Essays of Michael, seigneur de Montaigne in three books, with marginal notes and quotations of the cited authors, and an account of the author's life / new rendered into English by Charles Cotton, Esq.

ESSAYS OF Michael Seigneur de Montaigne. (Book 2)

The Second Book. (Book 2)

CHAP. I. Of the Inconstancy of our Actions.

SUch, as make it their business to con∣troul humane Actions, do not find themselves in any thing so much per∣plext, as to reconcile them, and bring them into the Worlds eye with the same Lustre and Reputation; for they do com∣monly so strangely contradict one another, that it seems impossible they should proceed

from one and the same Person. We find the younger Marius one while a Son of Mars, and another the Son of Venus. Pope Boniface the Eighth entred (says one) into his Papacy like a Fox, behaved himself in it like a Lyon, and died like a Dog. And who could believe it to be the same Nero, the perfect Image of all Cruelty, who, having the Sentence of a con∣demned man brought to him to Sign, cried out, O, that I had never been taught to Write. So much it went to his heart to condemn a man to Death. All Story is full of such Ex∣amples, and every man is able to produce so many to himself, or out of his own practice, or observation,* 1.1 that I sometimes wonder to see men of understanding give themselves the trouble of sorting these pieces, considering that irresolution appears to me to be the most com∣mon and manifest Vice of our Nature; Wit∣ness the famous Verse of the Player Publius,

* 1.2Malum consilium est, quod mutari non potest.

That Counsel's ill, that will admit no change.

There is some possibility of forming a judg∣ment of a man from the most usual methods of his life;* 1.3 but, considering the natural Insta∣bility of our manners and opinions, I have of∣ten thought even the best Authors a little out, in so obstinately endeavouring to make of us any constant and solid Contexture. They chuse a general Air of a man, and according

to that interpret all his Actions, of which, if some be so stiff and stubborn, that they can∣not bend or writh them to any uniformity with the rest, they are presently imputed to dissimulation. Augustus has escapt them,* 1.4 for there was in him so apparent, sudden, and con∣tinual variety of Actions, all the whole course of his life, that he is slipt away clear and un∣decided from the most hardy Censurers. I am more hardly induc't to believe a man's Con∣stancy than any other Virtue, and believe no∣thing sooner than the contrary. It is a hard matter, out of all Antiquity, to pick out a dozen men, who have form'd their lives to one certain and constant course, which is the principal design of Wisdom: For to comprize it all in one word, (says one of the Antients) and to contract all the Rules of humane life into one, it is to Will, and not to Will always one and the same thing: I will not vouchsafe, says he to add, provided the Will be just, for if it be not just, it is impossible it should be al∣ways one. I have indeed formerly learnt, That Vice is nothing but Irregularity and want of measure, and therefore 'tis impossible to fix constancy to it. 'Tis a saying of Demosthenes, That the beginning of all virtue is consulta∣tion and deliberation, the end and perfection, constancy. If we would resolve on any cer∣tain course upon mature advice, we should pitch upon the best, but no body has thought on't.

* 1.5Quod petiit, spernit, repetit quod nuper omisit, Aestuat, & vitae disconvenit ordine toto.

He now despises, what he late did crave, And what he last neglected, now would have: He fluctuates, and flies from that to this, And his whole life a Contradiction is.

Our ordinary practice is, to follow the incli∣nations of our appetite, be it to the left or right, upwards or downwards, according as we are wafted by the breath of occasion. We never meditate what we would have, till the instant we have a mind to have it; and change like that little Creature, that receives its colour from what it is laid upon. What we but just now propose to our selves, we immediately alter, and presently return again to the first; 'tis nothing but shifting, and inconstancy:

* 1.6Ducimur ut nervis alienis mobile lignum.

Like Tops with leathern Thongs we're scourg'd about.

We do not go, we are driven; like things that float, now leisurely, then with violence, according to the gentleness, or rapidity of the Current.

—nonne videmus,* 1.7 Quid sibi quisque velit nescire, & quaerere semper, Commutare locum quasi onus deponere possit?

See we not, up and down men daily trot For something they would have, but know not what: Shifting from place to place, as here or there, They could set down the burden of their care.

Every day a new whimsie, and our humours keep motion with the time.

Tales sunt hominum mentes,* 1.8 quali pater ipse Juppiter auctifero lustravit lumine terras.

Such are the motions of th' inconstant Soul, As are the days, and weather, fair or foul.

We fluctuate betwixt various inclinations; we Will nothing freely, nothing absolutely, no∣thing constantly. In any one, that had pre∣scrib'd and establisht determinate Laws and Rules in his head for his own conduct, we should perceive an equality of manners, an order, and an infallible relation of one thing, or action, to another, shine through his whole life, (Em∣pedocles observ'd this discrepancy in the Agre∣gentines, that they gave themselves up to de∣lights, as if every day was their last, and built, as if they had been to live for ever) and the judgment would not be hard to make. As is

very evident in the person of the younger Ca∣to, who has found one step, it will lead him to all the rest: 'tis a harmony of very according sounds, that cannot jar, nor deceive the ear. But with us 'tis quite contrary, every particu∣lar Action requires a particular Judgment, wherein the surest way to steer, in my opi∣nion, would be to take our measures from the nearest ally'd Circumstances, without enga∣ging in a longer inquisition, or without con∣cluding any other consequence. I was told, du∣ring the civil disorders of our poor Kingdom, that a Maid, hard by the place where I then was, had thrown her self out of a window, to avoid being forc't by a common Soldier, that was quartered in the house: She was not kill'd by the fall, and therefore redoubling her at∣tempt, would have cut her own Throat, had she not been prevented; but having never∣theless wounded her self to some shew of dan∣ger, she voluntarily confest, that the Soldier had not as yet importun'd her otherwise than by Courtship,* 1.9 earnest Solicitation, and such little Presents as he was able to procure; but that she was afraid, that in the end he would have proceeded to violence, all which she de∣livered with such a countenance and accent, and withal embrew'd in her own blood, the highest Testimony of her virtue, that she ap∣pear'd another Lucretia; and yet I have since been very well assur'd, that, both before and after, she was not so difficult a piece. And, according to my Hosts tale in Ariosto, be as

handsom a man, and as fine a Gentleman as you will, do not conclude too much upon your Mistresses inviolable Chastity, for having been repulst; you do not know but she may have a better stomack to your Muletteer.

Antigonus, having taken one of his Soldiers into a great degree of favour and esteem, for his Virtue and Valour, gave his Physicians strict charge to cure him of a long and inward disease under which he had a great while lan∣guisht; and observing that after his Cure, he went much more coldly to work than before, he askt the Fellow, Who had so alter'd, and cow'd him. Your self (Sir) reply'd the o∣ther, by having eas'd me of the pains that made me weary of my life. Lucullus his Sol∣dier, having been rifled by the Enemy, per∣form'd upon them in revenge a brave Exploit, by which having made himself at least a Saver, Lucullus, who had conceived a good opinion of him, from that action, went about to engage him in some enterprize of very great danger, with all the plausible persuasions and promises he could think of,

Verbis quae timido quoque possent addere mentem:* 1.10

Words which the coldest Coward would inspire, And with brisk mettle set his Blood on Fire.

Pray employ, answered he, some miserable plun∣dered Souldier in that affair,

—quantum vis rusticus ibit, * 1.11Ibit eò, quô vis, qui zonam perdidit, inquit.

Some Fool, or poor Knave knapsack't by the foe, On that design may peradventure go.

and flatly refused to go. When we read, that Mahomet having furiously rated Chasan, Bassa of the Janizaries, who seeing the Hun∣garians break into his Squadrons, had behav'd himself very ill in the business, and that Cha∣san in stead of any other answer, rush'd furi∣ously alone with his Cimitar in his hand into the first Body of the Enemy, where he was presently cut to pieces: We are not to look upon that action peradventure, so much de∣signed to vindicate himself from the reproach of Cowardize as an effect of recollection, nor so much proceeding from natural Valour as a sudden Despite. The Man you saw yester∣day so adventurous and brave, you must not think it strange to see him as great a Poltron the next: Anger, Necessity, Company, Wine or the sound of the Trumpet, had rous'd his Spirits; this is no Valour form'd, and Esta∣blished by Meditation; but accidentally created by those circumstances, and therefore it is no wonder, if by contrary circumstances it ap∣quipear te another thing.

These supple variations, and contradictions so manifest in us, have given Some occasion to believe, that Man has two Souls; Others, two distinct Powers, that always accompany and encline us, the one towards Good, and the other towards Ill according to their own Na∣tures, and Propensions▪ so sudden a variety of inclination not being to be imagined to to flow from one and the same Fountain. For my part I must ingeniously declare, that the puff of every accident not only carries me a long with it, according to its own pro∣clivity, but that moreover I discompose, and trouble my self, by the instability of my own posture; and whoever will look narrowly into his own Bosom, will hardly find himself twice in the same Condition. I give my Soul some∣times one face, and sometimes another, ac∣cording to the side I turn her to. If I speak variously of my self, it is, because I consider my self variously. All contrarieties are there to be found, in one corner or another, or after one manner or another. Bashful, Insolent, Chast, Lustful, Prating, Silent, Laborious, Delicate, Ingenious, Heavy, Melancholick, Pleasant, Lying, True, Knowing, Ignorant, Liberal, Covetous, and Prodigal, I find all this in my self, more or less, according as I turn my self about; and whoever will sift himself, to the bottom, will find in himself, even by his own Judgment this volubility and discordance. In a word, I have nothing to say of my self entirely, simply, and solidly

without mixture, and confusion. Distinguo is the most universal Member of my Logick. Though I always intend to speak well of good things, and rather to interpret such things, as may fall out, in the best sence, than other∣wise: Yet such is the strangeness of our con∣dition, that we are sometimes push't on to do well even by Vice it self, if well doing were not judged by the intention only. One gallant Action there∣fore ought not to conclude a man Valiant; if a man was brave indeed, he would be always so, and upon all occasions. If it were a Habit of Ver∣tue, and not a Sally, it would render a man equally resolute in all Accidents; the same Alone, as in Company; the same in Lists, as in a Bat∣tel; for, let them say what they will, there is not one Valour for the Pavement, and another for the Feild. He would bear a Sickness in his Bed, as bravely as a Wound in the Field, and no more fear Death in his own house, than at an assault. We should not then see the same man charge into a Breach with a brave assurance, and afterwards torment himself, and pule like a Woman for the loss of a tryal at Law, or the death of a Child. When being a detected Coward to infamy, he is constant in the ne∣cessities of Poverty and Want; when he starts at the sight of a Barbers Razor, and rushes fearless into the Swords of the Enemy, the Action is commendable, not the Man.

Many of the Greeks, says Cicero, cannot endure the sight of an Enemy,* 1.12 and yet are courageous in Sickness; the Cimbrians, and

Celtiberians quite contrary. Nihil enim potest esse aequabile, quod non à certâ ratione proficisca∣tur. Nothing can be equal, that does not pro∣ceed from a certain ground of reason.* 1.13 No Valour can be more extream in its kind, than that of Alexander: But it is but one kind; nor full enough throughout. As peerless as it is, it has yet some blemishes. Of which, his being so often at his wits end, upon every light suspi∣tion of his Captains conspiring against his life, and the carrying himself in that Inquisition with so much vehemency and injustice, and a fear that subverted his natural reason, is one pregnant instance; the Superstition also, with which he was so much tainted, carries along with it some Image of Pusillanimity. And the excess of his Penitency, for the Murther of Cly∣tus, is also a Testimony of the unevenness of his Courage. All we perform is no other than a Cento, as a man may say, of several peices, and yet we would acquire Honor by a false title. Vertue cannot be followed, but for her self, and if one sometimes borrow her Mask for some other occasion, she presently pulls it away again. 'Tis a stamp and lively tincture, which when the soul has once thorowly imbibed, it will not out, but with the piece. And there∣fore to make a right judgment of a man, we are long, and very observingly, to follow his trace: If constancy does not there stand firm upon her own proper Base, Cui vivendi via considerata, atque provisa est,* 1.14 if the variety of occurrences makes him to alter his pace (his

path I mean, for the pace may be faster or slower) let him go, such a one runs before the wind. 'Tis no wonder, says one of the Anci∣ents, that chance has so great a dominion over us, since it is by chance we live. It is not pos∣sible for any one, who has not design'd his life for some certain end, to dispose his particular actions. It is impossible for any one to fit the peices together, who has not the whole form already contrived in his imagination. To what use are colours to him, or to what end should he provide them, that knows not what he is to paint? No one lays down a certain design for his life, and we only deliberate by pieces. The Archer ought first to know at what he is to aime, and then accommodate his Arm, Bow, String, Shaft, and Motion to it. Our Counsel deviates and wanders, because not levelled to any determinate end. No wind serves him, who addresses his Voyage to no certain Port. I cannot acquiesce in the judgment given by one, in the behalf of Sophocles; who concluded him capable of the management of Domestick af∣fairs, against the accusation of his son, for having seen one of his Tragedies.

Neither doe I allow of the conjecture of the Parians, sent to regulate the Milesians, suffici∣ent for such a consequence, as they from thence derived. Coming to visit the Island, they took notice of such grounds as were best husbanded, and such Country-houses as were best govern∣ed; and having taken the names of the ow∣ners, when they had assembled the Citizens,

they appointed those Farmers for new Gover∣nors, and Magistrates; concluding, that they, who had been so provident in their own pri∣vate concerns, would be so of the publick too. We are all inform lumps, and of so various a contexture, that every piece plays every mo∣ment its own game, and there is as much diffe∣rence betwixt us and our selves, as betwixt us and others. Magnam rem puta,* 1.15 unum homi∣nem agere. Since ambition can teach men Va∣lour, Temperance, and Liberality, and even Justice too; seeing that Avarice can inspire the courage of a Shop-boy, bred and nurst up in obcurity and ease, with the assurance to expose himself so far from the Fire-side, to the mercy of the Waves in a frail Boat, that she does farther teach Discretion and Prudence: And that even Venus can inflate Boys under the discipline of the Rod with boldness, and re∣solution, and infuse masculine courage into the Heart of tender Virgins in their Mothers arms:

Hac duce custodes furtim transgressa jacentes* 1.16 Ad juvenem tenebris sola puella venit.

The tender Virgin, dreadless of all harms, Steals in the dark to her young Lovers arms.

'Tis not all the understanding has to doe, sim∣ply to judge us by our outward Actions, it must penetrate the very Soul, and there discover by what springs the motion is guided: But that

being a high and hazardous undertaking, I could wish that fewer would attempt it.

CHAP. II. Of Drunkenness.

THe World is nothing but Variety, and Disproportion, Vices are all alike, as they are Vices, and peradventure the Stoicks understand them so, but although they are e∣qually Vices, yet they are not equal Vices: And that he who has transgrest the ordinary bounds a hundred paces, should not be in a worse con∣dition, than he that has advanced but ten, is not to be beleived; or that Sacrilege is not worse than stealing a Cabbadge,

* 1.17Nec vincet ratio, tantumdem ut peccet idémque, Qui teneros caules alieni fregerit horti, Et qui nocturnus divûm sacra legerit.

Nor seemes it reason, he as much should Sin, Steals but a Cabbadge Plant, as he who, in The dead of night, a Temple breaks, and brings Away from thence the Consecrated things.

There is in this as great diversity, as in any thing whatever: The confounding of the or∣der and measure of Sins is dangerous: Mur∣therers, Traytors, and Tyrants are therein so very deep concerned, that it is not reasonable

they should flatter their Consciences, because such another is Idle, Lascivious, or less assidu∣ous at his Devotion: Every one lays weight upon the Sin of his Companions, but lightens his own. Our very Instructors themselves ranck them sometimes, in my opinion, very ill. As Socrates, who said, that the principal office of Wisdom was, to distinguish Goods and Evils. We, whose best faculties are always vitious, ought also to say of Knowledge, that it is to distinguish betwixt Vice and Vice, with∣out which, and that very exactly performed, Vertuous and Wicked will remain confounded and unknown. Now, amongst the rest, Drunk∣enness seemes, to me, to be a gross and brutish Vice. The Soul has the greatest interest in all the rest, and there are some Vices, that have something, if a man may so say, of generous in them. There are Vices, wherein there is a mixture of Knowledge, Diligence, Valour, Pru∣dence, Dexterity, and Cunning:* 1.18 This is to∣tally Corporeal and Earthly, and the thickest sculled Nation this day in Europe, is that, where it is the most in fashion. Other Vices discompose the understanding, this totally overthrows it, and renders the body stupid.

—cùm vini vis penetravit,* 1.19 Consequitur gravitas membrorum, praepediuntur Crura vacillanti, tardescit lingua, madet mens, Nant oculi, clamor, singultus, jurgia gliscunt:

When fumes of Wine doe once the Brain pos∣sess, Then follows straight an indisposedness Throughout, the Legs so fetter'd in that case They cannot with the reeling trunck keep pace. The Tongue trips, Mind droops, Eyes stand full of Water, Noise, Hiccups, Brawles, and Quarrels fol∣low after.

The worst estate of man is that, wherein he loses the knowledge and government of him∣self. And 'tis said, amongst other things, upon that subject, that, as the Must, fermenting in a Vessel, works up to the top whatever it has in the bottom: So the old Wine, in those who have drank beyond their measure, vents the most inward Secrets,

—tu sapientium Curas, & arcanum jocoso Consilium retegis Lyaeo.

Thou in thy Cups, and wild debaucheries, Blabb'st out the secret Counsel of the Wise.

Josephus tells us, that, by giving an Ambassador, the Enemy had sent to him, his full dose of Li∣quor, he worm'd out his secrets. And yet Au∣gustus, commiting the most inward secrets of his affairs to Lucius Piso, who conquered Thrace,

never found him faulty in the least, no more than Tiberius did Cossus, with whom he intrusted his whole Counsels, though we know they were both so given to Drink, that they have often been fain to carry both the one and the other Drunk out of the Senate.

Hesterno inflatum venas de more Lyaeo.* 1.20

Their head being yet full of the day before.

And the design of Killing Caesar was as safely communicated to Cimber, though he would sometimes be Drunk, as to Cassius who Drunk nothing but Water. We see our Germans, when Drunk as the Devil, can know their Poste, re∣member the Word, and perform their Duty.

—nec facilis victoria de madidis,* 1.21 & Blaesis, atque mero titubantibus.

Nor is a Vict'ry easily obtain'd Ore men so Drunk, they scarce can speak or stand

I could not have beleiv'd there had been so pro∣found, senceless, and dead a degree of Drunk∣enness, had I not read in History, that Al∣talus, having, to put a notable affront upon him, invited to Supper the same Pausanias, who upon the very same occasion afterwards killed Philip of Macedon, (a King who by these ex∣cellent Qualities gave sufficient Testimony of

his Education in the house, and company of Epaminondas) he made him Drink to such a pitch, that he could after dispose of his Beauty, as of a Hedg-whore, to the Muletteers and Servants of the basest Office in the house. And I been further told, by a Lady whom I highly Honor and Esteem, that near Bourdeaux, and about Castres where she lives, a Country-woman, a Widow of chast repute, perceiving in her self the first symptoms of Breeding, innocently told her Neighbours, that if she had a Husband she should think her self with child: But the cau∣ses of suspition every day more and more en∣creasing, and at last growing up to a manifest proof; the poor Woman was reduc'd to the necessity of causing it to be Proclaimed at the Prosne of her Parish-Church; that whoever had done that deed, and would frankly confess it, she did not only promise to Forgive, but moreover to Marry him, if he lik'd of the motion. Whereupon a young fellow that ser∣ved in the quality of a Labourer, encouraged by this Proclamation, declared; that he had one Holy-day found her, having taken too much of the Bottle, so fast a sleep in the Chim∣ney, and in so undecent a posture, that he might conveniently come to doe his business without waking her; and they yet live toge∣ther Man and Wife. It is true, that Antiquity has not much decry'd this Vice: The Writings of several Philosophers speak very tenderly of it, and even amongst the Stoicks there are some, who advise to give themselves sometimes the

liberty to Drink to a debauch, to recreate and refresh the Soul.

Hoc quo{que} virtutum quondam certamine magnum* 1.22 Socratem palmam promeruisse ferunt.

And Socrates the Wise they say of yore, Amongst Boon-blades the palm of Drinking bore.

That Censor, and Reprover of others, Cato was reproach'd that he was a Good-fellow.

Narratur & prisci Catonis* 1.23 Saepe mero caluisse virtus.

And of the Elder Cato it is said, He often went with a hot Pate to Bed.

Cyrus that worthy renowned King, amongst his other qualities, by which he pretended to be preferred before his Brother Artaxerxes, urged this excellency, that he could Drink a great deal more than he. And in the best governed Na∣tions, this trial of skill in Drinking is very much in use. I have heard Silvius, an excellent Physitian of Paris, say, that lest the digestive faculties of the Stomach should grow idle,* 1.24 it were not amiss once a month to rouse them by this excess, and to spur them, lest they should grow dull and resty; and one Author tells us, that the Persians used to consult about their most important Affairs, after being well

warmed with Wine. My taste and constituti∣on are greater Enemies to this Vice than I am, for besides that I easily submit my belief to the Authority of antient opinions: I look upon it indeed as a stupid and ungraceful Vice, but less malicious and hurtful than the others, which almost all more directly justle publick Society. And if we cannot please our selves, but it must cost us something, as they hold; I find this Vice costs a mans conscience less than the others, be∣sides that it is of no difficult preparation; nor what we look for hard to be found, a conside∣ration not altogether to be despised. A man well advanc'd both in Dignity and Age, amongst three principal Commodities, that he said re∣mained to him of life, reckoned to me this for one, and where would a man more justly find it,* 1.25 than amongst the natural conveniences? But he did not take it right, for delicacy and the curious choice of Wines, is therein to be avoy∣ded. If you found your pleasure upon Drink∣ing of the best, you condemn your self to the penance of Drinking of the worst. Your taste must be more indifferent and free. So delicate a Palate is not required to make a good Toper. The Germans Drink almost indifferently of all Wines and Liquors with delight, their busi∣ness is to power down, and not to taste; and it's so much the better for them, their pleasure is so much the more constant, and nearer at hand. Now on the other side, not to Drink (after the French fashion) but at meals, and then very moderately too, is to be ingrate to

this bountiful God of Wine. There is more time and constancy required than so. The An∣tients spent whole nights in this exercise, and oft-times added the day following to eke it out, and therefore we are to take greater liber∣ty than so, and stick closer to our work. I have seen a great Lord of my time, a man of high enterprise and famous success, that without set∣ting himself to't, and after his ordinary rate of Drinking at meals, Drank not much less than five quarts of Wine, and at his going away appeared but too wise and discreet, to the detri∣ment of our affairs. The pleasure we design the greatest esteem for the whole course of our lives, ought to have a greater share of our time dedicated to it. We should like Shop-boys and Labourers, refuse no occasion nor omit no oppor∣tunity of Drinking, and always have it in our minds. But methinks we every day abridg and curtail the use of Wine; and the Break-fast Drinking and Collations, I used to see in my Fathers house, when I was a Boy, were more usual and frequent then, than now.

