There is good husbandry in enjoying it. I enjoy it double to what others do; for the measure in Fruition depends more or less upon our application to it. Now especially that I per∣ceive mine to be so short in time, I will ex∣tend it in weight; I will stop the suddenness

of its flight, by the suddenness of my sei∣sing upon it: and by the vigour of using it, recompence the speed of its running away. By how much the possession of living is more short, I must make it so much deeper and more full. Others are sensible of Contentment, and of Prosperity, I feel it too, as well as they, but not only as it slides and passes by; and also a man ought to study, taste, and ru∣minate upon it, to render condign thanks to him that grants it to us. They enjoy the other Pleasures as they do that of sleep, with∣out knowing it; to the end, that even sleep it self should not so stupidly escape from me, I have formerly caus'd my self to be disturb'd in my sleep, to the end that I might the better and more sensibly relish and taste it. I consult with my self of a contentment; I do not skin, but sound it, and bend my Reason, now grown perverse and ill humour'd, to en∣tertain it. Do I find my self in any calm com∣posedness? is there any Pleasure that tickles me? I do not suffer it to dally with my Sen∣ses only, I associate my Soul to it too: not there to engage it self, but therein to take delight; not there to lose it self, but to be present there; and employ it on its part, to view it self in this prosperous Estate, to weigh, esteem, and amplifie the good hap. It reckons how much it stands indebted to Almighty God that it is in repose of Conscience, and other intestine Passions, to have the Body

in a natural disposedness, orderly, and com∣petently enjoying the soft and flattering fun∣ctions, by which he of his bounty is pleas'd to recompence the sufferings wherewith his Justice at his good Pleasure does scourge and chastise us. How great a benefit is it to man to have his Soul so seated, that which way soever she turns her Eye the Heaven is calm and serene about her? No Desire, no Fear or Doubt, that troubles the Air, nor any Difficulty past, present, or to come, that his Imagination may not pass over without Offence. This Consideration takes great lu∣stre from the comparison of different Condi∣tions, and therefore it is, that I propose to my self in a thousand faces, those whom Fortune or their own Error torment and carry away; and moreover those, who more like to me, so negligently and incuriously receive their good Fortune. They are men who pass away their time indeed, they run over the present, and that which they possess, to give themselves up to hope, and for vain Shadows and Images which fancy puts into their Heads;

* 1.559Morte obita quales fama est volitare figuras, Aut quae sopitos deludunt somnia sensus.

* 1.560Such shapes they say that dead mens Spirits have, Or those in Dreams our drousie Sense deceive.

which hasten and prolong their flight, accor∣ding as they are pursu'd. The fruit and end of their pursuit is to pursue; as Alexander said, that the end of his labour was to labour.

Nil actum credens cum quid superesset agendum.* 1.561

Thinking nought done, if ought was left to do.

For my part then I love Life, and cultivate it, such as it hath pleas'd God to bestow it upon us; I do not desire it should be with∣out the necessity of eating and drinking; and I should think to offend no less ex∣cusably to wish it had been double.* 1.562 Sapiens divitiarum naturalium quaesitor acerrimus. A wise man is an avaricious gaper after natural riches. Nor that we should support our selves by putting only a little of that Drug in∣to our Mouths, by which Epimenides took away his Appetite, and kept himself alive. Nor that a man should stupidly beget Chil∣dren, with his Fingers or heels, but rather, with reverence I speak it, that we might vo∣luptuously beget them with our Fingers and heels. Nor that the Body should be without desire, and void of delight. These are ungrateful and wicked complaints. I ac∣cept kindly, and with acknowledgment, what Nature has done for me; am well pleas'd with it, and proud of it. A man does wrong to the Great and Potent Giver of all things, to

refuse, disannull, or disfigure his Gift; He has made every thing well. Omnia quae se∣cundum Naturam sunt aestimatione digna sunt.* 1.563 All things that are according to Nature are worthy of esteem. Of Philosophical Opini∣ons, I more willingly embrace those that are most solid; that is to say, the most humane, and most our own: my Discourse is, sui∣tably to my manners, low and humble: I then bring forth a Child to my own liking, when it puts it self upon its Ergo's, to prove that 'tis a barbarous alliance to mar∣ry the Divine with the Earthly, the Reaso∣nable with the Vnreasonable, the Severe with the Indulgent, and the Honest with the Dis∣honest. That Pleasure is a brutish quality, unworthy to be tasted by a wise man. That the sole Pleasure that he extracts from the enjoyment of a fair young Wife, is a pleasure of his Conscience, to perform an action according to order; as to put on his Boots for a profitable Journey. Oh, that his followers had no more right, nor nerves, nor juyce, in getting their Wives Maiden∣heads, than in his Lessons. 'Tis not what Socrates says, who is both his Master and ours. He values as he ought Bodi∣ly pleasure, but he preferrs that of the Soul, as having more force, constancy, fa∣cility, variety and dignity. This, according to him, goes by no means alone, he is not so fantastick, but only it goes first. Temperance in him is the Moderatrix, not the Adversary

