The holy state by Thomas Fuller ...

The Holy State. THE SECOND BOOK. (Book 2)

CHAP. 1. The good * 1.1 Advocate.

HE is one that will not plead that cause, wherein his tongue must be confuted by his conscience. It is the praise of the Spanish souldier, that (whilest all other Nations are mercenary, and for money will serve on any side) he will never fight against his own King: nor will our Advocate against the Sovereigne Truth, plainly appearing to his conscience.

He not onely hears but examines his Client,* 1.2 and pincheth the cause, where he fears it is foundred. For many Clients in telling their case rather plead then relate it, so that the Advocate hears not the true state of it, till opened by the adverse party. Surely the Lawyer that fills himself with instructions will travell longest in the cause without tiring. Others that are so quick in searching, seldome search to the quick; and those miraculous apprehensions who understand more then all, before the Client hath told half, runne without their errand, and will return without their answer.

If the matter be doubtfull,* 1.3 he will onely warrant his own di∣ligence. Yet some keep an Assurance-office in their

chamber, and will warrant any cause brought unto them, as knowing that if they fail they lose nothing but what long since was lost, their credit.

* 1.4He makes not a Trojan-siege of a suit, but seeks to bring it to a set battel in a speedy triall. Yet sometimes suits are con∣tinued by their difficulty, the potencie and stomach of the parties, without any default in the Lawyer. Thus have there depended suits in * 1.5 Glocester-shire, betwixt the Heirs of the Lord Barkley, and S^r. Thomas Tal∣bot Viscount Lisle, ever since the reigne of King Ed∣ward the fourth untill now lately they were finally compounded.

* 1.6He is faithfull to the side that first retains him. Not like * 1.7 Demosthenes, who secretly wrote one oration for Phormio, and another in the same matter for Apoli∣dorus his adversary.

* 1.8In pleading he shoots fairly at the head of the cause, and having fastened, no frowns nor favours shall make him let go his hold. Not snatching aside here and there, to no purpose, speaking little in much, as it was said of Anaximenes, That he had a flood of words, and a drop of reason. His boldnesse riseth or falleth as he apprehends the good∣nesse or badnesse of his cause.

* 1.9He joyes not to be retain'd in such a suit, where all the right in question, is but a drop blown up with malice to be a bubble. Wherefore in such triviall matters he perswades his Client to sound a retreat, and make a composition.

* 1.10When his name is up, his industry is not down, thinking to plead not by his study but his credit. Commonly Physicians like beer are best when they are old, & Lawyers like bread when they are young and new. But our Advocate grows not lazie. And if a leading case be out of the road of his practice, he will take pains to trace it tho∣row his books, and prick the footsteps thereof where∣soever he finds it.

* 1.11He is more carefull to deserve, then greedy to take fees. He accounts the very pleading of a poore widows honest

cause sufficient fees, as conceiving himself then the King of Heavens Advocate, bound ex officio to prose∣cute it. And although some may say that such a Law∣yer may even go live in Cornwall, where it is * 1.12 obser∣ved that few of that profession hitherto have grown to any great livelihood, yet shall he (besides those two felicities of* 1.13 common Lawyers, that they seldome die either without heirs or making a will) find Gods blessing on his provisions and posterity.

We will respit him a while till he comes to be a Judge, and then we will give an example of both to∣gether.

CHAP. 2. The good Physician.

HE trusteth not the single witnesse of the water if better testimony may be had.* 1.14 For reasons drawn from the urine alone are as brittle as the urinall. Sometimes the water runneth in such post-hast through the sick mans body, it can give no account of any thing memorable in the passage, though the most judicious eye examine it. Yea the sick man may be in the state of death, and yet life appear in his state.

Coming to his patient he perswades him to put his trust in God the fountain of health.* 1.15 The neglect hereof hath caused the bad successe of the best Physicians: for God will ma∣nifest that though skill comes mediately from him to be gotten by mans pains, successe comes from him immediately to be disposed at his pleasure.

He ••ansells not his new experiments on the bodies of his pa∣tients;* 1.16 letting loose mad receipts into the sick mans body, to try how well Nature in him will fight against them, whilest himself stands by and sees the battel, ex∣cept it be in desperate cases when death must be ex∣pell'd by death.

To poore people he prescribes cheap but wholesome medicines:* 1.17

not removing the consumption out of their bodies in∣to their purses; nor sending them to the East Indies for drugs, when they can reach better out of their gardens.

* 1.18Lest his Apothecary should oversee, he oversees his Apotheca∣ry. For though many of that profession be both able and honest, yet some out of ignorance or haste may mistake: witnesse one of Bloys, * 1.19 who being to serve a Doctours bill, in stead of Optimi (short written) read Opii, and had sent the patient asleep to his grave, if the Doctours watchfulnesse had not prevented him; worse are those who make wilfull errours, giving one thing for another. A prodigall who had spent his estate was pleased to jeer himself, boasting that he had cosened those who had bought his means; They gave me (said he) good new money, and I sold them my Great-great-grandfathers old land. But this cosenage is too too true in many Apothecaries, selling to sick folk for new money antiquated drugs, and making dying mens Physick of dead ingredients.

* 1.20He brings not news with a false spie that the coast is clear till death surprises the sick man. I know Physicians love to make the best of their patients estate. First 'tis impro∣per that Adjutores vitae should be Nuncii mortis. Se∣condly, none, with their good will, will tell bad news. Thirdly, their fee may be the worse for't. Fourthly, 'tis a confessing that their art is conquer'd. Fifthly, it will poyson their patients heart with grief, and make it break before the time. However they may so order it, that the party may be inform'd of his dangerous condition, that he be not outed of this world before he be provided for another.

* 1.21When he can keep life no longer in, he makes a fair & easie pas∣sage for it to go out. He giveth his attendance for the fa∣cilitating and asswaging of the pains and agonies of death. Yet generally 'tis death to a Physician to be with a dying man.

Vnworthy pretenders to Physick are rather foils then stains to the Profession.* 1.22 Such a one was that counterfeit, who called himself The Baron of * 1.23 Blackamore, and feigned he was sent from the Emperour to our young King Henry the sixth, to be his principall Physician: but his forgery being discovered, he was apprehended, and executed in the Tower of London, Anno 1426. and such the world daily swarms with. Well did the Poets feigne Aesculapius and Circe, brother and sister, and both children of the Sunne: for in all times in the opinion of the multitude, witches, old women, and impostours have had a competition with Physicians. And commonly the most ignorant are the most con∣fident in their undertakings, and will not stick to tell you what disease the gall of a dove is good to cure. He took himself to be no mean Doctour, who being guilty of no Greek, and being demanded why it was called an Hectick fever; because (saith he) of an hecking cough which ever attendeth that disease. And here it will not be amisse to describe the life of the famous Quack∣salver Paracelsus, both because it is not ordinarily to be met with, and that men may see what a monster ma∣ny make a miracle of learning, and propound him their pattern in their practice.

[illustration]

Physick Proffessor•• at Basil. Philip Theophrastus PARACELSUS He died at Saltzburge An^o. Dom: 1540. aged 47 yeares. W. Marshall sculprit.

CHAP. 3. The life of PARACELSUS.

PHilip Theophrastus Bombastus of Hoenhaim, or Paracelsus, born as he saith himself in the wilder∣nesse of Helvetia, Anno 1493. of the noble and ancient family of the Hoenhaims. But Thomas Erastus ma∣king strict enquiry after his pedigree found none of his name or kinred in that place. Yet it is fit so great a Chymist should make himself to be of noble ex∣traction: And let us believe him to be of high de∣scent,

as perchance born on some mountain in Swit∣zerland.

As for his Education, he himself * 1.24 boasts that he li∣ved in most Universities of Europe; surely rather as a traveller then a student, and a vagrant then a traveller. Yea some will not allow him so much, and * 1.25 one who hath exactly measured the length of his life, though crowding his pretended travells very close, finds not room enough for them. But 'tis too ridicu∣lous what a * 1.26 Scholar of his relates, that he lived ten years in Arabia to get learning, and conversed in Greece with the Athenian Philosophers. Whereas in that age Arabia the Happy was accursed with Bar∣barisme, and Athens grown a stranger to her self; both which places being then subjected to the Turks, the very ruines of all learning were ruin'd there. Thus we see how he better knew to act his part, then to lay his Scene, and had not Chronologie enough to tell the clock of time, when and where to place his lies to make them like truth.

The first five & twenty years of his age he lived very civilly; being thirty years old he came to Basill, just at the alteration of Religion, when many Papists were expell'd the University, and places rather wanted Pro∣fessours, then Professours places. Here by the favour of Oecolampadius he was admitted to reade Physick, & for two years behaved himself fairly, till this accident caused his departure. A rich * 1.27 Canon of Basill being sick promised Paracelsus an hundred florens to reco∣ver him, which being restored to his health he denied to pay. Paracelsus sues him, is cast in his suit, the Ma∣gistrate adjudging him onely an ordinary fee, because the cure was done presently with a few pills. The Physician enraged hereat talked treason against the State in all his discourses, till the nimblenesse of his tongue forc'd the nimblenesse of his feet, and he was fain to fly into Alsatia. Here keeping company with

the Gentry of the countrey, he gave himself over to all licentiousnesse: His body was the sea wherein the tide of drunkennesse was ever ebbing and flowing; for by putting his finger in his throat he used to spew out his drink and drunkennesse together, and from that instant date himself sober to return to his cups again. Every moneth he had a new sute, not for pride but necessity; his apparel serving both for wearing and bedding: and having given his clothes many vomits, he gave them to the poore. Being Codrus over night, he would be Croesus in the morning, flush of money as if he carried the invisible Indies in his pocket: some suspected the devil was his pursebearer, and that he carried a spirit in the pomel of his sword his constant companion, whilest others maintain that by the heat of the furnace he could ripen any metall into gold.

All the diet he prescribed his patients was this, to eat what, and how often, they thought fitting them∣selves, and yet he did most strange cures. Like the quicksilver (he so much dealt with) he would never be fixt in one place, or live any where longer then a twelvemoneth: for some observe that by that time the maladies reverted again, which he formerly cured. He gave so strong physick as summoned Nature with all her force to expell the present disease, but the rem∣nant dregs thereof afterwards reinforcing themselves did assault Nature tired out with the violence of her former task, and easily subdued it.

His Scholars brag that the fragments of his learn∣ing would feast all the Philosophers in the world, boasting that the gout, the disgrace of Physick, was the honour of Paracelsus, who by curing it removed that scandall from his profession: whereas others say he had little Learning, and lesse Latine. When any asked him the name of an herb he knew not, he would tell them there was no * 1.28 use thereof in Physick;

and yet this man would undertake not onely to cure men, but to cure the Art of curing men, and reform Physick it self.

As for his religion, it would as well pose himself as others to tell what it was. He boasted that shortly he would order Luther and the Pope, as well as he had done Galen and Hippocrates. He was never seen to pray, and seldome came to Church. He was not one∣ly skilled in naturall Magick (the utmost bounds whereof border on the suburbs of hell) but is charged to converse constantly with familiars. Guilty he was of all vices but wantonnesse; and I find an * 1.29 honest man his Compurgatour, that he was not given to women; perchance he drank himself into wanton∣nesse and past it, quenching the fire of his lust by pi∣ling fuell too hard and fast upon it.

Boasting that he could make a man immortall, he himself died at fourty seven years in the City of Saltz∣burg. His Scholars say he was poysoned through the envy (that dark shadow ever waiting on a shining merit) and malice of his adversaries. However his body should have been so fenced with antidotes, that the battery of no poyson might make a breach there∣in; except we impute it more to his neglect then want of skill, and that rather his own security then his ene∣mies malice brought him to his grave. But it may be he was willing to die, counting a twelvemoneths time enough to stay in one place, and fourty seven years long enough to live in one world. We may more ad∣mire that so beastly a drunkard lived so long, then that so skilfull a man died so soon. In a word, He boasted of more then he could do, did more cures seemingly then really, more cures really then lawfully; of more parts then learning, of more fame then parts; a better Physician then a man, and a better Chirurgeon then Physician.

CHAP. 4. The Controversiall Divine.

HE is Truths Champion to defend her against all adversaries, Atheists, Hereticks, Schismaticks, and Erroneous persons whatsoever. His sufficiency appears in Opposing, Answering, Moderating, and Writing.

* 1.30He engageth both his judgement, and affections in opposing of falsehood. Not like countrey Fencers, who play onely to make sport, but like Duellers indeed, at it for life and limbe; chiefly if the question be of large pro∣spect, and great concernings, he is zealous in the quar∣rell. Yet some, though their judgement weigh down on one side, the beam of their affections stands so even, they care not which part prevails.

* 1.31In opposing a truth, he dissembles himself her foe, to be her better friend. Wherefore he counts himself the greatest conquerour when Truth hath taken him captive. With Joseph having sufficiently sifted the matter in a disguise, he discovereth himself, * 1.32 I am Ioseph your bro∣ther, and then throws away his visard. Dishonest they, who though the debt be satisfied will never give up the bond, but continue wrangling, when the ob∣jection is answered.

* 1.33He abstains from all foul and railing language. What? make the Muses, yea the Graces scolds? Such purulent spittle argues exulcerated lungs. Why should there be so much railing about the body of Christ? when there was none about the body of Moses in the Act kept betwixt the devil and Michael the Archan∣gel.

* 1.34He tyrannizeth not over a weak and undermatch'd Adversa∣ry; but seeks rather to cover his weaknesse if he be a modest man. When a Professour pressed an Answer∣er

(a better Christian then a Clerk) with an hard ar∣gument, Reverende Professor (said he) ingenue confiteor me non posse respondere huic argumento. To whom the Pro∣fessour, Recte respondes.

In answering he states the question, and expoundeth the terms thereof.* 1.35 Otherwise the disputants shall end, where they ought to have begun, in differences about words, and be Barbarians each to other, speaking in a Lan∣guage neither understand. If the Question also be of Historicall cognizanse, he shews the pedigree thereof, who first brew'd it, who first broch'd it, and sends the wandring Errour with a pasport home to the place of its birth.

In taking away an objection he not onely puts by the thrust,* 1.36 but breaks the weapon. Some rather escape then defeat an argument, and though by such an evasion they may shut the mouth of the Opponent, yet may they open the difficulty wider in the hearts of the hearers. But our Answerer either fairly resolves the doubt; or else shews the falsenesse of the argument, by beggering the Opponent to maintain such a fruitfull generation of absurdities, as his argument hath begotten; or lastly returns and retorts it back upon him again. The first way unties the knot; the second cuts it a∣sunder; the third whips the Opponent with the knot himself tyed. Sure 'tis more honour to be a clear Answerer, then a cunning Opposer, because the latter takes advantage of mans ignorance, which is ten times more then his knowledge.

What his answers want in suddennesse they have in solidity.* 1.37 Indeed the speedy answer addes lustre to the dispu∣tation, and honour to the disputant; yet he makes good payment, who though he cannot presently throw the money out of his pocket, yet will pay it, if but going home to unlock his chest. Some that are not for speedy may be for sounder performance. When Melanchthon at the disputation of Ratisbon was

pressed with a shrewd argument by Ecchius, I will answer thee, said he, to morrow. Nay, said Ecchius, do it now or it's nothing worth. Yea, said Melanchthon, I seek the Truth, and not mine own Credit, and therefore it will be as good if I answer thee to * 1.38 mor∣row by Gods assistance.

* 1.39In moderating he sides with the Answerer, if the Answerer sides with the truth. But if he be conceited, & opinioned of his own sufficiency, he lets him swound before he gives him any hot water. If a Paradox-monger, loving to hold strange yea dangerous Opinions, he counts it charity to suffer such a one to be beaten without mer∣cy, that he may be weaned from his wilfulnesse. For the main, he is so a staff to the Answerer, that he makes him stand on his own legs.

* 1.40In writing, his Latine is pure, so farre as the subject will allow. For those who are to climbe the Alpes are not to ex∣pect a smooth and even way. True it is that School∣men, perceiving that fallacy had too much covert un∣der the nap of flourishing Language, used thred∣bare Latine on purpose, and cared not to trespasse on Grammar, and tread down the fences thereof to avoid the circuit of words, and to go the nearest way to expresse their conceits. But our Divine though he useth barbarous School-terms, which like standers are fixt to the controversie, yet in his moveable Latine, passages, and digressions his style is pure and elegant.

* 1.41He affects clearnesse and plainnesse in all his writings. Some mens heads are like the world before God said unto it, Fiat lux. These dark-lanterns may shine to them∣selves, and understand their own conceits, but no bo∣dy else can have light from them. Thus Matthias Fa∣rinator Professour at Vienna, assisted with some other learned men, as the Times then went, was thirty years making a book of applying Plato's, Aristotle's, and Galen's rules in Philosophy, to Christ and his Pro∣phets, and 'tis call'd * 1.42 Lumen animae; quo tamen nihil est

caliginosius, labore magno, sed ridiculo, & inani. But this ob∣scurity is worst when affected, when they do as Per∣sius, of whom * 1.43 one saith, Legi voluit quae scripsit, intelligi noluit quae legerentur. Some affect this darknesse, that they may be accounted profound, whereas one is not bound to believe that all the water is deep that is muddy.

He is not curious in searching matters of no moment.* 1.44 Ca∣ptain Martin * 1.45 Forbisher fetcht from the farthest nor∣thern Countries a ships lading of minerall stones (as he thought) which afterwards were cast out to mend the high wayes. Thus are they served, and misse their hopes, who long seeking to extract hidden mysteries out of nice questions, leave them off, as uselesse at last. Antoninus Pius, for his desire to search to the least dif∣ferences, was called Cumini sector, the Carver of cu∣mine seed. One need not be so accurate: for as soon shall one scowr the spots out of the moon, as all ig∣norance out of man. When Eunomius the Heretick vaunted that he knew God and his divinity, S. * 1.46 Basil gravells him in 21 questions about the body of an ant or pismire: so dark is mans understanding. I wonder therefore at the boldnesse of some, who as if they were Lord Mashalls of the Angels place them in ranks and files. Let us not believe them here, but ra∣ther go to heaven to confute them.

He neither multiplies needlesse, nor compounds necessary Con∣troversies.* 1.47 Sure they light on a labour in vain, who seek to make a bridge of reconciliation over the 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 betwixt Papists and Protestants; for though we go 99 steps, they (I mean their Church) will not come one to give us a meeting. And as for the offers of Cla∣ra's and private men (besides that they seem to be more of the nature of baits then gifts) they may make large profers, without any Commission to treat, and so the Romish Church not bound to pay their pro∣mises. In * 1.48 Merionethshire in Wales there are high

mountains, whose hanging tops come so close toge∣ther that shepherds on the tops of severall hills may audibly talk together, yet will it be a dayes journey for their bodies to meet, so vast is the hallownesse of the vallies betwixt them. Thus upon sound search shall we find a grand distance and remotenesse betwixt Po∣pish and Protestant tenents to reconcile them, which at the first view may seem near, and tending to an ac∣comodation.

* 1.49He is resolute and stable in fundamentall points of Religion. These are his fixed poles, and axletree about which he moves, whilest they stand unmoveable. Some sail so long on the Sea of controversies, toss'd up and down, to and fro, Pro and Con, that the very ground to them seems to move, and their judgements grow scepticall and unstable in the most settled points of Divinity. When he cometh to Preach, especially if to a plain Auditory, with the Paracelsians he extracts an oyl out of the driest and hardest bodies, and knowing that knotty timber is unfit to build with, he edifies people with easie and profitable matter.

[illustration]

WILLIAM WHITACRES D^r. of D: Kinges Professor and Master of S^nt Iohns Coll in Cambridge where He died An^o 1595. Aged 47 yeares. W. Marshall sculp:

CHAP. 5. The life of D^r. VVHITAKER.

WIlliam Whitaker born at Holm in the Coun∣ty of Lancaster of good parentage, especially by his mothers side, allied to two worshipfull fami∣lies. His reverend unckle, Alexander Nowell, Dean of S. Pauls (the first fruits of the English Confessours in the dayes of Queen Marie, who after her death first return'd into England from beyond the Seas) took him young from his parents, sent him first to Pauls

School, thence to Trinity Colledge in Cambridge; where he so profited in his studies, that he gave great promises of his future perfection.