Is it that we pretended to a Reformation? Truly no. But it may be we are more addicted to Venus, than our Fathers were. They are two exercises that thwart and hinder one another in their vigour. Letchery has weakned our Sto∣mach on the one side, and on the other Sobrie∣ty renders us more spruce and amorous for the exercise of Love. 'Tis not to be imagined what strange Stories I have heard my Father tell, of the Chastity of that Age wherein he lived. It

was for him to say it, being both by Art and Nature cut out,* 1.26 and finish'd for the service of Ladies. He spoke well, and little; ever mix∣ing his Language with some Illustration out of vulgar Authors, especially Spanish, and, amongst them, Ma••cus Aurelius was very frequent in his mouth. His behaviour was grave, humble, and modest; He was very solicitous of neatness and decency both in his Person and Cloaths, whe∣ther on Horseback, or a Foot: He was exceed∣ing punctual of his Word; and of a Conscience, and Religion generally tending rather towards Superstition than otherwise. For a Man of lit∣tle Stature, very Strong, well Proportion'd, and well Knit, of a pleasing Countenance en∣clining to Brown, and very Adroit in all no∣ble Exercises. I have yet in the House to be seen Canes powr'd full of Lead, with which, they say, he exercis'd his Arms, for throwing the Bar, or the Stone; and Shoes with Leaden Soals, to make him after lighter for Running, or Leaping. Of his Vaulting he has left little Miracles behind him: I have seen him, when past three-score, laugh at our Exercises, and throw himself in his Furr'd Gown into the Sad∣dle, make the Tour of a Table upon his Thumbs, and scarce ever mount the Stairs in∣to his Chamber without taking three or four steps at a time. But upon what I was speaking before, he said, there was scarce one Woman of Quality of ill Fame in a whole Province. Would tell of strange Privacies, and some of them his own, with Vertuous Women, with∣out

any manner of suspition:* 1.27 And for his own part, solemnly swore he was a Virgin at his Marriage; and yet it was after a long practice of Arms beyond the Mountains; of which War he has left us a Paper-Journal under his own hand, wherein he has given a precise account from point to point of all passages both relat∣ing to the Publick, and to Himself. And was al∣so Married at a well advanc't Maturity in the year 1528, the three and thirtieth year of his Age, upon his way home from Italy. But let us turn to our Battel.

The incommodities of old Age, that stand in need of some refreshment and support, might with reason beget in me a desire of this faculty, it being as were the last pleasure the course of years deprives us of. The natural heat, (say the Good-fellows,) first seats itself in the Feet, that concerns Infancy, thence it mounts into the middle Region, where it makes a long aboad, and produces in my opinion the sole true pleasure of humane life; all other pleasures, in comparison, sleep. Toward the end, like a vapour that still mounts upward, it arrives at the Throat, where it makes its final residence, and concludes the progress. I cannot neverthe∣less understand, how a man can extend the pleasure of drinking beyond Thirst, and to forge in his imagination an Appetite artificial, and against Nature. My Stomach would not proceed so far, it has enough to do to deal with what it takes in for necessity. My con∣stitution, is, not to care to Drink, but as it

follows Eating, and to wash down my Meat, and for that reason my last Draught is always the greatest: And seeing that in old Age we have our Palats furr'd with Phlegmes, or deprav'd by some other ill constitution, the Wine tasts better to us, as the Pores are clean∣er wash't, and laid more open. At least I sel∣dome tast the first Glass well. Anacharsis won∣der'd, that the Greeks drunk in greater Glasses towards the end of a meale, than at the begin∣ning; which was I suppose for the same reason, the Dutch do the same, who then begin the Battel. Plato forbids Children Wine, till eigh∣teen years of Age, and being drunk, till forty; but after forty gives them leave to please them∣selves, and to mix a little liberally, in their Feasts, the influence of Dionysius,* 1.28 that good Deity who restores young men their good humour, and old men their youth, who mollifies the pas∣sions of the Soul, as Iron is softned by Fire; and in his Laws allows such merry meetings, (provided they have a discreet Cheif to go∣vern, and keep them in order) for good and of great utility: Drunkenness being a true and cer∣tain tryal of every ones Nature, and withal fit to inspire old Men with Mettle to divert themselves in Dancing, and Musick; things of great use, and that they dare not attempt when sober. He moreover says, that Wine is able to supply the Soul with Temperance, and the Body with Health; nevertheless these Re∣strictions, in part borrowed from the Carthagi∣nians, please him: That they forbear excesses in

the Expeditions of War; that every Judge and Magistrate abstain from it, when about the Ad∣ministrations of his place, or the Consultations of the Publick affairs: That the day is not to be embeazled with it, that being a time due to other employments, nor that night he intends to get Children. 'Tis said, that the Philosopher Stilpo, when opprest with Age, purposely hast∣ned his End by drinking pure Wine. The same thing, but not design'd by him, dispatcht also the Philosopher Arcesilaus. But 'tis an old, and pleasant Question, Whether the Soul of a wise Man can be overcome by the strength of Wine,

Si munitae adhibet vim sapientiae.* 1.29

If it a Head, with its besotting fume, With Wisdom fortified t'assault presume.

To what vanity does the good opinion we have of our selves push us? The most regular and most perfect Soul in the World has but too much to doe to keep it self upright, from being overthrown by its own weakness. There is not one of a thousand that is right, and setled so much as one Minute in a whole Life, and that may not very well doubt, whether according to her Natural condition she can ever be. But to join Constancy to it, is her utmost Perfection; I mean though nothing should justle and dis∣compose her, which a thousand Accidents may do. 'Tis to much purpose, that the great Poet

Lucretius, keeps such a clutter with his Philo∣sophy, when behold he is ruin'd with a Phil∣tre, one poor draught of Love. Is it to be imagin'd, that an Apoplexy will not make an Ass of Socrates, as well as of a Porter. Some have forgot their own names by the violence of a Disease, and a slight Wound has turn'd the Judgment of others topsey-turvey. Let him be as wise as he will, but in fine he is a Man; and than that, what is there more miserable, or more nothing? Wisdom does not force our natural dispositions.

Sudores itaque & pallorem existere toto * 1.30Corpore, & infringi linguam, vocemque aboriri, Caligare oculos, sonere aures, succidere artus, Denique considere ex animi terrore videmus.

Paleness, and Sweat the Countenance con∣founds, The Tongue's deliver'd of Abortive Sounds, The Eyes grow dim, Ears deaf, the Knees grow lame, And do refuse to prop the trembling Frame, And lastly out of fear of mind we all Things see into a Dissolution fall.

He must shut his Eyes against the blow that threatens him; he must tremble upon the Margent of a precipice like a Child: Nature ha∣ving reserv'd these light works of her Authority, not to be forc't by our Reason and Stoical

vertue, to teach Man his Mortality, and little power. He turns pale with fear, red with shame, and groans with the Cholick, if not very loud, at least so as to confess his frailty.

Humani à se nihil alienum putet.* 1.31

To any other man what may befall, Let him not think strange to himself at all.

The Poets, that feign all things at pleasure, dare not acquit their greatest Hero's of Tears.

Sic fatur lacrimans, classique immittit habenas.* 1.32

Thus did he weeping say, and then his Fleet Did to the mercy of the Sea commit.

'Tis sufficient for a man to curb and mode∣rate his inclinations, for totally to suppress them is not in him to do. Even our great Plutarch, that excellent and perfect Judge of Humane Actions, when he sees Brutus and Torquatus Murther their own Children, begins to doubt, whether Vertue could proceed so far; and to question, whether these persons had not rather been stimulated by some other Passion. All Actions exceeding the ordinary bounds are lia∣ble to Sinister interpretation: For as much as our liking does no more proceed from what is above, than from what is below it.

Let us leave this other Sect and make a down∣right profession of fierceness. But when even

in that Sect, reputed the most quiet and gentle we hear these Rhodomontades of Metrodorus: Occupavi te, Fortuna, atque cepi: Omnesque aditus tuos interclusi, ut ad me aspirare non posses. For∣tune,* 1.33 thou art mine, I have thee fast, and have made all the Avenues so sure thou canst not come at me. When Anaxarchus, by the com∣mand of Nicocreon the Tyrant of Cyprus, was put into a Stone-Morter, and laid upon with Mauls of Iron, ceases not to say, Strike, Bat∣ter, Break, 'tis not Anaxarchus, 'tis but his Sheath that you pound and bray so. When we hear our Martyrs cry out to the Tyrant in the middle of the Flame, this side is Roasted enough, fall to, and eate, it is enough, fall to work with the other. When we hear the Child in Josephus, torn piece-meal with biting Pincers, defying Antiochus, and crying out with a con∣stant and assured Voice, Tyrant, thou losest thy labour, I am still at ease, where is the the Pain, where are the Torments with which thou didst so threaten me? Is this all thou canst doe? My Constancy torments thee more, than thy Cruelty does me: O Pitiful Coward, thou Faintest, and I grow Stronger, make my Com∣plain, make me Bend, make me Yield if thou canst; Encourage they Guards, Chear up thy Executioners, see, see they Faint, and can do no more; Arm them, Flesh them anew, Spur them up. Really a man must confess, that there is some alteration and fury, how Holy soever, that does at that time possess those Souls. When we come to these Stoical Sallies: I had

rather be Furious than Voluptuous, a saying of Antisthenes; When Sextius tells us, he had ra∣ther be Fetter'd with Affliction, than Pleasure: When Epicurus takes upon him to play with his Gout, and that refusing Health and Ease, he defies all Torments, and despising the Lesser Pains, as disdaining to contend with them, he covets and calls out for Sharper, more violent, and more worthy of him:

Spumantemque dari pecora inter inertia votis Optat aprum,* 1.34 aut fulvum descendere monte leonem.

And for ignobler Chaces wishes some Lyon or Boar, would from the Mountain come.

Who but must conclude, that they are pusht on by a Courage, that has broke loose from its place? Our Soul cannot from her own Seat reach so high, 'tis necessary she must leave it, raise her self up, and taking the Bridle in her Teeth, transport her man so far, that he shall after himself be astonisht at what he has done. As in occasion of War, the Heat of Battle sometimes pushes the generous Souldiers to per∣form things of so infinite Danger, as after having recollected themselves, they themselves are the first to wonder at. As also fares with the Poets, who are often rapt with admiration of their own Writings, and know not where again to find the track, through which they

performed so happy a Carreer; which also is in them call'd Rage, and Rapture: And as Plato says, tis to purpose for a Sober man to knock at the door of Poesy: And Aristotle says to the same effect, that no excellent Soul is exempt from the mixture of Folly; and he has reason to call all Transports, how commendable soever, that surpass our own Judgment and understanding, Folly,: For as much as Wisdom is a regular Government of the Soul, which is carryed on with Measure and Proportion, and which she is to her self responsible for. Plato argues thus, that the Faculty of Prophecying is so far above us, that we must be out of our selves, when we meddle with it, and our Prudence must either be obstructed by Sleep or Sickness, or lifted from her place by some Celestial Rapture.

CHAP. III. The Custom of the Isle of Cea.

* 1.35IF to Philosophize, be, as 'tis defin'd, to doubt, much more to write at randome, and play the Fool, as I do, ought to be reputed doubt∣ing, for it is for Novices and Fresh-men to in∣quire and to dispute, and for the Chair-man to moderate and determine. My Moderator is the Authority of the Divine Will, that Governs us without contradiction, and that is Seated a∣bove these vain, and humane contests. Phi∣lip

being forceably intred into Peloponnesus, and some one saying to Damidas, that the La∣cedaemonians were likely very much to suffer, if they did not in time reconcile themselves to his favour: Why you pitiful Fellow, replied he, what can they suffer, that do not fear to dye? It being also demanded of Agis, which way a man might live free? Why, said he, by despising Death. These, and a thousand other sayings to the same purpose, do distinctly sound some∣thing more than the Patient attending the stroke of Death, when it shall come; for there are several Accidents in Life, far worse to suf∣fer than Death it self: Witness the Lacedaemonian Boy, taken by Antigonus, and sold for a Slave, who being by his new Master commanded to some base Imployment, Thou shalt see, says the Boy, whom thou hast bought,* 1.36 it would be a shame for me to serve, being so near the reach of Li∣berty, and having so said, threw himself from the top of the house. Antipater severely threatning the Lacedaemonians, that he might the better encline them to acquiesce in a certain de∣mand of his; If thou threatnest us with more than Death, replied they, we shall the more wil∣lingly Dye: And to Philip having writ them word, that he would frustrate all their Enter∣prizes, What, wilt thou also hinder us from dying? This is the meaning of the Sentence, That the Wise man lives as long as he ought, not so long as he can; and that the most obliging Present Nature has made us, and which takes from us all colour of complaint of our condition, is,

to have delivered into our own custody the Keys of Life. She has only Ordered one door into life, but a hundred thousand ways out. We may be straightned for Earth to Live upon, but Earth sufficient to Dye upon can never be wanting, as Boiocatus answered the Romans: why doest thou complain of this World? It deteins the not; thy own cowardize is the cause if thou livest in Pain: There remains no more to Dye but to be willing to do it.

* 1.37Vbique mors est. Optimè hoc cavit Deus, Eripere Vitam nemo non homini potest: At nemo Mortem: Mille ad hanc aditus patent.

To Death a man can never want a Gate, Heav'n has provided very well for that, There's not so mean a Wretch on earth, but may Take the most Noble Hero's life away; But to the willing none can Death refuse, There are to that a thousand Avenues.

* 1.38Neither is it a Recipe for one Disease, Death is the Infallible Cure of all, 'tis a most assured Port, that is never to be fear'd, and very often to be sought: It comes all to one, whether a man gives himself his end, or stays to receive it by some other means; whether he pays be∣fore his day, or stay till his day of payment come: From whencesoever it comes, it is still his: In what part soever the thread breaks, there's the end of the Clue, the most volun∣tary

Death, is the most brave. Life depends upon the Pleasure and Discretion of others, Death upon our own. We ought not to accommodate our selves to our own Humour in any thing so much as in that. Reputation is not concern'd in such an enterprize; and it's a folly to be diverted by any such ap∣prehension, living is Slavery, if the liberty of dying be away. The ordinary method of Cures is carried on at the expence of Life, they tor∣ment us with Causticks, Incisions, and Ampu∣tations of limbs, at the same time interdicting Aliments, and exhausting our Blood; one step father, and we are cur'd indeed. Why are not the Jugular Veines as much at our dispose, as the Cephalick, Basilick, or Median Veine? For a desperate disease, a desperate cure. Servius the Grammarian, being tormented with the Gout, could advise of no better remedy, than to apply Poison to his Legs, to deprive them of their sence, then let them be Gouty on Gods name, so they were insensible of pain. God gives us leave enough, when he is pleased to reduce us to such a condition, that to live is far worse than to die. 'Tis weakness to truckle under infirmities, but it's madnes to nourish them. The Stoicks say, that it is living ac∣cording to Nature in a Wise man to take his leave of Life, even in the height of prosperity, if he do it opportunely, and in a Fool to prolong it, though he be miserable, provided he be in∣digent of those things, which are reputed the necessaries of human life. As I do not offend

the Law, provided against Thieves, when I embezel my own Money, and cut my own Purse; nor that against Incendiaries, when I burn my own Wood; so am I not under the lash of those made against Murtherers, for ha∣ving depriv'd my self of my own life. He∣gesius said, that as the condition of life did, so the condition of death ought to depend upon our own choice: And Diogenes meeting the Philosopher Speucippus, so blown up with an inveterate Dropsie, that he was fain to be car∣ried in a Litter, and by him saluted with the complement, of, I wish you good health; no health to thee, reply'd the other, who art con∣tent to live in such a condition. And in truth, not long after Speucippus, weary of so languish∣ing an estate of Life, found a means to dye. But this does not pass without admitting a dispute: For many are of Opinion, that we cannot quit this Garrison of the World, with∣out the express command of him, who has plac'd us in it; and that it appertains to God, who has plac'd us here, not for ourselves only, but for his Glory, and the service of others, to dismiss us when it shall best please him, and not for us to depart without his Licence: That we are not born for ourselves only, but for our Country also, the Laws of which require an account from us, upon the score of their own interest, and have an action of Man-slaughter good against us. Or if these fail to take cogni∣zance of the Fact, we are punish'd in the other World, as deserters of our Duty.

Proxima deinde tenent maesti Loca,* 1.39 qui sibi lethum Insontes peperere manu, lucémque perosi Proiecere animas.

Next these, those Melancholick Souls remain, Who innocent by their own hands were slain, And hating light, to voluntary Death Ecclipst their eye-balls, and bequeath'd their breath.

There is more Constancy in suffering the Chain we are tied in, than in breaking it, and more pregnant evidence of fortitude in Regulus, than in Cato. 'Tis Indiscretion and Impatience that pushes us on to these precipices. No ac∣cidents can make true Vertue turn her back, she seeks and requires Evils, Pains and Grief, as the things by which she is nourish'd and supported. The menaces of Tyrants, Wracks, and Tortures serve only to animate and rouse her.

Duris ut ilex tonsa bipennibus* 1.40 Nigrae feraci frondis in Algido Per damna, per caedes, ab ipso Ducit opes, animumque ferro.

As in Mount Algidus the sturdy Oak, Ev'n from th' injurious Axes wounding stroak, Derives new vigour, and does further spread By amputations a more graceful head.

And as another says.

* 1.41Non est ut putas virtus, Pater, Timere vitam, sed malis ingentibus Obstare, nec se vertere ac retro dare.

They are mistaken, and do judge amiss, Who think to fear to live, a Vertue is; He's brave, the greatest evils can withstand, And not retire, nor shift to either hand.

Or as this.

* 1.42Rebus in adversis facile est contemnere mortem. Fortius ille facit, qui miser esse potest.

The wretched well may laugh at death; but he Is braver far can live in misery.

'Tis Cowardize not Vertue, to lye squat in furrow under a Tomb to evade the blows of Fortune. Vertue never stops, nor goes out of her path for the greatest storm that blows:

* 1.43Si fractus illabatur orbis, Impavidam ferient ruinae.

Should the World's Axis crack, and Sphear fall down, The ruins would but crush a fearless Crown.

And for the most part, the flying of other inconveniences brings us to this, that, endea∣vouring to evade death, we run into the mouth of it.

Hic, rogo, non furor est, ne moriare, mori?* 1.44

Can there be greater madness, pray reply, Than that one should for fear of dying, die?

Like those who for fear of a precipice, throw themselves headlong into it.

—Multos in summa pericula misit* 1.45 Venturi timor ipse mali: Fortissimus ille est, Qui promptus metuenda pati, si cominus instent, Et differre potest.

The fear of future ills oft makes men run Into far worse, than those they strive to shun; But he deserves the noblest Character, Dare boldly stand the mischeifs he does fear, When they confront him, and appear in view, And can defer at least if not eschew.

—usque adeo mortis formidine,* 1.46 vitae Percipit humanos odium, lucisque videndae Vt sibi consciscant maerenti pectore lethum, Obliti fontem curarum hunc esse timorem.

Death unto that degree does some men fright, That causing them to hate both life and light, They kill themselves in sorrow, not aware, That this same fear's the fountaine of that care.

* 1.47Plato in his laws assigns an ignominious se∣pulture to him who has depriv'd his nearest and best freind (namely himself) of life, and his destin'd course of years, being neither compel∣l'd so to do by publick judgment, by any sad and inevitable accident of fortune, nor by any insupportable disgrace, but merely pusht on by cowardize, and the imbecillity of a timorous soul. And the opinion, that makes so little of life, is ridiculous; for it is our being; 'tis all we have. Things of a nobler, and more ele∣vated being, may indeed accuse this of ours; but it is against nature, for us to contemn, and make little account of our selves; 'tis a disease particu∣lar to man, and not discern'd in any other crea∣tures, to hate and despise itself. And it is a vanity of the same stamp, to desire be some∣thing else, than what we are. The effects o•• such a desire do not at all concern us, for as much as it is contradicted, and hindred in it self and he that desires of a man to be made an An••gel, wishes nothing for himself; he would b•• never the better for it; for being no more, wh•••• should rejoice, or be sensible of this benefit fo•• him?

Debet enim miserè cui fortè aegréque futurum est,* 1.48 Ipse quoque esse in eo tum tempore, cùm male possit Accidere.

For it is necessary sure that he, Who for the future wretched is to be, Should then be by himself inhabited, That the events of Fate been frustrated; But that the ills, he threatned is withall, Should rightly in their due appointment fall.

Security, indolency, impassibility, and the privation of the evils of life, which we pretend to purchase at the price of dying, are of no manner of advantage to us. That man evades war to very little purpose, that can have no fruition of peace; and as impertinently does he avoid labour and toile, who cannot enjoy re∣pose. Amongst those of the first of these two opinions, there has been great debate, what oc∣casions are sufficient to justifie the meditation of self-murther, which they call, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, a handsome Exit. For though they say, that men are often to dye for trivial causes, seeing those that deteine us in life are of no very great weight, yet there is to be some measure. There are fantastick and sencelesse humors, that have prompted not only particular men, but whole Nations to destroy themselves, of which I have elsewhere given some examples; and we fur∣ther read of the Milesian virgins, that, by a fu∣rious compact, they hang'd themselves, one after

another, till the Magistrate took order in it, enacting, that the bodies of such as should be found so hang'd, should be drawn by the same halter starke naked through the City. When Threicion persuaded Cleomenes to dispatch himself by reason of the ill posture of his affairs, and having evaded a death of the most honor in the battail he had lost, to accept of this the second in honor to it, and not to give the Conquerors leisure to make him undergo either an ignomi∣nious death, or an infamous life: Cleomenes with a courage truly Stoick, and Lacedaemonian rejected his Counsel as unmanly and poor; that, said he, is a remedy that can never be wanting, and which a man is never to make use of, whilst there is an inch of hope remaining: telling him, that it was some∣times constancy and valour to live, that he would that even his death should be of use to his Country, and would make of it an act of honor and vertue. Threicion notwithstanding thought himself in the right, and did his own business; and Cleome∣nes after did the same; but not till he had first tried the utmost malevolence of fortune. All the inconvenences in the world are not conside∣rable enough that a man should die to evade them, and besides, there being so many, so sud∣dain, and unexpected changes in humane things, it is hard, rightly to judg when we are at the end of our hope.

Sperat & in saeva victus gladiator arena, * 1.49Sit licet infesto pollice turba minax.

The fencer conquer'd in the lists hopes on, Though the Spectators point that he is gon.

All things (says the old Adage) are to be hop'd for by a man whilst he lives: ay but replies Seneca, why should this rather be always run∣ning in a mans head, that Fortune can do all things for the living man, than this, that For∣tune has no power over him that knows how to dye?* 1.50 Josephus when engag'd in so near and apparent danger, a whole People being violently bent against him, that there was no visible means of escape, neverthelesse, being, as him∣self says, in this extreamity counsell'd by Simon one of his faithful Guards to dispatch himself, it was well for him, that he yet maintain'd him∣self in some hope, for fortune diverted the acci∣dent beyond all humane expectation; so that he saw himself deliver'd without any manner of inconvenience. Whereas Brutus and Cassius, on the contrary, threw away the remains of the Roman liberty, of which they were the sole Pro∣tectors, by the precipitation and temerity where∣with they kill'd themselves before the due time, and a just occasion. Monsieur d' Anguien,* 1.51 at the Battel of Cerisolles, twice attempted to run himself through, despairing of the fortune of the day, which went indeed very untowardly on that side of the Feild where he was engag'd, and by that precipitation was very near depri∣ving himself of the joy and honor of so brave a Victory. I have seen a hundred Hares escape

out of the very teeth of the Grey-hounds▪

Aliquis carnifici suo superstes fuit.* 1.52

Some have surviv'd their Executioners.

Multa dies, variúsque labor mutabilis aevi Rettulit in melius, multos alterna revisens * 1.53Lusit, & in solido rursus fortuna locavit.

Much time and labour often does translate Life's mutability t'a better state, Now fortune turning shews a reverse face, And then again in solid joy does place.