of his Pleasures. Nature is a gentle guide, but not more sweet and gentle than prudent and just.* 1.564 Intrandum est in rerum naturam & penitus quid ea postulet, per videndum. A man must search into the Nature of things, and ex∣amine what she requires. I hunt after her foot throughout, but we have confounded it with artificial Truces. And that Academick and Peripatetick good, which is to live according to it, becomes by this means hard to limit and explain. And that of the Stoicks, Cousin-German to it, which is to consent to Nature. Is it not an errour to esteem any Actions less worthy, because they are Necessary? And yet they cannot beat it out of my Head, that it is not a convenient marriage of Pleasure with Necessity, to which, says an Ancient, the Gods do always consent. To what end do we dismember by Divorce, a building uni∣ted by so mutual and brotherly a Correspon∣dence? Let us, on the contrary, repair and corroborate it by mutual Offices, let the Mind rouse and quiken the heaviness of the Body, and the Body stop and fix the levity of the Soul.* 1.565 Qui velut summum bonum laudat Animae Naturam, & tanquam malum, Naturam Carnis accusat, profecto & Animam carnaliter appetit, & Carnem carnaliter fugit, quoniam id Vanitate sentit humana, non veritale Divina. Who commends the Nature of the Soul as the su∣pream good, and accuses the Nature of the Flesh as evil, does certainly both carnally affect the Soul, and carnally flies the flesh, because he is

so possess'd through humane vanity, and not by Divine truth. In this Present that God has made us, there is nothing unworthy our care; we stand accountable even to an hair. And 'tis no slight Commission to man, to conduct man according to his condition. 'Tis express, plain, and the principal injun∣ction of all, and the Creator has seriously and strictly enjoyn'd it. Authority has alone the power to work upon common Under∣standings, and is of more weight in a Fo∣reign Language, and therefore let us again charge it in this place. Stultitia proprium quis non dixerit ignave, & contumaciter fa∣cere quae facienda sunt; & alio corpus im∣pellere, alio animum, distrahique inter diver∣sissimos motus? Who will not say, that it is the property of folly, slothfully and contuma∣ciously to perform what is to be done, and to bend the Body one way and the Mind another, and to be distracted betwixt most different motions? Which to make apparent, makes any one another day tell you what whimsies and imaginations he put into his own pate, and upon the account of which he di∣verted his thoughts from a good meal, and complains of the time he spends in eating: you will find there is nothing so insipid in all the Dishes at your Table, as this wise meditation of his (for the most part we had better sleep than wake to the purpose we do) and that his Discourses and Notions are not worth the worst Mess there: Though

they were the Raptures of Archimedes him∣self, what were they worth? I do not here speak of, nor mix with the rabble of us ordinary men, and the vanity of the thoughts and desires that divert us, those venerable Souls, elevated by the ardour of Devotion and Religion, to a constant and conscienti∣ous meditation of Divine things, who, by a lively endeavour and vehement hope, pre∣possessing the use of the eternal nourishment, the final aim and last step of Christian de∣sires, the sole, constant, and incorruptible pleasure, disdain to apply themselves to our necessitous, fluid, and ambiguous conveni∣ences, and easily resign to the Body the care and use of sensual and temperate feeding. 'Tis a priviledg'd study. I have ever amongst us observ'd, supercelestial opinions, and sub∣terranean manners, to be of singular accord. Aesop, that great man, saw his Master piss as he walk'd: What, said he, must we then dung as we run? Let us manage our time as well as we can, there will yet remain a great deal that will be idle and ill employ'd. As if the Mind had not other hours enow wherein to do its business, without disasso∣ciating it self from the Body, in that little space it needs for its necessity. They will put themselves out of themselves, and escape from being men. 'Tis folly, instead of trans∣forming themselves into Angels, they trans∣form themselves into Beasts, and instead of elevating, lay themselves lower. These tran∣scendent

Humours affright me, like high and inaccessible Cliffs and Precipices: And no∣thing is hard for me to digest in the Life of Socrates, but his Ecstasies, and communicati∣on with Devils. Nothing so Humane in Pla∣to, as that for which they say he was call'd Divine. And of our Sciences, those seem to be the most terrestrial and low that are highest mounted. And I find nothing so hum∣ble and mortal in the Life of Alexander, as his fancies about immortalization. Philo∣tus pleasantly quipt him in his answer. He congratulated him by Letter concerning the Oracle of Jupiter Hammon, who had plac'd him amongst the Gods; Vpon thy account, I am glad of it, said he, but the men are to be la∣mented, who are to live with a man, and to obey him, who exceeds, and is not conten∣ted with the measure of a man. Diis te mino∣rem quod geris, imperas. Because thou carriest thy self lower than the Gods, thou dost rule and command. The queint Inscription where∣with the Athenians honour'd the entry of Pompey into their City, is conformable to my sense:

D'autant es tu Dieu, comme Tu te recognois homme.

By so much thou a God appear'st to be, By how much thou a man confessest thee.

'Tis an absolute, and as it were, a Divine Per∣fection, for a man to know how loyally to

enjoy his Being: We seek other conditions, by reason we do not understand the use of our own; and go out of our selves, because we know not how there to reside. 'Tis to much purpose to go upon stilts, for when upon stilts, we must yet walk upon our Legs; And when seated upon the most elevated Throne in the World, we are but seated up∣on our Breech. The fairest Lives, in my opi∣nion, are those which regularly accommodate themselves to the common and humane mo∣del; but without miracle, and without ex∣travagance. But old Age stands a little in need of a more gentle Treatment. Let us re∣commend it to God, the Protector of Health and Wisdom, but withall, let us be gay and sociable:

Frui paratis & valido mihi Latoë dones, & precor integra Cum mente, nec turpem senectam Degere, nec Cythara carentem.

