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1 LEt mee know Thee, O Lord, who know∣est mee: let me know thee, * 1.1 as I am knowne of thee. O thou the vertue of my soule, make thy entrance into it, and so fit it for thy selfe, that thou mayst
haue and hold it without spotte * 1.2 or wrinkle. This is my hope, and therefore doe I now speake; and in this hope doe I reioyce, when at all I re∣ioyce. As for other things of this life, they deserue so much the lesse to bee lamented, by how much the more wee doe lament them: and againe, so much the more to bee lamen∣ted, by how much the lesse we doe lament them. For behold, thou hast loued truth, and hee that does so, commeth to the light. This will I publish be∣fore thee in the confession of my heart; and in my writing, before many witnesses.
1. ANd from thee O Lord, vnto whose eyes the bottome of mans Conscience
is layd bare, what can bee hid∣den in mee though I would not confesse it? For so should I hide thee from mee, not my selfe from thee. But now, for that my groaning is witnesse for mee, that I am displeased with my selfe: thou shinest out vnto mee, and art pleasing to me, yea desired, and be∣loued of mee: and I will bee ashamed of my selfe, yea I will renounce mine owne selfe, and make choyce of thee; and ne∣uer may I please thee, nor my selfe, but in thee.
2. Vnto thee therefore, O Lord, am I layd open, what e∣uer I am, and with what fruit I may Confesse vnto thee, I haue before spoken. Nor doe I it with words and speeches of the body, but with the expressions of my very soule, and the crye of my thoughts, which thy care onely vnder∣standeth. For when I am
wicked then to confesse vnto thee, is no other thing but to displease my selfe: but when I am well giuen, to con∣fesse vnto thee, is then no other thing, but not to attribute this goodnesse vnto my selfe: because it is thou, O Lord, that blessest the Iust, but first thou iustifiest him being wicked. My Confession there∣fore, O my God, in thy sight, is made vnto thee priuately, and yet not priuately: for in respect of noyse, it is silent, but yet it cryes alowd in re∣spect of my affection. For nei∣ther doe I vtter any thing that is right vnto men, which thy selfe hath not before heard from mee: nor caust thou heare any such thing from me, which thy selfe hath not first sayd vnto me.
1. VVHat therefore haue I to doe with men, that they should heare my Confessions; as if they could cure all my infir∣mities? A curious people to pry into another mans life, but slothfull enough to amend their owne. Why doe they desire to heare from me, what I am; who will not heare from thee, what themselues are? And how know they, whenas they heare my selfe confessing of myselfe, whe∣ther I say true or no; seeing none knowes what is in man, but the spirit of man which is in * 1.3 him? But if they heare from thee any thing concerning themselues, they cannot say,
The Lord lyeth. For what els is it from thee to heare of themselues, but to know themselues? and who is hee that knowing himselfe, can say, It is false, vnlesse him∣selfe lyes? But because Cha∣rity beleeueth all things; (that is to say, amongst those whom by knitting vnto it selfe it ma∣keth one) I therefore, O Lord, doe so also confesse vnto thee, as that men may heare: to whom though I be not able to demonstrate whether I confesse truely; yet giue they credit vnto mee, whose eares cha∣ritie hath set open vnto mee.
2 But doe thou, O my most private Physicion, make ap∣parent vnto mee, what fruite I may reape by doing it. For the confessions of my pas∣sed sinnes (which thou hast so giuen and couered, that thou mightest make mee happy in
thee, in changing my life by thy sayth and Sacrament) whenas they are read and heard, they stirre vp the heart that it may not sleepe in de∣spaire, and say, I cannot; but keepe it selfe wakefull in the loue of thy mercy, and the sweetnesse of thy grace: by which any weake persons is made strong, who is by it made guilty to himselfe of his owne infirmities. As for these that are good, they take de∣light to heare of their passed errours, (those I meane, that are now freed from them:) yet are they not therefore de∣lighted because they are er∣rors; but for that they hauing so beene, are not so now.
3. With what fruit, O Lord my God, to whom my consci∣ence, (more secure vpon the hope of thy mercy, then in her own inocēcy) maketh her dai∣ly confession, with what fruit
I beseech thee, doe I by this Booke before Thee also con∣fesse vnto men, what at this time I yet am, not what I haue beene? For, as for that fruit, I haue both seene & spoken of it but as for what I now am, behold, in the very time of the making of these Cōfessions; diuers people both desired to know it: both they that per∣sonally know mee, and those also that did not; they that had heard any thing eyther from me, or of me: but their care ouer-heares not my heart, where-euer, or what-euer I be. They are desirous there∣fore to heare mee confesse what I am within; whither neyther their eye, nor eare, nor vnderstanding is able to diue; yet doe they desire it, though they bee tyed to be∣leeue mee, not able to know me, because that Clarity (by which they are made good)
sayes vnto them, that I would neuer belye my selfe in my Confessions. And tis that Cha∣rity in them, which giues cre∣dit to me.
1. BVt to what end would they heare this? doe they desire to congratulate with mee, when as they shall heare how neere (by thy grace) I am now come vnto thee? and to pray for mee, when shall they once heare how much I am cast behind by mine owne heauinesse? To such will I discouer my selfe: for it is no meane fruite, O Lord my God, to cause many to me thankes vnto thee, and bee intreated for vs, by many.
Let the friendly minde of my brethren loue that in mee, which thou teachest is to bee loued: and lament in me, what thou teachest is to be lamented: Let the minde of my bre∣thren, not that of the stran∣ger, not that of the Strange children, whose mouth talketh * 1.4 of vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of iniquity; but that of my brethren who when they approue of mee, doe also reioyce for mee; and when they disallow mee, are sory for me: because that whe∣ther they allow, or disallow me, yet still they loue me. To such will I discouer my selfe: they will haue a respect to my good deedes, and sigh for my ill. My good deedes are thine appoyntments, a 1.5 and thy gifts: my euill ones, are my owne faults, and thy iudgements. Let them receiue comfort by the one, and sigh
at the other: Let now both thanks-giuing and be∣wailing ascend vp into thy sight, out of the hearts of my brethren, which are thy Cen∣sers.
2. And when thou, O Lord, art once delighted with the Incense of thy holy Temple, haue mercy vpon me according * 1.6 to thy great mercy, for thine owne names sake: and at no hand giuing ouer what thou hast begunne in mee, finish vp what is imperfect. This is the fruit of my Confessions; not of what I haue beene, but of what I am: namely, to con∣fesse this not before thee one∣ly, in a secret reioycing mixed with trembling; and in a pri∣uate sorrow fulnes, allayed with hope: but in the cares also of the beleeuing sonnes of men, sharers of my ioy, and partners in mortality with mee; my fellow Citizens, and
fellow Pilgrimes: both those that are gone before, and those that are to follow af∣ter mee, and those too that accompany mee along in this life.
3. These are thy seruants, my brethren; those whom thou willest to be thy sonnes, my masters; whom thou com∣mandedst mee to serue, if I would liue with thee. But this thy saying were to little purpose, did it giue the com∣mand onely by speaking, and not goe before mee in perfor∣ming. This therefore I now doe both in deede and word: this I doe vnder thy wings; and that with too much dan∣ger, were not my soule shel∣tred vnder thy wings, and my infirmity knowne vnto thee. I am but a little one; but my Father liueth for euer, and my Protector is fit for mee. For tis the very same hee that be∣gat
me, and that defends meet for thou thy selfe art all my goods; euen thou, O omnipo∣tent, who art present with me, and that before I am come vnto thee. To such therefore will I discouer my selfe, whom thou commandest mee to serue: not discouering what I haue beene, but what I now am, and what I am yet. But I will not iudge my selfe. Thus * 1.7 therefore let mee be heard.
1. BVt thou, O Lord, doest iudge me: because, that although No man knowes the things of a man but the spirit * 1.8 of man which is in him; Yet
is there some thing of man, which the very spirit of man that is in him, knoweth not. But thou knowest all of him, who hast made him. As for me, though in thy sight I de∣spise my selfe, accounting my selfe but dust and ashes; yet know I something of thee, which I know not of my selfe. For surely, now wee see thorough a glasse darkely, not * 1.9 face to face as yet: so long therefore as I bee absent from thee, I am neerer vnto my selfe * 1.10 then vnto thee; and yet know I thee not possible to be any wayes violated: whereas for my selfe, I neyther know what temptations I am able to resist, or what I am not.
2. But there is hope, be∣cause thou art faithfull, who * 1.11 wilt not suffer vs to bee temp∣ted aboue that wee are able: but wilt with the temptation also make a way to escape,
that we may be able to beare it. I will confesse therfore; what I know by my selfe I will con∣fesse, yea and what I know not. And that, because what I doe know by my selfe, by thy shewing it mee, I come to know it: and what I know not by my selfe, I am so long ignorant of, vntill my darke∣nesse bee made as the Noone∣day * 1.12 in thy sight.
1. NOt out of a doubtfull, but with a certayne * 1.13 conscience, doe I loue thee O Lord: Thou hast strucken my heart with thy word, & ther∣upon I loued thee. Yea also the heauen, & the earth & all that
is in them, behold, they bid me on euery side, that I should loue thee; nor cease they to say so vnto all, to make them inexcuseable. But more pro∣foundly wilt thou haue mer∣cy * 1.14 on whom thou wilt haue mercy, and wilt haue com∣passion vpon whom thou wilt haue compassion: for else doe the heauen and the earth speake forth thy prayses vnto the deafe. What now do I loue, whenas I loue thee? not the beauty of any corpo∣rall thing, not the order of times; not the brightnesse of * 1.15 the light, wch to behold, is so gladsome to our eyes: not the pleasant melodies of songs of all kinds; not the fragrant smell of flowers, and oynt∣ments, and spices: not Manna and honey, nor any fayre limbs that are so acceptable to flesh¦ly embracements.
2. I loue none of these
things, whenas I loue my God: and yet I loue a certaine kinde of light, and a kind of voyce, and a kinde of fragran∣cy, and a kinde of meat, and a kind of embracement. When∣as I loue my God; who is both the light, and the voyce, and the sweet smell, and the meate, and the embracement of my inner man: where that light shineth vnto my soule, which no place can receiue; that voyce soundeth, which time depriues me not of; and that fragrancy smelleth, which no wind scatters; & that meate tasteth, which eating deuoures not; and that embracement clingeth to mee, which satiety diuorceth not.
This is it which I loue, when as I loue my God. And what is this? I askt the Earth, and that answered me, I am not it; and whatsoeuer are in it, made the same confession. I asked
the Sea and the deepes, and the creeping things, and they an∣swered me, We are not thy God, seeke aboue vs. I asked the fleeting winds; and the whole Ayre with his inhabitants an∣swered me, That a 1.16 Anaximenes was deceiued, I am not thy God. I asked the heauens, the Sunne and Moone, and Starres, Nor (say they) are wee the God whom thou seekest.
3. And I replyed vnto all these, which stand so round a∣bout these dores of my flesh; You haue answered me con∣cerning my God, that you are not he. And they cryed out with aloud voyce, He made vs. My questioning with them, is my intention: b 1.17 & their answer is their figure and species. And I turned my selfe vnto my selfe, and sayd, Who art thou?
And I answered, A man: for behold, here is a soule, and a body in me, one without, and the other within. By which of these two, am I to seeke my God, whom my body had in∣quired after from earth to heauen, euen so farre as I was able to send these beames of mine eyes in ambassage? But the better part is the inner part, vnto which all these my bodily messengers gaue vp their c 1.18 intelligence, as being the President and Iudge of all the seuerall answers of heauen and earth, and of all things that are therein, who all sayd, Wee are not God, but He made vs. These things did my inner man kn••w by the intelligence giuen him by the outer man: And I the inner man knew all this; I the soule, by meanes of the Sences of the body.
4. I asked the whole frame of the world concerning my
God, and that answered mee, I am not He, but Hee made me. Doth not this corporeall figure guidently appeare to all those that haue their perfect sen∣ces? why then speakes it not * 1.19 the same things vnto all? The creatures both small and great doe see this corporeall figure well enough, but they are not able to aske any questions of it: because Iudge Reason is not President ouer their Sences which are to giue vp intelli∣gence vnto him. But Men are well able to aske that, so they may clearely see the inuisible things of God, which are vnder¦stood by the things that are made. But by inordinate loue of them, they make them∣selues subiects vnto them: and slaues are not fit to be Iudges. Nor will the creatures an∣swere to such as aske of them, vnlesse the askers be able to iudge: nor so much
as alter their voyce, (that is, their out-ward appea∣rance) if so bee one man onely lookes vpon it, and another seeing it, withall enquires of it, so as it may appeare one way to this man, and another way to that man: but it appea∣ring the same way vnto both, is dumbe to this man, but makes answere vnto that; Yea verily it speakes vnto all; but they onely vnderstand it, who compare that voyce re∣ceiued from without by the Sences, with the Truth which is within. For Truth sayes vn∣to me, Neyther heauen, nor earth, nor any other body is thy God. This, their very Na∣ture sayes vnto him that lookes vpon them; There is lesse bulke in the part of a thing, then in the whole. Now vnto thee I speake, O my soule, Thou art my better part: for thou quickenest this bulke of
my body, by giuing life vnto it, which no body can giue vnto a body: but thy God is the life of thy life vnto thee.