Pliny says, there are three sorts of diseases, to escape any of which a man has good title to de∣stroy himself; the worst of which is the stone in the bladder, when the urine is supprest. Se∣neca says, those only, which for a long time dis∣compose the functions of the Soul; And some there have been, who to avoid a worse, have chosen one to their own liking. Democritus, Ge∣neral of the Aetolians, being brought prisoner to Rome, found means to make his escape by night▪ but close pursu'd by his keepers, rather than suffer himself to be retaken, he fell upon his own sword, and died. Antinous and Theodotus their City of Epirus being reduct by the Romans to the last extremity, gave the People counsel generally to kill themselves; but the advice of giving themselves up to the armes of the Enemy prevayling, they went to seek the death they desir'd, rushing furiously upon the Enemy, with an intention to strike home, but not to defend a

blow. The Isle Gosa forc't some years ago by the Turks, a Sicilian, who had two beautiful daughters marriagable, kill'd them both with his own hand, and their mother running in to save them, to boot. Which having done, sallying out of the House with a cros-bow, and a harque∣buze, with those two shoots he kill'd two of the first Turks nearest to his door, and drawing his sword charg'd furiously in amongst the rest, where he was suddainly enclos'd, and cut to peices. By that means delivering his family, and himself from slavery, and dishonor. The Jewish women after having circumciz'd their Children, threw themselves down a Precipice to avoid the cruelty of Antigonus. I have been told of a prisoner of condition in one of our prisons, that his friends being inform'd he would certainly be condemn'd, to avoid the ignominy of such a death, suborn'd a Preist to tell him, that the only means of his deliverance was, to recom∣mend himself to such a Saint, under such and such vowes, and fast eight days togeather, with∣out taking any manner of nourishment what ever, what weakeness or faintness so ever he might find in himself during the time, he fol∣low'd their advice, and by that means destroid himself before he was aware, not dreaming of death, or any danger in the Experiment. Scri∣bonia advising her Nephew Libo to kill himself, rather than to attend the stroke of Justice, told him, that it was properly to do others Peoples business to preserve his life, to put it after into the hands of those who within three or four

days would come fetch him to execution; and that it was to serve his Enemies to keep hi•• blood to gratifie their malice. We read in the Bible that Nicanor the persecutor of the Law of God,* 1.54 having sent his Souldiers to seize upon the good old man Razis, sirnam'd in honor of his ver∣tue the Father of the Jews: the good man seeing no other remedy, his Gates burnt down, and the Enemies ready to seize him, choosing rather to dye generously, than to fall into the hands of his wicked adversaries, and suffer him∣self to be cruelly butcher'd by them, contrary to the honor of his ranck and quality, he stabb'd himself with his own sword, but the blow for hast not having been given home, he ran and threw himself from the top of a wall headlong among them, who separating themselves, and making room, he pitcht directly upon his head. Notwithstanding which, feeling yet in himself some remains of life, he renu'd his courage, and starting up upon his feet all bloody, and wounded as he was, and making his way through the Crowd, through one of his wounds drew out his bowells, which tearing and pulling to pieces with both his hands, he threw amongst his pur∣suers, all the while attesting, and invoking the Divine vengeance upon them, for their cruelty and injustice.

Of violences offer'd to the conscience, that against the chastity of woman, is, in my opinion, most to be evaded, for as much as there is a certain pleasure naturally mixt with it, and for that reason the dissent cannot therein be suffi∣ciently

perfect and entire, so that the violence seems to bee mix't with a little consent of the forc't party. The Ecclesiastical History has se∣veral examples of devout persons, who have em∣brac't death to secure them from the outrages prepar'd by Tyrants against their Religion and honor. Pelagia and Sophronia both Canoniz'd, the first of these precipitated herself with her mother and sisters into the river to avoid being forc't by some Souldiers, and the last also kill'd herself to evade being ravish't by the Emperor Maxentius. It may peradventure be an honor to us in future Ages, that a learned Author of this present time, and a Parisian, takes a great deal of pains to persuade the Ladies of our age, rather to take any other course, than to enter into the horrid meditation of such a despaire. I am sorry he had never heard (that he might have inserted it amongst his others stories) the saying of a woman, which was told me at Tho∣louze, who had past thorough the handling of some Souldiers. God be prais'd, said she, that once at least in my life I have had my fill, without sin. I must confess these cruelties are very unworthy the French sweetness, and good nature, and also God be thanked, the air is very well purg'd of it, since this good advice: 'tis enough that they say no in doing it, according to the Rule of the good Marot.

History is every where full of such, as after a thousand ways have for death exchanged a painful and irksome Life. Lucius Arruntius kill'd himself, to fly, he said, both the future

and the past. Granius Silvanus and Statius Proxi∣mus, after having been pardoned by Nero, kill'•• themselves; either disdaining to live by the favour of so Wicked a man; or that they might not be troubled at some other time to obtain 〈◊〉〈◊〉 second Pardon, considering the proclivity and faculties of his Nature, to suspect and credit accu∣sations against worthy men. Spargapize's the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of Queen Tomyris, being a Prisoner of War 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cyrus, made use of the first favour Cyrus shew'•• him in commanding him to be unbound, to kill himself, having pretended to no other be••nefit of liberty, but only to be reveng'd of himsel•• for the disgrace of being taken. Bogez Gover∣nor in Eion for King Xerxes, being beseige•••• by the Athenian Arms under the conduct 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cimon, refused the conditions offered, that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 might safe return into Asia with all his wealth•• impatient to survive the loss of a place his Maste•• had given him to keep; wherefore having de∣fended the City to the last extremity, nothin•• being left to eat, he first threw all the Gold and what ever else the Enemy could make boot•• of, into the River Strymon, and after causing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 great pile to be set on fire, and the throats 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all the Women, Children, Concubines and Ser••vants to be cut, he threw their Bodies into th•• fire, and at last leapt into it himself. Ninache••tuen an Indian Lord, so soon as he heard th•• first whisper of the Portugal Vice-Roy's determi••nation, to dispossess him, without any appa∣rent cause, of the Command in Malaca, to trans••fer it to the King of Campar, he took this reso••lution

with himself. He caus'd a scaffold more long than broad to be erected, supported by Columns, royally adorn'd with tapestry, and strewd with flowers, and abundance of perfumes. All which being thus prepar'd, in a Robe of cloth of Gold, set full of Jewels of great value, he came out into the street, and mounted the Steps to the Scaffold, at one corner of which he had a pile lighted of Aromatick wood. Every body ran to the novelty, to see to what end these unusual preparations were made. When Ninachetuen with a manly, but discontented, countenance, began to remonstrate how much he had oblig'd the Portuguese Nation, and with how unspotted fidelity he had carried himself in his Charge; that having so often with his sword in his hand manifested in the behalf of others, that honor was much more dear to him than life, he was not to abandon the concern of it for himself: that Fortune denying him all means of opposing the affront was design'd to be put upon him, his courage at least enjoyn'd him to free himself from the sence of it, and not to serve for a fable to the People, nor for a try∣umph to Men less deserving than himself; which having said, he leapt into the Fire. Sextilia the wife of Scaurus, and Praxea the wife of Labeo, to encourage their husbands to evade the dan∣gers that prest upon them, wherein they had no other share, than meer conjugal affection, vo∣luntarily expos'd their own lives to serve them in this extream necessity for company and exam∣ple. What they did for their husbands, Cocceius

Nerva did for his Country, with less utility, though with equal affection. This great Lawyer, flourishing in health, riches, reputation and fa∣vour with the Emperor, had no other cause to kill himself, but the sole compassion of the miserable Estate of the Roman Republick. No∣thing can be added to the nicety of the death of the wife of Fulvius, a familiar favourite of Augustus. Augustus having discover'd, that he had vented an important secret he had intrusted him withal; one morning that he came to make his Court, receiv'd him very coldly, and lookt frowningly upon him. He returns home full of despaire, where he sorrowfully told his wife, that being fall'n into this misfortune, he was re∣solv'd to kill himself: To which she roundly replied, 'tis but reason you should, seeing that having so often experimented the incontinency of my tongue, you could not learn, nor take warning: but let me kill my self first, and with∣out any more dispute ran herself through the Body with a Sword. Vibius Virius despayring of the safty of his City, beseig'd by the Romans, and of their mercy: in the last deliberation of his Cities Senat, after many Remonstrances con∣ducing to that end, concluded, that the most No∣ble means to escape Fortune, was by their own hands: telling them that the Enemy would have them in honor, and Hannibal would be sen∣sible how many faithful friends he had aban∣doned; inviting those who approv'd of his advice, to go take a good supper he had ready at home, where after they had eaten well, they

would drink togeather of what he had prepar'd, a beverage, said he, that will deliver our Bodies from torments, our Souls from injury, and our Eyes and Ears from the sence of so many hateful mischiefs, as the Conquer'd are to suffer from cruel and implacable Conquerours. I have, said he, taken order for fit persons to throw our Bodies into a funeral pile before my door, so soon as we are dead. Enow approv'd this high resolution, few imitated it, seaven and twenty Senators follow'd him, who after having tri'd to drown the thought of this fatal determina∣tion in Wine, ended the feast with the mortal Mess; and embracing one another, after they had jointly deplor'd the misfortune of their Country, some retir'd home to their own hou∣ses, others staid to be burnt with Vibius in his funeral Pyre; and were all of them so long a dying, the vapour of the Wine having prepos∣sest the Veines, and by that means deferring the effect of the Poison, that some of them were within an hour of seeing the Enemy within the walls of Capua, which was taken the next morning, and of undergoing the miseries, they had at so dear a rate endea∣vour'd to evade. Taurea Jubellius another Ci∣tizen of the same Country, the Consul Fulvius returning from the shameful butcherie he had made of two hundred twenty five Senators, call'd him back feircely by his name, and having made him stop, give the word, said he, that some body may dispatch me after the Massacre of so many others, that thou maist boast, to have

kill'd a much more valiant Man than thyself Fulvius disdaining him, as a man out of hi•• wits: as also having received Letters from Rome contrary to the inhumanity of this Execution, which tied his hands; Jubellius proceeded, since that my Country being taken, my freinds dead, and having with my own hands slaine my wife and children to rescue them from desolation of this ruine, I am deni'd to die the death of my fellow-Citizens, let us borrow from vertue the vengeance of this hated life, and therewith∣al drawing a short sword, he carried con∣ceal'd about him, he ran it thorough his own Bosome, falling down backward, and expiring at the Consuls feet. Alexander laying Seige to a City of the Indies, those within finding themselves very hardly set, put on a vigorou•• resolution to deprive him of the pleasure 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his Victory, and accordingly burnt themselve•• in general togeather with their City, in despite of his humanity. A new kind of Warre, where the Enemies sought to save them, and they 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lose themselves, doing, to make themselves sure of death, all that men do to secure their lives. Astapa a City of Spain finding it se•••• weak in walls and defence to withstand the Romans, the Inhabitants made a heap of al•• their riches, and furniture in the publick place and having rang'd upon this heap all the wo••men and children, and pil'd them round wit•• wood, and other combustible matter to take suddain Fire, and left fifty of their young me•• for the Execution of that whereon they ha••••

resolv'd: They made a deperate sally, where for want of power to overcome, they caus'd themselves to be every man slain. The fifty after having Massacred every living Soul throughout the whole City, and put Fire to this Pile, threw themselves lastly into it, fi∣nishing their generous liberty, rather after an insensible, than after a sorrowful and disgrace∣ful manner, giving the Enemy to understand, that if fortune had been so pleas'd, they had as well the courage to snatch from them Vi∣ctory, as they had to frustrate and render it dreadful, and even mortal to those who allu∣red by the splendor of the Gold melting in this flame having approcht it, a great number were there suffocated and burnt, being kept up from retiring by the crow'd that follow'd after. The Abideans, being prest by King Philip, put on the same resolution, but being curbed so short, they could not put it in ef∣fect, the King who abhor'd to see the temera∣rious precipitation of this Execution (the trea∣sure and movables that they had variously con∣demn'd to Fire and water being first seized) drawing off his Souldiers graunted them three days time to kill themselves in, that they might do it with more order, and at greater ease: which space they fill'd with Blood and slaughter, beyond the utmost excess of all hostil cruelty: So that not so much as any one Soul was left alive, that had power to destroy it self. There are infinite examples of like Popular conclusions which seem the more feirce, and cruel, by

how much the effect is more universal, and yet are really less, than when singly executed▪ What arguments and persuasion cannot make upon every individual man, they can do upon all, the ardour of Society ravishing particular judgments. The condemn'd, who would live to be executed, in the Reign of Tiberius, for∣feited their goods, and were denied the rite•• of Sepulture, those who by killing themselves did anticipate it, were enterred, and had liberty to dispose of their Estates by Will.

But men sometimes covet death out of hope of a greater good. I desire (says St. Paul) to be with Christ, and who shall rid me of these bands? Cleombrotus Ambraciota, having read Plato's Phaedo, entred into so great a desire 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the life to come, that without any other occa∣sion, he threw himself into the Sea. By which it appears, how improperly we call this volun∣tary dissolution, despair, to which the eager∣ness of hope does often encline us, and ofte•• a calme and temperate desire proceeding from a mature and considerate judgment. Jacqu•• du Castel Bishop of Soissons, in St. Lewis his fo∣reign expedition, seing the King and whole Army upon the point of returning into France leaving the affairs of Religion imperfect, tool a resolution rather to go into Paradise, where∣fore having taken solemn leave of his freinds he charg'd alone in the sight of every on•• into the Enemies Army, where he was pre∣sently cut to peices. In a certain Kingdom 〈◊〉〈◊〉 the new discover'd World, upon a day of so••lemn

Procession, when the Idol they adore is drawn about in publick upon a Chariot of won∣derful greatness; besides that several are then seen, cutting of cantells of their quick flesh to offer to him, there are a number of others who prostrate themselves upon the place, cau∣sing themselves to be crusht and broke to peices with the weighty wheels to obtain the vene∣ration of Sanctity after their death, which is accordingly pay'd them. The death of the forenamed Bishop with his sword in his hand has more of generosity in it, and less of feel∣ing, the ardour of Combat taking away part of the later. There are some Governments, who have taken upon them to regulate the Justice and opportunity of voluntary death so much, as in former times, there was kept in our City of Marseilles a Poyson prepared out of Hemlock at the publick charge, for those who had a mind to hasten their end, having first before the six hundred, which were their Senat, given account of the reasons and motives of their design, and it was not otherwise Lawful, than by leave from the Magistrate, and upon just occasion to do vio∣lence to themselves. The same Law was also in use in other places. Sextus Pompeius in his Expedition into Asia toucht at the Isle of Cea in Negropont: it accidentally hapned whilst he was there, (as we have it from one that was with him) that a woman of great quality, having given an account to her Citizens why she was resolv'd to put an end to her life,

invited Pompeius to her death, to render it the more honorable: an invitation that he vnwil∣lingly accepted: but having long tried in vai•• by the power of his eloquence (which wa•• very great) and disswasion to divert her fro•• that design, he acquiese't in the end in her ow•• will. She had past the age of fourscore an•• ten in a very happy Estate both of Body an•• mind, but being then laid upon her bed, bette•• drest than ordinary, and leaning upon he•• Elbow, the Gods, said she, O Sextus Pompeiu•• and rather those I leave, than those I go to see•• reward thee, for that thou hast not disdain'd 〈◊〉〈◊〉 be both the Counsellor of my life, and th•• Witness of my death. For my part, havin•• always try'd the smiles of fortune, for 〈◊〉〈◊〉 lest the desire of living too long may ma•••• me see a contrary face, I am going by a ha••••py end to dismiss the remains of my So•••• leaving behind two daughters of my Bo•••• and a Legion of Nephewes: which having 〈◊〉〈◊〉 with some exhortations to her family to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in peace, she divided amongst them her Good and recommending her domestick Gods 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her eldest daughter, she boldly took the Bo•••• that contain'd the Poison, and having ma•••• her vowes and prayers to Mercury, to co••••duct her to some happy abode in the oth•••• World, she roundly swallow'd the mortal P••••tion, which having don, she entertained 〈◊〉〈◊〉 company with the progress of its operati•••• and how the cold by degrees seized the se••••••ral parts of her body one after another, 〈◊〉〈◊〉

having in the end told them it began to seize upon her heart and bowels, she call'd her daughters to do their last Office and close her Eyes. Pliny tells us of a certain Hyperborean Na∣tion, where by reason of the sweet tempera∣ture of the Aire, Lives did rarely end but by the voluntary surrender of the Inhabitants, but that being weary of, and sotted with living, they had a custom at a very old age, after having made good cheer, to precipitate them∣selves into the Sea from the top of a certain rock, destin'd for that service. Paine and the fear of a worse death seem to me the most excusable incitements.

CHAP. IV. To morrow's a new Day.

I Give, and I think with good reason, the Palm to Jacques Amiot of all our French Writers, not only for the propriety and purity of his language, wherein he excells all others, nor for his constancy in going thorough so long a work, nor for the depth of his know∣ledge, having been able so successfully to smooth and unravel so knotty and intricate an Author (for let People tell me what they will, I understand nothing of Greek, but I meet with sence so well united and maintai∣ned throughout his whole Translation, that certainly he either knew the true fancy of the Author, or having, by being long conver∣sant with him, imprinted a lively and general ••∣dea

of that of Plutarch in his Soul,* 1.55 he has de∣livered us nothing, that either derogates from, or contradicts him) but above all, I am the most taken with him, for having made so discreet a choise of a Book so worthy, and of so great utility wherewith to present his Coun∣try. We dunces had been lost, had not this Book raised us out of the dirt, by this favour of his we dare now speak and write, the La∣dies are able to read to Schoolmasters, 'tis our Breviary. If this good Man be yet living, I would recommend to him Xenophon, to do as much by that. 'Tis a much more easy task than the other, and consequently more proper for his age. And besides, I know not how, methinks, though he does briskly, and clear∣ly enough trip over steps another would have stumbled at, that nevertheless his style seemes to be more his own, where he does not encounter those difficulties and rowles away at his own ease. I was just now reading this passage, where Plutarch says of himself, that Rusticus being present at a Declamation of his at Rome, he there receiv'd a Packet from the Emperor, and deferr'd to open it till all was don: for which, says he, all the company highly applauded the gravity of this person. 'Tis true, that being upon the discourse of that curiosity, and that eager passion for news, which makes us with so much indiscretion and impatience, leave all to entertain a new commer and without any manner of respect, or civility teare open on a suddain, in what

company soever, the Letters are delivered to us, he had reason to applaud the gravity of Rusticus upon this occasion, and might moreo∣ver have added to it the commendation of his civility and courtesy, that would not inter∣rupt the current of his Declamation. But I doubt, whether any one can commend his prudence; for receiving unexpected Letters, and especially from an Emperor, it might have fal'n out, that the deferring to read them might have been of great prejudice.* 1.56 The vice opposite to curiosity is negligence, to which I naturally incline, and wherein I have seen some Men so extream, that one might have found the Letters had been sent them three or four days before, still seal'd up in their pockets. I never open any Letters di∣rected to another, not only those entrusted with me, but even such as fortune has guided to my hand; and am very angry with my self, if my Eyes unawares steal any contents of Letters of importance he is reading, when I stand near a great Man. Never was Man less inquisitive, or less prying into other mens affairs, than I. In our Fathers days, Monsieur de Boutieres had like to have lost Turin, for having, being engag'd in good company at supper, deferred to read an Advertisement was sent him of the Treason was plotted against that City, where he commanded. And this very Plutarch has given me to understand, that Julius Caesar had preserved himself, if going to the Senate the day he was assassinated by the

Conspirators, he had read a Ticket was presen∣ted to him by the way. He tells also the Story of Archias the Tyrant of Thebes, that the night before the execution of the design Pelopidas had plotted to kill him, to restore his Country to liberty, he had an account sent him in writing by another Archias an Athenian of the whole conspiracy, and that this packet having been deliver'd to him while he sate at supper, he deferr'd the opening of it, saying, which afterward turn'd to a Pro∣verb in Greece, To morrow is a new day. A wise man may, I confess, out of respect to another, as not to disturb the Company, as Rusticus did, or not to break off another affair of impor∣tance in hand, defer to read, or hear any new thing that is brought him; but for his own interest, or particular pleasure, especially if he be a publick Minister, that he will not interrupt his dinner, or break his sleep, he is inexcusable. And there was anciently at Rome, the Consular place, as they called it, which was the most honorable at the Table, for being a place of most liberty, and of more convenient access to those who came in to take with the person seated there. By which it appears, that for being at meat, they did not totally abandon the concern of other af∣fairs and accidents. But when all is said, it is very hard in human actions, to give so exact a Rule upon the best grounds, that fortune will not have a hand in them, and maintain her own right.

CHAP. V. Of Conscience.

THE Sieur de la Brousse my Brother, and I, travelling one day togeather during the time of our Civil Wars, met a Gentle∣man of good fashion, he was of the contrary party, though I did not know so much, for he pretended otherwise: and the mischief on't is, that in this sort of War, the Cards are so shuffled, an Enemy not being distinguisht from a friend, by any apparent marke either of lan∣guage or habit, nourisht under the same Laws, air and manners, that it is very hard to avoid disorder and confusion. This made me afraid my self of meeting any of our Troops in a Place where I was not known, that I might not be in fear to tell my name, and perad∣venture of somthing worse. As it had befall'n me before, where, by such a mistake, I lost both men and horses, and amongst others an Italian Gentleman my Page, that I bred with the greatest care and affection, miserably slain, in whom a promising youth and of great ex∣pectation was unfortunately extinguisht. But the Gentleman, my Brother and I met, had so strange a fear upon him, at the meeting with any horse, or passing by any of the Towns that held for the King, that I at last disco∣ver'd them to be alarms of Conscience, and the poor man seem'd to be in such a condi∣tion,

as if thorough his visor, and the crosses upon his Cassock, one might have penetrated into his bosome, and read the most secret in∣tentions of his heart. So wonderful is the power of Conscience, that makes us betray, accuse and fight against our selves; and for want of other witnesses, to give evidence a∣gainst our selves.

* 1.57Occultum quatiens animo tortore flagellum.

Conscience the tortu'rer of the Soul, unseen Does feircely brandish a sharp scourge within.

This Story is in every childs mouth, Bessus the Poeonian, being reproch't with ill nature for pulling down a nest of young sparrowes, and killing them, replied, that he had reason so to do, seeing that those little birds never ceast falsly to accuse him of the murther of his Father.* 1.58 This Parricide had till then been conceal'd and unknown, but the revenging furie of Conscience caused it to be discover'd by him himself, who was justly to suffer for it. Hesiod corrects the saying of Plato, That punishment closely follows sin, it being, as he says, born at the same time with it. Whoever ex∣pects punishment, already suffers it, and who∣ever has deserv'd it, expects it. Wickedness contrives torments against it self. Malum con∣silium consultori pessimum. Ill designs are worst to the contriver.* 1.59 As the wasp stings and of∣fends another, but most of all it self; for it

there loses the sting, and the use of it for ever.

—Vitásque in vulnere ponunt.

And do their own lives stake,* 1.60 In the small wound they make.

Cantharides have somewhere about them, by a contrariety of nature, a counterpoison against their poison. In like manner at the same time that men take delight in vice, there springs in the Conscience a displeasure, that afflicts us sleeping and waking with se∣veral tormenting imaginations.

Quippe ubi se multi per somnia soepe loquentes* 1.61 Aut morbo delirantes procreasse ferantur, Et celata diu in medium peccata dedisse.

The guilty hardly their own counsel keep, They either will by talking in their sleep; Or in a feaver raving, will reveale What they long had, and still meant to conceal.

