The English gentleman containing sundry excellent rules or exquisite observations, tending to direction of every gentleman, of selecter ranke and qualitie; how to demeane or accommodate himselfe in the manage of publike or private affaires. By Richard Brathwait Esq.

Argument.

Of Acquaintance; Of the choice of Acquaintance; Of constancie in the choice of Acquaintance; Of reser∣vancie towards Acquaintance; Of the absolute end of Acquaintance.

ACQVAINTANCE.

THe comfort of an Active life consists in societie, as the content of a Contem∣plative consists in Priva∣cie. Intermission of Acti∣on in the former, is a kinde of death; Intention to Devotion in the latter, is a pleasant life. For solita∣rie places are the best for prayer; but publike for practice. We reade that Christ went out into a solitary

place, and there prayed: but hee entered into the Sy∣nagogue, and there preached; that such Libertines as were there trained might bee reclaimed. And Wisdome cryeth without, and uttereth her voice in the streets, that her words might bee practised. As there is no publike State which can subsist without commerce, trafficke, and mutuall society; so there is no creature living, whose life would not bee tedious, being debarred from all use of company. There are two Birds which are noted both in divine and humane writ to be lovers of solitarinesse; the Owle in the De∣sart, and the Pelicane in the Wildernesse. Which two, among divers other birds, were accounted uncleane, and therefore were not to bee eaten by the Iewes. As retirednesse from occasions abroad, makes us more se∣rious in occasions at home: so this privacie or solitari∣nesse makes the memory more retentive in affaires use∣full to our selves, but withdrawes our hand from affor∣ding helpe or assistance to others. But life should bee communicative; not only intending it selfe; but la∣bouring wherein it may doe good to any. For whereas Saint Bernard saith, that the a affinity is neere betweene the dwellers in a Cell and in heaven: it is to bee under∣stood, that such whose mortified affections, and rege∣nerate will have concluded all b worldly honours to bee worldly tumours; and all c secular honour to be the De∣vills trafficke, have stepped neere unto heaven. Nei∣ther are we to conclude thence, that such who have to deale in the world, by commerce at home and abroad, are excluded from this affinity. For there are many (as we are to be charitably perswaded) who live in the world, & have to do with the world, yet are not of the world; that is, are not so affected to the world, as they could not finde in their hearts to forgoe all things they have in the world, for the love of him that created the world. Yea, who will not say, and with much com∣fort

affirme, We will seeke one good wherein consisteth all good, and that sufficeth; we will seeke one joy wherein con∣sisteth all joy, and this onely joyes us. It is Grace and not the Place, which saveth the soule. For as there may bee a wolfe in sheeps cloathing, so there may bee a worldly minde in a Hermits dwelling. Mans security is the deuills opportunity, which may be found in the Wildernesse as well as in the World; neither is the one place lesse subject to temptation than the other. The Wildernesse is secret, yet Christ was tempted in it. The Night is silent, yet doth that princely Prophet warne us, To lift up our hands in the night watches of temptati∣on. For the life of man, as it is a continuall temptation, so is there neither time, place, sexe nor condition ex∣empted from temptation. The Monks Cell and the Monarchs Court are equally subject to it. This, de∣vout Bernard seemes to confirme in his description of such as professed a Monasticke life, saying; They were large promisers, but slow performers, faire-tongued flat∣terers, but snarling back-biters, simple-seeming dissem∣blers, but malicious betrayers. Againe, We (saith hee) receive all into our Monasteries, in hope to better them; whereas in the Court it is more usuall, to receive such as are good, than to make them good: for we have found by experience, that more good men have decreased than pro∣fited in it. Hence we may conclude this point, that no place is privileged from temptation, neither Cell nor Court: but those places are, and have beene ever most subject to danger, where men were left to them∣selves to enter lists with temptation. Which procee∣deth either from the naturall frailty of man, in that he falleth from best to worst; or his want of judgement to discerne best from worst: whence the Poet most divinely concludeth;

When want of judgement reignes in humane brest, The best is ta'ne for worst, the worst for best.

God in his sacred wisdome having created man, thought it not good that hee should bee alone; and therefore made him an helpe meet for him. It was an excellent saying of that sage Cynicke, who seeing a young man all alone by himselfe, and demanding of him what he was doing, I am talking (quoth the young man) with my selfe; Take heed (said hee) thou talke not with thine Enemie. For howsoever Cato might say in respect of the inward delight hee tooke in Contempla∣tion, I am never lesse alone, than when alone; we shall finde this true, that man is never more ready to give way to temptation, than when hee is alone. How needfull then is Acquaintance, being indeed the life of the living; the particular benefits whereof extend to discourse, advice and action?

It is Experience hath begot wisdome, and Memory as a mother hath brought it forth. Now, what experi∣ence could we gaine, if wee should only be left to our selves, and have none to helpe us in treaties or matters of conference? It is said of Demosthenes, that he reco∣vered his speech only by direction; long would it be ere we attained to any perfection of speech, either in manner or matter, if we wanted these usuall helps of conference, which enable us when, where and how we should speake. For as the Satyre was afraid at the first sight of fire; or that Captaine, who looking him∣selfe in a glasse when hee was angry, was affrighted with his owne countenance, so should we, having ne∣ver consorted or conversed with men, stand amazed when we approached their companie. For what is it that ministers boldnesse and audacity to men, save their usuall frequent of assemblies? or what is it, that so much benefits their knowledge, but their acquaintance with such who are professants of knowledge? Plu∣tarch reporteth, that Plato came forth of Asia into Cilicia, for no other cause but onely to see his deare

friend Phocion the Philosopher. See here the love of good men one to another; for amongst evill men can be no true friendship. For it is the ayme of acquain∣tance that makes it good or evill; as to insinuate ones selfe into acquaintance for their owne ends, to wit, to profit by it, or worke on others weaknesse, this is ac∣quaintance for Macchiavells Schollers, whose principall ayme is to undermine; and under pretence of amity, shroud their villany. These hold concurrencie with Frier Clement, Ravillac, Iaurequy, Baltazar Gerard. They have an open gate, but a shut countenance; or if an open countenance, a close shut heart. Aristotle saith, that friendship is one soule which ruleth two hearts, and one heart which dwelleth in two bodies. Whereas these men, whose acquaintance hath relation to their owne peculiar ends, have a heart and a heart; a Heart outwardly professing, and a Heart secretly practising; a Heart outward, and a Heart inward; outward∣ly pretending, and inwardly plotting. These are no Acquaintance for you Gentlemen▪ their Hearts are too farre from their mouths; learning to prosper by others errours. Yea, by often conversing and practising with others, no lesse cunning than themselves, they have so farre prevailed, as they are not onely able to match them, but out-strip them: Serpens nisi serpentem come∣derit, non fit Draco: These are they who hatch the Cockatrice egges; come not therefore neere them, for The poyson of Aspes is under their Lips. Yea, they sucke the gall of Aspes, and the Vipers tongue shall slay them. Yet, to leave you alone without company, would make your life as much loathed, as choice of Acquaintance makes you love it. He is a weake Prince that enjoyes an Empire without people; and no lesse desolate or disconsolate is his state, who wants not for meanes, yet wants a friend to whom hee may impart his minde. Lend me your hands therefore (Gentle∣men)

and I will direct you in a way how to make choice of Acquaintance in matters of Advice, which is the second benefit redounding from the use of Ac∣quaintance.

IF a man (saith Seneca) finde his friend sad and so leave him; sicke without ministring any comfort to him; and poore without releeving him: wee may thinke such an one goeth to jest rather than visit or comfort. Whence we may observe the office or condition of a friend, who, if his friend be sicke, he will visit him; i•• sad, hee will cheare him; if poore, hee will releeve him; if afflicted in minde, he will comfort him; other∣wise his friendship is but dissembling, his visiting him, a meere mocking of him. Iob called his friends Mise∣rable comforters, because their discourses were rather afflictions than comforts, their counsels rather cora∣sives than cordialls, their exhortations rather scour∣gings and scoffings, than soule-solacing refreshings. These doe not advise friends; but despise them; mi∣serable are such Comforters. Wherefore I may well distinguish Acquaintance into two sorts; the one Halcion-like, come to us in a storme; the other Swallow-like, draw neere us in a calme. The for∣mer sort observe Periandors precept, Shew thy selfe still the same, whether thy friend bee in prosperity or ad∣versity: but the latter observe that sentence of Optatus, All for the time, but nothing for the truth. All Ac∣quaintance may be either compared to pitch staining, o••to balme curing. Hee that toucheth pitch shall bee defiled therewith, saith the sonne of Sirach; such is the nature of much Acquaintance, especially in these lat∣ter dayes, where vanity is more affected, than the pra∣ctice of vertue, which should be onely loved. Where many returne worse than when they went forth, con∣firming

that sentence, Sanabimur, si separemur à coetu. But Balme, it refresheth, cheereth, and cureth; such is that Acquaintance, whose conceits are delightfull, discourse chearefull, and instructions fruitfull. These, if wee be at any time doubtfull, will advise us; if in ne∣cessitie, will releeve us; if in any affliction either out∣ward or inward, will beare a part with us, to allay griefe in us. A little Stybium is too much, such are the first; a great quantitie of Styrax is too little, such are the last. A Iuniper-tree maketh the hottest coale, and the coolest shadow of any tree: the coale is so hot, that if it be rak't up in ashes of the same, it continueth unex∣tinguished by the space of a whole yeere: so doth true friendship or faithfull Acquaintance; it affordeth the coolest shadow to refresh us, and the hottest coales, im∣plying fervour of affection, being once kindled, to warme us. When poore Andromache craved Vlysses ad∣vice, what he thought best to be done in behalfe of her young sonne Astyanax; Conceale him (said he) this is the only meanes to save him. This shewed his faithful∣nesse in advising, albeit her Countries foe; for other∣wise hee would have perswaded her to submit her selfe and him to the hand of the mercilesse souldier, or reape a benefit by their bondage, making them his owne Captives: As it is in the fable of the Crow, who com∣ming to the Eagle that had got a Cockle, the fish whereof he could not get out neither by force nor art, hee counselled him to mount up on high and throw the Cockle downe upon the stones, and so breake the shell: now all the while did the craftie Crow stay below expecting the fall: The Eagle throwes it downe, the shell is broken, the fish by the Crow is taken, and the Eagle deluded. Many such Counsellors there be, who advise not others for their good, but their owne good. Others there be, who make use of their friends or acquaintance meerely for

their owne ends; and rather than they will be pre∣vented of their aimes, they will expose the life and safetie of their friend to imminent perill. And these resemble the Fox, who seeing a Chestnut in the fire, made use of the Cats foot to take it out. But these are not those friends, whose advice is faith∣full, as their friendship is firme and gratefull. Their aimes are indirect, their advice tends to their owne benefit, their counsell tastes of profit, and their di∣rections become as pitfalls to their friends. Those to whom I would have Gentlemen knowne, are men of an other ranke and qualitie, appearing like the Canii, Se∣necae, Aruntii, and Sorani; whose admirable vertues were inimitable in so corrupt a government. Neither would I have them to shake off these friendly Monitors, if at any time their advice relish not halfe well to their pa∣late; but rather honour them for their vertuous sinceri∣tie, as Epaminonda•• honoured Lysias, Agesilaus Xeno∣phon, Scipio Penetius, Alcibiades Socrates, Achilles Phoenix, sent him by his father Peleus. For such as will not endure a friendly reproofe, I would have their Acquaintance doe with them as Plato did with Diony∣sius, who perceiving him to be incorrigible, left him. The rebukes of a friend are better than the kisses of an enemie; for the one, though at first displeasing, tend (if rightly used) to his conversion; but the other, though pleasing, tend (if not prevented) to his confu∣sion. Had Alexander understood this aright, he would have preferred the faithfull advice of his affectionate Clitus before all his conquests; for by his instruction might hee have learned Humilitie, which lesson had beene worth his worlds Monarchie. Had Nero that President of Tyrants, or Monster of men, given care to the wise advice of his loyall and learned Seneca, hee might have found a Subject to love him, a Scholer to live with him, a Souldier to fight for him, and a Mo∣ther

to blesse him. For surely, as of all possessions friendship is most precious, being suted with vertue, without which there is no true friendship; so are we to value the life of our friend as the crowne of our glory. For tell mee, are you fad? your friends conceit, as a so∣veraigne receit, will cheere you. Are you disposed to be merry? Mirth alone, is a single consort, your friend will partake with you. Would you have one to passe the tedious night away, in telling tales, or holding you with talke? your friend will invent a thousand pastimes to cheere you, and make the night seeme lesse tedious unto you. Is the burden of your griefes too heavy to beare? you have a friend to share with you in your burden. In briefe, want you comfort? he will supply it; want you meanes to releeve your wants? hee will afford it; want you counsell? he will impart it; want you all that man can want? you want not a friend who will supply your wants with his want. And so I de∣scend from the benefit redounding from Advice, to the third and last, which is the profit or benefit which re∣dounds from one friend to another in every peculiar action, exercise or recreation.

Cicero, the glory of Rome, and flower of Orators, exemplifying the prowesse of Themistocles and Epami∣nondas, useth these words;

The Sea shall sooner overwhelme the Isle it selfe of Salamine, than it shall drench the remembrance of the Salamine triumph: and the towne of Leuctra in Boeotia shall sooner be razed, than the remembrance of the field there fought, forgotten.

But howsoever these Monuments may be razed or defaced by continuance of time, sure I am that the love which they shewed to their friends, even to the apparent danger of their owne lives, shall eternize their memory. Pelopidas a noble Grecian, skir∣mishing with the Lacedemonians against the Arcadi∣ans, untill such time as being hurt in seven places, hee

fell downe at last for dead. Then presently Epaminon∣das, out of a princely resolution and noble affection to his distressed friend, stepping forth bestrid him, and fought to defend his body, he alone against many; till being sore cut on his arme with a sword, and thrust into the brest with a pike, he was even ready to give over. But at that very instant, Agesipolis King of the Lace∣demonians came with the other point of the battell in a happy houre, and saved both their lives when they were past all hope. Here see apparent arguments of true love, mixed with a noble and heroick temper: for friends are to be tried in extremities, either in matters of state or life: in state, by releeving their wants; in life, by engaging themselves to all extremes, rather than they will suffer their friend to perish. These are they who will latch the blow of affliction laid upon their friends, with the buckler of affection; preferring death before their friends disgrace. Marcus Servilius a vali∣ant Roman, who had fought three and twenty com∣bats of life and death in his owne person, and had al∣wayes slaine as many of his enemies as challenged him man to man; when as the people of Rome resisted Pau∣lus Aemilius triumph, stood up and made an Oration in his behalfe: in the midst whereof hee cast up his gowne, and shewed before them the infinite skars and cuts he had received upon his brest; the sight of which so prevailed with the people, that they all agreed in one, and granted Aemilius triumph. Here observe the tender respect of one friend towards anothers honour: there is nothing unassayed, nothing unattempted, which may procure or further it. For this friendship or combination of minds, as there is nothing more preci∣ous, so there is nothing which doth comparably de∣light or solace the minde like unto it, being faithfully grounded. Their discourse like some choice Musicke delights our hearing; their sight like some rare Object

contents our seeing; their presence fully satisfies us in their touching; their well-seasoned jests (like some de∣licious banquet) relish our tasting; and their precepts (like sweet flowers) refresh our smelling. Thus is every sense satisfied, by enjoying that which it loveth: for as senses wanting their proper objects, become uselesse; so men, whether in prosperitie or adversitie, wanting friends to relie on, are wretched and helplesse: So as there is no greater wildernesse than to be without true friends. For without friendship, societie is but meeting, acquaintance a formall or ceremoniall greeting. Wheras it is friendship, when a man can say to himselfe, I love this man without respect of utilitie: for (as I formerly noted) those are no friends but hirelings, who professe friendship only to gaine by it. Certainly, whosoever hath had the happinesse to enjoy a true & faithfull friend, to whom he might freely impart the secrets of his brest, or open the Cabbinet of his counsels, he (I say) and only he hath had the experience of so rare a benefit daily re∣dounding from the use of friendship: where two hearts are so individually united, as neither from other can well be severed. And as it is certaine, that in bodies inanimate, union strengthneth any naturall motion, and weakneth any violent motion; so amongst men, friend∣ship multiplieth joyes, and divideth griefs. It multiplies joyes; for it makes that joy communicative, which be∣fore was single; it divideth griefes; for it shares in them, and so makes them lesse. Now perfection of friendship, is but a speculation, if wee consider the many defects which are for most part subject to all worldly friendship: yea, and as the world increaseth in age, so it decreaseth most commonly in goodnesse: for in Courts, are suits and actions of Law; in Cities, tricks and de∣vices to circumvent; in the Country, ingrossing and re∣grating, of purpose to oppresse. It is rare to see a faith∣full Damon or a Pythias; a Pylades or Orestes; a Bitias

or a Pandarus; a Nisus or Euryalus. And what may be the cause of this, but that the love of every one is so great to himselfe, as he can finde no corner in his heart to lodge his friend in? In briefe, none can gaine friends, and make a saving bargaine of it, for now it is a rule commonly received;

He that to all will here be gratefull thought, Must give, accept, demand, much, little, nought.