1. VVHat is it there∣fore which I loue, when as I loue my God? who is Hee that is aboue the top of my Soule? By this very soule will I ascend vp vnto him; I will so are beyond that facul∣ty of mine, by which I am v∣nited vnto my body, and by which I fill the whole frame of it with life. I cannot by that faculty finde my God; for so, the Horse & Mule that haue no vnderstanding, might * 1.20 as well finde him; seeing they
haue the same faculty, by which their bodies liue al∣so.
2. But another faculty there is, not that onely by which I giue life, but that too by which I giue sence vnto my flesh, which the Lord hath framed for me: when (name∣ly) he commands the eye that it should not heare, and the care that it should not see: but orders that for mee to see by, and this, for mee to heare withall; and assignes what is proper to the other Sen∣ces seuerally, in their owne seates and offices; which be∣ing diuers through euery sence, yet I the soule being but one, doe actuate and go∣uerne. I will (I say) mount be∣yond this faculty of mine; for euen the Horse and Mule haue this, seeing they also are sen∣sible in their bodies.
1. I Will soare therefore beyond this faculty of my nature, still rysing by degrees vnto Him, who hath made both mee and that na∣ture. And I come into these fields and spacious palaces of my Memory, where the trea∣sures of innumerable formes brought into it from these things that haue beene percei∣ued by the sences, be hoarded vp. There is layd vp, whatso∣euer besides wee thinke, ey∣ther by way of enlarging or diminishing, or any other wayes varying of those things which the sence hath come at: yea, and if there bee any thing recommended to it, and there layd vp, which forgetfulnesse hath not swallowed vp and
buried. To this treasury when euer I haue recourse, I de∣maund to haue any thing brought forth whatsoeuer I will; whereupon some things come out presently, and o∣thers must be longer enquired after, which are fetcht (as it were) out of some more secret receptacles: other things rush out in troopes; and while a quite contrary thing is desi∣red and required, they start forth, as who should say, Lest peraduenture it should bee wee that are called for. These I driue away with the hand of my heart, from the sight of my remembrance; vntill that at last bee discouered, which I desire, appearing in sight, out of its hidden Cells. Other things are supplyed more easily and without dis∣order, iust as they are desired: former notions giuing way to the following by; which gi∣uing
way are they layd vp a∣gaine, to bee forth-comming when-euer I will haue them. Which is altogether, whenas I repeate any thing by heart.
2. There are all things dis∣tinctly & vnder generall heads preserued, according to the seuerall gates that each notion hath beene-brought in at: as light (for example) & all colours and formes of bodies, brought in by the Eyes: and by the Eares all sorts of Sounds: and all Smels by the Nosethrils; all tastes by the gate of the Mouth: and by the sence which belongs to the whole a 1.21 body, is brought in whatso∣euer is hard or soft; whateuer is hot, or cold; whateuer is smooth or rugged, heauy or light, in respect of the body, eyther outwardly or inward∣ly. All these doth that great Receipt of the memory take in, which are to bee sorth com∣ming,
and to be cald for againe, whenas neede so requireth. And there bee, I know not what, secret and vnexpressable nookes in it; seeing all these notions of things each by his owne Port, enter into it, and are there layd vp in it. And yet doe not the things them∣selues enter the Memory; onely the Images of the things perceiued by the Sences, are ready there at hand, when euer the Thoughts will recall them.
3. Which Images who can tell how they come to be for∣med, notwithstanding it plainely appeares by which of the Sences each hath beene fetched in and locked vp? For euen whilest I dwell in the darknesse & silence; yet into my memory can I draw colours, if I please, and can discerne betwixt Blacke and White, and what others I desire.
Nor yet her Sownds breake in, and disturbe that notion drawne in by mine eyes, which I am now considering vpon: seeing these Sounds bee in the memory too, and layd vp in se∣cret, as it were apart by them∣selues; and I can call for them if I please, and they present themselues to mee at an in∣stant. And though my tongue be quiet, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as much as I will; nor doe the Images of those colours which notwith∣standing be then there, now encroach and interrupt me, when another piece of trea∣sure is cald for which came in by the eares. And thus all o∣ther things, brought in and layd vp by other of the sen∣ces, doe I call to remembrance at my pleasure. Yea I discerne the breath of lillies from that of violets, though at the in∣stant I smell nothing: and
I preferre honey before sweet wine, smooth before rugged; though at that time I neyther taste, nor handle, but re∣member onely. All this doe I within, in that hugy room∣thynesse of my memory.
4. For there haue I in a rea∣dinesse, the heauen, the earth, the sea, and what-euer I can thinke vpon in them, besides those which I haue forgot∣ten. There also meete I with my selfe, I recall my selfe, what, where, or when I haue done a thing; and how I was affected when I did it. There be all what euer I remember, eyther vpon mine owne ex∣perience, or others credit. b 1.22 Out of the same store doe I my selfe compare these and these likelyhoods of things; eyther of such as I haue made experience of, or of such as I haue barely beleeued vpon experience of some things
that bee passed: and by these do I compare actions to come, their euents and hopes: and vp∣on all these againe doe I medi∣tate, as if they were now pre∣sent. I will doe this or that (say I to my selfe, in that great re∣ceipt of my soule) and this or that shall follow vpon it. Oh that this would come to passe, or that! God would deliuer vs from this or that. Thus talke I to my selfe: which when I speake of, the Images of all the things that I do speake of, are present, all out of the same treasury of my memory; nor could I talke of any of these things, were the Images wanting.
5. Great is this force of memo∣ry, excessiue great, O my God! a large and an infinite room∣thynes, who can plummet the bottome of it? yet is this a fa∣culty of mine, and belongs vn∣to my nature: nor can I my self comprehend all that I am.
Therefore is the minde too streight to containe it selfe, not of capacity b 1.23 enough to hold there, what should be there. Is the memory there∣fore without the minde, or rather is it not within it? how then is not the mind suffici∣ent to conteyne all it selfe?
6. A wonderfull admirati∣on surprizes me, and an asto∣nishment seazes me vpon this: that men go abroad to admire the heights of mountaines, the lofty billowes of the sea, the long courses of riuers, the vast compasse of the Ocean, and the circular motions of the starres, and yet leaue them selues vnadmired. And that more is, all these things which I spake of, I did not then see thē with mine eyes; yet could I not haue spoken of them, vn∣lesse those mountaines & bil∣lowes, and Riuers, and starres, which I haue seene, and that
Ocean which I beleeue to be, I had already seene inwardly in my memory, yea with such vast spaces betweene, as if I had verily seene them abroad. Yet did not I swallow them into me by seeing, when as with mine eyes I beheld them: Nor are the things themselues now within me, but the Ima∣ges of them onely. And I di∣stinctly know by what sence of the body, each of these tooke impression in mee.
1. ANd yet is not this all, that this vnmeasurable capacity of my memory beares in minde. Here also bee all these precepts of those liberall Sciences as yet vnfor∣gotten;
coucht as it were fur∣ther off in a more inward place, though properly no place: nor is it the Images a 1.24 of the precepts which I beare, but the Sciences themselues. For, what Grammar, or Logike is, how many kinds of Questions there bee, whatsoeuer of all these I know, tis in such man∣ner in my memory, as that I haue not meerely taken in the Image, and left out the thing, as though the noyse of it ha∣uing sounded, is againe vani∣shed, like a voyce left in the care by the b 1.25 ayre of it, wher∣by it was to be called into memory, againe, as if it now
presently sounded, whenas in∣deede it doth not sound. Or like an Odour, euen while it passes away and is fann'd in∣to wind, does affect the smel∣ling; whence it conueighs the Image of it selfe into the me∣mory, which remembring, we smell ouer againe: or like meate, which verily in the belly hauing now no taste; hath a kinde of relish in the memory still: or like any thing that is by touching sen∣sibly felt by the body, which also being taken away, is not∣withstanding in our memo∣ry imagined by vs still. For surely the things themselues are not let in into the memory, but the Images of them onely are with anadmirable swift∣nes catcht in, & in most wor∣derfull cabiners stoard vp; whence they are as wonder∣sully fetcht out againe, by the Act of remembring.
1. BVt now when I heare that there bee three kinds of questions, Whether the thing bee? What it is? and of what rature it is? I doe in∣deed hold fast the Images of the sounds, of which those word; be cōposed, which I alsoknow to be, toge her with the noyse passed in by my eares not to be now in any being at all. As for the things themse lues which are signified by those sounds, I neuer so much as reacht them with any sence of my body, nor euer discernd them otherwise then by my very minde; yet haue I layd vp not their Images onely, but their very selues. Which how
they gate in into me, let others tell if they can: I for mine owne part haue runne ouer all the Cinque-ports of my flesh, but cannot finde by which they gat in.
2. For mine eyes they say; that if those Images were co∣loured, twas wee then that brought tydings of them. The eares they say, If they gaue any sound, then twas we gaue no∣tice of them. The Nosthrills they say, If they had any smell, then they passed in by vs. The sence of tast that sayes, Vnlesse they had a sauour with them, neuer aske me for them. The Touch that sayes, Were it not a body, I handled it not; and if I neuer handled it, then I gaue no notice of it. Looke now, whence and which way gat these things into my memo∣ry? I for my part know not how. For when I first learned them, I gaue not credit to
another mans heart, but I tooke knowledge of them in mine; and approouing them for true, I recommended them ouer vnto my heart, there laying them vp as it were, where I might fetch them agayne, wheneuer I de∣sired. In my heart therefore they were euen before I lear∣ned them, but in my memory they were not. Where were they then? or wherefore, when as they were spoken of, did I acknowledge them, and affirmed So it is, and it is true, vnlesse because they were al∣ready in my memory; though so farre off yet, and crowded so farre backeward as it were into certaine secret caues, that had they not beene drawne out by the aduice of some o∣ther person, I had neuer per∣chance beene able so much as to haue thought of them?
1. VVHerfore we find, that to learne these things whose Images we sucke not in by our Sences, but perceiue within by them∣selues, without Images, as they are; is nothing else, but by meditating to gather toge∣ther, and by diligent marking, to take notice of those same notions which the memory did before contayne more scatte∣ringly and confusedly; that so, being orderly and at hand as it were layd vp in the me∣mory, (where before they lur∣ked vncollected and neglect∣ed) they may more easily make proffer of themselues vnto our intention b 1.27 now made familiar vnto them.
2. And how many of this kinde does my memory still beare in mind which are found out already, and as I sayd, rea∣dy at hand as it were; which yet we are sayd to haue a 1.28 lear∣ned and to haue knowne: which if I should giue ouer to call to minde but for some short space of time, they be∣come so drowned againe, and so giue vs the slip, as it were, backe into such remote and priuy lodgings, that I must be put againe vnto new paines of meditation, for recouery of them to their former perfecti∣on. For other Quarter to re∣tyre b 1.29 vnto they haue not: but they must be rallied and drawne together againe, that they may bee knowne; that is to say, they must as it were be collected and gathered together from their dispersions: whence the word c 1.30 cogitatiō is deriued. For Cogo & Cogito are of the
same forme, as Ago and Actito, Facio and Factito. Notwith∣standing hath the mind of man so properly layd clayme vnto this word (Cogitation) as that now, not that which is gathered together in any o∣ther place, but in the mind one∣ly, (that is drawne together,) is by custome of speech pro∣perly now sayd to bee (cogi∣tated or) thought vpon.
1. THe Memory contay∣neth also the reasons and innumerable lawes of Numbers and Dimensions; none of which hath beene by any Sence of the body imprin∣ted in it: seeing they haue ney∣ther colour, nor sound, nor taste
nor small, nor feeling. I haue heard the sounds of those words by which these things are signified, when as they haue beene argued vpon: but the sounds are of another na∣ture from the things. For the sounds are one way in Greeke, and another in Latine: but the things themselues are neyther Greeke, nor Latine, nor any o∣ther Language.
2. I haue likewise seene the lines drawne by Architects, euen as small as the thred of a Spiders web; but these are of another kinde; they are not the Images of those Dimensi∣ons, a 1.31 which mine eye of flesh shewed vnto me. He know∣eth them, who soeuer with∣out any thought of heart whatsoeuer, acknowledges them within himself. I haue al∣so perceiued euen with all the the sences of my body, those num∣bers which wee number; but
those numbers by which wee make our account, are far dif∣ferent from those numbers which wee make our account vpon; nor are they the Ima∣ges of these, and therefore are they diuerse a 1.32 from them. Let him now laugh at me for these things, who vnderstands them not; and I will pitty him, whilest hee derides me.
1. ALL these things I well remember, and how I first learnt them doe I well re∣member. Many things most falsely obiected against these things, haue I both heard, and doe yet remember: which though they bee false, yet is it not false that I haue remem∣bred
them; and that I haue discerned withall, betwixt these truths and these false∣hoods, which are obiected a∣gainst them. And this I re∣member too; and I perceiue my selfe to discerne these things one way now, and remember my selfe to haue oftentimes discerned them o∣therwaies, whenas I often thought vpon them. That I haue therefore vnderstood these things heretofore, doe I remember often; and what I now discerne and vnderstand, doe I lay vp in my memory, that hereafter I may remem∣ber how I haue vnderstood it now. Therefore also doe I now remember myselfe to haue re∣membred; like as if hereafter I shall call to remembrance, that I haue been able to remember these things now; it shalbe by the force of my memory, that I shall bee able to call it to re∣membrance.