Apollodorus dream't, that he saw himself flea'd by the Scythians, and after boil'd in a Cauldron, and that his heart mutter'd these words, I am the cause of all these mischeifs have befal'n thee. Epicurus said, that no hiding hole could conceal the wicked, since they could never assure themselves of being hid, whilst their conscience discover'd them to themselves.

—Prima est hoec ultio, quòd se * 1.62Judice nemo nocens absoluitur.

—'Tis the first punishment of sin, That no Man does absolve himself within.

As Conscience fills us with fear when ill, so a good one gives us greater confidence and assurance; and I can truly say, that I have gone thorough several hazards with a more steady pace, in consideration of the secret know∣ledg I had of my own will, and the innocency of my intentions.

* 1.63Conscia mens ut cuique sud est, ita concipit intra Pectora pro facto spémque metúmque suo.

As a Man's Conscience is, so hope within, Or fear prevailes, suiting to his design.

Of this are a thousand examples; but it will be enough to instance three of one, and the same person Scipio, being one day accu∣sed before the People of Rome of some Crimes of a very high nature, in stead of excusing himself, or insinuating into the favour of his Judges,* 1.64 It will become you very well (said he) to sit in Judgment upon a head, by whom you have the power to judge all the World. And another time, all the answer he gave to several Impeach∣ments brought against him by a Tribune of the People, in stead of making his defence;

let us go, Citizens, said he, let us go render thanks to the Gods for the Victory they gave over the Carthaginians as this day, and advan∣cing himself before towards the Temple, he had presently all the Assembly and his very Accuser himself following at his heeles. And Pe∣tilius having been set on by Cato to demand an account of the money had past thro' his hands in the Province of Antioch, Scipio being come into the Senate to that purpose, produc't a Book from under his Robe, wherein he told them was an exact account of his receipts and disbursments; but being required to deli∣ver it to the Pronotary to be examined and enrolled, he refused, saying, he would not do himself so great a disgrace; and in the pre∣sence of the whole Senate tore the Book with his own hands to peices. I do not believe that the most fear'd Conscience could have counterfeited so great an assurance. He had naturally too high a spirit, and was accusto∣med to too high a fortune, says Titus Livius, to know how to be criminal, and to dispose himself to the meanness of defending his inno∣cency. This putting men to the Rack is a dangerous invention, and seemes to be rather a tryal of patience than truth. Both he who has the fortitude to endure it, conceals the truth, and he who has not: for why should paine sooner make me to confesse what really is, than force me to say what is not? And on the contrary, if he who is not guilty of that whereof he is accused, has the courage to

undergo those torments, why should not he who is guilty have the same, so fair a reward as life being in his prospect? I think the ground of this invention proceeds from the consideration of the force of Conscience. For to the guilty it seemes to assist the Rack to make him confess his fault, and to shake his resolution, and on the other side, that it for∣tifies the innocent against the torture. But when's all's don, 'tis in plain truth a tryal full of incertainty and danger. What would not a man say, what would not a man do to avoid so intolerable torments?

Etiam innocentes cogit mentiri dolor.

* 1.65Pain the most innocent will make to lye.

Whence it comes to pass, that he whom the Judg has rackt, that he may not dye in∣nocent, he makes him die both innocent and rackt. A thousand and a thousand have char∣ged their own heads by false confessions. Amongst which I place Philotas, considering the circumstances of the Tryal Alexander put him upon, and the progress of his torture. But so it is (says one) that it is the least evill humane weakness could invent; very in∣humanely notwithstanding, and to very little purpose in my opinion. Many Nations less Barbarous in this, than the Greeks and Romans who call them so, repute it horrible and cruel, to torment and pull a man to peices for a

fault of which they are yet in doubt. How can he help your ignorance? Are not you unjust, that, not to kill him without cause, do worse than kill him? And that this is so, do but observe how many ways he had rather die without Reason, than undergo this Exa∣mination, more painful than Execution it self; and that oft-times, by its extremity, prevents Execution, and dispatches him. I know not where I had this Story: but it exactly matches the Conscience of our Justice in this particular. A Country woman, to a General of very severe Discipline, accused one of his Souldiers, that he had taken from her Children the little milke she had lest to nourish them withal, the Army having consum'd all the rest: but of this, Proof there was none. The General, after having caution'd the woman to take good heed to what she said, for that she would make her∣self guilty of a false Accusation, if she told a lie; and she persisting, he presently caused the Souldiers belly to be ript up, to clear the truth of the fact, and the Woman was found to be in the right. An instructive Sentence.

CHAP. VI. Vse makes Perfectness.

'TIS not to be expected, that Argument and Instruction, though we never so vo∣luntarily surrender our belief to what is read to us, should be of force to lead us on so far as to Action, if we do not over and above exercise and form the Soul by Experience to the course for which we design it: it will otherwise doubtless find it self at a loss, when it comes to the pinch of the business. This is the reason, why those amongst the Philoso∣phers, who were ambitious to attain to a greater excellence, were not contented to expect the severities of fortune in their retirement, and repose of their own habitations, lest she should have surpriz'd them raw and unexpert in the Combat; but sallied out to meet her, and pur∣posely threw themselves into the proof of difficulties. Some of which abandon'd Riches to exercise themselves in a voluntary proverty: others have sought out labour, and an ••usterity of life, to inure them to hard-ships and inconve∣niencies; others have deprived themselves of their dearest members, as of their sight and instruments of Generation, left their too delightful and effe∣minate service should soften and debauch the stability of their Souls. But in dying, which is the greatest work we have to do, Practice is out of doors, and can give us no assistance at all. A man may by custom fortisie himself against paines, shame, necessity and such like

accidents; but, as to death, we can experiment it but once, and are all Apprentices when we come to it. There have antiently been men so excellent managers of their time, that they have tried, even in death it self, to relish and tast it, and who have bent their utmost facul∣ties of mind to discover, what this passage is: but they are none of them come back to tell us the news.

—Nemo expergitus extat,* 1.66 Frigida quem semel est vitai pausa sequuta.

—No one was ever known to wake, Who once in deaths cold arms a nap did take.

Canius Julius, a noble Roman, of singular con∣stancy and vertue, having been condemn'd to die by that Beast Caligula, besides many admi∣rable testimonies that he gave of his resolu∣tion, as he was just going to receive the stroke of the Executioner, was askt by a Philosoper, a freind of his; well Canius, said he, wherabout is your Soul now? What is she doing? What are you thinking of? I was thinking, reply'd the other, to keep my self ready and the fa∣culties of my mind settled and fixt, to try if in this short and quick instant of death, I could perceive the motion of the Soul when she parts from the body, and whether she has any re∣sentment at the separation, that I may after come again if I can, to acquaint my freinds with it. This man Philosophizes not unto death onely, but in death self. What a strange

assurance was this, and what bravery of cou∣rage, to desire his death should be a lesson to him, and to have leisure to think of other things in so great an affair?

—Jus hoc animi morientis habebat.

This mighty pow'r of mind he dying had.

* 1.67And yet I fancy, there is a certain way of making it familiar to us, and in some sort of making tryal, what it is. We may gain expe∣rience, if not entire and perfect, yet such at least, as shall not be totally useless to us; and that may render us more assur'd. If we can∣not overtake it, we may approach it and view it, and if we do not advance so far as to the Fort, we may at least discover it, and make our selves perfect in the Avenues. It is not without reason that we are taught to consider sleep, as a resemblance of death. With how great facility do we pass from waking to sleeping, and with how little concern do we lose the knowledg of light,* 1.68 and of our∣selves! Perad••••nture the faculty of sleeping would seem useless and contrary to nature, being it deprives us of all action and sense, were it not that by it Nature instructs us, that she has equally made us to die, as to live, and from life presents us the Eternal Estate, she re∣serves for us after it, to accustom us to it, and to take from us the fear of it. But such, as have by some violent accident fallen into a swoon, and in it have lost all sense, these, methinks,

have been very near seeing the true and natu∣ral face of death; for as to the moment of the passage, it is not to be fear'd that it brings with it any pain, or displeasure, for as much as we can have no feeling without leisure; Our suffe∣rings require time, which in death is so short and so precipitous, that it must necessarily be insensible. They are the approaches that we are to fear, and those may fall within the limits of experience. Many things seem greater by imagination, than they are in effect. I have past a good part of my age in a perfect and entire health; I say, not only entire; but more∣over spritely and wanton. This estate, so full of verdure, jollity and vigour, made the con∣sideration of sickness so formidable to me, that when I came to experiment it, I found the at∣tacques faint, and easy in comparison of what I had apprehended. Of this I have daily ex∣perience; If I am under the shelter of a warm room, in a stormy and tempestuous night, I wonder how People can live abroad, and am afflicted for those who are out in the 〈◊〉〈◊〉: If I am there my self, I do not wish to be any where else. This one thing of being always shut up in a chamber I fanc••ed insupportable: but I was presently inur'd to be so imprison'd a week, nay a month togeather. And have found that in the time of my health, I did much more lament the sick, than I think my self to be lamented when I am so, and that the force of my imagination enhances near one half of the essence and reality of the thing. I hope that

when I come to die I shall find the same, and that I shall not find it worth the pains I take, so much preparation and so much assistance as I call in, to undergo the stroak. But we can∣not give our selves too much advantage at all adventures.

In the time of our third, or second troubles, (I do not well remember which) going one day abroad to take the aire, about a league from my own house, which is seated in the very Center of all the bustle and mischeif of the late Civil wars of France, thinking my self in all security, and so near to my retreat that I stood in need of no better Equipage, I had taken a horse that went very easy upon his pace, but was not very strong. Being upon my return home, a suddain occasion falling out to make use of this horse, in a kind of service that he was not acquainted with; one of my train, a lusty proper fellow, mounted upon a strong German horse, that had a very ill mouth, but was other∣wise vigorous and unfoild; to play the Bravo and appear a better man than his fellowes, comes thundring full speed in the very track where I was, rushing like a Colossus upon the little man, and the little horse, with such a carreer of strength and weight, that he turn'd us both over and over, topsy turvy with our heeles in the aire: so that there lay the horse over thrown and stun'd with the fall, and I ten or twelve paces from him stretcht out at length, with my face all batter'd and broken, my sword which I had in my hand, above ten paces

beyond that, and my belt broke all to pieces, without motion or sence any more than a stock. 'Twas the only swoon I was ever in till this hour in my life. Those who were with me, after having used all the means they could to bring me to my self, concluding me dead, took me up in their arms, and carried me with very much difficulty home to my house; which was about half a French league from thence▪ Having been by the way and two long hours after, gi∣ven over for a dead man, I began to move and to fetch my breath; for so great abundance of blood was fall'n into my stomack, that Nature had need to rouse her forces to discharge it. They then raised me upon my feet, where I threw off a great quantity of pure Florid blood, as I had also don several times by the way, which gave me so much ease, that I began to recover a little life, but so leisurely and by so small advances, that my first sentiments were much neare the approaches of death than life.

Perche dubbiosa anchor del suo ritorna Non s'assecura attonita la mente.* 1.69

Because the Soul her mansion half had quit, And was not sure she was return'd to it.

The remembrance of this accident, which is very well imprinted in my memory, so natu∣rally representing to me the Image and Idea of death, has in some sort reconcil'd me to that un∣toward accident. When I first began to ••pen

my eyes after my trance, it was with so per∣plex't, so weak and dead a sight, that I could yet distinguish nothing and could only discern the light.

—Come quel ch'or apre, or chiude * 1.70Gli occhi, mezzo tra'l sonno è l'esser desto.

As people in the morning when they rise, 'Twixt sleep, and wake open and shut their eyes.

As to the functions of the Soul, they advan∣ced with the same pace and measure with those of the Body. I saw my self all bloody, my dou∣blet being stain'd and spotted all over with the blood I had vomited; and the first thought that came into my mind, was, that I had a Har∣quebuze shot in my head: and indeed at the same time, there were a great many fir'd round about us. Methought, my life but just hung upon my lips; and I shut my eyes, to help, methought, to thrust it out; and took a plea∣sure in languishing and letting my self go. It was an imagination that only superficially slo••ed upon my Soul, as tender and weak as all the rest, but really, not only exempt from pain, but mixt with that sweetness and pleasure that People are sensible of, when they indulge themselves to drop into a slumber. I beleive it is the very same condition those People are in, whom we see to swoon with weakness, in she agonie of death, and am of opinion that we lament them without cause, supposing them

agitated with greivous dolours, or that their Souls suffer under painful thoughts. It has ever been my beleif, contrary to the opinion of many and particularly of Stephen Boetius, that those whom we see so subdued and stupified at the approaches of their end, or deprest with the length of the disease, or by accident of an Apo∣plexie, or falling Sickness.

(Vi morbi saepe coactus* 1.71 Ante oculos aliquis nostros ut fulminis ictu Concidit, & spumas agit, ingemit, & fremit artus, Desipit, extentat nervos, torquetur, anhelat, Inconstanter et in jactando membra fatigat.)

By the disease compell'd so we see some, As they were thunder-struk, fall, groan and foam Tremble, stretch, writh, breath short, until at length In various struglings they tire out their strength.)

Or hurt in the head, whom we hear to mut∣ter and by fits to utter greivous groanes, though we gather from thence some sign by which it seems as if they had some remains of sense and knowledge, I have always believ'd, I say, both the Body and the Soul benumn'd, and asleep.

Vivit & est vitae nescius ipse suae.* 1.72

He lives, but does not know, That he does so.

And could not beleive that in so great a stu∣pefaction of the members and so great a defection of the senses, the ••oul could maintain any force within, to take cognizance of herself or look into her own condition, and that therefore they had no tormenting reflexions, to make them consider and be sensible of the misery of their condition, and consequently were not much to be lamented. I can for my part think of no estate so insupportable and dreadful, as to have the Soul spritely and afflicted without means to declare it self: as one should say of such who are sent to Execution, with their tongues first cut out; were it not that in this kind of dying, the most silent seems to me the most graceful, if accompanied with a grave and constant coun∣tenance; or of those miserable Prisoners, who fall into the hands of the base bloody Souldiers of this Age, by whom they are tormented with all sorts of inhumane usage, to compel them to some excessive and impossible ransom; kept in the mean time in such condition and place, where they have no means of expressing, or signifying their mind and misery, to such as they may expect should releive them. The Poets have feign'd some Gods, who favour the deliverance of such as suffer under a languishing death.

—Hunc ego Diti Sacrum jussa fero, téque isto corpore solvo.* 1.73

I by command offer to Pluto this, And from that body do the Soul dismiss.

Both the interrupted words, and the short and irregular answers one gets from them somtimes, by bawling and keeping a clutter about them; or the motions which seem to yeild some con∣sent to what we would have them do, are no testimony nevertheless that they live an entire life at least. So it happens that in the yawning of sleep, before it has fully possest us to perceive, as in a dream, what is don about us, and to fol∣low the last things are said with a perplex't and uncertain hearing, which seem but to touch upon the borders of the Soul; and make answers to the last words have been spoken to us, which have more in them of fortune than sense. Now seing I have effectually tried it, I make no doubt but I have hitherto made a right judgment. For first, being in a swoon, I labour'd with both hands to rip open the buttons of my doublet, (for I was without arms) and yet I felt nothing in my imagination that hurt me; for we have many motions in us, that do not proceed from our direction.

Semianimésque micant digiti, ferrúmque re∣tractant.* 1.74

And half-dead fingers grope about and feel, To grasp again the late abandon'd steel.

So falling People extend their arms before them by a natural impulse, which prompts them to offices and motions, without any Commission from us.

* 1.75Falciferos memorant currus abscindere membra, Vt tremere in terra videatur ab artubus, id quod Decidit abscissum, cùm mens tamen atque hominis Mobilitate mali non quit sentire dolorem.

How limbs syth-bearing Chariots lopt, they tell Would move and tremble on the ground they fell, When he himself, from whom the limb was ta'ne, Could by the swiftness feel no kind of pain.

My stomack was so opprest with the coagu∣lated blood, that my hands mov'd to that part, of their own voluntary motion, as they fre∣quently do to the part that itches, without being directed by our Will. There are several Animals and even Men, in whom one may per∣ceive the muscles to stir and tremble after they are dead. Every one experimentally knows, that there are some members, which grow stiff and slag without his leave. Now those pas∣sions

which only touch the outward Bark of us, as a man may say, cannot be said to be ours: to make them so, there must be a concurrence of the whole man and the pains, which are felt by the hand or the foot while we are sleeping, are none of ours. As I drew near my own house, where the Alarm of my fall was already got before me, and that my family were come out to meet me, with the hubbub usual in such cases; I did not only make some little answer to some questions were askt me, but they moreover tell me, that I had so much sense, as to order that a horse I saw trip and faulter in the way, which is mountainous and uneasy, should be given to my wife. This consideration should seem to proceed from a Soul, that retained its functions; but it was nothing so with me. I knew not what I said or did, and they were nothing but idle thoughts in the clouds, that were stir'd up by the senses of the eyes and eares, and pro∣ceeded not from me. I knew not for all that, or whence I came, or whither I went, neither was I capable to weigh and consider what was said to me: these were light effects, that the senses produc't of themselves, as of custom, what the Soul contributed was in a dream, as being lightly toucht, lick't and bedew'd by the soft impression of the senses. Notwithstanding, my condition was in truth very easy and quiet, I had no afflictions upon me, either for others or my self. It was an extream drooping and weekness without any manner of pain. I saw my own house, but knew it not. When they

had put me to bed, I found an inexpressible sweetness in that repose; for I had been damna∣bly tugg'd and lugg'd by those poor People, who had taken the pains to carry me upon their Arms a very great and a very ill way, and had in so doing all quite tir'd out themselves twice or thrice one after another. They offer'd me se∣veral remedies, but I would take none, cer∣tainly beleiving that I was mortally wounded in the head. And in earnest, it had been a very happy death, for the weakness of my understanding depriv'd me of the faculty of discerning, and that of my body from the sense of feeling. I suffered my self to glide away so sweetly and after so soft and easy a manner, that I scarce find any other action less troublesom than that was. But when I came again to my self and to reassume my faculties.

Vt tandem sensus convaluere mei,

* 1.76As my lost senses did again return,

Which was two or three hours after, I felt my self on a suddain involv'd in terrible pain, ha∣ving my limbs shatter'd and groun'd to pieces with my fall, and was so exceeding ill two or three nights after, that I thought once more to die again, but a more painful death, having con∣cluded my self as good as dead before, and to this hour am sensible of the bruises of that terrible shock. I will not here omit, that the last thing I could make them beat into my head, was the

memory of this accident, and made it be over and over again repeated to me, whither I was going, from whence I came, and at what time of the day this mischance besel me, before I could comprehend it. As to the manner of my fall, that was conceal'd from me in favour to him, who had been the occasion, and other slim∣flams were invented to palliate the truth. But a long ••••me a••••er and the very next day that my memory began to return and to represent to me the e••••ate wherein I was, at the Instant that I perceived this horse comming full drive upon me (for I had seen him come thundring at my heeles, and gave my self for gone: But this thought had been so suddain, that fear had had no leisure to introduce it self) it seem'd to me like a flash of lightning that had peirc'd thorough my Soul, and that I came from the other World.

This long Story, of so light an accident, would appear vain enough, were it not for the knowledge I have gain'd by it for my own use; for I do really find, that to be acquainted with death, is no more but nearly to approach it. Every one, as Pliny says, is a good Doctrine to himself, provided he be capable of discovering himself near at hand. This is not my Doctrine, 'tis my study; and is not the lesson of another, but my own, and yet if I communicate it, it ought not to be ill taken. That which is of use to me, may also peradventure be useful to another. As to the rest, I spoile nothing, I make use of nothing but my own; and if I play

the fool, 'tis at my own expence and no body else is concern'd in't: for 'tis a folly, that will die with me and that no one is to inherit. We hear but of two or three of the Ancients, who have beaten this Road, and yet I cannot say, if it be after this manner, knowing no more of them but their names. Not one since has followed the track: 'tis a tickle subject and more nice than it seems, to follow a pace so extravagant and uncertain, as that of the Soul; to penetrate the dark Profundities of their intricate internal windings; to choose and lay hold of so many little graces and nimble motions, and a new and extraordinary undertaking, and that withdraws us from the common and most recommended emploiments of the World. 'Tis now many years since, that my thoughts have had no other aime and level, than my self, and that I have only pried into and studied my self: Or if I study any other thing, 'tis to lay it up for and to apply it to my self. And yet I do not think it a fault, if, as others do by other much less pro∣fitable Sciences, I communicate what I have learn't in this affair: though I am not very well pleased with what I have writ upon this Subject. There is no description so difficult, nor doubtless of so great utility, as that of a Mans self. And withall a Man must curle, set out and adjust himself to appear in publick. Now I am per∣petually tricking my self; for I am eternally upon my own description. Custome has made all speaking of a Man's self vicious and do's po∣sitively interdict it, in hatred to the vanity,

that seems inseparably joyn'd with the testimo∣ny men give of themselves. I do not know that necessarily follows; but allowing it to be true, and that it must of necessity be presum∣ption to entertain the people with Discourses of ones self: I ought not, pursuing my general Design, to forbear an action that publishes this Infirmity of mine; nor conceal the Fault which I not only practise, but profess. Notwithstand∣ing, to speak my thought freely, I do think that the custom of condemning Wine, because some people will be drunk, is it self to be con∣demned. A man cannot abuse any thing but what is good in it self; and I believe that this Rule has only regard to the popular Vice: they are Bits, with which neither the Saints whom we hear speak so highly of themselves, nor the Philosophers, nor the Divines will be curb'd; neither will I, who am as little the one as the other: Of what does Socrates treat more largely, than of himself? To what does he more direct, and address the Discourses of his Disciples, than to speak of themselves, not of the Lesson in the Book, but of the Essence and Motion of their Souls? We confess our selves Religiously to God, and our Confessor; and, as they are our Neighbours to all the people. But some will an∣swer, and say, that we there speak nothing but Accusation against our selves: Why then we say all, for our very Vertue it self is faulty and penitable; my Trade and Art is to live. He that forbids me to speak according to my own Sense, Experience and Practice, may as well

enjoyn an Architect not to speak of Building according to his own knowledge, but accord∣ing to that of his Neighbour; according to the knowledge of another, and not according to his own. If it be Vain-glory for a man to publish his own Vertues, why does not Cicero prefer the Eloquence of Hortensius, and Hortensius that of Cicero? Peradventure they mean, that I should give testimony of my self by Works and Effects, not barely by Words: I chiefly paint my Thoughts, an Inform Subject, and inca∣pable of Operative Production. 'Tis all that I can do to couch it in this airery body of the Voice. The Wisest and Devoutest Men have liv'd in the greatest Care to avoid all discovery of Works: Effects would more speak of For∣tune, than of me. They manifest their own Office, and not mine; but uncertainly, and by conjecture: They are but Patterns of some one particular Vertue I expose my self entire: 'tis a Skeleton where at one view the Veins, Mus∣cles, and Tendons are apparent every of them in its proper place. I do not write my own Acts, but my Self and my Essence: I am of opinion, that a man must be very wise to value himself, and equally consciencious, to give a true Report; be it better or worse, indifferent∣ly: If I thought my self perfectly good and wise, I would speak with open mouth, and rattle it out to some purpose. To speak less of a man's self, than what one really is, is folly, not modesty; and to take that for currant pay, which is under a man's value, is Pusillanimity

and Cowardize, according to Aristotle. No Vertue assists it self with Falshood; Truth is never the Master of Errour: To speak more of ones self, than is really true, is not always Pre∣sumption, 'tis moreover very often Folly: ••o be immeasurably pleas'd with what one is, and to fall into an indiscreet self-love, is in my opi∣nion the Substance of this Vice. The most So∣vereign Remedy to cure it, is to do quite con∣trary to what these people direct, who in for∣bidding men to speak of themselves, do con∣sequently at the same time interdict thinking of themselves too. Pride dwells in the Thought, the Tongue can have but a very little share in it: They fancy, that to think of ones self is to be delighted with himself; to frequent, and to converse with a man's self, to be over-in∣dulgent. But this Excess springs only in those, who only take of themselves a Superficial View, and dedicate their main Inspection to their Af∣fairs; that call Meditation, raving and idleness, looking upon themselves as a third person only, and a stranger. If any one be ravisht with his own Knowledge, whilst he looks only on those below him; let him but turn his Eye upward towards past Ages, and his Pride will be aba∣ted, when he shall there find so many thousand Wits that trample him under foot. If he enter into a flattering vanity of his personal Valour, let him but recollect the Lives of Scipio, Epami∣nondas, so many Armies and Nations that leave him so far behind them, and he will be cur'd of his Self-opinion. No particular Quality can

make any man proud, that will at the same time put so many other meek and imperfect ones as he has in him in the other Scale, and the Nothingness of Humane Condition to bal∣lance the weight: Because Socrates had alone swallow'd to purpose the Precept of his God, To know himself, and by that study was arriv'd to the perfection of setting himself at naught; he was only reputed worthy the Title of a Sage. Whosoever shall so know himself, let him bold∣ly speak it out.

