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. CIIII.

Of his sicknesse and the cure, and the charitie his wife had of him. That he had changed his abode for recreation sake, and hereupon an excellent discourse vpon trauaile. That it is not profitable of it selfe, except it be made so by the minde. Let that be amended, and the affections cut off, and that then euery station and estate will be pleasing. That there is likewise another kinde of trauaile, to haue recourse vnto ancient and great men, to behold them in our thoughts, and to imitate them. This rooteth out vices, that planteth vertues, and to this inuiteth he LVCILLIVS.

I Fled into my Grange at Momentanum: but why thinkest thou? to shun the Citie? No, the feuor which began to seaze vpon me. And now alreadie she had laid hold on me. Forthwith therefore I commanded my Coach to be made readie, although my wife Paulina were against it: My Physitian hauing touched my pulse, and finding the arterie beating incertainly and contrary to nature, said that it was the beginning of a feuor. Yet notwithstanding I resolued my selfe to set forward; remembring me of a speech of Gallio, my Lord and Master, who being in Achaia, and feeling himselfe surprised with a feuor, forthwith embar∣ked himselfe, crying out that this sicknesse of his proceeded from the aire of the Country, and not from his bodie. This tould I to my Paulina, who recommen∣ded my health vnto me. For whereas I know that her soule is translated and li∣ueth in mine, for her content sake I begin to haue a care of my health. But al∣though that old age hath fortified me against diuers difficulties, yet at this pre∣sent begin I to lose this benefit of age. I thought that in this old man there was a yong man, that was ouer much tendered. So then, because I cannot require that my wife should loue me more entirely then she doth, she hath begged so much at my hands, that now I cherish my selfe more tenderly then I otherwise did. For we must giue way vnto honest affections, and sometimes also, if vrgent causes require it, our soule in honor of our friends is to be recalled, though it be to our torment, and retained betwixt our teeth, because a vertuous man is bound to liue, not as long as he liketh, but as long as he must. He that without respect of his wife and friends, laboureth for nought else but to end his life, but demaundeth death is ouer delicate. Let the soule haue this commandement ouer her selfe, (when the profit of those, to whom she is obliged, requireth the same) to shunne death, not onely for her owne cause, but likewise when shee is

vpon the point to dislodge and leaue the bodie, to reenter againe, to the end she may be enabled to doe her friends seruice. It is the argument of a great minde to returne vnto life for another mans good, as diuers great personages haue ma∣ny times done. And this also esteeme I to be a great humanitie, to maintaine old age more intentiuely, (the fairest fruit whereof consisteth in maintenance of her health, and in liuing more orderly then he was accustomed) if thou knew that to be a thing either pleasant, profitable, or wished for of any of thy friends. Moreouer, there is a great ioy and profit therein. For what greater con∣tentment may there be, then to be so dearely beloued by a mans wife, that for that cause thou shouldest become more louing to thy selfe? My Paulina therfore cannot only impute her feare vnto me, but mine also. Demandest thou therfore what successe my determination had in going into the country? As soone as I had gotten out of the foggie aire of Rome, and from the stinck of the smookie chimneyes thereof, which being stirred, power forth whatsoeuer pestilent va∣pours they held inclosed in them, I felt an alteration of my disposition. How much, thinkest thou, was my strength encreased when I came vnto my Grange? No sooner entered I the meads, but I beganne to rush vpon my meate with a strong appetite. Thus therefore for the present haue I recouered my selfe, this leannesse of bodie which hath no securitie of health, and which beginneth to decline, is vanished from me, and I beginne to studie diligently. The place yeelds little furtherance thereunto, if the minde be not assistant to it selfe, for if he list amidst all affaires and troubles he may haue a place of retirement. But he that maketh choice of the place, and idleth it vainly, shall euery where finde a nooke wherein to restraine himselfe. For it is reported that Socrates (hearing a certaine man complaine that he had lost his time in trauelling heere and there) returned this answere: not without cause hath this befallen thee, for thou tra∣uelledst with thy selfe. O how happie would diuers men be, if they could wander from themselues. But they are the first that sollicite, corrupt, and ter∣rifie them selues. What auaileth it to passe the seas, and to change Cities? If thou wilt flie these things wherewith thou art vrged, thou needest not be in an∣other place, but become another man. Put case thou wert come to Athens, or to Rhodes; chuse what Citie thou pleasest. What skilleth it what manners they haue? Thou shalt carry thither thine owne. Thinkest thou that riches make men happie? Pouertie (yea the appearance and presumption thereof, which is a lamentable opinion) shall incessantly torture thee. For although thou possessest much, yet because another man hath more, thou shalt seeme vn∣to thy selfe by so much the poorer, by how much the other is more rich. Sup∣posest thou that honours are good? It shall grieue thee that such a man is made Consul, and that such a one hath twice enioyed the Office, it shal vex thee when thou shalt finde in the publike registers any mans name oftener then thine owne. So great shall the furie of thy ambition be, that if any one shall out∣strip thee, thou wilt not thinke that any marcheth behind thee. Wilt thou sup∣pose death to be an extreame euill? When as there is nothing euill in it, but the feare which is before it, not only the dangers, but the suspitions wil terrifie thee. Thou shalt incessantly be tormented with dreames and shadowes. For what shall it profit thee that thou hast escaped so many Cities of Greece, and made thy way by flight thorow the middest of thine enemies? Peace it selfe shall af∣fright thee. Thou shalt no wayes trust those things that are most a••sured, as soone as thy minde shall be shaken. For as soone as she hath gotten a custome to entertaine improuident feare, thou art no more disposed to entertaine any

