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VIces enter into the composition of Virtues, as Poi∣sons do into that of Physical Re∣medies; the intermixture there∣of is made by Prudence, which by that allay makes an advan∣tageous use of them, against the Evils and inconveniences of humane life.
The Virtue observable in the ordinary sort of men is on∣ly a Phantasm, fram'd by our Passions, on which we bestow a plausible name, that we may pursue our own inclinations, without any fear of punish∣ment.
All the Virtues men so much pretend to, are swallow'd up in Interest, as Rivers lose their names when they fall into the Sea.
Crimes put on a certain shew of innocence, nay sometimes
become glorious, either upon the account of their number, or their quality: Thence it proceeds, that publick Robbe∣ries are look'd on, as the ef∣fects of conduct, design, and subtilty, and the taking of Pro∣vinces without any just pre∣tence, is called Conquest. Thus is there an Heroick manage∣ment of Criminal actions, as well as of Virtuous.
We are many times kept within the limits of our duty by Shame, Sloth, and Timo∣rousness, while in the mean time our Virtue hath all the credit of it.
If we excise from that which is called Courage the desire of preserving and the fear of lo∣sing, it would not have any great matter left it.
Clemency is an intermixture of Repute, Sloth, and Fear, of which we make up a Vir∣tue; and among Princes, it is only a political Intrigue, where∣of they make their advantage to cajol the affection of the people.
The Constancy of the wiser sort, is but a certain Artifice,
wherewith they know how to repress the agitation of their Souls.
Gravity of deportment is a mysterious carriage of the Bo∣dy, found out to eclipse the imperfections of the Mind.
Severity and Reserv'dness in Women is a daubing embel∣lishment, whereby they endea∣vour to heighten their Beauty; in a word, it is a certain deli∣cate and subtle Attraction, and a disguis'd Insinuation.
Those Reconciliations be∣tween enemies, which seem to be carry'd on with Sincerity, Complyance and Tenderness, are truly the effects of a De∣sire of bettering ones conditi∣on, weariness of War, and a fear of some unfortunate ad∣venture.
We are to make the same estimate of Gratitude, as of just dealing among Merchants; This maintains Commerce, and we satisfy our Obligations, not so much upon the score of Ju∣stice, as out of a conceit, that
we shall thereby more easily prevail with others to give us credit.
Men are not only apt to be guilty of an equal oblivion of benefits and injuries, but they also hate those who have obliged them. Pride and In∣terest are upon all accounts the Parents of Ingratitude. The acknowledgments of Kind∣nesses, and the requitals of Ill∣turns seem to them a kind of slavery, whereto they think it a hard matter to submit.
There is no Virtue so highly celebrated as Prudence, and
men have that fondness for it, as that it deserves the greatest Elogies. It is the square of our Actions, and the level of our Conduct. Though For∣tune-seems to be an Universal Mistress, yet Prudence is hers. She causes the dilatations and decays of Empires; her ab∣sence occasions all inconveni∣ences and disasters; her con∣currence, all felicity. And as an ancient Poet expresses him∣self, when we are guided by Prudence, we are surrounded by all the other Divinities, as if he said, that, in Prudence, we meet with all the assistan∣ces we desire of the Gods. And yet the most accomplish'd Prudence we can imagine, can∣not give us any assurance of the
most inconsiderable effect of the World, inasmuch as being exercis'd on a subject so in∣constant and so common, as man is, she cannot with any certainty execute any of her designs. God only, who hath the guidance of all mens hearts, and the absolute disposal of their inclinations, brings the things dependent thereon to their due effect. Whence we are to make this conclusion, that all the commendations we give our Prudence, whether out of ignorance or vanity, are so many injuries done by us to his Providence.
The Qualities a man really hath, make him not so ridicu∣lous
as those which out of pure affectation he pretends to have.
Our Promises are always made with a reflection on our Hopes, and perform'd accord∣ing to our fears.
A man is extreamly exaspe∣rated to be circumvented by his Enemies, and betrayed by his Friends; and yet he is sa∣tisfied to be deceiv'd by him∣self.
It is as easie for a man to be self-deceiv'd, without being
sensible of it, as it is hard to deceive others, without their perceiving it.
It is one of the most pleasant humours in the world to see two men met together, one to receive advice, the other to give it. The one demeans himself with a respectful and compliant indifference, and says, that he comes to receive directions, and to submit his sentiments to the other's; and yet for the most part he comes to have his own confirm'd, and to get the other's warranty of his advice upon the affair he proposes to him. On the con∣trary, he who is consulted
seems to requite the sincerity of his Friend with an earnest and dis-interessed zeal to serve him, and in the mean time exa∣mines his own Concerns, for rules whereby to advise him; so that his Counsel becomes more advantageous to himself, than to him who receives it.
'Tis an ill expression, to say, Such or such a thing proceeds from Weakness of Mind; for it is, in effect, a Weakness of the Temperament, which is only an inability of acting, and a default in the principle of life.
Nothing is impossible; there are certain ways conducing to the accomplishment of all things, and if we had Will enough, we should never be destitute of the means.
Compassion is a resentment of our own Evils, and a refle∣ction on them in a subject at some distance from us. It is a crafty foresight of those mis∣fortunes into which we may fall our selves, which inclines us to the relief of others; out of an imagination, that they are engag'd to retaliation upon
the like occasions. So that the services we render those who are fallen into any misfortune, are, properly speaking, but kindnesses done to our selves by way of anticipation.
He is not to be accounted a rational person, who thinks he hath reason for what he does, but he who hath a de∣lightful and discerning assu∣rance, of his acting according to the dictates thereof.
As for the acknowledgment of our failings and imperfecti∣ons, it proceeds from a desire
of repairing the prejudice which they do us in the appre∣hensions of others, by the im∣pression we give them of the justice of our own.
Humility is a counterfeit submission, whereby we en∣deavour to bring all others in∣to a complyance with our hu∣mours. It is a slight sally of Pride, whereby it humbles it self before men, out of a de∣sign to advance it self above them. This is its greatest dis∣guise and its first Stratagem: and as it is out of all question, that there never was any such thing, as the Proteus mentioned in the ancient Fables, so is it
certain, that Pride is such a real one in Nature. For it assumes what forms it pleases; but though it be a strange and pleasant spectacle, to see it in all its figures, and in all its in∣sinuations, yet is it to be ac∣knowledged, that it is never so rare, nor so extraordinary, as when we see it with its eyes fixt on the ground, a counte∣nance full of modesty and com∣posure; words overflowing with mildness and respect, and a certain contempt of it self: as if it would say, I am unwor∣thy the Honours that are done me, incapable of the Employ∣ments forc'd upon me; and that it receiv'd the Charges whereto it is advanc'd only as an effect of mens excessive
goodness towards it, and a blind supererogation of For∣tune's liberality.
Moderation in Prosperity is either a dreadful apprehension of losing what a man is possess'd of, or a fear of that shame which attends extravagance and excess. It may also be said, that a moderate person is one whose humours are in a certain indisturbance, as being becalm'd by the satisfaction of his mind.