So as it may seeme, it is not given to man to love and to be wise; because the Lover is ever blinded with affecti∣on towards his beloved; so as, he dis-esteemes honour, profit, yea life it selfe, so hee may gratifie his beloved. But my opinion is quite contrary; for I hold this as a firme and undoubted Maxime; that he who is not gi∣ven to love, cannot be wise. For is he wise, that reposeth such trust in his owne strength, as if he stood in no need of friends? Is he wise, who dependeth so much on his owne advice, as if all wit and wisdome were treasured in his braine? Is he wise, who being sicke, would not be visited; poore, and would not be succoured; afflicted, and would not be comforted; throwne downe, and would not be raised? Surely in the same case is he, who sleights the purchace of a friend, preferring his owne profit before so inestimable a prize. There is none, whe∣ther he be valiant, or a profest coward, but may stand in need of a friend in a corner. For be hee valiant, hee stands in need of a friend to second him; if a coward, he needs one to support him: Therefore, whosoever wan∣teth fortitude, whether it be in minde or bodie, let him embrace friendship; for if his weaknesse proceed from the minde, hee shall finde a choice receit in the breast of his friend, to strengthen and corroborate him, so as griefe may assaile or assault him, but it cannot dismay or amate him. Againe, if his weaknesse proceed from the bodie, that weaknesse is supplied by the strength of his friend, who will be an eye to direct him, and a foot

to sustaine him. Telephus, when he could finde none amongst his friends to cure his wound, permitted his enemie to doe it: and he who purposed to kill Prome∣theus the Thessalian, opened his impostume with his sword. If such effects have proceeded from enmitie, what rare and incredible effects may be imagined to take their beginning from amitie? Than which, as no∣thing is stricter in respect of the bond, so nothing is more continuate in respect of the time: being so firme, as not to be dissolved; so strict, as not to be anulled; so lasting, as never to be ended. Neither is this benefit, derived from friend to friend, onely restrained to mat∣ters of action or imployment, but extendeth it selfe to exercises of pleasure and recreation. For tell me, what delight can any one reape in his pleasure, wanting a friend to partake with him in his pleasure? Takes he de∣light in Hunting? let him choose Acquaintance that may suit him in it: not onely a Hunter, but one whose conceit (if occasion serve) can reach further; such an one I would have him as could make an Embleme of the Forest where hee raungeth, compose a Sonnet on the Objects which he seeth, and fit himselfe for ought hee undertaketh. Of which ranke, was that merry Epi∣grammatist, (as it may be imagined) who being taxed for wearing a horne, and could not wind it, made this replie;

My friend did tax me seriously one morne, That I should weare, yet could not wind, the horne; And I repli'd, that he for truth should finde it, Many did weare the Horne that nere could wind it: Hows'ere of all, that Man may weare it best, Who makes claime to it, as his ancient Crest.

To interveine conceits or some pleasant jests in our Re∣creations, whether discursive or active, is no lesse de∣lightfull than usefull: but these jests should be so sea∣soned, as they may neither taste of lightnesse, nor too

much saltnesse. Iests festive are oft-times offensive, they incline too much to levitie; jests civill (for into these two are all divided) are better relishing, because mixed with more sobrietie and discretion. Catullus an∣swer to Philippus the Atturney, was no lesse wittie than bitter: for Catullus and he being one day at high words together; Why barkest thou, quoth Philippus? Because I see a Theefe, answered Catullus. He shewed himselfe a quick Anatomist, who branched man into three parts, saying, That man had nothing but substance, soule, and bodie; Lawyers dispose of the substance, Physitians of the bodie, and Divines of the soule. Present and pregnant was Donato's answer to a young Gentleman, who be∣holding a brave company of amorous Ladies and Gen∣tlewomen, meeting Donato comming towards Rome, as one admiring their number and feature, said;

Quot coelum stellas, tot habet tua Roma puellas.

by and by answered Donato;

Pascua quot haedos, tot habet tua Roma-cinaedos.

Phaedro being asked, why in the Collects, where Christian Bishops and Pagans be prayed for, the Cardi∣nalls were not remembred? answered, they were inclu∣ded in that prayer, Oremus pro haereticis & schismaticis. Well requited was that young Scholler, who giving his Master this Evening salute: Domine magister, Deus det tibi bonum sero; was answered by his Master: Et ti∣bi malumcito. Wittie, but shrewd was that answer of a Disputant in my time to his Moderator in Posterior: who demanding of him what the cause should be, that he with whom he disputed, should have so great a head and so little wit, replied; Omne majus continet in se mi∣nus. A base minde was well displayed in that covetous man, who unwilling to sell his corne while it was at an high price, expecting ever when the Market would rise higher; when he saw it afterward fall, in despaire han∣ged himselfe upon a beame of his chamber; which his

man hearing, and making haste, cut the rope and pre∣served his life: afterwards, when he came to himselfe, hee would needs have his man to pay for the cord hee had cut. But I approve rather of such jests as are mixed with lesse extremes: pleasant was that answer of Sci∣pio Nasica, who going to Ennius house in Rome, and as∣king for Ennius; Ennius bade his maid tell him he was not within. So Ennius on a time comming to Scipio's house, and asking whether he was at home? I am not at home, answered Scipio: Ennius wondering thereat; Doe I not know that voice (quoth hee) to be Scipio's voice? Thou hast small civilitie in thee (answered Scipio) that when I beleeved thy maid thou wert not at home, yet thou wilt not beleeve me. Likewise to retort a jest, is an ar∣gument of a quicke wit; as Leo Emperour of Bizanti∣um answered one, who being crook-backt, jested at his bleared eyes; saying, Thou reprochest mee with the de∣fect of nature, and thou carriest Nemesis upon thy shoul∣ders. Domitius reproaching Crassus, that he wept for a Lamprey; Crassus answered, but thou hast buried three wives without one teare. Alexander asking a Pyrate, that was taken and brought before him; How he durst be so bold to infest the Seas with his pyracie? was answe∣red with no lesse spirit, That hee played the Pyrate but with one ship, but his Majestie with a huge navie. Which saying so pleased Alexander, that hee pardoned him: reaping especiall delight in that similitude of action, by which was transported the current of the Kings affecti∣on. Other Conceits there are more closely couched, co∣vertly carried, and in silence uttered; as that of Bias, who, when an evill man asked him what goodnesse was; answered nothing: and being demanded the cause of his silence; I am silent (quoth he) because thou enqui∣rest of that, which nothing concernes thee. The same Bias sailing on a time with some naughtie men, by violence of a tempest, the ship wherein they were, became so

shaken and tossed with waves, as these naughty men began to call upon the gods; Hold your peace (said Bias) lest these gods you call upon understand that you be here. But lest by dwelling too long upon jests, I forget the Series of my discourse, I will succinctly conclude this branch, with my judgement touching Acquaintance in this kinde. As I would have Gentlemen to make choice of their Acquaintance by their sound, so I would not have them all sound: Musicke doth well with ayres, but there is no Musicke in that discourse which is all ayre. My meaning is, I would not have these Ac∣quaintance which they make choice of, all words or flashes of wit: for I seldome see any of these who are so verball, much materiall; or these who are all wit, but through height of a selfe-conceit they fall to much weaknesse. For these many times preferre their con∣ceit before the hearers appetite, and will not sticke to lose their friend rather than their jest, which in my opinion is meere madness: for he that values his jest above his friend, over-values his conceit, and had need of few jests, or great store of friends. I have knowne some wits turne wittalls; by making themselves Buf∣founs and stale jesters for all assemblies. Which sort are fitter for Gentlemen to make use of as occasion serves, than to entertaine them as bosome-acquaintance: for as the benefit which redounds to one from ano∣ther in action, exercise, and recreation, is mutually im∣parted; so is the danger no lesse incident one to ano∣ther, where the ends or uses are perverted. Thus farre have we proceeded in the discovery of those par∣ticular benefits which redound from discourse, advice, and action, by meanes of Acquaintance: being the Cement which so firmely joyneth minds together, as they may be encountred by extremes, but divided ne∣ver. Now for as much as the essentiall triall of Ac∣quaintance consists in matters of highest consequence,

we are now to addresse our selves to such a choice, as our choice may admit no change.

THe precept of that ancient Sage is worth remem∣bring; Follow such friends as it may not shame thee to have chosen. Certainly, there is no one argument to evince man of indiscretion, more holding than this; That he makes no difference or distinction in the choice of his friends. In which respect, no man can bee too warie or circumspect, because herein for most part, consisteth his well-fare or undoing. It were meet therefore that a Gentleman made choice of such for his friends or acquaintance, as are neither Timists nor Ti∣monists, Fawners nor Frowners. For the first sort, they are for all seasons, and all weathers; so as they may be fitly compared to the Hedge-hogge, who hath two holes in his siedge, one toward the South, another to∣ward the North. Now when the Southerne wind blowes, he stops up that hole, and turnes him North∣ward; when the Northerne wind blowes, he stops up that hole likewise, and turnes him againe Southward. Such Vrchins are all temporizers: they turne as the wind blowes, and sute themselves for euery occasion. These friends or Acquaintance who follow not us but ours, will be seene in all Liveries: Princes have felt the inconveniencie of them, and inferiour States have not beene free from them: but the highest States generally are most subject to these retainers;

For Princes by experience we have seene, Abused most where most their trust hath beene.

Now there are two kinds of Princes (saith Comines) the one are so cautelous and suspitious, as they are scarce to bee endured: for they are almost come to that passe, as they thinke themselves ever deluded and cir∣cumvented. Such was Dionysius the tyrant of Syracu∣sa,

who grew so suspicious, as he would not trust any Barber to shave him, causing his owne daughters to learne to shave. Others there bee, who are so farre from harbouring suspicion, as being of a dull and lum∣pish wit, they scarce understand what is commodious for them, and what not. Such was Domitian, who cared more for catching of flies, than retaining of friends: being so farre from preventing danger, as he never fore∣saw it, till he felt it. In these there is small constancy of mind; for as they easily discontinue friendship, they as easily decline from hatred and embrace friendship. Constantine the great, being a profest foe to all these Timists, or temporizing Sycophants, was wont to call them Gnats and Moths that pester a Princes Palace. So aspiring be their aymes, so base their meanes;

Who like base Beetles as they have begun, In every Cowsheard nestle neere the Sun.

Whence, as it may bee probably gathered, was that sentence derived, Amici Curiae, Parasiti Curiae; faw∣ning rather than friending, tendring onely love where they hope to receive gaine. These, as they have Ianus front, for they carrie two faces under one hood, so have they Simons heart, professing love, but practising hate: of which sort the ever-living Homer thus con∣cludeth;

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

Theres nought on earth I more detest, Than sugred breath in Serpents brest.

Whence it was that the great spirited Byron, who shewed more passion than resolution at his death, howsoever during all his time none was ever held for a more brave or noble Souldier; perceiving his trust (as he collected) betrayed by La Fin, with whom he had conspired, and by whom his practice was disclosed, he confessed that La Fin had bewitched him, exhorting

his Hoast to be warie of him, lest he should delude and circumvent him with his impostures. For certainly, as more expresly appeared, not onely at the time of his execution, but in all the passages of his practice, as he had reposed great trust in La Fin, in the whole ma∣nagement of that businesse; so having seene his trust weakned, and those many protestations of amity infringed, (though in practices of that nature there can bee no true league of friendship) it moved him no lesse to impatience, than the discovery of his Treason. But these fawning friends or Timists which wee have now in quest, as they are onely for the present time, so will they undertake many times the most enormous and indirect course to raise their hopes, that can bee devised. When the rash-aspi∣ring Catiline had promised to divulge those new ta∣bles, wherein were contained the proscription of the rich, Magistracies, Priest-hoods, rapines, and all other insolencies, which either the shocke of warre, or will of the Conquerour gives way to; hee had followers enow upon the instant to second him in his hatefull courses: being such as either his youth had made him acquainted with, or his dissolute course had consorted with: which unhappy followers made him doubt∣lesse, more violent in his attempts, and lesse considerate in his directions. How needfull then is it, to prevent the occasion of so maine an inconvenience? How expe∣dient is it to avoid the frequent or society of such, as will not sticke to bee assistants in mischiefe? How con∣sequent a thing is it, to weane ones selfe not onely from their familiarity and inward acquaintance, but even from so much as conversing with them or writing to them. Themistocles was suspected to be knowne to Pausanias treason, although most cleare of himselfe, because he wrote unto him. For as the nature of man is originally depraved, so by consorting with vicious

men the arme of sinne becomes strengthened. The Ful∣ler (as it is in the fable) would by no meanes suffer the Collier to dwell with him under one roofe, lest hee should soile what he had rinsed. Which fable hath a morall relation to the course of our life, and the na∣ture of such as wee usually consort with: for there is a traffique or commerce as well of manners as persons, of vertues and vices, as other commodities. The Ba∣bylonian hath beene naturally said to be arrogant, the Theban passionate, the Iew envious, the Tyrian cove∣tous, the Sidonian a rioter, the Egyptian a sorcerer: neither did these nations keepe these vices to them∣selves, for they induced others likewise, to whom they had recourse and commerce, to be affected to the like: for the very Egyptians had so bewitched Caesar him∣selfe with their illusions, as hee gave great attention to them; as Alexander was delighted with the Brach∣manes. For Vice is such an over-growing or wilde∣spreading weed, as there is no soyle wherein it likes not, no kinde of nature (of what temper soever) it in∣vades not, and invading surprizeth not. To the Body, diseases are infectious, to the Minde are vices no lesse obnoxious: for vices are the diseases of the minde, as infirmities breed distempers and diseases to the Body. So as, whether wee observe the state of Church or Common-weale, we shall finde vices to bee of a nature no lesse spreading than diseases; neither the state or Symptome of the minde lesse endangered by the infu∣sion of the one, than the body by the infection of the other. For as the state Politicke is much weakned by the haunt of these vices, so is that mourning Dove the Church, many times afflicted to see herselfe torne with Schismes and divisions: where as Waspes make ho∣ney-combes, so Marcionists make Churches. How needfull then is it to divide our selves from the con∣sorts of vice, without entertaining the least occasion

that might induce us to give consent to her followers? Augustus wore ever about him, for preservative against thunder, a Seales skinne, which Plinie writes check∣eth lightning; as Tiberius wore alwayes about his necke a Wreath of Laurell. But let us carrie about us that Moli or herbe of grace, whose precious juyce may repell the spells of so inchanting a Syren. For as the Vnicornes horne being dipt in water, cleares and purifies it, so shall this soveraigne receit cure all those maladies, which originally proceed from the poyson of vice. The mind so long as it is evill affected, is mise∣rably infected. For so many evills, so many Devills, first tempting and tainting the soule with sinne, then tearing and tormenting her with the bitter sense of her guilt. Saint Basil saith, that passions rise up in a drunken man, like a swarme of Bees buzzing on every side; whatsoever that holy Father saith of one vice, may be generally spoken of all: so as wee may truly conclude with that Princely Prophet; They come about us like Bees: though they have honey in their thighs, they have stings in their tailes, wounding our poore soules even unto death. Requisite therefore is it to avoid the society of such whose lives are either touched or tain∣ted with any especiall Crime; these are dangerous Patternes to imitate, yea, dangerous to consort with; for as the Storke being taken in the company of the Cranes, was to undergoe like punishment with them, although she had scarce ever consented to feed with them; so be sure, if we accompany them, we shall have a share in their shame, though not in their sinne. Auoid the acquaintance of these Heires of shame, whose affe∣cted liberty hath brought them to become slaves to all sensuality, and sure ere long to inherit misery. Give no care to the Sycophant, whose sugred tongue and sub∣till traine are ever plotting your ruine; hate the em∣braces of all insinuating Sharkes, whose smoothnesse

will worke on your weaknesse; and follow the Poets advice:

Avoid such friends as feigne and fawne on thee, Like Scylla's rocke within Sicilian Sea.