2. My Memory contaynes al∣so the Affections of my mind, not in the same manner that my minde it selfe contaynes them, whenas it suffers them: but farre another way, like as the force of the b 1.33 Memory containes it selfe. For euen then when I am not merry, yet doe I remember my selfe to haue beene merry hereto∣fore; and when I am not sad, yet doe I call to minde my forepassed sadnesse. And that I haue beene afrayd hereto∣fore, I now remember with∣out feare; and I sometimes call to minde a forepast desire, without any desire at all, now. Sometimes on the contrary, in a fit of ioy doe I remember my forepassed sorrow, and in a sad moode, call I to minde the ioy that I haue sometimes enioyed.
1. VVHich is not to bee wondered at, if meant of the body; for the minde is one thing, and the body another. If I therefore with ioy remember some pas∣sed paine of body, 'tis not so strange a thing. But now see∣ing this Minde is the very same which the memory, (for that when we giue command to haue a thing kept in memo∣ry, we say; Looke to it, that you heare this well in mind: and so, when we forget a thing, wee say; It was in my mind euen now, and, 'tis quite slipt out of my minde, calling the memory the minde:) seeing therefore so it is, how comes this to passe,
that when in a cheerfull veyn I remember a sad passage, my minde thinking vpon ioy, and my memory at the same time vpon sadnesse: my mind vpon the ioyfulnesse it conceiues, is full of ioy, and yet my me∣mory vpon the sadnesse that is in it, is not sad; does not the memory perchance be∣long vnto the minde? Who will say so? Doubtlesse there∣fore the memory is as it were the belly of the mind; and ioy and sadnesse, like sweete and sowre meate, which when they are committed vnto the memory, bee as it were passed away into the belly; where stowage they may haue, but taste none at all. Ridiculous it is to imagine these to be alike; and yet are they not vtterly vnlike.
2. But behold, this also bring I out of my memory. whenas I say there bee foure
perturbations of the minde, desire, ioy, feare, and sorrow: and how farre soeuer I am able to dispute vpon these heads, both by deuiding the whole, each into his parts, and by defyning: in my memory finde I what to say, and out of my memory doe I bring it: yet am I not moued for all this, with any of these Per∣turbations, whenas by calling them to minde, I doe remem∣ber them; yea, and before I recalled and meditated them ouer, n my memory they were, and therefore by calling to mind might they very well be fetcht from thence. Perchance therefore, euen as meate is by chewing of the Cud, brought vp againe out of the belly, so by recalling, are these brought vp out of the me∣mory. Why therefore does not the disputer perceiue the taste of it in the mouth
of his Musing? why does not the remēberer feele (I meane) the swiftnes of ioy, & the bit∣ternesse of sorrow? is the com∣parisō vnlike in this, that it is not euery way the like? Who then would willingly discourse of these subiects, if so oft as we name griefe or feare, so oft we should be compelled to be sad or fearefull? and yet could we neuer spoake of them, did we not finde in our memory, not the sounds of the names alone according to their Ima∣ges imprinted in it by the Sen∣ces of the body, but euen the very notions of the Things themselues which wee neuer receiued in, by any of the Cinque-parts of our body, but which the very minde it selfe made sensible of by the expe∣rience of its owne passions, hath committed vnto the memory; or else which the memory hath of it selfe retai∣ned,
being neuer committed vnto it.
1. BVt whether all this bee done by the Images or no, who can readily affirme? For when, for example, I name a Stone, I name the Sunne at such time as the things themselues are not before my Sences; yet euen then doe I conceiue the Images of them. I name some bodily paine, yet I doe not feele it whenas no∣thing akes about me: yet for all this, vnlesse the Image were in my memory, I should neuer know what I sayd, nor should in discoursing diserne payne from pleasure.
2. I name bodily health;
whenas I am found in body, the thing it selfe is present with me; and yet for all this, vnlesse the Image of health al∣so were fixed in my memory, I could by no meanes recall into my remembrance, what the sound of this name should sig∣nifie: nor would sicke people know when health were na∣med, what were spoken, vn∣lesse the Image thereof were preserued by the force of the memory, although the thing it selfe were far enough from the body. I name some num∣bers by which we accompt, and they are in my memory; not their Images, but themselues. I name the Image of the Sunne, and that image is also in my memory. Nor doe I call to minde the image of that image, but the image it selfe; that is it which is present with me, whenas I remember it. I name Memory, and I ac∣knowledge
what I name. But where doe I acknowledge it, but in my memory it selfe? May the memory it selfe bee present vnto it selfe by its owneimage, or not by it selfe rather?
1. VVHen I name for∣getfulnesse, and ac∣knowledge it withall; whence should I acknowledge what to name, did I not remember it? I speake not now of the sound of the name, but of the thing wch it signifies: which if I had forgotten, I could ne∣uer acknowledge what that sound signified. When there∣fore I remember memory, then is the memory it selfe
present with mee 〈…〉〈…〉: but when I name both forget∣fulnes and memory too, then is forgetfulnesse present also. Memory is present by which I haue remembred; forgetful∣nes is present by which I haue not remembred. But what is forgetfulnesse, but a priuation of memory? How then is that present for mee to remember, which when it is so, I cannot remember? Now, if wee re∣member any thing, wee hold it in memory; yet forgetful∣nesse, vnlesse wee did remem∣ber it, we could neuer at hea∣ring of the name, acknow∣ledge the thing that is signi∣fied by the sound. Forgetful∣nesse is retayned in the memo∣ry. Present therefore it is, that we might not forget it, which when it is not, wee doe for∣get it. Is it to bee vnderstood by this, that forgetfulnesse is not present vntō the memory
(whenas we remem••er it) by it selfe, but by its Image, be∣cause of it were present by it selfe, it would cause vs not to remember, but to forget?
2. Who now shall search out that? who shall compre∣hend how that should bee? For mine owne part, Lord, I yet labour vpon this, yea and * 1.34 I labour in any selfe, and am become a soyle that requires hard labour and very much sweate. For wee are not now quartering out the regions of heauen, or taking the distan∣ces of the Starres, or deuising where the hinges of the earth should hang. It is I my selfe that remember, I the Mind. 'Tis then no such wonder, if the knowledge of that bee farre from mee, which I my selfe am not. But what is nea∣rer to mee then my selfe? Yet loe, am not I able to compre∣hend the force of mine owne
memory; no, though I cannot so much as call my selfe my selfe, without it. For what shall I say, when I see it so cer∣tayne that I remember for∣getfulnesse? Shall I say that that is not in my memory, which I remember? or shall I say that forgetfulnesse is for this purpose in my me∣mory, that I might not for∣get? Both these are most ab∣surd.
3. What is to bee thought of this third doubt? How can * 1.35 I say that the Image of for∣getfulnesse is kept in memo∣ry, and not forgetfulnesse it selfe, whenas I doe remem∣ber it? with what colour may I affirme this also, seeing that when the Image of any thing is imprinted in the me∣mory, tis necessary that the thing it selfe bee present first, by which that image may bee imprinted? For in this sort
doe I remember Carthage, and all other places where I haue beene: thus remem∣ber I mens faces also, whom I haue seene, and the Reports of the other Sences: * 1.36 thus doe I too, with the health or sicknesse of the bo∣dy. For when these obiect, were present with mee, my memory receiued their ima∣ges from them; which as e∣uer present, I might looke vn∣to and repeate ouer in my mind, when-euer I desired to remember the obiects them∣selues which were absent. If therfore this forgetfulnesse should be held in memory by meanes of its image, and not immediately by it selfe, then plainely, hath it selfe beene sometimes present, that its i∣mage might be then taken. But (now) when it was present, how did it write that image in the memory, seeing the proper∣ty
of forgetfulnes is, by its pre∣sence, to blot out what euer it finds there noted? Well! which way soeuer it bee, not∣withstanding that way bee past conceiuing, and expres∣sing; yet most certaine I am, that I doe well remember this same forgetfulnesse, by which whatsoeuer else wee remem∣ber, is defaced.
1. GReat is this power of Memory; a thing, O my God, to bee amazed at, a very profound and infinite multiplicity: and this thing is the minde, and this thing am I. What am I therefore, O my God? What kinde of nature am I? A life various and full
of changes, yea vehemently in∣sariable. Behold, in those in∣numerable fields, and dennes, and caues of my memory, in∣numerably full of innumerable kinds of things, brought in, first, eyther by the Images, as * 1.37 all bodies are: secondly, or by the presence of the things * 1.38 themselues, as the Arts are: thirdly, or by certaine notions * 1.39 or impressions, as the Affecti∣ons of the mind are, which e∣uen then when the mind doth not suffer, yet does the me∣mory retayne; for that what∣soeuer is in the mind, is also in the memory. Thorow all these doe I runne and tumble; my∣ning into them on this side, and on that side, so sarre as euer I am able, but can finde no bottome. So great is the force of memory, so great is the force of this life of man, euen whilest hee is mor∣tall. * 1.40
2. What am I now to doe, O thou my true life, my God? I will passe euen beyond this faculty of mine which is cal∣led memory: yea, I will passe beyond it, that I may ap∣proach vnto thee, O sweete light. What sayest thou to me now? See, I am now moun∣ting vp by the steps of my soule, towards ••hee who dwellest aboue mee. Yea I will passe beyond this faculty of mine which is called me∣mory, desirous to touch thee, so farre as thou mayest bee touched; and to cleaue fast vnto thee, where thou art to be layd hold vpon. For euen the beasts and birds haue me∣mory; else could they neuer find their dennes and nests a∣gaine; nor those many other things which they are vsed vnto: nor indeede could they euer enure themselues vnto any thing, but by their me∣mory.
I will passe beyond my memory therfore, that I may arriue at him who hath sepa∣rated me from the foure-foo∣ted beasts and the fowles of the ayre, making mee wiser then they: yea I will soare be∣yond mine owne memory. But where shall I finde thee, O thou truely good, and thou secure sweetnesse? But where shall I bee able to finde thee?
1. IF I now finde thee with∣out my memory, then am I vnmindfull of thee: and how shall I finde thee, if I doe not remember thee? The woman that had lost her greate, and sought it with
a light; vnlesse shee had re∣membred it, shee had ne∣uer found it. For when it was found, whereby should shee haue knowne whether it were the same or no, had shee not remembred it? I remem∣ber many a thing that I haue both lost, and found againe: whereby knew I that? euen because that when I was seek∣ing for any of them, and some∣body askt me, Is this it, or is that it? so long sayd I no, vn∣till that were offered mee which I sought for: which had I not remembred (what∣euer it were) though it were offered mee, yet should I not finde it, because I could not acknowledge it. And at the same passe still we are, as often as wee finde what we sought for.
2. Notwithstanding, when any thing is by chance lost frō the eyes, not frō the memory
(as euery visible body) yet the Image of it is kept still within, and is sought for vntill it bee againe restored vnto the sight: which when it is found, is knowne againe by the Image which is within: Nor doe we say that wee haue found what we haue lost, vnlesse we know it againe; nor can wee know it to bee the same, vnlesse wee remember it. This was onely lost to the eyes, but surely pre∣serued in the memory.
1. VVHen now the me∣mory it selfe lo∣ses any thing, (as it falls out whenas we forget any thing) and seekes out for the recoue∣ry of it; where at last doe we search, but in the memory it
selfe? where, if one thing bee offered in stead of another, wee so long refuse it, vntill wee meete that which wee seeke for: which so soone as we haue met withall, we say, This is it: which we could ne∣uer doe, did wee not know it to bee the same: and neuer could we doe that, vnlesse we did remember it. Certainely therefore wee had forgotten it; yet all of it had not slipt vs: but by that part whereof wee had some hold, was the lost part sought for; because the memory now feeling that it did not beare about so much of it together, as it had wont to doe, and halting as it were vpon the may me receiued in the losse of what it had beene vsed vnto; it eagerly layes about to haue that made vp againe, which was wan∣ting. Like as some knowne man, (eyther seene or thought
on) if hauing forgotten his name, we study to recouer it: what euer name but his comes into our memory, it will not peize in with it; and all, be∣cause that name was neuer v∣sed to bee thought vpon toge∣ther with that man: which name therfore is so long reiect∣ed, vntil that at length presents it selfe vnto the memory; with which, as hauing, beene acquainted with the know∣ledge of, it may euenly iump in withall. And from whence does that name present it selfe, but out of the memory? for when being put in minde by some other man, wee know it to bee the same, 'tis by vertue of the memory. Nor doe wee now beleeue it as any new name, but vpon the assurance of our Remem∣brance, doe wee allow it to be the same that was named to vs.
But were the name vtterly blotted out of the minde, we should not then remember it, when we were againe put in minde of it. For wee haue not vtterly as yet forgotten that, which wee remember our selues to haue forgotten. That lost notion therefore, which wee haue vtterly forgotten, shall we neuer be able so much as to seeke after.