repose or contentment in thy selfe. For she shunneth not, but flieth from the stroake, but if we turne our backes to afflictions, they haue greater holdfast on vs. Thou wilt iudge it a grieuous euill to lose any of those friends thou hast lo∣ued, whereas meane while it is as great folly to bewaile them, as to weepe, be∣cause the leaues of thy faire shadowing trees, which adorne thy house, are fal∣len and shaken to the ground. As much flourisheth the one, as the other which delighteth thee. Death will shake downe the one to day, the other to morrow. But as wee suffer patiently the fall and losse of the leaues of our trees, because they will spring againe: so oughtest thou to endure the losse of thy friends, whom thou conceitest to be the ioyes of thy life, because they shall be restored, although they be not now borne. But they shall not be such as they were whi∣lest they remained in this world. Neither shalt thou thy selfe be the same. E∣uery day, euery houre changeth thee, but in others the nourishment appeareth more easily, heere it lieth hidden, because it is not done openly. Some are carried away; but wee our selues are secretly stolne away. Wilt thou thinke of none of these things. Wilt thou apply no remedies to these wounds, but send vnto thy selfe the causes of thy cares, by hoping something and despai∣ring other? If thou beest wise, mixe the one with the other, neither hope thou without desperation, neither despaire without hope. What can trauell profit any man of it selfe? It tempereth not pleasures, it bridleth not desires, it pacifi∣eth not displeasures, it breaketh not the vntamed assaults of loue. To conclude, it disburtheneth the minde of no euill, neither gi••eth iudgement, nor shaketh off error, but detaineth the minde for a short time, and entertaineth it with no∣ueltie of things, as we see children stand at gaze, when they behold any thing which they haue not seene. To conclude, this going and comming doth no more but make the inconstant thought more light and stirring, which in the height of his euill, prouoketh and altereth it selfe in such sort, that they who most earnestly trauelled into any countrey•• depart from thence more hastily, and after the manner of skipping birds, flie thence more swiftly, then they came thither. Trauell will giue thee knowledge of Nations, will shew thee the new formes of Mountaines, the spacious and vnaccustomed plaines, the Valleyes watered vvith running Riuers, some floud that hath a certaine no∣table propertie, as Nilus, vvhich encreaseth in Sommer, or Tygris, vvhich loos•••••• it selfe, then hauing made a long circuit vnder the earth reentereth h••s channell, and reneweth his swift and spacious course as before, or hovv Meander (the exercise and play of all Poets) maketh an infinite vvindlas of turnes and retures, that oftentimes discharging her selfe from her owne channell streameth along the bedde of her neighbour flouds, and so retur∣neth. But such voyages will neither make thee more healthie, or more vvise. We must conuerse amongst studies, and amongst the authors of wisdome, that wee may learne that which wee desire to know, and seeke out that which is as yet vnfound. By this meanes must the minde bee redeemed from misera∣ble seruitude, and set at libertie. As long as thou shalt bee ignorant of that vvhich thou shouldest flie or follovv, of that vvhich is necessarie and superfluous, of that vvhich is iust and honest, this may not bee said a tra∣uaile, but an errour. Thi•• turmoyle vvill comfort thee nothing, for thou wanderest accompanied by thy affections, and thy euils follow thee. Would to God they might follow thee, and were further off from thee: now thou bea∣rest them on thy back, thou leadest them not. For which cause they euery way weigh thee downe, and feare thee with equall incommodities. The sicke man