Latona's Son, In Mind,* 1.566 and Bodies health my own T'enjoy; old Age from dotage free, And solac'd with the Lute, give me.

The end of the Third and last Book of Montaign's Essays.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Ter. Heaut. Act. 4. Sc. 1.
• * 1.2

  Treachery rejected by Tyberius.
• * 1.3

  Lucan. l. 2.
• * 1.4

  Vices Ne∣cessary in all Govern∣ments.
• * 1.5

  That 'tis neither Honoura∣ble, nor Honest, to stand Neu∣ter in a Ci∣vil War.
• * 1.6

  Livie. l. 32.
• * 1.7

  Wherein Double-dealing Men are of Use.
• * 1.8

  Cicero de Off. l. 1.
• * 1.9

  Cicero de Off. l. 5.
• * 1.10

  Seneca Epist. 97.
• * 1.11

  Wherein Treachery is only to be excus'd.
• * 1.12

  A Slave thrown from the Tarpeian Rock for his Trea∣son.
• * 1.13

  Three Servants hang'd for betraying Canacre their Ma∣ster.
• * 1.14

  Virgins could not be put to Death at Rome.
• * 1.15

  Criminals condemn'd to execute them∣selves.
• * 1.16

  Cicero de Off. l. 3.
• * 1.17

  Private Utility not to be pre∣ferr'd be∣fore Faith given.
• * 1.18

  Cicero de Off. l. 3.
• * 1.19

  Ovid.
• * 1.20

  Cicero de Off. l. 6.3.
• * 1.21

  Lucan. l. 7.
• * 1.22

  Propert.
• * 1.23

  Seneca Epist.
• * 1.24

  Cicero de Nat. Dei. lib. 1.
• * 1.25

  What Re∣pentance is.
• * 1.26

  Hor. lib. 4. Ode 10.
• * 1.27

  No man a Prophet in his own Country.
• * 1.28

  Lucan. lib. 4.
• * 1.29

  Devotion easie to counter∣feit.
• * 1.30

  Repen∣tance whence produc'd.
• * 1.31

  Livius, l. 34.
• * 1.32

  That our Inclinati∣ons are not always to be fol∣low'd.
• * 1.33

  Senec. Epist. 56.
• * 1.34

  Cice. Thus. l. 5.
• * 1.35

  Magisteri∣al Lan∣guage to Servants reprov'd.
• * 1.36

  Hor. lib. 3. Ode 19.
• * 1.37

  Paraphras'd by T. F.
• * 1.38

  Juven. Sat. 6.
• * 1.39

  Poesie al∣lowed to Women.
• * 1.40

  What kind of Philoso∣phy is pro∣per for Women.
• * 1.41

  Cicer••.
• * 1.42

  Ovid. Trist. l. 1. El. 1.
• * 1.43

  Modest and noble Amours of Tiberius.
• * 1.44

  Those of Flora.
• * 1.45

  Seneca de Consol. ad Polib. c. 26.
• * 1.46

  What Wo∣mens mournings commonly are.
• * 1.47

  Juven. Sat. 6.
• * 1.48

  How Con∣solation ought to be pra∣ctic'd.
• * 1.49

  Ovid. Me∣tam. lib. 10.
• * 1.50

  Cicero, Thus. l. 5.
• * 1.51

  Aeneid. l. 4.
• * 1.52

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.53

  The vali∣ant Death of Gryllus.
• * 1.54

  Cicero. Thus. l. 3.
• * 1.55

  The cheer∣ful Death of Epami∣nondas.
• * 1.56

  Cicero. Thus. l. 2.
• * 1.57

  Persius. Sat. 6.
• * 1.58

  Lucret. l. 4.
• * 1.59

  Lucret. l. 4.
• * 1.60

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.61

  Time the Physician of our Pas∣sions.
• * 1.62

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.63

  Lucan. l. 2.
• * 1.64

  Criminals yards ty'd up to stop their U∣rine.
• * 1.65

  Prop. lib. 3. Eleg. 3.
• * 1.66

  Ovid. Trist. l. 4. El. 1.
• * 1.67

  Petron. Ar∣biter.
• * 1.68

  Mart. l. 10. Ep. 23.
• * 1.69

  Ennius.
• * 1.70

  Cicero de Senec.
• * 1.71

  Hora. l. 4. Ode 12.
• * 1.72

  Ovid de Ponto.
• * 1.73

  Ovid de Tris.
• * 1.74

  Corn. Gallus.
• * 1.75

  Hor. Ep. 13.
• * 1.76

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.77

  Syd. Apollin. l. 1.
• * 1.78