I passe by his youthfull exercises, never striving for the garland, but he wonne and wore it away. His prime appearing to the world, was when he stood for the Professours place against two Competitours, in age farre his superiours. But the seven Electours in the Universitie who were to choose the Emperour of the Schools, preferring a golden head before silver hairs, conferr'd the place on Whitaker; and the strict form of their Election hath no room for corruption. He so well acquitted himself in the place that he an∣swered expectation, the strongest opponent in all di∣sputes and lectures, and by degrees taught envie to ad∣mire him.

By this time the Papists began to assault him, and the Truth. First Campian, one fitter for a Trumpeter then a Souldier, whose best ability was that he could boast in good Latine, being excellent at the flat hand of Rhetorick (which rather gives pats then blows) but he could not bend his fist to dispute. Whitaker both in writing and disputing did teach him, that it was easier to make then maintain a challenge against our Church; and in like manner he handled both Du∣raeus, and Sanders, who successively undertook the same cause, solidly confuting their arguments.

But these Teazers, rather to rouze then pinch the Game, onely made Whitaker find his spirits. The fiercest dog is behind even Bellarmine himself, a great scholar, and who wanted nothing but a good cause to defend, and generally writing ingeniously, using some∣times slenting, seldome down-right railing. Whitaker gave him all fair quarter, stating the question betwixt them, yielding all which the other in reason could ask, and agreeing on terms to fall out with him, plaid fairly but fiercely on him, till the other forsook the field.

Bellarmine had no mind to reinforce his routed ar∣guments, but rather consigned over that service to a new Generall, Stapleton an English man: He was born the same * 1.50 yeare and moneth wherein S^r. Tho∣mas More was beheaded, an observation little lesse then mysticall with the Papists, as if God had substi∣tuted him to grow up in the room of the other for the support of the Catholick cause. If Whitaker in an∣swering him put more gall then usuall into his ink, Stapleton (whose mouth was as foul as his cause) first infected him with bitternesse: and none will blame a man for arming his hands with hard and rough gloves, who is to meddle with bryers and bram∣bles.

Thus they baited him constantly with fresh dogs: None that ran at him once desired a second course at him; and as * 1.51 one observes, Cum nullo hoste unquam consti∣xit, quem non fudit & fugavit.

He filled the Chair with a gracefull presence, so that one needed not to do with him as * 1.52 Luther did with Melanchthon when he first heard him reade, abstract the opinion and sight of his stature and person, lest the meannesse thereof should cause an undervaluing of him: for our Whitakers person carried with it an ex∣cellent port. His style was manly for the strength, mai∣denly for the modesty, and elegant for the phrase there∣of; shewing his skill in spinning a fine thred out of course wool, for such is controversiall matter. He had by his second wife, a modest woman, eight children. It being true of him also, what is said of the famous Lawyer * 1.53 Andreas Tiraquillus, singulis annis singulos libros & liberos Reipublicae dedit.

My Father hath told me, that he often wished that he might lose so much Learning as he had gotten in after-supper studies, on condition he might gain so much strength as he had lost thereby. Indeed his bo∣dy was strongly built for the naturall temper, and well

repair'd by his temperate diet and recreations; but first he foundred the foundation of this house by immo∣derate study, and at last the roof was set on fire by a hot disease.

The unhappy controversie was then started, Whe∣ther justifying faith may be lost. And this thorny question would not suffer our Nightingale to sleep. He was sent for up by Arch-bishop Whitgift to the conference at Lambeth, after which returning home, unseasonable riding, late studying, and night-watching brought him to a burning-fever, to which his body was naturally disposed, as appeared by the mastery of rednesse in his complexion. Thus lost he the health of his body, in maintaining, That the health of the soul could not be lost. All agreed that he should be let bloud; which might then easily have been done, but was deferred by the fault of some about him, till it was too late. Thus, when God intends to cut a mans life off, his dearest friends by dangerous involuntarie mis∣takes shall bring the knife. He died in the 47. yeare of his age, Anno Dom. 1595. and in S. Johns Colledge (whereof he was Master) was solemnly interred, with the grief of the University, and whole Church of God.

CHAP. 6. The true Church Antiquary.

HE is a traveller into former times, whence he hath learnt their language and fashions. If he meets with an old manuscript, which hath the mark worn out of its mouth, and hath lost the date, yet he can tell the age thereof either by the phrase or cha∣racter.

He baits at middle Antiquity,* 1.54 but lodges not till he comes at that which is ancient indeed. Some scoure off the rust of old inscriptions into their own souls, cankering them∣selves with superstition, having read so often Orate pro anima, that at last they fall a praying for the departed; and they more lament the ruine of Monasteryes, then the decay and ruine of Monks lives, degenerating from their ancient piety and painfulnesse. Indeed a little skill in Antiquity inclines a man to Popery; but depth in that study brings him about again to our re∣ligion. A Nobleman who had heard of the extreme age of one dwelling not farre off, made a journey to visit him, and finding an aged person sitting in the chimney-corner, addressed himself unto him with admiration of his age, till his mistake was rectified: for, Oh S^r, (said the young-old man) I am not he whom you seek for, but his sonne; my father is farther off in the field. The same errour is daily cōmitted by the Romish Church, adoring the reverend brow and gray hairs of some ancient Ceremonyes, perchance but of some seven or eight hundred years standing in the Church, and mis∣take these for their fathers, of farre greater age in the Primitive times.

He desires to imitate the ancient Fathers,* 1.55 as well in their Piety, as in their Postures. Not onely conforming his hands and knees, but chiefly his heart to their

pattern. O the holinesse of their living and pain∣fulnesse of their preaching! how full were they of mortified thoughts, and heavenly meditations! Let us not make the ceremoniall part of their lives one∣ly Canonicall, and the morall part thereof altoge∣ther Apocrypha, imitating their devotion not in the finenesse of the stuff, but onely in the fashion of the making.

* 1.56He carefully marks the declination of the Church from the Primitive purity. Observing how sometimes humble devotion was contented to lie down, whilest proud superstition got on her back. Yea not onely Frederick the Emperour, but many a godly Father some hundreds of years before held the Pope's stirrop, and by their well-meaning simplicity gave occasion to his future greatnesse. He takes notice how their Rhetorical hyper∣boles were afterwards accounted the just measure of dogmaticall truths; How plain people took them at their word in their funerall apostrophes to the dead; How praying for the departed brought the fuell, un∣der which after-ages kindled the fire of Purgatory; How one Ceremony begat another, there being no bounds in will-worship, wherewith one may sooner be wearied then satisfied; the inventours of new Ce∣remonyes endeavouring to supply in number, what their conceits want in solidity; How mens souls being in the full speed and career of the Historicall use of Pictures could not stop short, but must lash out into superstition, vailing their bonnets to Rome in civill courtesie, when making honourable mention thereof, are interpreted by modern Papists to have done it in adoration of the idole of the Popes infalli∣bility. All these things he ponders in his heart, obser∣ving both the times and places, when and where they happened.

* 1.57He is not zealous for the introducing of old uselesse Ceremo∣nies. The mischief is, some that are most violent to

bring such in, are most negligent to preach the cauti∣ons in using them; and simple people, like Children in eating of fish, swallow bones and all to their danger of choking. Besides, what is observed of horse-hairs, that lying nine dayes in water they turn to snakes; so some Ceremonies though dead at first, in con∣tinuance of time quicken, get stings, and may do much mischief, especially if in such an age wherein the meddling of some have justly awaked the jealousie of all. When many Popish tricks are abroad in the countrey; if then men meet with a Ceremony which is a stranger, especially if it can give but a bad account of it self, no wonder if the watch take it up for one on suspicion.

He is not peremptory but conjecturall in doubtfull mat∣ters.* 1.58 Not forcing others to his own opinion, but leaving them to their own libertie; not filling up all with his own conjectures to leave no room for other men: nor tramples he on their credits, if in them he finds slips and mistakes. For here our souls have but one eye (the Apostle saith, we know in part) be not proud if that chance to come athwart thy seeing side, which meets with the blind side of another.

He thankfully acknowledgeth those by whom he hath profited.* 1.59 Base natured they, who when they have quenched their own thirst, stop up, at least muddy, the foun∣tain. But our Antiquary, if he be not the first Founder of a commendable conceit, contents himself to be a Benefactour to it in clearing and adorning it.

He affects not phancy-full singularity in his behaviour:* 1.60 Nor cares he to have a proper mark in writing of words, to disguise some peculiar letter from the ordinary cha∣racter. Others, for fear travellers should take no no∣tice that skill in Antiquity dwells in such an head, hang out an antique hat for the signe, or use some

obsolete garb in their garments, gestures, or dis∣course.

* 1.61He doth not so adore the Ancients as to despise the Modern. Grant them but dwarfs, yet stand they on giants shoulders, and may see the further. Sure, as stout champions of Truth follow in the rere, as ever march'd in the front. Besides, as * 1.62 one excel∣lently observes, Antiquitas seculi juventus mundi. These times are the ancient times, when the world is ancient; and not those which we count ancient ordine retrogrado, by a computation backwards from our selves.

CHAP. 7. The generall Artist.

I Know the generall cavill against generall learning is this, that aliquis in omnibus est nullus in singulis. He that sips of many arts, drinks of none. However we must know, that all learning, which is but one grand Sci∣ence, hath so homogeneall a body, that the parts there∣of do with a mutuall service relate to, and communi∣cate strength and lustre each to other. Our Artist knowing language to be the key of learning, thus begins.

* 1.63His tongue being but one by nature he gets cloven by art and industry. Before the confusion of Babel, all the world was one continent in language; since divided into severall tongues, as severall ilands. Grammer is the ship, by benefit whereof we passe from one to another, in the learned languages generally spoken in no countrey. His mother-tongue was like the dull musick of a monochord, which by study he turns into the harmony of severall instru∣ments.

* 1.64He first gaineth skill in the Latine and Greek tongues. On

the credit of the former alone, he may trade in dis∣course over all Christendome: But the Greek, though not so generally spoken, is known with no lesse pro∣fit, and more pleasure. The joynts of her compounded words are so naturally oyled, that they run nimbly on the tongue; which makes them though long never tedious, because significant. Besides, it is full and stately in sound: onely it pities our Artist to see the vowels therein rackt in pronouncing them, hanging oftentimes one way by their native force, and haled another by their accents which countermand them.

Hence he proceeds to the Hebrew,* 1.65 the mother-tongue of the world. More pains then quicknesse of wit is required to get it, and with daily exercise he continues it. Apo∣stacy herein is usuall to fall totally from the language by a little neglect. As for the Arabick, and other Orien∣tall languages, he rather makes sallies and incursions into them, then any solemn sitting down before them.

Then he applies his study to Logick,* 1.66 and Ethicks. The latter makes a mans soul mannerly & wise; but as for Logick, that is the armory of reason, furnished with all offen∣sive and defensive weapons. There are Syllogismes, long swords; Enthymems, short daggers; Dilemma's, two-edged swords that cut on both sides; Sorites, chain-shot: And for the defensive, Distinctions, which are shields; Retortions, which are targets with a pike in the midst of them, both to defend and op∣pose. From hence he raiseth his studies to the know∣ledge of Physicks, the great hall of Nature, and Meta∣physicks the closet thereof; and is carefull not to wade therein so farre, till by subtle distinguishing of notions he confounds himself.

He is skilfull in Rhetorick,* 1.67 which gives a speech colour, as Lo∣gick doth favour, and both together beauty. Though some condemne Rhetorick as the mother of lies, speaking more then the truth in Hyperboles, lesse in her Miosis,

otherwise in her metaphors, contrary in her ironies; yet is there excellent use of all these, when disposed of with judgement. Nor is he a stranger to Poetry, which is musick in words; nor to Musick, which is poetry in sound: both excellent sauce, but they have liv'd and died poore, that made them their meat.

* 1.68Mathematicks he moderately studieth to his great contentment. Using it as ballast for his soul, yet to fix it not to stall it; nor suffers he it to be so unmannerly as to justle out other arts. As for judiciall Astrology (which hath the least judgement in it) this vagrant hath been whipt out of all learned corporations. If our Artist lodgeth her in the out-rooms of his soul for a night or two, it is rather to heare then believe her rela∣tions.

* 1.69Hence he makes his progresse into the study of History. Ne∣stor, who lived three ages, was accounted the wisest man in the world. But the Historian may make himself wise by living as many ages as have past since the begin∣ning of the world. His books enable him to maintain discourse, who besides the stock of his own experience may spend on the common purse of his reading. This directs him in his life, so that he makes the shipwracks of others sea-marks to himself; yea accidents which others start from for their strangenes, he welcomes as his wonted acquaintance, having found presidents for them formerly. Without History a mans soul is pur∣blind, seeing onely the things which almost touch his eyes.

* 1.70He is well seen in Chronology, without which History is but an heap of tales. If by the Laws of the land he is counted a Naturall, who hath not wit enough to tell twenty, or to tell his * 1.71 age; he shall not passe with me for wise in learning, who cannot tell the age of the world, and count hundreds of years: I mean not so critically, as to solve all doubts arising thence; but that he may be able to give some tolerable account thereof. He is also ac∣quainted

with Cosmography, treating of the world in whole joynts; with Chorography, shredding it into countries; and with Topography, mincing it into par∣ticular places.

Thus taking these Sciences in their generall latitude, he hath finished the round circle or golden ring of the arts; onely he keeps a place for the diamond to be set in, I mean for that predominant profession of Law, Physick, Divinity, or State-policie, which he intends for his principall Calling hereafter.

[illustration]

Iulius Caesar SCALIGER. a great Restorer of Learninge. He died at Agen in France. An^o. Dni. 1558. aged 75 yeares. W. M. sculp:

CHAP. 8. The life of JULIUS SCALIGER.

I Know my choice herein is liable to much excep∣tion. Some will make me the pattern of ignorance, for making this Scaliger the pattern of the generall Ar∣tist, whose own sonne Joseph might have been his fa∣ther in many arts. But all things considered, the choice will appear well advised, even in such variety of examples. Yet let him know that undertakes to pick out the best ear amongst an acre of wheat, that

he shall leave as good if not a better behind him, then that which he chooseth.

He was born Anno 1484. in Italie, at the Castle of Ripa upon lacus Benacus, now called Lago di Garda, of the illustrious and noble family of the Scaligers, Princes, for many hundreds of years, of Verona, till at last the Venetians outed them of their ancient inheri∣tance. Being about eleven years old, he was brought to the Court of Maximilian Emperour of Germany, where for seventeen years together he was taught learn∣ing, and military discipline. I passe by his valiant per∣formances atchieved by him, save that this one action of his is so great and strong, it cannot be kept in silence, but will be recorded.

In the cruel battel at Ravenna betwixt the Empe∣rour and the French, he not onely bravely fetch'd off the dead bodies of Benedictus and Titus his father and brother, but also with his own hands rescued the Eagle (the standard Imperiall) which was taken by the ene∣mies. For which his prowesse Maximilian knighted him, and with his own hands put on him the golden spurres, and chain, the badges of knight-hood.

Amidst these his Martiall employments he made many a clandestine match with the Muses, and whilest he expected the tides and returns of businesse, he fill'd up the empty places of leisure with his studies. Well did the Poets feigne Pallas Patronesse of arts and armes, there being ever good intelligence betwixt the two Professions, and as it were but a narrow cut to ferry over out of one into the other. At last Scaliger sounded a retreat to himself from the warres, and wholly applyed himself to his book, especially after his wandring life was fixed by marriage unto the beauti∣full Andietta Lobeiaca, with whom he lived at Agin, near Montpeliar in France.

His Latine was twice refined, and most criticall, as appears by his own writings, and notes on other Au∣thours.

He was an accurate Grecian, yet began to stu∣dy it, when well nigh fourty years old, when a mans tongue is too stiff to bow to words. What a torture was it to him who flowed with streams of matter then to learn words, yea letters, drop by drop? But nothing was unconquerable to his pains, who had a golden wit in an iron body. Let his book of Subtilties wit∣nesse his profound skill in Logick, and Naturall Philo∣sophy.

His skill in Physick was as great, as his practice therein was happy; in so much that he did many strange and admirable cures. Heare how a * 1.72 noble and learned pen doth commend him:

Non hunc fefellit ulla vis recondita Salubris herbae, saltibus si quam aviis Celat nivosus Caucasus, seu quam procul Riphaea duro contigit rupes gelu. Hic jam{que} spectantes ad orcum non semel Animas repressit victor, & membris suis Haerere succis compulit felicibus, Nigri{que} avaras Ditis elusit manus.

On snowy Caucasus there grew no root Of secret power, but he was privy to 't; On cold Riphean hills no simple grew, But he the force thereof and virtue knew. Wherewith (apply'd by his successefull art) Such sullen souls as would this world depart, He forc'd still in their bodies to remain, And from deaths doore fetch'd others back again.

As for his skill in Physiognomy, it was wonderfull. I know some will say, that cannot be read in mens faces which was never wrote there, and that he that seeks to find the disposition of mens souls in the fi∣gures of their bodies, looks for letters on the backside

of the book. Yet is it credibly * 1.73 averred that he never look'd on his infant-sonne Audectus but with grief, as sorrow-struck with some sad signe of ill successe he saw in his face: which child at last was found stifled in bed with the embraces of his nurce being fast a∣sleep.

In Mathematicks he was no Archimedes, though he shewed his skill therein with the best advantage, and stood therein on his tiptoes, that his learning might seem the taller.

But in Poetry his over-measure of skill might make up this defect, as is attested by his book de Arte Poetica. Yet his own Poems are harsh, and unsmooth, (as if he rather snorted then slept on Parnassus) and they sound better to the brain then the eare. Indeed his censure in Poetry was incomparable; but he was more happy in repairing of Poems then in building them from the ground, which speaks his judgement to be better then his invention.

What shall I speak of his skill in History? whose own actions were a sufficient History. He was excel∣lently vers'd in the passages of the world, both mo∣dern and ancient. Many modern languages, which departed from Babel in a confusion, met in his mouth in a method, being skilfull in the Sclavonick tongue, the Hungarian, Dutch, Italian, Spanish, and French.

But these his excellent parts were attended with pro∣digious pride; and he had much of the humour of the Ottomans in him, to kill all his brethren, and cry down all his equalls, which were corrivalls with him in the honour of arts, which was his principall quar∣rell with Cardan. Great was his spight at Erasmus, the morning-starre of learning, and one by whom Julius himself had profited, though afterwards he sought to put out that candle whereat he had lighted his own. In the bickering betwixt them, Erasmus pluckt Scali∣ger

by the long locks of his immoderate boasting, and touched him to the quick (a proud man lies pat for a jeering mans hand to hit) yea Erasmus was a badger in his jeeres, where he did bite he would make his teeth meet. Nor came Scaliger behind him in rai∣ling. However afterward Scaliger repented of his bit∣ternesse, and before his death was * 1.74 reconciled unto him.

Thus his learning, being in the circuit of arts, spread so wide, no wonder if it lay thinne in some places. His parts were nimble, that starting so late he overtook, yea overran his equalls: so that we may safely conclude that making abatement for his military avocations, and late applying himself to study, scarce any one is to be preferred before him for generality of humane learning. He died Anno 1558. in the 75. yeare of his age.

CHAP. 9. The faithfull Minister.

VVE suppose him not brought up by hand onely in his own countrey studies, but that he hath suckt of his Mother University, and throughly learnt the arts: Not as S. * 1.75 Rumball, who is said to have spoken as soon as he was born, doth he preach as soon as he is Matriculated. Conceive him now a Graduate in arts, and entred into orders, according to the solemn form of the Church of England, and presented by some Patrone to a pastorall charge, or place equivalent, and then let us see how well he dischargeth his of∣fice.

* 1.76He endeavours to get the generall love and good will of his parish. This he doth not so much to make a benefit of them, as a benefit for them, that his ministry may be more effectuall; otherwise he may preach his own heart out, before he preacheth any thing into theirs.

The good conceit of the Physician is half a cure, and his practice will scarce be happy where his person is hated; yet he humours them not in his Doctrine to get their love: for such a spanniel is worse then a dumbe dog. He shall sooner get their good will by walking uprightly, then by crouching and creeping. If pious living and painfull labouring in his calling will not win their affections, he counts it gain to lose them. As for those which causelessely hate him, he pities and prayes for them: and such there will be; I should suspect his preaching had no salt in it, if no gald horse did winse

He is strict in ordering his conversation. As for those who clense blurres with blotted fingers,* 1.77 they make it the worse. It was said of one who preach'd very well, & liv'd very ill, That when he was out of the Pulpit, it was pity he should ever go into it, & when he was in the Pulpit, it was pity he should ever come out of it: But our Minister lives Sermons. And yet I deny not but dissolute men, like unskilfull horsemen which open a gate on the wrong side, may by the virtue of their office open heaven for others, and shut them∣selves out.