1. HOw then doe I seeke after thee, O Lord? For when I seeke thee, my God, I seeke an happy life. I will seeke thee, that my soule may liue. For my body, that liueth by my soule: and my soule by thee. Which way then doe I seeke for an happy
life? seeing it is not to bee found, vntill I can say It is enough in that place, where I am to say it. How seeke I it? Whether by way of Re∣membrance, as one that had forgotten it, and yet remem∣ber my selfe to haue forgotten it? Or, by way of appetite to learne it as a thing vnknown; which eyther I neuer knew, or at least to haue so farre for∣gotten it, as that I doe not so much as remember that I haue forgotten it? Is a 1.41 nor an hap∣py life the thing which all de∣sire; and is there any man that some way or other desires it not? But where gate they the knowledge of it, that they are so desirous of it? where did they euer see it, that they are now so enamored of it? True∣ly we haue it, but which way, I know not: yea, there is a certaine other way, which when any hath, hee is euen
then blessed. And some there bee, that bee blessed in hope. These haue it in a meaner kind, then those who are in posses∣sion: who yet are much bet∣ter then such as are neyther blessed in deede, nor in hope: which very same men for all this, had they it not in some sort or other, would not so much as desire to bee happy; which that they doe desire, is most certaine.
2. How they come to know it, I cannot tell: and therefore haue they it by, I know not, what secret notice; concer∣ning which, in much doubt I am, whether it bee in the memory or no: which if it bee, then should wee some∣times haue beene blessed here∣tofore.
But whether euery man should haue beene so happy as seuerally considered in himselfe, or as in the loynes
of that a 1.42 man who first sin∣ned, and in whom wee are all dead, and from whom being descended, wee are all borne with misery; I now inquire not: but this I demaund, whether this bles∣sed life bee in the memory, or no? For, neuer should wee loue it, did wee not know it. Wee heare the name, and we all confesse our desire vnto the thing: for wee are not delighted with the sound onely.
For when a Grecian heares the name sounded in Latine, he is no wayes delighted, for that hee knowes not what is spoken; but wee Latines are delighted with it, euen as he is, if hee heares it pronounced in Greeke: because the thing it selfe is neyther Greeke nor Latine, the attayning whereof both Greekes and Latines doe so earnestly looke
after, like as the men of other Languages doe. Knowne ther∣fore vnto all it is and could they with one voyce bee de∣manded, Whether they would be happy or no? without doubt they would all answer, That they would. And this could not bee, vnlesse the thing it selfe expressed by this name, were still reserued in their memory.
1. BVt is it so in memory as Carthage is to a man that hath seeue it? No. For a blessed life is not to bee seene with the eye, because it is not a body. Doe wee then so re∣member it, as wee doe num∣bers? Neyther. For these, hee
that already hath in his know∣ledge, seekes not further to at∣tayne vnto. As for blessed lofe, wee haue that already in our knowledge, therefore doe we loue it, and yet desire to at∣taine, that wee may bee bles∣sed.
Doe wee remember it then, as we doe eloquence? Nor so. For although some vpon hea∣ring of the name, doe there∣upon call to minde the thing, who yet were neuer eloquent, and many doe it, that desire to bee so, whereupon it ap∣peares to bee already in their knowledge: yet hauing by their outward Sences obser∣ued others to bee more elo∣quent, they are both delighted at it, and desire to be so them∣selues: notwithstanding, if by their outward notice they had not obserued it, they could not haue beene delight∣ed with it; nor to be eloquent,
but that they were delighted with such as were eloquent. But what this blessed life should be, wee can by no sence of our body get the experi∣ence of.
2. Or is it so in memory, as the ioy is that wee remem∣ber? perchance so indeede: for my ioy I remember euen whilest I am sadde; like as I doe a happy life, euen whilest I am vnhappy: nor did I e∣uer with any bodily sence ey∣ther see, or heare, or smell, or taste, or touch that ioy of mine: but I found it in my minde, wheneuer I re∣ioyced; and the knowledge of it stucke so fast in my me∣mory, that I was well able to call it to remembrance, with contempt sometimes, and with fresh desire other whiles, euen according to the diuer∣sity of those things, for which I remembred my selfe to haue
reioyced. For euen at vn∣cleane thoughts, was I some∣times ouerioyed; which cal∣ling to minde againe, I now both detest and curse. And other whiles doe I ioy at good and honest thoughts, which I call to minde with some de∣sire, although they perchance present not themselues; and therefore againe sad at it, doe I call to mind my former re∣ioycing. Where therfore and when had I any feeling of a blessed life, that I should re∣member, and loue, and de∣sire it? Nor is it my desire alone, or of some few besides, but euery man verily would be happy; which, vnlesse by some certaine knowledge wee had notice of, wee should not with so certaine a will desire it.
3. But what is this? If two men bee askt whether they would goe to the
warres; one, perchance, would answere that hee would, and the other, that he would not; but if both were askt, whe∣ther they would bee happy, both of them would with∣out all doubting affirme, that they desire it: nor for any other reason would this man goe to the warres, and the o∣ther not, but to bee happy: For perchance, because that as one man reioyces vpon this occasion, and another vpon that; so doe all men agree in their desire of being happy: euen as they would agree, it they were asked, whether they desired to haue occasion of reioycing: (this b 1.43 very ioy being the thing which they call the blessed life:) and that ioy, though one man obtaines by one meanes, and another man by another meanes, yet is this the thing agreed vpon that they all striue to attaine
vnto, namely, that they may re∣ioyce: which for that it is a thing, which no man can right∣ly say, but that hee hath had some experience of, being therfore sound in the memory, is it called to knowledge, wheneuer the name of a blessed life is mentioned.
1. FArre be it, O Lord, farre be it from the heart of thy seruant who heere confesseth vnto thee, farre be it from me to imagine, that for euery ioy that I reioyce withall, I should be made happy. For there is a ioy which is not granted vnto the vngodly; but vnto those onely which loue thee for thine owne sake; whose ioy thy selfe art. And
this is the blessed life, to re∣ioyce vnto thee, concerning thee, and for thy sake: this is the happy life, and there is no other. As for them that thinke there is another, they pursue another ioy, which is not the true one. Howeuer, their minde is not vtterly turned aside from some kind of resemblance of reioycing.
1. IT is not certaine therefore that all men desire to bee happy, for that those who haue no desire to reioyce in thee, (which to doe is the one∣ly happy life.) doe not verily desire the happy life. Surely a 1.44 all mē desire this: but because the flesh lusteth against the Spirit,
and the Spirite against the flesh, that they cannot do what they would, doe they fall vpon that which they are able to doe, resting themselues con∣tented therewith: For be∣cause, that they are not able to doe, they doe not will so ear∣nestly, as were sufficient thorowly to make them able. For I demand of euery man, whether they had rather re∣ioyce in the truth, or in the falsehood? They will as little doubt to say, In the truth, as they would to say, that they desire to be happy: For a happy life is a ioying in the truth: For this is a ioying in thee, who art the truth, O God my light, the health of my coun∣tenance, and my God. This is the blessed life that all desire; this life which is only blessed, doe all desire to ioy in the truth is all mens desire. I haue had experience of diuers
that would deceiue, but not a man that would willingly be deceiued. Where therefore gaynd they the knowledge of this happy life, but euen there, where they learned the truth also? yea verily they loue this truth, for that they would not be deceiued: & whenas they loue a happy life (which is no∣thing else but a ioying in the truth) then also doe they loue the truth: which yet they would not loue, were there not some notice of it remay∣ning in their memory.
2. Wherefore then ioy they not in it? why are they not blessed? euen because they are more strongly taken vp with other things which haue more power to make them miserable, then that hath to make them happy, which they remember so little of. For there is a dimme glimmering of light yet vn-put-out, in
men: let them walke, let them walke, that the darknesse ouer∣take them not. Why now should truth bring forth ha∣tred, and thy Minister become enemy vnto them, whom hee preaches the truth vnto; when as a happy life is loued; which is nothing else, but a ioying in the truth:
vnlesse the reason bee, because truth is in that kinde loued, that all, which loue any other thing, would gladly haue that to bee the truth, which they so loue:who, because they would not willingly bee deceiued, would not therefore be conuinced of a falsehood? Therefore doe they hate the truth, for the same reason, which they loue instead of the truth.
They loue truth when it enlightens them, but they hate it when it reprehends them. For because they would not willingly bee deceiued, and
fayne would deceiue; doe they loue it, when it discouers it selfe vnto them; but they hate it, when it discouers them to others. But thus shall it pay them in their owne coyne; be∣cause, those who would not haue themselues discouered by it, euen those in despite of their teeth shall it vncase; and yet not reueale it selfe vnto them. Thus thus; yea very thus, yea iust thus, desires this pore-blinde, this lazie, this slouenly, and this ill-behau'd minde of man, to muffle vp it selfe from the view of others; but that any thing should bee conceald from it, it desires not But the quite contrary does befall it; for that it cannot lye vndiscouered from the truth; but the truth shall bee veyld vp from it. Yet this minde of man not withstanding, euen thus wretched as it is, takes
ioy rather in truths then in falsehoods. Happy therefore shall it one day bee, if no dis∣traction interloping, it shall settle its onely ioy vpon that Truth, by which all things else are true.
SEE now, how I haue cour∣sed ouer all my memory in search of thee, O Lord; and no where could I find thee, with∣out it. Nor haue I found any thing at all concerning thee, but what I haue kept in me∣mory, euer since the time that I first learnt thee: nor haue I euer forgotten thee, since the houre I first learnt thee; for where I sound Truth, there
found I my God who is the truth it selfe; which from the time I first learnt it; haue I not forgotten. Since therefore I learnd to know thee, hast thou still kept in my memory: and there doe I finde thee when euer I call thee to re∣membrance, and delight my selfe in thee. These be my holy delights, which thou hast be∣stowed vpon me through thy mercy, which had respect vn∣to my pouerty.
1. BVt whereabouts in my memory is thy resi∣dence, O Lord? where about there abidest thou? what ki•• of lodging hast thou there f••••∣med for thy selfer what man∣ner
of Sanctuary hast thou builded for thy selfe? Thou hast afforded this honour vnto my memory, as to reside in it; but in what quarter of it, that am I now considering vpon. For I haue already passed be∣yond such parts of it, as are common to mee with the beasts, whilest I called thee to mind, (for as much as I found not thee there amongst the I∣mages of corporeall things:) & I proceeded to these parts of it, whither I had recommen∣ded the Affections of my mind: nor could I finde thee there. Yea I passed further in∣to it, euen to the very seate of the minde it selfe (which is there in my memory, as ap∣peares by the mindes remem∣bring of it selfe:) neyther wert thou there: for that as thou art not eyther any corpo∣real image, no more art thou any Affection of a liuing man; like
as when wee reioyce, condole, desire, feare, remember, for∣get, or whatsoeuer else we doe of the like kinde: No nor yet art thou the minde it selfe; because thou art the Lord God of the minde. Moreouer, all these are changed, whereas thou remaynest vnchangeable ouer all; who yet vouchsafest to dwell in my memory, e∣uen since that first time that I learnt to know thee. But why seeke I now, in what particu∣lar place of my memory thou dwellest, as if there were any places at all in it? Sure I am, that in it thou dwellest: euen for this reason, that I haue pre∣serued the memory of thee, since the time that I first learnt thee: and for that I finde thee in my memory, whensoeuer I call thee to remembrance.
1. VVHere then did I finde thee, that I might learne thee? For in my memory thou wert not, be∣fore I learn'd thee. In what place therefore did I find thee, that so I might learne thee, but euen in thine owne selfe, farre aboue my selfe? Place there is none; wee goe backward and forward, but particular place there is none to containe thee. Euery where O truth, art thou President of the Councell to those that aske Counsell of thee, and at one dispatch doest thou answere all, yea though they aske thy counsell vpon diuers matters. Clearely doest thou answere them, though all doe not clearely vnderstand
thee.
All may aduise with thee about what they will, though they alwayes heare not such answer as they desired. Hee is thy best seruant, that lookes not so much to heart that from thee, which him∣selfe desireth; as hee that is willing with that rather, which from thee hee hea∣reth.
1. TOO late beganne I to loue thee, O thou beat∣ty both so ancient and so fresh, yea too too late came I to loue thee. For behold, tho•• wert within mee, and I out o•• my selfe, where I made search for thee; deformed I, wooing these beautifull pieces of th••
workmanship. Thou indeede wert with me; but I was not with thee: these beauties kept mee farre enough from thee: euen those, which, vn∣lesse they had their Being in thee, should not be at all. Thou calledst, and criedst vnto mee, yea thou euen brakest open my deafenesse. Thou disco∣ueredst thy beames, and shy∣nedst out vnto mee, and didst chase away my blindnesse. Thou didst most fragrantly blow vpon me, and I drew in my breath and panted after thee. I tasted thee, and now doe bunger and thirst after thee. Thou didst touch mee, and I euen burne againe to enioy peace thy.
1. VVHen I shall once attaine to be vni∣ted vnto thee in euery part of me, then shall I no more feele eyther sorrow, or labour: yea, then shall my life truely bee a∣liue, euery way full of thee. Whereas now verily, for that whom thou fillest, thou al∣so raysest, am I a burthen vn∣to my selfe, because I am not full of thee. The ioyes of this my life which deserue to bee lamented, are at strife with my sorrowes which are to bee re∣ioyced in: but which way the victory wil incline. I yet know not. Woe is me O Lord, haue pitty on mee; My sorrowes that be bad, are in contention with my ioyes that bee good: and which way the victory will encline, I yet know not.