So dangerous are these Syrenian friends, that like the Sicilian shelves, they menace shipwracke to the in∣considerate sailer. For these, as they professe love, and labour to purchase friends; so their practices are but how to deceive and entrap those to whom they pro∣fesse love. Whence it is that Salomon saith, A man that flattereth his Neighbour, spreadeth a net for his steps. That is, he that giveth eare to the flatterer, is in dan∣ger, as the bird is before the Fowler. Hee whistleth merrily, spreadeth his Nets cunningly, and hunteth after his prey greedily. And let this suffice to bee spo∣ken for the Timist, who professeth observance to his friend onely for his owne end.

Now Gentlemen, as I would not have you to enter∣taine time with fawnes, so neither with frownes. The former, as they were too light, so the latter are too heavy. The one too supple, the other too surlie. For these Timonists (for we have done with our Timists) as Ci∣cero said of Galba's leaden and lumpish body, His wit had an ill lodging, are of too sullen and earthy a consti∣tution. It is never faire weather with them, for they are ever louring, bearing a Calender of ill weather in their brow. These for the most part are Male-contents, and affect nothing lesse than what is generally plea∣sing: appearing in the world naturalized Demophons whose humour was to sweat still in the shadow, and snake in the Sunne. So as, howsoever they seeme sea∣ted in another Clime, for disposition they are like the Antipodes unto us, opposing themselves directly against us in all our courses. They are of Democritus mind, who said, that the truth of things lay hid in cer∣taine deepe mines or caves; and what are these but

their owne braines? For they imagine, there can be no truth, but what they professe. They proclaime defiance to the world, saying; Thou miserably deluded world, thou embracest pleasure, wee restraine it. Thou for pleasure doest all things, wee nothing. Now who would not imagine these Stoickes to be absolute men? Such as are rare to see on earth, in respect of their auste∣ritie of life, and singular command over their affecti∣ons? Such as are divided (as it were) from the thought of any earthly businesse, having their Mindes sphered in a higher Orbe? Such as are so farre from intermed∣ling in the world, as they dis-value him that intends himselfe to negotiate in the world? Such, as when they see a man given to pleasure, or some moderate Recrea∣tion, whereby he may be the better enabled for other imployments, sleight him as a Spender of time, and one unfit for the societie of men. Such, as say unto Laugh∣ter, Thou art mad; and unto joy, what meanest thou? Such as take up the words of that grave Censor in the Poet;

Tak'st thou delight to trace those pathes, where worldlings walked have, Which seldome doe refresh the Minde, but often doe deceive?

Yet behold, how many times these mens severity comes short of sinceritie! They will lay heavie bur∣dens on others shoulders, which they will be loth to touch with the tip of their finger. The Taskes which they impose on others are insupportable, the pressures they lay on themselves very easie and tolerable. Of this ranke was Aglataidas, of whom that noble and faithfull Historian Comines writeth, saying; While he served in the Campe he was of a most harsh and austere condition, doing many things perversly, and desiring rather to be feared than loved. Such was this Timon, from whose name wee entitle these frowning friends,

who can hardly be true friends to any, being so oppo∣site or repugnant to all, as they can scarcely hold con∣currence with any. Neither was this Timon (as Plu∣tarch reporteth of him) only harsh and uncivill towards men, but towards women also: so as going forth one day into his Orchard, and finding a woman hanging upon a wilde Fig-tree: O God (quoth he) that all trees brought forth such fruit! Vnfit therefore was this Timon for the Acquaintance of man, who profest himselfe so mortall and irreconciliable an enemie to the sociablest and entirest Acquaintance of man. So as, these Timo∣nists are to be cashiered for two reasons; first, for their owne harsh and rough condition; secondly, for the un∣just grounds of their opinion, which dissents so far from societie, as it disallowes of Marriage, the ordinary meanes appointed to preserve societie. So as, leaving them and their opinion, as alreadie evinced, wee will descend to make choice of your neerest Acquaintance, (I meane) the choice of your wife; the first day of which solemnitie promiseth either a succeeding Iubile, or a continued Scene of sorrow, where nought is sung but dolefull Lachrymae.

It was pleasantly spoken of him who said; Wives are young mens Mistresses; Companions for middle age; and old-mens Nurses. The first sort take as much con∣tent in wearing their mistresse favour, as winning it; the second sort in winning rather than wearing it; the third neither in wearing nor winning it, but like children, to be cherished and cockered by it. The second sort are we only to speake of, where wives are to be made companions, and such entire ones, as they are bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh. In the choice whereof, we will propose such necessary cautions, as shall be no lesse usefull to your selves, if rightly observed, than mo∣tives of comfort, if duly and exactly considered. He was reputed one of the wise men, that made answer

to the question; When a man should marry? A young man not yet, an elder man not at all. Of which opinion was Arminius that Ruler of Carthage, whose harsh conceit of mariage proceeding either from personall disabilitie, or some experience of womans levitie, de∣serves small approbation. For had it beene Arminius fortune to have matched with Arminia, hee would doubtlesse, rather have fallen into admiration of so sa∣cred a rite, than into distaste of it. For this Noble Lady, being bidden to King Cyrus wedding, went thither with her husband: at night when they were returned home, her husband asked of her, how shee liked the Bridegroome, whether shee thought him to be a faire and beautifull Prince or no? Truth (sayes she) I know not: for all the while I was forth, I cast mine eyes upon none other, but upon thy selfe. Or had Calanus preven∣ted Hiero of his choice, he would have fallen from his Stoicall dreame to a Nuptiall song; for one of Hiero's enemies reproching him with a stinking breath, hee went home and questioned his wife why shee told him not thereof; but what answer gave this continent La∣die? Surely (said she) I thought all men had the same sa∣vour. Or had Timon attained the happinesse to joyne hands with Theogena, wife to Agathocles, he had not inveighed so much against the state of Marriage; for this renowned Lady shewed admirable constancie in her husbands greatest misery, shewing her selfe most his owne, when hee was relinquis••t and forsaken of his owne, saying, That shee was not given him to be a sharer only in his prosperitie, but in what fortune soever should befall him. Or had Zenocrates enjoyed Zenobia, hee would no lesse have admired his fortune, than be∣shrewed himselfe for depriving himselfe so long of so sweet a Companion. For this princely Ladie, after the death of Odonatus (though a Barbarian Queene) yet by her reading of both Roman and Greeke Histories, so

managed the State after the decease of her husband, as shee retained those fierce and intractable people in her obedience: being a woman no lesse absolute for lear∣ning, than discreet governing: for she abridged the A∣lexandrian, and all the Orientall Histories, (a taske of no lesse difficultie than utilitie) whereby she attained the highest pitch of wisdome and authoritie. Or had A∣ristippus beene so happie as linked himselfe with Arte∣misia, he would have preferred so kinde and constant a yoke-fellow before all exteriour contemplations: for this chaste and choice Lady, after the death of her be∣loved Mausolus, thought it not sufficient to erect a glo∣rious monument in his memory, but to enshrine him in her owne bodie, by drinking his ashes, and interring him in herselfe. Many such eminent women may wee reade of in Histories both divine and humane, whose vertues have equalled, if not surpassed most men. So as, howsoever it was the Milesian Thales his saying, that he had cause to give Fortune thankes for three things especially; first, for that he was a man, and not a beast; secondly, that he was a man, and not a woman; thirdly, that he was a Greeke borne, and not a Barbarian: Wo∣men there be whose more noble endowments merit due admiration, because as in their sex weaker and inferi∣our, so in the gifts of the minde richer and superiour. But now to our Choice: for it is to be received as alrea∣die granted, being by the authoritie of an Apostle con∣firmed, that Mariage is honourable among all: and eve∣ry honourable thing is more eligible than that which is not honourable. So as he that shunneth Mariage, and avoideth societie, is to be esteemed a foe to huma∣nitie, or more than a man; as he whom Homer reprehen∣deth, saying: That he was tribe-lesse, law-lesse, and house∣lesse. I could wish every young Gentleman to make that Choice of his Mistresse, which Seneca would have one observe in the choice of a Master; Choose him for thy

Master (saith he) whom thou mayest more admire, see∣ing him, than hearing him. Neither altogether, as Eg∣natius in Catullus, is brought out shewing the white∣nesse of his teeth: for all outward perfections, are but as fuell to feed desire, without that inward faire, which onely maketh woman worthy loving. For what is a beautifull complexion, being an exteriour good; or that which Euryclea his nurse praised, when she washed the feet of Vlysses, namely, gentle speech, and tender flesh, wanting those inward graces, which truly adorne and beautifie women? So as it is much better to follow his direction in the choice of a wife, who said, that they were to be chosen a

Modestiá non formâ; which Mo∣destie cannot admit of this ages vanitie, where there nothing is lesse affected than what is comely. For, b these garish fashions agree well with none but prosti∣tutes and shamelesse women. c Neither can that face be a good one, which stands in need of these helpes. For d what madnesse is it to change the forme of nature, and seeke beautie from a Picture? e Which Picture is vi∣ces posture, and the ages imposture. f Neither doe these affected trumperies, nor exquisite vanities become a Christian. g For what is more vaine, than dying of the haire, painting of the face, laying out of breasts? h Doe not say that these can have shamefast mindes, who have such wandring and immodest eyes. i For the habit of the minde is to be discerned by the carriage: so as even in motion, gesture, and pace, is modestie to be observed. How miserable then is the state of these phantasticke Idols▪ who can endure no fashion that is comely, be∣cause it would not be observed? How base is her shape, which must borrow complexion from the shop? k How can shee weepe for her sinnes (saith S. Hierome) when her teares will make furrowes in her face? With what confidence doth she lift up her countenance to hea∣ven, which her maker acknowledges not? l I would, I

poore wretch (saith Tertullian) might see in that day of Christian exaltation, whether with Cerusse, and Ver∣million, and Saffron, and those tyres and toyes upon your head, you are to rise againe! which if they doe, they shall certainly witnesse against them

, m to re∣ceive the reward of their painting in a Lake of tormen∣ting. n For these are they who lay hands upon God, cor∣recting with a hand of contempt the workmanship of God. These never carry a box of ointment to bestow on the members of Christ, but a o box of complexion they have in readinesse to bestow on a cheeke. Which sort of Wantons (for how should I otherwise terme them) are well displayed by one in their colours after this manner;

pShee surely keepes her fault of Sex and Nation, And best alloweth still the last Translation: Much good time lost, shee rests her faces debter, Sh'as made it worse, striving to make it better.

This introduced ulcer, which is now esteemed no sore, because custome hath taken away the sense of a sore, how much it was abhorred formerly, may appeare by that command or constitution purposely exhibited to restrain it.q Doe not paint thy face which God hath made. But if our women would but consider how hatefull these abuses are in the sight of the Almightie, yea, how much they were loathed even of all honest women in former ages, they would distaste them, sure I am, farre more than they affect them.

For if we will credit Saint r Hierome, writing to Marcella, who saith; That those women were matter of scandall to Christian eyes, which painted their faces and eyes with Vermillion, and such like adulterate complexions. Yea he writes, That Ma∣ximilla Montanus his Prophetesse, a woman-devill, by command from him whom shee served, did use to paint. So Festus Pompeius saith, That common and base Whores, called Schoenicolae, used dawbing of them∣selves,

though with the vilest stuffe.

So did the Druids amongst the Romans, expresly shadowed by the Poet;

s Preserve what Nature gave you, nought's more base Than Belgian colour on a Roman face.

t So did our ancient Britaines, but not to make their faces more amiable, but to appeare more terrible to the enemie. Thus much, Gentlemen, I thought good to write, before you make your choice, that you may see who are worth loving before you make your choice. u There is one flower to be loved of women, a good red, which is shamefastnesse; Here make your choice, and you shall finde farre more content in a native than arti∣ficiall blush. For as Diogenes said to one that had a∣nointed his haire; x Take heed that thy smelling head bring thee not an ill-smelling life; so beware lest these perfumed Ones become not polluted Ones. For who∣soever shall use them, I cannot choose but suspect them▪ howsoever I have read of some that maintained the use of painting, grounded upon these ensuing respects;

y Such a cause there may be (saith one) that women may use painting, and without sinne: As for example, if it be done of purpose to cover any blemish or deformitie. Likewise, if the husband command that his wife should doe it, to the end that among other women shee might appeare more amiable.

Which opinion seemes likewise confirmed by another, who affirmes, z

That to receive more beautie by attire or painting, though it be a counterfeit worke, yet it is no mortall sin. So as Platina writeth, that Paulus Secundus, Bishop of Rome, used to paint himselfe.

Whom if Diogenes had seene, he would doubtlesse have said to him, as hee once said to a youth too curiously and effeminately drest:

If thou goest to men, all this is but in vaine; if unto women, it is wicked.

Wicked surely, it cannot choose, being (as it were) a reproving or reforming of the Almightie, whose workmanship is so absolute, as it

admits of no correction. Take heed therfore that you be not taken with one of these Idols, as Pigmalion was with his Image; but so direct your affections, as she may be worthy your embrace, whom you shall choose. Which that you may the better effect, follow the Sages advice in your choice: Match with your equall. If not in for∣tunes, for so both may prove beggers, at least in descent: so will she the better content her selfe with your estate, and conforme her the better to your meanes. For I have seldome seene any difference greater, arising from Marriage, than imparitie of birth or descent, where the wife will not sticke to twit her husband with her Parentage, and brave him with repetition of her descent. Likewise, as I would not have you to entertaine so maine a businesse without mature advice, so I would not have you wholly rely upon a friends counsell; but as you are to have the greatest Oare in the Boat, so to make your selfe your owne carver: for he that is enfor∣ced to his Choice, makes a dangerous bargaine. Where∣fore ground your Choice on Love, so shall you not choose but like; making this your conclusion;

To her in Hymens bands I'le nere be tide, Whom Love hath not espous'd and made my Bride.

For what miseries have ensued on enforced Mariages, there is no Age but may record: where rites enforced, made the hands no sooner joyned, than their minds di∣vorced, bidding adue to Content, even at that instant when those unhappie rites were solemnized. The next Observance in making your Choice, is matter of Porti∣on; a businesse not altogether to be neglected; for if she be a good wife, a good Portion makes her no worse: and if an ill one, she had need of a Portion to make her better. For he hath a hard bargaine that hath neither portion in a wife, nor out of a wife. We would account him a weake and simple man, that would enter bond without either consideration or securitie to keepe him

harmelesse. You are sure to be bound, be not so farre from consideration, as have nothing to shew for your selfe for your own security. I can commend his wit, who having made choice of a Proportion, moving enough to gaine affection, was not content so, but he must know further touching her Portion; that as her Proportion procured love, so her Portion might enable him how to live: like a quicke Epigrammatist he proceedeth thus;

I got a Portion and Proportion too, One got, the other I desir'd to know, Which knowne, though at that season I was free, A thousand pound cost me my Libertie. O foole (quoth my Alexis) to be bound To thraldomes yoke, to gaine a thousand pound! Content thee friend (said I) for wor'st thou what, I have beene bound for a lesse summe than that, Yet nere was Bankrupt, but if so I doubt To lose by th'bargaine, I will banke her out.