  Seneca, Epist. 53.
• * 1.79

  Lying worse than the sin of unclean∣ness.
• * 1.80

  Auricular Confession.
• * 1.81

  Bashfulness an Orna∣ment in young People.
• * 1.82

  Plutarch.
• * 1.83

  Lucret.
• * 1.84

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.85

  Aeneid. l. 4.
• * 1.86

  Tasso, Gant. 12.
• * 1.87

  Mr. Fair∣fax.
• * 1.88

  Juven. Sat. 6.
• * 1.89

  Virgil, Aeneid. lib. 8.
• * 1.90

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.91

  Virg. Georg. l. 3.
• * 1.92

  Erasm. Ad••g.
• * 1.93

  Gallus. Ele. 1.
• * 1.94

  Juven. Sat. 9.
• * 1.95

  Ovid. Me∣tam. lib. 3.
• * 1.96

  Mr. Sandys.
• * 1.97

  Juvenal. Sat. 6.
• * 1.98

  Mart. l. 12. Epig. 99.
• * 1.99

  Chastity vow'd and kept on the Wedding day.
• * 1.100

  Beech-Tree.
• * 1.101

  Horace, lib. 3. Ode 6.
• * 1.102

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.103

  Virg. Georg. l. 3.
• * 1.104

  Catullus.
• * 1.105

  Horace, Ep. 8.
• * 1.106

  Whores kept in Temples for the use of those who came 〈…〉〈…〉.
• * 1.107

  Codpices worn.
• * 1.108

  Virgil. Georg. l. 3.
• * 1.109

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.110

  Horace, lib. 2. Ode 12.
• * 1.111

  Div. Hieron. in Epist.
• * 1.112

  Ovid de Art. Aman∣di.
• * 1.113

  Jealousie and Envy.
• * 1.114

  Ovid.
• * 1.115

  Catullus. Ep. 15.
• * 1.116

  Ovid. Me∣tam. lib. 4.
• * 1.117

  Mr. Sandys.
• * 1.118

  Virgil. Aeneid. l. 8.
• * 1.119

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.120

  Ibid.
• * 1.121

  Ibid.
• * 1.122

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.123

  Catullus, Num. 69.
• * 1.124

  Ibid.
• * 1.125

  Propertius.
• * 1.126

  Aeneid. lib. 5.
• * 1.127

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.128

  Catullus, Num. 68.
• * 1.129

  Mart. Ep. lib. 7. Epig. 61.
• * 1.130

  Id. lib. 6. Ep. 7.
• * 1.131

  D. Aug. de Civit, 1.1. Cap. 18.
• * 1.132

  The ex∣tream Chastity of some Wo∣men.
• * 1.133

  Women prostituted by the me∣diation of their Hus∣bands, and for their Advan∣tage.
• * 1.134

  Juven. Sat. 6.
• * 1.135

  Sir Robert Stapleton.
• * 1.136

  Lucret. l. 3.
• * 1.137

  Catullus.
• * 1.138

  Ovid Trist. lib. 4. El. 1.
• * 1.139

  Teren. Eunu. Act. 4. Sc. 7.
• * 1.140

  Aeneid. lib. 12.
• * 1.141

  Lucret. lib. 1.
• * 1.142

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.143

  Sen. Ep. 33.
• * 1.144

  Quintil. lib. 10.
• * 1.145

  Definition of Love.
• * 1.146

  Claudian.
• * 1.147

  Hora. lib. 1. Sat. 1.
• * 1.148

  Terence.
• * 1.149

  Virg. Georg. lib. 2.
• * 1.150

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.151

  Gallus Eleg. 1.
• * 1.152

  Ovid Am. lib. 1. El. 5.
• * 1.153

  Catullus.
• * 1.154

  Mart. lib. 7. Epig. 94.
• * 1.155

  The Corps of beauti∣ful Women kept three dayes in Egypt be∣fore they were in∣terr'd.
• * 1.156

  Id. lib. 11. Epig. 61.
• * 1.157

  Catullus.
• * 1.158

  Tibullus.
• * 1.159

  Ovid. Am. l. 3. Eleg. 4.
• * 1.160

  Seneca in Epist.
• * 1.161

  Alexander and Thale∣stris.
• * 1.162

  Affections of Women subject to change.
• * 1.163

  Inconstan∣cy pardo∣nable in Women.
• * 1.164

  Andreosse hang'd by his Wife Joan Queen of Naples, for not being sufficiently furnish'd.
• * 1.165