His behaviour towards his people is grave and courteous.* 1.78 Not too austere and retired; which is laid to the charge of good M^r * 1.79 Hooper the martyr, that his rigidnesse frighted people from consulting with him. Let your light (saith Christ) shine before men; whereas over reser∣vednesse makes the brightest virtue burn dimme. E∣specially he detesteth affected gravity (which is rather on men then in them) whereby some belie their regi∣ster-book, antedate their age to seem farre older then they are, and plait and set their brows in an affected sadnesse. Whereas S * 1.80 Anthony the Monk might have been known among hundreds of his order by his cheerfull face, he having ever (though a most mortifi∣ed man) a merry countenance.

He doth not clash Gods ordinances together about precedency.* 1.81 Not making odious comparisons betwixt Prayer and

Preaching, Preaching and Catechising, Publick prayer and Private, Premeditate prayer and Ex tempore. When at the taking of new Carthage in Spain two Souldiers contended about the Murall crown (due to him who first climbed the walls) so that the whole army was thereupon in danger of division, * 1.82 Scipio the Gene∣rall said, He knew that they both got up the wall to∣gether, and so gave the Scaling crown to them both. Thus our Minister compounds all controversies be∣twixt Gods ordinances, by praysing them all, practi∣sing them all, and thanking God for them all. He counts the reading of Common-prayers to prepare him the better for preaching; and as one said, if he did first toll the bell on one side, it made it afterwards ring out the better in his Sermons.

* 1.83He carefully Catechiseth his people in the elements of religion. Except he hath (a rare thing) a flock without lambs, all of old sheep; and yet even Luther did not scorn to professe himself Discipulum Catechismi, a scholar of the Ca∣techisme. By this Catechising the Gospel first got ground of Popery▪ and let not our Religion now grown rich be ashamed of that which first gave it credit and set it up, lest the Jesuites beat us at our own weapon. Through the want of this Catechising many which are well skilled in some dark out-corners of Di∣vinity have lost themselves in the beaten road there∣of.

* 1.84He will not offer to God of that which costs him nothing; but takes pains aforehand for his Sermons. * 1.85 Demosthenes never made any oration on the sudden; yea being called upon he never rose up to speak, except he had well studied the matter: and he was wont to say, That he shewed how he honoured and reverenced the people of Athens because he was carefull what he spake unto them. Indeed if our Minister be surprised with a sudden occasion, he counts himself rather to be excused then commended, if premeditating onely the bones of his Sermon he

clothes it with flesh ex tempore. As for those, whose long custome hath made preaching their nature, that they can discourse Sermons without study, he accounts their examples rather to be admired then imitated.

Having brought his Sermon into his head, he labours to bring it into his heart,* 1.86 before he preaches it to his people. Surely that preaching which comes from the soul most works on the soul. Some have questioned ventriloquie, when men strangely speak out of their bellies, whether it can be done lawfully or no: might I coin the word cordiloquie, when men draw the do∣ctrines out of their hearts, sure all would count this lawfull and commendable.* 1.87

He chiefly reproves the raigning sins of the time, and place he lives in. We may observe that our Saviour never inveighed against Idolatry, Usury, Sabbath-breaking amongst the Jews; not that these were not sins, but they were not practised so much in that age, wherein wickednesse was spun with a finer thred: and therefore Christ principally bent the drift of his preaching against spirituall Pride, Hypocrisie, and Traditions then predominant amongst the people. Also our Minister confuteth no old Heresies which time hath confuted; nor troubles his Auditory with such strange, hideous cases of Conscience, that it is more hard to find the case then the resolution. In pub∣lick reproving of sinne, he ever whips the vice, and spares the person.

He doth not onely move the bread of life, and tosse it up and down in generalities,* 1.88 but also breaks it into particular directions: drawing it down to cases of Conscience, that a man may be warranted in his particular actions, whether they be lawfull or not. And he teacheth people their lawfull liberty as well as their restraints and prohibiti∣ons; for amongst men it is as ill taken to turn back favours, as to disobey commands.

The places of Scripture he quotes are pregnant and pertinent.* 1.89

As for heaping up of many quotations, it smacks of a vain ostentation of memory. Besides, it is as impossi∣ble that the hearer should profitably retain them all, as that the preacher hath seriously perused them all: yea, whilest the auditours stop their attention, and stoop down to gather an impertinent quotation, the Sermon runs on, and they lose more substantiall matter.

* 1.90His similes and illustrations are alwayes familiar, never con∣temptible. Indeed reasons are the pillars of the fabrick of a Sermon, but similitudes are the windows which give the best light. He avoids such stories whose mention may suggest bad thoughts to the auditours, and will not use a light comparison to make thereof a grave application, for fear lest his poyson go farther then his antidote.

* 1.91He provideth not onely wholsome but plentifull food for his people. Almost incredible was the painfulnesse of Ba∣ronius, the compiler of the voluminous Annals of the Church, who for thirty years together preached * 1.92 three or foure times aweek to the people. As for our Minister, he preferreth rather to entertain his people with wholsome cold meat which was on the table before, then with that which is hot from the spit, raw and half roasted. Yet in repetition of the same Ser∣mon, every edition hath a new addition, if not of new matter of new affections. Of whom, saith S. Paul, we have told you often, and now we tell you weeping.

* 1.93He makes not that wearisome, which should ever be welcome. Wherefore his Sermons are of an ordinary length ex∣cept on an extraordinary occasion. What a gift had John * 1.94 Haselbach, Professour at Vienna, in tedious∣nesse? who being to expound the Prophet Esay to his auditours read twenty one years on the first Chap∣ter, and yet finished it not.

* 1.95He counts the successe of his Ministry the greatest preferment. Yet herein God hath humbled many painfull pastours,

in making them to be clouds to rain, not over Arabia the happy, but over the stonie or desert: so that they may complain with the Herdsman in the Poet,

He•• mihi, quam pingui macer est mihi taurus in arvo? My starveling bull, Ah woe is me, In pasture full, How lean is he?

Yet such Pastours may comfort themselves that great is their reward with God in heaven, who mea∣sures it not by their successe but endeavours. Besides, though they see not, their people may feel benefit by their Ministry. Yea the preaching of the Word in some places is like the planting of woods, where though no profit is received for twenty years together, it comes afterwards. And grant, that God honours thee not to build his temple in thy parish, yet thou maist with David provide metall and materialls for Solomon thy successour to build it with.

To sick folks he comes sometimes before he is sent for,* 1.96 as counting his vocation a sufficient calling. None of his flock shall want the extreme unction of Prayer and Counsell. Against the Communion especially he en∣deavours that Janus his temple be shut in the whole parish, and that all be made friends.

He is never plaintiff in any suit but to be rights defendant.* 1.97 If his dues be detained from him, he grieves more for his parishioners bad conscience then his own damage. He had rather suffer ten times in his profit, then once in his title, where not onely his person, but posterity is wronged: And then he proceeds fairly and speedily to a tryall, that he may not vex and weary others, but right himself. During his suit he neither breaks off nor slacks offices of courtesie to his adversary; yea though he loseth his suit, he will not also lose his cha∣rity. Chiefly he is respectfull to his Patrone, that as

he presented him freely to his living, so he constantly presents his Patrone in his prayers to God.

* 1.98He is moderate in his tenets and opinions. Not that he gilds over lukewarmnesse in matters of moment with the ti∣tle of discretion, but withall he is carefull not to entitle violence in indifferent and in concerning matters to be zeal. Indeed men of extraordinary tallnesse, (though otherwise little deserving) are made porters to lords, & those of unusuall littlenesse are made ladies dwarfs, whilest men of moderate stature may want masters. Thus many notorius for extremities may find fa∣vourers to preferre them, whilest moderate men in the middle truth may want any to advance them. But what saith the Apostle? If in this life onely we had hope we are of all men the most miserable.

* 1.99He is sociable and willing to do any courtesie for his neighbour Ministers. He willingly communicates his knowledge unto them. Surely the gifts and graces of Christians lay in common, till base envy made the first enclo∣sure. He neither slighteth his inferiours; nor repineth at those who in parts and credit are above him. He loveth the company of his neighbour Ministers. Sure as ambergreece is nothing so sweet in it self, as when it is compounded with other things; so both godly and learned men are gainers by com∣municating themselves to their neighbours.

* 1.100He is carefull in the discreet ordering of his own family. A good Minister and a good father may well agree to∣gether. When a certain Frenchman came to visit * 1.101 Melanchthon, he found him in his stove with one hand dandling his child in the swadling-clouts, and in the other hand holding a book and reading it. Our Minister also is as hospitable as his estate will permit, and makes every almes two by his cheerfull giving it. He loveth also to live in a well-repaired house, that he may serve God therein more cheerfully. A Clergieman who built his house from the

ground wrote in it this counsell to his successour,

If thou dost find an house built to thy mind Without thy cost, Serve thou the more God and the poore; My labour is not lost.

Lying on his deathbed he bequeaths to each of his parishioners his precepts and example for a legacie:* 1.102 and they in requitall erect every one a monument for him in their hearts. He is so farre from that base jealousie that his memory should be outshined by a brighter successour, and from that wicked desire that his people may find his worth by the worthlesnesse of him that succeeds, that he doth heartily pray to God to provide them a better Pastour after his decease. As for outward estate, he common∣ly lives in too bare pasture to die fat▪ It is well if he hath gathered any flesh, being more in blessing then bulk.

[illustration]

WILLIAM PERKINS The Learned, pious, and painfull Preacher of Gods word, at S^t Andrewes in Cambridge where He died Anno Dni. 1602. Aged 44 yeares. W. M. sculp.

CHAP. 10. The life of M^r PERKINS.

William Perkins, born at Marston nigh Co∣ventry in Warwickshire, was afterwards brought up in Christ-Colledge in Cambridge, where he so well profited in his studies that he got the grounds of all liberall Arts, and in the 24. of Queen Elizabeth was chosen fellow of that Colledge, the same yeare wherein Doctour Andrew Willet (one of admi∣rable industry) and Doctour Richard Clark (whose

learned Sermons commend him to posterity) were elected into the same Society.

There goeth an uncontroll'd tradition, that Perkins, when a young scholar, was a great studier of Magick, occasioned perchance by his skill in Mathematicks. For ignorant people count all circles above their own sphere to be conjuring, and presently cry out those things are done by black art for which their dimme eyes can see no colour in reason. And in such cases, when they cannot flie up to heaven to make it a Mi∣racle, they fetch it from hell to make it Magick, though it may lawfully be done by naturall causes. True it is he was very wild in his youth till God (the best Chymick who can fix quicksilver it self) gratiously reclaim'd him.

After his entrance into the Ministry, the first beam he sent forth shined to those which sat in darknesse and the shadow of death, I mean the prisoners in the castle of Cambridge, people (as generally in such places) living in England out of Christendome, wanting the means of their salvation, bound in their bodies, but too loose in their lives, yea often branded in their flesh, and seared in their consciences. Perkins prevailed so farre with their jaylour, that the prisoners were brought (fetter'd) to the Shire-house hard by, where he preached unto them every Lords day. Thus was the prison his parish, his own Charity his Pa∣tron presenting him unto it, and his work was all his wages. Many an Onesimus here he begat, and as the instrument freed the prisoners from the captivity of sinne. When this began to be known, some of good quality of the neighbouring parishes became his au∣ditours, and counted it their feast to feed out of the prisoners basket. Hence afterwards he became Preacher of S. Andrews parish in Cambridge, where he continued to the day of his death.

His Sermons were not so plain but that the piously

learned did admire them, nor so learned but that the plain did understand them. What was said of Socrates, That he first humbled the towring specul••••ions of Philosophers into practice and morality; so our Per∣kins brought the schools into the Pulpit, and unshel∣ling their controversies out of their hard school-terms, made thereof plain and wholsome meat for his people. For he had a capacious head with angles winding, and roomthy enough to lodge all controversiall in••••••asies; and, had not preaching diverted him from that way, he had no doubt attained to eminency therein. An excellent Chirurgeon he was at joynting of a broken soul, and at stating of a doubtfull conscience. And sure in Case-divinity Protestants are defective. For (save that a Smith or two of late have built them forges, and set up shop) we go down to our enemies to sharpen all our instruments, and are beholden to them for offensive and defensive weapons in Cases of Conscience.

He would pronounce the word Damne with such an emphasis as left a dolefull Echo in his auditours ears a good while after. And when Catechist of Christ-Colledge, in expounding the Commandments,* 1.103 applied them so home, able almost to make his hearers hearts fall down, and hairs to stand upright. But in his older age he altered his voice, and remitted much of his for∣mer rigidnesse, often professing that to preach mercie was that proper office of the Ministers of the Go∣spell.

Some octject that his Doctrine, referring all to an absolute decree, hamstrings all industry, and cuts off the sinews of mens endeavours towards salvation. For ascribing all to the wind of Gods spirit, (which bloweth where it listeth) he leaveth nothing to the oars of mans diligence, either to help or hinder to the attaining of happinesse, but rather opens a wide doore to licentious security. Were this the hardest objection

against Perkins his doctrine, his own life was a suffi∣cient answer thereunto, so pious, so spotlesse, that Ma∣lice was afraid to bite at his credit, into which she knew her teeth could not enter.

H•• had a rare felicity in speedy reading of books, and as it were but turning them over would give an exac•• account of all considerables therein. So that as it were riding post thorow an Authour, he took strict no∣tice 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all passages, as if he had dwelt on them parti∣cularly; perusing books so speedily, one would think he read nothing; so accurately, one would think he read all.

He was of a cheerfull nature and pleasant dispositi∣on: Indeed to mere strangers he was reserved and close, suffering them to knock a good while before he would open himself unto them; but on the least ac∣quaintance he was merry and very familiar.

Besides his assiduity in preaching he wrote many books, extant at this day. And pity it was, that he set not forth more of them himself; for though some of his Orphan works lighted on good Guardians, yet all were not so happy; and indeed no nurse for a child to the own mother.

He dyed in the 44. yeare of his age of a violent fit of the stone. It hath been reported that he dyed in the conflict of a troubled conscience; which admit were so, had been no wonder. For God sometimes seem∣ingly leaves his Saints when they leave the world, plunging them on their death-beds in deep temptati∣ons, and casting their souls down to hell, to rebound the higher to heaven. Besides, the devil is most busie on the last day of his Term; and a Tenant to be outed cares not what mischief he doth. But here was no such matter.* 1.104 Indeed he alwayes cryed out Mercy Mercy: which some standers by misinterpreted for despair, as if he felt not Gods favour, because he call'd for it: whereas Mercy is a Grace which they hold the fastest,

that most catch after it. 'Tis true that many on lesse reason have expressed more confidence of their future happinesse, and have delivered themselves in larger speeches concerning the same. But who could ex∣pect a long oration from him, where every word was accented with pain in so sharp a disease.

His funeralls were solemnly and sumtuously per∣form'd of the sole charges of Christ-Colledge, which challenged, as she gave him his breeding, to pay for his buriall; the University and Town lovingly con∣tending which should expresse more sorrow thereat. Doctour Mountague, afterwards Bishop of Winche∣ster, preached his Funerall-Sermon, and excellently discharg'd the place, taking for his Text, Moses my ser∣vant is dead.

He was of a ruddy complexion, very fat and corpu∣lent, lame of his right hand; and yet this Ehud with a lefthanded pen did stab the Romish Cause, and * 1.105 as one saith,

Dextera quantumvis fuerat tibi manca, docendi Pollebas mira dexteritate tamen. Though nature thee of thy right hand bereft, Right well thou writest with thy hand that's left.

He was born the first, and dyed the last yeare of Queen Elisabeth, so that his life streamed in equall length with her reigne, and they both had their foun∣tains, and falls together.

I must not forget, how his books after his death were translated into most modern Christian lan∣guages. For though he excellently improved his talent in the English tongue, yet forreiners thought it but wrapt up in a napkin, whilest folded in an unknown language. Wherefore some translated the main body of his works into French, Dutch, and Italian; and his books speak more tongues, then the Maker ever un∣derstood. His Reformed Catholick was done into Spa∣nish, and no Spaniard ever since durst take up that

gantlet of defiance our Champion cast down: yea their Inquisition rather chose to answer it with tor∣tures, then arguments.

CHAP. 11. The good Parishioner.

WE will onely describe his Church-reference; his Civill part hath and shall be met with under other Heads. Conceive him to live under such a faithfull Minister as before was character'd, as, either judging charitably that all Pastours are such, or wishing heartily that they were.

Though near to the Church he is not farre from God.* 1.106 Like unto Justus, Acts 18.8. One that worshipped God, and his house joyned hard to the Synagogue. Otherwise if his distance from the church be great, his diligence is the greater to come thither in season.

He is timely at the beginning of Common prayer.* 1.107 Yet as * 1.108Tullie Charged some dissolute people for being such sluggards that they never saw the sunne rising or setting, as being alwayes up after the one, and abed before the other; so some negligent people never heare prayers begun, or sermon ended: the Con∣fession being past before they come, and the Blessing not come before they are passed away.

In sermon he sets himself to heare God in the Minister.* 1.109 Therefore divesteth he himself of all prejudice, the jaundise in the eyes of the soul presenting colours false unto it. He hearkens very attentively: 'Tis a shame when the Church it self is Coemeterium, wherein the living sleep above ground as the dead do be∣neath.

At every Point that concerns himself,* 1.110 he turns down a leaf in his heart; and rejoyceth that Gods word hath peirc'd him, as hoping that whilest his soul smarts it heals. And as it is no manners for him that hath good ve∣nison

before him, to ask whence it came, but rather fairly to fall to it; so hearing an excellent Sermon, he never enquires whence the Preacher had it, or whether it was not before in print, but falls aboard to practise it.

* 1.111He accuseth not his Minister of spight for particularizing him. It does not follow that the archer aimed, because the ar∣row hit. Rather our Parishioner reasoneth thus; If my sinne be notorious, how could the Minister misse it? if secret, how could he hit it without Gods direction? But foolish hearers make even the bells of Aarons gar∣ments to clink as they think. And a guilty conscience is like a whirlpool, drawing in all to it self which otherwise would passe by. One, causelessely disaffected to his Minister, complained that he in his last Sermon had personally inveighed against him, and accused him thereof to a grave religious Gentleman in the parish: Truly, said the Gentleman, I had thought in his Sermon he had meant me, for it touched my heart. This reba∣ted the edge of the others anger.

* 1.112His Tithes he payes willingly with cheerfulnesse. How ma∣ny part with Gods portions grudgingly, or else pinch it in the paying. * 1.113 Decimum, the Tenth, amongst the Romanes was ever taken for what was best or biggest. It falls out otherwise in paying of Tithes, where the least and leanest are shifted off to make that num∣ber.

* 1.114He hides not himself from any Parish-office which seeks for him. If chosen Churchwarden, he is not busily-idle, rather to trouble then reform, presenting all things but those which he should. If Overseer of the poore, he is carefull the rates be made indifferent (whose inequality oftentimes is more burthensome then the summe) and well disposed of. He measures not peo∣ples wants by their clamorous complaining, and dispenseth more to those that deserve then to them that onely need relief.

He is bountifull in contributing to the repair of Gods house.* 1.115 For though he be not of their opinion, who would have the Churches under the Gospell conform'd to the magnificence of Solomons Temple (whose porch would serve us for a Church) and adorn them so gaudily, that devotion is more distracted then rai∣sed, and mens souls rather dazeled, then lightened; yet he conceives it fitting that such sacred places should be handsomly and decently maintained: The rather because the climactericall yeare of many Churches from their first foundation, may seem to happen in our dayes; so old, that their ruine is threat∣ned if not speedily repaired.

He is respectfull to his Ministers widow and posterity for his sake.* 1.116 When the onely daughter of Peter Martyr was, through the riot and prodigality of her debauched husband, brought to extreme poverty, the * 1.117State of Zurick, out of gratefull remembrance of her Father, supported her with bountifull maintenance. My prayers shall be, that Ministers widows, and children may never stand in need of such relief, and may never want such relief when they stand in need.

CHAP. 12. The good Patron.