It is a true saying, Something hath some favour; where∣as he that neither gets good wife nor good portion, will make but a hard saver. For he that wants a wife to che∣rish him, had need of some money to cheere him. Ha∣ving now made choice of your wife, being so well dispo∣sed (as it is to be intended,) she should not be much re∣strained: for shee hath alreadie resolved to be no gad∣der, but in resemblance of the Snaile, a good House∣keeper. The Grecians accustomed to burne, before the doore of the new married, the axletree of that coach, wherein shee was brought to her husbands house, let∣ting her to understand, that she was ever after to dwell there. Which custome shee approveth, having made her family her common-weale, where she addresseth her selfe to governe without intermedling in others affaires. Neither is she only to be freed from restraint of liberty in going abroad, (for her occasions call her, or else she could be contented to be housed for ever:) but in her

desire of apparell, or any thing else that shee affecteth. For wheresoever Christ is, there is a shamefastnesse; like as wheresoever Antichrist is, there is b shamelesnesse. And this chosen vessell well understands that all garish and gorgeous attire, is the attire of sinne, which shee will not so much as partake with, having learned how that Modestie is the only ornament which beseemes a Matron. Wherefore, you should much wrong your Choice to restraine her from the use of any pleasure which she affecteth: for so well disposed is she, as shee affecteth no other pleasure than to converse with Ver∣tue, which she holdeth at a higher rate than to be pur∣chased with a masse of treasure. But admit it were your fortune to bestow your selfe on one, whose Licen∣tious affection might second Faustina's, whose pride Sempronia's, and whose shrewd tongue Zantippe's: you must make a vertue of a necessitie, and so learne to inure you to patience, as you may be able by continuall exercise to encounter and subdue the violentest passions. How wisely did Aurelius cover his Faustina's shame, labouring to reclaime by mildnesse, when he could not prevaile by bitternesse? How discreetly was Sempro∣nia's proud humour curbed, and with as little impati∣ence as might be reproved? How resolutely did So∣crates forbeare his wife Zantippe, though a froward woman, because he thought he might better and with more patience converse with others? For Marriage is no such merchandize, as to promise returne with advan∣tage to all factors. There is a ceremoniall custome used by the Duke of Venice upon the Ascension day, to goe in a vessell called the Bucentor, made Galley-wise, with other Nobles a mile or two into the Sea: casting a Ring into it, (by which ceremonie they wed the Sea) that it may never leave the Citie upon drie land. Certainly, whosoever he be that marrieth a wife, empledging his faith unto her by a Ring, must not thinke that he hath

brought his ship to a perpetuall harbour, but rather that he is now putting off from Land, and entring the maine Ocean, where he is to encounter with many violent blasts, contrary winds, surging waves, ebs and flowes, which will not end till his journey end. It were wis∣dome therefore to beare what we may not avoid: con∣sidering, that as the Marriage state is subject to many occurrences, so it is endowed with sundry excellent pri∣vileges,

as the gravitie of the state requireth: As in Rome, the Lex Iulia gave precedencie to him who had most children; and in Florence at this day, hee that is father of five children, straight-way upon the birth of the fifth, is exempted from all Imposts, Sub∣sidies, and Lones. Also here in England, a married man (out of a tender respect to his posterity) is not so soone prest into the wars as single-men or batchelors.

Wherefore, as the state is more honoured, so is more sobrietie and government in it required; bearing your selves patiently without bitternesse, and forbearing your wives for their sexes weaknesse.

Having thus farre discoursed of Acquaintance both at bed and boord; it were not amisse, if we set downe some especiall directions, which might better instruct you in the choice of them; which, as Protogenes seeing but a little line drawne in a Table, knew straight-waies it was Apelles doing, whom hee had never seene; shall upon first sight resolve you, that those friends, or Ac∣quaintance, to which these instructions shall direct you, are worthy loving and knowing. There is no one note more infallible of true friendship, than to expresse a faithfulnesse in misery: which faithfulnesse is ever found in these noble and generous Dispositions, who can say with Chylo, That in all their life-time they were never guiltie of Ingratitude. So as Nobilitie and Affabi∣litie hold for most part concurrencie: whence the Poet;

A Disposition towardly and good, Implyes a generous and a Noble blood.

These keepe continuall records of courtesies received; with a Catalogue of such friends as have at their hands worthily deserved. It is reported of Henry the fifth, that he never promised any thing, but he registred and set it downe with his owne hand. Such noble sparkes are these, who, as they receive acceptably, so they ren∣der backe bountifully, making no other benefit of A∣mitie, than as of a mutuall or reciprocall courtesie. Nei∣ther is it to be wondered at, that I should here make choice of Descent or Birth, as an especiall or infallible note of true and faithfull Amitie: for there is a naturall straine in all creatures, which they take from the pa∣rents that bred them;

Strong men from strong their native strength doe gather, Both Bull and Horse take spirit from their father.

It is a common saying amongst us, That a Gentleman will doe like a Gentleman; he scornes to doe unlike him∣selfe, for his word is his gage, and his promise such a tye as his reputation will not suffer him to dispence with. Men of this ranke, as they are readie to beare an equall share in their friends misery, so are they resolved with a spirit undanted, (if such be their chance) in their own persons to sustaine misery; for they esteeme no man so unhappie, as he that cannot beare unhappinesse. In Si∣cilia there is a fountaine called Fons Solis, out of which at mid-day, when the Sunne is neerest, floweth cold water; at mid-night when the Sunne is farthest off, flow∣eth hot water. Such fountaines are these firme friends, who, when the Sunne shineth hottest upon you, with the raies of prosperitie, will yeeld you cold water, no great comfort or succour, because you need it not: but when the Sunne is farthest off, and the darkest clouds which fortune can contract, sit heaviest on you, then they send forth hot water; they weepe with you, there

is hot water; they suffer with you, there is hot water; they cheere you drooping, comfort you sorrowing, sup∣port you languishing, and in your extremest fortunes are ever sharing. These crie with Theophrastus, What care we if this friend be rich, that friend poore, we are the same to either? Make choice therefore of these well bred Ones, for though some degenerate, most of them hold. Whereas, contrariwise, these who are of a base dung∣hill descent, it is seldome seene but they have some base and unworthy condition; being generally all for the time, but little for trust, or as Tops which alwayes run round, and never goe forward, unlesse they be whipt. Such a Neuter among the Romans was Tully, who could not resolve, whether he should take Caesars part or Pom∣peyes part. Among the Grecians was Tydides, who could not determine whether he should joyne himselfe with Achilles or Hector;

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Among the Persians was Nabarzanes, who seeing his Masters fortunes decline, laboured to joyne himselfe to him whose fortunes were in rising. Such were Tiberius friends, who shrunke from him, hearing with patience, Tiberium in Tiberim. And such were our Northerne Borderers, who have beene alwayes uncertaine friends in extremities, and assured enemies upon advantage. Of which it may be said, as was spoken of the Philosophers cloake, Pallium video, Philosophum non video: I see the cover of a friend, but no friend. For as nothing is more hatefull than a doubtfull and uncertaine man, who now draweth his foot backe, and now putteth it forward; so there is nothing more distastefull to any man, than these faire protesting friends, whose hollow and undermining hearts make a shew of faire weather abroad, when there is a tempest at home, comming towards you with their feet, but going from you with their hearts. In briefe, they are Danaus tubs, or running sieves that can

hold no water; leave them therefore to themselves, if you desire in safety to enjoy your selves. Now, to the end I may acquaint you likewise with the rest of such Motives to Love, as are powerfully working in the af∣fection of the minde; as we have touched the first Mo∣tive or inducement to Love, to wit, Parentage or de∣scent, which cannot so farre degenerate from it selfe, but it must of necessity shew it selfe: so it attracts other mo∣tives of love unto it, as Benevolence in rewarding; ex∣cellencie or admiration proceeding from the fame of such redoubted Hero's, as have their names charactred and ingraven in leaves of brasse, to preserve their me∣morie: as Salomon for his wisdome, whom, no doubt, Nicaula Queen of Saba had a desire to see & be known to, through report of his wisdome; so as her long jour∣ney seemed short, having understood that to be true with her owne eare, which shee had only heard of be∣fore by report. How much likewise was David affected for his Valour, in discomfiting the uncircumcised Phi∣listin? So was Alexander, whose report brought the Amazon Thalestris from her owne Countrey, of pur∣pose to be knowne to so invincible a spirit. So Hercules, Achilles, Dardanus, Diomedes, Scipio, Hannibal, Con∣stantine, &c. whose exploits purchased them Love to such as were never acquainted with their persons. Pardo∣ning likewise of injuries, is an excellent motive of Love. When Chylo's brother was angry that himselfe was not made Ephorus as well as he: O (quoth he) I know how to suffer injuries, so doest not thou! Though Diogenes the Cynick answered uncivilly to Alexander, when he came to his poore Mansion in Synope, his Philosophers Bar∣rell, yet hee replied unto his Satyricall speech with no indignation; but said to such of his attendants, as derided the boarish and exoticke speech of Diogenes, If I were not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes. The like instance may be confirmed by holy Writ: where

Miriam, for murmuring against Moses, was stricken with a lothsome Leprosie: he could not suffer this con∣digne punishment to be inflicted on her, but demanded of God that hee would cure her. Another motive to Love, is Hatred, where an ill occasion procureth among enemies a reconciliation. Herod and Pilat enemies be∣fore, were reconciled in combining their powers toge∣ther against Christ. Mastives, if set together, will fight till death, but in the presence of a Bull will joyne toge∣ther. Sometimes mutuall affliction procureth mutuall affection. Such resorted to David, as were persecuted by Saul, being such as were amaro animo. Where Sauls en∣mitie brought David to a triall of Hushai's faithfull a∣mitie; where hee found the words of Ecclesiasticus to be true, A faithfull friend is a strong defence; and hee that findeth such a one, findeth a treasure. For when wee are in the greatest straights, such an one sheweth the most strength: So as the Apostles words may be here veri∣fied, Strength is made perfect in weaknesse. Where one afflicted friend supporteth another, by joyning their strengths together. Another motive there is, procee∣ding from some especiall delivery from danger: for who will not esteeme him for a friend, who will expose him∣selfe to danger, to deliver his friend? Iudith entred Be∣thulia with Holofernes head, and by that meanes pre∣served her Countrey from ruine and desolation. Esther procured the death of Haman, repealed those severe and cruell lawes enacted, proclaimed, and even ready to be executed by Hamans suggestion, in the kingdome of the Medes and Persians; whereby she purchased eter∣nall honour, love and memory in her Countrey. The same love gained Moses for delivering the Israelites from the thraldome of Aegypt. The like may be said of Ioshua, Samson, Maccabeus, and many others frequent in holy Writ. The Romans so highly honoured and af∣fected such as protected their Countrey, and defended

her Libertie, as they bestowed no lesse style on them than Patres Patriae. Another motive there is, drawing one Enemie to love another, induced thereto in respect of Compassion, or some other princely vertue which he seeth in him. When Saul understood that David might have taken away his life, and would not, Levavit vo∣cem & flevit: his threats were changed into teares, and his passion into a teare-swolne admiration, to see his foe so full of compassion. We are induced likewise to love them that tell and confesse sincerely their offences; for an ingenuous acknowledgment of what is done, moves us to commiserate his case by whom it is done, yea quencheth all hate, as if a small sparke were drenched in the Sea. Likewise in the toleration of wrongs, wee are enforced to love him who suffereth them, and having power to revenge, will not out of the noblenesse of his spirit, doe what he may. To conclude, Bountie is a Motive to Love; for giving gifts gathereth friends: which Bountie is most worthy acceptance, when done with cheerefulnesse. Hilarem datorem diligit Deus. Thus have we traced over such Motives as generally induce or procure Love, Friendship, or Acquaintance; wherein observe the lesson of the Sonne of Sirach: De∣part from thine enemies, and beware of thy friends: for some man is a friend for his owne occasion, and will not a∣bide in the day of thy trouble. Now if you would un∣derstand, how a man may know a friend, you shall find him described, and by certaine infallible markes disco∣vered in the twelfth Chapter of the same booke. But alwayes, Beware (saith he) of deceitfull friends, lest fee∣ling the bitternesse of them, you finde the saying of the Prophet true: All the men of thy confederacie, have dri∣ven thee to the borders: the men that were at peace with thee, have deceived thee, and prevailed against thee: they that eat thy bread, have laid a wound under thee: there is none understanding in him. Make choice then of

him for your Acquaintance, whom you may worthily esteeme of as a second-selfe: so may you communicate your counsells freely, acquaint him with your griefes friendly, and share in comforts and afflictions fully. Thus much for the choice of Acquaintance; wherein I have the rather enlarged my discourse, because I know that as there is nothing more usefull to direction or in∣struction, than where good ones are elected; so there is nothing more hurtfull in the maine matter of disci∣pline or conversation, than where ill ones are affected and frequented.

MAny and singular were the commendations attri∣buted to Augustus, amongst which none more absolute than this: As none was more slow in entertaining, so none more firme of constant in retaining; which agrees well with that of the Sonne of Sirach: If thou gettest a friend, prove him first, and be not hastie to credit him. But having found him, we are to value him above great treasures: the reason is annexed: A faithfull friend is a strong defence, and hee that findeth such a one, findeth a treasure. This adviseth every one to be no lesse wary in his choice, than constant in the approvement of his choice; so as it rests now, that wee presse this point by reasons and authorities, illustrating by the one, and confirming by the other, how consequent a thing it is to shew our selves constant in the choice of our Acquain∣tance. There is no one thing more dangerous to the state of man, or more infallibly proving fatall, than lightnesse in entertaining many friends, and no lesse lightly cashiering those who are entertained. Which errour I have observed to have borne principall sway in our new-advanced Heires, whose onely ambition it is to be seene numerously attended, phantastically atti∣red, and in the height of their absurdities humoured.

These are they, who make choice of Acquaintance, on∣ly by outward habit, or which is worse, by roisting or russian behaviour: with whom that false Armory of yellow Bands, nittie Lockes, and braving Mouchato's have ever had choice acceptance. And herein, observe the misery of these depraved ones; who having made choice of these mis-spenders of time, and abusers of good gifts, they will more constantly adhere to them, than with better affected Consorts. Oh that young Gentlemen would but take heed from falling unwarily upon these shelves, who make shipwracke of their for∣tunes (the remaines of their fathers providence;) yea not only of their outward state, which were well to be prevented, lest misery or basenesse over-take them; but even of their good names, those precious odours which sweeten and relish the Pilgrimage of man! For what more hatefull than to consort with these companions of death, whose honour consists meerely in protests of Re∣putation, and whose onely military garbe is to tosse a Pipe is stead of a Pike, and to flie to their Tinderbox to give charge to their smoakie Ordnance, to blow up the shallow-laid foundation of that shaken fortresse of their decayed braine? These hot-liverd Salamanders are not for your company (Gentlemen) nor worthy your Acquaintance; for of all companions, those are the worthiest acceptance, who are so humble-minded and well affected, as they consort with others purpose∣ly to be bettered by them; or being knowing men, by their instructions to better them. That course which the ancient Vestalls observed, such usefull Companions as these have ever seconded. They first learned what to doe; secondly, they did what they had learned; third∣ly, they instructed others to doe as they had learned. Such as these were good Companions to Pray with, to Play with, to Converse or Commerce with. First, they are good to Pray with; for such as these only were they

who assembled together in one place, imploying their time religiously in prayers, supplications, and giving of thankes: and honouring him, whom all Powers and Principalities doe honour with divine Melodie: which was expressed not so much with the noise of the mouth, as with the joyfull note of the heart, nor with the sound of the lips, as with the soule-solacing motion of the spi∣rit, nor with the consonance of the voice, as with the con∣cordance of the will: For, as the precious stone Diacle∣tes, though it have many rare and excellent soveraign∣ties in it, yet it loseth them all, if it be put in a dead mans mouth: so Prayer, which is the onely pearle and jewell of a Christian, though it have many rare and exquisite vertues in it, yet it loseth them every one, if it be put in∣to a dead-mans mouth, or into a mans heart either, that is dead in sinne, and doth not knocke with a pure hand. So many rare presidents have former times afforded, all most inimitable in this kinde, as to make repetition of them, would crave an ample volume; we will therefore only touch some speciall ones, whose devotion hath de∣served a reverence in us towards them, and an imitation in us after them.

Nazianzen in his Epitaph for his sister Gorgonia, writeth, that shee was so given to Prayer, that her knees seemed to cleave to the earth, and to grow to the very ground, by reason of inces∣sancie or continuance in Prayer; so wholly was this Saint of God dedicated to devotion. Gregory in his Dialogues writeth, that his Aunt Trasilla being dead, was found to have her elbowes as hard as horne; which hardnesse shee got by leaning to a deske, at which shee used to pray; so continued was the devo∣tion of a zealous professour. Eusebius in his History writeth, that Iames the brother of our Lord, had knees as hard as Camels knees, benummed and be∣reaved of all sense and feeling, by reason of continuall kneeling in Prayer; so sweet was this Taske, under∣taken

for Gods honor, where practice made that an ex∣ercise or solace, which the sensual man maketh a toile or anguish.

Hierom in the life of Paul the Eremite wri∣teth, that he was found dead, kneeling upon his knees, holding up his hands, lifting up his eyes: so that the very dead corps seemed yet to live, and by a kinde of zealous and religious gesture to pray still unto God.