  Men strip'd na∣ked before Marriage.
• * 1.166

  Mart. l. 7. Epig. 57.
• * 1.167

  Catullus.
• * 1.168

  Virg. Georg. lib. 3.
• * 1.169

  Old mens Love fee∣ble and im∣perfect.
• * 1.170

  Horace. Epod. 17.
• * 1.171

  Hor. lib. 2. Ode 4.
• * 1.172

  Sir Richard Fanshaw.
• * 1.173

  Aeneid. lib. 12.
• * 1.174

  Ovid Amo. l. 1. Eleg. 7.
• * 1.175

  Martial.
• * 1.176

  Beza.
• * 1.177

  St. Gelais.
• * 1.178

  Catullus.
• * 1.179

  The Au∣thor's Fi∣delity in Love.
• * 1.180

  Horat. lib. Ode 5.
• * 1.181

  Sir Rich. Fanshaw.
• * 1.182

  Terence. Eun. Act. 1. Scaen. 1.
• * 1.183

  Juven. Sat. 3.
• * 1.184

  Sir Robert Stapleton.
• * 1.185

  Natural Pleasures allow'd if moderate.
• * 1.186

  Horat. Epod. 12.
• * 1.187

  Hor. lib. 4. Ode 13.
• * 1.188

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.189

  Mart. li. 10. Epig. 90.
• * 1.190

  Ovid. Trist.
• * 1.191

  Painted Beauties reckon'd amongst Deformi∣ties.
• * 1.192

  At what Age Love is in his Throne.
• * 1.193

  Hor. lib. 2. Ode 5.
• * 1.194

  Hor. l. 4. Ode 13.
• * 1.195

  Divus Hieron.
• * 1.196

  Virg. Georg. lib. 3.
• * 1.197

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.198

  Catullus.
• * 1.199

  Lucret. l. 6.
• * 1.200

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.201

  Why they say God bless you when you Sneeze.
• * 1.202

  Why Peo∣ple are apt to vomit at Sea.
• * 1.203

  Seneca.
• * 1.204

  Livius, l. 22.
• * 1.205

  A De∣fence of Shields rang'd by one ano∣ther.
• * 1.206

  The exces∣sive ex∣pence of Monarchs a testimo∣ny of pusil∣lanimity.
• * 1.207

  The Pont-neuf at Pa∣ris.
• * 1.208

  Seneca.
• * 1.209

  Corinea apud Plu∣tarch.
• * 1.210

  Wherein Royal Vir∣tue con∣sists.
• * 1.211

  Cicero de Offi. Jem. Seneca de Benef. vel in Epist.
• * 1.212

  Tyrants hated by those whom they have unjustly advanc'd.
• * 1.213

  Cic. de Off. lib. 1.
• * 1.214

  Rich and sumptuous Amphithe∣aters.
• * 1.215

  Calphurni∣us, Eg. 7.
• * 1.216

  Juven. sat. 3.
• * 1.217

  Sir Robert Stapleton.
• * 1.218

  Calphur∣nius.
• * 1.219

  Calphur∣nius, Eg. 7.
• * 1.220

  Hor. lib. 4. Ode 9.
• * 1.221

  Sir Richard Fanshaw.
• * 1.222

  Lucretius, l. 5.
• * 1.223

  Cicero de nat. Deo. l. 1.
• * 1.224

  Printing in China.
• * 1.225

  Lucret. l. 2.
• * 1.226

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.227

  The mag∣nificent Garden of the King of Mexico.
• * 1.228

  The Offers of the Spa∣niards to the disco∣ver'd Indi∣ans.
• * 1.229

  The exces∣sive Ran∣som of the King of Peru.
• * 1.230

  Afterwards hang'd not∣withstand∣ing.
• * 1.231

  The Siege of Mexico.
• * 1.232

  The King taken Pri∣soner.
• * 1.233

  Put to the Wrack.
• * 1.234

  Afterwards hang'd.
• * 1.235

  Indian Pri∣soners burnt alive by the Spa∣niards.
• * 1.236

  The mag∣nificent Cawsey betwixt Quito and Cusco.
• * 1.237

  A Sove∣reign Au∣thority mov'd for a moderate Fortune.
• * 1.238

  That it is a troublesom and diffi∣cult Em∣ployment to com∣mand.
• * 1.239

  The Incon∣venience of Greatness.
• * 1.240

  The Pala∣dins.
• * 1.241

  Riding the great Horse the only true Exer∣cise of the Sons of Princes.
• * 1.242

  The prize of Elo∣quence re∣fus'd by Ti∣berius, and why.
• * 1.243

  Dionysius his flatte∣rers.
• * 1.244

  Those of Mithri∣dates.
• * 1.245

  Horace, lib. ••. sa••. 4.
• * 1.246

  Mr. Alex∣ander Brome.
• * 1.247

  Confe∣rence of greater ad∣vantage than the reading of Books.
• * 1.248

  Cicero de finib. l. 1.
• * 1.249

  Seneca.
• * 1.250

  Seneca.
• * 1.251

  Heraclitus.
• * 1.252

  Erasm. Adag.
• * 1.253

  Teren. And. Act. 4. sc. 2.
• * 1.254

  Juven. Sat. 8.
• * 1.255

  Sir Robert Stapleton.
• * 1.256

  Claudian.
• * 1.257

  Dignities more di∣stributed by For∣tune, than Merit.
• * 1.258

  Martial.
• * 1.259

  Virg. Aene∣id. l. 3.
• * 1.260

  How the Authority of the Counsels of Kings is to be preserv'd.
• * 1.261

  Hor. l. 1. Ode. 9.
• * 1.262

  Virg. Georg. lib. 1.
• * 1.263

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.264

  Plaut. Pherd.
• * 1.265

  Deification and Adora∣tion of the Kings of Mexico.
• * 1.266

  Cic. Offic. lib. 1.
• * 1.267

  Folly not to be cur'd by Admo∣nition.
• * 1.268

  Obstinacy a testimo∣ny of Fol∣ly.
• * 1.269

  Ovid. Trist. lib. 1. El. 6.
• * 1.270

  The Epito∣mizing of Books a foolish un∣dertaking, and with∣out honour to the Un∣dertaker.
• * 1.271