THat in the Primitive times (though I dare not say generally in all Churches) if not the sole choyce, at least the consent of the people was requi∣red in appointing of Ministers, may partly appear out of * 1.118 Scripture, more plainly out of * 1.119Cyprian, and is confessed by reverend * 1.120 D^r. Whitgift. These po∣pular elections were well discharged in those purer times, when men being scoured with constant per∣secution had little leasure to rust with factions, and when there were no baits for Corruption; the places of Ministers being then of great pains and perill,

& small profit. But dissension creeping in, in after-ages (the eyes of common people at the best but dimme through ignorance being wholly blinded with par∣tiality) it may seem their right of election was either devolved to, or assumed of the Bishop of the Dioces, who * 1.121 onely was to appoint Curates in eve∣ry parish. Afterwards to invite lay-men to build and endow Churches, the Bishops departed with their right to the lay Patrons according to the verse,

Patronum faciunt Dos, Aedificatio, Fundus. A Patron's he that did endow with lands, Or built the Church, or on whose ground it stands.

It being conceived reasonable that he who payed the Churches portion, should have the main stroke in providing her an husband. Then came Patronages to be annexed to Mannours, and by sale or descent to passe along with them; nor could any justly com∣plain thereof, if all Patrons were like him we de∣scribe.

* 1.122He counts the Living his to dispose, not to make profit of. He fears more to lapse his conscience, then his Li∣ving, fears more the committing then the discovery of Simony.

* 1.123A Benefice he sometimes giveth speedily, never rashly. Some are long in bestowing them out of state, because they love to have many suiters; others out of covetousnesse will not open their wares till all their chapmen are come together, pretending to take the more delibera∣tion.

* 1.124He is deaf to opportunity, if wanting desert. Yet is he not of the mind of Tamberlane the Scythian King, who never gave Office to any that sought for it: for desiring proceeds not alwayes from want of deserving; yea God himself likes well that his favours should be sued for. Our Patron chiefly respects piety, sufficiency, and promise of painfulnesse, whereby he makes his electi∣on. If he can by the same deed provide for Gods house

and his own familie, he counts it lawfull, but on no terms will preferre his dearest and nearest sonne or kinsman if unworthy.

He hates not onely direct simony,* 1.125 or rather Gehazisme, by the string, but also that which goes about by the bow. Ancient Councels present us with severall forms hereof.* 1.126 I find how the Patrons sonnes and nephews were wont to feed upon the Incumbent, and eat out the presentation in great banquets and dinners, till at last the Palentine Councel brought a voyder to such feasts, and made a canon against them. But the former ages were bung∣lers to the cunning contrivance of the simony-engineers of our times. O my soul come thou not into their secrets. As if they cared not to go to hell, so be it were not the nearest way, but that they might fetch a farre com∣passe round about. And yet father * 1.127 Campian must nreot carry it so clearly, who taxeth the Protestants for maintaining of ••imony. We confesse it a personall vice amongst us, but not to be charged as a Church-sinne, which by penall Laws it doth both prohibit and punish. Did Rome herein look upon the dust behind her own doores, she would have but little cause to call her neighbour slut. What saith the Epi∣gram?

An Petrus fuerat Romae sub judice lis est; Simonem Romae nemo fuisse negat. That Peter was at Rome, there's strife about it; That Simon was there, none did ever doubt it.

He hates corruption not onely in himself,* 1.128 but his servants. O∣therwise it will do no good for the Master to throw bribes away, if the Men catch them up at the first re∣bound, yea before ever they come to the ground. * 1.129 Cambden can tell you what Lord-Keeper it was in the dayes of Queen Elizabeth, who though himself an upright man was hardly spoken of for the basenesse of his servants in the sale of Ecclesiasticall prefer∣ments.

* 1.130When he hath freely bestowed a Living, he makes no boasts of it. To do this were a kind of spirituall simony, to ask and receive applause of others; as if the commonnesse of faulting herein made a right, and the rarity of gi∣ving things freely merited ex condigno a generall com∣mendation. He expects nothing from the Clerk he presented but his prayers to God for him, respectfull carriage towards him, and painfulnesse in his Calling, who having gotten his place freely may discharge it the more faithfully: whereas those will scarce afford to feed their sheep fat, who rent the pasture at too high a rate.

To conclude, let Patrons imitate this particular ex∣ample of King William Rufus, who (though sacrile∣gious in other acts) herein discharged a good consci∣ence. Two Monks came to him to buy an Abbots place of him, seeking to outvie each other in offering great summes of money, whilest a third Monk stood by, and said nothing. To whom said the King, What wilt thou give for the place. Not a penny, answered he, for it is against my conscience; but here I stay to wait home on him whom your Royall pleasure shall de∣signe Abbot. Then quoth the King, Thou of the three best deservest the place, and shalt have it, and so be∣stowed it on him.

CHAP. 13. The good Landlord.

IS one that lets his land on a reasonable rate, so that the Tenant by employing his stock, and using his industry, may make an honest livelihood thereby, to maintain himself and his children.

His rent doth quicken his Tenant but not gall him.* 1.131 Indeed 'tis observed, that where Landlords are very easy, the Tenants (but this is per Accidens, out of their own lazi∣nesse) seldome thrive, contenting themselves to make up the just measure of their rent, and not labouring for any surplusage of estate. But our Landlord puts some metall into his Tenants industry, yet not grating him too much, lest the Tenant revenge the Landlords cruelty to him upon his land.

Yet he raiseth his rents (or fines equivalent) in some proporti∣on to the present price of other commodities.* 1.132 The plenty of money makes a seeming scarcity of all other things, and wares of all sorts do daily grow dear. If therefore our Landlord should let his rents stand still as his Grandfather left them, whilest other wares dayly go on in price, he must needs be cast farre behind in his estate.

What he sells or sets to his Tenant,* 1.133 he suffers him quietly to enjoy according to his covenants. This is a great joy to a Te∣nant, though he buyes dear to possesse without distur∣bance. A strange example there was of Gods punish∣ing a covetous Landlord at * 1.134 Rye in Sussex, Anno 1570. He having a certain marish, wherein men on poles did dry their fishnets, received yearly of them a suf∣ficient summe of money, till not content therewith he caused his servant to pluck up the poles, not suffering the fishermen to use them any longer, except they would compound at a greater rate. But it came to passe the same night that the sea breaking in

covered the same marish with water, and so it still con∣tinueth.

* 1.135He detests and abhorres all inclosure with depopulation. And because this may seem a matter of importance, we will break it into severall propositions.

• 1 Inclosure may be made without depopulating. Infinites of examples shew this to be true. But depopula∣tion hath cast a slander on inclosure, which be∣cause often done with it, people suspect it cannot be done without it.
• 2 Inclosure made without depopulating is injurious to none. I mean if proportionable allotments be made to the poore for their commonage, and free & lease-holders have a considerable share with the lord of the mannour.
• 3 Inclosure without depopulating is beneficiall to private per∣sons. Then have they most power and comfort to improve their own parts, and for the time, and manner thereof may mould it to their own con∣veniencie. The Monarch of one acre will make more profit thereof then he that hath his share in fourty in common.
• 4 Inclosure without depopulating is profitable to the Common∣wealth. If injurious to no private person, and pro∣fitable to them all, it must needs be beneficiall to the Commonwealth, which is but the Summa totalis of sundry persons, as severall figures. Besides, if a Mathematician should count the wood in the hedges, to what a mighty forrest would it a∣mount? This underwood serves for supplies to save timber from burning, otherwise our wooden walls in the water must have been sent to the fire. Adde to this the strength of an inclosed Countrey against a forrein invasion. Hedges and counter-hedges (having in number what they want in height and depth) serve for barracadoes, and will stick as birdlime in the wings of the horse,

• and scotch the wheeling about of the foot. Small resistance will make the enemy to earn every mile of ground as he marches. Object not, That in∣closure destroyes tillage, the staff of a countrey, for it need not all be converted to pasturage. Cain and Abel may very well agree in the Commonwealth, the Plowman and Shepherd part the inclosures betwixt them.
• 5 Inclosure with depopulation is a canker to the Common∣wealth. It needs no proof: wofull experience shews how it unhouses thousands of people, till desperate need thrusts them on the gallows. Long since had this land been sick of a plurisie of people, if not let blood in their Western Plantati∣ons.
• 6 Inclosure with depopulation endammageth the parties them∣selves. 'Tis a paradox and yet a truth, that reason shews such inclosures to be gainfull, and expe∣rience proves them to be losse to the makers. It may be, because God being 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, a Lo∣ver of man, mankind, and mens society, and ha∣ving said to them, Multiply and increase, counts it an affront unto him, that men depopulate, and whereas bees daily swarm, men make the hives fewer. The margin shall direct you to the * 1.136 Au∣thour that counts eleven mannours in North∣hamptonshire thus inclosed: which towns have vomited out (to use his own expression) and un∣burthened themselves of their former desolating and depopulating owners, and I think of their posterity.

He rejoyceth to see his Tenants thrive.* 1.137 Yea he counts it a great honour to himself, when he perceiveth that God blesseth their endeavours, and that they come forward in the world. I close up all with this pleasant story. A Farmer rented a Grange generally reported to be haun∣ted by Faries, and paid a shrewd rent for the same at

each half years end. Now a Gentleman asked him how he durst be so hardy as to live in the house, and whether no Spirits did trouble him. Truth (said the Farmer) there be two Saints in heaven vex me more then all the devils in hell, namely the Virgin Mary, and Michael the Arch∣angel; on which dayes he paid his rent.

CHAP. 14. The good Master of a Colledge.

THe Jews Anno 1348. were banished out of most countreys of Christendome, principally for poy∣soning of springs and * 1.138 fountains. Grievous there∣fore is their offense, who infect Colledges, the foun∣tains of learning and religion; and it concerneth the Church and State, that the Heads of such houses be rightly qualified, such men as we come to chara∣cter.

* 1.139His learning if beneath eminency is farre above contempt. Sometimes ordinary scholars make extraordinary good Masters. every one who can play well on Apollo's harp cannot skilfully drive his chariot, there being a peculiar mystery of Government. Yea as a lit∣tle allay makes gold to work the better, so (per∣chance) some dulnesse in a man makes him fitter to manage secular affairs; and those who have climbed up Parnassus but half way better behold worldly busi∣nesse (as lying low and nearer to their sight) then such as have climbed up to the top of the mount.

* 1.140He not onely keeps the Statutes (in his study) but observes them: for the maintaining of them will maintain him, if he be questioned. He gives them their true dimen∣sions, not racking them for one, and shrinking them for another, but making his conscience his daily Visi∣tour. He that breaks the Statutes, and thinks to rule better by his own discretion, makes many gaps in the hedge, and then stands to stop one of them with a

stake in his hand. Besides, thus to confound the will of the dead Founders, is the ready way to make living mens charitie (like S^r Hugh Willoughby in discover∣ing the Northern passage) to be frozen to death, and will dishearten all future Benefactours.

He is principall Porter,* 1.141 and chief Chappell-monitour. For where the Master keeps his chamber alwayes, the scholars will keep theirs seldome, yea perchance may make all the walls of the Colledge to be gate. He seeks to avoid the inconvenience when the gates do rather divide then confine the scholars, when the Col∣ledge is distinguished (as France into Cis & Transalpina) into the part on this, and on the otherside of the walls. As for out-lodgings (like galleries, necessary evils in populous Churches) he rather tolerates then approves them.

In his Elections he respecteth merit,* 1.142 not onely as the condition but as the cause thereof. Not like Leofricus Abbot of S. Albans, who would scarce admit any into his Covent though well deserving, except he was a * 1.143 Gentleman born. He more respects literature in a scholar, then great mens letters for him. A learned Master of a Colledge in Cambridge (since made a reverend Bishop, and, to the great grief of good men and great losse of Gods Church, lately deceased) refused a Man∣date for choosing of a worthlesse man fellow. And when it was expected, that at the least he should have been outed of his Mastership for this his contempt, King James highly commended him, and encouraged him ever after to follow his own conscience, when the like occasion should be given him.

He winds up the Tenants to make good musick,* 1.144 but not to break them. Sure Colledge-lands were never given to fat the Tenants and sterve the scholars, but that both might comfortably subsist. Yea generally I heare the Muses commended for the best Landladies, and a Col∣ledge-lease is accounted but as the worst kind of free∣hold.

* 1.145He is observant to do all due right to Benefactours. If not piety, policy would dictate this unto him. And though he respects not Benefactours kinsmen, when at their first admission they count themselves born heirs apparent to all preferment which the house can heap on them, and therefore grow lazy & idle; yet he counts their alliance, seconded with mediocrity of desert, a strong title to Colledge-advancement.

* 1.146He counts it lawfull to enrich himself, but in subordination to the Colledge good. Not like Varus, Governour of Syria, who came poore into the countrey, and found it rich, but departed thence rich, and left the countrey poore. Methinks 'tis an excellent commendation which Trinity Colledge in Cambridge in her records be∣stows on Doctour Still once Master thereof. Se ferebat Patremfamilias providum, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, nec Collegio gravis fuit aut onerosus.

* 1.147He disdains to nourish dissension amongst the members of his house. Let Machiavills Maxime, Divide & regnabis, if offering to enter into a Colledge-gate, sink thorow the grate, and fall down with the durt. For besides that the fomenting of such discords agrees not with a good conscience, each party will watch advantages, and Pupils will often be made to suffer for their Tutours quarrells: Studium partium will be magna pars studiorum, and the Colledge have more rents then revenues.

* 1.148He scorneth the plot, to make onely dunces Fellows, to the end he may himself command in chief. As thinking that they who know nothing, will do any thing, and so he shall be a figure amongst cyphers, a bee amongst drones. Yet oftentimes such Masters are justly met with, and they find by experience, that the dullest horses are not easiest to be reined. But our Master en∣deavours so to order his elections, that every Scholar may be fit to make a Fellow, and every Fellow a Ma∣ster.

CHAP. 14. The life of D^r. METCALF.

NIcholas Metcalf Doctour of Divinity, extracted out of an ancient and numerous family of Gentry in Yorkshire, was Archdeacon of Rochester, & Chaplain to John Fisher the Bishop thereof; by whom this our Doctour was employed to issue forth the monies for the building of S. Johns Colledge in Cam∣bridge. For Margaret Countesse of Richmond and Derby intending to graft S. Johns Colledge into the old stock of S. Johns Hospitall, referr'd all to the Bi∣shop of Rochester, and he used Metcalf as an agent in all proceedings which did concern that Foundati∣on: which will inferre him to be both a wise and an honest man.

Some make him to be but meanly * 1.149 learned; and * 1.150 one telleth us a long storie how a Sophister put a falla∣cie upon him, à sensu diviso ad sensum compositum, and yet the Doctours dimme eyes could not discern it. But such trifles were beneath him; and what wonder is it if a Generall long used in governing an armie, hath for∣gotten his school-play, and Fencers rules, to put by e∣very thrust?

Doubtlesse, had not his learning been sufficient, Bishop Fisher, a great clerk himself, would not have placed him to govern the Colledge. But we know that some count all others but dry scholars, whose learning run∣neth in a different channell from their own: and it is possible, that the great distance betwixt men in matter of Religion might hinder the new learning in one to see the old learning in the other.

But grant that Metcalf, with Themistocles, could not fiddle, yet he could make a little city a great one: though dull in himself, he could whet others by his encouragement. He found the Colledge spending

scarce two hundred marks by the yeare, he left it spend∣ing a * 1.151 thousand marks and more. For he not onely procured and settled many donations, and by-founda∣tions (as we term them) of Fellowships, and Scho∣larships, founded by other; but was a Benefactour himself, Pro certis ornamentis & structuris in Capella, & pro aedificatione sex Camerarum à tergo Coquinae, &c. as it is evi∣denced in the Colledge books. He counted the Col∣ledge his own home, and therefore cared not what cost he bestowed on it: not like those Masters, who ma∣king their Colledges as steps to higher advancement will trample on them to raise up themselves, and using their wings to flie up to their own honour, cannot af∣ford to spread them to brood their Colledge. But the thriving of the nourcery, is the best argument to prove the skill and care of the nource. See what store of worthy men the house in his time did yield:

Statesmen.

• William Cecill, Lord Burly,
• S^r. John Cheek,
• Walter Haddon.

• Ralph Bain, Bishop of Coventrie and Lichfield
• John Christopherson, Bishop of Chichester,
• Robert Horn, Bishop of Winton,
• James Pilkinton, Bishop of Duresme,
• John Tailour, Bishop of Lincoln,
• Thomas Watson. Bishop of Lincoln.

Learned writers.

• Roger Ascham,
• George * 1.152 Bullock,
• Roger * 1.153 Hutchinson,
• Alban Langdale,
• John Seaton.

Learned Men.

• Hugh Fitz-Herbert,
• William Jreland,
• Laurence Pilkinton,
• —Tomson,
• Henry Wright.

With very many more. For though I dare not say that all these were old enough to bear fruit in Metcalfs time, yet sure I am by him they were inoculated, and in his dayes admitted into the Colledge.

Yet for all these his deserts Metcalf in his old age was expell'd the Colledge, and driven out when he could scarce go. A new generation grew up (advan∣ced by him) whose active spirits stumbled at his gra∣vity (young seamen do count ballast needlesse yea burthensome in a ship) and endeavoured his removall. It appears not what particular fault they laid to his charge. Some think that the Bishop of Rochester his good lord being put to death, occasioned his ruine, Fishers misfortune being Metcalfs highest misdemea∣nour. He sunk with his Patron, and when his sunne was set it was presently night with him: for according to the Spanish proverb, * 1.154 where goes the bucket, there goes the rope, where the principall miscarries, all the depen∣dants fall with him.

Others conceive it was for his partiality in prefer∣ring Northern men, as if in his compasse there were no points but such onely as looked to the North, ad∣vancing alone his own countrey-men, and more re∣specting their need then deserts. Indeed long * 1.155 before, I find William Millington first Provost of Kings Col∣ledge put out of his place, for his partiality in electing Yorkshire men.

But herein Metcalf is sufficiently justified: for he found Charity hottest in the cold countrey, Northern men were most * 1.156 partiall (saith one) in giving lands to the Colledge, for the furtherance of learning. Good rea∣son therefore Northern Scholars should be most watered there, where Northern Benefactours rained most.

Well, good old Metcalf must forsake the House. Methinks the blushing bricks seem asham'd of their ingratitudes, and each doore, window, and case∣ment

in the Colledge, was a mouth to plead for him.

But what shall we say? Mark generally the grand deservers in States, and you shall find them lose their lustre before they end their life. The world, out of covetousnesse to save charges to pay them their wages, quarrelling with them, as if an over-merit were an offence. And whereas some impute this to the malignant influence of the heavens, I ascribe it rather to a pestilent vapour out of the earth; I mean, That rather men then starres are to be blamed for it.

He was twenty years Master, and on the 4 day of June 1537. went out of his office, and it seems dyed soon after: his Epitaph is fastned on a piece of brasse on the wall, in the Colledge-Chappell. We must not for∣get that all who were great doers in his expulsion, were great sufferers afterwards, and dyed all in great * 1.157 miserie. There is difference betwixt prying into Gods secrets, and being stark blind: Yea I question whether we are not bound to look where God points by so memorable a judgement, shewing that those branches most justly whithered which pluck'd up their own root.

CHAP. 16. The good Schoolmaster.

THere is scarce any profession in the Common∣wealth more necessary, which is so slightly per∣formed. The reasons whereof I conceive to be these: first, young scholars make this calling their refuge, yea perchance before they have taken any degree in the University, commence Schoolmasters in the countrey, as if nothing else were required to set up this professi∣on but onely a rod and a ferula. Secondly, others who are able use it onely as a passage to better preferment, to patch the rents in their present fortune, till they can provide a new one, and betake themselves to some more gainfull calling. Thirdly, they are disheartned from doing their best with the miserable reward which in some places they receive, being Masters to the children, and slaves to their parents. Fourthly, be∣ing grown rich, they grow negligent, and scorn to touch the school, but by the proxie of an Usher. But see how well our Schoolmaster behaves himself.

His genius inclines him with delight to this profession.* 1.158 Some men had as lieve be schoolboyes as Schoolma∣sters, to be tyed to the school as Coopers Dictionary, and Scapula's Lexicon are chained to the desk therein; and though great scholars, and skilfull in other arts, are bunglers in this: But God of his goodnesse hath fitted severall men for severall callings, that the necessi∣ties of Church, and State, in all conditions may be provided for. So that he who beholds the fabrick thereof may say, God hewed out this stone, and ap∣pointed it to lie in this very place, for it would fit none other so well, and here it doth most excellent. And thus God mouldeth some for a Schoolmasters life, un∣dertaking it with desire and delight, and discharging it with dexterity and happy successe.