We may further give this Character of Moderation,
that it is a fear of disparagement and contempt, which attends those who are besotted with their own felicity. It is a vain Ostentation of a resolute mind. In fine, to give it yet a more pertinent definition, we may affirm, that the moderation of men in their highest advance∣ments is an Ambition of seem∣ing greater, than those things whereby they are advanc'd.
How can a man forbear laughing at this Virtue, and the opinion generally con∣ceived of it? How fondly is it imagined, that Ambition is oppos'd, and in a manner re∣duced to a certain mediocrity
by Moderation, when they never meet together, the lat∣ter being truly but a certain Sloth, demission of Spirit, and a defect of Courage? So that it may justly be said, that Mo∣deration is a certain depression of the Soul, as Ambition is the elevation of it.
Chastity in Women is a cer∣tain fondness of their Repu∣tation, and a love of their quiet.
Since the Neapolitane Evil came to reign in the World, the fear of infection hath con∣tributed more to the honesty
of both Sexes, then any consi∣deration of Virtue: and yet there will ever be such, as shall prosecute their enjoy∣ments, with a defiance of di∣seases.
There is no such thing as Li∣berality, and it may be said to be a Vanity of giving, whereof we are more fond, then of that which we give.
Temperance and Sobriety are the effects of our Love of Health, or argue disability of eating or drinking much.
Fidelity is a rare invention of Self-Love, whereby a man advancing himself to be a De∣pository of precious things, en∣hances himself to a more ex∣traordinary value. Of all the several commerces of Self-Love, this is that wherein it makes least advancement, and greatest advantages. It is the subtlest part of its Politicks; for it engages men by their Li∣berties and their Lives (which they are forc'd to expose upon certain occasions) to raise the faithful person to a pitch of esteem above all the World.
The ordinary Education of Princes, is a second Self-Love inspir'd into them.
Our Repentance proceeds not from the remorse con∣ceiv'd at our Actions, but from the prejudice we are apt to re∣ceive thereby.
It is a hard matter to distin∣guish between Goodness con∣sider'd in its full extent gene∣rally exercis'd towards all per∣sons,
and an accomplish'd sub∣tlety.
Whoever shall superficially consider all the effects of Good∣ness, which causes us to neglect our own concerns, and obliges us to make a perpetual sacrifice of our selves for the benefit of others, will be tempted to ima∣gine, that, while it acts, Self-Love admits a certain oblivion and abnegation of it self. Nay he will be apt to think, that it suffers it self to be devested and impoverish'd, without so much as perceiving any such thing; insomuch that Self-Love seems to be a certain decoy to Good∣ness. And yet, it is to be pre∣sum'd
that Goodness is the most proper of all the means, which Self-Love makes use of, to compass its ends. It is a close and secret path, whereby it re∣turns to it self with a richer booty. It is a certain discare of its own concerns, which it puts out at an excessive usury. In fine it is a well-lodg'd Spring, wherewith it reunites, disposes, and winds up all men to promote its own advantages.
No man deserves the com∣mendation due upon the ac∣count of Goodness, if he have not the resolution and courage to be wicked. All other de∣grees of Goodness argue only
a privation and Lethargy of Vices.
The Love of Justice in up∣right Judges, who are mode∣rate persons, is only a love of their own exaltation. In the greatest part of men, it is only a fear of suffering injustice, and a lively apprehension of our being depriv'd of that which belongs to us. Hence proceed that consideration and respect which we have for the concerns of our Neighbour, and that scrupulous suspence of doing him any prejudice. Were it not for this fear, which confines a man to a contented∣ness with those goods bestow'd on him by his Birth or For∣tune,
he would, incited by a violent desire of self-preserva∣tion, endeavour to be conti∣nually preying upon others.
In Justice we may reflect on four considerables, Justice it self which sees no more then what it ought to * 1.1 see; Integrity, which weighs the true right and merit of things; Perspicacity, which perceives things imperceptible of themselves; and Judgment, which gives sentence what the things are. And yet if we per∣fectly examine it, we shall find, that all its Qualities may be summ'd up in one accom∣plishment, called Grandeur of
Mind, which in all emergencies, by reason of its extraordinary illumination, sees all the advan∣tages before mentioned.
Judgment is only a Gran∣deur of the Mind; heightned with all acquirable illuminati∣on: The same thing may be said of its extent, of its depth, of its discerning faculty, of its justice, of its integrity, and of its perspicacity. The ex∣tent of the mind is the measure of that illumination; the depth is that which discovers the grounds of things; by the discretive faculty the same things are compar'd together and distinguish'd.
Perseverance is neither blame-worthy nor praise-wor∣thy; inasmuch as it is a conti∣nuation of those gusts and sen∣timents, which it is not in a man's power to assume or de∣vest himself of.
Truth, from which men are denominated ingenuous and sincere, is an imperceptible ambition they have, to render their testimony considerable, and ingage others to give a re∣ligious respect and credit to their words.
Truth is the ground-work and justification of Reason, Perfection, and Beauty: for it is certain, that a thing, what ever nature it be of, is beauti∣ful and perfect, if it be all it ought to be, and if it have all it ought to have.
True Eloquence consists in saying whatever is requisite, and in not saying any more then what is requisite.
There is as great a discovery of Eloquence in the accent of the voice, 〈…〉〈…〉 he choice of words.
The Passions are the only Orators which always per∣swade: They are as it were an Art in Nature, whose Rules are infallible. By this latter the simplest person in the World may have greater suc∣cess in perswasion, then ano∣ther with all the artifices and flowers of Eloquence.
There is not any thing so con∣tagious as Example, and what∣ever actions are done remark∣able either for their Goodness or Mischief, they are Patterns to others to do the like. The imitation of virtuous actions proceeds from Emulation; and the imitation of lewd actions proceeds from an excess of na∣tural malignancy, which, be∣ing as it were kept in restraint by Goodness, is set at liberty by Example.
Imitation always proves un∣fortunate, and whatever is
counterfeited breeds a disgust, and that in those very things which would delight, if they were naturally represented.
It is observable in persons brought to publick execution, that they express a certain con∣stancy, in their punishment, and betray an indifference and contempt of death: yet all is but a personated affectation, and done out of design to per∣swade that they think not of it. So that it may be said, that those seeming indifferences and contempts do that to their mind, which the Cap pull'd down over their faces does to their Eyes.
Few know what Death is. It is endúr'd, not out of reso∣lution, but stupidity and cu∣stom, and the greatest part of men dy, without any other re∣flection on their departure hence, then that others go the same way.
We fear all things with a certain acknowledgment of our Mortality, and we desire all, as if we were Immor∣tal.
Subtlety is a counterfeit per∣spicacity, and Perspicacity is a solid Subtlety.
The World not having the apprehension or knowledge of true merit, must accordingly be incapable of requiting it. Thence it comes, that it ad∣vances to its grandeurs and dignities, only such persons as have some excellency of en∣dowments in appearance, and it generally crowns whatever glisters, though all be not gold that does so.