CHAP. VII. Of Recompences of Honour.

THey who write the Life of Augustus Cae∣sar, observe this in his Military Disci∣pline, That he was wonderfully liberal of Gifts to Men of Merit; but that as to the true Re∣compences of Honour, he was as sparing. So it is, that he had himself been gratified by his Uncle with all the Military Recompences, be∣fore he had ever been in the Field. It was a pret∣ty Invention, and receiv'd into most Govern∣ments of the World, to Institute certain vain and insignificant Distinctions to Honour and recompence Vertue; such as the Crowns of Lawrel, Oak, and Myrrh, the particular Fashion of some Garment, the priviledge to ride in a Coach in the City, or to have a Torch by Night; some peculiar place assign'd in publick

Assemblies; the Prerogative of certain addi∣tional Names and Titles; certain Distinctions in their bearing of Coats of Arms, and the like: The use of which, according to the several Hu∣mours of Nations, has been variously receiv'd, and do yet continue. We in France,* 1.77 as also se∣veral of our Neighbous, have the Orders of Knighthood, that are instituted only for this end. And 'tis in earnest a very good and profitable Custom, to find out an Acknowledgment for the Worth of Rare and Excellent Men; and to sa∣tisfie their Ambition with Rewards, that are not at all Chargeable either to Prince or People: And that which has been always found both by ancient Experience; and that we our selves may also have observ'd in our own times; that men of Quality have ever been more jealous of such Recompences, than of those wherein there was Gain and Profit, is not without very good ground and reason. If with Reward, which ought to be simply a Recompence of Honour, they should mix other Emoluments, and add Riches; this mixture in stead of procuring an encrease of Estimation, would vilifie and abate it. The Order of St. Michael, which has been so long in repute amongst us, had no other,* 1.78 nor greater Commodity, than that it had no com∣munication with any other; which produc'd this Effect, that formerly there was no Office, nor Title whatever, to which the Gentry pre∣tended with so great Desire and Affection, as they did to that; nor Quality that carried with it more Respect and Grandure: Vertue more

willingly embracing, and, with greater Ambi∣tion, aspiring to a Recompence truly her own, and rather Honourable than Beneficial: For intruth, the other Rewards have not so great a Dignity of Usage, by reason they are laid out upon all sorts of Occasions. With Money a man pays the Wages of a Servant, the Dili∣gence of a Courrier, Dancing, Vaulting, Speak∣ing, and the vilest Offices we receive; nay, and reward Vice with it too; as Flattery, Trea∣chery, and Pimping: and therefore 'tis no won∣der if Vertue does less desire, and less willingly receive this common sort of Payment, than that which is proper and peculiar to her, throughout Generous and Noble. Augustus had reason to be a better Husband, and more spa∣ring of this, than the other; by how much Honour is a Priviledge that extracts its prin∣cipal Esteem from Rarity, and Vertue its self.

* 1.79Cui malus est nemo, quis bonus esse potest?

To whom none seemeth ill, who good can seem?

We do not intend it for a Commendation, when we say, that such a one is careful in the Educa∣tion of his Children: by reason it is a common Act, how just and well done soever; no more than we commend a great Tree, where the whole Forrest is the same. I do not think that any Citizen of Sparta valued himself much upon his Valour,* 1.80 it being the universal Vertue of

the whole Nation, and as little glorified him∣self upon his Fidelity, and contempt of Riches. There is no Recompence due to Vertue, how great soever, that is once past into a Custom; and I know not withal, whether we can ever call it Great, being Common. Seeing that these Remunerations of Honour have no other Va∣lue and Estimation, but only this, That few people enjoy them; 'tis but to be liberal of them, to bring them down to nothing. And though there should be now more men found than in former times worthy of our Order, the estima∣tion of it nevertheless should not be abated, nor the honour made cheap. And it may easily fall out, that more may merit it; for there is no Vertue that so easily dilates it self, as that of Military Valour: There is another true, per∣fect, and Philosophical, of which I do not speak, (and only make use of the word in the com∣mon acceptation) much greater than this, and more full, which is a force and assurance of Souls, equally disposing all sorts of adverse Ac∣cidents, equal, uniform, and constant; of which ours is no more, than one little Ray. U∣sance, Precept, Example and Custom, can do all in all to the establishment of that whereof I am speaking, and with great facility render it vulgar, as by the experience of our Civil War is manifest enough; and whoever could at this instant unite us Catholick and Hugonot into one Body, and set us upon some brave Enterprize, we should again make our ancient Military Re∣putation to flourish. It is most certain, that in

times past, the Recompence of this Order, had not only a regard to Valour, but had a further Prospect. It never was the Reward of a Valiant Souldier, but of a Great Captain. The Science of obeying was not reputed worthy of so honourable a Guerdon, there was therein a more Universal Military Expertness requir'd, and that comprehended the most and the great∣est Qualities of a Military man; Neque enim eaedem Militares & Imperatoriae artes sunt. For the Military knowledge requir'd in a common Souldier and a General, are not the same; as also besides a Condition suitable to such a Dig∣nit••. But I say, that though more men were worthy than formerly; yet ought it not to be more liberally distributed, and that it were better to fall short in not giving it to all to whom it should be acknowledged due, than for ever to lo••e, as we have lately done, the Fruit of so pro∣fitable an Invention. No man of Spirit will d••ign to advantage himself with what is in com∣mon wi••h many: And such of the present time, as have least merited this Recompence, make the greater shew of didaining it, being there∣by to be rankt with those, to whom so much wrong has been done, by the unworthy conferring and debasing the Character, which was 〈◊〉〈◊〉 particular right. Now to expect that in obliterating and abolishing this suddenly,* 1.81 to create and bring into credit a like new Institu∣tion, is not a proper Attempt for so licentious and so sick a Time as this, wherein we now are▪ and it will fall out, that the last will from its

birth incur the same Inconveniences, that have ruin'd the oth••••. The Rules for the dispensing of this New Order, had need to be extreamly clipt, and bound under great Restrictions to give it Authority; and this tumultuous Season is incapable of such a Curb: Besides, that be∣fore this can be brought into Repute, 'tis ne∣cessary that the Memory of the first, and the Contempt into which it is faln, be totally bu∣ried in Oblivion.

This place might naturally enough admit of some Discourse upon the Consideration of Va∣lour, and the Difference of this Vertue from others: But Plutarch having so often handled this Subject, I should give my self an unnecessa∣ry Trouble to repeat what he has said; but this is worth considering, That our Nation place Valour in the Highest Degree of Vertue; as the very Word does evidence, being deriv'd from Value, and that according to our Usance when we decipher a Worthy Man, or a Man of Value; only in our Court style, to say a Va∣liant Man, after the Roman way: For the ge∣neral Appellation of Vertue with them, takes Etymology from Force. The proper, sole, and essential Method of the French Nobleness, is the Practice of Arms: And 'tis likely that the first Vertue which discovered its self amongst Men, and that has given some Advantage over others, was this; by which the Strongest and most Va∣liant have Lorded it over the Weaker, and En∣tail'd upon themselves a particular Authority and Reputation: Or else that these Nations

being very Warlike, has given the Preheminence to that of the Vertues which was most fami∣liar to them, and that they thought of the most worthy Character. Just as our Passion and the Feaverish Solicitude we have of the Chastity of Woman, makes that to say, A good Woman, a Woman of Worth; and a Woman of Honour and Vertue, signifie no more but a Chast Woman: as if to Oblige her to that one Duty, we were indifferent as to all the rest, and gave them the Reins to all other Faults whatever, to compound for that one of In∣continence.

CHAP. VIII. Of the Affection of Fathers to their Children. To Madam D'ESTISSAC.

MAdam, If the Strangeness and Novelty of my Subject which are wont to give Va∣lue to things, do not save me, I shall never come off with Honour from this foolish At∣tempt: But 'tis so Fantastick, and carries a Face so unlike the common Usance, that that per∣adventure may make it pass. 'Tis a Melancho∣lick Humour, and consequently an Humour very much an Enemy to my Natural Com∣plexion, engendred by the Pensiveness of the Solitude, into which for some years past I have retir'd my self, that first put into my head this

idle Fancy of Writing: Wherein finding my self totally Unprovided and Empty of other Matter, I presented my Self to my Self for Ar∣gument and Subject. 'Tis the only Book in the World of its kind, and of a wild and extravagant Design; there is nothing worth Remark but the Extravagancy in this Affair: for in a Subject so vain and frivolous, the best Workman in the World could not have given it a Form fit to re∣commend it to any manner of Esteem.

Now, Madam, being to draw mine own Pi∣cture to the Life, I had omitted the onely grace∣ful Feature, had I not therein represented the Honour I have ever had for you, and your Merits; which I have purposely chosen to say in the beginning of this Chapter, by reason that amongst many other Excellent Qualities you are Mistress of, that of the tender Love you have manifested to your Children, is worthi∣ly seated in one of the highest places. Whoever shall know at what age Monsieur d'Estissac your Husband left you a Widow, the great and ho∣nourable Matches have since been offer'd to you, as many as to any Lady of your Condi∣tion in France; the Constancy and steadiness wherein you have liv'd so many years, and wherewith you have gone through so many sharp Difficulties, the Charge and Conduct of their Affairs who have prosecuted you in every Corner of the Kingdom, and who yet are not weary of tormenting you; and the happy Di∣rection you have given in all this, either by your single Prudence, or good Fortune, will

easily conclude with me, that we have not so lively an Example as yours of maternal Affecti∣on in our times. I praise God, Madam, that it has been so well employ'd; for the great hopes that Monsieur d'Estissac the Son gives of him••elf, do advance sufficient assurance, that when he comes to age, you will reap from him all the Obedience and Gratitude of a very good man. But forasmuch as by reason of his tender years he has not been capable of taking notice of those Offices of extreamest kindness he has in so great number receiv'd from you;* 1.82 I will, if these Pa∣pers shall one day happen to fall into his hands, when I shall neither have Mouth nor Speech left to deliver it to him, that he shall receive a true account of those things from me, which shall be more effectually manifested to him by their own Effects, by which he will understand, that there is not a Gentleman in France, who stands more indebted to a Mothers Care; and that he cannot for the future give a better, nor more certain Testimony of himself, of his own Worth and Vertue, than by acknowledging you for that Excellent Mother you are.

If there be any Law truly Natural; that is to say, any Instinct that is seen universally and perpetually imprinted in both Beasts and Men, (which is not without Controversie) I can then say, that in my opinion, next to the Care every Animal has of his own Preservation, and to avoid that which may hurt him, the Affection that the Begetter bears to his Off-spring, holds the second place in this File. And seeing that

Nature seems to have recommended it to us, having regard to the Extension and Propagation of the successive Piece of this Machine: 'tis no wonder if on the contrary, that of Children towards their Parents is not so great. To which we may add this other Aristotelian Considera∣tion, that he who confers a Benefit on any one, loves him better, than he is belov'd by him again: and that every Artificer is fonder of his Work, than if that Work had Sense, it would be of him; by reason that it is dear to us to be, and to be consists in moving and acti∣on: Therefore every one has in some sort a being in his Work. Who confers a Benefit, ex∣ercises a fair and honest Action; who receives it, exercises the Vtile only. Now the Vtile is much less amiable than the Honest: the Honest is stable and permanent, supplying him who has done it with a continual Gratification. The V∣tile loses it self, easily slides away, and the Me∣mory of it is neither so fresh, nor so pleasing. Those things are dearest to us that have cost us most, and giving is more chargeable than re∣ceiving. Since it has pleas'd God to endue us with some Capacity of weighing and consider∣ing things, to the end we may not like Brutes be servilely subjected and enslav'd to the Laws common to both; but that we should by judg∣ment and a voluntary liberty apply our selves to them: We ought indeed something to yield to the simple Authority of Nature, but not suf∣fer our selves to be tyrannically hurried away and transported by her; being that Reason a∣lone

should have the Conduct of our Inclina∣tions. I for my part have a strange Disgust to those Propensions that are started in us, with∣out the Mediation and Direction of the Judg∣ment. As upon the Subject I am speaking of, I cannot entertain that Passion of Dandling and Caressing an Infant scarcely born, having as yet neither motion of Soul, nor shape of Body distinguishable, by which they can render them∣selves amiable; and have not willingly suffered them to be nurs'd near me: A true and regular Affection ought to spring and encrease with the knowledge they give us of themselves, and then if they are worthy of it, the natural Propen∣sion walking hand in hand with Reason, to che∣rish them with a truly Paternal Love; and to judge and discern also if they be otherwise, still rendring our selves to Reason, notwithstanding the Inclination of Nature. It goes through some∣times quite otherwise, and most commonly we find our selves more taken with the running up and down the Play, and Puerile Simplicity of our Children, than we do afterwards with their most compleated Actions; as if we had lov'd them for our sport, like Monkies, and not as Men. And some there are, who are very liberal in buying them Balls to play withal, who are very close-handed for the least necessary Ex∣pence when they come to age. Nay, to that degree, that it looks as if the jealousie of seeing them appear in, and enjoy the World, when we are about to leave it, render'd us more niggardly and stingy towards them. It vexes us that they

tread upon our Heels, as if to solicite us to go out; and if this be to be fear'd, since the order of things will have it so that they cannot, to speak the truth, be, nor live, but at the ex∣pence of our Being and Life, we should never meddle with getting Children. For my part I think it Cruelty and Injustice not to receive them into the share and society of our Goods, and not to make them Partakers in the Intelli∣gence of our Domestick Affairs, when they are capable, and not to lessen and contract our own Expences to make the more room for theirs, seeing we beget them to that effect. 'Tis un∣just that an old Fellow, deaf, lame, and half-dead, should alone in a Corner of the Chimney, en∣joy the Goods that were sufficient for the Main∣tenance and Advancement of many Children, and to suffer them in the mean time to lose their best Years, for want of means to put them∣selves into publick service, and the knowledge of men. A man by this means drives them to desperate Courses, and to seek out by any means, how unjust or dishonourable soever, to provide for their own support. As I have in my time seen several young men of good Extraction, so addicted to stealing, that no Correction could cure them of it. I know one of a very good Fa∣mily, to whom, at the request of a Brother of his, a very honest and brave Gentleman, I once spoke upon this account; who made answer, and confest to me roundly, that he had been put upon this dirty Practice by the Severity and Avarice of his Father: but that he was now so

accustom'd to't, he could not leave it. At which time he was trapt stealing a Ladies Rings,* 1.83 being come into her Chamber, as she was dressing with several others. He put me in mind of a story I had heard of another Gentleman, so perfect and accomplisht in this gentile Trade in his Youth, that after he came to his Estate, and resolv'd to give it over, could not hold his hands neverthe∣less, if he past by a Shop where he saw any thing he lik'd, from catching it up, though it put him to the shame of sending afterwards to pay for't. And I have my self seen several so habituated to this laudable quality, that even amongst their Comrades they could not forbear filching, though with intent to restore what they had taken. I am a Gascon, and yet there is no Vice I so little understand as that; I hate it some∣thing more by Disposition, than I condemn it in my Discourse: I do not so much as desire any thing of another man's.* 1.84 This Province of ours is, in plain truth, a little more suspected, than the other parts of the Kingdom; and yet we have often seen in our times men of good ••ami∣lies of other Provinces in the hands of Justice, Convicted of several abominable The••ts: I fear this Debauch is in some sort to be attributed to the forementioned Vice of the Fathers; and if a man should tell me, as a Lord of very good Understanding once did, that he hoarded up Wealth, not to extract any other fruit and use from his Parsimony, but to make himself ho∣nour'd, and sought to by his own Relations: and that Age having depriv'd him of all other

Forces, it was the only remaining Remedy to maintain his Authority in his Family, and to keep him from being neglected and despis'd by all the World, (and in truth, not only old age, but all other imbecillity, according to Aristotle, is the Promoter of Avarice.) This is something, but it is Physick for a Disease, that a man should prevent. A Father is very miserable, that has no other hold of his Childrens Affection, than the need they have of his Amstance, if that can be call'd Affection; he must render himself wor∣thy to be respected by his Vertue and Wisdom, and belov'd by his Bounty, and the sweetness of his Manners. Even the very Ashes of a rich Matter have their Value; and we are wont to have the Bones and Relicks of worthy Men in regard and reverence. No old Age can be so ruinous and offensive in a man who has past his Life in Honour, but it must be Venerable, es∣pecially to his Children; the Soul of which he must have train'd up to their Duty by Reason, not by Necessity, and the Need they have of him; nor by roughness and force.

—& errat longè, mea quidem sententia,* 1.85 Qui imperium credat esse gravius aut stabilius Vi quod fit, quàm illud quod amicitia adjungitur.

And he does mainly vary from my sence, Who thinks the Empire gain'd by violence, More absolute and durable, than that, Which gentleness and friendship do create.

I condemn all Violence in the Education of a tender Soul, that is design'd for Honour and Liberty. There is, I know not what, of Servile in Rigour and Restraint; and I am of opinion, that what is not to be done by Reason, Pru∣dence and Address, is never to be effected by Force. I my self was brought up after that man∣ner; and they tell me, that, in all my first Age, I never felt the Rod but twice, and then very easily. I have practis'd the same Method with my Children, who all of them died at Nurse; but Leonor my onely Daughter is arriv'd to the age of six years, and upward, without other Correction for her Childish Faults, (her Mo∣thers Indulgence easily concurring) than Words only, and those very gentle. In which kind of proceeding, though my end and expectation should be both frustrated, there are other Cau∣ses enough to lay the Fault on, without blaming my Discipline, which I know to be natural and just, and I should in this have yet been more Religious towards the Males, as born to less Subjection, and more free; and I should have made it my business to swell their Hearts with Ingenuity and Freedom. I have never observ'd other effects of Whipping, unless to render them more cowardly, or more wilful and obstinate. Do we desire to be belov'd of our Children? Will we remove from them all occasion of wishing our Death? (though no occasion of so horrid a Wish can either be just, or excusable; Nullum scelus rationem habet) let us reasonably accom∣modate their Lives with that is in our power.

In order to this, we should not marry so young, that our Age shall in a manner be confounded with theirs; for this inconvenience plunges us into many very great Difficulties: I say, the Gentry of the Nation, who are of a condition wherein they have little to do, and live upon their Revenues only: For elsewhere where the Life is dedicated to profit, the plurality and numbers of Children is an encrease to the good husbandry, and they are as so many new Tools and Instruments wherewith to grow rich. I married at three and thirty years of Age, and concur in the opinion of thirty five, which is said to be that of Aristotle.* 1.86 Plato will have no body marry before thirty; but he has reason to laugh at those, who undertake the work of Marriage after five and fifty, and condem their Off-spring as unworthy of Aliment and Life. Thales gave to this the truest Limits, who young, and being importun'd by his Mother to Marry, answered, That it was too soon, and being grown into years, and urg'd again, That it was too late. A man must deny opportunity to every importunate Action.* 1.87 The ancient Gauls look'd upon it as a very horrid thing, for a man to have had Society with a woman before twenty years of age; and strictly recommended to the men, who design'd themselves for War, the keeping their Virginity till well grown in years, foras∣much as Courage is abated and diverted by the use of Women.

Ma hor congiunto à giovinetta sposa, * 1.88Lieto homai, de figli era invilito Negli affetti di padre, & di marito.

But now being married to a fair young wife, He's quite faln off from his old course of life: His metle is grown rusty, and his care His Wife and Children do betwixt them share.

Muleasses King of Tunis, he whom the Em∣perour Charles the Fifth restor'd to his Kingdom, reproacht the Memory of his Father Mahomet with the Frequentation of Women, styling him Loose, Effeminate, and a Getter of Children. The Greek History observes of Jecus the Taren∣tine, of Chryso, Astiplus, Diopompus, and others, that to keep thir Bodies in order for the Olym∣pick Games, and such like Exercises, they de∣ny'd themselves, during that preparation, all Commerce with Venus. In a certain Country of the Spanish Indies, men were not admitted to marry till after Fourty years of Age, and yet the Girls were allowed to go to't at Ten. 'Tis not time for a Gentleman of Five and thirty years old to give place to his Son who is Twenty; he, being himself in a condition to serve both in the Expeditions of War, and in the Court of his Prince, has himself need of all his Equipage; and yet doubtless ought to allow his Son a share, but not so great a one, as wholly to disfurnish himself; and for such a one, the saying that Fathers have ordinarily in their mouths, That

they will not put off their Cloaths, before they go to bed, is proper enough: But a Father over-worn with Age and Infirmities, and depriv'd by his weakness and want of health of the common So∣ciety of men, wrongs himself and his, to rake together a great Mass of useless Treasure. He has liv'd long enough, if he be wise, to have a mind to strip himself to go to bed, not to his ve∣ry Shirt, I confess, but to that, and a good warm Night-Gown; the remaining Pomps of which he has no further use, he ought voluntarily to surrender to those to whom by the order of Na∣ture they belong. 'Tis reason he should refer the use of those things to them, seeing that Nature has reduc'd him to such an Estate, that he can∣not enjoy them himself: otherwise there is doubtless ill nature, and envy in the case. The greatest Act of the Emperour Charles the Fifth was, that, when in imitation of some of the An∣cients of his own Quality, confessing it but rea∣son to strip our selves when our Cloaths encum∣ber and grow too heavy for us, and to lie down when our Legs begin to fail us; he resign'd his Dignity, Grandeur, and Power to his Son, when he found the vigour and steadiness in the Con∣duct of his Affairs to fail in himself, with the Glory he had therein acquir'd.

Solve senescentem maturè sanus equum,* 1.89 ne Peccet ad extremùm ridendus, & ilia ducat.

The old worn Courser in good time dismiss, Lest failing in the Lists, Spectators hiss.