  Tacit. Ann. lib. 4.
• * 1.272

  Sen. Ep. 81.
• * 1.273

  The Cha∣racter of Tacitus.
• * 1.274

  Tyberius his trou∣ble of Con∣science about the Religion of his time.
• * 1.275

  A Souldi∣ers hands perish'd with cold, carrying a burthen of Wood.
• * 1.276

  A blind Woman cur'd by Vespasian.
• * 1.277

  Quint. Curtius.
• * 1.278

  Livius. l. 7.
• * 1.279

  Change pleasing to men.
• * 1.280

  Petronius Arbiter. Epig.
• * 1.281

  Spoke of a Water Hour-glass▪
• * 1.282

  Horat. l. 3. Ode 1.
• * 1.283

  Sir Richard Fanshaw.
• * 1.284

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.285

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.286

  The Go∣vernment of a Fami∣ly more troublesom than hard.
• * 1.287

  Cicer••.
• * 1.288

  Seneca. Epist. 13.
• * 1.289

  Prov. Lu∣cret. l. 1.
• * 1.290

  Virg. Aen. lib. 5.
• * 1.291

  Virg. Eclog. 2.
• * 1.292

  Hor. lib. 2. Ode. 6.
• * 1.293

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.294

  Cicero de Amicitia.
• * 1.295

  Seneca. Epist. 3.
• * 1.296

  Cicero.
• * 1.297

  Poverty af∣fected by Crates.
• * 1.298

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 5.
• * 1.299

  A piece of Copper Money worth three Far∣things.
• * 1.300

  Juven. sat. 13.
• * 1.301

  Sir Robert Stapleton.
• * 1.302

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.303

  Virg. Aene∣id. lib. 9.
• * 1.304

  The Law of Solon.
• * 1.305

  What is the best Govern∣ment for every Na∣tion.
• * 1.306

  Pybrac aux Quadrins.
• * 1.307

  Testimony of Monsieur de Pybrac, and Monsi∣eur de Foix.
• * 1.308

  Cic. de Offi. lib. 2.
• * 1.309

  Horat. l. 1. Ode 35.
• * 1.310

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.311

  Ter. Adel. Act. 4. Scen. 7.
• * 1.312

  Plaut.
• * 1.313

  The Estate of Rome, and its di∣verse forms.
• * 1.314

  The horri∣ble Confu∣sion under the first Emperour.
• * 1.315

  Lucan.
• * 1.316

  Lucan. l. 1.
• * 1.317

  Mr. May.
• * 1.318

  Aeneid. 11.
• * 1.319

  Hor. Epog. 13.
• * 1.320

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.321

  Repetition troublesom
• * 1.322

  Hor. Epod. 14.
• * 1.323

  Lyncestes kill'd with thrusts of Pikes by Alexanders Souldiers.
• * 1.324

  Cicero. Acad. l. 4.
• * 1.325

  The Wri∣tings of Antiochus corrected by himself in his more mature Age.
• * 1.326