As there are some meats, which, though good, bring a certain qualm and coldness over the heart, so is there a kind of faint Merit, and some persons, who, with their ex∣cellent and esteemable qualities give a disgust to those they converse withal.
Whatever dazles breeds ad∣miration, and the art of setting off mean qualities with ad∣vantage surprizes mens esteem, and many times gains greater reputation then true Merit.
Soveraign Princes use their subjects as they do their Coins; they give them what value they please, and others are forc'd to receive them accord∣ing to their currency; and not according to their true worth.
It is not only sufficient that a man be Master of great Qua∣lities, but it is also requisite he have the Oeconomy thereof.
There are certain persons whose recommendation and
merit consists in the saying or doing of ridiculous things with some advantage, and who would spoil all they under∣took, if they took any other course.
Nay there are some persons whom their imperfections be∣come well, and others, who are disparag'd by their good Qualities.
There are a sort of simple persons, who are sufficiently sensible of their simplicity, and yet betray a certain subtilty in the management of it.
God hath dispos'd different Talents in man, as he hath planted kinds of Trees in Na∣ture; insomuch that, as every tree, so every Talent hath its properties and effects which are peculiar thereto. Whence it comes, that the best Pear∣tree in the world cannot bear Apples, though of the most or∣dinary sort, and so conse∣quently the most excellent Ta∣lent cannot produce the same effects with those which are most common. Thence we may also make this further de∣duction, that it is as ridiculous for a man to pretend to those fruits whereof he hath not the
seeds in himself, as to expect that a Garden should bring forth Tulips, when nothing but Onions had been sown in it.
Whoever is desirous to be setled in the World uses his ut∣most endeavours to have it be∣liev'd, that he is so setled al∣ready. In all Professions and Arts, every one assumes a cer∣tain mean, and exteriour de∣portment, which he substitutes into the place of the Thing, whereof he would pretend to the reality and merit. So that all the world is but an artifici∣ous representation of several garbs, and it is in vain we take
pains to find therein the Things themselves.
There are a sort of people may be compar'd to those tri∣vial Songs, which all are in an humour to sing for a certain time, how flat and distasteful soever they may be.
That degree of honour which a man hath already ac∣quir'd is the security, to him, of what he may afterwards acquire.
As in Nature there is an e∣ternal generation, and that the corruption of one thing is al∣ways the production of ano∣ther: in like manner is there in the heart of man a perpetu∣al generation, or repullulation of Passions, so that the expira∣tion of one is always the re∣establishment of another.
I am in some suspence, whe∣ther that Maxime, That every thing produces its like, be true in natural things: but certain I am, that it is false in Morality, and that among the Passions,
some many times beget such as are contrary to them. Thus Avarice does sometimes pro∣duce Liberality; a man may be constant or resolute, out of weakness, and boldness may proceed from Timidity.
That Man was not created as he now is, may be con∣victively argu'd hence, that the more rational he becomes, the more he is asham'd in him∣self at the extravagance, the meanness, and the corruption of his sentiments and inclina∣tions.
Men are always mistaken in the judgment they make of our Actions, when these latter transcend our designs.
It is requisite there should be a certain proportion between the Actions and the Designs whereby they are produced: the Actions are never so fully effectual as they ought to be.
Passion does many times make the subtlest man a fool, and, on the contrary for the
most part makes the simplest persons seem to be subtle.
Every man is not more dif∣ferent from other men, than he is many times from himself.
All people are apt to censure and find fault with that in o∣thers, which is no less censure∣able in themselves.
A person of excellent parts would many times be at a loss, were it not for the company of fools.
Mens reflections and senti∣ments have each of them a cer∣tain accent of voice, and an action and air peculiar there∣to.
These qualifications make either good or bad Co∣medians; and hence it comes also that certain persons are pleasant or unpleasant in con∣versation.
The confidence a man hath of being pleasant in his de∣meanour
is a means whereby he infallibly comes to be such.
There is not any thing should abate so much of the sa∣tisfaction we conceive of our selves, as our observance, that we now disapprove of the con∣ditions and sentiments we for∣merly had been of.
We never in a manner have courage enough to follow the full bent of our Reason.
The love and inclinations we find in our selves for new Acquaintances, proceeds not so much from a weariness or satie∣ty of the old ones, nor yet from the satisfaction of variety, as from the disgust we conceive at our not being sufficiently ad∣mir'd by those who know us too well, and the hope we are in of gaining a greater ad∣miration among those who are not much acquainted. with us.
Great souls are not those who are less subject to Passi∣ons, and have greater atten∣dance
of Virtues, than the or∣dinary ones, but those only who have greater Illumina∣tions.
There are some who make it their boast that they are not wearied, or out of humour; but how impertinently they do it, appears hence, that no man without being ridiculous, can be so fondly conceited of himself, as that some time or other he should not be ill com∣pany.
The welfare of the soul is not more certain than that of
the Body, how far soever we may seem to be out of the ju∣risdiction of those Passions, which we have not yet had oc∣casion to struggle withal. Yet is it to be imagined, that a man is no less exposed thereto, than he is to fall sick, when he is in perfect health.
There is a certain injustice and self-concern in the Passi∣ons, whence it comes that they are always offensive and in∣jurious, even when they seem to speak most reason and equi∣ty. Only Charity hath the pri∣viledge of saying in a manner what it pleases, and never in∣juring any one.
Greatness of wit is a perpe∣tual decoy of the Heart.
Though a man be ever so industrious in the smothering of his Passion, under the veil of piety and honour, yet some claw thereof will still be visi∣ble.
Philosophy may easily tri∣umph over Evils past, as also over those not yet ready to as∣sault a man; but the present triumph over it.
The duration of our Passi∣ons hath no more dependance on us, than that of our lives.
Though all the Passions should conceal themselves, yet are they not afraid of the light; only Envy is a timorous and bashful Passion, which a man is asham'd to countenance or ac∣knowledge.
The most sacred and most sincere friendship is but a kind of Commerce, whereby we
imagine there is still some ad∣vantage to be made.
The sickleness and incon∣stancy of our Friendships pro∣ceed hence, that it is an easie matter to discover the quali∣ties of the mind, and difficult to be acquainted with those of the soul.
We are impertinently in∣duc'd to affect some persons more powerful than our selves. But we are to impute the pro∣duction of our friendship to interest, inasmuch as our pro∣mises to them are not regulated
according to what we would bestow on them, but accord∣ing to what we expect to re∣ceive from them.
Love is, in the soul of him who loves, what the soul it self is in the body, which it ani∣mates and informs.
It is impossible there should be a love that is pure and free from all intermixture with our other Passions.
It is a hard matter to define Love: all we can say of it, is, that, in the Soul, it is a Passion admits no corrivalship in point of Empire; in the Spirits, it is a Sympathy, and in Bodies, it is a close and delicate desire of enjoying what we love after a mysterious way.