This fault of not perceiving betimes, and not being sensible of the feebleness and extream al∣teration that Age naturally brings both upon the Body and Mind (which in my opinion is equal, if the Soul is no more than the half) has lost the Reputation of most of the Great men in the World. I have known in my time, and been intimately acquainted with some Persons of very great Quality, whom a man might ea∣sily discern so manifestly laps'd from their former sufficiency, I was sure they were once endu'd with, by the Reputation they had acquired in their former years; that I could heartily, for their own sakes, have wisht them at home at their ease, discharg'd of their Publick Military Employments, which were now grown too heavy for their Shoulders. I have formerly been very familiar in a Gentleman's House, a Widow∣er, and very old, though healthy and chearful enough: This Gentleman had several Daugh∣ters to marry, and a Son already of a ripe age, which brought upon him many Visits, and a great Expence; neither of which did very well please him, not only out of consideration of Frugality; but yet more, for having, by rea∣son of his Age, enter'd into a course of Life far differing from ours. I told him one day a little boldly, as I use to do, that he would do better to give us room, and to leave his principal House, (for he had but that well scituated and furnisht) to his Son, and retire himself to an Estate he had hard by, where no body would trouble his Re∣pose, seing he could not otherwise avoid being

importun'd by us, the Condition of his Chil∣dren considered. He took my advice afterwards, and found an advantage by so doing: I do not mean, that a man should so instate them, as not to reserve to himself a liberty to recant; I, who am now arriv'd to the age, wherein such things are fit to be done, would resign to them the enjoyment of my House and Goods, but with a power of Revocation, if they should give me cause to alter my mind: I would leave to them the Use, they being no longer proper for me, and, of the general Authority and Power over all, would reserve as much as I thought good to my self: Having always thought, that it must needs be a great satisfaction to an aged Father, himself to put his Children into the way of governing his Affairs, and to have power during his own life to controul their Deport∣ments, supplying them with Instruction and Advice from his own Experience, and himself to transfer the ancient Honour and Order of his House into that of those who are to suc∣ceed him, and by that means to be responsible to himself (by the hopes he may conceive) for their future conduct. And in order to this, I would not avoid their company, I would ob∣serve them near at hand, and partake, accord∣ing to the condition of my age, of their Feasts and Jollities. If I did not live amongst them, (which I could not do, without being a distur∣bance to them, by reason of the morosity of my age, and the restlesness of my Infirmities, and without violating also the Rules and Order

of living, I should then have set down to my self) I would at least live near them in some remote part of my House, not the best in shew, but the most commodious. Nor as I saw some years ago a Dean of St. Hila••re of Pei••iers, by his Melancholy given up to such a solitude, that at the time I came into his Chamber, it had been Two and twenty years that he had not stept one foot out of it, and yet had all his Motions free, and eat, and was in perfect health, saving a little Rheume that fell upon his Lungs: He would hardly once in a week suffer any one to come in to see him; he always kept himself shut up in his Chamber alone, except that a Servant brought him once a day something to eat, and did then but just come in, and go out again. His Employment was to walk up and down, and read some Book, for he was a piece of a Scholar: but as to the rest, obstinately bent to die in this Retirement, as he presently after did. I would endeavour by a sweet and obli∣ging Conversation, to create in my Children a lively and unfeigned friendship and good will, which in well-descended Natures is not hard to do; for if they be Brutes, of which this Age of ours produces thousands, we are then to hate and avoid them. I am angry at the Custom, very much in use, of forbidding Children to call their Father by the name of Father, and to en∣joyn them another, as more full of respect and reverence, as if Nature had not sufficiently pro∣vided for our Authority: We call Almighty God Father, and disdain to have our Children call

us so; I have reform'd this Errour in my Fa∣mily. And 'tis also folly and injustice to de∣prive Children, when grown up, of a familia∣rity with their Father, and to carry a scornful and austere Countenance toward them, think∣ing by that to keep them in awe and obedience; for it is a very idle force, that, in stead of pro∣ducing the Effect design'd, renders Fathers di∣stastful; and, which is worse, ridiculous to their own Children. They have Youth and Vi∣gour in possession, and consequently the breath and favour of the World, and therefore receive these fierce and tyrannical looks (mere Scar-Crows) of a man without blood, either in his Heart or Veins, with mockery and contempt. Though I could make my self fear'd, I had yet much rather make my self belov'd. There are so many sorts of defects in old Age, so much im∣puissancy, and it is so liable to contempt, that the best purchase a man can make, is the kind∣ness and affection of his own Family; Com∣mand and Fear are no more his Weapons: Such a one I have known, who having been very in∣solent in his Youth, when he came to be old, though he might have liv'd at his full ease, and had his judgment as entire as ever, would yet torment himself, and others; strike, rant, swear, and curse; the most tempestuous Master in France: fretting himself with unnecessary sus∣picion and vigilancy; and all this rumble and clutter, but to make his Family cheat him the sooner, and the more; of his Barn, his Kitchin, Cellar, nay, and his very Purse too, others had

the greatest use and share, whilst he keeps his Keys in his Bosom, much more carefully than his Eyes: Whilst he hugs himself with the Fru∣gality of the pitiful pittance of a wretched and niggardly Table; every thing goes to wrack and ruin in every Corner of his House, in play, drink, all sorts of profusion; making sports in their Junkets with his vain Anger and fruitless Parsimony. Every one is a Centinel against him, and if by accident any wretched Fellow that serves him is of another humour, and will not joyn with the rest, he is presently rendred suspected to him, a Bait that old Age very easily bites at of its self. How oft has this Gentle∣man boasted to me, in how great awe he kept his Family, and how exact an Obedience and Reverence they paid him? How clearly did this man see into his own Affairs!

* 1.90Ille solus nescit omnia.

I do not know any one that can muster more Parts both natural and acquir'd, proper to main∣tain such a dominion, than he; yet he is faln from it like a Child. For this reason it is, that I have pickt out Him amongst several others that I know of the same humour, for the greatest Example. It were matter sufficient for a Que∣stion in the Schools, Whether he is better thus, or otherwise. In his Presence all submit to, and bow before him, and give so much way to his vanity, that no body ever resists him; he has his belly full of Cringe, and all postures of Fear,

Submission and Respect. Does he turn away a Servant? he packs up his bundle, and is gone; but 'tis no further, than just out of his sight: the Pace of old Age is so slow, and the Sence is so weak and troubled, that he will live and do his old Office in the same House a year together, without being perceiv'd. And after a fit inter∣val of time, Letters are pretended to come a great way off, from I know not where, very humble, suppliant, and full of promises of a∣mendment; by vertue of which he is again re∣ceiv'd into favour. Does Monsieur make any Bargain, or send away any Dispatch that does not please? 'tis supprest, and Causes now after∣ward forg'd to excuse the want of Execution in the one, or Answer in the other. No strange Letters being first brought to him, he never sees any but those that shall seem fit for his know∣ledge: If by accident they fall first into his own hand, being us'd to trust some body to read them to him, he reads extempore what he thinks fit, and very often makes such a one ask him pardon, who abuses and rails at him in his Let∣ter. Finally he sees nothing, but by an Image prepar'd and design'd before-hand, and the most satisfactory they can invent, not to rouze and awake his ill Humour and Choler. I have seen enow differing Forms of Oeconomy, long, con∣stant, and of like effect. Women, especially the perverse and elder sort, are evermore addicted to cross their Husbands: They lay hold with both hands on all occasions to contradict and op∣pose them, and the first excuse serves for a ple∣nary

Justification. I have seen who has grosly purloynd from her Husband, that, as she told her Confessor, she might distribute the more liberal Alms: Let who will trust to that Reli∣gious Dispensation. No management of Affairs seems to them of sufficient Dignity, if proceed∣ing from the Husband's assent; they must u∣surp either by Insolence, or Cunning, and al∣ways injuriously, or else it has not the Grace of Authority they desire. When, as in the case I am speaking of, 'tis against a poor Old man, and for the Children, than they make use of this Title to serve their Passion with Glory; and as in a common Servitude, easily monopolize a∣gainst his Government and Dominion. If they be Males grown up, and flourishing, they pre∣sently corrupt either by force, or favour, both Steward, Receivers, and all the Rout. Such as have neither Wife, nor Son, do not so easily fall into this misfortune; but withal more cru∣elly, and undeservingly. Cato the elder in his time, said, So many Servants, so many Enemies. Consider then, whether according to the vast difference betwixt the purity of the Age he liv'd in, and the corruption of this of ours, he does not seem to advertise us, that Wife, Son, and Servant, so many Enemies to us? 'Tis well for old Age, that it is always accompanied with Stupidity, Ignorance, and a facility of being de∣ceiv'd; for should we see how we are us'd, and would not acquiesce, what would become of us? especially in such an Age as this, where the ve∣ry Judges who are to determine, are usually

partial to the young, in any Cause that comes before them.* 1.91 In case that the discovery of this Cheat escape me, I cannot at least fail to dis∣cern that I am very fit to be cheated; and can a man ever enough speak the value of a Friend, in comparison with these civil tyes? The very Image of it, which I see so pure and uncorrupted in Beasts, how religiously do I respect it? If o∣thers deceive me, yet do I not at least deceive my self, in thinking I am able to defend me from them, or in cudgeling my Brains to make my self so? I protect my self from such Treasons in my own Bosom, not by an unquiet and tu∣multuary Curiosity, but rather by Mirth and Resolution. When I hear talk of any ones Con∣dition, I never trouble my self to think of him, I presently turn my Eyes upon my self, to see in what condition I am; what ever concerns another, relates to me, The Accident that has befaln him, gives me Caution, rouzes me to turn my Defence that way. We every day and every hour say things of another, that we might more properly say of our selves, could we but revert our Observation to our own Con∣cerns, as well as extend it to others. And se∣veral Authors have in this manner prejudic'd their own Cause, by running headlong upon those they attack, and darting those Shafts a∣gainst their Enemies, that are more properly, and with greater advantage to be return'd upon them. The last Mareschal de Monlue, having lost his Son, who was slain at the Isle of Madera; in truth a very brave Gentleman, and of great

expectation, did to me, amongst his other Re∣grets, very much insist upon what a Sorrow and Heart-breaking it was, that he had never made himself familiar and acquainted with him; and by that humour of Fatherly Gravity and Sowrness, to have lost the opportunity of ha∣ving an insight into, and of well knowing his Son; as also of letting him know the extream affection he had for him, and the worthy opi∣nion he had of his Vertue. That poor Boy, said he, never saw in me other, than a stern and disdainful Countenance, and is gone in a be∣lief, that I neither knew how to love nor esteem him according to his desert. For whom did I reserve the discovery of that singular Affection I had for him in my Soul? Was it not he him∣self, who ought to have had all the pleasure of it, and all the Obligation? I forc'd and rack'd my self to put on and maintain this vain Disguise, and have by that means depriv'd my self of the pleasure of his Conversation, and, I doubt in some measure, his Affection, which could not but be very cold towards me, having never o∣ther from me than Austerity; nor felt other than a tyrannical manner of proceeding. I find this Complaint to be rational and rightly ap∣prehended; for, as I my self know by too cor∣tain Experience, there is no so sweet Consolati∣on in the loss of Friends, as the conscience of having had no reserve of secret for them; and to have had with them a perfect and entire Communication. Oh my Friend, am I the better for being sensible of this; or am I the

worse? I am doubtless much the better. I am consolated and honoured in the sorrow for his death. Is it not a pious and a pleasing Office of my Life to be always upon my Friends Obse∣quies? Can there be any joy equal to this Pri∣vation? I open my self to my Family, as much as I can, and very willingly let them know, in what estate they are in my opinion and good will, as I do every body else. I make haste to bring out, and expose my self to them; for I will not have them mistaken in me in any thing. Amongst other particular Customs of our an∣cient Gauls, this, as Caesar reports, was one,* 1.92 That the Sons never presented themselves be∣fore their Fathers, nor durst never appear in their company in publick, till they began to bear Arms; as if they would intimate by that, that it was also time for their Fathers to receive them into their familiarity and acquaintance. I have observ'd yet another sort of Indiscretion in Fathers of my time, That, not contented with having depriv'd their Children, during their own long lives, of the share they naturally ought to have had in their Fortunes, they af∣terwards leave to their Wives the same Autho∣rity over their Estates, and Liberty to dispose of them according to their own fancy: And have known a certain Lord one of the principal Offi∣cers of the Crown, who having in his prospect, by right of succession, above Fifty thousand Crowns yearly Revenue, died necessitous, and overwhelm'd with debt, at above fifty years of age; his Mother in his extreamest decrepitude,

and necessity, being yet in possession of all his Goods, by the Will of his Father, who had, for his part, liv'd till near Fourscore years Old. This appears by no means reasonable to me: And therefore I think it of very little advan∣tage to a man, whose Affairs are well enough, to seek a Wife that will charge his Estate with too great a Joynture: There being no sort of foreign Debt or Encumbrance, that brings great∣er and more frequent ruin to Estates and Fa∣milies, than that. My Predecessors have ever been aware of that danger, and provided against it, and so have I: But these who dissuade us from rich Wives, for fear they should be less tractable and kind, are out in their Advice, to make a man lose a real Convenience for so fri∣volous a Conjecture. It costs an unreasonable Woman no more to pass over one Reason, than another. They love but where they have the most wrong. Injustice allures them, as the Honour of their vertuous Actions does the good; and the more Riches they bring with them, they are by so much the more gentle, and sweet Natur'd; as women who are fair, are more inclin'd, and proud to be chast. 'Tis reasonable to leave the administration of Affairs to the Mothers, during the minority of the Children; but the Father has brought them up very ill, if he cannot hope, that when they come to Maturity, they will have more Wis∣dom and Dexterity in the management of Af∣fairs, than his Wife, considering the ordinary Weakness of the Sex. It were notwithstanding,

to say the truth, more against Nature, to make the Mothers depend upon the Discretion of their Children: They ought to be plentifully provided for, to maintain themselves according to their Quality and Age, by reason that Ne∣cessity is much more indecent and insupporta∣ble to them, than to men; and therefore the Son is rather to be cut short, than the Mother. In general, the most judicious Distribution of our Goods, when we come to dye, is, in my Opi∣nion, to let them be distributed according to the Custom of the Country. The Laws have considered it better than we know how to do, and 'tis better to let them fail in their Election, than rashly to run the hazard of miscarrying in ours. Neither are they properly ours, since, by a Civil Prescription, and without us, they are all judg'd to certain Successors. And al∣though we have some liberty beyond that, yet I think we ought not, without great and manifest cause, to take away that from one which his Fortune has allotted him, and to which the pub∣lick Equity gives him Title; and that it is against reason to abuse this liberty, in making it to serve our own frivilous and private Fancies. My Destiny has been kind to me, in not prevent∣ing me with Occasions to tempt and divert my Affection from the common and legitimate In∣stitution. I see well enough, with whom 'tis time lost, to employ a long Diligence of Good Offices: A word ill taken obliterates ten years merit; and he is happy, who is in place to oyle their Good Will at this last Passage. The

last Action carries it: Not the best, and most frequent Offices, but the most recent and pre∣sent do the Work. These are people that play with their Wills, as with Apples and Rods, to gratifie or chastise every Action of these, that pretend to an Interest in their Care. 'Tis a thing of too great weight and consequence, to be so tumbled and tost, and alter'd every mo∣ment: And wherein the Wise men of the World determin once for all, having therein above all things, a regard to reason, and the publick observance. We also lay these Masculine Sub∣stitutions too much to heart, proposing a ridi∣culous Eternity to our Names. And are more∣over too superstitious in the vain Conjectures of the future, which we derive from the little Observations we make of the Words and Actions of Children. Peradventure they might have done me an injustice, in dispossessing me of my Right, for having been the most dull and hea∣vy, the most slow and unwilling at my Book, not of all my Brothers only, but of all the Boys in the whole Province: Whether about learn∣ing my Lesson, or any other bodily Exercise. 'Tis a folly to make an extraordinary Election upon the Credit of these Divinations, wherein we are so often deceived. If the Rule of Primo∣geniture were to be violated, and the Desti∣nies corrected in the Choice they have made of our Heirs, one might more plausibly do it up∣on the account of some enormous personal De∣formity; a constant and incorrigible Vice, and in the opinion of us French, who are great ad∣mirers

of Beauty of important prejudice. The pleasant Dialogue betwixt Plato's Legislator, and his Citizens, will be an Ornament to this place. What, said they, feeling themselves a∣bout to dye, may we not dispose of our own to whom we please? Good God, what cruelty! That it shall not be lawful for us, according as we have been serv'd and attended in our Sick∣ness, in our Old Age, and other Affairs, to give more or less to those whom we have found most diligent about us, at our own Fancy and Discretion! To which the Legislator answers thus; My Friends, who are now without que∣stion, very soon to dye, it is hard for you in the Condition you are, either to know your selves; or what is yours, according to the Del∣phick Inscription. I, who make the Laws, am of opinion, that you neither are your selves your own, neither is that yours of which you are possest. Both your Goods, and you belong to your Families, as well those past, as those to come; but yet both your Family and Goods do much more appertain to the publick. Where∣fore lest any Flatterer in your Age, or in your Sickness, or any Passion of your own, should unseasonably prevail with you to make an un∣just Will, I shall take care to prevent that incon∣venience. But having respect both to the uni∣versal Interest of the City, and that of your particular Family, I shall establish Laws, and make it by lively Reasons appear, that a parti∣cular Convenience ought to give place to the common Benefit. Go then chearfully where

Humane Necessity calls you. It belongs to me, who have no more respect to one thing than another; and who, as much as in me lies, am careful of the publick Concern, to take care of what you leave behind you.

To return to my Subject; It appears to me that such women are very rarely born, to whom the Prerogative over men, in others excepted, is in any sort due; unless it be for the Punish∣ment of such, as in some lustful Humour, have voluntarily submitted themselves to them: but that does nothing concern the Old ones, of which we are now speaking. This Considera∣tion it is, which has made us so willingly to forge, and give force to a Law, which was never yet see•• by any one;* 1.93 and by which, wo∣men are excluded the Succession to this Crown: and there is hardly a Government in the World where it is not pleaded, as 'tis here, by meer reason of the thing that gives it Authority, though Fortune has given it more Credit in some places, than in others. 'Tis dangerous to leave the disposal of our Succession to their Judgment, according to the Choice they shall make of Children, which is often fantastick and unjust; for the irregular Appetite and depreav'd Tast they have, during the time of their being with Child, they have at all other times in the mind. We commonly see them fond of the most weak, ricketty, and deform'd Children; or of those, if they have such, as are hanging at their Breasts. For not having sufficient force of rea∣son to choose and embrace that which is most

worthy, they the more willingly suffer them∣selves to be carried away, where the impres∣sions of Nature are most alone: Like Animals that know their Young no longer than they give them suck. As to what remains, it is easie by experience to be discern'd, that this Natural Affection to which we give so great Authority, has but a very weak and shallow Root. For a very little profit we every day ravish their own Children out of the Mothers Arms, and make them take ours in their room: We make them abandon their own to some pitiful Nurse, to which we disdain to commit ours, or to some Shee Goat; forbidding them, not only to give them suck, what danger soever they run there∣by, but moreover, to take any manner of care of them, that they may wholly be taken up with the care of, and attendance upon ours. And we see in most of them an adulterate Af∣fection, begot by Custom, toward the faster Children, more vehement than the Natural; and a greater Solicitude for the Preservation of those they have taken charge of, than their own. And that which I was saying of Goats, was up∣on this account; that it is ordinary, all about where I live, to see the Country-women, when they want▪ Suck of their own, to call Goats to their assistance. And I have, at this hour, two Foot-men that never suck't womans Milk more than eight days after they were born.* 1.94 These Goats are immediately taught to come to suckle the little Children, will know their Voices when they cry, and come running to them;

when if any other than that they are acquanted with be presented to them, they refuse to let it suck, and the Child, to another Goat, will do the same. I saw one the other day, from whom they had taken away the Goat that us'd to nou∣rish it, by reason the Father had only borrow'd it of a Neighbour; that would not touch any other they could bring, and doubtless dyed of hunger. Beasts do as easily alter and corrupt their Natural Affection as we: I believe that in what Herodotus relates of a certain place of Lybia; there are very many mistake; he says, that the women are there in common; but that the Child so soon as it can go, finds him out in the Crowd for his Father, to whom he is first led by his Natural Inclination. Now, to consider this simple reason for loving our Children, for having begot them, therefore calling them our Second selves: It appears, methinks, that there is another kind of Production proceeding from us, that should no less recommend them to our Love: For that which we engender by the Soul, the issue of our Understandings, Courage and Abilities, spring from nobler Parts than those of the Body, and that are much more our own. We are both Father and Mother in this Genera∣tion; these cost us a great deal more, and brings us more Honour, if they have any thing of good in them. For the Value of our other Chil∣dren is much more theirs, than ours; the share we have in them is very little; but of these, all the Beauty, all the Grace and Value is ours; as also they more lively represent and resemble

us, than the rest. Plato adds, that these are immortal Children,* 1.95 that immortalize and deify their Fathers, as Lycurgus, Solon and Minos. Now Histories being full of Examples of the common Affection of Fathers to their Children, it seems not altogether improper, to introduce some few, also of this other kind. Heliodorus that good Bishop of Tricea,* 1.96 rather chose to lose the Dignity, Profit and Devotion of so Ve∣nerable a Prelacy, than to lose his Daughter; a Daughter that continues to this day very Graceful and Comely; but notwithstanding, per∣adventure a little too curiously and wantonly trick't, and too amorous for an Ecclesiastical and Sacerdotal Daughter. There has been one Labienus at Rome, a Man of great Valour and Authority; and, amongst other good Qualities, excellent in all sorts of Literature; who was, as I take it, the Son of that great Labienus, the chiefest of Caesar's Captains in the Wars of Gaule; and who, afterwards siding with Pompey the Great, so valiantly maintained his Cause, till he was by Caesar defeated in Spain. This La∣bienus of whom I am now speaking, had several Enemies, who were emulous of his Vertue; and 'tis likely the Courtiers and Minions of the Em∣perour of his time, who were very angry at, and displeas'd with his Freedom, and Paternal Humours, which he yet retain'd against Ty∣ranny, with which it is to be suppos'd, he had tincted his Books and Writings. His Adversa∣ries before the Magistracy of Rome, prosecuted several Pieces he had publish't, and prevail'd so

far against him, as to have them condemn'd to the Fire. It was in him that this new Exam∣ple of Punishment was begun, which was af∣terwards continued against several others at Rome, to punish even Writing, and Studies with Death. There would not be means and mat∣ter enough of Cruelty, did we not mix with them things, that Nature has exempted from all Sense and Suffering; as Reputation, and the Products of Wit; and communicate Corporal Punishments to the Learning and Monuments of the Muses. Now Labienus could not suffer this loss, nor survive these his so dear Issue; and therefore caus'd himself to be convey'd and shut up alive in the Monument of his Ancestors, where he made shift to kill, and bury himself at once. 'Tis hard to shew a more violent Pa∣ternal Affection, than this. Cassius Severus a Man of great Eloquence, and his very intimate Friend, seeing his Books burnt, cry'd out, That by the same Sentence they should as well con∣demn him to the Fire too, being that he car∣ried in his Memory all that they contain'd. The like Accident befel Geruntius Cordus,* 1.97 who being accus'd for having in his Books com∣mended Brutus and Cassius; that dirty, servile, and degenerated Senate, and worthy a worse Master than Tiberius, condemned his Writings to the Flame. He was willing to bear them Company, and kil'd himself with Fasting. The good Lucan being condemn'd by that Beast Nero, at the last gasp of his Life, when the greater part of his Blood was already gone by the Veins

of his Arms, which he had caus'd his Physitian to open to make him dye, and that the cold had seiz'd of all his Extremities, and began to approach his Vital Parts; the last thing he had in his Memory, was some of the Verses of his Battle of Pharsalia, which he repeated, and and dyed with them in his Mouth. What was this but taking a Tender and Paternal Leave of his Children, in imitation of the Valedictions and Embraces wherewith we part with ours, when we come to dye; and an effect of that Natural Inclination, that suggests to our remem∣brance in this Extremity, those things which were dearest to us during the time of our Life? Can we believe that Epicurus, who, as he says himself, dying of intolerable Pains of the Chol∣lick, had all his Consolation in the Beauty of the Doctrine he left behind him, could have re∣ceived the same satisfaction from many Chil∣dren, though never so well educated, had he had them, as he did from the issue of so many rich and admirable Writings? Or that, had it been in his choice to have left behind him a de∣form'd and untoward Child, or a foolish and ridiculous Book, he, or any other Man of his Understanding would not rather have chose to have run the first Misfortune than the other? It had been (for example) peradventure, an Impiety in St. Austin, if on the one hand, it had been propos'd to him to bury his Writings, from which Religion has receiv'd so great Advantage; or on the other, to bury his Children, had he had them, had he not rather chose to bury his

Children had he had them, had he not rather chose to bury his Children. And I know not whether I had not much rather have begot a very Beautiful one, thorough my Society with the Muses, than by lying with my Wife. To this, such as it is, what I give it, I give abso∣lutely and irrevocably, as Men do to their bo∣dily Children. That little I have done for it, is no more at my own dispose. It may know many things that are gone from me, and from me keep that which I have not retain'd: And that, as a Stranger, I might borrow thence, should I stand in need. If I am wiser than my Book, it is richer than I. There are few Men addict∣ed to Poetry, who would not be much Prouder to be Father to the Aeneid, than to the hansom∣est and best fashion'd Youth of Rome, and that would not much better bear the loss of the one than the other. For according to Aristotle, the Poet, of all sorts of Artificers, is the fondest of his Work. 'Tis hard to believe that Epaminon∣das, who boasted, that in lieu of all Posterity, he left two Daughters behind him, which would one day do their Father Honour (meaning the two Victories he obtain'd over the Lacedemoni∣ans) would willingly have consented to exchange those, for the most Beautiful Creature of all Greece: Or that Alexander, or Caesar ever wish't to be depriv'd of the Grandeur of their Glorious Exploits in War, for the conveniency of Chil∣dren and Heirs, how perfect and accomplish't soever. Nay, I make a great Question, whe∣ther Phidias, or any other excellent Statuary,

would be so solicitous of the Preservation and Continuance of his Natural Children, as he would be of a rare Statue, which with long labour and study, he had perfected according to Art. And to those furious and irregular Passions that have sometimes flam'd in Fathers towards their own Daughters, and in Mothers towards their own Sons; the like is also found in this other sort of Parentry: Witness what is related of Pygmalion, who having made the Sta∣tue of a Woman of singular Beauty, fell so pas∣sionately in love with this Work of his, that the Gods, in favour of his Passion, must inspire it with Life.