So transported or rather intraunced was the spirit of this lovely Dove, as even in death he expressed the practice of his life. These followed Augustines rule in their forme of Prayer: Seeke (saith he) what you seeke, but seeke not where you seeke. Seeke Christ, that's a good what. Seeke what you seeke; but seeke him not in bed, that is an ill where. But seeke not where you seeke: Moses found Christ not in a soft bed, but in a bramble bush. For as we cannot goe to heaven on beds of downe, no more can those devotions pierce heaven which are made on beds of downe. Albeit, every place is good, for as no place is freed from occasion of sin, so no place should be free from Prayer, which breaketh downe the Partition-wall of our sinne. But certainly those downie Prayers taste too much of the flesh, to relish well of the spirit; for as he is a delicate Master, who, when his belly is full, disputeth of fasting; so he is a sensuall Prayer, who in his bed only, addresseth himselfe to de∣votion. Neither are these only good companions to pray with, but also to play with; I meane to recreate and re∣fresh our mindes with, when at any time pressed or sur∣charged either with cares of this world, or in our dis∣continuance from more worthy and glorious Medita∣tions of the world to come: for as in the former we are usually plunged, so by the latter wee are commonly enfeebled, at least wearied, if by some Recreations, to entertaine and allay the tediousnesse of more wearie houres, we be not refreshed and solaced. Now in our choice of Acquaintance, as like requireth like, so are we

to sort our selves to an equality both in degree and con∣dition. When some of Alexanders companions de∣manded of him, if he would runne a race with them; Willingly, (said he) if there were Kings to runne withall. For this parity breeds affection, and an equalitie of minds in any recreation: while neither respect to an inferiour ranke begets contempt, nor an eye to superio∣rity begetteth feare. Besides, as there is an equality of degree, so is there an equalitie of mind concurring with that degree. There is no pleasure affected by one, which is not entertained with free approbation by another: for in all their jestings, sportings, and delightfull mee∣tings, they are provided of a disposition, equally tem∣pered to give a jest, and take a jest: having ever in mind that common English proverbe, Play with me, but hurt me not; jest with me, but shame me not. For their sports, as they are harmelesse without guile, so their conceits are pleasant without gall. There is neither saltnesse in the one, nor harshnesse in the other. Neither doe these make sport or pastime a vocation, as if they were borne to nothing else than Play: for these delights of theirs, which are ever moderate, and therefore truly seasoned, they make use of, as Physitians of sugar-plates, which they minister to their patients, to take away the taste of a more bitter potion. It is worth observing, to note the excellent use which these men make of Recreation. They can use it with such temperance, as they can command the pleasure which they use, and not be commanded by it.

Their only pleasure is to contemne pleasure, yea even to dis-esteeme it in their height of pleasure: nei∣ther, because pleasure delighteth, doth it please them, but because it pleaseth, it doth delight them. It is the excellent'st office of some mens vertue to perswade the use of pleasure, recounting at their Table creatures of all sorts, with which by how much more they are filled, by so much more their appetites remaine unsa∣tisfied.

Briefly, whereas their discretion hath subjected appetite to reason, in gaming they play without desire of g••ining; in Recreations of the Body, their aime is to refresh and renue Nature, without any desire of ma∣stery; in their solemne feasts, they feed without surset∣ting; in their May-games, they are merry without ex∣ceeding; in their flashes or encounters of wit, they are pregnant, present, and pleasant without offending. Those are most fruitfull and fertile in rendering fruit (saith the Philosopher) which partake most of cold and moist: which position intendeth the conceptive part; but my assertion reacheth further; for I conclude, such as these being equally tempered, to be most copious in the principall workes or faculties of the understanding, being three; first to discourse▪ second to distinguish, third to choose. For the first whereof, it resteth that we now proceed in proofe, concluding; These not to be only the best Companions to pray or play with (as wee have for∣merly proved) but to converse, or commerce with, as we shall hereafter make manifest. Megabizes esteemed Alexander as a Prince, whiles he stood in his Schoole and said nothing; but when he began to talke of things which he knew not, he said unto him, That even his lit∣tle children would laugh him to scorne. This speech of Megabizes proceeded (as may be imagined) from some words uttered, or reasons alleaged by Alexander, which relished little of Philosophie, being a Studie to which a Souldier is for most part a stranger. But these men, whom we now have in hand, and whom we have made choice of, as fit companions to converse and com∣merce with, are men of such singular discretion, as they wil preferre silence before discovery of their ignorance. These know for what end or purpose the bars and gates of the lips and teeth (like a double ward) were ordained to limit or restraine the Tongue. These observe, how man hath two eyes to see with, two nosthrills to breathe

with, two hands to labour with, two feet to walke with, but one Tongue to talk with; implying, that one Tongue requires as much government as any two members of all the body. Neither only is their Speech wisely silen∣ced, but when delivered, discreetly seasoned. Seasoned with mildnesse and affabilitie, without the least expres∣sion of roughnesse or austeritie.

Where two meeke men meet together, their conference (saith Bernard) is sweet and profitable; where one man is meeke, it is pro∣fitable; where neither, it proves pernicious.

Neither in mildnesse and affabilitie onely, but in the highest pitch of wisdome, is their discourse seated. Whence it was (as I have heretofore noted) that Aristotle deba∣ting of the convenience and proprietie of discourse be∣fore Alexander;

maintained, that none were to bee admitted to speake, but either those that managed his warres, or his Philosophers which governed his house.

Which wisdome of discourse hath beene for∣merly so much affected, as Plutarch reporteth that Pla∣to came forth of Asia into Cilicia, for no other cause but onely to see his deare friend Phocion the Philoso∣pher, and to converse with him. This caused Nica••la▪ the Queene of Saba, to travell from her owne Country to Iudea, to heare the wisdome of Salomon: yea, peruse those Athenian Nights in Gellius, how and in what ex∣cellent manner, with what varietie of discourse, pro∣priety of conference, strength of arguments those Win∣ter-nights were bestowed, and you shall finde there fit companions for Schollers, Souldiers, and all Generous professours. Neither are they consorts only fit to con∣verse with, but to commerce with also; for these are no bankrupt merchants, or desperate factors, who use to dispence with conscience and credit, rather than in a conscionable sort discharge their credit. So as, how so∣ever the Sonne of Sirach may seeme to conclude, There be two things, which me thinke to be hard and perillous; A

Merchant cannot lightly keepe him from wrong, and a Victualler is not without sinne. So well and equally are the ships of these good merchants ballased, as rather than they will make shipwracke of a good conscience, or runne their reputation upon the shelfe of disgrace, they will suffer the worst of extremes. These are none of those, who make sale of deceitfull commodities, to enrich their seldom thriving progenie with impostures. These are none of those trifling Mountebankes, who draw on customers with faire protests, and shew strange experiments upon their sophisticated oyles, to delude the ignorant. These are none of our inconsiderate Fa∣ctors, who make exchange of English money with Indi∣an trifles, enriching forraine countries with our trea∣sures, and fooling our own with their feathers. These are none of our Sea-sharkes, who under pretence of mer∣chandize, exercise piracie; bearing the world in hand that they befriend us, when they practise all hostilitie against us. These are none of our dangerous Spies, who pretending they come to trade or commerce with us, arrive purposely to note what strength is amongst us. No, these are Factors of better temper and more hone∣stie, hating deceit, though that might enrich them; scorning the Mountebankes trade, though that might draw customers to them; discarding all inconsiderate Factors, who give money for feathers, though in fooling others, they might gaine by them; cashiering all Sea-sharkes, who by piraticall practices, use to support them; excluding all dangerous Spies, who to discover others weaknes, purposely embark them. In briefe, would you have their character? They can discourse of novelties without affectation, impart their minds freely with∣out dissimulation, valuing no losse so great, as the ha∣zard of their reputation. These are those friends which deserve your choice and acceptance; These are they, who, as upon good grounds you have made choice of,

so should you bee constant in your choice. For you are not to be so light in the choice of your Acquain∣tance, as in the choice of your fashion; where every giddie head sorts himselfe to what is newest, not what is neatest; for so should you be ever choosing, and farre from constancie in choosing. Rather having got a friend and proved him, first in matters of small weight, and af∣terwards in affaires of greater consequence; labour by all meanes to retaine him, for you have found a treasure: Forsake not this old friend, for the new is not comparable unto him. You have got a friend, proved and tried him to be no ambitious man, for ambition is fearfull, and for the least crosse of fortune will forsake true friendship. You have got a friend, proved and tried him to be no covetous man, for covetousnesse selleth fellowship, faith and ho∣nesty; to conclude, you have got a friend, who will not by glozing deceive you; by ayming at his owne private ends, entrap you; by hunting after popular praise, dis∣value you; or by consorting wich Politicke heads, en∣danger you. Keepe him then, and be constant in your choice, holding him so firmely knit unto you, as if hee were individually united to your selfe; for a friend, (provided that he be such an one as we have charactred him) is a second-selfe, and therefore as impossible to be divided from you, as you from your selfe. And may this suffice to be spoken touching constancie in the choice of Acquaintance, wherein as we ought to be circum∣spect in our choice, so ought we to be constant, having had proofe of the faithfulnesse of our choice.

THere is nothing which argues more indiscretion, than an aptnesse of discovering our selves; so as, we are advised in getting a friend, to prove him first, and not to be hasty to credit him. For albeit, the precept may seem generall, The secrets of our friend we may not discover;

which is confirmed by the Sonne of S••rach, Who so dis∣covereth secrets, loseth his credit, and findeth no friend after his will. Yet, how many are there, who either through unfaithfulnesse, as they will not, have brought their friends to extremest hazard? Yea, not onely our common friends, but even those who sleep in our owne bosome; as Dalilah plaid with Samson, either simply or subtilly will discover our secret'st counsells to our ene∣mie: so as, we may take up the complaint of Samson, which he made in the discovery of his Riddle: If he had not plowed with our Heifer, he had not found out our Rid∣dle. Had not that woman by the River of Sorek, that subtill Dalilah, betrayed his trust, how invincible had Samson remained, no lesse powerfull to his friends, than fearfull to his enemies? Whence we may gather, how dangerous it is to discover the secrets of our heart, even to those to whom we have engaged our heart: for wee ought not to give our friend power over us. This is se∣conded by a divine precept: Give not thy son and wife, thy brother and friend, power over thee while thou livest; and give not away thy substance to another, les•• it repent thee, and thou intreat for the same againe. Whence wee are advised to a two-fold reservancie; first in concealing our secrets; secondly, in retaining our substance. For the first, he explaines himselfe more fully in the ensuing verse; As long as thou livest, and hast breath, give not thy selfe over to any person. For the second, he gives a rea∣son in the end of the former verse; Give not away thy substance to another, lest it repent thee, and thou intreat for the same againe. Of which two parts, and the Re∣servancie which we are to observe in either, my purpose is briefly and plainly to intreat; and first of the first, to wit, Reservancie of secrets, wherein I will be as briefe as the qualitie of the Subject will suffer me.

It is said of Geese, that, when at the change of seasons, they passe from Cilicia, over the mountaine Taurus,

which abounds with Eagles; they carry stones in their bills, for feare their crie should discover them to their enemies. Reason should teach us that, which Nature hath instructed them, lest by diverting from the rule of reason, we become inferiour to them, who never had the use of reason. For there is nothing which detracts more from the glory of man, than by too prodigall a discovery of himselfe, to lay himselfe open to the trust of another: so as it may be positively averred, There is nothing that betrayeth a man so much to ruine, as his owne credulitie. Dionysius gave straight commandement, the head of Brias, one of the Gentlemen of his Cham∣ber, should be cut off, for telling Plato, who had de∣manded of him what the Tyrant did, That he had strip∣ped himselfe by reason of the heat, and was painting in a Ta∣ble. So tender were Princes of the discovery of their actions, even in affaires of indifferencie. Let us imitate therefore that Grecian of former times, who being told that his breath did smell, answered, It was by reason of the many Secrets, which had a long while laine rotting, and put••ifying within him. Let our bosome (the recluse of Secrets) be like the Lions den in the Apologue; to∣wards the mouth whereof, the prints and prickings of sundry sorts of beasts, might easily be discerned, Sed nulla retrorsum, but from thence none at all. Let us al∣wayes talke with Harpocrates, at the signe of the finger on the mouth; and learne of Anacharsis, that the tongue hath need of more strong restraint than Nature. Let us not be too curious, with them of Bethshemesh, in the search of other mens Secrets, nor yet too carelesse with Hezekiah, in the discovery of our own. Morality giveth us a prohibition for the one, and a precept for the other;

Seeke not to know that Secrecie thy friend reserved hath, But keepe what's tender'd to thy trust, though drunke with wine and wrath.

And indeed it is a prophanation of dutie to publish any thing we should not; and too much insinuation to winde our selves in the privacie of others Secrets, which make knowne we ought not. Those things therefore, which are to be concealed, let us conceale them, Vt curia Martis Athenis, as close as either silence or darknesse will afford us meanes to keepe them, both from eye and eare: for the better effecting whereof, there is necessa∣rily required in every one a wise distrust, and slownesse of beleefe, wherewith the brest must so equally be bal∣lanced, that he may steddily run on, without suffering shipwracke in such a doubtfull and dangerous course. It hath beene ever held a singular argument of policie, to have an open face, but a shut heart; to give entertain∣ment with a free and affable countenance, but with a wise and discreet reservancie of our counsells, to pre∣vent the occasion of giving our friend power over us. Yea, but it may be objected, it may sometimes fall out, that a friend cannot performe the office of a friend, but by discovering the secret purpose or practice of another: For how could faithfull Ionathan advertise David of Sauls wicked purpose against him, but by discovering what Saul in secret had imparted to him? How could he (I say) have advertised David of his fathers fury, by shooting three arrowes, but by discovering what his fa∣ther had secretly intended against him? To which ob∣jection it may be thus answered; That, as amongst evill men there can be no true friendship continued, so neither are the Secrets of such men, tending ever to mis∣chiefe and effusion of innocent bloud, to be concealed, but by all meanes should be discovered, that such tragi∣call issues might be prevented. Yea, but it may be a∣gaine objected, that admit this were so, may wee not impart our griefes to a friend, or communicate our coun∣sells to one, whom we have made triall of to be trustie and faithfull? To which I answer, that wee may, but

with this provision, that we never unrip our bosome so farre, as to give our friend power over us, in matters which may either concerne life, state, or name. For though your experience of the trust of such a friend hath beene long, and those affaires wherein you have im∣ployed him, of serious consequence: we have knowne many Comicall beginnings, have a Tragicall Catastro∣phe; many promising mornings turne to duskie after∣noones; many faire glozing friends recoile (like the Bat in the fable) and become either Neuters, or profest ene∣mies. So as, it was wisely answered by that learned Sage to one who demanded of him, what hee thought to be the hardest thing in the world; To keepe Counsell, quoth he. We say, it is good sleeping in a whole skin; but how can our sleepes be quiet, our rest from terrours freed, when wee have lost our libertie by commit∣ting our Secrets to others trust? Yea, but friendship, be∣ing one soule ruling two hearts, or one heart dwelling in two bodies, loseth her prerogative, if excluded from partaking in her friends griefes or comforts: for would you thinke it well, that your friend should finde you sad, and so leave you; sick, without ministring any com∣fort to you; or poore, without releeving you? Surely, you could not chuse but thinke such an one commeth to jest, rather than to visit or comfort you. Now, how should he comfort you, who is wholly ignorant of the cause of your discomfort; or how minister any receits to you, when he knowes not what distempers you; or how releeve you, when he knowes not of any povertie that hath befallen you? Whereto I answer, that these are not to be numbred among those Secrets which wee hold unfitting to bee imparted or discovered, by one friend to another; for the discovery of these may pro∣fit, but cannot prejudice us. Whereas, the disclosing of such Secrets as concerne our name, may afterwards brand us with infamie; or such as concerne our state,

may bring us to povertie; or such as concerne our life, may weave our unhappie webbe in a fearfull tragedy. Therefore it is good counsell, not to give our friend power over us, but with a circumspect eye to take heed whom we entertaine as a friend; and of what nature those Secrets are, which we impart to that friend. When that unhappie Emperour Commodus had communica∣ted his secret'st thoughts to Martia, his best affected Concubine; and withall, how his purpose was, before many dayes were ended, to dispatch Laetus and Electus, two of his Senators: Shee perceiving how the world went, and that the Emperour was no lesse inconstant in his love, than illimited in his lust, discovered to the Se∣nators what the Prince had intended against them; which to prevent, with one consent they resolved to dispatch the Emperour, and so rid them of all occasion of feare. Farre more hatefull was that act of Bessus and Nabarzanes, in discovering the counsels of their unfor∣tunate Prince Darius; which discovery, though it de∣posed their Prince of Crowne, and deprived him of life, rewarded those disloyall Traytors with a deserved end. Should we but take a view of the doublenesse and deceitfulnesse of friends, whose only aymes are, for most part, to take advantage of our opennesse, wee should find, though there be some Hushaies, or faithfull friends, so there be some false Brethren, who secretly (under pre∣tence of amitie) will labour to undermine us. For if we be great, we shall have some to ply our veine, soothing us with the height of our place, the eminence of our state, our easie accesse to a higher step, if we will take hold of occasion; and with these are young-men, whose unripened judgements never attained to the discovery of persons, chiefly pleased, and to these are their secret'st thoughts ever imparted; on these are they wholly plan∣ted, and in these is their principall trust reposed: yet loe, they trust in broken staves of reed, on which if they

leane, they will goe thorow their hand and pierce it. Againe, are we rising to greatnesse, and in the first Spring of promotion? We shall find these chattering Swallowes ever flying about us, pretending friendship and secrecie in our counsels; but misery attends us, if we entertaine them. To be briefe, are we rich? If we have discovered any Secret to them, which may prejudice us being re∣vealed, wee shall be sure to have that Secret vented, if our hollow coun••ellour be not rewarded. Are we poore? though our state need not feare undoing, our Secrets must be discovered, if the meanest may be gratified by the discovery. Thus no Ranke may be exempted, no degree freed from prejudice, where counsels are disclo∣sed. Indeed sometimes it happeneth, that a friend dis∣covers the secrets of a friend; because, out of the just∣nesse of himselfe, and the integritie of his owne consci∣ence, which no respect will suffer him to violate, hee cannot endure the sinister or indirect practice of his friend, and therefore discovers it to give meanes of pre∣vention to the innocent. Which may be instanced in the •• ••ount of Melin his confession, who lying upon his death-bed here in England, disclosed the purpose of King Lewis his Master, to the chiefe Peeres and Barons of the Realme; who considering the inevitable danger into which they were falling, by giving free entrie to the French King, wisely in time (and but in time) ex∣pulsed him, receiving their unhappie deposed King, to avoid an ensuing mischiefe. Now the occasion of this discovery, though it be divers wayes conjectured, yet the probablest in my opinion is, to refer it to the com∣passion which Count Melin had of the English Nation, whose state had beene, to the judgement of all men, grievously shaken, had Lewis, as he was already arri∣ved, beene peaceably possessed of the same. Now to conclude this point, I hold that English proverbe wor∣thie our remembrance, in affaires of Secrecie: One may

keepe counsell, but two cannot: implying, that it is the sa∣fest and surest course to be a mans owne Secretary, so shall ••e not give his friend power over him, but sleepe quietly without feare of discovery, having none but his owne brest to betray him to his enemie.