'Tis a great mistake, to think that Love and Ambition triumph over all the other Passions: on the contrary, Sloth, notwithstanding all its languishment, hath many times a soveraignty over them;
this insensibly usurps an Em∣pire over all the designs, and over all the actions of life; this destroys and compleats all the Passions, and all the Virtues employ'd in the conduct of it.
There is not any disguise can long smother Love where it is, nor long personate it, where it is not.
Whereas there is no admissi∣on of Free-will in loving or not-loving, it follows that a Lover cannot with any ju∣stice complain of the cruelty
of his Mistress, nor the Mi∣stress of the fickleness of her Lover.
If we make an estimate of Love, according to the gene∣rality of its effects, it hath a greater resemblance to hatred than to friendship.
It is possible there may be found some Women who were never guilty of any gallant∣ries; but it were a rare thing to meet with any one, that had never been guilty thereof but once.
There are two kinds of con∣stancy in love, one proceed∣ing hence, that a man perpe∣tually finds new motives of loving, in the person whom he loves, as in an inexhausti∣ble source; and the other pro∣ceeds hence, that a man thinks himself concern'd in point of honour to keep his word.
All Constancy in Love is a perpetual Inconstancy, inas∣much as we find our hearts con∣tinually wavering in a vicissi∣tude of inclinations, towards the perfections of the person
whom we are in love with, giving one while the prehe∣minence to one, another, to a∣nother: so that this Constan∣cy is but an Inconstancy limit∣ed and confined within the same subject.
There are two sorts of In∣constancies; the former pro∣ceeds from that fickleness of mind, which ever and anon admits of a change of opini∣on; or rather from that mean∣ness of spirit, which complies with all the several opinions of others. The latter, which is the more excusable of the two, proceeds from the different ap∣prehensions
we have of the things which we love.
Great and heroick actions which dazle their eyes who consider them, are represented by Politicians, as if they were the effects of great Interests; whereas they are ordinarily the effects of humour and pas∣sions. Thus the war between Augustus and Marc Antony, which some imputed to the Ambition they had of aspiring to the Empire of the World, was an effect of their mutual jealousie.
The affairs and actions of great men are in this particu∣lar comparable to Statues, that they are to be survey'd accord∣ing to a certain observance of Perspective. Some are to be view'd neer at hand, that we may the better discern all the circumstances thereof; and there are others, whose beau∣ties and symmetry are best dis∣coverable at a distance.
Jealousie is in some respects rational and just, since its de∣sign is only to secure to our selves a good which we con∣ceive
ought to belong to us; whereas Envy is a distraction and extravagance, which makes us wish the ruine of a good properly belonging to others.
Self-love is a fond conceit in any one, that his affection to all other things ought to pro∣mote the pursuit of his own concerns. Its subtlety and in∣sinuation transcend those of a∣ny thing else. It makes men Idolaters of themselves, and would make them Tyrants o∣ver others, if Fortune gave them the means to be so. It is never at rest out of it self, and makes no stay in other subjects,
but as Bees do upon flowers, to get out of them what pro∣motes its own interest. There is not any thing so impetuous and violent as its desires; not any thing so insearchable as its de∣signs; not any thing so crafti∣ly carry'd on as its contri∣vances. Its compliances are not to be represented; its transformations exceed those of Poetical Metamorphoses; and its sublimations of things transcend those of Chymistry it self. A man cannot sound the depth of its projects, nor find any passage into the dark∣ness of its recesses: there it defies the sharpness of the most piercing Opticks. It there makes a thousand turnings and windings; nay it is there ma∣ny
times invisible even to it self. There it conceives, there it nur∣ses, there it raises up (not know∣ing it) a multiplicity of Affecti∣ons and Aversions: Of these it many times frames some so monstrous, that when it hath brought them to light, it dis∣claims all knowledge of them, or cannot be prevailed with to own them. From this dark∣ness, wherein they are involv'd, spring those ridiculous per∣swasions which it hath of it self. Thence proceed its er∣rors, its ignorances, its stupi∣dities, and its simplicities, as to what relates to it self. Thence it comes, that it imagines its sentiments to be dead, when they are but laid asleep, that it thinks it hath no
further desire to run, when it does repose it self, and con∣ceits it hath lost all the gusts, which it hath satiated. But this great obscurity, which deprives it of its own view, hinders not its perfect survey of whatever is without it, up∣on which consideration it may be compar'd to our eyes, which discover all about them, and are blind only as to themselves. To be short, in its greatest concerns, and most important affairs, wherein the violence of its wishes summons all its attention, it sees, it resents, it understands, it imagines, it suspects, it penetrates, it gues∣ses at all things; so that it raises in others a temptation of believing that each of its passi∣ons
hath a certain enchant∣ment peculiar thereto. There is not any thing so close and so strong as its engagement, which it vainly endeavors to dissolve, upon the first sight of the ex∣traordinary misfortunes which threaten it. And yet it often does in a short time, and with∣out any violence, what it could not have done with all those efforts, whereof it is capable, in the course of several years. Whence it might with much probability, be concluded, that its desires are inflamed by it self, rather than by the attra∣ctions and excellency of its ob∣jects; that its own gust is the motive whereby they are heightned, and the paint whereby they are embellish'd;
that it pursues it self, and fol∣lows only what it has propos'd to it self. It is a confus'd in∣termixture of contraries, as participating of imperious∣ness and submission, sincerity and dissimulation, clemency and cruelty, timorousness and audacity, and it betrays a di∣versity of inclinations, accord∣ing to that of the Tempera∣ments, whereby it is turn'd and directed to the pursuance of repute, wealth, or pleasures. And in these it admits of a change and vicissitude, accord∣ing to the difference of our Ages, our Fortunes, and our Experiences: but it is indiffe∣rent to it, whether it have many of those inclinations, or that it hath but one, because it
hath the knack of dilating it self into several of them, or contracting it self to one, when it thinks requisite, and as it thinks fit. It is inconstant, and besides the changes which hap∣pen to it from other causes, there are an infinite number of such flowing from it self, and arising upon its own account: This Inconstancy also proceeds from different motives, as pure fickleness, love, novelty, weariness, and disgust. It is humorous to extremity, inso∣much that it is sometimes em∣ployed with the greatest ear∣nestness imaginable, and in∣credible pains-taking, about the attainment of things, which are so far from being advan∣tageous, that they are preju∣dicial
to it, and it is engag'd upon the pursuit of them, out of no other reflection than that it would needs have them. It is fantastick, and thence it comes also, that it is extream∣ly intentive in the most frivo∣lous employments. It finds a height of pleasure in the meanest occupations, and a∣bates nothing of its ardency in the most contemptible. It posts it self in the several stages of life, and spreads it self into all conditions and qualificati∣ons. It finds a being every where, it lives on any thing, and can make a shift to subsist without any thing, making its advantage of things, and of their privation. Nay, some∣times, out of pure compassion,
it sides with those who profess an hostility against it. It finds a way to creep into their de∣signs, and, what cannot be consider'd without admiration, it raises in them an aversion for it self, conspiring its own destruction and promoting its own ruine. In fine, it mat∣ters not where it hath a being, so it have one, and in order to that, it is content to be its own enemy. Nor is it to be wondred at, that it should so confidently enter into an asso∣ciation with the severest pity, when it contributes to its own destruction, in regard that at the very same time that it is ru∣ined in one part, it is re-esta∣blished in another: when it is imagined, that it quits its en∣joyment,
it does only change it into satisfaction: and when a man gives it over for con∣quer'd, and thinks himself rid of it, he meets with it again rallying in the triumphs of its defeat. This may serve for a Description of self-love, whereof all humane life is but a great and long agitation. The Sea is the most sensible representation we can propose to our selves of it; inasmuch as self-love finds, in the vio∣lence of its continual waves, a faithful expression of the suc∣cessive and reciprocal distur∣bance of its own reflections and perpetual motions.