Tentatum mollescit ebur, positóque rigore,* 1.98 Subsidit digitis.

The tempted Ivory Pliant grows, and now, Under his wanton Touch, does yield and bow.

CHAP. IX. Of the Arms of the Parthians.

'TIs an ill custom, and a little unmanly, the Gentlemen of our time have got, not to put on their Arms, but just upon the point of the most extream necessity; and to lay them by again, so soon as ever there is any shew of the Danger being a little over; from whence many Disorders arise: For every one bustling and run∣ning

to his Arms just when he should go to Charge, has his Cuirass to buckle on, when his Companions are already put to rout. Our An∣cestors were wont to give their Head-piece, Lance and Gantlets to carry, but never put off the other Pieces so long as there was any work to be done. Our Troops are now comber'd and render'd unsightly, with the clutter of Bag∣gage and Servants, that cannot be from their Masters,* 1.99 by reason they carry their Arms. Titus Livius speaking of our Nation, Intolerantissima Laboris Corpora vix Arma Humeris gerebant. Their Bodies were so impatient of Labour, that they could scarce endure to wear their Arms. Many Nations do yet, and did antiently, go to War without Defensive Arms; or such, at least, as were of very little proof.

* 1.100Tegmina queis Capitum raptus de Subere Cortex.

For Helmets they their Temples only bind With a light Scull, made of the Cork-tree Rind.

Alexander, the most adventurous Captain that ever was, very seldom wore Arms, and such amongst us as slight them, do not by that much harm to the main Concern; for if we see some kil'd for want of them, there are few less whom the lumber of Arms helps to destroy, either by being over-burthen'd, crush't and cramp't with their weight by a rude Shock, or otherwise. For, in plain truth, to observe the weight and thickness of those we have now in use, it seems,

as if we only pretend to defend our selves, and that we are rather loaded, than secured by them. We have enough to do to support their weight, being so manacled, and immur'd, as if we were only to contend with our own Arms; and as if we had not the same Obligation to defend them, that they have to defend us. Tacitus gives a pleasant Description of the Men at Arms of our ancient Gauls; so armed, as only to be able to move, without power to offend, or possibility to be offended, or to rise again when once beaten down. Lucullus seeing certain Soldiers of the Medes, that made the Front of Tigranes his Ar∣my, heavily arm'd, and very uneasie, as if in Prisons of Iron, from thence conceiv'd hopes, with great ease to defeat them; and by them began his Charge, and Victory. And now that our Musqueteers are come into Credit, I believe some Invention will be found out to immure us for our Safety, and to draw us to the War in Sconces, such as those the Ancients loaded their Elephants withall. This Humour is far diffe∣ring from that of the younger Scipio, who sharp∣ly reprehended his Soldiers, for having planted Caltrops under Water, in a Graff, by which those of the Town he held besieged might sally out upon him; saying, That those who assaul∣ted should think of attacking, and not to fear; suspecting, with good reason, that this stop they had put to the Enemies, would make them less vigilant upon their Duty. He said also to a young Man, shewing him a fine Buckler he had, that he was very proud of, It is a very

fine Buckler indeed, but a Roman Soldier ought to repose greater Confidence in his Right Hand, than his Left.

Now 'tis nothing but the not being us'd to wear them, that makes the weight of our Arms so intolerable.

L'husbergo in dolle haveano, & belmo in testa, * 1.101Due di quelli guerrier di quali je canto. Ne notte o di doppo ch'entraro in questa Stanza, gl'haveano mai mesi da canto, Che facile a portar comme la vesta Era lor, perche in uso l'avean tanto.

Two of these Hero's, that I name, had on Each his bright Helm, and strong Habergeon, And Night nor Day, not one poor Minutes space, Once laid them by, whilst here they were in place. Those heavy Arms, by a long practice, were So very easie grown, and light to bear.

* 1.102The Emperor Caracalla was wont continual∣ly to march on foot, compleatly arm'd, at the Head of his Army. The Roman Infantry always carried not only a Morion, a Sword, and a Shield; for as to Arms, says Cicero, they were so accustomed to have them always on, that they were no more trouble to them, than their own Limbs: Arma enim, membra militis esse di∣cunt;* 1.103 but moreover, fifteen days Provision, to∣gether with a certain number of Piles, or Stakes, wherewith to fortifie their Camp, to sixty pounds weight. And Marius his Soldiers, loa∣den

at the same rate, were inur'd to march in Battalia five Leagues in five hours; and some∣times, upon any urgent occasion, six. Their Military Discipline was much ruder than ours, and accordingly produced much greater effects. The younger Scipio, reforming his Army in Spain, ordered his Soldiers to eat standing, and nothing that was drest. The Jeer that was gi∣ven a Lacedemonian Soldier, is marvellously pat upon this account, who, in an Expedition of War, was reproached to have been seen under the Roof of a House: They were so inur'd to Hardship, that, let the Weather be what it would, it was a shame to be seen under any other Cover than the Roof of Heaven. We should not march our People very far at that rate. As to what remains, Marcellinus, a Man bred up in the Roman Wars, does curiously ob∣serve the manner of the Parthians arming them∣selves; and the rather, for being so different from that of the Romans. They had, says he, Arms so artificially woven,* 1.104 as to have the Scollops fall o∣ver one another like so many little Feathers; which did nothing hinder the Motion of the Body, and yet were of such Resistance, that our Darts hitting upon them, would rebound: (Which were the Coates of Male our Fore-Fathers were so con∣stantly wont to use.) And in another place; They had (says he) strong and able Horses, cove∣red with thick tann'd Hides of Leather, and were themselves armed Cap a Pie with great Plates of Iron, so artificially ordered, that in all parts of the Limbs, which required bending, they assisted

Motion. One would have said, that they had been Men of Iron; having Arms for the Head so neatly fitted, and so naturally representing the form of a Face, that they were no where vulnerable, save at two little round Holes, that gave them a little Light; and certain small Chinks about their Mouth, and Nostrils, through which they did, with great difficulty, breath.

Flexilis inductis animatur lamina membris, * 1.105Horribilis visu, credas simulacra moveri Ferrea, cognatoque viros spirare metallo. Par vestitus equis, ferrata fronte minantur, Ferratosque movent securi vulneris armos.

Stiff Plates of Steel over the Body laid, By Armorers Skill, so flexible were made, That, dreadful to be seen, you would think these Not living Men, but moving Images: The Horse, like-arm'd, Spikeswore in Fronts above And fearless, on their Iron Shoulders move.

A Description very near resembling the Equi∣page of the Men at Arms in France, with their Barded Horses. Plutarch says, that Demetrius caused two compleat Suits of Arms to be made for himself, and for Alcinus, a Captain of the greatest Note and Authority about him, of six score Pounds weight each, whereas the ordina∣ry Suits weighed but half so much.

CHAP. X. Of Books.

I Make no doubt, but that I oft happen to speak of things that are much better, and more truly handled by those who are Masters of the Trade. This here is purely an Essay of my Natural Parts, and not of those acquired: and whoever shall take me tripping in my Ig∣norance, will not in any sort displease me; for I should be very unwilling to become re∣sponsible to another for my Writings, who am not so to my self, nor satisfied with them. Who∣ever goes in quest of Knowledge, let him fish for it where it is to be found; there is nothing I so little profess. These are Fancies of my own, by which I do not pretend to discover things, but to lay open my self: They may, peradventure, one day be known to me, or have formerly been, according as my Fortune has been able to bring me in place where they have been explained; but I have utterly forgot them: and if I am a Man of some Reading, I am a Man of no Retension: So that I can promise no Certainty, if not to make known to what certain Mark the Knowledge I now have does rise. Therefore let no Body insist upon the Matter I write, but my Method in writing. Let them observe in what I borrow, if I have known how to chuse what is proper to raise, or releive the Invention, which is always my own.

For I make others say for me, what, either for want of Language, or want of Sense, I cannot my self well express. I do not number my Bor∣rowings, I weigh them. And had I designed to raise their Estimate by their Number, I had made them twice as many. They are all, or within a very few, so fam'd and ancient Au∣thors, that they seem, methinks, themselves sufficiently to tell who they are, without giving me the trouble. In Reasons, Comparisons and Arguments, if I transplant any into my own Soil, and confound them amongst my own, I purposely conceal the Author, to awe the Te∣merity of those precipitous Censures, that fall upon all sorts of Writings; particularly, the late ones, of Men yet living, and in the Vulgar Tongue, which put every one into a Capacity of Censuring, and which seem to convince the Authors themselves of Vulgar Conception and Design. I will have them wound Plutarch through my Sides, and rail against Seneca when they think they rail at me. I must shelter my own Weakness under these great Reputations; I shall love any one that can plume me, that is, by Clearness of Understanding and Judgment, and by the sole Distinction of the Force and Beauty of Discourse. For I, who, for want of Memory, am at every turn at a loss to pick them out of their National Livery, am yet wise enough to know, by the Measure of my own Abilities, that my Soil is incapable of producing any of those rich Flowers, that I there find set, and growing; and that all the Fruits of my own

Growth are not worth any one of them. For this, indeed, I hold my self very responsible, though the Confession makes against me; if there be any Vanity and Vice in my Writings, which I do not of my self perceive, nor can dis∣cern, when pointed out to me by another; for many Faults escape the Eye, but the Infirmity of Judgment consists in not being able to dis∣cern them, when, by another, laid open to us. Knowledge and Truth may be in us without Judgment, and Judgment also without them; but the Confession of Ignorance is one of the fairest and surest Testimonies of Judgment that I know: I have no other Officer to put my Writings in Rank and File, but only Fortune. As things come into my head, I heap them one upon ano∣ther, which sometimes advance in whole Bodies, sometimes in single Files: I am content that every one should see my natural and ordinary Pace, as ill as it is. I suffer my self to jog on, at my own rate and ease. Neither are these Subjects, which a Man is not permitted to be ignorant in, or casually, and at a venture, to discourse of. I could wish to have a more per∣fect Knowledge of things, but I will not buy it so dear as it will cost. My design is to pass over easily, and not laboriously, the Remain∣der of my Life. There is nothing that I will cudgel my Brains about; no, not Knowledge, of what price soever. I seek, in the reading of Books, only to please my self, by an irre∣proachable Divertion: Or if I study, 'tis for no other Science, than what treats of the

Knowledge of my self, and instructs me how to dye, and live well.

* 1.106Has meus ad metas sudet oportet equus.

—I to this only Course Train up, and in it only breath my Horse.

I do not bite my Nails about the Difficulties I meet with in my Reading; after a Charge, or two, I give them over. Should I insist upon them, I should both lose my self, and time; for I have an impatient Understanding, that must be satisfied at first: What I do not discern at first, is, by Persistency, rendred more ob∣scure. I do nothing without Gayety; Conti∣nuation, and a too obstinate Endeavour, dar∣kens, stupifies and tires my Judgment. My Sight is confounded and dissipated with poring; I must withdraw it, and refer my Discovery to new Attempts: Just, as to judge rightly of the Lustre Scarlet, we are taught to pass it lightly with the Eye, in running it over at several sud∣dain and reiterated Views and Glances. If one Book do not please me, I take another, and ne∣ver meddle with any, but at such times as I am weary of doing nothing. I care not much for new ones, because the old seem fuller, and of stronger Reason; neither do I much tamper with Greek Authors, my Knowledge in that Language being too little to read them with any delight. Amongst those that are simply plea∣sant, of the Moderns, Boccace his Decameron,

Rabelais, and the Bassa of Johannes Secundus (if those may be ranged under that Title) are worth Reading. As to Amadis de Gaule, and such kind of stuff, they had not the Credit to take me, so much as in my Childish Years. And I will moreover say (whether boldly, or rashly) that this old, heavy Soul of mine is now no longer delighted with Ariosto; no, nor with Ovid; and that his Facility and Invention, with which I was formerly so ravished, are now of no more Relish, and I can hardly have the patience to read him. I speak my Opinion free∣ly of all things, even of those that, perhaps, exceed my Capacity, and that I do not conceive to be, in any wise, under my Jurisdiction. And accordingly, the Judgment I deliver, is to shew the Measure of my own Sight, and not of the things I make so bold to censure: When I find my self disgusted with Plato's Axiochus, as with a Work (with due Respect to such an Author be it spoken) without force, my Judgment does not believe it self: It is not so arrogant as to oppose the Authority of so many other fa∣mous Judgments of Antiquity, which it consi∣ders as its Regents and Masters, and with whom it is rather content to err. In such a Case, it condemns it self, either for stopping at the out∣ward Bark, not being able to penetrate to the Heart, or for considering it by some false Light, and is content with securing it self from Trouble and Error only; and, as to its own Weakness, does frankly acknowledge and confess it. It thinks it gives a just Interpretation, according

to the Appearances, by its Conceptions presen∣ted to it; but they are weak and imperfect. Most of the Fables of Aesop have in them seve∣ral Senses and Meanings, of which, the Mytho∣logists chose some one, that quadrates well to the Fable; but, for the most part, 'tis but the first Face that presents it self, and is Superficial only: There yet remain others more lively, es∣sential and profound, into which they have not been able to penetrate; and just so do I.

But, to pursue the business of this Essay, I have always thought, that in Poesie, Virgil, Lucretius, Catullus and Horace do many degrees excel the rest; and signally, Virgil in his Geor∣gicks, which I look upon for the most accom∣plished piece of Poetry; and, in comparison of which, a Man may easily discern, that there are some places in his Aeneids,* 1.107 to which the Au∣thor would have given a little more of the File, had he had leisure: and the fith Book of his Aeneids seems to me the most perfect. I also love Lucan,* 1.108 and willingly read him; not so much for his Style, as for his own Worth, and the Truth and Solidity of his Opinions and Judgments.* 1.109 As for Terence, I find the Queint∣ness and Eloquencies of the Latin Tongue so ad∣mirable lively to represent our Manners, and the Movements of the Soul, that our Actions throw me, at every turn, upon him; and can∣not read him so oft, that I do not still discover some new Grace and Beauty. Such as liv'd near Virgil's time, were scandalized, that some should compare him with Lucretius.* 1.110 I am, I

confess, of Opinion, that the Comparison is, in truth, very unequal; a Belief that, never∣theless, I have much ado to assure my self in, when I meet with some excellent Passages in Lucretius. But if they were so angry at this Comparison, what would they have said of the Brutish and Barbarous Stupidity of those, who, at this Hour, compare him with Ariosto? Or would not Ariosto himself say?

O Seclum insipiens, & infacetum!* 1.111

I think the Ancients had more reason to be an∣gry with those who compared Plautus with Te∣rence, than Lucretius with Virgil. It makes much for the Estimation and Preference of Te∣rence, that the Father of the Roman Eloquence has him so often in his Mouth; and the Sen∣tence, that the best Judge of Roman Poets has pass'd upon the other. I have often observed, that those of our times, who take upon them to write Comedies (in imitation of the Italians, who are happy enough in that way of Writing) take in three or four Arguments of those of Plautus, or Terence, to make one of theirs,* 1.112 and crowd five or six of Boccace his Novels, into one single Comedy. And that which makes them so load themselves with Matter, is the Diffi∣dence they have of being able to support them∣selves with their own Strength. They must find out something to lean to; and having not of their own wherewith to entertain the Audience, bring in the Story, to supply the defect of Lan∣guage.

It is quite otherwise with my Author; the Elegancy and Perfection of his way of Speaking, makes us lose the Appetite of his Plot. His fine Expression, Elegancy and Queint∣ness is every where Taking: He is so pleasant throughout.

Liquidus, puroque simillimus amni.

Liquid, and like a Crystal running Stream.

And does so possess the Soul with his Graces, that we forget those of his Fable. This very Consideration carries me further: I observe, that the best and most ancient Poets have avoi∣ded the Affectation, and hunting after, not on∣ly of fantastick Spanish, and Petrarchick Eleva∣tions, but even the softest, and most gentle Touches, which are the only Ornaments of succeeding Poesie. And yet there is no good Judgment that will condemn this in the An∣cients, and that does not incomparably more admire the equal Politeness, and that perpetual Sweetness, and flourishing Beauty, that appears in Catullus his Epigrams,* 1.113 than all the Stings with which Martial arms the Tails of his. This is by the same Reason that I gave before, and as Martial says of himself; Minus illi inge∣nio laborandum fuit, in cujus locum materia succes∣serat. These first, without being mov'd, or making themselves angry, make themselves suf∣ficiently felt; they have matter enough of Laughter throughout, they need not tickle

themselves: The others have need of Foreign Assistance; as they have the less Wit, they must have the more Body; they mount on Horseback, because they are not able to stand on their own Legs. As in our Balls, those mean Fellows that teach to dance, not being able to represent the Presence and Decency of our Nobleness, are fain to supply it with dan∣gerous Leaps, and other strange Motions, and fantastick Tricks. And the Ladies are less put to it in Dances, where there are several Coupees, Changes, and quick Motions of Body, than in some other of a more solemn kind, where they are only to move a natural Pace, and to repre∣sent their ordinary Grace and Presence. And, as I have also seen good Tumblers, when in their own Every-day-Cloaths, and with the same Face they always wear, give us all the pleasure of their Art, when their Apprentices, not yet arrived to such a pitch of Perfection, are fain to meal their Faces, put themselves in∣to ridiculous Disguises, and make a hundred Mimick Faces, to prepare us for Laughter. This Conception of mine is no where more de∣monstrable, than in comparing the Aeneid with Orlando Furioso; of which, we see the first, by Dint of Wing, flying in a brave and lofty Place, and always following his Point; the lat∣ter, fluttering and hopping from Tale to Tale, as from Branch to Branch, not daring to trust his Wings but in very short Flights, and pearching at every turn, lest his Breath and Force should fail.