The second thing, which, as we formerly noted, re∣quireth a Reservancie in us towards our Acquain∣tance, is a respect to our Substance; which should nei∣ther be lashed out lavishly, nor hoorded up niggardly. And herein I have observed a great vanitie in young Gentlemen, who are no sooner mounted in their fathers saddle, or made heires of his providence, than upon pur∣chase of Acquaintance, (which a young master cannot want) he begins to squander his revenues upon gifts, to feed his thirstie followers: but see the issue of these bountifull Novices, they change their Acres into pee∣ces, and so peece-meale divide them, till they fall all in∣to peeces, and have not one peece to cover them. So as, it is true which the Poet hath observed;

The Prodigall and foole gives what he scornes and hates, And with his state makes other men to glory in their states.

Wherefore the lesson is good, and well deserveth our observation, which is given to us by the Son of Sirach: that not only to our friends, Acquaintance, or the like, but even to our children, whose naturall respect to their Parents, should binde them to be gratefull, we should not be too forward in distributing our Substance, con∣cluding thus: For better it is that thy children should pray unto thee, than that thou shouldest looke up to the hands of thy children. If we be advised to use this Reservancie to our owne, even those whose naturall affection will enforce bountie at the Parents hand, much more to our Acquaintance, whose pretended semblances, or out∣ward protestations many times tend rather by fawning

to feed on us, than by true profession of friendship to bestead us. Oh Gentlemen, how many through too easie a hold have exposed themselves, as a prey to the avaritious desires of their followers; where many times it falleth out, that the servant is able to purchase his ma∣ster, having enriched himselfe by feeding his humour! Yet see the unthankfulnesse of many of these; having made them a garment of their masters shreads, and rai∣sed themselves to a great estate by his prodigalitie, they can learne to put on a scornefull countenance towards their landlesse master, entertaine him with contempt, forget his bountie, and ascribe all to their owne thri∣ving providence, which proceeded meerely from his profusenesse. So well can these thriving Timists, who raise their fortunes from their masters ruines, shape themselves to all times, that they may profit by all meanes. There are Acquaintance likewise, whose aimes as they extend only to themselves, so they will use any indirect course, how irregular soever, to bring their pur∣pose about. And of these, we had a late example, even in our owne Countrey, and within the walls of this flourishing Citie: which example, that it might re∣maine to the memory of succeeding times, for the bene∣fit whereof, as well as of these present, our labours should be addressed, I thought good here to set downe. There was a young Gentleman, whose profuser course having consumed much of his meanes, was enforced, upon some present extremities urging him, to make a morgage of a peece of land, which peece was the ve∣ry last which he had left him: the money being lent and spent, and now the un-foreseene day of payment approaching, the young Gentleman driven to an exi∣gent, made recourse by chance, to an ancient Ac∣quaintance of his, by trade a Chandler, who was a mo∣nied man, and could finde a friend in a corner, who upon a commodious bargaine would at any time be∣stead

him of a good Summe. Hee, the Chandler I meane, noting what benefit the Morgage of the young Gentlemans land might be unto him, if he re∣deemed his estate, which now lay a bleeding, and tooke the Morgage into his owne hand, concluded with the Gentleman, and releeved his present wants, proposing a certaine day for redemption of the said Morgage: which was kindly accepted of by the Gen∣tleman, little thinking how he fell from the fire into the flame, and by avoiding Charybdis, had fallen into Scylla. The time now drew neere, which was limitted the Gentleman to redeeme the premises: whence a double care or feare ensued; a feare and provident care in the Gentleman of procuring money to redeeme it; a feare in the Chandler, lest it should be redeemed, and so the hopes he had of so beneficiall a bargaine frustrated. Which to prevent, (marke the impiety of the age even in this one example) the Chandler a∣gainst the day limitted and prefixed, repaires to a consort of opportunate Agents for his purpose; As∣sacinates fleshed in all mischiefe, and ready to em∣brace any motion, or engage themselves in any acti∣on, which might minister fuell to their riot. And these he acquaints (as it seemes their Acquaintance was ancient) how he knew of a rich Bootie for them, if they had hearts to attempt, and resolutions to effect, what their present wants enforced them to attempt. They desirous to heare of that booty, promising him reward if their purpose came to effect, pressed him (as little pressing needed to such a base instrument) that he would discover, where this bootie might be pur∣chased. He imparted his minde freely, and told them that such a Gentleman (being the same who had made a Morgage of his land unto him) was to come provided of a great Summe of money, upon such a day, and by such a place, as gave opportunitie for

the attempt, which they might easily obtaine, having none but himselfe and his man to resist them. They, at the first seemed jealous of him, imagining it was some fetch meerely to intrap and circumvent them; but being more confident upon his protestations, that his purpose was to benefit them, not to betray them; they generally consented to this plot, provided that they might have his company, not onely to direct them, but share and partake with them: whereto the Chandler condescended, choosing rather to be an assistant in the practice, than prevented of his pur∣pose. To be short, vizards and disguises were provi∣ded, and all things fitted, that such an attempt might be furthered: where, by direction of their Leader, they tooke their stand, where the unfortunate Gen∣tleman was to passe; who, within some few houres after, came according to their expectance, provided of a Summe purposely to redeeme his estate (the last remainder of his fortunes) out of the hands of the Chandler. But he is intercepted and bid stand, whose present occasions admit no stay: and in briefe, strip∣ped of all his money, and bound, he and his man, and throwne into a gravell-pit, where wee leave them: and returne to this perfidious Chandler, who ex∣pecting to be a sharer as well in the stake, as in the forfeiture of his estate, is by his wittie Copesmates used after another sort than hee looked for; being bound hand and foot, and throwne into a ditch ad∣joyning; where he remained, till a Shepherds boy having occasion to come that way, hearing one piti∣ously mourning, drew neere to the place where hee heard the voice; but seeing onelye there bound in an ugly vizard, and disguised after an uncoth manner, as one afraid, he run from him, albeit the Chandler humbly intreated him, to lend his helping hand to loose him. The noise which the Chandler made, de∣siring

aid from the Shepherd, and the Shepherd de∣nying aid to the Chandler, was now come to the care of the afflicted Gentleman, and his man: wherefore they sent out their complaint, as men pitifully distres∣sed; which the Shepherd hearing, came forth with to the place where they lay bound, and seeing the Gen∣tleman, and his man, lent them his helping hand, and delivered them from their bonds: directing them withall, to the Pit where the Chandler his treache∣rous Acquaintance lay, whom hee knew by his dis∣guise to be one of those, who had taken his money from him: but having pulled off his vizard, and per∣ceived him to be none but the Chandler, his professed friend▪ you may imagine what diversitie of perplexed thoughts encountred him; but suspecting the worst, which after proved the truest, hee caused him to be brought before a Iustice, where he was examined touching the premises, which, to his shame hee con∣fessed, discovering himselfe to be both Actour and Authour of that perfidious complot. For which, being committed, and legally tried, he was adjudged according to his desert, to receive the condigne pu∣nishment of death. Whose goods being confiscate, our late Prince of renowned memory, out of his roy∣all compassion to the Gentlemans estate, allotted so much in his princely bounty, as redeemed his en∣gaged lands, repossessing him thereof to his great joy, and an example to succeeding ages, not to repose too much confidence in the profession of Acquaintance. Many examples of like sort (though this may seeme im∣parallel) might be here produced, but I cannot insist upon this point. What hath beene herein discoursed, principally tendeth to this end and purpose, to deterre young Gentlemen from discovering themselves too o∣penly to these glozing and temporizing Acquaintance, whose onely ayme is to benefit themselves by their

weaknesse, and make their prodigality the only foun∣dation of their providence. Whence it is, that many times they become enrichers of their retinue, but beg∣gerers of their posterity. And which is of all others most miserable, those, whose Sponges they were, and had squeased them of all their fortunes, will contemp∣tuously demeane themselves towards them, and un∣thankfully sleight them, who by impoverishing their owne meanes, have enriched them; whose natures in the person of one especiall ungratefull man, are to life expressed by the Poet;

Ragg'd rockes him bred, brute beasts him fed, No thankefulnesse can enter His seared Brest, or sealed Chest, which is of flintie temper.

And let this suffice to be spoken of Reservancie to∣wards Acquaintance, both in respect of our secrecie of counsell; lest by discovering our selves either upon con∣fidence of anothers trust, or transported with passion, (the end whereof is the beginning of repentance) wee give out friend power over us, and so by too credulous trust bewray our owne weaknesse: or in respect of our Substance; by a prodigall bountie to our friends and followers, without respect had of our meanes, and so make our followers our masters. So as, it is right wholesome counsell, which that wise Sonne of Sirach gave, and which wee formerly alleaged, but cannot be too often renewed; Give not away thy Substance to an∣other, lest it repent thee, and thou intreat for the same againe: concluding with this excellent precept; Be not excessive toward any, and without discretion doe nothing. Now excuse me, Gentlemen, if I have insisted longer on these two points, than the qualitie of the Subject we have in hand, might seeme to require: for I am not ig∣norant how many of your ranke have unfortunately fallen on these two dangerous shelves, either, I meane,

by too open a discovery of themselves, or by too pro∣digall a hand in giving, what they may afterwards stand in need of to releeve themselves. But of these we shall have occasion to speake more amply in our dis∣course of Moderation; meane time, let this lesson be ever imprinted in the Tablet of your memory: Im∣part your Minde, but not your Secrets; give where you see desert, but with such Reservance, as it may neither repent you to have given, having extended your bountie to such as are thankfull; nor grieve you to have discovered your selves, having imparted your minde to such as are faithfull.

IT is a maxime in Philosophie: Whatsoever is, it is for some end: so as all our counsels, and consultations, businesses and negotiations, have ever an eye or ayme to some speciall end, to which they are properly dire∣cted. For as we see in Elementary bodies, every one by naturall motion tendeth to their owne proper center, as light bodies upward, heavie ones downward, being places wherein they are properly said to rest or repose: even so in Arts and Sciences, or the proper Objects to which they are directed, and wherein they are peculi∣arly said to be conversant, there is ever a certaine end proposed, to which, and in which their aymes are limi∣ted or confined. Whence it is, that excellent Morall saith, That every Task, Labour or Imployment must have reference and respect to some end: which the Poet con∣firmeth, saying;

All things which are, must have a proper end, To which by course of Nature, they doe tend.

So as in my opinion, there is nothing which proceeds in a course more contrary to Nature, than Suits of Law, whose Object is end without end; consuming time and substance in frivolous delayes, and multiplicitie of Or∣ders,

which like Hydra's heads, by lopping off or an∣nulling one, gives way to decreeing of another. Now to enter into discourse of the absolute end of Acquain∣tance, we are as well to reprove the indirect ends, which some make of it, as approve of those good and absolute ends for which it was ordained. Wherefore to come unto the point, we are to understand that Acquaintance is nothing else but a familiar friendship, or friendly fami∣liaritie, which we have one with another. Now there is nothing which doth comparably delight the minde, like a faithfull friendship; being, as the Stagyrian Phi∣losopher well defineth it; One soule which ruleth two hearts, and one heart which dwelleth in two bodies. So as, of all possessions friendship is most precious, where we are to make no other estimate of our friends life, than of our owne glory: a friend being nothing else than a se∣cond selfe, and therefore as individuate as man from himselfe. How much then is this sweet union or com∣munion of mindes abused, when friendship is only made a stale of, professing love and familiaritie only for our owne ends? And where shall we come, where this a∣buse of friendship and sociable Acquaintance is not pra∣ctised? In the Court we shall finde smooth and sweet∣sented friends, who make friendship a complement, and vow themselves ours in Protests, Congies, and Salutes: but whereto tend they, but to winde us in, and so be∣come engaged for them? For it stands with reason, thinke they, as wee are familiar with them in comple∣ments of courtesie, so they should be familiar with vs in the Mercers booke. Too precious are these mens Ac∣quaintance, and too heavie their engagements; let us therefore turne from them, and travell towards the Ci∣tie. And what shall we finde there, but many dange∣rous and subtill friends, who like politique Trades∣men, having heard of our estates, and how we are come to yeares to dispose of them, will professe themselves

to be our Countrey-men, in which respect wee cannot chuse, but make bold with them and their commodities rather than any stranger? Yet it is strange to see how strangely and unconscionably they will use us, making ever their commodities vendible with protestations, and binding them upon us with termes of courtesie. We must then needs conclude, that these men tender friend∣ship but onely for their owne ends. We are therefore to seeke further, and descend to the Countrey, where wee are likest to finde them. Yet see, the generall infection of this Age! We shall finde there, even where simplici∣tie and plaine dealing used ever to keepe home, great monied men, who to enrich their seldome-prospering Heirs, will offer us any courtesie, and to shew they love us, they will lend us, to support our state, and main∣taine our riot: but observe their aymes; in feeding us, they feed on us; in succouring us, they soake us; for ha∣ving made a prey of us, they leave us. Likewise, wee shall finde there, many Summer-Swallowes, and finde that Sentence in them verified; Though one Swallow make no Summer, yet one mans Summer makes many Swallowes. Where then shall we finde them? Surely in all these places which we have traced: for in the Court, we shall finde friends no lesse compleat than comple∣mentall; in the Citie, friends no lesse trustie than sub∣stantiall; and in the Countrey, friends no lesse faithfull than reall. Notwithstanding, we are taught to beware of our friends; and the reason is this, for that some man 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a friend for his owne occasion, and will not abide in the day of trouble. Having now made choice of such friends and Acquaintance, as may seeme to deserve both our know∣ledge and acceptance, wee are to respect the ayme or end to which all friendship and Acquaintance may truly and properly be referred. Which (as we former∣ly observed) is not onely matter of gaine or worldly profit, as these Brokers and sellers of amitie esteeme it:

for, as much friendship may be found in Cheape amongst the Huxters, or in Smith-field with the Horse-coupers, as these professe. But rather, how we may benefit the inward man by a friendly conversation one with ano∣ther. For which cause (as we have else-where noted) came Plato forth of Asia into Cilicia to see and con∣verse with his deare friend Phocion, Nicaula the rich Saban Queene, to visit Salomon; Brutus the sincere Roman, to converse with Vtican. These, though Pagans, so highly valued knowledge, as their ayme was to en∣tertaine friendship with knowing-men, purposely to in∣crease, at least preserve their knowledge. For Learning, which is the producer of knowledge, hath ever had such exquisite and admirable effects, as it hath gained due and deserved esteeme, not only in respect of opini∣on, but title and honourable approbation.