But we have this further re∣mark to give of self-love; that, as if it were not enough for it, to have the virtue of trans∣forming it self, it has also that of transforming the objects on which it works; which it does after a strange and surprizing manner. For it not only dis∣guises them so well, that it is it self deceiv'd therein, but also as if its actions were mira∣cles, it makes, in effect, an un∣expected change in the state and nature of the things. When any person opposes us, and employs all the hatred and per∣secution he can against us, it is our own self-love that judges
of his actions. This is that which takes a full prospect of his imperfections, which ren∣ders them enormous, and pla∣ces his good endowments in so disadvantageous a light, as causes in us a greater disgust of them than of his miscarriages. Yet is it observable withal, that assoon as the same person is admitted into any favour in our apprehensions, or any con∣cern of our own hath wrought a reconciliation between him and us, our particular satisfa∣ction immediately restores his merit to that lustre, which our aversion had before depriv'd him of. All his advantages are then susceptible of all the Biass we can give them, and we look on them accordingly. All
his ill qualities vanish, and we are so partial on the other side, as to summon all our abilities and understanding, to justifie the prejudice which those had against us.
Though all the Passions make a certain discovery of this Truth, yet does Love make a greater demonstration of it than any of the rest. For we find an amorous person ex∣asperated with rage, at the apparent forgetfulness of a Mi∣stress, and breaking forth into extravagant exclamations a∣gainst Heaven and Hell, upon a discovery of her infidelity: And yet assoon as the same
Beauty comes into his sight, and that her presence hath calm'd the fury of his tran∣sportations, his ravishment pleads for her innocence. He hath no longer any thing to object against her, but turns all his accusations upon himself, and reverses his former sen∣tence of condemnation, and, by that miraculous virtue of self-love, he so translates all criminousness from the actions of his Mistress, as to change his jealousie into adoration.
Familiarity is a deviation from the observance of most of those rules establish'd for the conduct of Civil Life. Or we
may say, it is a certain light∣ness of demeanour, which Libertinism hath introduc'd into Society, to lead us into that kind of correspondency, which is accounted most con∣venient.
It may be further affirmed, that this familiarity is an effect of self-love, which, desirous to make all things compliant with our weakness, obliges us to cast off that decent subje∣ction impos'd upon us by sound Morality; and out of an over∣earnestness of finding out the ways to make good manners convenient for us, occasions their degeneration into vices.
The weaker Sex being natu∣rally more inclin'd to effemi∣nacy and mildness than the o∣ther, is accordingly more apt to be guilty of this relaxation, and makes a greater loss there∣by. As for instance, the au∣thority and prerogatives of the Sex are not kept up; the respect due thereto suffers a diminution; and it may be said, that decency loses there∣by the greatest part of its rights. There are but few in∣clin'd to cruelty, out of a pure motive of cruelty; but it may be affirmed, that the cruelty and inhumanity of most men
proceeds from a certain sug∣gestion of Self-Love.
There are many things, be∣sides the love of Fame, which contribute to the acquisition of that Valour that is so highly celebrated among men. For it is sometimes the effect of a dread of ignominy; some∣times of the design a man has laid for the raising of his For∣tunes; sometimes, it proceeds from a desire of promoting the divertisements and conveni∣ences of our life, and some∣times from an affectation of de∣pressing others, and getting them under our jurisdiction.
It may be further affirmed, that Valour in Men, and Cha∣stity in Women, two qualifi∣cations which make so much noise in the World, are the products of Vanity and Shame, and principally of their parti∣cular Temperaments.
Mens insatiate inclinations to Women proceed from a certain envy of their Chastity, since they endeavour all the ways imaginable to corrupt them, as if they were not yet fully reveng'd for the first tem∣ptation of the Sex.
Perfect Valour and compleat Cowardise, are extremities whereto men seldom arrive; The distance between them is of a vast extent, and compre∣hends all the other species of Courage; and there is no less difference between these, than there is between mens faces and humours. Yet is there a cer∣tain agreement and conformi∣ty among them in many things: there are some men who cheerfully expose them∣selves at the beginning of an action, but easily flag, and are disheartned in the prosecution of it. There are some again, who think they have suffici∣ently
acquitted themselves, when they have behav'd them∣selves to that pitch of honour which satisfies the World, and seldom offer at any thing tran∣scending it. We also observe some, who are not at all times equally masters of their fear: others are discourag'd by ge∣neral frights; others think it more safe to run into a charge than to continue in their posts. In fine, there are some, whom an habitual acquaintance with lesser dangers heightens into a higher degree of courage, and prepares for an exposal of themselves to greater hazards. Moreover, there is yet a ge∣neral correspondence observa∣ble among the courages of the different species before men∣tioned,
which is, that the dark∣ness of night augmenting fear, and casting an obscurity over good and bad actions, gives them the liberty to make a greater husbandry of their valour. There is yet a more general thrift of courage, which, speaking absolutely, hath an influence over all sorts of men, and is this, that there are not any but would demean themselves to the utmost of their power in an action, if they had but an assurance of their coming off. So that it is certainly deducible hence, that the fear of death makes a cer∣tain abatement of their Valour, and subtracts somewhat from its effects.
Pure Valour, if there were any such thing, would consist in the doing of that without witnesses, which it were able to do, if all the world were to be spectators thereof.
Intrepidity, or a defiance of Fear, is an extraordinary force of the Soul, whereby it re∣presses the troubles, distur∣bances and disorders, which the apprehension of great dan∣gers is wont to raise in it. By this force, or courage, persons of a truly Heroick Spirit keep themselves in a continual sere∣nity,
and have a free exercise of all their functions, in the most dreadful and most sur∣prizing accidents of humane life. This intrepidity is that which must keep up the heart in great Conspiracies, whereas bare Valour supplies it only with that constancy and reso∣lution, which are requisite in the hazards of War.
Men are loth to lose their lives, yet desirous to acquire fame; thence it comes, that persons of much gallantry and courage discover greater sub∣tlety and evasions in their en∣deavours to shun death, than they who are best versed in
the Law do, to preserve their Estates.