* 1.159He studieth his scholars natures as carefully as they their books; and ranks their dispositions into severall forms. And though it may seem difficult for him in a great school to descend to all particulars, yet experienced Schoolmasters may quickly make a Grammar of boyes natures, and reduce them all (saving some few exceptions) to these generall rules.

• 1 Those that are ingenious and industrious. The conjunction of two such Planets in a youth pre∣sage much good unto him. To such a lad a frown may be a whipping, and a whipping a death; yea where their Master whips them once, shame whips them all the week after. Such na∣tures he useth with all gentlenesse.
• 2 Those that are ingenious and idle. These think with the hare in the fable, that running with snails (so they count the rest of their school-fel∣lows) they shall come soon enough to the Post, though sleeping a good while before their start∣ing. Oh, a good rod would finely take them nap∣ping.
• 3 Those that are dull and diligent. Wines the stronger they be the more lees they have when they are new. Many boyes are muddy-headed till they be clarified with age, and such afterwards prove the best. Bristoll diamonds are both bright, and squared and pointed by Nature, and yet are soft and worthlesse; whereas orient ones in India are rough and rugged naturally. Hard rugged and dull natures of youth acquit them∣selves afterwards the jewells of the countrey, and therefore their dulnesse at first is to be born with, if they be diligent. That Schoolmaster de∣serves to be beaten himself, who beats Nature in a boy for a fault. And I question whether all the whipping in the world can make their parts, which are naturally sluggish, rise one minute before the houre Nature hath appointed.
• ...

• 4 Those that are invincibly dull and negligent also. Correction may reform the latter, not amend the former. All the whetting in the world can never set a rasours edge on that which hath no steel in it. Such boyes he consigneth over to other professions. Ship∣wrights and boatmakers will choose those crooked pieces of timber, which other carpenters refuse. Those may make excellent merchants and mechanicks which will not serve for Scho∣lars.

He is able,* 1.160 diligent, and methodicall in his teaching; not leading them rather in a circle then forwards. He minces his precepts for children to swallow, hanging clogs on the nimblenesse of his own soul, that his Scholars may go along with him.

He is,* 1.161 and will be known to be an absolute Monarch in his school. If cockering Mothers proffer him money to pur∣chase their sonnes an exemption from his rod (to live as it were in a peculiar, out of their Masters jurisdicti∣on) with disdain he refuseth it, and scorns the late custome in some places of commuting whipping into money, and ransoming boyes from the rod at a set price. If he hath a stubborn youth, correction-proof, he debaseth not his authority by contesting with him, but fairly if he can puts him away before his obstina∣cy hath infected others.

He is moderate in inflicting deserv'd correction.* 1.162 Many a Shoolmaster better answereth the name of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 then 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, rather tearing his scholars flesh with whipping, then giving them good education. No wonder if his scholars hate the Muses, being presented unto them in the shapes of fiends and furies. Junius complains de insolenti* 1.163 carnificina of his Schoolmaster, by whom conscindebatur flagris septies aut octies in dies sin∣gulos. Yea heare the lamentable verses of poore Tusser in his own life:

From Pauls I went, to Eaton sent, To learn straightwayes the Latine phrase, Where fifty three stripes given to me At once I had. For fault but small, or none at all, It came to passe thus beat I was; See, * 1.164 Vdal, see the mercy of thee To me poore lad.

Such an Orbilius marres more Scholars then he makes: Their Tyranny hath caused many tongues to stammer, which spake plain by nature, and whose stuttering at first was nothing else but fears quavering on their speech at their Masters presence. And whose mauling them about their heads hath dull'd those who in quicknesse exceeded their Master.

* 1.165He makes his school free to him, who sues to him in forma pauperis. And surely Learning is the greatest alms that can be given. But he is a beast, who because the poore Scholar cannot pay him his wages, payes the Scholar in his whipping. Rather are diligent lads to be encou∣raged with all excitements to Learning. This minds me of what I have heard concerning M^r. Bust, that worthy late Schoolmaster of Eaton, who would never suffer any wandring begging Scholar (such as justly the Statute hath ranked in the forefront of Rogues) to come into his school, but would thrust him out with earnestnesse (however privately charitable unto him) lest his school-boyes should be disheartned from their books, by seeing some Scholars after their studying in the University preferr'd to beggery.

* 1.166He spoyls not a good school to make thereof a bad Colledge, therein to teach his Scholars Logick. For besides that Logick may have an action of trespasse against Gram∣mar for encroaching on her liberties, Syllogismes are Solecismes taught in the school, and oftentimes they are forc'd afterwards in the University to unlearn the fumbling skill they had before.

Out of his school he is no whit pedanticall in carriage or dis∣course;* 1.167 contenting himself to be rich in Latine, though he doth not gingle with it in every company wherein he comes.

To conclude, Let this amongst other motives make Schoolmasters carefull in their place, that the eminen∣cies of their Scholars have commended the memories of their Schoolmasters to posterity, who otherwise in obscurity had altogether been forgotten. Who had ever heard of R. * 1.168 Bond in Lancashire but for the breeding of learned Ascham his Scholar? or of* 1.169 Hartgrave in Brundly school, in the same Coun∣ty, but because he was the first did teach worthy Doctour Whitaker. Nor do I honour the memory of Mulcaster for any thing so much, as for his Scholar, that gulf of learning, Bishop Andrews. This made the Athenians, the day before the great feast of Theseus their founder, to sacrifice a ramme to the me∣mory of * 1.170 Conidas his Schoolmaster that first instru∣cted him.

CHAP. 17. The Good Merchant

IS one who by his trading claspeth the iland to the continent, and one countrey to another. An excel∣lent gardiner, who makes England bear wine, and oyl, and spices; yea herein goes beyond Nature in causing that Omnis fert omnia tellus. He wrongs neither himself, nor the Commonwealth, nor private chap∣men which buy commodities of him. As for his be∣haviour towards the Commonwealth, it farre surpasses my skill to give any Rules thereof; onely this I know, that to export things of necessity, and to bring in for∣rein needlesse toyes, makes a rich Merchant, and a poore Kingdome: for the State loseth her radicall moysture, and gets little better then sweat in exchange,

except the necessaries which are exported be exceeding plentifull, which then though necessary in their own nature become superfluous through their abundance. We will content our selves to give some generall ad∣vertisements concerning his behaviour towards his chapmen, whom he useth well in the quantity, quali∣ty, and price of the commodities he sells them.

* 1.171He wrongs not the buyer in Number, Weight, or Measure. These are the Land-marks of all trading, which must not be removed: for such cosenage were worse then o∣pen felony. First, because they rob a man of his purse, & never bid him stand. Secondly, because highway-thieves defie, but these pretend justice. Thirdly, as much as lies in their power, they endeavour to make God accessary to their cosenage, deceiving by pretending his weights. For God is the principall clark of the market, All the * 1.172 weights of the bag are his work.

* 1.173He never warrants any ware for good but what is so indeed. Otherwise he is a thief, and may be a murtherer, if sel∣ling such things as are apply'd inwardly. Besides, in such a case he counts himself guilty if he selleth such wares as are bad, though without his knowledge, if a∣vouching them for good; because he may, professeth, & is bound to be Master in his own mystery, and there∣fore in conscience must recompence the buyers losse, except he gives him an Item to buy it at his own ad∣venture.

* 1.174He either tells the faults in his ware, or abates proportionably in the price he demands: for then the low value shews the viciousnesse of it. Yet commonly when Merchants depart with their commodities, we heare (as in funerall orations) all the virtues but none of the faults thereof.

* 1.175He never demands out of distance of the price he intends to take: If not alwayes within the touch, yet within the reach of what he means to sell for. Now we must know there be foure severall prices of vendible things. First, the Price of the market, which ebbes and flows

according to the plenty or scarcity of coyn, commodi∣ties, and chapmen. Secondly, the Price of friendship, which perchance is more giving then selling, and therefore not so proper at this time. Thirdly, the Price of fancie, as twenty pounds or more for a dog or hauk, when no such inherent worth can naturally be in them, but by the buyers and sellers fancie reflecting on them. Yet I believe the money may be lawfully taken. First, because the seller sometimes on those terms is as loth to forgo it, as the buyer is willing to have it. And I know no standard herein whereby mens affections may be measured. Secondly, it being a matter of pleasure, and men able and willing, let them pay for it, Volenti non fit injuria. Lastly, there is the Price of cosenage, which our Merchant from his heart detests and abhorres.

He makes not advantage of his chapmans ignorance,* 1.176 chiefly if referring himself to his honesty: where the sellers conscience is all the buyers skill, who makes him both seller and judge, so that he doth not so much ask as order what he must pay. When one told old Bishop Latimer that the Cutler had cosened him, in making him pay two∣pence for a knife not (in those dayes) worth a peny; No, quoth Latimer, he cosen'd not me but his own conscience. On the other side S. * 1.177 Augustine tells us of a seller, who out of ignorance asked for a book farre lesse then it was worth, and the buyer (conceive himself to be the man if you please) of his own accord gave him the full value thereof.

He makes not the buyer pay the shot for his prodigality;* 1.178 as when the Merchant through his own ignorance or ill husbandry hath bought dear, he will not bring in his unnecessary expences on the buyers score: and in such a case he is bound to sell cheaper then he bought.

Selling by retail he may justifie the taking of greater gain:* 1.179 be∣cause of his care, pains, and cost of fetching those

wares from the fountain, and in parcelling and divi∣ding them. Yet because retailers trade commonly with those who have least skill what they buy, and com∣monly sell to the poorer sort of people, they must be carefull not to grate on their necessity.

But how long shall I be retailing out rules to this Merchant? It would employ a Casuist an apprentiship of years: take our Saviours whole-sale rule, Whatsoever ye would have men do unto you, do you unto them; for this is the Low, and the Prophets.

CHAP. 18. The good Yeoman

IS a Gentleman in Ore, whom the next age may see refined; and is the wax capable of a gentile im∣pression, when the Prince shall stamp it. Wise Solon (who accounted * 1.180 Tellus the Athenian the most happy man for living privately on his own lands) would surely have pronounced the English Yeomanry, a for∣tunate condition, living in the temperate Zone, be∣twixt greatnesse and want, an estate of people almost peculiar to England. France and Italy are like a die, which hath no points betwixt sink and ace, Nobility and Pesantry. Their walls though high, must needs be hollow, wanting filling-stones. Indeed Germany hath her Boores, like our Yeomen, but by a tyranni∣call appropriation of Nobility to some few ancient fa∣milies, their Yeomen are excluded from ever rising higher to clarifie their bloods. In England the Tem∣ple of Honour is bolted against none, who have passed through the Temple of Virtue: nor is a capacity to be gentile denyed to our Yeoman, who thus behaves himself.

* 1.181He wears russet clothes, but makes golden payment, having tinne in his buttons, and silver in his pocket. If he chance to appear in clothes above his rank, it is to

grace some great man with his service, and then he blusheth at his own bravery. Otherwise he is the surest landmark, whence forreiners may take aim of the an∣cient English customes; the Gentry more floting after forrein fashions.

In his house he is bountifull both to strangers,* 1.182 and poore people. Some hold, when Hospitality dyed in England, she gave her last groan amongst the Yeomen of Kent. And still at our Yeomans table you shall have as many joints as dishes: No meat disguis'd with strange sau∣ces; no straggling joynt of a sheep in the midst of a pa∣sture of grasse, beset with sallads on every side, but so∣lid substantiall food; no serviters (more nimble with their hands then the guests with their teeth) take away meat, before stomachs are taken away. Here you have that which in it self is good, made better by the store of it, and best by the welcome to it.

He hath a great stroke in making a Knight of the shire.* 1.183 Good reason, for he makes a whole line in the subsidie-book, where whatsoever he is rated he payes without any regret, not caring how much his purse is let blood, so it be done by the advise of the physicians of the State.

He seldome goes farre abroad,* 1.184 and his credit stretcheth further then his travell. He goes not to London, but se defenden∣do, to save himself of a fine, being returned of a Jurie, where seeing the King once, he prayes for him ever af∣terwards.

In his own countrey he is a main man in Iuries.* 1.185 Where if the Judge please to open his eyes in matter of law, he needs not to be led by the nose in matters of fact. He is very observant of the Judges item, when it follows the truths inprimis; otherwise (though not mutinous in a Jurie) he cares not whom he displeaseth so he plea∣seth his own conscience.

He improveth his land to a double value by his good husbandry.* 1.186 Some grounds that wept with water, or frown'd with

thorns, by draining the one, and clearing the other, he makes both to laugh and sing with corn. By marle and limestones burnt he bettereth his ground, and his industry worketh miracles, by turning stones into bread. Conquest and good husbandry both inlarge the Kings Dominions: The one by the sword, ma∣king the acres more in number; the other by the plough, making the same acres more in value. Solomon saith, The King himself is maintained by husbandry. Pythis * 1.187 a King having discovered rich mines in his king∣dome, employed all his people in digging of them, whence tilling was wholly neglected, insomuch as a great famine ensued. His Queen, sensible of the cala∣mities of the countrey, invited the King her husband to dinner, as he came home hungry from overseeing his workmen in the mines. She so contrived it, that the bread and meat were most artificially made of gold; and the King was much delighted with the conceit thereof, till at last he called for reall meat to sa∣tisfie his hunger. Nay, said the Queen, if you employ all your subjects in your mines, you must expect to feed upon gold, for nothing else can your kingdome afford.

* 1.188In time of famine he is the Ioseph of the countrey, and keeps the poore from sterving. Then he tameth his stacks of corn, which not his covetousnesse but providence hath re∣serv'd for time of need, and to his poore neighbours abateth somewhat of the high price of the market. The neighbour gentry court him for his acquaintance, which he either modestly waveth, or thankfully accept∣eth, but no way greedily desireth. He insults not on the ruines of a decayed Gentleman, but pities and relieves him: and as he is called Goodman, he desires to answer to the name, and to be so indeed.

* 1.189In warre, though he serveth on foot, he is ever mounted on an high spirit: as being a slave to none, and a subject one∣ly to his own Prince. Innocence and independance make a brave spirit: Whereas otherwise one must

ask his leave to be valiant on whom he depends. Therefore if a State run up all to Noblemen and Gen∣tlemen, so that the husbandmen be onely mere la∣bourers, or cottagers, (which * 1.190 one calls but hous'd beggers) it may have good Cavalry, but never good bands of foot; so that their armies will be like those birds call'd Apodes, without feet, alwayes onely flying on their wings of horse. Wherefore to make good In∣fantry, it requireth men bred, not in a servile or indi∣gent fashion, but in some free and plentifull manner. Wisely therefore did that knowing Prince, King Hen∣ry the seventh, provide laws for the increase of his Yeomanry, that his kingdome should not be like to Coppice-woods, where the staddles being left too thick, all runs to bushes and briers, and there's little clean underwood. For enacting, that houses used to husbandry should be kept up with a competent pro∣portion of land, he did secretly sow Hydra's teeth, whereupon (according to the Poets fiction) should rise up armed men for the service of this king∣dome.

Chap. 19. The Handicrafts-man.

HE is a necessary member in a Common-wealth: For though Nature, which hath armed most o∣ther creatures, sent man naked into the world, yet in giving him hands and wit to use them, in effect she gave him Shells, Scales, Paws, Claws, Horns, Tusks, with all offensive and defensive weapons of Beasts, Fish and Fowl, which by the help of his hands in imitati∣on he may provide for himself, and herein the skill of our Artisan doth consist.

His trade is such whereby he provides things necessary for man∣kind.* 1.191 What S. * 1.192 Paul saith of the naturall, is also true

of the politick body, those members of the body are much more necessary which seem most feeble. Mean trades for profit, are most necessary in the State; and a house may better want a gallery then a kitchin. The Philistins knew this when they massacred all the smiths in Israel (who might worse be spared then all the userers therein) and whose hammers nail the Com∣monwealth together, being necessary both in peace and warre.

* 1.193Or else his trade contributeth to mans lawfull pleasure. God is not so hard a master, but that he alloweth his ser∣vants sauce (besides hunger) to eat with their meat.

* 1.194But in no case will he be of such a trade which is a mere Pander to mans lust; and onely serves their wantonnesse (which is pleasure runne stark mad) and foolish curiosity. Yet are there too many extant of such professions, which, one would think, should stand in dayly fear lest the world should turn wise, and so all their trades be ca∣shierd, but that (be it spoken to their shame) 'tis as safe a tenure to hold a livelyhood by mens ryot, as by their necessity.

* 1.195The wares he makes shew good to the eye, but prove better in the use. For he knows if he sets his mark (the Tower-stamp of his credit) on any bad wares, he sets a deeper brand on his own conscience. Nothing hath more debased the credit of our English cloth beyond the seas, then the deceitfulnesse in making them, since the Fox hath crept under the fliece of the Sheep.

* 1.196By his ingenuousnesse he leaves his art better then he found it. Herein the Hollanders are excellent, where children get their living, when but newly they have gotten their life, by their industrie. Indeed Nature may seem to have made those Netherlanders the younger brethren of mankind, allowing them little land, and that also standing in dayly fear of a double deluge, of the sea

and the Spaniard: but such is their painfulnesse and ingenuity, hating lazinesse as much as they love liberty, that what commodities grow not on their Countrey by nature they graft on it by art, and have wonderfully improved all making of Manufactures, Stuffes, Clocks, Watches: these latter at first were made so great and heavy, it was rather a burden then an ornament to wear them, though since watches have been made as light and little, as many that were them make of their time.

He is wiling to communicate his skill to posterity.* 1.197 An in∣vention though found is lost if not imparted. But as it is reported of some old toads, that before their death they suck up the gelly in their own heads (which otherwise would be hardned into a pretious stone) out of spight, that men should receive no benifit there∣by; so some envious Artisans will have their cunning die with them, that none may be the better for it, and had rather all mankind should lose, then any man gain by them.

He seldome attaineth to any very great estate:* 1.198 except his trade hath some outlets and excursions into wholesale and merchandize; otherwise mere Artificers cannot heap up much wealth. It is difficult for gleaners, with∣out stealing whole sheaves, to fill a barn. His chief wealth consisteth in enough, and that he can live com∣fortably, and leave his children the inheritance of their education.

Yet he is a grand Benefactour to the Commonwealth.* 1.199 En∣gland in former ages, like a dainty dame, partly out of state, but more out of lazinesse, would not suckle the fruit of her own body, to make the best to battle and improve her own commodities, but put them out to nurse to the Netherlanders, who were well paid for their pains. In those dayes the Sword and the Plough so took up all mens imployments that clothing was whollie neglected, and scarce any other webs to be

found in houses, then what the spiders did make. But since she hath seen and mended her errour, making the best use of her own wooll; and indeed the riches of a kingdome doth consist in driving the home-com∣modities thereof as far as they will go, working them to their very perfection, imploying more handicrafts thereby. The sheep feeds more with his fliece then his flesh, doing the one but once, but the other once a yeare, many families subsisting by the working there∣of. Let not meaner persons be displeased with reading those verses wherewith Queen Elizabeth her self was so highly affected, when in the one and twentieth yeare of her * 1.200reigne she came in progresse to Norwich, wherein a child, representing the state of the City, spake to her Highnesse as followeth,

Most gratious Prince, undoubted Sovereigne Queen, Our onely joy, next God, and chief defence, In this small shew our whole estate is seen, The wealth we have, we find proceeds from hence: The idle hand hath here no place to feed, The painfull wight hath still to serve his need.

Again, our seat denies us traffick here, The sea too near decides us from the rest: So weak we were within this dozen yeare, That care did quench the courage of the best: But good advice hath taught these * 1.201 little hands To rend in twain the force of pining bands.

From combed wooll we draw this slender thred, From thence the looms have dealing with the same, And thence again in order do proceed These severall works which skilfull art doth frame: And all to drive dame Need into her cave Our heads and hands together laboured have.

We bought before the things which now we sell: These slender imps, their works do passe the waves: Gods peace and thine we hold, and prosper well, Of every mouth the hands the charges saves: Thus through thy help, and aid of power divine Doth Norwich live, whose hearts and goods are thine.

We have cause to hope that as we have seen the ci∣ties Dornicks and Arras brought over into England, so posterity may see all Flaunders brought hither, I mean that their works shall be here imitated, and that either our land shall be taught to bear forrein commo∣dities, or our people taught to forbear the using of them.