Alasse for mee, O Lord, haue pitty vpon mee. Woe is mee; behold, I hide not my wound••: thou art the Physician, and I the Patient: thou mercifull, and I miserable; Is not the life of man vpon earth a very temptation?
2. Who is hee that would willingly endure troubles and difficulties? These thou com∣mandest to bee borne, not to beloued: for no man is in loue with the crosse which hee takes vp, though hee loues well enough to take it vp. For notwithstanding that he reioyces to beare, yea much rather had hee that there were no crosse for him to beare.In aduersity, I desire prosperity, and in prosperity am I afraid of aduersity: what middle place now is there be∣twixt these two, where this life of man is free from temp∣tation? Woe is threatned vn∣to
the prosperity of this world againe, & againe; both for the feare of aduersity, and lest our ioy should bee marred. Woe vnto the aduersities of this word, againe and againe, yet woe the third time vnto them: and that because of the great desire men haue vnto prosperity. Aduersity there∣fore being so hard a thing, and which makes a 1.45 shipwracke oft times of our patience, is not the life of man a ve∣ry temptation vpon Earth, and that without intermis∣sion?
1. NOw is all my hope no where but in thy very great mercy, O Lord my God.
Giue mee patience to endure what thou commandest, and then command what thou wilt. Thou imposest continen∣cy vpon mee; and when I perceiued as one b 1.46 sayth, that no man can bee continent, vnlesse thou giue it, and that this was a point of wisedome to know whose gift it was. By continency verily, are wee bound vp and brought into vnity with thee; from whom wee were scat∣tered abroad into many di∣uisions: for needes must hee loue thee lesse, who loues any thing together with thee, which hee loues not for thee.
O thon loue, which art euer burning, and neuer quenched! O charity, my God! kindle mee I beseech thee. Thou en∣ioynest me continency: giue me what thou commandest, and then command what thou wilt.
1. VErily thou comman∣dest me to containe my selfe from the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the am∣bition of this world. Thou commandest mee also to ab∣stayne from carnall copulati∣on; and concerning wedlock thou didst a 1.48 now aduise me to
a better course, then that was which thou leftest me my free choyce in. And because thou gauest it, ••t was obtayned, and that before I became a dispen∣cer of thy Sacrament.
But yet still there liue in my memory, (which I haue now spoken so much of) the Ima∣ges of such things, as my ill custome had there fixed; and which rush into my thoughts (though wanting strength) euen whilest I am broad wa∣king: but in sleepe obey come vpon me, not to delight onely, but euen so farre as consent, and most like to the deede doing: yea, so farre preuailes the illusion of that Image, (both in my soule and in my flesh) as that these false visi∣ons perswade me vnto that when I am asleepe, which true visions cannot doe, when I am awake. Am I not my selfe at that time,
O Lord my God? And is there yet so much difference betwixt my selfe and my selfe, in that moment wherein I passe from waking to sleeping, or returne from sleeping vnto waking?
2. Where is my reason at that time, by which my mind when it is a wake, resisteth such suggestions as these? at which time, should the things them∣selues presse in vpon mee, yet would my resolution re maine vnshaken. Is my reason clo∣zed vp, together with mine eyes? or is it lull'd asleepe with the sences of my body? But whence then comes it to posse, that wee so often euen in our sleepe make such re∣sistance; and being mindefull of our purpose, and remaine most chastly in it, wee yeeld no assent vnto such entice∣ments? And yet so much dif∣ference there is, as that when
any thing hath otherwise hap∣ned in our sleepe, wee vpon our waking returne to peace of conscience: by the distance of time discouering that it was not wee that did it, not∣withstanding wee bee sorry that there is something some∣way or other done in vs. Is not thy hand able, O God al∣mighty, to cure all the dis∣cases of my soule, and with a more abundant measure of thy grace, also to quench the lasciuious motions of my sleepe?
3. Thou shalt increase, O Lord, thy graces more and more vpon mee, that my soule may follow my selfe home to thee, wholy freed of that bird••ly me of concupiscence; that it may no longer rebell against it selfe, nor may in dreames not onely not com∣mit these adult erous vnclean∣nesses, by meanes of these
b 1.49 sensuall Images, procuring pollution of the flesh, but that it may not so much as once consent vnto them. For to hinder that no such fancy, (no not so much as should neede any checke to restraine it,) doe its pleasure in the chast affection of those that sleepe, (not in this life onely, but euen in this age of youth) is not hard for the Al∣mighty to doe, who is able to doe aboue all that wee aske or * 1.50 thinke. And for this time, in what case I yet am in this kind of naughtinesse, haue I con∣fessed vnto my good Lord; reioycing with trembling in that grace which thou hast al∣ready giuen me, and bemoa∣ning my selfe for that, where∣in I am still vnperfect; well hoping, that thou wilt one day perfect thy mercies in mee, euen vnto a fulnesse of peace: which both my out∣ward
and inward man shall at that time enioy with thee, whenas death shall be swallow∣ed vp in victory. * 1.51
1. THere is another euill of the day, which I wish * 1.52 were sufficient vnto it, that we are fayne by eating and drink∣ing to repaire the daily de∣cayes of our body, vntill such time as thou destroyest both * 1.53 belly and meat, whenas thou shalt kill this emptinesse of mine, with a wonderfull ful∣nesse, and shalt cloath this in∣corruptible, * 1.54 with an eternall incorruption. Butin this life, e∣uen necessity is sweete vnto me, against which swetnes do
I fight, lest I should bee be∣guiled by it; yea, a daily warre doe I make, bringing my body into subiection by my fastings; the pinchings whereof are by the pleasure I take in it, expelled. Hunger & Thirst verily are painefull: they burne vp and kill like a feaver, vnlesse the physicke of nourishments relieue vs. Which, for that it is readily to bee had, out of the comfort wee receiue by thy gifts, with which both land and water, and ayre serue our necessities, are our calamities termed our delicacies. Thus much hast thou taught mee, that I am to take my meat, as sparing∣ly as I would doe my Phy∣sicke.
2. But in the while I am passing from the pinching of emptynesse, vnto the content of a competent replenishing; does that snare of lickorish∣nesse,
euen in the very passage, lie in ambush for mee: For that passage betweene, is a kinde of pleasure, nor is there any other way to passe by, but that which necessity constraines vs to goe by. And whereas health is the cause of our eating and drink∣ing, there will a dange∣rous lickorishnesse goes a-long, with health like a handmayd, yea endeauours oftentimes so to goe before it, as that I eate that for my tooths sake, which I eyther say I doe, or desire to doe, for my healths sake. Nor is there the same mode∣ration in both; for that which is enough in respect of health, is nothing neere enough in respect of lickorishnesse: yea very vncertaine it is often∣times, whether the necessary care of my body still requires sustenance, or whether a vo∣luptuous deceiueablenesse, of
Epicurisme supplies lust with maintenance. And for that this case is vncertaine, does my vnhappy soule reioyce, & prouides it thereby of a pro∣tection of excuse: reioycing for that it cannot now ap∣peare what may bee suffici∣ent for health; that so vnder the cloake of health, it may disguise the matter of Epi∣curisme.
3. These enticements doe I endeauour to resist dayly: yea I call thy right hand to help me, and to thee doe I re∣ferre my perplexities; for that I am resolued of no coun∣sell as yet, whereby to effect it. I heare the voyce of my God commanding, Let not your hearts bee ouercharged with * 1.55 surfeting and drunkennesse. As for drunkennesse, I am farre enough from it, and thou wilt haue mercy vpon mee, that it may neuer come neere
mee. But full-feeding hath many a time stolne vpon thy seruant: but thou wilt haue mercy vpon mee, that it may hereafter bee put farre from mee: for no man can bee temperate, vnlesse thou giue it. Many things thou vouch∣safest vnto vs, which wee pray for; and what good thing soeuer wee haue recei∣ued before wee pray, from thee haue we receiued it; yea to this end haue wee already receiued it, that wee might acknowledge so much after∣wards. Drunkard was I ne∣uer: but I haue knowne ma∣ny a drunkard made a sober man by thee. Thy doing therefore it is, that such should bee kept from being drunkards hereafter, who haue not beene that way faulty heeretofore; as from thee it also comes, that those should not continue
faulty for euer, who haue beene giuen to that vice heretofore: yea from thee it likewise proceedes, that both these parties should take notice, from whom all this proceeded.
4. I heard also another * 1.56 voyce of thine, Goe not after thine owne lusts, and from thine owne pleasures turne away thy face. Yea by thy fauour haue I heard this saying likewise, which I haue much deligh∣ted in, Neyther if wee eate, * 1.57 are wee the better; neyther if wee eate not, are we the worse: which is to say, that neythes shall this thing makes me rich, nor that miserable. Also an∣other voyce of thine haue I heard. For I haue learned in whatsoeuer state I am, there∣with * 1.58 to be content: and I know how to abound, and how to suf∣fer neede. I can doe all things
through Christ that strengthe∣neth me. See here b 1.59 a souldiour indeed of thy celestiall armies; on: not of the same moulds that wee are made of: but re∣member Lord that wee are dust, and that of dust thou hast * 1.60 made man, who was lost and * 1.61 is found. Nor yet could Hee doe this of his owne power, because hee was of the same dust, him I meane whom I did so heartily loue for this, say∣ing by thy inspiration, I can doe all things (sayth hee) through him that strengthe∣neth me. Strengthen me, that I may be able; giue what thou commandest, and command what thou wilt. Euen S. Paul confesses to haue receiued, and when hee glorieth, in the Lord hee glorieth. Another c 1.62 also haue I heard begging of thee, Turne from mee (sayth he) the greedynesse of the belly. By which it appeareth, O my
holy God, that the power is of thy giuing, when any thing is done which thou comman∣dest to bee done. Thou hast taught mee good Father, that Ʋnto the pure, all things are pure; but that it is euill vnto * 1.63 the man that eateth with of∣fence. And, that euery Crea∣ture * 1.64 of thine is good, and no∣thing to bee refused, which is receiued with thankesgiuing. And that meate commendeth vs not to God: And, that no * 1.65 * 1.66 man ought to iudge vs in meat or drinke. And, that hee which * 1.67 eateth, Let him not despise him that eateth not; and let not him that eateth not, iudge him that eateth. These things haue I learned, thankes and prayse bee to thee therefore, my God and Master; euen to thee that knockest at the doore of mine eares, the enlightener of my heart: doe thou deliuer mee out of all
temptation.
6. It is not any vnclean∣nesse in the meate which I feare, but the vncleannesse of mine owne gurmandi∣zing. I know, that liberty was granted vnto Noah, to eate of all kinde of flesh that was good for foode. That * 1.68 Eliah was fedde with flesh: * 1.69 that Iohn Baptist, endued with an admirable absti∣nence, * 1.70 was not polluted by those liuing creatures the Locusts, which were gran∣ted him to feede vpon. And on the other side, I know that Esau was deceiued by longing after the potage of * 1.71 Lintels: and that Dauid was blamed by himselfe for desi∣ring * 1.72 a draught of water: and that our King was tempted, not concerning flesh, but bread; * 1.73 and the people in the wil∣dernesse therefore deserued
to bee reprooued, not so much for desiring flesh, but for murmuring against the Lord, out of a lust to lickorish meats. My selfe therefore amidst * 1.74 these temptations doe striue dayly against mine owne ap∣petite of eating and drinking. For tis not of such a nature, as that I am able to resolue to cut my selfe short of it once for all, and neuer to touch it afterward, as I was able to doe concerning carnall copu∣lation. The brydle of the throat therefore is to be held betweene a temperate slack∣nesse and a stiffenesse: and who is he, O Lord, that is not some whit transported beyond the lists of necessity? what euer hee is, a great man hee is; and let him magnifie thy name for it. But for mine owne part, I am not the man, for that I am a sinner. Yet doe I magnifie thy name too; yea, and Her
makes intercession to thee for my sinnes, who hath ouer∣come the world; who ac∣counts mee among the weake members of his body; be∣cause thine eyes haue seene my * 1.75 substance being yet vnperfect, and in thy booke were all my members written.
1. AS for the tempting de∣light of sweete-smels, I am not too much taken with it. When I misse them, I doe not seeke them; when I may haue them, I doe not refuse them: yea alwayes indifferent I am, alwayes to bee without them: At least to my selfe I seeme to bee, though per∣chance deceiued I may bee. For euen that naturall darke∣nesse
is much to be lamented, wherein the knowledge of mine owne abilities so farre lies concealed; as that when my soule makes enquiry in∣to her selfe concerning her owne powers, it conceyues it not safe, too lightly to giue credit vnto it selfe; because that what is already in it, l••es many times so closely muffled vp, as nothing but experience can reueale it; nor ought any man to bee secure in this lift, (which may well bee called one continued temptation) whether that hee whom it hath beene possible of worse to make better, may not like∣wise of better, be made a 1.76 worse againe. Our onely hope, our onely confidence, the onely assured promise that we haue, is thy mercy.