must seeke out for a good medicine, not for a new country. Hath any one bro∣ken his leg, or put a member out of ioynt? He gets not to his coach, he embarkes not in his ship, but calleth for a Physitian, to the end he may vnite that which was broken, and set the ioynt in his place that was dislocated. To what end then thinkest thou, that by changing thy country, thou mayest heale thy brui∣sed and broken minde in so many places? This euill is more great then to be cu∣red by being carried hither and thither. Trauell neither maketh a Physitian no•• an Orator. There is neither art nor science that is learned by changing place in this sort. What then, is not wisdome which is the greatest treasure of all others learned in trauels? Trust mee, there is no iourn••y that may retire thee apart from thy desires, thy displeasures, and thy feares, or if there were any, all m••n∣kind by troopes would trauell and flocke thither. So long will these euils presse thee and macerate thee whilest thou wanderest by land and sea; as long as thou bearest the causes of thine euils in thee. Wonderest thou at this, that thy flight profit••th thee nothing. Why man, the things thou fliest are with the••. Mend thy selfe therefore, shake off thy burthens, and at least-wise containe thy desires within compasse. Roote all wickednesse out of thy minde, if thou wilt haue thy trauels delightfull, heale thy companion. Auarice will cling vnto thee as long as thou liuest with a couetous and base companion. Pride will clea•••• vnto thee, as long as thou conuersest with a proud man. Thou wilt neuer lay aside thy crueltie in a Hang-mans company. The fellowship of adulterors will en∣kindle thy lusts. If thou wilt be discharged of vices, thou must retire thy selfe a farre off from all euill examples. Auarice, dissolution, crueltie, fraud (such enemies that approching thee, will wound thee grieuously) are within thee. Acquaint thy selfe with the better sort, liue with such as Cato, Laelius, and T••∣bero were: and if thou take a liking to liue among the Grecians, conuerse with Socrates and with Zeno: The one will teach thee how to die, if it be needfull, the other how to die before it be needfull. Liue with Chrysippus and P••sidonius: These will teach thee the knowledge of diuine and humane things. These will command thee to put in practise that which thou hast learned, and not to con∣tent thy selfe with a polished tongue, which tickleth the eares of the hearers, but to fortifie thy heart, and to confirme it to confront casualtie. For the on∣ly port of this troubled and turbulent life is to contemne those things that may happen, to remaine resolute to oppose a naked bosome against all the darts of aduersitie, without playing the coward, or seeking starting holes. Nature hath created vs valiant, and as to some creatures she hath giuen a feirce, to some a sub∣till, to othersome a fearefull: so hath she giuen vs a glorious and high spirit, that seeketh where he may liue most honestly, not most securely; resembling the world, which in as much as humane abilitie will giue him leaue, hee followeth and counterfeiteth. He seeketh nothing but praise, and desireth to be seene. He is the loue of all things, and aboue all things. Hee therefore submitteth himselfe to nothing, nothing seemeth heauie vnto him, nothing that may make a man stoope.

Trauaile and death are vgly to behold.

Nothing so, if a man might behold them clearely, and breake thorow the dark∣nesse. Many things that haue beene esteemed dreadfull by night, haue proued trifles and iesting sports by day.

Trauaile and death are vgly to behold.