Valour in the common sol∣diery is a hazardous Trade they have taken up, to get a miserable subsistence.
Most men make a sufficient exposal of themselves to the hazards of War, out of a mo∣tive of securing their reputa∣tion; but few will at all times expose themselves, as far as is necessary, to compass the de∣sign, for which they do expose themselves.
Persons of great and ambi∣tious spirits are more misera∣ble than those of a meaner con∣dition; for there is less requi∣site for the satisfaction of the latter, than of the former.
Generosity is a desire of be∣ing eminently remarkable for some extraordinary actions: it is a subtle and industrious packing together of uncon∣cernedness, constancy, friend∣ship, and magnanimity, to make a speedy advance to a high re∣putation.
How great soever the ad∣vantages and accomplishments of Nature may be, yet is it not She, but Fortune, that makes Heroes.
Felicity consists not in the things themselves, but in mens imaginations of them; whence it comes, that he is happy who hath what he loves, and not what others think amia∣ble.
It may be affirm'd that ei∣ther there are not any happy or unhappy accidents, or that all accidents are both happy and unhappy, inasmuch as the prudent know how to make their advantages of the bad, and the imprudent many times turn the most advantagious emergencies to their own pre∣judice.
Merit comes from the trea∣sury of Nature, but is set on work by Fortune.
Goods and Evils are much greater in our imaginations of them, than they are in effect; and men are never so happy or unhappy, as they think them∣selves.
What difference soever there may be between the For∣tunes, yet is there a certain proportion of Goods and Evils which makes them equal.
Those who have any con∣ceitedness of their own merit
are always repining at their be∣ing unfortunate, whereby they would perswade others, as well as themselves, that there is something heroick in them, since it is to be presum'd, that the malice of Fortune is never so much bent upon the perse∣cution of any persons as those of extraordinary endowments. Thence it comes that men com∣fort themselves in their being unfortunate, out of a certain pleasure they take in seeming such.
Men are never so unhappy as they imagine themselves, nor so happy as they hope.
Most people observe, in men, only the esteem they are in, and the merit of their For∣tune.
It is incident only to great Persons to be guilty of great miscarriages.
Though Ministers of State flatter themselves with a con∣ceit of the greatness of their actions, and attribute them to their conduct and prudence, yet are they many times but
the effects of hazard, or some inconsiderable design.
The aversion which many express towards Favourites, is only a love of Fortune and favour. The same aversion proceeds also from a certain exasperation conceiv'd at ones being out of favour, which is a little comforted and allevi∣ated, by the contempt of Fa∣vourites. In fine, it is a secret desire of their ruine, which makes us deprive them of their own homages, it being not in our power to devest them of those qualities and accomplish∣ments, which draw those of all others towards them.
Great men are at last brought down and crush'd by the continuance of their mis∣fortunes. It is not to be in∣ferr'd hence, that they were undaunted when they support∣ed them, but it may be said they suffer'd a kind of torture, to gain the opinion of seeming such; and that they bore their misfortunes, by the force of their Ambition, and not by the greatness of their Courage. Hence it is further manifest, that, abating the greatness of their Vanity, Heroes are of the same making with other men.
It is a fond imagination to think that men are lov'd and honour'd for their Virtues; on the contrary, it is for them, that they are hated and en∣vy'd.
Yet may it be said, that whenever we honour any up∣on the account of their Virtues, it proceeds either from our be∣ing truly inclin'd to Virtue, or a desire of being accounted such.
They who would define Vi∣ctory by its birth, would be tempted, in imitation of the Poets, to call her the Daugh∣ter of Heaven, since we find not her origine upon Earth. In effect, she is the product of an infinite number of Actions, which instead of taking her for their aim, relate only on the particular concerns of those who do them; since all those persons, whereof an Army con∣sists, endeavouring the acquest of their own reputation and advancement, jointly procure a good so great and so general as Victory.
There is little distinction made in the species of Anger, though there be a slight, and in a manner an innocent kind of it, proceeding from the earnestness of the Com∣plexion; and another very mis∣chievous, which is, properly speaking, Pride, and Self-love combining into a fury.
We are sensible of, or reflect on the transports and extraor∣dinary agitations of our Hu∣mours and Temperament, and impute them to the violent sallies of Anger; but there
are very few perceive, that these humours have an ordina∣ry and regular course, which gently moves and turns our wills to the performance of dif∣ferent actions. They roll to∣gether (if I may so express it) and exercise their jurisdiction with a certain vicissitude, so as that they have a considera∣ble part in all our actions, whereof we imagine our selves to be the only Authors; and the capriciousness of the Hu∣mours is yet more fantastick than that of Fortune.
We are liberal of our re∣monstrances and reprehensi∣ons towards those, whom we
think guilty of miscarriages; but we therein betray more pride, than charity. Our re∣proving them does not so much proceed from any desire in us of their reformation, as from an insinuation that we our selves are not chargeable with the like faults. Were we our selves without pride, we should be the farther from charging others with it.
We are so strangely besot∣ted with a favourable conceit of our selves, that many times what passes for Virtues in our apprehensions, is, in effect, but an accumulation of Vi∣ces, which have some resem∣blance
thereto, so disguis'd by our Pride and Self-love.
Pride is always on the win∣ning hand; nay it loses no∣thing, even when it seems to discard Vanity it self.
The blind precipitancy of men in their actions, is, of all the effects of their Pride, the most dangerous. This is that which affords it nourishment and augmentation; and it is a manifest argument of our want of light, that we are ignorant of all our miseries, and all our imperfections.
We do not hug our selves in any thing so much, as the con∣fidence which great Persons and such as are considerable for their employments, parts, or merit, seem to repose in us. From this we derive an exqui∣site pleasure, as being that which raises our Pride to the highest pitch, because we look on it as an acknowledgment and effect of our fidelity. And yet, if we consider'd well the imperfection and bastardise of its birth, it should rather raise a confusion in us: for it pro∣ceeds from Vanity, a letchery of making discoveries, and a disability of keeping secrets.
So that it may be said, that con∣fidence is a relaxation of the Soul caus'd by the number and weight of the things, which before gave it some pressure.
The ancient Philosophers, and especially Seneca, have not taken away Crimes by their Precepts, but have only laid them down to carry on the superstructures of Pride.
The Comedy of humane life consists of many several parts, yet Pride alone makes a shift to act most of them; but, at last, weary of its artifices and
different transformations, it appears in its natural looks, and makes an open discovery of it self in scorn; so that, to speak properly, Scorn is the light∣ning, or declaration of Pride.
Vanity is the great Author of all complemental and su∣perfluous talk; when that gives over suggesting, people have no great matter of di∣scourse.
It were too hard a task to enumerate all the species of Vanity, inasmuch as it ex∣tends to the infinity of things.
Thence it comes that so few persons are knowing, and that our knowledges are superflu∣ous and imperfect. Instead of Definitions of things, we con∣tent our selves with the De∣scriptions of them. In effect, we neither have, nor can come to the knowledge of them, but at random, and by certain common marks. Which is as much as if one said, that the body of man is streight, and consists of different parts, with∣out assigning the matter, situa∣tion, functions, corresponden∣cies, and differences of its parts.