So as, Na∣than Citraeus writeth, that in Prage, an Vniversity of Bohemia, where Iohn Hus, and Hierom of Prag•• pro∣fessed, that, they that have continued professours for the space of twentie yeers together, are created Earles and Dukes both together. And therefore their style is to be called Illustres, whereas they which are sing∣ly and simply but only either Earles or Dukes, are called Spectabiles. Neither maketh it any matter that they have no revenewes, to maintaine Earledomes or Dukedomes: for they have the title notwithstanding, even as Suffragans have of Bishops.

This esteeme of Learning was no lesse effectually expressed by one, who encountring with a Scholler, who through necessity was enforced to turne begger, cryed out;

A Scholler and a Begger too! The Age is blinde doth plainly show.

Yet how contemptible Riches (that worldlings Idoll) hath ever beene to these, whose conceits were not en∣gaged to pelfe, nor their affections to desire of having, may appeare by the admirable contempt of divers Pa∣gans

towards riches, preferring a voluntarie povertie before all worldly possessions. This might be instanced in Anacharsis, who refused the treasure sent him by Croesus; in Anacreontes, who refused the treasure sent him by Polycrates; and Albionus, who refused the trea∣sure sent him by Antigonus. The like indifferencie to∣wards riches, appeared in the admirable and inimitable patience of Zeno, who hearing all his substance to be drowned by shipwracke upon the Sea; Fortune (quoth he) bids me to addresse my selfe to Philosophie more spee∣dily. The like in Mimus, who threw his goods into the Sea, saying; Packe hence yee evills, for yee were hin∣derances to me in my pursuit after better goods; it is bet∣ter for me to drowne you, than be drowned by you. Whence it was that Demetrius was wont to say, That nothing could be more vnhappie than that man, to whom no adver∣sitie ever happened: for that opinion, even amongst the Ethnicks hath been generally held for most authentick, That nothing can be truly said to be good or evill, but a good or evill minde. Now whereas we have sufficiently proved, that no true friendship can be but only amongst good men, (I meane morally or civilly good) and that ayme in the profession of friendship or Acquaintance, is either to better them, or be bettered by them: wee are in like sort to make this our ayme or supreme end, that having made choice of such whose eminent parts deserve our respect and acceptance, wee are to imploy our time in conversing and conferring with them, the better to enable us in imployments publike or private. Neither is this only the absolute ayme or end of friend∣ship, for so we should inferre that our acception or in∣tertainment of friends had reference only to our owne private ends, without relation to him with whom wee have entred the lists of Acquaintance. We are therefore to have an eye to these especiall offices of friendship, be∣ing such as deserve our observation and imitation, if so

be wee deserve the name or title of friends. First is, if wee see our friend doubtfull or unresolved, to advise him; if afflicted, to comfort him; if sicke or restrained, to visit him; if weake in estate or impoverished, to re∣leeve him; if injured, to labour by all meanes to right him; and in all things to be helpfull to him, supplying his necessitie by apparent testimonies of our approved amitie. It is reported, that on a time, Duke Godwin bringing up a service to Edward the Confessors Ta∣ble, he chanced to slip with one of his feet, but to re∣cover himselfe with the other; whereupon presently he used these words in the Kings hearing; One bro∣ther supports another. O (quoth the King) so might I have said too, if Godwin had not beene! meaning, that he was the cause of his brothers death, whose life was a staffe to his state, but his fall a weakning to his feet. Certainly, every faithfull friend should be as a Brother, or as in a naturall body one member ministers aid and succour to another; where the head cannot say to the foot, I have no need of thee, nor the foot to the hand, but every one in their distinct and mutuall offices are ready to execute their severall duties: So, I say, should friends and Acquaintance be one to another; not in preying or feeding one upon another, as if all were fish that came to net, for this were to make no difference or distinction betwixt friend or foe, but for some intendment of pri∣vate benefit to dissolve the strict bond of friendship. Whereas a friend, being indeed a mans second selfe, or rather an individuate companion to himselfe, (for there is one soule which ruleth two hearts, and one heart which dwelleth in two bodies) should be valued above the rate of any outward good, being such a happinesse, as he giveth a relish to the dayes of our pilgrimage, which otherwise would seeme like a wildernesse: for the world, as it is both to be loved and hated; loved, as it is the worke of the Creator; hated, as the instru∣ment

of temptation unto sinne; ministers some few houres of delight to the weary pilgrim, by the company and socie••ie of friends, recou••se and concourse of Ac∣quaintance, without which comfort, how tedious and grievous would these few yeeres of our desolate pilgri∣mage appeare? How highly then are wee to value the possession of a good friend, who partakes with us in our comforts and discomforts, in the frownes and fawnes of fortune, shewing himselfe the same both in our weale and woe? It is written of Sylla, that never any did more good to his friends, or more harme to his ene∣mies. Which princely courtesie to his friends could not chuse but increase them, howsoever his extreme cour∣ses towards his enemies might seeme rather to inrage than appease them. For as remembrance of benefits argues a noble nature, so forgetting of injuries (having in the meane time power to revenge) implies a bravely resolved temper. Whence it was, that Themistocles, when Symmachus told him, hee would teach him the art of memory, answered, hee had rather learne the art of forgetfulnesse; saying, hee could remember enough, but many things he could not forget, which were necessary to be forgotten. As the over-weening conceit of himselfe, indignities done him by his foes, opposition in the quest of honour, and the like; all which a great minde could hardly brooke, being so illimited as he can ad∣mit of no corrivall in his pursuit of honour. But to de∣scend to the greatest benefit which proceeds from friendship, Commerce and Acquaintance: we shall finde how miserable the state and condition of this flourish∣ing Iland had beene, whose Halcyon dayes have attai∣ned that prerogative of peace, which most parts of Christendome are at this day deprived of; had not the friendly compassion, and devout zeale of sundry lear∣ned and faithfull instruments of Christ, delivered her from that palpable blindnesse and Heathenish Idolatrie

under which she was long detained captive. S. Ierome in the end of his Dialogue against the Pelagians wri∣teth thus: Vntill the very comming of Christ, (sayes he) the Province of Britaine, which hath beene oftentimes governed by Tyrants, and the Scottish people, and all the Nations round about the Ocean Sea, were utterly ignorant of Moses and the Prophets. So that then, by the testimonie of S. Ierome, all our Religion was super∣stition, all our Church-service was Idolatrie, all our Priests were Painims, all our gods were Idols. And to appropriate to every Nation their peculiar god, there was then in Scotland the Temple of Mars; in Cornwall the Temple of Mercurie; in Bangor in Wales, the Tem∣ple of Minerva; in b Malden in Essex, the Temple of c Victoria; in Bath, the Temple of Apollo; in Leycester, the Temple of Ianus; in Yorke, where Peters is now, the Temple of d Bellona; in London, where Pauls is now, the Temple of e Diana. Therefore it is very likely, that they esteemed as highly then of the God∣desse Diana in London, as they did in Ephesus; and that as they cried there, Great is Diana of the Ephesians, so they cried here, being deluded with the same spirit, Great is Diana of the Londoners. Even no more than 53. yeeres before the incarnation of Christ, when Iulius Caesar came out of France into England, so absurd, sense∣lesse and stupid were the people of this Land, that in¦stead of the true and ever-living Lord, they served these Heathenish and abominable Idols, Mars, Mer∣curie, Minerva, Victoria, Apollo, Ianus, Bellona, Diana, and such like. And not long after, to wit, Anno Christi 180. King Lucius being first Christened himselfe, forth∣with established Religion in this whole Kingdome. But thankes, thankes be to God, in the time of the New Testament, three and fifty yeeres after the incarnation of Christ, when Ioseph of Arimathea came out of France into England, many in this Realme of blinde and

ignorant Pagans, became very zealous and sincere Chri∣stians. For Saint Philip the Apostle, after he had prea∣ched the Gospell throughout all France, at length sent Ioseph of Arimathea hither into England: Who, when he had converted very many to the Faith, died in this Land, and he that buried the body of Christ, was bu∣ried in f Glastenbury himselfe. Also Simon Zelotes, ano∣ther Apostle, after he had preached the Gospel thorow∣out all Mauritania, at length came over into England: who, when he had declared likewise to us the doctrine of Christ crucified, was in the end crucified himselfe, and buried here in g Britaine. About this time h Aristo∣bulus, one of the seventie Disciples, whom Saint Paul mentioneth in his Epistle to the Romans, was a reve∣rend and renowned Bishop in this Land. Also Claudia a noble English Ladie, whom Saint Paul mentioneth in his second Epistle to Timothy, was here amongst us a fa∣mous professour of the faith. Since which time, though the civill state hath beene often turned up-side downe by the Romans, by the Saxons, by the Danes, by the Normans, yet the Gospell of Christ hath never ut∣terly failed or beene taken from us. This the holy Fa∣thers of the Church, which have lived in the ages next ensuing, doe declare. Tertullian, who lived Anno 200. writeth thus; i All the coasts of Spaine, and divers parts of France, and many places of Britaine, which the Ro∣mans could never subdue with their sword, Christ hath subdued with his word. Origen, who lived Anno 260. writeth thus; k Did the Ile of Britaine before the com∣ming of Christ, ever acknowledge the faith of one God? No; but yet now, all that Countrey singeth joyfully unto the Lord. Constantine the Great, the glory of all the Emperours, borne here in England, and of English bloud, who lived Anno 306. writeth in an Epistle thus; l Whatsoever custome is of force in all the Churches of Aegypt, Spaine, France, and Britaine, looke that the

same be like wise ratified among you. Saint Chrysostome, who lived An. 405. writeth thus; m In all places where∣soever you goe into any Church, whether it be of the Moores, or of the Persians, or even of the very Iles of Britaine, you may heare Iohn Baptist preaching. Saint Ierome, who lived Anno 420. writeth thus; n The French-men, the English-men, they of Africa, they of Persia, and all barbarous Nations worship one Christ, and observe one rule of religion. Theodoret, who lived Anno 450. writeth thus; o The blessed Apostles have induced English-men, the Danes, the Saxons, in one word, all people and countries, to embrace the doctrine of Christ. Gregory the Great, who lived An. 605. wri∣teth thus; p Who can sufficiently expresse, how glad all the faithfull are, for that the English-men have forsaken the darknesse of their errours, and have againe received the light of the Gospell? Beda, who lived Anno 730. writeth thus; q England at this present is inhabited by English-men, Britaines, Scots, Picts, and Romans, all which though they speake severall tongues, yet they professe but one faith. Thus you see, how the Gospell of Christ, having beene first planted in this Land, by Ioseph of Arimathea, and Simon Zelotes (in whose time Aristobulus and Claudia, and not long after King Lu∣cius also lived) hath ever since continued amongst us; as testifieth Tertullian, Origen, Constantine the Great, A∣thanasius, Chrysostome, Ierome, Theodoret, Gregory, Be∣da, and many more, which might here have beene al∣leaged.

Now, how singular and exquisite a benefit have our Progenitours received, by meanes of these faithfu••l pro∣fessours of the Gospell, and first planters of the Christi∣an faith here in this Iland? What a miserable famine of the Word had the people of this Land sustained, if these faithfull friends and sincere Witnesses of the truth, had not loosed from the shore, and embarked themselves in

danger, to deliver them from the danger of soules ship∣wracke? In which danger, we likewise had beene sha∣rers, had not this so rich a fraught, so inestimable a prize rescued us from danger, and directed our feet in the way of peace. The story of Theseus includes an excellent Morall; whose love to his deare friend Perithous, the Poet labouring to expresse, shewes how he went downe to hell, of purpose to deliver his friend from the thral∣dom of Pluto, under whom he remained captive. Which without offence or derogation, may properly seeme to allude, (next to that inimitable mirrour of divine ami∣tie) to these noble and heavenly Warriours, who de∣scended (as it were) even to the jawes of hell, encoun∣tring with the insolent affronts of many barbarous As∣sassinates, readie to practise all hostilitie upon them. Yet see their undanted spirits! their godly care inflamed with the zeale of devotion, and their love to the mem∣bers of Christ, kindled with the coale of brotherly compassion, made them as readie to endure, as those hellish fiends and furies, the enemies of the truth, were ready to inflict; choosing rather to perish in the bodie, than to suffer the poorest soule, bought with so high a price, to be deprived of the hope of glory. These were good and kinde friends, being such as would not sticke to lay downe their lives for their friends; suffering all things with patience and puissance of minde, to free their distressed brethren from the servile yoke of hellish slavery, and bring them by meanes of Gods Spirit, by which they were directed, to the knowledge of the all∣seeing veritie. Such as these professe not friendship under pretences or glozing semblances, making their heart a stranger to their tongue, or walking invisible, as if they had found the stone in the Lapwings nest; but as they are, so they appeare, affecting nothing but what is sin∣cerely good, and by the best approved. Their absolute ayme or end of friendship is to improve, reprove, correct,

reforme, and conforme the whole Image of that man with whom they converse, to his similitude whom all men represent. If at any time they enter into discourse, it ever tends to fruitfull instruction; if at any time they enter into serious meditation of the world, their medi∣tation is not how to purchase estate, or fish after honour, or build a foundation on oppression, to enrich their po∣steritie with the fruits of their injurious dealing. No, they have the testimony of a good conscience within them, which testifies for them, should the world and all her Complices bandie against them. Wherefore, admit they should be put to all extremities, and suffer all the indig∣nities which envie or malice could dart upon them, the weight of every injury is to be measured by the sense or feeling of the sufferer; for the apprehension of the Suf∣ferer makes the injury offered, great or little; if he con∣ceit it small or no injury, howsoever others esteeme it, the burden of the wrong is light, and therefore more easily sleights it.

Now Gentlemen, we have traced over the whole pro∣gresse of Acquaintance, wherein if haply it be thought, that we have sojourned too long, my answer is; that in passages of greatest danger, there is required more cir∣cumspection, than rashly to goe on without due delibe∣ration. And what occurrent in all the passage or pilgri∣mage of man, is beset with more danger than the choice of Acquaintance; especially to you Gentlemen, whose meanes is the Adamant of Acquaintance? Wee have therefore insisted the longer upon this Subject, that you may be the lesse subject to such, who will winde them in with you, of purpose to feed and prey on you. To cure which maladie, no receit more soveraigne, than to imprint in your memory that golden rule or princely precept, recommended by that pious and puissant Saint Lewis to his sonne Philip, in these words: Have especi∣all care that those men, whose Acquaintance and familia∣ritie

you shall use, be honest and sincere, whether they be Religious or Secular; with whom you may converse friend∣ly, and communicate your counsells freely; but by all means avoid the company of naughtie and wicked men: whose societie ever tends to inordinate respects. Take these Cautions therefore as the last, but not least worthy your observation. Be not too rash in the choice of your Acquaintance, for that shewes weaknesse; Nor inconstant to those you have chosen, for that argues lightnesse; Nor too forward in the discovery of your counsells, for so you might be taxed of too much o∣pennesse; ever ayming at that absolute end of Ac∣quaintance, to profit more and more in the pra∣ctice of goodnesse. So shall God bee your Guide, good men your friends, and your Country where you had education, receive much glory from your life and conver∣sation.

Notes

• Observat. 6.
• Of the use of Acquain∣tance.
• Cu••. Dentatus apud Senecam de tranq. anim.
• Mark. 1.35. Act. 6.9. Prov. 1.20.
• Deut. 14.16, 17.
• ☞
• a

  Bern. de vita solitaria.
• b

  Honores Mun∣di, tumores Mundi. Eucher. Epist. Par••ne de con∣tempt. mundi.
• c

  Omnis seculi honor, Di••boli est negotium. Hil. can. 3. in Matth.
• Quaeremus unum bonum in quo sunt omnia bona & sufficit. Aug. Med.
• Greg. Diligenti Deum sufficit ei placere q••em diligit, quia nulla major ex∣petenda est remu∣neratio quàm ip∣sa d••ectio.

  ••eo Magnus. Serm. 7. dejeju∣nio.
• Mat. 4.1.3. Psal. 63.4. 1 Tim. 2 8, Iob 7.1.
• Bernard. in 4 lib. de consid. ad Eu∣gen.

  In codem l••b c. 4
• Peri••lita••ur ca∣stitas in delaiis, humi••••tas in di∣vit••••s, pietas in negotio, veritas in ••••ultiloquio, charitas in hoc nequam saecu∣lo. 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• Gen. 1.18.
• ☞
• Afranius.