Worthily wrote our Virgil, he saith that they were not terrible indeed, but in semblance, that is, they seeme so to be, but are not. What is there, say I, in these so dreadfull as fame hath reported them? What is there I pray thee (my Lu∣cillius) that a man should feare either labour or death? Yet meete I with those men, that thinke all that impossible which they cannot doe, and say that wee speake greater matters then humane nature may sustaine or effect. But how farre better opinion haue I of them? They also can doe these things, but they will not. To conclude, whom haue euer these precepts failed that haue dained to make vse of them, who found them not more easie in action then in instru∣ction? It is not because they are difficult, that we dare not; but because we dare not, they are difficult. Yet if you require an example, behold Socrates, that most patient man, tossed in so many dangers; inuincible in pouertie, which his do∣mestique burthens made more grieuous and cumbersome, inuincible in those labours he suffered in warre, and wherewith at home he was daily exercised: whether you respect his wife fierce in manners, and froward in tongues or his rebellious and disobedient children, more like their mother then their father. So for the most part he either was in warre, or in tyrannie, or in libertie, more cruell then warres or tyrannies. Seuen and twentie yeares he bare armes, and hauing laid them aside, he saw his Citie enthralled vnder thirtie Tyrants, of which the most part of them were his enemies. The last of these is his con∣demnation vrged against him for most hainous crimes. The violating of Reli∣gion is obiected against him, and the corruption of youth, which ••e was said to enforce against the gods, against parents, and his Common-weale. After all this, his prison and poison. So farre were these things from mouing Socrates minde, that they neuer moued his countenance. He maintained that his won∣derfull and singular praise vntill his dying day. No man saw Socrates either more merrie or more sad, he continued equall in so great inequalitie of fortune. Wilt thou haue another example? Take me that Cato of Vtica, with whom Fortune dealt more cruelly, and more obstinately. Against which, whilest in all places he had made head; and last of all in his death: yet approued he that a confident and valiant man may liue and die in spite of Fortune. All his life∣time was spent in ciuill warre. And although thou say that this man, no lesse th••n Socrates, spent his life in seruitude: except a man may happily thinke that Cneus Pompey, and Caesar, and Crassus, were confederates to maintaine libertie. There was no man that euer saw Cato changed in a Common-weale so often∣times changed, in all occurrences he shewed himselfe one. In his Pretorship, in his repulse, in his accusation, in his prouince, in his speeches in the Armie, in his death; finally, in that garboyle of the Common-weale, when as on the one side Caesar had trusted his fortunes to ten valiant legions, on that side to the for∣ces of so many forren Nations, and Pompey to his owne forces; when some en∣clined vnto Caesar, other some vnto Pompey•• Cato onely maintained leuied armes for common libertie. If thou wouldest imagine in thy mind the Image of that time, thou shalt see on the one side the people with listening eare, harkening af∣ter nothing but noueltie; on the otherside the Senators and Knights and what∣soeuer was either holy and chosen in the Citie: two onely left in the mid∣dest, the Common-weale and Cato. Thou wilt wonder, say I, if thou shalt obserue.

ATRIDES graue, and PRIAMVS the olde, And Troians greatest feare, ACHILLES bolde.

For he condemneth both, and disarmeth both; and this is his opinion of both: he saith, that if Caesar preuaile, he will die: if Pompey, he will be banished; what had he to feare which had decreed that against himselfe, eyther if he hapned to be eyther conquerour or conquered, which might haue beene decreed by his most bitter enemies; he died therfore by his owne decree. Seest thou that men can suffer labours? He led his armie on foote thorow the midst of the deserts of Africa. Seest thou that they may endure thirst? Leading the remainder of his conquered Armie along the desert hills, without any baggage, he suffered the want of drink, being soultered in his armor, and as often as occasion offered him water he was the last that drunke. Seest thou that honour and authority may be contemned? The same day he was repulsed from the office he stood for, the same day played he at the ball in the market-place. Seest thou that great mens power may not be feared? He opposed himsel•••• against Pompey and Caesar at one time; the one of which no man durst offe••d, except it were to win the fa∣uour of the other. Seest thou that death may be as well contemned as banish∣ment? He both pronounced exile and death against himselfe, & in the Interim warre. We may then haue the same resolution against all accidents, prouided, that we take a pleasure to discharge our necks of the yoake. First of all there∣fore pleasures are to be despised, for they weaken, disable, and demaund much, and much is to be required at fortunes hands. After these riches are to be de∣spised, which are the recompences of seruitude. Let golde and siluer, and what else soeuer loadeth happie houses be left: libertie is not bought for nothing, if thou highly prise her, thou must misprise and neglect all the rest.