  Ortogra∣phy and pointing despis'd.
• * 1.327

  Lycurgus the gene∣ral Trustee for all his fellow Ci∣tizens.
• * 1.328

  Promises to be strictly observ'd.
• * 1.329

  Cicero de Offic.
• * 1.330

  Ter. Adel. Act. 3. Scen. 5.
• * 1.331

  Cic. de Ami∣citia.
• * 1.332

  Aeneid. l. 12.
• * 1.333

  That 'tis injurious to refuse a Present.
• * 1.334

  That 'tis odious to reproach any with a Benefit conferr'd.
• * 1.335

  Virg. Ecl. 1.
• * 1.336

  Ovid. Trist. l. 4. Eleg. 1.
• * 1.337

  Lucan.
• * 1.338

  Mr. May.
• * 1.339

  Virg. Georg. l. 1.
• * 1.340

  The com∣mendation of Paris.
• * 1.341

  The Wa∣ter of the River Cho∣aspes the beverage of the Per∣sian Kings.
• * 1.342

  Death pre∣fer'd to ba∣nishment.
• * 1.343

  Aeneid. l. 6.
• * 1.344

  Vmbrellas of Italy
• * 1.345

  The Spanish way of tra∣velling.
• * 1.346

  That Con∣jugal Friendship grows warm by absence.
• * 1.347

  Ovid. Trist. l. 3. Eleg. 4.
• * 1.348

  Hor. lib. 2. Epist. 1.
• * 1.349

  Sir W. P.
• * 1.350

  Cic. Acad. lib. 4.
• * 1.351

  The be∣witch'd of Karenty.
• * 1.352

  Ter. Adelp. Act. 1. Scen. 1.
• * 1.353

  Of the Utility the absence of a Friend is.
• * 1.354

  viz. a Mid∣wife so call'd in French.
• * 1.355

  The eyes of dying Persons clos'd by their near∣est Relati∣ons.
• * 1.356

  Mourning very im∣proper about sick Persons.
• * 1.357

  Per. sat. 5.
• * 1.358

  How useful and neces∣sary a Friend is.
• * 1.359

  Lucret. l. 1.
• * 1.360

  The man∣ner of dy∣ing left to the choice of Crimi∣nals by the Tyrants.
• * 1.361

  Cic. Thus. lib. 5.
• * 1.362

  Cor. Nepos in vita At∣tici.
• * 1.363

  Worthy Men of great Solace in Travel.
• * 1.364

  Seneca. Epist. 6.
• * 1.365

  Cic. de Offi. lib. 1.
• * 1.366

  Aeneid. l. 4.
• * 1.367

  Hor. lib. 3. Ode. 3.
• * 1.368

  Sir Richard Fanshaw.
• * 1.369

  Cic. de Se∣nect. ex Enn.
• * 1.370

  Curtius.
• * 1.371

  Senec. Epist. 56.
• * 1.372

  Prop. l. 3. Eleg. 2.
• * 1.373

  Aen. lib. 6.
• * 1.374

  Cic. de Off. lib. 1.
• * 1.375

  Juv. Sat. 13.
• * 1.376

  Sir Robert Stapleton.
• * 1.377

  A Sage permitted to love.
• * 1.378

  Juven. Sat. 14.
• * 1.379

  Sir Rob. Stapleton.
• * 1.380

  Mart. lib. 7. Ep. 9.
• * 1.381

  Lucret. l. 8.
• * 1.382

  Catul. Epig. 8.
• * 1.383

  The Stu∣dents of Montagne Colledge in Paris.
• * 1.384

  Juven. Sat. 13.
• * 1.385

  Sir Robert Stapleton.
• * 1.386

  Seneca Epist. 2.
• * 1.387

  Meaning Rome.
• * 1.388

  Gratitude towards the dead.
• * 1.389

  Cic. de fin. lib. 5.
• * 1.390

  Seneca. Epist. 64.
• * 1.391

  Rome the common and uni∣versal City.
• * 1.392

  Sydonius Apol.
• * 1.393

  Hor. lib. 3. Ode. 16.
• * 1.394

  Sir Richard Fanshaw.
• * 1.395

  Hor. lib. 2. Ode. 16.
• * 1.396

  Children not much to be co∣veted, and why. Tertull. de pudicit.
• * 1.397

  Ovid de Trist. l. 3. Eleg. 2.
• * 1.398

  Seneca. Epist. 22.
• * 1.399

  Hor. lib. 2. Ode. 2.
• * 1.400

  Aeneid. lib. 10.
• * 1.401

  Seneca. Ep. 48.
• * 1.402

  Hor. lib. 4. Ode. 9.
• * 1.403

  Sir Richard Fanshaw.
• * 1.404

  That the chastise∣ment of Offences ought to be per∣form'd without anger.
• * 1.405

  Proverb.
• * 1.406

  Senec. Epist. 44.
• * 1.407

  Lucilius, lib. 5. apud Nonium.
• * 1.408

  Seneca Epist. 90.
• * 1.409

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 5.
• * 1.410

  The A∣bridgment of ten days offer'd by the Pope.
• * 1.411

  Patron. Arbit.
• * 1.412

  Quin. Cur. lib. 3.
• * 1.413

  Facility of People in suffering themselves to be im∣pos'd up∣on.
• * 1.414

  Diogenes patient of Cold.
• * 1.415

  A rich Vessel purposely broken by King Co∣tys, and why.
• * 1.416

  Seneca. Epist. 92.
• * 1.417

  Virgil. Aeneid. 10.
• * 1.418

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.419

  Buchanan.
• * 1.420

  Cicero Thus. l. 4.
• * 1.421

  Aeneid. lib. 10.
• * 1.422

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.423

  Cicero de Offi. lib. 2.
• * 1.424

  The Apple of Discord.
• * 1.425

  Juvenal.
• * 1.426

  Virg. Georg. lib. 2.
• * 1.427

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.428

  Hor. lib. 3. Ode. 17.
• * 1.429

  Sir. Rich. Fanshaw.
• * 1.430

  Quvito Cicero.
• * 1.431

  Cicero de Off. lib. 1.
• * 1.432

  Psal. 113.
• * 1.433

  Cicero Thus. l. 2.
• * 1.434

  Virgil. Aeneid. lib. 5.
• * 1.435

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.436

  The year cut ten days short∣er.
• * 1.437

  Persius. Sat. 5.
• * 1.438

  Cicero. Acad. lib. 4.
• * 1.439

  Cicero de divi. l. 2. Item Aug. de Civit. Dei, lib. 6. cap. 10.
• * 1.440

  A Priest that cur'd all sorts of Diseases by words and gestures.
• * 1.441

  Seneca. Epist. 118.
• * 1.442

  Cret. lib. 9.
• * 1.443

  Pliny.
• * 1.444

  Sic. ••il. Sen.
• * 1.445

  Witch∣markes.
• * 1.446

  Livius.
• * 1.447

  Cicero. Acad.
• * 1.448

  Lame Peo∣ple best at the sport of Venus.
• * 1.449

  Woman-weavers more lust∣ful than other Women.
• * 1.450

  The French Gentle∣mens Legs smaller than others and why.
• * 1.451

  Therame∣nez shoe.
• * 1.452

  Virg. Georg. l. 1.
• * 1.453

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.454

  Lucan. l. 2.
• * 1.455

  Seneca, Epist. 106.
• * 1.456

  Ibidem.
• * 1.457

  Thus. lib. 5▪
• * 1.458

  Sen. Epist.
• * 1.459

  Seneca. Epist. 115.
• * 1.460

  Seneca. Epist. 95.
• * 1.461

  Seneca.
• * 1.462

  Ovid.
• * 1.463

  Plutarch.
• * 1.464

  Aeneid. lib. 12.
• * 1.465

  Catullus.
• * 1.466

  Virgil. Georg. l. 1.
• * 1.467

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.468

  An Orch∣ard of ripe Apples in∣clos'd with∣in the Ro∣man Camp, left un∣touch'd to the Posses∣sor.
• * 1.469