1. THe delights of mine cares verily, haue here∣tofore more strongly inuci∣gled and ingaged mee; but thou hast brought me off, and freed mee. Yet still at hearing of those Ayers which thy words breat he soule into, whē∣as they are sung with a well tuned and a well-gouerned voyce; I doe, I confesse, re∣ceiue a little contentment: not so great though, as that I am enchanted by it, but that I can goe away when I please. But yet for all this, that those Ayers may together with these words (by vertue of which they receiue life) gaine full admission with mee; doe they aspire to be entertained
into a place of no meane ho∣nour in this heart of mine. Nor can I scarce affoord them a roome be fitting for them. At another time forsooth doe I seeme to my selfe to attri∣bute more respect vnto them then is seemely; yea euen whilest together with those sacred ditties I perceiue these mindes of ours to bee farre more religiously and zealous∣ly a 1.77 blown vp vnto a flame of deuotion, whenas these ditties * 1.78 are thus sung; then they would haue been, had they not been so sung: yea and I perceiue with∣all, how that the seuerall affec∣tions of our spirit, according to a sweete variety, haue their proper Moodes answerable to them in the voyce and singing, by I know not what secret familiarity whereof, they bee stirred vp.
2. But this contentment of my flesh, (vnto which it
is not fit to giue ouer my soule to bee effeminated:) doeth very oft beguile mee; when (namely) the sence goes not so respectfully a∣long with the reason, that it can with any patience endure to come behinde it; but vpon this consideration onely, that because Reason for the Sences sake gaynd admission; there∣fore would the contentment of the Sence, euen runne be∣fore Reason, and bee her leader. Thus in these things I sometimes sinne by sur∣prize, but afterwards I finde mine owne fault. A∣gaine at another time tho∣rough an indiscreete weary∣nesse of being inueigled, doe I erre out of too precise a seuerity: yea very fierce b 1.79 am I sometimes, in the desire of hauing the melo∣dy of all pleasant Musicke, (to which Dauids Psal∣ter
is so often sung (bani∣shed both from mine owne eares, and out of the whole Church too: yea and the sa∣fer way it seem'd vnto mee, which I remember to haue beene often told me of Atha∣nasius Bishop of Alexandria, who caused the Reader of the Psalme to sound it forth, with so little warbling of the voyce, as that it was neerer to pronouncing, then to sing∣ing.
3. Notwithstanding so of∣ten as I call to mind the teares I shed at the hearing of thy Church-songs, in the begin∣ning of my a 1.80 recouered fayth; yea and at this very time, whenas I am moued, not with the singing, but with the thing sung, (when namely they are set off with a cleare voyce and skilfully gouerned) I then acknowledge the great good vse of this institution.
Thus floate I betweene perill of pleasure, and an approoued profitable custome: enclined the more (though herein I pro∣nounce no irreuocable opini∣on) to allow of the old vsage of singing in the Church; that so by the delight taken in at the eares, the weaker mindes may be rowzed vp into some fee∣ling of deuotion. And yet a∣gaine, so oft as it befalls me to be more mou'd with the voyce then with the ditty, I confesse my selfe to haue grieuously of∣fended: at which time I wish rather not to haue heard the musicke. See now in what a perplexity I am! weepe with me, and weepe for mee, O all you, who inwardly feele any thoughts, whence good acti∣ons doe proceede. As for you that feele none such, these things moue not you. But thou O Lord my God, looke vpon mee, hearken, and be∣hold,
and pitty, and heale me thou, in whose eyes I am now become a 1.81 a torture to my selfe, and thats the perplexity I lan∣guish vpon.
1. THere remaines the plea∣sures of these eyes of my flesh, concerning which I am now to make this Confession vnto thee; which let the cares of thy temple, those brotherly and deuour eares, well hear∣ken vnto; that with it wee
may conclude our discourse, concerning the temptations of the lusts of the flesh, which as yet sollicite mee, groaning earnestly, and desiring to be cloa∣thed vpon with my house from heauen. Mine eyes take de∣light in fayre formes, and va∣rieties of them: in beautifull and pleasant colours. Suffer not these to hold possession in my soule; let my God ra∣ther be Lord of it, who made all these: very good they bee indeede, yet is Hee my good, and not they. Verily, these entice mee broade waking euery day, nor finde I any rest from these sights, as I haue had often, when si∣lence was kept after sweete voyces. For this Queene of Colours, the light, shedding it selfe into all whateuer wee behold, so oft as I enioy the day light, glyding by myne eye in its varyed
formes, doth most sweetely inueigle mee, wholy busiec about another matter, and ta∣king no notice of it. For it so forcibly insinuates it selfe, that if at any time it sudden∣ly bee withdrawne, it is with much longing lookt after a∣gaine; and if missing too long, it besaddeth the minde. O thou light, which Tobias * 1.82 beheld, when with his eyes cloazd vp, hee directed his sonne the way to life; him∣selfe going before with the feete of charity, neuer mislea∣ding him: Or that light which Isaac beheld, when as his * 1.83 fleshly eyes being dimme, so that hee could not see, hee bles∣sed his sonnes, not able to discerne which was which; though in blessing of them, he deserued to haue discern'd them. Or that light which Iacob beheld, when taken blinde in his old age, he, with
an illuminated heart, in the persons of his owne sonnes, gaue light vnto the fortunes of the seuerall families of peo∣ple, * 1.84 foresignified to be dery∣ued from them: and as when hee layd his hands vpon his grandchildren by Ioseph, my∣stically layd a-crosse, not as their father by his outward eye corrected them, but as himselfe by a beame of light from within, wittingly dis∣cerned them, This is the light indeed; yea the onely light, nor is there any other: aye, and all those are one, who see and loue that light. As for this corporeall light which I now spake of; it a 1.85 be-sawces this present life for her blinde louers, with a tempting and a dangerous sweetnesse: where∣as those that know how to prayse thee for that light, doe spend it O, God all-Creator, in singing thy hymnes, and are
not taken vp from it, in their sleepe. Thus desire I to be em∣ployed.
3 These seducements of the eyes do I manfully resist, lest my feete wherewith I am to enter vpon my way, should be ensnared; yea and I lift vp mine inuisible eyes vnto thee, that thou wouldst be pleased to plucke my feete out of that snare: yea thou doest euer and anon plucke them out, for they are ensnared. Thou ceasest not to plucke them out; though I entangle my selfe at euery snare that is layd: because thou that keepest Israel, shalt neyther * 1.86 slumber nor sleepe. Oh how in∣numerable toyes made by di∣uers Arts and manufactures, both in our apparell, shooes, vessels and such like workes; in pictures also and diuers feigned images, yea and these farre exceeding all necessary
and moderate vse, and all pi∣ous significations, haue men added to tempt their owne eyes withall: outwardly fol∣lowing after what themselues make, inwardly forsaking him by wom themselues were made; yea defacing a 1.87 that I∣mage, in which themselues were once made.
4. For mine owne part, O my God and my beauty, I euen therefore dedicate an hymne vnto thee, and doe sacrifice prayse vnto my Sanctifier; be∣cause of those beautifull pat∣ternes which through mens soules are conueighed into their cunning hands; which all descend from that beauty, wch is aboue our soules, which my soule day and night sighed after. But as for these framers & followers of those outward beauties, they from thence
deriue the manner of liking them, but fetch not from thence the measure of vsing them. And yet there it is (though they perceiue it not) that they might not goe too farre to seeke it, but might preserue their strength onely for thee, and not weare it out vpon tyring delicates. But for my owne part, (who both discourse vpon, and well dis∣cerne these things) I verily bend my steps towards these outward Beauties: but thou pluckest mee backe, O Lord, thou pluckest me backe; be∣cause thy mercy is before mine eyes. For I am miserably taken, and thou as mercifully pluckest mee backe; and that sometimes when I perceiued thee not; because I ha•••• too earnestly settled my thoughts vpon them: and otherwhiles grieued to part with them,
because my affections had al∣ready cleaued to them.
1. VPon this, another forme of temptation assayles mee; and that many wayes more dangerous. For besides that concupiscence of the flesh, which lurketh in the delight of all our Sences and pleasures, (which those that are slanes vnto, bee mad in loue with; those namely, that withdraw themselues farre from thee:) there is con∣ueighed into the soule by the same Sences of the body, a certaine vayne and curious itch; not of delight-taking in the flesh, but of making ex∣periments
by helpe of the flesh; which is masked vn∣der the title of Knowledge and Learning. Which, because it is seated in the naturall Ap∣petite of Knowing, and that for the attaining of know∣ledge, the eyes bee the prin∣cipall of all the Sences; is in holy writ called, The lust of * 1.88 the eyes: For to see, belon∣geth vnto the eyes properly: yet wee apply the word of Seeing to other sences also, wheneuer wee imploy them towards knowing. For wee doe not say, Hearke how red it is, or smell how white it is; or taste how shining it is; or feele how bright it is; because all these are sayd to bee seene: and yet wee say not onely, See how it shineth, which the eyes alone can per∣ceiue: but wee say also, See how it soundeth, See how
it smelleth, See how it ta∣steth, See how hard it is. The generall experience of the Sences thereof is it, (as was sayde before) which is cal∣led The lust of the eyes: for that the office of Seeing, wherein the Eyes hold the prerogatiue, doe the other Sences by way of simili∣tude, vsurpe vnto them∣selues, when-so-euer they make search after any know∣ledge.
2. But by this may the difference euidently bee dis∣cerned, betwixt the pleasure and the Curiosity that bee ac∣ted by the Sences; for that pleasure affecteth Obiects that bee beautifull, cleare-sounding, sweete-smelling, sauoury-tasted, soft-touching: whereas Curiosity for tryals sake, pryes into Obiects cleane contrary to the former:
not to engage it selfe in the trouble they bring, but meer∣ly out of an itch of gayning the knowledge and experi∣ence of them. For what plea∣sure hath it, to see that in a torne carcasse, which would strike a horror into a man? and yet if any such bee neere lying, they all flocke to it, e∣uen of purpose to bee made sad, and to grow pale at it: being afrayd also, lest they should see it in their sleepe; as if some-body had forced them to goe and see it while they were awake, or any re∣port of the fine sight had per∣swaded them vnto it. And thus is it in the other sences al∣so, all which it were too long to prosecute. And out of this disease of curiosity, are all those strange sights presented to vs in the Theater. Hence men proceede to make disco∣uery of those concealed pow∣ers
of nature (which is be∣sides our end) which does them no good to know, and wherein men desire nothing but to know. Hence proceeds that also, if out of the same outward end of knowing, the magicall Arts be made vse of to enquire by. Vpon this cu∣riosity also euen in religion it selfe, is God tempted; when (namely) certaine signes and wonders from heauen are de∣manded of him: not desired for any sauing end, but meere∣ly for our experience.
3. In this so vast a wildernes, so full of snares and dangers; see how many of them I haue cut off, and thrust out of my heart, according as thou, O God of my saluation, hast giuen me the grace to doe. And yet for all this, when is the time that I dare boldly say, (so many of this kind of things daily im∣portuning this life of ours:)
when may I boldly say, that my selfe is by no such like thing prouoked to looke to∣wards it, or out of a vayne•• desire to couet it? True it is, that the Theaters doe not now adayes carry mee away▪ nor doe I much now regard to know the courses of the starres; nor hath my soule at any time enquired answeres at the Ghosts departed: all sacrilegious compacts I vt∣terly detest. But at thy hands, O Lord my God, to whom I owe all humble and single∣hearted seruice, by what fet∣ches of suggestions hath that spirituall Enèmy deal: with mee, to desire some signe?
4. But a 1.89 by our King I be∣seech thee, and by that coun∣try of Ierusalem so pure and chasté; that like as any con∣senting vnto such thoughts hath beene hitherto farre e∣nough
from mee, so euer let it bee further and fur∣ther. But for the health of any when I entreate thee, the end of my intention then is farre different from the former: and thy selfe doing what thou pleasest in it, giuest mee the grace, and willingly euer wilt giue mee, to obey it.
Notwithstanding, in how many petty and contempti∣ble trifles is this curiosity of ours, dayly tempted: and how often, wee doe slip that way, who is able to recount? How often when people tell vaine stories, doe wee at first beare with them, as it were for feare of giuing offence to the weake; and yet by degrees by and by, wee willingly giue eare to them? I become not the spectator now a dayes of a dogges coursing of a Hare in the publike b 1.90 game-place: but if in the field I by chance
ryde by, such a sport may, per aduenture, put mee off from some seriouser thought, and draw mee after it: not to turne out of the roade with the body of my horse, but yet with the inclination of my heart: yea, and didst not thou, by making me see my infirmi∣tie on the sudden, giue mee a priuate Item; or vpon the sight it selfe, by some contem∣plation to rayse my selfe to∣wards thee, wholy to de∣spise and passe it by; vaynel should presently bee besotted with it.
5. What shall I say, when∣as sitting in mine own house, a Lizard catching flyes, or a Spider entangling them in her nets, oft-times makes mee too intentiue to them? Be∣cause these are but small crea∣tures, is the curiosity in mee the lesse? I proceed hereup∣on to laud Thee the wonder∣full
Creator & disposer of all; but that is not the occasion of my beginning to be intentiue to them. One thing it is to get vp quickly, and another thing, not to fall at all. And of such toyes, is my life full, and my onely hope is in thy won∣derfull great mercy. For when this heart of ours is made the Receipt of such things, and ouer-charges it selfe with the throngs of this superabundant vanity; then are our Prayers thereby often interrupted & distracted; and whilest in thy presence wee direct the voyce of our heart vp vnto thine eares; that so important a businesse is bro∣ken off, by I know not what idle thoughts rushing in vp∣on vs.