As concerning the good qualities remarkable in others, we heighten them rather ac∣cording to the esteem of our sentiments, than proportiona∣bly to their merit; and we in effect commend our selves, when we seem to give them their due praises. And that Modesty which stands so much upon the refusal of them, is in∣deed but a desire of having such as are more delicate.
In all commendations, where∣ever they are bestow'd, there is some dormant design and
interest of the giver. Praise is a subtle secret and delicate flattery, from which both the person who gives it, and he who receives it, derive a dif∣ferent satisfaction: the one takes it as an acknowledgment and reward of his merit; the other gives it, to make a dis∣covery of his equity in dis∣cerning worth.
We many times make choice of poysonous Praises, which by an unexpected cast discover those imperfections in our friends which we durst not di∣vulge otherwise.
We hold mens Praises and Dispraises in several Scales, and make them weigh heavier or lighter, as we please our selves.
There are few arriv'd to that degree of wisdom, as to pre∣fer the discommendation, which is advantageous to them, before the praise which be∣trays them.
There are some who com∣mend when they make account
to reproach; and others whose praises are detractions.
Raillery is a frolick humour of the mind, which gives a life and smartness to conversation, and is the cement of Society, if it be obliging, or disturbs it, if it be not such.
He who is inclin'd to raille∣ry is more likely to be the subject of it, than he who en∣dures it.
To give it a fuller chara∣cter, we may say it is always a certain skirmish of Wit and Drollery, whereto the several parties are egg'd on by Vanity. Whence it comes, that as well they who are awanting in those, to carry it on, as they whom a reproach'd imperfe∣ction causes to blush, are equal∣ly offended at it, as at an in∣jurious defeat, which they know not how to pardon.
In fine, this Raillery is a Poyson, which taken without mixture extinguishes Friend∣ship,
and excites Aversion, but, being corrected by the ingre∣dience of jocundity, and the flattery of praise, does either acquire or continue it. It is a Medicine to be used with much caution and prudence, amongst Friends and the weak∣er sort.
Interest is the Master-spring, which sets all sorts of persons in motion; it makes them act all parts, even to that of a dis-interess'd person.
Men may pretend as much as they please to Candour, sin∣cerity,
and Honesty, in their actions, but God only knows how far they are carried on with those qualifications.
Sincerity is a natural and vo∣luntary overture of the heart: It is a rarity, and found in very few persons: and that which is commonly practis'd is only a subtle dissimulation, or strata∣gem, whereby some endeavour to inveigle others into confi∣dence.
Had not mens hearts been so skreen'd, as that there should be no mutual observance of
one another's thoughts, there had been more Tragedy than Comedy in Humane Life.
In this the prudent man is distinguishable from the im∣prudent, that he regulates his interests, and directs them to the prosecution of his designs each in their order. Our earnestness does many times raise a disturbance in them, by hurrying us after a hundred things at once. Thence it pro∣ceeds, that out of an excessive desire of the less important, we do not what is requisite for the attainment of the most conside∣rable.
Interest may be compar'd to an eclips'd Luminary. For as the latter is such only in respect of those to whom the Eclipse is visible and not to others, who have their abode in climates far remote from it; So of in∣terest, it may be said, that if some are blinded by it, to others it is all the light, where∣by they carry on their de∣signs.
It is the common assertion, that Vice deserves reproach, and Virtue praise; but it is certain, that both derive their
several degrees and measures thereof from interest.
Nature which makes osten∣tation of being always sensible, is upon the least occasion smo∣ther'd by interest.
The Philosophers do not discommend Riches, but only with a reflection upon our ill husbandry of them, as being in their own nature innocent and indifferent, since it de∣pends on us to acquire them, and to make an irreproachable use thereof, whereas they con∣tribute support and augmenta∣tion
of Vices, as fuel does to the keeping in and increasing of fire. It is in our power to consecrate them to the cultiva∣tion of all the Virtues, and to make these, by their means, the more delightful and re∣markable.
The contempt of wealth, in the Philosophers, was a secret desire of vindicating their me∣rit, against the injustice of Fortune, by an affected slight∣ing of those goods, whereof she depriv'd them. It was an hu∣morous secret, which they had found out, to indemnifie themselves from the disparage∣ment accessory to Poverty. In
fine, it was a winding path, or by-way to get into that esteem, which they could not obtain by Riches.
Of all the kinds of subtlety, that proceeding from insinua∣tion is the poorest, since it ever argues a lowness of spirit, and an indigency of intrinsical me∣rit.
There is not any thing so dangerous as the use of those insinuations and artifices which so many ingenious persons are commonly guilty of. The most vers'd in humane transactions
endeavour all they can in ordi∣nary occurrences to shun them, to the end they may make their advantage thereof upon some great occasion, and in the pur∣suit of some considerable in∣terest.
Whereas these crafty insinu∣ations are commonly the re∣fuges of a mean spirit, it ac∣cordingly, for the most part, comes to pass, that he who makes use thereof to disguise himself in one part, discovers himself in another.
It is the quintessence of all craft, for a man to make a show of falling into those snares which are laid for him, and yet to keep out of them. Men are never so easily deceiv∣ed as when their thoughts are most bent upon the over-reach∣ing of others.
It is a fond conceitedness, which makes every one think himself a greater Master: in point of craft than another: If men endeavour'd to under∣stand what are the offices of true prudence, all the designs
of subtlety and treachery would be defeated by circum∣spection.
Follies and imprudencies are our perpetual attendants through the several scenes of our life; and if any one seem to be discreet, it is only in this, that his extravagances are proportion'd to his Age and Fortune.
The wisest men are only such in things indifferent, but seldom have that denomina∣tion justly attributed to them in their most serious affairs;
and whoever thinks he lives without some ingredient of ex∣travagance, is not so wise as he imagines himself.
Weakness occasions the com∣mitting of more treacherous actions, than the real design of being treacherous.
Sycophancy, evasions, and dissimulations are instill'd into us from our very Cradles, and afterwards grow so habitual to us, that we can hardly be e∣ver wean'd from them.
What pretences soever we disguise our afflictions withal, yet are they but the effects of Interest and Vanity.
There is a great mixture of Hypocrisie in Afflictions. For under pretence of bewailing a person, for whom we have a more than ordinary kindness, we lament the diminution of our own good, satisfaction, or concern in the person whom we have lost. And thus is it, that the deceas'd have the honour of those tears, which are shed only for them, from whose
eyes they fall. I affirm'd it to be a kind of Hypocrisie, be∣cause a man does thereby de∣ceive only himself.