I should now come to give the description of the Day-Labourer (of whom we have onely a dearth in a plentifull harvest) but seeing his character is so co-incident with the hired servant, it may well be spa∣red. And now wee'l rise from the hand to the arm, and come to describe the Souldier.

CHAP. 19. The good Souldier.

A Souldier is one of a lawfull, necessary, com∣mendable, and honourable profession; yea God himself may seem to be one free of the com∣pany of Souldiers, in that he styleth himself, A man of warre. Now though many hate Souldiers as the twigs of the rod Warre, wherewith God scourgeth wanton countreys into repentance, yet is their calling so needfull, that were not some Soul∣diers we must be all Souldiers, dayly imployed to defend our own, the world would grow so licenti∣ous.

He keepeth a clear and quiet conscience in his breast,* 1.202 which o∣therwise will gnaw out the roots of all valour. For vicious Soul∣diers

are compassed with enemies on all sides, their foes without them, and an ambush within them of fleshly lusts, which, as S. Peter saith, fight against the soul. None fitter to go to warre, then those who have made their peace with God in Christ; for such a mans soul is an impregnable fort: It cannot be scaled with lad∣ders, for it reacheth up to heaven; nor be broken by batteries, for it is walled with brasse; nor undermined by pioners, for he is founded on a rock; nor betrayed by treason, for faith it self keeps it; nor be burnt by granadoes, for he can quench the fiery darts of the de∣vil; nor be forced by famine, for a good conscience is a con∣tinuall feast.

* 1.203He chiefly avoids those sinnes, to which Souldiers are tax∣ed as most subject. Namely common swearing, which impayreth ones credit by degrees, and maketh all his promises not to be trusted; for he who for no profit will sinne against God, for small profit will trespasse against his neighbour; drinking, whoring. When valiant Zisca, near Pilsen in Bohemia, fought against his enemies, he commanded the women which followed his army, to cast their kerchiefs and partlets on the ground, wherein their enemies being entangled by their spurres (for though horsmen, they were forced to alight, and fight on foot, through the roughnesse of the place) were slain before they could * 1.204 unloose their feet. A deep morall may be gathered hence, and women have often been the nets to catch and ensnare the souls of many Martiall men.

* 1.205He counts his Princes lawfull command to be his sufficient warrant to fight. In a defensive warre, when his countrey is * 1.206 hostilely invaded, 'tis pity but his neck should hang in suspence with his con∣science that doubts to fight; in offensive warre, though the case be harder, the common Souldier is not to dispute, but do * 1.207 his Princes command. Other∣wise

Princes, before they leavie an army of Souldiers, must first leavy an army of Casuists and Confessours to satisfie each scrupulous Souldier in point of right to the warre; and the most cowardly will be the most conscientious, to multiply doubts eternally. Besides, causes of warre are so complicated and perplex'd, so many things falling in the prosecution, as may alter the originall state thereof, and private Souldiers have neither calling nor ability to dive into such mysteries. But if the conscience of a Counsellour or Commander in chief remonstrates in himself the unlawfulnesse of this warre, he is bound humbly to represent to his Prince his reasons against it.

He esteemeth all hardship easy through hopes of victory.* 1.208 Moneys are the sinews of war, yet if these sinews should chance to be shrunk, and pay casually fall short, he takes a fit of this convulsion patiently; he is con∣tented though in cold weather his hands must be their own fire, and warm themselves with working; though he be better armed against their enemies then the weather, and his corslet wholler then his clothes; though he hath more Fasts and Vigills in his almanack then the Romish Church did ever enjoyn: he pati∣ently endureth drougth for desire of honour, and one thirst quencheth another. In a word, though much indebted to his own back and belly, and unable to pay them, yet he hath credit with himself, and confi∣dently runnes on ticket with himself, hoping the next victory will discharge all scores with advan∣tage.

He looks at and also through his wages,* 1.209 at Gods glory, and his countreys good. He counts his pay an honourable addition, but no valuable compensation for his pains: for what proportion is there betwixt foure shillings a∣week, and adventuring his life? I cannot see how their calling can be lawfull, who for greater wages will fight on any side against their own King and cause;

yea as false witnesses were hired against our blessed * 1.210 Saviour (money will make the mouths of men plead against their Maker) so were the Giants now in the world, who, as the Poets feigned, made warre against God himself, and should they offer great pay, they would not want mercenary Souldiers to assist them.

* 1.211He attends with all readinesse on the commands of his Gene∣rall; rendring up his own judgement in obedience to the will and pleasure of his Leader, and by an implicite faith believing all is best which he enjoyneth; lest other∣wise he be served as the French Souldier was in Scot∣land some eighty years since, who first mounted the bulwark of a fort besieged, whereupon ensued the gaining of the fort: but Marescal de * 1.212 Thermes, the French Generall, first knighted him, and then hanged him within an houre after, because he had done it without commandment.

* 1.213He will not in a bravery expose himself to needlesse perill. 'Tis madnesse to holloe in the ears of sleeping tem∣ptation, to awaken it against ones self, or to go out of his calling to find a danger: But if a danger meets him (as he walks in his vocation) he neither stands still, starts aside, nor steps backward, but either goes over it with valour, or under it with patience. All single Du∣els he detesteth, as having first no command in Gods Word; yea this arbitrary deciding causes by the sword subverts the fundamentall Laws of the Scripture: Se∣condly, no example in Gods Word, that of David and Goliah moving in an higher Sphere, as extraor∣dinary: Thirdly, it tempts God to work a Miracle for mans pleasure, and to invert the course of nature, whereby otherwise the stronger will beat the weaker: Fourthly, each Dueller challengeth his King as unable or unwilling legally to right him, and therefore he usurps the office himself: Fifthly, if slaying, he ha∣zards his neck to the halter; if slain, in heat of malice,

without repentance, he adventures his soul to the de∣vil.

Object. But there are some intricate cases (as in Titles of land) which cannot otherwise be deci∣ded. Seeing therefore that in such difficulties, the right in question cannot be delivered by the mid∣wifery of any judiciall proceedings, then it must (with Julius Caesar in his mothers belly) be cut out and be determined by the sword.

Answ. Such a right may better be lost, then to light a candle from hell to find it out, if the Judges cannot find a middle way to part in betwixt them. Besides, in such a case Duells are no medium proportionatum to find out the truth, as never ap∣pointed by God to that purpose. Nor doth it follow that he hath the best in right, who hath the best in fight; for he that reads the lawfulnesse of actions by their events, holds the wrong end of the book upwards.

Object. But suppose an army of thirty thousand In∣fidells ready to fight against ten thousand Chri∣stians, yet so that at last the Infidells are content∣ed to try the day upon the valour of a single Champion; whether in such a case may not a Christian undertake to combat with him, the ra∣ther because the treble oddes before is the reby re∣duced to terms of equalitie, and so the victory made more probable.

Answ. The victory was more probable before; be∣cause it is more likely God will blesse his own means, then means of mans appointing: and it is his prerogative to give victory, as well by few as by many. Probability of conquest is not to be measured by the eye of humane reason, contrary to the square of Gods Word. Besides, I question whether it be lawfull for a Christian army to de∣rive their right of fighting Gods battels to any

single man. For the title every man hath to pro∣mote Gods glory, is so invested and inherent in his own particular person, that he cannot passe it over to another. None may appear in Gods ser∣vice by an Atturney; and when Religion is at the stake, there must be no lookers on (except impo∣tent people, who also help by their prayers) and every one is bound to lay his shoulders to the work. Lastly, would to God no Duels might be fought till this case came into question. But how many dayly fall out upon a more false, slight, and flitting ground, then the sands of Callis whereon they fight: especially, seeing there is an honour∣able Court appointed, or some other equivalent way, for taking up such quarrells, and allowing reparations to the party injured.

Object. But Reputation is so spirituall a thing it is inestimable, and Honour falls not under valuati∣on: Besides, to complain to the civil Magistrate sheweth no manhood, but is like a childs crying to his father, when he is onely beaten by his e∣quall; and my enemies forc'd acknowledgement of his fault (enjoyn'd him by the Court) shews rather his submission to the laws then to me. But if I can civilize his rudenesse by my sword, and chastize him into submission, then he sings his penitentiall song in the true tune, and it comes naturally indeed.

Answ. Honourable persons in that Court are the most competent Judges of Honour, and though Credit be as tender as the apple of the eye, yet such curious oculists can cure a blemish therein. And why, I pray, is it more disgrace to repair to the Magistrate for redresse in Reputation, then to have recourse to him in actions of trespasse? The pretence of a forced submission is nothing, all submissions having aliquid violentum in them; and

even the Evangelicall repentance of Gods ser∣vants hath a mixture of legall terrour frighting them thereto.

Object. But Gownmen speak out of an antipathy they bear to fighting: should we be rul'd by them, we must break all our swords into pen∣knifes; and Lawyers, to inlarge their gains, send prohibitions to remove suits from the Camps to their Courts: Divines are not to be consulted with herein, as ignorant of the principles of Ho∣nour.

Answ. Indeed Honour is a word of course in the talk of roring boyes, and pure enough in it self, ex∣cept their mouths soil it by often using of it: But indeed God is the fountain of Honour, Gods Word the Charter of Honour, and godly men the best Judges of it; nor is it any stain of cow∣ardlinesse for one to fear hell and damnati∣on.

We may therefore conclude that the laws of Duel∣ling, as the laws of drinking, had their originall from the devil; and therefore the declining of needlesse quarrels in our Souldier, no abatement of Honour. I commend his discretion and valour, who walking in London-streetes met a gallant, who cryed to him a pretty distance beforehand, I will have the wall? Yea (an∣swered he) and take the house too, if you can but agree with the Landlord. But when God, and his Prince, calls for him, our Souldier

Had rather die ten times then once survive his credit.* 1.214 Though life be sweet, it shall not flatter the pallat of his soul, as with the sweetnesse of life to make him swallow down the bitternesse of an eternall disgrace: He begrutcheth not to get to his side a probability of victory by the certainty of his own death, and flieth from nothing so much as from the mention of flying. And though some say he is a mad-man that will pur∣chase

Honour so dearly with his bloud, as that he can∣not live to enjoy what he hath bought; our Souldier knows that he shall possesse the reward of his valour with God in heaven, and also making the world his executor, leave to it the rich inheritance of his memo∣ry.

* 1.215Yet in some cases he counts it no disgrace to yield, where it is impossible to conquer; as when swarms of enemies crowd about him, so that he shall rather be stifled then wounded to death: In such a case if quarter be offer∣ed him, he may take it with more honour then the other can give it; and if he throws up his desperate game, he may happily winne the next, whereas if he playeth it out to the last, he shall certainly lose it and himself. But if he be to fall into the hand of a barba∣rous enemy, whose giving him quarter is but repri∣ving him for a more ignominious death, he had rather disburse his life at the present, then to take day to fall into the hands of such remorslesse creditours.

* 1.216He makes none the object of his cruelty, which cannot be the object of his fear. Lyons they say (except forc'd with hunger) will not prey on women and children, * 1.217 though I would wish none to try the truth hereof: the truly va∣liant will not hurt women or infants, nor will they be cruell to old men. What conquest is it to strike him up, who stands but on one leg, and hath the other foot in the grave? But arrant cowards (such as would con∣quer victory it self, if it should stand in their way as they flie) count themselves never evenly match'd, ex∣cept they have threefold oddes on their side, and esteem their enemie never disarmed till they be dead. Such love to shew a nature steep'd in gall of passion, and display the ignoble tyrany of prevailing dastards: these being thus valiant against no resistance, will make no resistance when they meet with true valour.

* 1.218He counts it murther to kill any in cold bloud. Indeed in ta∣king Cities by assault (especially when Souldiers

have suffered long in an hard siege) it is pardonable what present passion doth with a sudden thrust; but a premeditated back-blow in cold bloud is base. Some excuse there is for bloud enraged, and no wonder if that scaldeth which boyleth: but when men shall call a consultation in their soul, and issue thence a de∣liberate act, the more advised the deed is, the lesse ad∣vised it is, when men raise their own passions, and are not raised by them; specially if fair quarter be first granted; an alms which he who gives to day may crave to morrow; yea, he that hath the hilt in his hand in the morning, may have the point at his throat ere night.

He doth not barbarously abuse the bodies of his dead enemies.* 1.219 We find that Hercules was the * 1.220 first (the most valiant are ever most mercifull) that ever suffered his enemies to carry away their dead bodies, after they had been put to the sword. Belike before his time they cruelly cut the corps in pieces, or cast them to the wild beasts.

In time of plenty he provides for want hereafter.* 1.221 Yet gene∣rally Souldiers (as if they counted one Treasurer in an army were enough) so hate covetousnesse that they cannot affect providence for the future, and come home with more marks in their bodies then pence in their pockets.

He is willing and joyfull to imbrace peace on good conditions.* 1.222 The procreation of peace, and not the satisfying of mens lusts and liberties, is the end of warre. Yet how many, having warre for their possession, desire a perpe∣tuity thereof! Wiser men then King Henry the eights fool use to cry in fair weather, whose harvest being onely in storms, they themselves desire to raise them; wherefore fearing peace will starve, whom warre hath fatted, and to render themselves the more usefull they prolong discord to the utmost, and could wish when swords are once drawn that all scabbards might be cut asunder.

* 1.223He is as quiet and painfull in peace, as couragious in warre. If he hath not gotten already enough whereon com∣fortably to subsist, he rebetakes himself to his former calling he had before the warre began: the weilding of his sword hath not made him unweildie to do any other work, and put his bones out of joynt to take pains. Hence comes it to passe, that some take by-courses on the high-wayes, and death, whom they honourably sought for in the field, meets them in a worse place.

But we leave our Souldier, seeking by his virtues to ascend from a private place, by the degrees of Sergeant, Lieutenant, Captain, Colonell, till he comes to be a Ge∣nerall, and then in the next book, God willing, you shall have his example.

CHAP. 20. The good Sea-Captain.

HIs Military part is concurrent with that of the Souldier already described: He differs onely in some Sea-properties, which we will now set down. Conceive him now in a Man of warre, with his letters of mart, well arm'd victuall'd and appointed, and see how he acquits himself.

* 1.224The more power he hath, the more carefull he is not to abuse it. Indeed a Sea-captain is a King in the Iland of a ship, supreme Judge, above appeal, in causes civill and cri∣minall, and is seldome brought to an account in Courts of Justice on land, for injuries done to his own men at sea.

* 1.225He is carefull in observing of the Lords day. He hath a watch in his heart though no bells in a steeple to pro∣claim that day by ringing to prayers. S^r Francis Drake * 1.226 in three years sailing about the world lost one whole day, which was scarce considerable in so long time. 'Tis to be feared some Captains at sea lose a

day every week, one in seven, neglecting the Sab∣bath.

He is as pious and thankfull when a tempest is past,* 1.227 as devout when 'tis present: not clamorous to receive mercies, and tongue-tied to return thanks. Many mariners are calm in a storm▪ and storm in a calm, blustring with oathes. In a tempest it comes to their turn to be religious, whose piety is but a fit of the wind, and when that's allayed, their devotion is ended.

Escaping many dangers makes him not presumptuous to run into them.* 1.228 Not like those Sea-men who (as if their hearts were made of those rocks they have often sayled by) are so alwayes in death they never think of it. These in their navigations observe that it is farre hotter under the Tropicks in the coming to the Line, then un∣der the Line it self, & in like manner they conceive that the fear & phancy in preparing for death is more terri∣ble then death it self, which makes them by degrees desperately to contemne it.

In taking a prize he most prizeth the mens lives whom he takes;* 1.229 though some of them may chance to be Negroes or Savages. 'Tis the custome of some to cast them over••bord, and there's an end of them: for the dumbe fishes will tell no tales. But the murder is not so soon drown'd as the men. What, is a brother by the half bloud no kinne? a Savage hath God to his father by creation, though not the Church to his mother, and God will revenge his innocent bloud. But our Captain counts the image of God neverthelesse his image cut in ebony as if done in ivory, and in the blackest Moores he sees the representation of the King of hea∣ven.

In dividing the gains he wrongs none who took pains to get them.* 1.230 Not shifting off his poore mariners with nothing, or giving them onely the garbage of the prize, and keeping all the flesh to himself. In time of peace he quietly returns home, and turns not to the trade of

Pirates, who are the worst sea-vermine, and the devils water-rats.

* 1.231His voyages are not onely for profit, but some for honour and knowledge; to make discoveries of new countreys, imi∣tating the worthy Peter Columbus. Before his time the world was cut off at the middle; Hercules Pillars (which indeed are the navell) being made the feet, and utmost bounds of the continent, till his successefull in∣dustry inlarged it.

Primus ab infusis quod terra emerserat undis Nuncius adveniens ipsa * 1.232 Columba fuit. Occiduis primus qui terram invenit in undis Nuncius adveniens ipse Columbus erat.

Our Sea-captain is likewise ambitious to perfect what the other began. He counts it a disgrace, seeing all mankind is one familie, sundry countreys but se∣verall rooms, that we who dwell in the parlour (so he counts Europe) should not know the out-lodgings of the same house, and the world be scarce acquainted with it self before it be dissolved from it self at the day of judgement.

* 1.233He daily sees, and duly considers Gods wonders in the deep. Tell me, ye Naturalists, who sounded the first march and retreat to the Tide, Hither shalt thou come, and no fur∣ther? why doth not the water recover his right over the earth, being higher in nature? whence came the salt, and who first boyled it, which made so much brine? when the winds are not onely wild in a storm, but even stark mad in an herricano, who is it that re∣stores them again to their wits, and brings them asleep in a calm? who made the mighty whales, who swim in a sea of water, and have a sea of oyl swimming in them? who first taught the water to imitate the crea∣tures on land? so that the sea is the stable of horse-fishes, the stall of kine-fishes, the stye of hog-fishes, the kennell of dog-fishes, and in all things the sea the ape of the land. Whence growes the amber-greece

in the Sea? which is not so hard to find where it is, as to know what it is. Was not God the first ship-wright? and all vessels on the water descended from the loyns (or ribs rather) of Noahs ark; or else who durst be so bold with a few crooked boards nayled to∣gether, a stick standing upright, and a rag tied to it, to adventure into the ocean? what loadstone first touched the loadstone? or how first fell it in love with the North, rather affecting that cold climate, then the pleasant East, or fruitfull South, or West? how comes that stone to know more then men, and find the way to the land in a mist? In most of these men take sanctu∣ary at Occulta qualitas, and complain that the room is dark, when their eyes are blind. Indeed they are Gods Wonders; and that Seaman the greatest Wonder of all for his blockishnesse, who seeing them dayly neither takes notice of them, admires at them, nor is thankfull for them.

[illustration]

S^r FRANCIS DRAKE one of the first of those w^ch in his Sea voyages put a Girdle about the World. He Died upon the Seas. Anno Dni 1595. W.M. sculp:

CHAP. 21. The life of Sir FRANCIS DRAKE.

FRancis Drake was born nigh* 1.234 south Tavestock in Devonshire, and brought up in Kent; God di∣viding the honour betwixt two Counties, that the one might have his birth, and the other his educa∣tion. His Father, being a Minister, fled into Kent for fear of the Six Articles, wherein the sting of Po∣pery still remained in England, though the teeth thereof were knock'd out, and the Popes Supremacy

abolished. Coming into Kent, he bound his sonne Francis apprentice to the Master of a small bark, which traded into France, and Zealand, where he underwent a hard service; and pains with patience in his youth did knit the joynts of his soul, and made them more solid and compacted. His Master dying unmarried, in reward of his industry, bequeath'd his bark unto him for a Legacie.

For some time he continued his Masters profession: But the Narrow Seas were a prison for so large a spirit, born for greater undertakings. He soon grew weary of his bark, which would scarce go alone but as it crept along by the shore: wherefore selling it, he unfortunately ventured most of his estate with Captain John Hawkins into the West Indies,* 1.235 whose goods were taken by the Spaniards at S. John de Ulva, and he himself scarce escaped with life. The King of Spain being so tender in those parts, that the least touch doth wound him; and so jealous of the West Indies, his wife, that willingly he would have none look upon her, and therefore used them with the greater severity.

Drake was perswaded by the Minister of his ship that he might lawfully recover in value of the King of Spain, and repair his losses upon him any where else. The Case was clear in sea-divinity, and few are such Infidels, as not to believe doctrines which make for their own profit. Whereupon Drake, though a poore private man, hereafter undertook to revenge himself on so mighty a Monarch; who, as not contented that the Sun riseth and setteth in his do∣minions, may seem to desire to make all his own where he shineth. And now let us see how a dwarf, standing on the Mount of Gods providence, may prove an overmatch for a giant.