1. BVt did I account of this also, amongst such things as are to bee contem∣ned? or shall aught bring vs backe to our hope, but the whole Summe of thy mercy, sith thou it is that hast begun to change vs? And in what degree thou hast already a∣mended mee, thy selfe best knowest; who didst first of all rcouer me from that bur∣ning desire of reuenging my selfe: that so thou mightest the better bee fauourable vnto all my other iniquities, and heale all my infirmities, & redeeme my life from corruption, and crowne me with thy pitty and mercy, and satisfie my de∣sire with good things: euen
because thou hast curbed my pride with thy feare, and ta∣med my necke to thy yoake. Which now I beare, and it is light vnto mee; because so hast thou promised, and so hast thou made it: and verily so it was, but I knew it not, for that I feared to take it.
2 But tell mee now, O Lord, (thou who onely raignest without the ruffe of pride; because thou onely art the true Lord, who hast no Lord:) tell me; hath this third kinde of temptation giuen me ouer, or can it altogether forbeare mee in this life; this namely, To desire to bee feared and lo∣ued of men, and that for no other end, but that wee may re∣ceiue a priuate reioycing in it? which indeede is no true ioy. A miserable life this is, and a dishonorable kinde of brag∣ging. For hence especially
it comes, That men do neyther * 1.91 purely loue, nor feare thee. And euen therefore too doest then resist the proud, and gonest grace vnto the humble: yea, thou thunderest downe vpon the ambitious designes of this world, and the foundations of the mountaines tremble at it. Because now of performing certaine effices amongst hu∣mane society, it is necessary both to bee loued and feared of men, euen therefore doth the aduersary of our true bles∣sednesse lay hard at vs, euery where spreading his snares of Well-done, well-done; which whilest wee too eagerly ga∣ther vp, we may bee vnawares taken in them, and brought to disioynt our reioycing from thy truth, and to settle it i•• the deceiving opinions of men; pleasing our selues with being loued and feared, not for thy sake, but in thy stead:
by which deuice the aduersa∣ry may make vs his owne, wee being so neerely confor∣med vnto him already; not ioy∣ned with him in any concord of charity, but into the fel∣lowship of punishment: e∣uen of him, who aspired to aduance his throane in the North; that people follow∣ing * 1.92 him in his wrye and croo∣ked wayes, and become all darkned and befrozen, might be made his vassalls.
3. But wee, O Lord, behold, wee are thy little flocke; keepe thou still the possession of vs: stretch thy wings ouer vs, and let vs flye vnder them. Bee thou our glorying; Let vs bee beloued for thy sake, and let thy Word be feared in vs. Whoeuer is ambitious to becommended of men, when thou discommendest him; let him not bee defended of men, when thou indgest him; nor
deliuered, when thou cōdem∣nest him. When now a sinner misses of his so cordially de∣sired commendations, and the euill doer hath not the good word of the people; on the contrary, when another man being well spoken of for some good parts which thou hast giuen him; yet pleases himselfe better in the hearing of his owne prayses then in the good parts, for which he is commended: this man also as well as the other, is discom∣mended by thee, euen whilest hee is commended by men. Yea, better is the commender then the commended: seeing to the one, the gift of God be∣stowed on man was pleasing: but the other was better plea∣sed with the gift of man, then of God.
1. ASSayled dayly wee are by these temptations, O Lord; yea wee are assaulted incessantly. The furnace wee be dayly tryed in, is the tongue of men. And in this kinde also thou commandest vs to bee continent. Giue what thou commandest, and command what thou wilt. Thou know∣est what groanes my heart, and floods mine eyes, ••end vp vnto thee for this. For ea∣sily can I not discerne how cleansed I am, more or lesse, from this pollution: yea, and doe I much feare my secret sinnes, which thine eyes per∣ceiue well enough, though mine cannot. For in other kinds of temptations. I haue
the ability (such as it is) of thorowly examining my selfe: but in this, scarce any at all. For, from the pleasures of the flesh, and from the superflu∣ous curiosity of knowing, I well perceiue how much I haue gained vpon my selfe, in the refrayning of my minde: whenas (namely) I want the things themselues; or the Will, when the things are away; or the necessity, when they are not to be had: for then can I ask my selfe how troublesome it is vnto mee more or lesse, not to haue them? But as for riches, which are for this end desired, that they may serue a man in some one of these three a 1.93 Concupiscences, or in any two, or all of them; if the soule bee not able to dis∣cerne, whether, when it hath them, it can contemne them; they may bee cast aside, that a man may make
experience of himselfe that way.
2. But for the enabling of our selues to want prayse, and for making tryall what wee can doe in that kinde, is it our course to liue ill, so desperately and out of all compasse, that euery body that knowes vs, may detest vs? what madder tricke can eyther be sayd, or thought of? But now if Prayse both vseth, and ought to bee the com∣panion of a good life and of good workes; wee ought as little to for goe that Compa∣ny, as this good life. For I ney∣ther know, whom I can well be without, or how well or ill contented, vnlesse when hee is absent. What shall I there∣fore confesse vnto thee in this kind of temptation, O Lord? What, but that I am very much delighted with mine owne praises:
but yet with the truth, more then with the prayses? For were I put to my choyce, whether I would play the mad man, or the foole in euery thing, and bee generally com∣mended for it; or bee well set∣led and most assured of being in the rights, and bee gene∣rally discommended for it: I see straight what I would choose.
3. Yet vnwilling I am, that the praise giuen mee by ano∣ther mans mouth, should en∣crease my ioy for any good I haue; and yet doth prayse not onely encrease it, but disprayse doth diminish it. And when much troubled I am at this hard case of mine, I presently bethinke my selfe of an ex∣cuse; which how sufficient it is, God thou knowest, for it leaues mee vncertaine. And for because thou hast not com∣manded vs Continency alone,
that is, from what things wee should refrayne our loue: but Iustice also; that is, which way wee should bestow that loue: and, that it is not th•• will to haue vs loue thee one∣ly, but our neighbour also: doe I oftentimes seeme vnto my selfe to bee delighted with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 proficiency or toward 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of my neighbour, when I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 delighted with the commen∣dations giuen me by him, that vnderstands what hee sayes; and I am sorry againe for this want in him, when I heare him disprayse eyther that which hee vnderstands not, or what is good. For I am some∣times very sorry at mine owne prayses, when (namely) those things bee praysed in mee, in which I mistake my selfe, or that lesser and lighter good things in mee are more estee∣med, then in reason they ought to bee.
4. But how againe come I to know this? am I therfore thus affected, bcause I would not haue my commender dissent frō me in things that concerne my selfe; not for that I am mo∣ued with the care of his good, but for that the same good things in me which very well please mee, are the more plea∣sing to me, when they are so al∣so to another? For in some sort I am not then praysed, when mine owne iudgement of my selfe is not commended: for as∣much as eyther those things are praysed wch please me not at all; or those are too much commended, which please me but a little. Am I therfore vn∣certayne of my selfe in this matter? Behold, O Truth, in thee I see it; that I ought not so much to be moued at mine owne prayses, for mine owne sake; as for the good of my neighbour. And whether so I
be, or not, verily I know not For I know lesse of my selfe in this, then Thou doest.
5. I beseech now, O my God, discouer mee vnto my selfe, that I may confesse vnto my brethren who are to pray for me, what I now finde my selfe defectiue in. Once againe let me more diligently aske my selfe: if so I be moued with the good of my brethren in mine owne prayses, why then am I lesse moued at another mans being vniustly discommended then at mine owne? Why am I more nettled with that re∣proach which is cast vpon my selfe, then at that which is cast vpon another in my presence, for the same fault? Am I igno∣rant of this also? or is this it at last that I should now seduce my selfe, and neyther thinke nor speake what is Trueth before thee? This madnesse put farre from mee, O Lord. * 1.94
lest mine owne mouth prooue the oyle of sinners vnto mee to breake my head. I am poore and needy: yet in better case, whilest in my, priuate groa∣ning I displease my selfe, and seeke for thy mercy; vntill my wants bee supplyed, and per∣fectly made vp into such an e∣state of peace, which the eye of the proud is not acquainted withall.
1. THereport of the peoples mouthes, and our own famously knowne actions, car∣ry along with them that most dangerous temptation of the loue of praise: which, for the aduancing of a certaine pri¦uate excellency of our owne, endeauours to draw vnto it selfe, the poorely beg'd voyces
of the people; And that, at such time too, whenas I say a secret blame vpon my selfe for it: yea, euen in that very par∣ticular, for which I reprehend it. For with a greater vanity does a man glory oftentimes, of his contemning of vaine-glory; for which reason hee cannot be sayd to glory, in his contempt of vaine-glory: for Hee does not truely contemne it, who inwardly glories at it.
1. THere is yet another p••i∣uie disease in the same kinde of temptation, where with such people puffe them¦selues vp, as take pleasure in themselues, howeuer other be pleased or displeased; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in the regarding to please 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••o••kes. These may please them∣selues; but thee doe they dis|
please highly: not onely for pleasing themselues in things not good, as if they were good; but also for so doing in thy gifts as if they were their owne: or if as thine, yet as giuen them for their owne merits: or, if also as proceeding from thy meere grace, and not their de∣seruings; yet not as neyghbor∣ly reioycing, but as enuying others for it. In all these perils and trauels, and others of the like kind, thou seest, O Lord, a trembling of my heart: yea and I well feele my wounds to be by thy selfe rather cured in mee, then not inflicted vpon me.
1. WHere hast thou not gon along with me, O thou Truth, teaching me both what to beware, and what to desire; when I once made report vnto
thee of the surueigh I had ta∣ken of these things below, (so wel as I could) & askt thy ad∣uice vpō them? With my out∣ward sences so wel as I might) I took a master of this world; being heedfull aboue all, vnto this bodily life of mine, these Sences of mine owne. Thence turned I inwardly into the with drawing chambers of my memory, those many fold large roomes, so wonderfully well furnished of innumerable vari∣eties, I considered, and stood amazed; being able to discerne nothing without thy help, yet finding none of all the ••••to be thy selfe. Nor was I the finder of these things, I, who went them ouer all, and who now la∣bored to distinguish & to vs∣lew euery thing according to its proper worth: taking some things vpon the report of my Sences, & working out other things that were of a mixt
nature, by way of Dialogue with mine owne selfe; yea and taking particular notice and tale of the a 1.95 Reporters them∣selues; & anon throughly can∣uassing ouer those other things layd vp in the large treasury of my memory, storing vp some of them there againe, and for my vse drawing out the rest.
2. Neyther was I my selfe who did all this, (that is, that ability of mine owne by which I did it;) no nor was that abi∣lity it selfe, the same that thou art: for thou art that neuer∣saying light, which concer∣ning all these I still aduised with all; what her they were, what they were, and how to be 〈◊〉〈◊〉 they were: For ••ouch heard thee directing and com∣manding life 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and this I doe very 〈…〉〈…〉. This is delights me; yea and 〈…〉〈…〉 loose 〈◊〉〈◊〉 what 〈◊〉〈◊〉 necessity ••••ies vpon me, vnto th•••• plea∣sure
haue I recourse. For in all these which I thus runne ouer by thy directions, can I not finde any one safe place to set∣tle my soule in, but in thy selfe onely; into whom let all my scattered pieces be gathe∣red together; nor let any thing of mine bee turnd backe from thee. At some times thou in∣wardly infusest into mee a de∣light that I am not vsually ac∣quainted with, a ••••ee••••nesse of I know not what kinde: which, could it bee once perfected in me, it should be I know not what manner of height; which this life shall neuer arriue vnto. But by cer∣tayne 〈◊〉〈◊〉 some weights a•••• I tumbled downe againe, yea quite swallowed vp by mine old wort, and fast holden by it 〈…〉〈…〉 I bewayre my selfe••: yet strongly am luistil h••••d downe Such power 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the but then of a bad custome,
to ouerloade a man. In this e∣state I am able to stay, but vn∣willing: in the other I would willingly bee, but am not able: thus am I miserable in both conditions.
1. I Considered therfore the ill-disposed habite of my Sinne, in that threefold a 1.96 con∣cupiscence: and I called thy right hand to my helpe. With a wounded heart haue I beheld thy Brightnesse, and b••ing beaten backe, I sayd, Who can attaine thither? I am cast away * 1.97 from the sight of thine eyes: Thou art the Truth which sittest president ouer all. Loth I was through my couetous∣nesse, to forgoe thee; but gladly would I together with thee, haue possessed a lye: like
as no man there 〈◊〉〈◊〉 desirous to speake safely 〈…〉〈…〉 that him∣selfe may be hindred ••y it from knowing the truth. Verily therefore haue I lost thee, because thou vouchsafest not to be enioyed together with a lye.