There is yet another kind of this Hypocrisie, which is not so innocent, but imposes up∣on all the world, and that is, the affliction of certain persons, who aspire to the glory of a noble and immortal grief. For Time, who is the insatiate de∣vourer of all things, having consum'd that which they so much bemoan, yet do they still persist in an obstinacy of weeping, sighing, and com∣plaining. They assume a mournful part, and act it so
well, as if they made it their business to perswade the world, that they will spin out the continuance of their la∣mentations to an equal length with that of their lives. This dumpish and importunate va∣nity is commonly observable in Women of ambitious incli∣nations; proceeding hence, that their Sex obstructing their pursuit of fame all other ways, they cast themselves into this, and make it their endeavour to become eminent by the o∣stentation of a disconsolate grief. Of this kind would have been that of the famous Ephesian Matron, if the seaso∣nable relief and kindness of the Souldier had not given it an unexpected check.
Besides the account we have already given of grief, and the inherent Hypocrisie that at∣tends it, we have this further to adde, That there are other kinds of Tears, springing from certain small sources, and con∣sequently soon perceivable. Thus some weep, only to gain the reputation of being good-natur'd, and tender∣hearted. Others are liberal of their lamentations, to the end others might express the same compassion towards them. And in fine, there are those who shed tears, meerly out of a consideration that it were a
shame not to bear others com∣pany in doing so.
There are a sort of people who have the repute of ho∣nesty and fair dealing, yet are not really possess'd of those qualities, in regard they dis∣guise the corruption of their hearts, not only from others, but even from themselves. But they are the truly honest who have the perfect knowledge of that corruption, and make no difficulty to acknowledge it to others.
The truly honest person is he who is not offended at any thing.
There may be several causes assigned why we meet with so few persons, whom we allow to be rational and divertive in conversation. Of which this is one, that there is hardly any body, whose thoughts are not rather taken up with what he hath a mind to say himself, than in precisely answering what had been said to him; and that persons of greatest abili∣ties and complaisance think it
enough to make a show of at∣tention in their countenances, even when there may be ob∣serv'd, in their looks and ap∣prehensions, a certain distra∣ction, and a precipitancy of returning to what they would say, instead of considering, that it is an unlikely method of pleasing or perswading o∣thers, to be so intentive to please themselves; and that to hearken attentively, and to answer pertinently, is one of the greatest perfections a man can be Master of.
We will not say with Mon∣sieur de la Chambre, in his Art how to know men, that all
the formations of the parts in a Woman are Prognosticks of Vice, since it holds not true in other Countries, though hap∣ly it may in his; but this we shall not stick to affirm of the Sex in general, that the pretty humour they have in talking, their desire of gaudiness in ap∣parel, that of being waited on into Parks, Walks, Spring-Gardens, or any other place where they may make osten∣tation of their artifices, in heightning the advantages of Art or Nature, (all which ac∣complishments, with divers o∣thers, the French comprehend in the word Coquetterie) are so necessary to the composition of a Woman, that without some of them she must disclaim her
name. Yet have not all of that Sex the exercise of it, because this Coquetterie, in some of them, is check'd and restrain'd by their Temperament, their Reason, and want of conveni∣ences and opportunities.
Gallantry is a volubility of the mind, whereby it pene∣trates into things the most insi∣nuating and colloguing, that is, such as are most likely to please.
Politeness is an artificial im∣provement and cultivation of the mind, whereby superfluous
excrescencies are kept under in order to the production of what will be decent, delight∣ful and beautiful.
There are certain ingenious things which the mind seeks not after, but finds brought to their full perfection in it self; so that it should seem they lay hid there, as Gold and Dia∣monds do in the bosom of the earth.
When Kingdoms are come to their height in point of po∣liteness and civilization, it ar∣gues the approach of their de∣clination,
inasmuch as then, all their particular Inhabitants are bent upon the pursuit of their private concerns, and di∣verted from promoting the publick good.
If it be enquired why some men are so liberal of their civi∣lities towards others; it may be answer'd, that it is done, partly out of an expectation of having the like return'd to them, and partly out of a de∣sire of gaining the repute of understanding the mysteries of Civility.
The Magisterial part of a person who hath the repute of being well vers'd in humane affairs, is, that he perfectly know the value of every thing.
It happens sometimes that Vices are hated, but the indi∣gency of Virtue never escapes contempt.
When a man cannot find tranquillity within himself, 'tis to no purpose for him to seek it elsewhere.
That which many times ob∣structs our right judging of those sentences, which prove, that there may be only a show and pretence of Virtues, is this, that we are over-easily inclin'd to believe them real in our selves.
If men are advanc'd to great Charges, they accordingly meet with the greater difficul∣ties in the administration of them. Among those, that of a Supream Governour is the greatest; and of this qualifi∣cation again, that Prince hath
the hardest task of Govern∣ment incumbent upon him, whose subjects are distracted into a greater multiplicity of perswasions.
If that great Prince, who first had the denomination of Wise given him, and infinitely transcended in that Attribute all those who assum'd it some Ages after him, concluded his Ethical Recantations with a Vanity of Vanities, all is Vanity, what is there left for us to say, who are fallen into the dregs of Time, but the same thing in other words, That in all hu∣mane prescriptions there is an apparent dose of Vanity; that
there is an eye of it runs through the whole Web of mortal Transactions, not to be worn out of them, till the fi∣nal dissolution of all things?
Of all the kinds of Vanity, that may be ranked among the highest, or rather may claim a certain supremacy, which some persons are com∣monly subject to, who, to gain the repute of ingenuity with others, speak such things as cannot fall from them, without a secret compunction upon the delivery thereof. Of this predicament are they, who employ their drollery upon the subject of Obscenity,
and Atheism. As to the for∣mer, the greatest end they can propose to themselves, is, to have it imagin'd, that their forces, as to the Venereal Mi∣litia, have been, or are, in some measure, answerable to the Muster they make of them in their discourse, or at least, that their well-wishes and in∣clinations to the service are as great as ever. Of the latter, this may be said, that their satyrizing in divine concerns discovers their unsetled ap∣prehensions of a future Being, and begets, in those whom they seem to divert, a secret horrour for their positions, and a dis∣respect for their persons.
How strangely hath Provi∣dence ordered the conduct of humane affairs, that they, who are insatiably desirous of wealth, honours, or pleasures, should, for the most part, ob∣tain their desires, though pro∣secuted by indirect courses! What greater encouragement can they have, whose gene∣rous ambition aspires to things of a more permanent concern, that their industry shall be re∣warded? If they whose appre∣hensions of happiness are con∣fin'd to the narrow limits of this world, are many times gratifi'd with the success they propose to themselves, what
accumulation of recompence may not they expect, who, adjourning their felicity to the other, are no less fervent in the pursuance of it?
It was an excellent Dicho∣tomy of things found out by my Predecessor of famous me∣mory, the ancient Philosopher Epictetus, that they are either dependent on us or not. What a man is possess'd of within the sphere of that dependency on himself, he may truly call his own, and look on as contri∣butory to his happiness and sa∣tisfaction; what are out of it, must, if he survey them
not with an indifferent eye, prove the continual exercise of his hopes and fears, and so many disturbances of his tranquility.
P. 19.