After two or three severall Voyages to gain intelli∣gence in the West Indies, and some prizes taken, at

last he effectually set forward from Plimouth with two ships, the one of seventy, the other twenty five tunnes, and seventy three men and boyes in both. He made with all speed and secrecy to Nombre de Dios, as loth to put the Town to too much charge (which he knew they would willingly bestow) in providing beforehand for his entertainment; which City was then the granary of the West Indies, where∣in the golden harvest brought from Panama was hoarded up till it could be conveyed into Spain. They came hard aboard the shore, and lay quiet all night intending to attempt the Town in the dawning of the day.

But he was forced to alter his resolution, and as∣sault it sooner; for he heard his men muttering a∣mongst themselves of the strength and greatnesse of the Town: and when mens heads are once fly-blown with buzzes of suspicion, the vermine multiply in∣stantly, and one jealousie begets another. Wherefore he raised them from their nest before they had hatch'd their fears, and to put away those conceits, he per∣swaded them it was day-dawning when the Moon rose, and instantly set on the Town, and wonne it being unwalled. In the Market-place the Spaniards saluted them with a volley of shot; Drake returned their greeting with a flight of arrows, the best and an∣cient English complement, which drave their ene∣mies away. Here Drake received a dangerous wound, though he valiantly conceal'd it a long time, knowing if his heart stooped, his mens would fall, and loth to leave off the action, wherein if so bright an oppor∣tunity once setteth, it seldome riseth again. But at length his men forced him to return to his ship, that his wound might be dressed, and this unhappy acci∣dent defeated the whole designe. Thus victory some∣times slips thorow their fingers, who have caught it in their hands.

But his valour would not let him give over the pro∣ject as long as there was either life or warmth in it: And therefore having received intelligence from the Negroes, called Symerons, of many mules-lading of gold and silver, which was to be brought from Pana∣ma, he leaving competent numbers to man his ships went on land with the rest, and bestowed himself in the woods by the way as they were to passe, and so in∣tercepted and carried away an infinite masse of gold. As for the silver which was not portable over the mountains, they digged holes in the ground and hid it therein.

There want not those who love to beat down the price of every honourable action, though they them∣selves never mean to be chapmen. These cry up Drakes fortune herein to cry down his valour; as if this his performance were nothing, wherein a golden opportunity ran his head with his long forelock into Drakes hands beyond expectation. But certainly his resolution and unconquerable patience deserved much praise, to adventure on such a designe, which had in it just no more probability then what was enough to keep it from being impossible: yet I admire not so much at all the treasure he took, as at the rich and deep mine of Gods providence.

Having now full fraughted himself with wealth, and burnt at the House of Crosses above two hundred thousand pounds worth of Spanish Merchandise, he returned with honour and safety into England, and some * 1.236 years after undertook that his famous voyage about the world, most accurately described by our English Authours: and yet a word or two thereof will not be amisse.

Setting forward from Plimouth, he bore up for Ca∣boverd, where near to the Iland of S. Jago he took prisoner Nuno-da-Silva, an experienc'd Spanish pilot, whose direction he used in the coasts of Brasil and

Magellan straits, and afterwards safely landed him at Guatulco in New Spain. Hence they took their course to the iland of Brava, and hereabouts they met with those tempestuous winds, whose onely praise is, that they continue not above an houre, in which time they change * 1.237 all the points of the compasse. Here they had great plenty of rain, poured (not as in other places, as it were out of sives, but) as out of spouts, so that a but of water falls down in a place: which not∣withstanding is but a courteous injury in that hot cli∣mate farre from land, and where otherwise fresh water cannot be provided: then cutting the Line, they saw the face of that heaven which earth hideth from us, but therein onely three * 1.238 starres of the first greatnesse, the rest few and small compared to our Hemisphere, as if God, on purpose, had set up the best and biggest candles in that room wherein his civilest guests are entertained.

Sayling the South of Brasile, he afterwards passed the * 1.239 Magellan straits, and then entred Mare pacificum, came to the Southermost land at the height of 55 ½ la∣titude; thence directing his course Northward, he pillaged many Spanish Towns, and took rich pri∣zes of high value in the kingdomes of Chily, Peru, and New Spain. Then bending Eastwards, he coasted China, and the Moluccoes, where by the King of Ter∣renate, a true Gentleman Pagan, he was most honour∣ably entertain'd: The King told them, They and he were all of one religion in this respect, that they believed * 1.240 not in Gods made of stocks and stones as did the Portugalls. He furnish'd them also with all necessaries that they wanted.

On the ninth of* 1.241 January following, his ship, having a large wind and a smooth sea, ran a ground on a dan∣gerous shole, and strook twice on it, knocking twice at the doore of death, which no doubt had opened the third time. Here they * 1.242stuck from eight a clock at night

till foure the next afternoon, having ground too much, and yet too little to land on, and water too much, and yet too little to sail in. Had God (who, as the wise∣man saith, Prov. 30.4. holdeth the winds in his fist) but opened his little finger, and let out the smallest blast, they had undoubtedly been cast away; but there blew not any wind all the while. Then they concei∣ving aright that the best way to lighten the ship, was first to ease it of the burthen of their sinnes by true re∣pentance, humbled themselves by fasting under the hand of God: Afterwards they received the Commu∣nion, dining on Christ in the Sacrament, expecting no other then to sup with him in heaven: Then they cast out of their ship six great pieces of ordinance, threw over-board as much wealth as would break the heart of a Miser to think on't, with much suger, and packs of spices, making a caudle of the sea round about: Then they betook themselves to their prayers, the best lever at such a dead lift indeed, and it plea∣sed God that the wind, formerly their mortall enemy, became their friend, which changing from the Star∣board to the Larboard of the ship, and rising by de∣grees, cleared them off to the sea again, for which they returned unfeigned thanks to almighty God.

By the Cape of good hope and west of Africa he re∣turned safe into England, and landed at * 1.243 Plimouth, (being almost the first of those that made a thorow-light through the world) having in his whole voyage, though a curious searcher after the time, lost one day through the variation of severall Climates. He feasted the Queen in his ship at Dartford, who Knighted him for his service: yet it grieved him not a little, that some prime * 1.244 Courtiers refused the gold he offer'd them, as gotten by piracy. Some of them would have been loth to have been told, that they had Aurum Tholosanum in their own purses. Some think that they did it to shew that their envious pride was above their covetousnesse,

who of set purpose did blur the fair copy of his per∣formance, because they would not take pains to write after it.

I passe by his next * 1.245 West Indian voyage, wherein he took the Cities of S. Jago, S. Domingo, Carthagena, and S. Augustine in Florida: as also his service perfor∣med in 88, wherein he with many others helped to the waining of that half Moon, which sought to govern all the motion of our Sea. I hast to his last Voyage.

* 1.246Queen Elizabeth perceiving that the onely way to make the Spaniard a criple for ever, was to cut his Si∣news of warre in the West Indies, ••urnished S^r Francis Drake, and S^r John Hawkins with six of her own ships, besides 21 ships and Barks of their own provi∣ding, containing in all 2500 Men and Boyes, for some service on America. But, alas, this voyage was marr'd before begun. For so great preparations being too big for a cover, the King of Spain knew of it, and sent a Caravall of adviso to the West Indies, so that they had intelligence * 1.247 three weeks before the Fleet set forth of England, either to fortifie, or remove their treasure; whereas in other of Drakes Voyages not two of his own men knew whither he went; and managing such a designe is like carrying a Mine in warre, if it hath any vent, all is spoyled. Besides, Drake and Haw∣kins being in joynt Commission hindred each other. The later took himself to be inferiour rather in successe then skill, and the action was unlike to prosper when neither would follow, and both could not handsomly go abreast. It vexed old Hawkins that his counsell was not followed, in present sayling to America, but that they spent time in vain in assaulting the Canaries; and the grief that his advice was slighted (say some) was the cause of his death. Others impute it to the sor∣row he took, for the taking of his Bark called the Francis, which five Spanish Frigates had intercepted: But whē the same heart hath two mortall wounds given it together, 'tis hard to say which of them killeth.

Drake continued his course for Port-Rico, and ri∣ding within the roade, a shot from the Castle entred the steerage of the ship, took away the stool from un∣der him as he sate at supper, wounded S^r Nicholas Clifford and Brute Brown to death. Ah dear * 1.248 Brute (said Drake) I could grieve for thee▪ but now is no time for me to let down my spirits. And indeed a Souldiers most proper bemoaning a friends death in warre is in re∣venging it. And sure, as if grief had made the English furious, they soon after fired five Spanish ships of two hundred tunnes apiece, in despight of the Castle.

America is not unfitly resembled to an Houre-glasse, which hath a narrow neck of land (suppose it the hole where the sand passeth) betwixt the parts there∣of, Mexicana & Pervana. Now the English had a de∣signe to march by land over this Isthmus from Port-Rico to Panama, where the Spanish treasure was layd up. S^r Thomas Baskervile, Generall of the land∣forces, undertook the service with seven hundred and fifty armed men. They marched through deep wayes, the Spaniards much annoying them with shot out of the woods. One fort in the passage they assaulted in vain, and heard that two others were built to stop them, besides Panama it self. They had so much of this breakfast, they thought they should surfet of a dinner and supper of the same. No hope of conquest, except with cloying the jaws of Death, and thrusting men on the mouth of the Canon. Wherefore fearing to find the Proverb true, That Gold may be bought too dear, they returned to their ships. Drake afterwards fired Nombre de Dios, and many other petty Towns (whose treasure the Spaniards had conveyed away) burning the empty casks, when their precious liquour was runne out before, and then prepared for their returning home.

Great was the difference betwixt the Indian cities

now from what they were when Drake first haunted these coasts: At first the Spaniards here were safe and secure, counting their treasure sufficient to defend it self, the remotenesse thereof being the greatest (al∣most onely) resistance, and the fetching of it more then the fighting for it. Whilest the King of Spain guarded the head and heart of his dominions in Eu∣rope, he left his long legs in America open to blows, till finding them to smart, being beaten black and blew by the English, he learned to arm them at last, fortifying the most important of them to make them impregnable.

Now began S^r Francis his discontent to feed upon him. He conceived that expectation, a mercilesse usu∣rer, computing each day since his departure exacted an interest and return of honour and profit propor∣tionable to his great preparations, and transcending his former atchievements. He saw that all the good which he had done in this voyage, consisted in the evill he had done to the Spaniards afarre off, whereof he could present but small visible fruits in England. These apprehensions accompanying if not causing the disease of the flux wrought his sudden * 1.249 death. And sicknesse did not so much untie his clothes, as sorrow did rend at once the robe of his mortality a∣sunder. He lived by the sea, died on it, and was buried in it. Thus an ex-tempore performance (scarce heard to be begun before we hear it is ended) comes off with better applause, or miscarries with lesse disgrace, then a long studied and openly premeditated action. Besides, we see how great spirits, having mounted to the highest pitch of performance, afterwards strain and break their credits in striving to go beyond it. Lastly, God oftentimes leaves the brightest men in an eclipse, to shew that they do but borrow their lustre from his reflection. We will not justifie all the actions of any man, though of a tamer profession then a

Sea-Captain, in whom civility is often counted precisenesse. For the main, we say that this our Captain was a religious man towards God and his houses (generally sparing Churches where he came) chast in his life, just in his dealings, true of his word, and mercifull to those that were under him, hating nothing so much as idlenesse: And therefore lest his soul should rust in peace, at spare houres he brought fresh water to Plimouth. Carefull he was for posteri∣ty (though men of his profession have as well an ebbe of riot, as a flote of fortune) and providently raised a worshipfull Family of his kinred. In a word, should those that speak against him fast till they fetch their bread where he did his, they would have a good sto∣mach to eat it.

CHAP. 22. The good Herald.

HE is a Warden of the temple of Honour. Mu∣tuall necessity made mortall enemies agree in these Officers; the lungs of Mars himself would be burnt to pieces having no respiration in a truce. He∣ralds therefore were invented to proclaim peace or warre, deliver messages about summons of forts, ran∣soming of captives, burying the dead, and the like.

He is grave and faithfull in discharging the service he is imploy∣ed in.* 1.250 The names which Homer gives the Grecian Cery∣ces, excellently import their virtues in discharging their office: One was called Asphalio, such an one as made sure work; another Eurybates, cunning and subtle; a third Theotes, from his piety and godlinesse; a fourth Stentor, from his loud and audible pronoun∣cing of messages. Therefore of every Heathen sacrifice the * 1.251 tongue was cut out, and given to the Heralds, to shew that liberty of speech in all places was allowed them.

* 1.252He imbitters not a distastfull message to a forrein Prince by his indiscretion in delivering it. Commendable was the gravity of Guien King of arms in France, and Thomas Bevolt Clarenceaux of England, sent by their severall Princes to defie Charles the Emperour. For after leave demanded and obtained to deliver the message with safe conduct to their persons, they de∣livered the Emperour the lie in writing, and defying him were sent home safe with rewards. It fared worse with a foolish French Herald, sent from the Count of Orgell to challenge combat with the Count of Car∣donna, Admiral of Arragon, where instead of wearing his Coat of Arms the Herald was attired in a long linen garment, painted with some dishonest actions, imputed to the said Count of Cardonna. But Ferdi∣nand King of Arragon caused the Herald to be whipt naked through the streets * 1.253 of Barcelona, as a punish∣ment of his presumption. Thus his indescretion re∣mitted him to the nature of an ordinary person, his Armour of proof of publick credence fell off, and he left naked to the stroke of justice, no longer a pub∣lick Officer, but a private offender. Passe we now from his use in warre to his imployment in peace.

* 1.254He is skilfull in the pedigrees and descents of all ancient Gentry. Otherwise, to be able onely to blazon a Coat doth no more make an Herald, then the reading the titles of Gally-pots makes a Physician. Bring our Herald to a Monument, ubi jacet epitaphium, and where the Arms on the Tombe are not onely crest-fallen, but their colours scarce to be discerned, and he will tell whose they be, if any certainty therein can be re∣scued from the teeth of Time. But how shamefull was the ignorance of the French * 1.255 Heralds some fourty years since, who at a solemn entertainment of Queen Mary of Florence, wife to King Henrie the fourth, did falsly devise and blazon both the Arms of Florence, and the Arms of the Daulphin of France, now King thereof.

He carefully preserveth the memories of extinguish'd Families,* 1.256 of such Zelophehads, who dying left onely daugh∣ters. He is more faithfull to many ancient Gentlemen then their own Heirs were, who sold their lands, and with them (as much as in them lay) their memories, which our Herald carefully treasureth up.

He restoreth many to their own rightfull Arms.* 1.257 An Heir is a Phenix in a familie, there can be but one of them at the same time. Hence comes it often to passe, that younger brothers of gentile families live in low wayes, clouded often amongst the Yeomanry; and yet those under-boughs grow from the same root with the top-branches. It may happen afterwards that by in∣dustry they may advance themselves to their former lustre; and good reason they should recover their an∣cient ensignes of honour belonging unto them: For the river Anas in Spain, though running many miles under ground, when it comes up again is still the same river which it was before. And yet

He curbs their Vsurpation who unjustly entitle themselves to ancient Houses.* 1.258 Hierophilus a * 1.259 Ferrier in Rome pretend∣ed himself to be nephew to C. Marius, who had seven times been Consul, and carried it in so high a strain that many believed him, and some companies in Rome accepted him for their Patron. Such want not amongst us, who in spight of the stock will engraff themselves into noble bloods, and thence derive their pedegree. Hence they new mould their names, taking from them, adding to them, melting out all the liquid letters, torturing mutes to make them speak, and ma∣king vowels dumbe to bring it to a fallacious Homo∣nomy at the last, that their names may be the same with those noble Houses they pretend to. By this trick (to forbear dangerous instances, if affinity of sound makes kinred) Lutulentus makes himself kinne to Luculentus, dirt to light, and Angustus to Augustus, some narrow-hearted Peasant, to some large-spirited

Prince, except our good Herald marre their mart, and discover their forgery. For well he knows where in∣deed the names are the same (though alter'd through variety of writing in severall ages, and disguis'd by the lisping of vulgar people, who miscall hard French Sir∣names) and where the equivocation is untruly affected.

* 1.260He assignes honourable Arms to such as raise themselves by de∣serts. In all ages their must be as well a beginning of new Gentry, as an ending of ancient. And let not Linea, when farre extended in length, grow so proud as to scorn the first Punctum which gave it the originall. Our Herald knows also to cure the surfet of Coats, and un∣surcharge them, and how to wash out stained colours, when the merits of Posterity have outworn the dis∣graces of their Ancestours.

* 1.261He will not for any profit favour wealthy unworthinesse. If a rich Clown (who deserves that all his shield should be the Base point) shall repair to the Herald-office, as to a drapers shop, wherein any Coat may be bought for money, he quickly finds himself deceived. No doubt if our Herald gives him a Coat, he gives him al∣so a badge with it.

[illustration]

WILLIAM CAMBDEN Clarenciaux king of Armes. He dyed at Westminster Anno Dni 1623 Aged 74 yeares. W Marshall sculp:

CHAP. 23. The life of M^r W. CAMBDEN.

WIlliam Cambden was born Anno 1550 in old Baily, in the City of London. His Father, Sampson Cambden, was descended of honest paren∣tage in Staffordshire; but by his Mothers side he was extracted from the worshipfull family of the * 1.262 Cur∣wens in Cumberland.

He was brought up first in Christ-Church, then in Pauls School in London, and at fifteen years of age

went to Magdalen Colledge in Oxford, and thence to * 1.263 Broadgates Hall, where he first made those short La∣tine Graces, which the Servitours still use. From hence he was removed, and made student of Christ Church, where he profited to such eminency, that he was pre∣ferred to be Master of Westminster School, a most fa∣mous seminarie of learning.

For whereas before, of the two grand Schools of England, one sent all her Foundation-scholars to Cam∣bridge, the other all to Oxford, the good Queen (as the Head equally favouring both Breasts of Learning and Religion) divided her Scholars here betwixt both Universities, which were enriched with many hope∣full plants sent from hence, through Cambdens learn∣ing, diligence, and clemency. Sure none need pity the beating of that Scholar, who would not learn with∣out it under so meek a Master.

His deserts call'd him hence to higher employ∣ments. The Queen first made him Richmond Herald, and then Clarenceaux King of Arms. We reade how Dionysius first King of Sicily turn'd afterwards a Schoolmaster in his old age. Behold here Dionysius inverted, one that was a Schoolmaster in his youth be∣come a King (of Arms) in his riper years, which place none ever did or shall discharge with more integrity. He was a most exact Antiquary, witnesse his worthy work, which is a comment on three kingdomes; and never was so large a text more briefly, so dark a text more plainly expounded. Yea what a fair garment hath been made out of the very shreds and Remains of that greater Work?

It is most worthy observation with what diligence he inquired after ancient places, making Hue and Crie after many a City which was run away, and by cer∣tain marks and tokens pursuing to find it; as by the situation on the * 1.264Romane high-wayes, by just distance from other ancient cities, by some affinity of name,

by tradition of the inhabitants, by Romane coyns dig∣ged up, and by some appearance of ruines. A broken urn is a whole evidence, or an old gate still surviving, out of which the city is run out. Besides, commonly some new spruce town, not farre off, is grown out of the ashes thereof, which yet hath so much naturall af∣fection, as dutifully to own those reverend ruines for her Mother.

By these and other means he arrived at admirable knowledge, and restored Britain to her self. And let none tax him for presumption in conjectures where the matter was doubtfull; for many probable con∣jectures have stricken the fire, out of which Truths candle hath been lighted afterwards. Besides, con∣jectures, like parcells of unknown ore, are sold but at low rates: If they prove some rich metall, the buyer is a great gainer; i•• base, no looser, for he payes for it ac∣cordingly.

His candour and sweet temper was highly to be commended, gratefully acknowledging those by whom he was assisted in the work (in such a case confession puts the difference betwixt stealing and bor∣rowing) and surely so heavy a log needed more levers then one. He honourably mentioneth such as differ from him in opinion; not like those Antiquaries, who are so snarling one had as good dissent a mile as an hairs breadth from them.

