The workes of Lucius Annæus Seneca, both morrall and naturall Containing, 1. His bookes of benefites. 2. His epistles. 3. His booke of prouidence. 4. Three bookes of anger. 5. Two bookes of clemencie. 6. His booke of a blessed life. 7. His booke of the tranquilitie of the minde. 8. His booke of the constancie of a wiseman. 9. His booke of the shortnesse of life. 10. Two bookes of consolation to Martia. 11. Three bookes of consolation to Heluia. 12. His booke of consolation to Polibius. 13. His seuen bookes of naturall questions. Translated by Tho. Lodge, D. in Physicke.

EPIST. CI.

Of the sudden death of one of his acquaintance, and by occasion that we are to trust or promise nothing to our selues. That all things are vncertaine, and therefore good life is not to be deferred, neyther long life to be desired: in conclusion, he controlleth MECAENAS his absurd vow.

EVery day, euery houre sheweth vs how vaine and nought worth we be, and by some new argument admonisheth vs that are for∣getfull of our frailty, when as it compelleth vs (who meditate vp∣pon eternitie) to looke backe vnto death. Askest thou me what this induction meaneth? Thou knewest Cornelius Senecio a Ro∣mane Knight, a man both rich, liberall, and courteous, who from a slender e∣state beginning, had raised his fortunes, and had attained the speedy meanes al∣ready to compasse the rest. For dignity doth more easily increase then begin. Mony also maketh the longest stay about pouerty, whilst she creepeth out of it. This Senecio aspired vnto riches, whereunto there were two very effectuall meanes that conducted him, that is to say, the knowledge of getti••g, and the meanes of keeping, whereof the one is sufficient to make a man rich. This man being wonderfully frugall, no lesse carefull of his patrimony then of his bodie, when as according to his custome he had s••ene me in the morning, when as from morning to night he had sitten by his friend that was grieuously sicke, and lay desperate without hope, af••er he had supped merrily, was seized with a sud∣den sickenesse, that is to say, with the Squinancy, which s••rangled him, and set his soule at libertie. He departed therefore within a few houres after he had per∣formed all the offices of an able and healthfull man. He that traded with his money both by Sea and Land, that had publique profit•• also, and left no kinde of profit vnsought after, in the very height of his succesfull fortunes, when as money rained on euery side into his coffers, was taken out of this life.

Now MAELIBEVS graft thy peares againe, And plant thy vines vpon the pleasant plaine.

How fond a thing it is to promise our selues long life, whereas we are scarcely Lords and Masters of to morrow. O how mad are they that feede on fained hopes, and long enterprises? I will buy, I will build, I will lend, I will recouer my debts, I will haue such and such estates, and then when I am fully satisfied, I will passe my full and weary age in repose and quiet. But trust me, all things are vncertaine, yea euen vnto those that thinke themselues most assured. No man ought to promise himselfe any thing of that which is to come. That also which we haue surest hold-fast of, slippeth thorow our fingers, and casualtie cuts that very cord in sunder whereon we haue greatest hold-fast. There is a prefixed or∣dinance in the reuolutions of the world, although they are marueilously obscu∣red. But what concerneth it me, whether that be certaine to nature, which is vncertaine to me? We purpose & intend great voyages by Sea, wherin we shall see many forraine parts, & resolue not to return again into our country of a long time: we must to the warres, and be richly recompenced after we haue passed thorow al the degrees of armes, & haue had commissions & honorable charges, more and more, the one after the other, when as in the meane while death stan∣deth by our sides, and because we neuer cast our eyes on that which is ours, but only vpon that which is anothers, from time to time the examples of our frailty appeare vnto vs, whereon we neuer thinke, but at such time as they stay before our eyes. But what is more foolish then to wonder to see that done in any day, which may be done in euery day. It is a thing most assured, that the scope of our life is limitted by the inexorable necessitie of destinie, but no man knoweth how neere it is. Let vs therefore so dispose our mindes, as if this present time were our last houre. Let vs deferre nothing. Let vs daily make euen with life. It is the greatest errour in life, that it is alwayes imperfect, and that some part thereof likewise is deferred. Hee that hath euery day laid the last hand on his life, needeth not time. But from this indigence proceedeth feare, and a desire of the future deuouring and eating our mindes. There is nothing more miserable then the doubt to things to come, why they happen. The soule that debateth what it is that remaineth, or of what kind is agitated with an inexplicable feare. How shall we auoid this perplexitie? By this one, if we prolong not our life in vaine discourse, but gather it into it selfe. For he to whom the present time is vn∣profitable, cannot haue any repose, in regard of the future•• But whereas what∣soeuer is due by me vnto my selfe, is restored to my selfe, whereas the confir∣med minde knoweth that there is no difference betweene a day and an age: she beholdeth, as it were, from an high tower, all the dayes and affaires that here∣after are to come, and with much laughter thinketh on the sequele of times. For what should the varietie and mutabilitie of fortunes trouble thee, if thou be assured against incertainties? Make hast therefore (my Lucillius) to liue, and thinke euery seuerall day, a seuerall life. Whosoeuer ordereth himselfe thus, he that maketh euery day his whole life, is secure. They that liue in hope, haue neuer any time of rest, they are alwayes desiring and coueting: and the appre∣hension of death a thing most miserable, and which maketh all things most mi∣serable neuer forsaketh them. From thence proceeded that dishonest wish of Moecenas, who contented himselfe to be weake, deformed, and tormented with grieuous and sharpe sicknesse, prouided he might prolong his life amiddest the masse of these miseries.