1. WHom could I finde to reconcile my selfe vnto thee by? was that office to be vndertaken by an Angell? vp∣on what prayers? by what Sa∣craments? Many a man ende∣uouring to returne vnto thee, and being not able of himselfe; hath, as I heere, made tryall of this way: but hath fallen into the desire of curious visions; being worthy there∣fore to bee deluded. For they being high-minded, haue sought thee in the pride
of their learning, strutting out rather, then knocking vp on their brests: and so by the agreement of their heart haue they drawne vnto themselues the Princes of the Ayre, their fellow conspirators in pride; by whom through the force of Magick, they were decerued, euen while they sought for a Mediator, b 1.98 by whom they might bee purged: but there was none to be found; For the diuel it was, transfiguring now himselfe into an Angel of light.
2. Many wayes therefore was hee able to entice proud flesh, for that him selfe was not of any fleshly body. For fleshly men were mortall, and sinnefulli; but thou, Lord, to whom they this proud way
sought to be reconciled, art im∣mortall, and without sinne. A mediator (now) betweene God and man, must haue something like vnto God, and something like vnto men; lest, that being like vnto man in both natures, he should be too farre vnlike God: or if like vn∣to God in both natures, hee should be too farre vnlike vn∣to men: and so be a Mediator neyther way. That deceitfull * 1.99 Mediator therfore, by whom in thy secret iudgement mans pride deserued to be deluded, hath one thing indeed com∣mon with himselfe to men, and thats Sinne: and desires to seem to communicate in ano∣ther thing with God; that because hee is not cloathed with any mortality of flesh, he might thereby vaunt him∣selfe to bee immortall. But for that the wages of sin is death, * 1.100 this hath he common to him∣selfe
with men, for which he might together with them •••• condemned vnto death.
1. BVt the true Mediator, whom out of thy secret mercy thou hast shewed forth vnto the humble; and whom thou sentest, that by his example they might learne the true humility: that a 1.102 Me∣diator therefore betweene God and man, the man Christ Iesus, appeared betwixt mortall sin∣ners and the immortall Iust One: being mortall as men, and iust like God: that because the reward of righteousnesse is life and peace, hee might by his righteousnesse which was ioyned to God, make voyd the death of as many of the wic∣ked, as were by him iustified, which death, his will was to
haue common both to them and him. Hee was shewed forth vnto Holy men of old; to the intent that they might be saued, through sayth in his passion to come, like as wee are through sayth of it alrea∣dy passed. For how farre-forth he was a man, so far-forth was hee a Mediator: but so farre-forth as he is the Word, hee is not meerely midway to God, because he is equall vnto God, and God with God; & together with the Holy Ghost one God.
2. How hast thou loued vs, O good Father, that hast not spared thine onely Sonne, but hast deliuered him vnto death for vs wicked men? how hast thou loued vs; for whom, Hee that thought it no robbery to bee equall with God, was made subiect vnto death, e∣uen the death of the crosse? hee that was onely free among the * 1.103 dead, that had power to lay * 1.104 * 1.105
downe his life, and power to take it againe: for vs was hee vnto thee both the Conquerour, and the Sacrifice: yea and there∣fore the Conquerour, because the Sacrifice: for vs was hee vnto thee both Priest and Sa∣crifice: and therefore the Priest, because the Sacrifice: of slaues making vs thy chil∣dren, by being borne of thee, and by becomming a seruant vnto vs. Deseruedly therefore is my hope strongly setled vp∣on him; that thou wilt by him cure all my infirmities: euen by him that sits at thy right hand, and maketh intercession for vs; whereas otherwise, I should despaire vtterly. For many and great are those in∣firmities of mine, yea many they are and great; but thy medicine is more soue∣raigne.
3. Imagine we might, that thy Word was farre enough
from being vnited with man; and so despayre of our selues, vnlesse It had beene made flesh and dwelt amongst vs. Affrigh∣ted * 1.106 thus with mine owne sinnes & the burthen of mine owne misery, I cast these thoughts in my heart, be∣thinking my selfe of fleeing into the b 1.107 Wildernesse: but thou for baddest me, and strengthe∣nedst mee, saying: Therefore Christ dyed for all, that they which liue, may now no longer liue vnto themselues, but vnto him that dyed for them. See, Lord, I hence forth cast all my care vpon thee, that I may liue, and consider the wonder∣full things, of thy law. Thou knowest both my vnskilful∣nesse, and my infirmities; Oh teach me, and heale mee. That onely Sonne of thine, in whom are hid all the treasures of wis∣dome and knowledge, hath re∣deemed mee with his blood. * 1.108 * 1.109
Let not the proud speake euill of mee now; for that I medi∣tate vpon the price of my re∣demption, and do eate & drink and giue vnto the poore; and being poore my selfe, desire to be filled by him, amongst those that eate, and are satisfied, and they shall praise the Lord who * 1.110 seeke him.
1 Co. 13. 12
Eph. 5. 27.
1 Cor. 2. 11
Ps. ••••4: 11.
Where be Merits then? This is right Protestant diuinity.
Psal. 51. 1.
1 Cor: 4. 3.
1 Cor 2. 11
1 Cor. 13. 12.
•• Cor. 5. 6.
1 Cor. 10 3.
Ps. 139. 1
Here hath the former Translater neglected this of con∣science.
Rom. 9. 15.
Here sets he downe the Obiects and plea∣sures of the fiue Sen∣ces.
An old Philosopher
What he meanes by Intention, see in our Marginall note lib. 7. cap. 1. pag 342. like a Philosopher he puts In∣tention and Species to∣gether. He meanes, that their hauing a shape and figure, shewed them not to bee Gods. This is con∣trary to the Manichees.
Renuncia∣bant. This he trans∣lates, gaue place, igno¦rantly. See our note on lib 7. c. 17. pa. 396
The 5. outward Sences represent what they see, heare, &c. vnto the 3. in∣ward Sen∣ces: and then Rea∣son takes the report or intelli∣gence, and makes iudgemēt, and giues direction according∣ly. The o∣ther Trans∣later is much out here, for want of a very little Philosophy.
Psal. 32. ••.
The Touch, which hath no proper Sea•• or Or∣gan, as the other 4 Sences haue, but is diffused all the bo∣dy ouer.
Of this sentence my Trans∣later hath made very able Non∣sence.
Here he leaues out what hee could not conster.
Here by putting in of Onely, he quite marres the sense.
Sicut vox impressa, per oures vestigio quo quasi sonaret, cúm iam non sonaret The for∣mer Trans∣lateris lost; makes a meere noyse one∣ly. Vestigium is that impression, scale or marke, that a thing leaues behinde it, which in Songs, Mu∣sicions call the Ayer. The print of the hares foote, is the vestigium to the dogs eye; but the sent left in it, is the vestigium to his nose. The memory (that is the bearing still in minde) needs not this: but tis the remembring or the recalling to me∣mory that needs this vestigium, to discourse and hunt vpon, for recouery of the lost notion.
The Species be the fore notes or notions of things. Scaliger. And these Species be indeed in the Soule, not diffused through∣out all, but seated in the vnder∣standing principally Aristotle l. 3. de Ani∣ma, cap. 4. which vn∣derstanding is the Intel∣lectiue me∣mory.
For Spe∣cies Inten∣tionales, See the Philoso∣phers See •••••• note vp∣on pag. 3. ••2
He ap∣peares to be of the Platonist mind, and that to Know was nothing but to Remember.
The brayne hath no Cell to put forgotten notions in.
Hee meanes, that to thinke or meditate vpon a note, is to gather to∣gether the scattered notions of it.
For the Dimensions were Thick and Broad, but the lines, ney∣ther.
I read it variae sunt, and not valde sunt as the printed copyes haue it.
Sicut sese habet vis memoriae. This he turnes. As that it de∣scendeth onely vpon the force of the memory.
A second doubt.
A third doubt.
Nuntiata.
Here the other Translater negligent∣ly mis-read his copie.
Adam
I reade, Quod ip∣sum gaudi∣um; instead of At{que} ip∣sum gaudi∣um; alte∣ring the confused interpunc∣tions and poyntings.
My MS. reades it Sane in stead of An, with∣out an in∣terroga∣tiue. else is the sense imperfect. Gal. 5. 17.
Some compies reade it Na frangat roler anti∣am, and o∣thers, nau∣fragat.
Ait qui∣dam The pi••ce quo ••ed 〈…〉〈…〉 which slight men∣••t••ning of the Au∣thor, hee giues vs to note, that he did not ranke this booke of Wisedome among the Canonicall Scriptures; nor quoted it as Gods word, but mans. One sayth St Augustine honors these Apocryphall bookes oftentimes by quoting them: but does not Canonize them. This same One sayth, hath the Popish Translater left out, as seeming too slight a phrase for his vneanonicall Apocry∣pha.
1 Ioh. 2. 16.
the popish Translater notes, That chaslity is better then marriage. But does that ap∣peare by this pas∣sage? per∣chance to those that haue the gift of con∣ti••ency (as St. Austen now had) it is indeed, nay it had been a sinne for him to haue marryed: but for others, it is better to marry then to burne.
Imagines animales.
Eph. 3. 20.
1 Cor. 15. 54.
Math. 6. 34
1 Cor. 6. 13
1 Cor. 15. 54.
Luke 21. 34.
Ezek. 18.
1 Cor 8. 8
Phil. 4. 11, 12.
Hee meanes St. Paul: who spake this.
Gen. 3.
Luk. 15. 32
The place is found in Ecclesiasti∣cus 23. 5. 6. which be∣ing Apo∣cryph all he quotes not the Author so reue∣rently as he did St. Paul euen now: See our note vpon cap. 29.
Titus 1. 15
Ro. 14. 20
1 Tim. 4. 4.
1 Cor. 8. 8.
Rom. 14. 13
Gen. 9. 3.
1 King 17. 9
Math. 3. 4.
Gen. 25. 34
2 Sam. 23. 15, &c.
Math. 4. 3.
Num. 11. 14
Psa. 139. 16
Hence the Popish Translater obserues, That no man can be sure of his soluation. But is that to be pro∣ued from this place? St. Austen meanes, That he best man is not se∣cured from falling in to sin, thats all. But plainely hee hath translated ill.
The ex∣cellent vse of Church musicke skilfully handled.
He meanes that as the moodes or time of the musicke be eyther sad or cheerful, so is sad∣nesse or cheerful∣nesse of Spirit Pro∣cured. The other Translater hath made no Mu∣sick here.
St. Austen had some Purita∣nicall thoughts now and then, ob∣iected to him by fleshly, wisedome, which, reason and deuotion presently againe put out of him.
His mo∣ther bred him vp in the true fayth: then the Maniches corrupted him; from whom hee was new∣ly now re∣ouered.
Mihi quae∣stio factus sum. Quae∣stio was the ••ortures vsed to the Christians by the per∣secutors: so called, for that they be∣gun with this questi∣on, Art thou a Christian? So Saint Cyprian Epist. 9. ••olerastis durissi∣••••am quae stionem, nec, cessistis supplieijs. And In dolore patientes, in quaestione victores. This the other Translater turnes. In whose eyes I know not how I stand. Take which you please.
Tob. 4.
Gen 27. 1.
Gen. 48. 14 &c.
Duice diue condit vi∣tam, &c. This hee translates, It blocks vp this life of ours in blind af∣fections. Ig∣norantly deryuing Condit, from Con∣do, and not from Con∣dio; and negligent∣ly misrea¦ding Amo∣ribu•• (as I guesse) for Amatorious Had this discourse of blind men hurt his eye sight?
Psa. 121. 4.
Extermi¦nantes quod facti sant, ha∣uing be∣fore spo∣ken of Ima¦ges, hee here al∣ludes to Gods I∣mage which men were made after. This being something hard; the former Translates hath left quite out. wisely, Here per∣chance St. Austen tax∣etil the vse of pictures of holy things, vsed in blind deuotion by some priuate m••n of his times. For the Church hitherto knew no ••••••∣ges.
1 Ioh. 2. 16
This zea∣lous Obtes∣ation is like that in cur Le∣tany By thine Agony &c. had this beene thought Coniuring, St. Austen who here detests such compacts, would not, so soone haue ad∣ded it or would haue Re∣tracted it?
In Circo
Iames. 4. 6
Esay. 14. 1••
The lust of thes eyes, the lust of the flesh, of the pride of 〈…〉〈…〉 Iohn c. 16.
Psal. 141. 5
The Sen∣ces both outward & inward.
The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life.
1 Ioh. 2. 16
Here my Popish Translater thinkes himselfe subtill in vsing that dis∣tinction (as com∣mon as a Cow-path) of Media∣tors of In∣tercession (which of∣fice hee af∣firmes the Angels may haue) and of Redemption; which he is content to allow Christ. But St Austen here speakes of none but e∣uill angels: Though the Papists haue many Me∣diators, yet I neuer thought they would haue had The diuell and all.
The deuill
Rom 6.
This Ti∣tle is flat against the new popish dis∣tinction a∣boue re∣hearsed: this calls Christ the Intercessor, (that is, Mediator of Inter∣cession, and not Angels. And ther∣fore hath the popish Translater changed Intercessor into Me∣diator.
1 Tim. 2. 5
Phil. 2. 6, 8
Psal. ••8. 5.
Iohn 10, 18
Iohn. 1.
Here the other Translater takes oc∣casion to extoll the perfection of Eremits that liue in the Wil∣dernesse. But is this a place fit for that, which shewes that St. Au∣sten was forbidden it by God himselfe?
2 Cor. 5. 15.
Col 2. 3••
Psal. 32. 26