Most of the English ancient Nobility and Gentry he hath unpartially observed. Some indeed object that he * 1.265 claws and flatters the Grandees of his own age, extolling some families rather great then ancient, ma∣king them to flow from a farre fountain because they had a great channell, especially if his private friends. But this cavil hath more of malice then truth: indeed 'tis pitty he should have a tongue, that hath not a word for a friend on just occasion; and justly might the stream of his commendations run broader, where meeting

with a confluence of desert and friendship in the same party. For the main, his pen is sincere and unpartiall, and they who complain that Grantham steeple stands awry will not set a straiter by it.

Some say that in silencing many gentile families, he makes baulks of as good ground as any he ploweth up. But these again acquit him, when they consider that it is not onely difficult but impossible to anato∣mize the English Gentry so exactly, as to shew where every smallest vein thereof runs. Besides, many Houses, conceived to be by him omitted, are rather rightly placed by him, not where they live, but whence they came. Lastly, we may perceive that he prepared ano∣ther work on purpose for the English Gentry.

I say nothing of his learned Annalls of Queen Eliza∣beth, industriously performed. His very enemies (if any) cannot but commend him. Sure he was as farre from loving * 1.266 Popery, as from hating Learning, though that aspersion be generall on Antiquaries; as if they could not honour hoary hairs, but presently them∣selves must doat.

His liberality to Learning is sufficiently witnessed in his Founding of an History-Professour in Oxford, to which he gave the mannour of Bexley in Kent, worth in present a hundred and fourty pounds, but (some years expired) foure hundred pounds per Annum, so that he merited that distich,

Est tibi pro Tumulo, Cambdene, Britannia tota, Oxonium vivens est Epigramma tibi.

The Military part of his office he had no need to imploy, passing it most under a peaceable Prince. But now having lived many years in honour and esteem, death at last, even contrarie to Ius Gentium, kill'd this worthy Herald, so that it seems, Mortality, the Law of Nature, is above the Law of Arms. He died Anno 1623. the ninth of November, in the seventie fourth yeare of his age.

CHAP. 24. The true Gentleman.

WE will consider him in his Birth, Breeding, and Behaviour.

He is extracted from ancient and worshipfull parentage.* 1.267 When a Pepin is planted on a Pepin-stock, the fruit growing thence is called a * 1.268 Renate, a most delicious apple, as both by Sire and Damme well descended. Thus his bloud must needs be well purified who is gentilely born on both sides.* 1.269

If his birth be not, at leastwise his qualities are generous. What if he cannot with the Hevenninghams of Suf∣folk count▪ * 1.270five and twenty Knights of his familie, or tell * 1.271 sixteen Knights successively with the Tilneys of Norfolk, or with the Nauntons shew where their An∣cestours had * 1.272 seven hundred pound a yeare before or at the conquest; yet he hath endeavoured by his own deserts to ennoble himself. Thus Valour makes him sonne to Caesar, Learning entitles him kinsman to Tully, & Piety reports him nephew to godly Constan∣tine. It graceth a Gentleman of low descent & high de∣sert, when he will own the meannesse of his parentage. How ridiculous is it when many men brag, that their families are more ancient then the Moon, which all know are later then the starre which some seventy years since shined in Cassiopea. But if he be gene∣rously born,* 1.273 see how his parents breed him.

He is not in his youth possest with the great hopes of his pos∣session. No flatterer reads constantly in his ears a survey of the lands he is to inherit. This hath made many boyes thoughts swell so great they could never be kept in compasse afterwards. Onely his Parents acquaint him that he is the next undoubted Heir to correcti∣on, if misbehaving himself; and he finds no more favour from his Schoolmaster then his School∣master

finds diligence in him, whose rod respects persons no more then bullets are partiall in a bat∣tel.

* 1.274At the Vniversity he is so studious as if he intended Learning for his profession. He knowes well that cunning is no burthen to carry, as paying neither portage by land▪ nor poundage by sea. Yea though to have land be a good First, yet to have learning is the surest Second, which may stand to it when the other may chance to be taken away.

* 1.275At the Innes of Court he applyes himself to learn the Laws of the kingdome. Object not, Why should a Gentleman learn law, who if he needeth it may have it for his money, and if he hath never so much of his own, he must but give it away. For what a shame is it for a man of quality to be ignorant of Solon in our Athens, of Lycurgus in our Sparta? Besides, law will help him to keep his own, and besteed his neighbours. Say not, that there be enough which make this their set pra∣ctice: for so there are also many masters of defence by their profession; and shall private men therefore learn no skill at their weapons.

As for the Hospitality, the Apparell, the Travelling, the Companie, the Recreations, the Marriage of Gen∣tlemen, they are described in severall Chapters in the following Book. A word or two of his behaviour in the countrey.

* 1.276He is courteous and affable to his neighbours. As the sword of the best tempered mettall is most flexible; so the truly generous are most pliant and courteous in their behaviour to their inferiours.

* 1.277He delights to see himself, and his servants well mounted: therefore he loveth good Horsemanship. Let never a∣ny forrein Rabshakeh send that brave to our Jerusa∣lem, offering to lend her * 1.278 two thousand horses, if she be able for her part to set riders upon them. We know how Darius got the Persian Empire from the rest of his fellow

Peeres, by the first neighing of his generous steed. It were no harm if in some needlesse suits of intricate precedencie betwixt equall Gentlemen, the priority were adjudged to him who keeps a stable of most ser∣viceable horses.

He furnisheth and prepareth himself in peace against time of warre.* 1.279 Lest it be too late to learn when his skill is to be used. He approves himself couragious when brought to the triall, as well remembring the custome which is used at the Creation of Knights of the Bath, wherein the Kings Master-Cook * 1.280 cometh forth, & presenteth his great knife to the new-made Knights, admonishing them to be faithfull and valiant, other∣wise he threatens them that that very knife is prepared to cut off their spurres.

If the Commission of the Peace finds him out,* 1.281 he faithfully dis∣charges it. I say, Finds him out; for a publick Office is a guest which receives the best usage from them who never invited it. And though he declined the Place, the countrey knew to prize his worth, who would be ignorant of his own. He compounds many petty differences betwixt his neighbours, which are easier ended in his own Porch then in Westminster-hall: for many people think, if once they have fetched a war∣rant from a Justice, they have given earnest to follow the suit, though otherwise the matter be so mean that the next nights sleep would have bound both parties to the peace, and made them as good friends as ever be∣fore. Yet

He connives not at the smothering of punishable faults.* 1.282 He hates that practice, as common as dangerous amongst countrey people, who having received again the goods which were stollen from them, partly out of foolish pity, and partly out of covetousnesse to save charges in prosecuting the law, let the thief escape unpunish∣ed. Thus whilest private losses are repaired, the wounds to the Commonwealth (in the breach of the

Laws) are left uncured: And thus petty Larceners are encouraged into Felons, and afterwards are hang'd for pounds, because never whipt for pence, who, if they had felt the cord, had never been brought to the hal∣ter.

* 1.283If chosen a Member of Parliament he is willing to do his Coun∣trey service. If he be no Rhetorician to raise affections, (yea Barnabas was a * 1.284 greater speaker then S. Paul himself) he counts it great wisdome to be the good manager of Yea and Nay. The slow pace of his judge∣ment is recompenced by the swift following of his af∣fections, when his judgement is once soundly in∣form'd. And here we leave him in consultation, wishing him with the rest of his honourable Society all happy successe.

Notes

• * 1.1

  We take it promis••uously for Civil or Common Lawyer.
• * 1.2

  Maxime 1
• * 1.3

  2
• * 1.4

  3
• * 1.5

  Cambdens Br••t. in Glocest.
• * 1.6

  4
• * 1.7

  Plutarch. in vita De∣mosth.
• * 1.8

  5
• * 1.9

  6
• * 1.10

  7
• * 1.11

  8
• * 1.12

  Carew Sur. of Cornwall, fol. 60.
• * 1.13

  Coke in h••s Preface to Littletons Te∣nures.
• * 1.14

  Maxime 1
• * 1.15

  2
• * 1.16

  3
• * 1.17

  4
• * 1.18

  5
• * 1.19

  Stephens A∣pology fol He∣rodotus, lib. 1. cap. 16.
• * 1.20

  6
• * 1.21

  7
• * 1.22

  8
• * 1.23

  Stowes Sur∣vey of London. pag. 55.
• * 1.24

  In praefatione Chiru••giae magnae.
• * 1.25

  Sennertus de ••hymicorum consensu, cap. 4. pag. 35.
• * 1.26

  Bickerus in Hermete redi∣vivo.
• * 1.27

  Bezoldus consideratione vitae & mort. p. 76. ex An∣draea Iocisio.
• * 1.28

  Beroldus ut priùs, pag. 77.
• * 1.29

  Oporinus in Epist. de Pa∣racel••o.
• * 1.30

  Maxime 1
• * 1.31

  2
• * 1.32

  Gen. 45.4.
• * 1.33

  3
• * 1.34

  4
• * 1.35

  5
• * 1.36

  6
• * 1.37

  7
• * 1.38

  Melchior A∣dam. in vitis Germ. Theolog. p. 339.
• * 1.39

  8
• * 1.40

  9
• * 1.41

  10
• * 1.42

  Mercator Atlas in the descrip. of Au∣stria.
• * 1.43

  Scalig. de Arte poet. lib. 6. c. 6.
• * 1.44

  11
• * 1.45

  Cambdens Elisab. anno. 1576.
• * 1.46

  Epist. 168. quae est ad Eu∣nomiun.
• * 1.47

  12
• * 1.48

  Giraldus Camb. in descr. of Wales.
• * 1.49

  13
• * 1.50

  Pitz••us. De ill••••i Angl. scrip. Atat. 16. pag. 796.
• * 1.51

  Davenant in Praefat. De Iu∣d••••c & N••rma ••idei.
• * 1.52

  In epist. ad Spalalmum.
• * 1.53

  Thuanus, obit. doct. vir. anno 1558.
• * 1.54

  Maxime 1.
• * 1.55

  2
• * 1.56

  3
• * 1.57

  4
• * 1.58

  5
• * 1.59

  6
• * 1.60

  7
• * 1.61

  8
• * 1.62

  Sr. Fran. Ba••on Ad∣vance. of learn. p. 46.
• * 1.63

  Maxime 1
• * 1.64

  2
• * 1.65

  3
• * 1.66

  4
• * 1.67

  5
• * 1.68

  6
• * 1.69

  7
• * 1.70

  8
• * 1.71

  Fits Herbert de nat. brev. de Idiota inqui∣ren.
• * 1.72

  Stephanus Boetius Regius Senator Burdi∣golae ad Vidum Brassacum Prae∣sidem.
• * 1.73

  In vita Iul. Scalig. p. 54.
• * 1.74

  Thuan. obit. Illustr. Anno. 1558.
• * 1.75

  Camb. Brit. in Northamp∣tonshire.
• * 1.76

  Maxime 1
• * 1.77

  2
• * 1.78

  3
• * 1.79

  Fox, Acts and Mon. in his life.
• * 1.80

  Athanasius in ejus vita.
• * 1.81

  4
• * 1.82

  Plutarch in Scipio's. life, pag. 1807.
• * 1.83

  5
• * 1.84

  6
• * 1.85

  Plutarch in the life of De∣mosth.
• * 1.86

  7
• * 1.87

  8
• * 1.88

  9
• * 1.89

  10
• * 1.90

  11
• * 1.91

  12
• * 1.92

  The words being somwhat ambiguous are thus, In audi∣endis confessi∣onibus, & ser∣monibus ad populum ter in hebdomada quàtérve ha∣bendis per tri∣ginta & am∣pliùs annos diligentissimâ assiduitate la∣boravit, Spon∣divus in vita Baronii, pag. 2. part. 7.
• * 1.93

  13
• * 1.94

  Mercator Atlas in the descrip. of Austria.
• * 1.95

  14
• * 1.96

  15
• * 1.97

  16
• * 1.98

  17
• * 1.99

  18
• * 1.100

  19
• * 1.101

  Pantaleon de Illustr. Germ. in vita Me∣lanch.
• * 1.102

  20
• * 1.103

  S. W. M••. of S. C. C.
• * 1.104

  S. W. ut priús.
• * 1.105

  Hugh Hol∣land in his Icones.
• * 1.106

  Maxime 1
• * 1.107

  2
• * 1.108

  De sinibus boni & mali, lib. 2.
• * 1.109

  3
• * 1.110

  4
• * 1.111

  5
• * 1.112

  6
• * 1.113

  Fluctus De∣cimus pro ma∣ximo. Ovidio & Lucano.
• * 1.114

  7
• * 1.115

  8
• * 1.116

  9
• * 1.117

  Thuan obit. vir. doct. Anno. 1562.
• * 1.118

  Acts 14.2••. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• * 1.119

  Lib. 1. epist. 4
• * 1.120

  Defence of the Answer to the Admoniti∣on. pag. 164.
• * 1.121

  Concil. Tole∣tan. Anno 589. Can. 9. Synod. An∣tiochen. Can. 24. and 2. Concil. Gan∣grense Can. 7. and 8.
• * 1.122

  Maxime 1
• * 1.123

  2
• * 1.124

  3
• * 1.125

  4
• * 1.126

  Concil. Pa••ent. Anno 1312. Constit. 14.
• * 1.127

  Vid. Videl. Comment. in Epist. Ignatii ad Tralienses.
• * 1.128

  5
• * 1.129

  In the life of Queen Elizab. Anno Dom. 1596.
• * 1.130

  6
• * 1.131

  Maxime 1
• * 1.132

  2
• * 1.133

  3
• * 1.134

  Holinshed p. 1224.
• * 1.135

  4
• * 1.136

  M^r Benthams Christian Constici, pag. 322.
• * 1.137

  5
• * 1.138

  Munster de German. lib. 3. pag. 457.
• * 1.139

  Maxime 1
• * 1.140

  2
• * 1.141

  3
• * 1.142

  4
• * 1.143

  Math. Paris. in 23. Abbat. S. Alban. pag. 42.
• * 1.144

  5
• * 1.145

  6
• * 1.146

  7
• * 1.147

  8
• * 1.148

  9
• * 1.149

  Ascham. Schoolmaster, 2. Book, fol. 47.
• * 1.150

  Lively in his Chron. of Persi∣an Monarch. p. 196.
• * 1.151

  Ascham. in loco priùs cita∣to.
• * 1.152

  Pi••zaeus de Scriptor. An∣gli. pag. 773.
• * 1.153

  Baleus de Scriptor. An∣glicanis.
• * 1.154

  Yrà la s••ga con el calderon.
• * 1.155

  1446. Ma∣nuscrip Hutch∣••••. Coll. R••gal.
• * 1.156

  Ascham. in loco citato.
• * 1.157

  Omnes qui Metcalfi exclu∣dendi autores exstiterunt, multis adversae fortunae pro∣cellis (sive di∣vinâ ultione seu fato suo) jactati, de gra∣du dejecti & deturbati, i••∣glorii mortem obierunt ex∣emplo memo∣rabili, Caius lib. 1. Hist. Cantab••. pag. 75, & 76.
• * 1.158

  Maxime 1
• * 1.159

  2
• * 1.160

  3
• * 1.161

  4
• * 1.162

  5
• * 1.163

  In his life, of his own wri∣ting.
• * 1.164

  Nich. Vdal Schoolmaster of Eaton in the Reigne of King Henry the eight.
• * 1.165

  6
• * 1.166

  7
• * 1.167

  8
• * 1.168

  Grant. in vit. Ascham. pag. 629.
• * 1.169

  ••shton in the life of Whi¦taker, pag. 29
• * 1.170

  Plutar. in vit. Thes••i.
• * 1.171

  Maxime 1.
• * 1.172

  Prov. 16.11.
• * 1.173

  2
• * 1.174

  3
• * 1.175

  4
• * 1.176

  5
• * 1.177

  Lib. 13. de Trinitat. c. 3.
• * 1.178

  6
• * 1.179

  7
• * 1.180

  Herodotus lib. 1. pag. 12
• * 1.181

  Maxime 1
• * 1.182

  2
• * 1.183

  3
• * 1.184

  4
• * 1.185

  5
• * 1.186

  6
• * 1.187

  Plutarch. de virtut. mulie∣rum, exemplo ultimo.
• * 1.188

  7
• * 1.189

  8
• * 1.190

  Bacons Hen∣ry. 7. pag. 74.
• * 1.191

  Maxime 1.
• * 1.192

  1. Cor. 12.
• * 1.193

  2
• * 1.194

  3
• * 1.195

  4
• * 1.196

  5
• * 1.197

  6
• * 1.198

  7
• * 1.199

  8
• * 1.200

  Hollingshead. pag. 1290.
• * 1.201

  Sixteen lit∣tle chil∣dren were there presented to her Majestie, eight spinning worsted, and eight knitting yarne hose.
• * 1.202

  Maxime 1
• * 1.203

  2
• * 1.204

  Fox Acts and Monum pag. 646.
• * 1.205

  3
• * 1.206

  In publicos hostes omnis homo miles, Tertull. Apol. cap. 2.
• * 1.207

  Amesius. Cas. Conscien. lib. 5. cap. 33.
• * 1.208

  4
• * 1.209

  5
• * 1.210

  Mat. 28.15.
• * 1.211

  6
• * 1.212

  Hollman in his book of the Embassadour.
• * 1.213

  7
• * 1.214

  8
• * 1.215

  9
• * 1.216

  10
• * 1.217

  Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 8. cap. 16.
• * 1.218

  11
• * 1.219

  12
• * 1.220

  Plutarch. in vita Thes••••, Pagin. 1••.
• * 1.221

  13
• * 1.222

  14
• * 1.223

  15
• * 1.224

  Maxime 1
• * 1.225

  2
• * 1.226

  Manuscr. of Mr. Fortescu, who went with him.
• * 1.227

  3
• * 1.228

  4
• * 1.229

  5
• * 1.230

  6
• * 1.231

  7
• * 1.232

  Gen. 8.11.
• * 1.233

  8
• * 1.234

  S^r. Francis Drake his ne∣phew in the de∣script. of his third voyage, Epistle to the Reader.
• * 1.235

  1567.
• * 1.236

  1577. De∣cemb. 13.
• * 1.237

  Manusc. of Geor. For••escue who went the voyage with S^r Fran. Drake.
• * 1.238

  Cambd. Eliza. Anno 1580. p. 323.
• * 1.239

  August. 20. 1578.
• * 1.240

  Manuscri. Geor. Fortescue
• * 1.241

  1579.
• * 1.242

  Hacluits voy∣age, p. 741.3. vol.
• * 1.243

  Novemb. 3. 1580.
• * 1.244

  Camb. Eliza. Anno ut priùs, pag. 127.
• * 1.245

  1585.
• * 1.246

  1595.
• * 1.247

  Hacluits voyage, 3. vol. pag. 583.
• * 1.248

  From the mouth of Henr. Drake Esquire there present, my dear and worthy parishi∣oner lately de∣ceased.
• * 1.249

  Ianuary 28. 1595.
• * 1.250

  Maxime 1
• * 1.251

  S^r. Hen. Spel∣man Glossar. de verbo Herald.
• * 1.252

  2
• * 1.253

  Span. Hist. in the life of Fer∣dinand.
• * 1.254

  3
• * 1.255

  Andr. Favin (a Parisian Advocate) in his Theatre of Honour, 1. book 4. chap. pag. 35
• * 1.256

  4
• * 1.257

  5
• * 1.258

  6
• * 1.259

  Valer. Max. lib. 9. cap. 16.
• * 1.260

  7
• * 1.261

  8
• * 1.262

  A quibus no∣bis (absit in∣vidia) genus maternum, Cambd. Brit. in Cumber.
• * 1.263

  Ex Parenta∣tione Degorii Wheat.
• * 1.264

  Watlin Ermin street
• * 1.265

  Hugh Hol∣land in the life of the Earl of Leicester.
• * 1.266

  These words he wrote in the beginning of his Testament, Christi soli∣us meritis & satisfactione spem omnem salutis meae semper ni••i profiteor.
• * 1.267

  Maxime 1
• * 1.268

  Draitons Po∣lio••bion, p. 298.
• * 1.269

  2
• * 1.270

  ••eavers su••∣mon. pag. 854.
• * 1.271

  Idem. p. 818.
• * 1.272

  Idem p 758.
• * 1.273

  3
• * 1.274

  4
• * 1.275

  5
• * 1.276

  6
• * 1.277

  7
• * 1.278

  2. Kings. 18.23.
• * 1.279

  8
• * 1.280

  M. Selden in his titles of Honour, pag. 820.
• * 1.281

  9
• * 1.282

  10
• * 1.283

  11
• * 1.284

  Acts 14.12.