Make me weake in thigh and hand, Make my feet infirme to stand, Shake my teeth, and make them cracke, Stoope my shoulders, bend my backe; So my life remaine, I care not, Threaten torture, come and spare not.

This is to wish an extreame misery, if it should haue happened, and the length of the punishment is desired, as if it were some life. I should repute him a con∣temptible fellow, if he would liue vntill such time as hee were tied to the gal∣lowes. Yet this man saith, weaken me, prouided that my soule may remaine in my crased and vnprofitable bodie: dis••igure mee, if this counterfeit and mon∣strous bodie of mine may lengthen my life some dayes. Torture and crucifie me, if so be by that meanes I may liue. It is a strange matter in him to hide his wounds thus, and to be content to remaine hanged and stretched vpon a gibbet, vpon condition that death, which is the end of all punishment, and the soue∣raigne remedie against all euils, should be d••ferred in his behalfe. See heere a wondrou•• thing, I would hau•• a soule to die without dying. What wouldest thou wish for, O Maecenas, but that the gods should haue pitie on thee? Where∣to tendeth the villany of this verse, proceeding from an effeminate mind? What meaneth this couenant inuented by senselesse and madde feare? And to what purpose is this shamefull begging of loathsome life. Thinke you that Virgil e∣uer recited this verse vnto him,

To leaue this life, is it a thing so wretched?

He wisheth the worst of euils, and those things that are most grieuous to be suf∣fered, hee desireth to be grieuously tortured and hanged vp: and why, or for what recompence, for sooth, for a longer life. But what is this mans life? to die long. Is th••re any man found, who had rather parch himselfe vp amiddest tor∣tures, and to lose one member after another, and to die so oftentimes amiddest defluxions, as to die at one time? Was there euer any man that had rather wish to lie cou••hed all at his length vpon a miserable bed languishing, deformed, crook••d both before and behind, that besides his violent sicknesses, had other more mortall, that desireth to retaine a soule being tortured and rent in peeces by so many torments? Say now that the necessitie of death is not a great gift of Nature. Many as yet are readie to vow farre worse, yea euen to betray their friends that they may liue longer, and to deliuer their children to be deflowred with their owne hands, that they might prolong their life, being guiltie of so much wickednesse. We must shake off this desire of life, and learne this, that it skils not when thou sufferest any thing, which thou must suffer sometimes: that all in all is to liue well, without taking care how long, and that oftentimes also this well liuing consisteth in a life which is not long.