  Virgil. Eleg. 1.
• * 1.470

  Ovid de Trist. l. 3. Eleg. 10.
• * 1.471

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 18.
• * 1.472

  Mr. Alex∣ander Brome.
• * 1.473

  Seneca.
• * 1.474

  Horace, lib. 1. Ode. 28.
• * 1.475

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.476

  Virg Georg. lib. 3.
• * 1.477

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.478

  A cruel Plague in Gascony.
• * 1.479

  Sepulture of the Neo∣rites.
• * 1.480

  Roman Souldiers suffocated with their own hands after the Battel of Cannae.
• * 1.481

  Seneca. Epist.
• * 1.482

  Seneca. Epist. 74.
• * 1.483

  Virgil.
• * 1.484

  Seneca.
• * 1.485

  ••ropert.
• * 1.486

  That Death ought not to be pre∣meditated.
• * 1.487

  Cic. Thus.
• * 1.488

  Horace, lib. 1. Epist. 1.
• * 1.489

  Sir. Rich. Fanshaw.
• * 1.490

  Seneca. Epist. 92.
• * 1.491

  Socrates his pleed∣ing.
• * 1.492

  The pub∣lick Ex∣chequer.
• * 1.493

  Lecret. l. 2.
• * 1.494

  Beasts na∣turally sol∣licitous of their pre∣servation.
• * 1.495

  Old Age unfit for the writing of Books.
• * 1.496

  Socrates a deform'd Fellow.
• * 1.497

  Cic. Thus. lib. 1.
• * 1.498

  What Beauty is, and how much to be esteem'd.
• * 1.499

  Beautiful Persons fit to com∣mand.
• * 1.500

  Terence, He∣aut. Act. 1. Scen. 1.
• * 1.501

  Aenid. l. 6.
• * 1.502

  Catullus.
• * 1.503

  Aristotle reproach'd for being merciful.
• * 1.504

  Manil.
• * 1.505

  Tacitus.
• * 1.506

  Passengers made use of for Judges.
• * 1.507

  Prop. lib. 3. Eleg. 3.
• * 1.508

  Lucan. lib. 1.
• * 1.509

  Claud. vel. Lucan.
• * 1.510

  Cicero, Acad. l. 1.
• * 1.511

  Ovid Me∣tam.
• * 1.512

  Virg. Georg.
• * 1.513

  Cic. de fin. lib. 3.
• * 1.514

  Aencid. l. 5.
• * 1.515

  Mart. Epig. lib. 10. Chap. 47.
• * 1.516

  Free Ad∣vice neces∣sary for Kings.
• * 1.517

  Hor. Car.
• * 1.518

  Pall'd wine in esteem in Portu∣gal.
• * 1.519

  Juven. Sat. 6.
• * 1.520

  Seneca. Epist. 92.
• * 1.521

  Aeneid. l. 6. Gallus. Elcg. 1.
• * 1.522

  Catullus Num. 64.
• * 1.523

  Hor. lib. 3. Ode 16.
• * 1.524

  Ovid.
• * 1.525

  Ovid.
• * 1.526

  Ovid.
• * 1.527

  Gal. Eleg. 1.
• * 1.528

  The folly of Ctesi∣phon.
• * 1.529

  The Stone ordinary in old men, especially men of Quality.
• * 1.530

  Ovid.
• * 1.531

  Health more plea∣sant after Sickness.
• * 1.532

  The gues∣sing at dis∣eases by Urine ve∣ry uncer∣tain.
• * 1.533

  Aeneid. l. 2.
• * 1.534

  Mr Ogilby.
• * 1.535

  Seneca Epist. 961
• * 1.536

  Hor. lib. 3. ode 10.
• * 1.537

  Ovid. Trist.
• * 1.538

  Juvenal.
• * 1.539

  Cicero de Div.
• * 1.540

  The At∣lants ne∣ver dream.
• * 1.541

  Seneca Ep. 18.
• * 1.542

  Hor. l. 1. Epist. 5.
• * 1.543

  Seneca Ep. 123.
• * 1.544

  That Mo∣thers ought not to have the Edu∣cation of their Children.
• * 1.545

  The noble humour of Chelonis.
• * 1.546

  Long meals of the Anti∣ents.
• * 1.547

  Cicero.
• * 1.548

  Ibid.
• * 1.549

  Chrysippus drunk in his Legs.
• * 1.550

  Greedy eating re∣prov'd by Diogenes.
• * 1.551

  Eating Schools at Rome.
• * 1.552

  Musick ba∣nish'd from Tables by Alcibiades, and why.
• * 1.553

  Hor. l. 1. Ode. 2.
• * 1.554

  Hor. lib. 1. Ode 7.
• * 1.555

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 1.556

  Cicero de fin. l. 2.
• * 1.557

  Cicero. Thus. l. 4.
• * 1.558

  Seneca. Epist. 15.
• * 1.559

  Aenid. lib. 10.
• * 1.560

  Mr. Ogilby.
• * 1.561

  Lucan. l. 2.
• * 1.562

  Seneca. Epist. 119.
• * 1.563

  Cicero.
• * 1.564

  Cicero de fin. l. 5.
• * 1.565

  Aug. verb. Apost. ser. 13. lib. 6.
• * 1.566

  Sir Richard Fanshaw.