  Of the benefit we reape by Acquaintance in matters of discourse.
• ☞
• Amor •• praesente g••nd••t, absente dolet. Bern. sup. Cant.
• Nil interest habe∣re ostium aper∣tum, vultum clausum. Cicero.
• No rush with∣out mire, no corrupt heart without sinne.
• Plin. in Nat. hist.
• Iob. 20.16.
• ☞
• Of the choice of Acquain∣tance in matters of advice.
• Iob 16.2.
• Laert. in vit. Per••and.
• Omnia proten po∣re, ni••il pro veri∣tate. Optatus l. 1. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• Ecclus. 13.1.
• Whose wood is sweetest, shade coolest, and coale hot∣test.
• Fabiolae Maus. 15.
• Lat••at, hac uno s••••w. S••n. in Troad.
• In Tiberius time.
• Pro. 27.5, 6.
• Laert. in vit. Biant.
• Suet. in August.
• Tusc. lib. 1.
• Of the benefit properly deri∣ved from one friend to ano∣ther in every peculiar action
• Plutarch. in Pe∣lopida, initio.
• Plutarch in Paulo Aemilio, fine.
• Nihil lam aeque ••••l••cta••••ri•• an∣••num quam am••∣••itia side is. Sen. in tranq. anim.
• Vt flores qui odore delict••nt. Ibid.
• The expres∣sive Character of a reall friend.
• Nam in soro sunt lites & ••c••••ones mol••••stae Posidip. dict.
• Si quis in hoe mundo cunctis vult gratus ha∣beri, Det, cap••al, quaerat, plur••ma, pauca, nihil. Plato.
• The benefits which redound from the mutu∣all union or communion of friends in the exercise of Pleasure.
• Ioci non s••nt ni∣musalsi, multo minus insulsi; illi enim multum officiuni; isti, nisi per cachinnum, parum p••oficiunt.
• Vanitati prosrie festivitas cedit. Cic. de orat. lib. 2.
• As many Stars 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the hea∣vens bee,

  So many maids ha's Rome to welcome thee. As many kids as on the Downes we see,

  So many Pro∣stitutes in Rome there bee.
• Scipio Nasica.
• A tergo Nemesis.
• Lacrt. in vil. Biant.
• A rule of infal∣lible direction, touching ••h••••ce of Acquaintance.
• Quisquis plus justo non sapit, ille sapit. Martial. l. 14.
• Those jests are best seasoned, that are least saked.
• Of the choice or ju∣dicious ap∣provement of Acquain∣tance, in affaires of highest Con∣sequence. A••icos sequere, quos non ••ud••at ••legisse. Bias. Neither Timist nor Timonist are within the lists of Acquaintance to be enter∣tained.
• The Timist or Time-observer displayed and displaced.
• Nec 〈…〉〈…〉
• Sext. Aurel. in Constant.
• These Timists have resem∣blance to those applauding Parasi••es, by whom Antio∣chus was at one time saluted both 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 and 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, a glorious Prince, and a furious tyrant. Tam gravis ille mihi nigri quàm limina ditis, Ore aliud qui fert, aliud suo pect••re condit. Homer. lib. 2.
• ☞
• Cum Catilina pol∣liceri novas ta∣bulas, proscrip∣tiones divitum, magistratus, sa∣cerdotia, rapi∣nas, ali•• omnia quae bellum at∣que libido victo∣rum fert. Salust.
• Plures homines pudore magis quam bona vo∣luntate prohibi∣tis abstinent.
• Esse inter nocen∣tes 〈…〉〈…〉 est. Cyprian. Epist. 2.
• Ca••panus.
• ☞
• ☞
• Peccatum semper pregnans, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ex alio gig••••t.
• Vitia m••bi sant an. mi. Sen.
• V••tia ad vi••inos serpunt & con∣••acta no••ent. ib.
• 〈1 paragraph〉〈1 paragraph〉
• Quae male ••••ssi∣••••tur, mis••r•• in∣sicitur. Q••••t vit••a, tot D••moni••. Tot Daemo••ia, quo•• 〈…〉〈…〉.
• Si inrecentes 〈…〉〈…〉 praemia. Salust.
• Gratia quae coeat fict••••ale-s••rta sodalis Est velut in Siculo Scylla cavenda mari. Pub Faust. Andrel.
• Pro. 29.5.
• The Timonist. or Time de∣tracter disco∣vered and dis∣carded.
• ☞
• Ar••st. Hist. ani••n.
• Nosque ubi 〈…〉〈…〉 oriens 〈…〉〈…〉 rubens 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••umina 〈◊〉〈◊〉.
• Tu voluptatem complecteris, nos compescirrus. Tu omnia volup∣tatis causa facis, nos nihil. Sen. de malis ac∣cidentibus bonis. Lib. 1.
• Neu tihi pulchra patent caeci vesti∣gia mundi, ••allere quae citi•• quam renovare solent?
• Plutarch.
• What directi∣ons are to be observed in the choice of a wife.
• Gen. 1.13.
• The harsh and heremiticall conceit of the Carthaginian Ar∣minius, tou∣ching Mariage.
• Se non prosperae tantum, sed ••m∣n•• fortunae ins∣sesocietatem.
• —vix ulla peren∣nior u••na est Vel tibi grata magis, proprio quam corp••re bu∣stum Condere.—und requies∣cit in urna. Ovid. Met. lib. 4.
• Hebr. 13.4.
• Arist. lib. 1. Po∣lit. cap. 1. Eam ••ligas ma∣g••••••••••, quem magis admire is 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ideas, qu••m cum anci∣••••. S••neca.
• Egnatius quod candidos habet dentes re••id••t usquequaque, seu aed rei ventum est subsellium. Vid. Catull. in lib. E••eg.
• a

  Epictet. En∣chirid.
• b

  Cypr. de disci∣p••ina & habitu virg.
• ☜
• c

  Petr. Mart. in 2 Reg. 9.30.
• d

  Cyprian.
• e

  A••b••. Hexam. lib. 6. cap. 8.
• f

  Hieron.
• g

  Iunius.
• h

  Aug. de Christ. fide.
• i

  Ambros. lib. 1. de offic. cap. 18.
• k

  Hier. ad Fu∣riam de vid. Ser. Tom. 1.
• l

  Tertul. de hab. Mal. cap. 7.
• m

  Scult.
• n

  Cyprian. in lib. de hab. virg.
• o

  Vict. ad Sal∣monem.
• p

  Tho. Hudson.
• q

  Clemens Alex. const. Apost. l. 1. cap. 9.
• r

  Hier. de exitu Leae.
• s

  Vict. ad Sal∣monem.
• t

  Caesar. in Com∣ment.
• u

  Nazian. con∣tra multeres im∣modice c••mptas.
• x

  Laert. lib. 6. Optimisunt odo∣res qui adorant m••••s, al••te•• no•• sunt flores sed faetores.
• y

  Lessius dej••∣sti. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 & jure. lib. 4. cap. 4 fol. 802.
• z

  Pet. Al••gora in Compend o Manu••l. Navar. c 25▪ Numb. 19. f••l. 257.
• Laert. in vit. C••e••b.
• Portion and Proportion.
• a

  Vbi Deus est, ibi p••dicitia. H••••••en. ad Furi∣am de vid. Serm. Tom. 1.
• b

  Velamen istud An••i••hristi. ibid.
• Cal. Rhod. lib. 12. cap. 8.
• Privileges of Marriage.
• Plin. l. 35. c. 10.
• Laert. in vit. Chyl.
• Fortes creantur fortibus & bo∣nis: Est in juven∣cis, est in equis patrum Virtus— Horat.
• 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• Insel cem dice∣bat Bias qui fer∣re nequiret inse∣licita••em. ••aert.
• Pomp. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 l. 1.
• Quorsum alter dives, alter pau∣per?

  Theophrast. Nil habet infelix paupertas darius in se,

  Quam quod ri∣diculos homines facit—

  Iuven. Sat. 3.
• Quem sugiam scio, quem sequar nescio.

  Homer. Iliad. 5.
• Nihil turpius du∣bio & incerto, pedem monò re∣serente, modò pro∣duc••nte. Sen. epist. 96.
• Sundry indu∣cing motives to Love re∣counted. Parentage. Benevolence. Fame.
• Pardoning of injuries.
• Numb. 12.10.13.
• Concurrencie in hatred.
• Compassion in affliction.
• 1 King. 22.2. 2 Sam. 15.37.
• Ecclus. 6.14.
• Virtus in infir∣mitate perficitur. 2 Cor. 12.7. Delivery from danger.
• Judith 13.10.
• Esther 8.11.
• Exod. 15.1. Joshua 24.31. Judg. 16.2. Maccab. 13.15 V••d. Eccl. à cap 44. ad 51.
• Expression of vertue.
• 1 K••ng. 24.26.
• Acknowledge∣ment of inju∣ries.
• A position of Aristot. Rhet. 2. cap. 4.

  Vt tenuissima scintilla quae in Oceanum demit∣titur.

  Chrysost. in hom. ad Pop.

  Suffering of injuries. Bountie, or Munificense.

  2 Cor. 9.7. Ecclus. 6.8.13.
• Ecclus. 12.8, 9. Ibid. cap. 13.6.8. Obad. 7.
• Arist. Eth. lib. 4.
• Of Constan∣cie in the choice of Acquain∣tance. Ecclus. 6.7.5.
• 14.
• A••ârunt Solem ardentem, ode∣runt arguentem.
• Vt ab iis melio∣res fiant, aut eos quibuscum ver∣santur, meliores faciant.
• Inter Vestales hoc celebre fu••t, primò discunt quid agant, po∣f••ea agunt quod discunt, tertio alios d••cent quod discant & agant.
• Non est strepitus oris, sed jubilus cordis, non sonus labiorum, sed mo••us gaudior••••, con. ordia volun∣tatum non cons•• nantia vocum; Parum enim pro. lest sola voce cantare sine cor∣dis intentione. Bern.
• Etiam cada∣ver mortui offi∣cioso gestu preca∣batur.
• Quaerite quod quaritis, sed non ubi quaritis. August.
• Delicatus magi∣ster est, qui pleno ventre dispatat de ••••junio.

  Hieron.

  Qui saturest ple∣no lauda•• jeju∣ni•• ventre.
• Ecclus. 13.16.
• Quint. Curt. l. 1.
• Amicitiae ut pa∣res quaerunt itae & faciunt.

  Vt cuique est a∣tas, ita quemque facetus adopta.

  Hor. l. 1. epist. 6. Suaves omnes si∣unt sales Inter socios & sodalci.
• Quae demen••ia est potius trabis quàm sequi? Seneca.

  Nec quia dele∣ctat, placet; sed quia placet, delectat. ibid.

  Engregium apud vos virtutis offi∣cium ••••••••ptates persuadere: Su∣per mensam re∣cognoscentes om∣nia gentium ani∣malia: & quò magis implentur, eò magis inex∣plebiles. ibid.
• Three faculties of the under∣standing.
• These observe that maxime; He that know∣eth how to speake well, knoweth also when he must hold his peace.
• These thinke an houre be∣fore they speake, and a day before they promise.
• ☜
• In lib. de se••re••. s••cret••r.
• ☜
• Eccl. 26.28, 29
• Talis substantia non est stabilis, aut ipsis inventi∣bus est peritura, aut à ma••is hae∣redibus est dissi∣panda.

  Chrysost. in Mat.
• Ecclus. 9.10.
• Aristot. l. 4. Eth.
• Of Reser∣vancie to∣wards Ac∣quaintance. Eccles. 6.7.
• Chap 27.16. to 22.
• Iudg. 14.18.
• Chap. 16.19.
• Eccles. 33.18.
• Verse 19.
• Secrecie.
• Aditum nocendi perfido praestat sides.

  Sen. in Ocdip.
• ☜
• 1 Sam 6.19.
• 2 King. 20.13.
• Arcanum ne{que} t•• s••rulaberis ullius 〈◊〉〈◊〉; Com∣m••ss••m•• nelegis, & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 tortus & ••ra. H••r.
• Frontem a••eriat, mentem legat. Ci••.
• 1 Sam. 20.12.
• 30.
• Quid difficile? arcana (inquit) retice••e, & oci∣um recte dispo∣nere. Laert. in vit. Chyl.
• ☜
• Aristot.
• ☜
• Seneca.
• Sext. Aurel. in vit. Commodi.
• 2 Sam. 15.32.
• 2 King. 18.21.
• ☜
• Stow Annal. in vit. Iohan.
• Reservancie in respect of our Sub∣stance.
• Sal••st.
• Prodigus & stu••∣tus donat quae spernit, & odit. Horat. l. 1. ep. 7.
• Ecclus. 33 21.
• Nascitur escopu∣lu, nutritus lacte serino, Et dicam silices pectus habere su∣um. Ovid.
• Ecclus. 33.18.
• 28.
• Of the abso∣lute end of Acquain∣tance.
• Omni•• labor ali∣squò reseratur, aliquò respiciat, Sen. de tranq. anim. Cornel. Gall.
• Seneca.
• ☜
• Aristot.
• Laert. in vit. Biant.
• Ecclus. 6.13.8.
• ☜
• In It••nera••io. pag. 444.
• Scolasti••us & Mendi••u••; •• S••∣••ulacea••a!
• Nonne alterius seculi 〈◊〉〈◊〉 est transire per ter∣ram auri sine auro? Bern. de Consid. lib 4. Zeno noster cum omnis su•• audi∣ret submersa, ju∣bet (inqui••) ••e fortuna expedi∣tiùs Philosophari. Sen. de tranq. anim.

  Morgam vos ne mergar à vobis. Magnum est ma∣lum non posse ferre malum. Sen.
• Sen. de mal. acci∣dent. bonis. lib. 1.
• Especiall offi∣ces wherein friendship and Acquaintance should be ex∣ercised.
• ☜
• Arist.
• Maxima f••lici∣••as hujus mundi consistit in ami∣cis. Boe••. de consol. Phil.
• Nemo me amicus ben••sicen••ia, ne∣mo inferend•• in∣juria ••imicus superavit. Plut. in vit. Syll.
• Posse & nolle, nobile.
• ☞
• Vsque ad ad∣ventum Christi, Brita••nia ferti∣lis provincia ty∣rannorum, & Scoticae gentes, omnesque usque ad Ocean••m per circuitum barba∣rae nationes, Moysen Prophe∣tas{que} ignorabant.
• b

  Stow Annal. in vita Morgani.
• c

  Camdeni Bri∣tan. in Essexia.
• d

  Stow Annal. in vita Bladud & Leyre Regum, & Severi Impe∣ratoris.
• e

  Iuellus in Tra∣ctat. de sacris Scripturis. pag. 129.

  Act 19.28.
• Templum Christi ••n te•• plum Io∣v••s, Mariae in Veneris diceres ••onversa. D Aeg••••••ius.
• f

  Gildas▪ l••b de victoria A••tchi A••.
• g

  Nicephorus l. 2. cap 40.
• h

  D••rotheus in Synopsi. cap. 23. Rom 16.10. 2 Tim. 4.21. The flourish∣ing state of the Church, amidst many hoarie winters of in∣novation.
• i

  Advers. Iudae. cap. 3. H••spania∣rum omnes ter∣mini, & Gallia∣rum diversae na∣tiones, & Bri∣tanna um i••ac∣cessa Romanis l••∣ca Christo vero subdita.
• k

  Hom. 4. in E∣zek. Qu••ndoter∣ra Britanniae an∣t•• adventum Christi••n univ•• Dei cons ••sit re∣lig••onem? Nunc vero uni••••••sa terra cum leticia clamat ad Domi∣num.
• l

  Socrat. l. 1. c. 9.
• m

  Hom. 18. in 2 Cor.
• n

  Epist. ad E∣v••grium. Anno 500.

  Columbanus in Anglio, Palladi∣us in Scoli••, Pa∣tritius in Hiber∣nia s••o••uit.
• o

  Advers. Grae. lib. 9.
• p

  Epist. lib. 2. cap. 58.
• q

  Hist. lib. 1. c. 1.
• Vide praeter cae∣teros n••cn inu•• melyti nominis, vitam B••rnard••. lil. 2 cap. 7. &. Bernard. de con∣siderat. lib 3.
• Si mi••cere licet figmentis sacra pr••fa••is.
• In upupae nido lapis est diversi coloris, qui tam occultae est vir∣tutis ut gerentem p••ane invisibilem ••od let.

  Albert. Mag. Basil.
• Omnis injuria in sensu patientis.
• Gravis est mise∣ria iniquè fere••∣ti, suavis au••em est divino amore serv••••t••.
• Praecept. 9 vid. Gaguin. lib. 7. Hist. Franc. Sur. Tom. 4.