Excursusque breves tentat.* 1.114

These then, as to this sort of Subjects, are the Authors that best please me. As to what con∣cerns my other Reading that mixes a little more Profit with the Pleasure, and from whence I learn how to marshal my Opinions and Quali∣ties; the Books that serve me to this purpose, are Plutarch (since translated into French) and Seneca:* 1.115 Both of which have this great conve∣nience suited to my Humour, that the Know∣ledge I there seek, is discoursed in loose pieces, that do not engage me in any great trouble of reading long, of which I am impatient. Such are the Opusculums of the first, and the Epistles of the latter, which are also the best, and most profiting of all their Writings. 'Tis no great attempt to take one of them in hand, and I give over at pleasure; for they have no sequele or de∣pendance upon one another. These Authors, for the most part, concur in useful and true Opi∣nions: And there is this Parallel betwixt them, That Fortune brought them into the World a∣bout the same Age: They were both Tutors to two Roman Emperours: Both sought out from foreign Countries: Both Rich, and both Great Men. Their Instruction is the Cream of Phy∣losophy, and deliver'd after a plain and perti∣nent manner. Plutarch is more uniform and constant; Seneca more various and waving. The last toil'd, set himself, and bent his whole Force to fortifie Vertue against Frailty, Fear and Vi∣tious Appetites: The other seems more to slight their Power, and to disdain to alter his Pace, and to stand upon his Guard. Plutarch's Opinions

are Platonick, sweet, and accommodated to Ci∣vil Society: Those of the other are Stoical and Epicurean, more remote from the common Usance; but, in my Opinion, more especially proper, and more firm. Seneca seems to lean a little to the Tyranny of the Emperours of his time, and only seems; for I take it for gran∣ted, that he speak against his Judgment, when he condemns the Generous Action of those who assassinated Caesar. Plutarch is frank through∣out. Seneca abounds with brisk Touches and Sallies: Plutarch with things that heats and moves you more; this contents and pays you better. This guides us, the other pushes us on. As to Cicero, those of his Works that are most useful to my Design, are they that treat of Phy∣losophy, especially Moral: But boldly to confess the truth, his way of Writing, and that of all other Long-winded Authors, appears to me ve∣ry tedious: For his Prefaces, Definitions, Di∣visions and Etimologies take up the greatest part of his Work:* 1.116 Whatever there is of Life and Marrow, is smother'd and lost in the Prepara∣tion. When I have spent an hour in reading him (which is a great deal for me) and recol∣lect what I have thence extracted of Juice and Substance; for the most part I find nothing but Wind; for he is not yet come to the Arguments that serve to his purpose, and the Reasons that should properly help to loose the Knot I would untye. For me, who only desire to become more Wise, not more Learned or Eloquent, these Logical or Aristotelian Dispositions of Parts

are of no use. I would have a Man begin with the main Proposition, and that wherein the force of the Argument lies: I know well enough what Death and Pleasure are, let no Man give himself the trouble to anatomize them to me; I look for good and solid Reasons at the first dash to instruct me how to stand the Shock, and resist them; to which purpose, neither Grammatical Subtilties, nor the queint Contexture of Words and Argumentations are of any use at all: I am for Discourses that gives the first Charge into the Heart of the Doubt; his languish about his Subjects, and delay our Expectation. Those are proper for the Schools, for the Bar, and for the Pulpit, where we have leisure to nod, and may awake a quarter of an hour after time enough to find again the Thread of the Discourse. It is necessary to speak after this manner to Judges, whom a Man has a De∣sign, Right or Wrong, to encline to favour his Cause, to Children and Common-people; to whom a Man must say all he can, and try what effects his Eloquence can produce. I would not have an Author make it his business to render me attentive: Or that he should cry out fifty times, Oyez, as the Clerks and Heralds do. The Romans in their Religious Exercises, began with Hoc age: As we in ours do with Sursum corda, which are so many words lost to me: I come thither already fully prepared from my Chamber, I need no Allurement, no Invitation, no Sauce; I eat the Meat Raw, so that, instead of whetting my Appetite by these Preparatives,

they tire, and pall it. Will the License of the time excuse the Sacrilegious Boldness to censure the Dialogisms of Plato himself,* 1.117 for as dull and heavy as the other before nam'd, whilst he too much stifles his Matter? And to lament so much time lost by a Man who had so many better things to say, in so many long and needless Preliminary Interlocutions? My Ignorance will better excuse me in that, I understand not Greek so well, as to discern the Beauty of his Language. I would generally chuse Books that use Sciences, not such as only lead to them. The two first, and Pliny, and their like, have nothing of this Hoc age; they will have to do with Men al∣ready instructed; or if they have, 'tis a sub∣stantial Hoc age, and that has a Body by it self. I also delight in reading his Epistles, ad Atticum; not only because they contain a great deal of History, and the Affairs of his time; but much more because I therein discover much of his own private Humour: For I have a singular curiosi∣ty (as I have said elsewhere) to pry into the Souls, and the Natural and True Judgments of the Authors with whom I converse. A Man may indeed judge of their Parts, but not of their Manners, nor of themselves, by the Writings they expose upon the Theatre of the World. I have a thousand times lamented the loss of the Treatise Brutus writ upon Vertue; for it is best Learning the Theorie of those who best know the Practick. But seeing the thing preached, and the Preacher are different things, I would as willingly see Brutus in Plutarch, as in a Book

of his own. I would rather chuse to be cer∣tainly inform'd of the Conference he had in his Tent with some particular Friend of his the night before a Battle, than of the Harangue he made the next day to his Army; and of what he did in his Closset and his Chamber, than what he did in the Publick Place, and in the Senate. As to Cicero, I am of the common Opinion that (Learning excepted) he had no great Natural Parts. He was a good Citizen, of an affable Nature, as all fat, heavy Men, such as he was, usually are: But given to ease, and had a mighty share of Vanity and Ambition. Neither do I know how to excuse him for thinking his Poetry fit to be publish't. 'Tis no great Imperfection to make ill Verses; but it is an Imperfection, not to be able to judge how unworthy his Ver∣ses were of the Glory of his Name. For what concerns his Eloquence, that is totally out of comparison, and I believe it will never be equal'd. The younger Cicero, who resembled his Father in nothing but in Name, whilst commanding in Asia, had several Strangers one day at his Ta∣ble, and, amongst the rest, Caestius seated at the lower end, as Men often intrude to the open Tables of the Great: Cicero ask't one of the Waiters who that Man was, who presently told him his Name: But he, as one that had his Thoughts taken up with something else, and that had forgot the Answer made him, asking three or four times, over, and over again, the same Question; the Fellow, to deliver himself from so many Questions, and to make him know

him by some particular Circumstance; 'Tis that Caestius, said he, of whom it was told you, that he makes no great Account of your Fathers Elo∣quence in comparison of his own. At which, Cicero being suddenly nettled, commanded poor Caestius presently to be seiz'd, and caus'd him to be very well whip't in his own presence; a very discourteous Entertainer! Yet even amongst those, who, all things consider'd, have reputed his Eloquence incomparable; there have been some however, who have not stuck to observe some Faults in his Writing: As that Great Bru∣tus his Friend for example, who said 'twas a bro∣ken and feeble Eloquence, fractam & elumbem. The Orators also nearest to the Age wherein he liv'd, reprehended in him the Care he had of a certain long Cadence in his Periods, and parti∣cularly took notice of these Words, esse videa∣tur, which he there so oft makes use of. For my part, I better approve of a shorter Style, and that comes more roundly off. He does, though sometimes, shuffle his Parts more brisk∣ly together, but 'tis very seldom. I have my self taken notice of this one Passage, Ego vero me minus diu senem mallem, quàm esse senem,* 1.118 ante∣quam essem. The Historians are my true Pro∣vince, for they are pleasant and easie, where immediately Man in general, the Knowledge of whom I hunt after, does there appear more live∣ly and intire than any where besides: The Va∣riety and Truth of his Internal Qualities, in gross and peace-meal, the diversity of means by which he is united and knit, and the Acci∣dents

that threaten him. Now those that write Lives, by reason they insist more upon Counsels than Events, more upon what sallies from with∣in, than upon that which happens without, are the most proper for my reading; and therefore, above all others, Plutarch is the Man for me. I am very sorry we have not a dozen Laertii, or that he was not further extended, and better understood: For I am equally curious to know the Lives and Fortunes of these great Instructors of the World, as to know the Diversities of their Doctrines and Opinions. In this kind of Stu∣dy (the reading of Histories) a Man must tumble over, without distinction, all sorts of Authors, both Antick and Modern; as well Bar∣barous and Absolute, as those of current Lan∣guage, there to know the things of which they variously treat:* 1.119 But Caesar, in my Opinion, par∣ticularly deserves to be studied, not for the Knowledge of the History only, but for himself, so great an Excellence and Perfection he has a∣bove all the rest, though Salust be one of the number. In earnest, I read this Author with more reverence and respect than is usually al∣low'd to Humane Writings; one while consider∣ing him in his Person, by his Actions and mira∣culous Greatness, and another in the Purity and inimitable Neatness of his Language and Style, wherein he not only excels all other Historians, as Cicero confesses, but peradventure, even Cicero himself; speaking of his Enemies with so much Sincerity in his Judgment; that, the false Co∣lours with which he strives to palliate his ill

Cause, and the Ordure of his Pestilent Ambition excepted, I think there is no Fault to be obje∣cted against him, saving this, that he speaks too sparingly of himself, seeing so many great things could not have been perform'd under his Conduct, but that his own Personal Valour must necessarily have had a greater share in the Execution, than he attributes to himself. I love Historians, who are either very sincere, or ve∣ry excellent. The Sincere who have nothing of their own to mix with it, and who only make it their Business to make a Faithful Collection of all that comes to their Knowledge, and Faith∣fully to record all things without Choice or Pre∣judice, leaving to us the entire Judgment of discerning the Truth of things. Such, for ex∣ample amongst others, as honest Froissard, who has proceeded in his Undertaking with so frank a Plainness, that having committed an Error,* 1.120 he is not asham'd to confess, and correct it in the place where the Finger has been laid, and who represents to us even the Variety of Ru∣mours that were then spread abroad, and the different Reports that were made to him; which is the naked and unaffected Matter of History, and of which every one may make his Profit, according to his proportion of Understanding. The more excellent sort of Historians have Judg∣ment to pick out what is most worthy to be known; and, of two Reports, to examine which is the most likely to be true: From the Condi∣tion of Princes, and their Humours, they con∣clude the Counsels, and attribute to them Words

proper for the Occasion; and such have Title to assume the Authority of Regulating our Be∣lief to what they themselves believe; but cer∣tainly, this Privilege belongs not to every one. For the middle sort of Historians (of which, the most part are) they spoil all; they will chew our Meat for us, they take upon them to judge of, and consequently, to incline the Hi∣story to their own Liking; for if the Judgment partially lean to one side, a Man cannot avoid wresting and writhing his Narrative to that Byass. They undertage to chuse things worthy to be known, and yet very oft conceal from us such a Word, such a private Action, as would much better instruct us; omit, as incredible, such things as they do not understand, and per∣adventure some, because they cannot express them well in good French or Latin. Let them, in God's Name, display their Eloquence, and judge according to their own fancy: but let them, withall, leave us something to judge of after them, and neither alter, nor disguise, by their Abridgments, and at their own Choice, any thing of the substance of the Matter; but deliver it to us pure and entire in all its Dimen∣tions. For the most part, and especially in these latter Ages, Persons are cull'd out for this Wor•••• from amongst the Common-people, upon the sole Consideration of Well-speaking, as if we were to learn Grammar from thence; and the Men so chosen have also reason, being hired for no other End, and pretending to nothing but Babble, not to be very sollicitous of any part

but that, and so, with a fine Gingle of Words, prepare us a pretty Contexture of Reports, they pick up in the Streets. The only good Histo∣ries are those that have been writ by the Per∣sons themselves who commanded in the Affairs whereof they write, or who have participated in the Conduct of them, or, at least, who have had the Conduct of others of the same nature. Such almost, are all the Greek and Roma•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 For several Eye-Witnesses having writ of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Subject (in the time when Grandeur and Lear∣ning frequently met in the same Person) if there happen to be an Errour, it must of necessity be a very slight one, and upon a very doubtful Ac∣cident. What can a Man expect from a Physi∣cian, who will undertake to write of War; or from a mere Scholar, treating upon the Designs of Princes? If we could take notice how religi∣ous the Romans were in this, there would need but this Example: Asinius Pollio found in the History of Caesar himself, something mis-repor∣ted; a Mistake occasioned, either by reason he could not have his Eye in all parts of his Army at once, and had given Credit to some particu∣lar Person, who had not deliver'd him a very true Account; or else, for not having had too perfect notice given him by his Lieutenants, of what they had done in his Absence. By which we may see, whether the Inquisition after Truth be not very delicate, when a Man cannot believe the Report of a Battle from the Knowledge of him who there commanded, nor from the Sol∣diers who were engaged in it, unless, after the

Method of a Judiciary Information, the Witnes∣ses be confronted, and the Challenges received upon the Proof of the Punctillio's of every Acci∣dent. In good earnest, the Knowledge we have of our own private Affairs, is much more ob∣scure: But that has been sufficiently handled by Bodin, and according to my own Sentiment. A little to relieve the weakness of my Memory (so extream, that it has hapned to me more than once, to take Books again into my hand for new, and unseen, that I had carefully read over a few Years before, and scribled with my Notes) I have taken a Custom of late, to fix at the end of every Book (that is, of those I never intended to read again) the Time, when I made an end on't, and the Judgment I had made of it, to the end that that might, at least, represent to me the Air and general Idea, I had conceiv'd of the Au∣thor in reading it; and I will here transcribe some of those Annotations. I writ this, some ten Years ago,* 1.121 in my Guicciardin (of what Lan∣guage soever my Books speak to me in, I always speak to them in my own:) He is a diligent Hi∣storiographer, and from whom, in my Opinion, a Man may learn the truth of the Affairs of his time, as exactly as from any other; in the most of which he was himself also a personal Actor, and in honou∣rable Command. 'Tis not to be imagined, that he should have disguised any thing, either upon the ac∣count of Hatred, Favour, or Vanity; of which, the liberal Censures he passes upon the Great Ones; and particularly, those by whom he was advanced, and employed in Commands of great Trust and Honour

(as Pope Clement the Seventh) give ample Testi∣mony. As to that part, which he thinks himself the best at, namely, his Digressions and Discourses; he has, indeed, very good ones, and enrich'd with fine Expressions; but he is too fond of them: for, to leave nothing unsaid, having a Subject so plain, ample, and almost infinite, he degenerates into Pe∣dantry, and relishes a little of the Scholasting Prattle. I have also observed this in him, That of so many Souls, and so many Effects; so many Motives, and so many Counsels as he judges of, he never attributes any one to Vertue, Religion, or Conscience; as if all those were utterly extinct in the World: And of all the Actions, how brave, in outward shew, soe∣ver they appear in themselves, he always throws the Cause and Motive upon some vicious Occasion, or some prospect of Profit. It is impossible to imagine, but that, amongst such an infinite number of Actions, as he makes mention of, there must be some one pro∣duced by the way of Reason. No Corruption could so universally have infected Men, that some one would not have escaped the Contagion: Which makes me suspect, that his own Taste was vicious; from whence it might happen, that he judged other Men by himself. In my Philip de Comines, there is this written;* 1.122 You will here find the Language sweet and delightful, of a native Simplicity, the Narration pure, and wherein the Veracity of the Author does evidently shine; free from Vanity, when speaking of himself; and from Affection or Envy, when speaking of others: His Discourses and Exhortations more accompanied with Zeal and Truth, than with any exquisite Sufficiency; and

throughout, with Authority and Gravity, which speak him a Man of Extraction, and nourished up in great Affairs. Upon the Memoirs of Mon∣sieur du Bellay, I find this; 'Tis always pleasant to read things writ by those that have experimen∣ted how they ought to be carried on; but withal, it cannot be denyed but there is a manifest Deca∣dence in these two Lords from the freedom and li∣berty of Writing, that shines in the ancient Histo∣rians: Such as the Sire de Jovin-ville, a Dome∣stick to St. Louis; Eginard, Chancellor to Charle∣main; and, of latter date, in Philip de Com∣mines. This here is rather an Apology for King Francis, against the Emperor Charles the Fifth, than a History. I will not believe that they have falsified any thing, as to Matter of Fact; but they make a common practice of wresting the Judgment of Events (very often contrary to Reason) to our ad∣vantage, and of omitting whatsoever is nice to be handled in the Life of their Master; witness the Relation of Messieurs de Montmorency, and de Brion, which were here omitted: nay, so much as the very name of Madam d'Estampes is not here to to be found. Secret Actions an Historian may con∣ceal; but to pass over in silence what all the World knows, and things that have drawn after them publick Consequences, is an inexcusable defect. In fine, Whoever has a mind to have a perfect Know∣ledge of King Francis, amd the Revolutions of his Reign, let him seek it elsewhere, if my Advice may prevail. The only profit a Man can reap from hence is, from the particular Narrative of Battles, and other Exploits of War, wherein these Gentle∣men

were personally engaged; some Words, and pri∣vate Actions of the Princes of their time, and the Practices and Negotiations carried on by the Seig∣neur de Langcay; where, indeed, there are, eve∣ry where, things worthy to be known, and Discour∣ses above the vulgar Strain.

CHAP. XI. Of Cruelty.

I Fancy Vertue to be something else,* 1.123 and something more noble, than good Nature, and the meer Propension to Goodness, that we are born into the World withall. Well dispos'd, and well descended Souls pursue, indeed, the same Methods, and represent the same Face, that Vertue it self does: But the word Vertue imports, I know not what, more great, and active, than meerly for a Man to suffer himself, by a happy Disposition, to be gently and quiet∣ly drawn to the Rule of Reason. He who, by a natural Sweetness and Facility, should despise Injuries receiv'd, would, doubtless, do a very great, and a very laudable thing; but he who, provoked, and nettled to the Quick, by an Of∣fence, should fortifie himself with the Arms of Reason, against the furious Appetite of Revenge, and, after a great Conflict, master his own Pas∣sion, would, doubtless, do a great deal more. The first would do well; and the latter ver∣tuously: one Action might be called Bounty,

and the other Vertue; for, methinks, the very name of Vertue presupposes Difficulty and Con∣tention; and 'tis for this reason, perhaps, that we call God Good, Mighty, Liberal and Just; but we do not give him the Attribute of Ver∣tuous, being that all his Operations are natu∣ral,* 1.124 and without Endeavour. It has been the Opinion of many Philosophers, not only Stoicks, but Epicureans, that it is not enough to have the Soul seated in a good place, of a good tem∣per, and well disposed to Vertue. It is not enough to have our Resolutions fixed above all the power of Fortune, but that we are, more∣over, to seek occasions wherein to put it to the proof: We are to covet Pain, Necessity and Con∣tempt, to contend with them, and to keep the Soul in Breath: Multum sibi adjicit virtus laces∣sita. 'Tis one of the Reasons why Epaminondas, who was yet of a third Sect,* 1.125 refused the Riches Fortune presented to him by very lawful means; because, said he, I am to contend with Poverty: In which Extream he maintain'd himself to the last. Socrates put himself, methinks, upon a rude Tryal; keeping for his Exercise, a con∣founded scolding Wife, which was fighting at Sharp. Metellus having, of all the Senators, alone attempted, by the power of Vertue, to withstand the Violence of Saturninus, Tribune of the People at Rome, who would, by all means, cause an unjust Law to pass in favour of the Commons; and by so doing, having incurr'd the Capital Penalties that Saturninus had esta∣blished against the Dissenters, entertain'd those

who, in this Extremity led him to Execution, with words to this effect: That it was a thing too easie, and too base, to do ill; and that to do well where there was no danger, was a common thing; but that to do well where there was danger, was the proper Office of a Man of Vertue. These words of Metellus do very clearly represent to us, what I would make out; viz. That Vertue refuses Facility for a Companion; and that that easie, smooth and descending Way, by which the re∣gular Steps of a sweet Disposition of Nature are conducted, is not that of a true Vertue: She re∣quires a rough and stormy Passage; she will have either Exotick Difficulties to wrestle with, (like that of Metellus) by means whereof For∣tune delights to interrupt the Speed of her Car∣reer; or internal Difficulties, that the inordi∣nate Appetites and Imperfections of our Condi∣tion introduce to disturb her. I am come thus far at my ease; but here it comes into my head, that the Soul of Socrates,* 1.126 the most perfect that ever came to my knowledge, should, by this Rule, be of very little Recommendation; for I cannot conceive in that Person any the least Mo∣tion of a vicious Inclination: I cannot imagine there could be any Difficulty, or Constraint, in the Course of his Vertue: I know his Reason to be so powerful and soveraign over him, that she would never have suffered a vicious Appetite so much as to spring in him. To a Vertue so ele∣vated, as his, I have nothing to oppose. Me∣thinks I see him march, with a victorious and triumphant pace, in Pomp, and at his Ease,

without Opposition or Disturbance. If Vertue cannot shine bright, but by the Conflict of con∣trary Appetites, shall we then say, that she can∣not subsist without the Assistance of Vice; and that it is from her, that she derives her Reputa∣tion and Honour? What then also would be∣come of that brave and generous Epicurean Plea∣sure, which makes account that it nourishes Vertue tenderly in her Lap, and there makes it play and wanton, giving it for Toys to play withal, Shame, Fevers, Poverty, Death and Torments? If I presuppose that a perfect Ver∣tue manifests it self in Contending, in patient enduring of Pain, and undergoing the utter∣most extremity of the Gout, without being mo∣ved in her Seat; if I give her Austerity and Dif∣ficulty for her necessary Objects: what will be∣come of a Vertue elevated to such a degree, as, not only to despise Pain, but, moreover, to re∣joyce in it, and to be tickled with the Daggers of a sharp Cholick, such as the Epicureans have established, and of which, many of them, by their Actions, have given most manifest Proofs? As have several others, who I find to have sur∣passed, in effects, even the very Rules of their own Discipline:* 1.127 Witness the younger Cato; when I see him dye, and tearing out his own Bowels, I am not satisfied simply to believe, that he had then his Soul totally exempt from all Troubles and Horrour: I cannot think that he only maintained himself in the Steadiness that the Stoical Rules prescribed him; Temperate without Emotion, and imperturb'd: There was,

methinks, something in the Vertue of this Man, too spritely and youthful to stop there; I do be∣lieve that, without doubt, he felt a pleasure and delight in so noble an Action, and was more pleased in it, than in any other of his Life:* 1.128 Sic abiit è vita, ut causam moriendi nactum se esse gau∣deret. I believe so far, that I question whether he would have been content to have been de∣prived of the occasion of so brave an Execution. And if the Sincerity that made him embrace the publick Concern more than his own with∣held me not, I should easily fall into an Opinion, that he thought himself obliged to Fortune for having put his Vertue upon so brave a Tryal, and for having favoured that * 1.129 Thief, in tread∣ing under foot the ancient Liberty of his Coun∣try. Methinks I read, in this Action, I know not what Exaltation in his Soul, and an extraor∣dinary and manly Emotion of Pleasure, when he looked upon the Generosity and Height of his Enterprise:

Deliberata morte ferocior.* 1.130

Not stimulated with any hope of Glory, as the popular and effeminate Judgments of some have concluded; for that Consideration has been too mean and low to possess so generous, so haugh∣ty, and so obstinate a Heart as his: but for the very beauty of the thing in it self, which he, who had the handling of the Springs, discern'd more clearly, and in its Perfection, than we are able to do. Philosophy has obliged me in de∣termining

that so brave an Action had been inde∣cently placed in any other Life, than that of Ca∣to; and that it only appertain'd to His, to end so. Notwithstanding, and according to Reason, he commanded his Son, and the Senators that accompanied him, to take another Course in their Affairs:* 1.131 Catoni, quum incredibilem natura tribuisset gravitatem, ••ámque ipse perpetua con∣stantia roboravisset sempérque in proposito consilio permansisset, moriendum potius quàm Tyranni vultus aspiciendus erat. Nature having endued Cato with an incredible Gravity, which he had also for∣tified with a perpetual Constancy, without ever flag∣ging in his Resolution, he must of necessity rather dye, than see the face of the Tyrant. Every Death ought to hold proportion with the Life before it. We do not become others for dying. I al∣ways interpret the Death, by the Life prece∣ding; and if any one tell me of a Death strong and constant in appearance, annexed to a feeble Life, I conclude it produced by some feeble Cause, and suitable to the Life before. The Easiness then of this Death, and the Facility of Dying, he had acquired by the vigour of his Soul; shall we say, that it ought to abate any thing of the lustre of his Vertue? And who, that has his Brain never so little tinctur'd with the true Philosophy, can be content to imagine So∣crates only free from Fear and Passion, in the Accident of his Prison, Fetters and Condemna∣tion? And that will not discover in him, not only Stability and Constancy (which was his ordinary Composure) but moreover (I know

not what) new Satisfaction, and a frolick Chear∣fulness in his last Words and Actions? At the Start he gave, with the pleasure of scratching his Leg, when his Irons were taken off, does he not discover an equal Serenity and Joy in his Soul for being freed from past Inconveniences, and at the same time to enter into the Know∣ledge of things to come? Cato shall pardon me, if he please; his Death, indeed, is more tragical, and more taken notice of, but yet this is (I know not how) methinks finer. Aristippus, to one that was lamenting his Death; The Gods grant me such an one, said he.* 1.132 A Man discerns in the Souls of these two great Men, and their Imita∣tors (for I very much doubt, whether there was ever their like) so perfect a Habitude to Ver∣tue, that it was turn'd to a Complection. It is no more a laborious Vertue, nor the Precepts of Reason, to maintain which, the Soul is so wrac∣ked; but the very Essence of their Souls, their natural and ordinary Habit. They have ren∣dred it such by a long Practice of Philosophical Precepts, having light upon a rich and ingeni∣ous Nature. The vicious Passions that spring in us, can find no Entrance into them. The Force and Vigour of their Souls stifle and extin∣guish irregular Desires, so soon as they begin to move. Now, that it is not more noble, by a high and divine Resolution, to hinder the Birth of Temptations; and to be so form'd to Vertue, that the very Seeds of Vice be rooted out, than to hinder their Progress; and having suffer'd themselves to be surprized with the first Motions

of Passions, to arm themselves, and to stand firm to oppose their Progress, and overcome them: And that this second Effect is not also much more generous, than to be simply en∣dowed with a frail and affable Nature, of it self, disaffected to Debauchery and Vice, I do not think can be doubted; for this third and last sort of Vertue seems to render a Man innocent, but not vertuous; free from doing ill, but not apt enough to do well: considering also, that this Condition is so near Neighbour to Imper∣fection and Cowardize, that I know not very well how to separate the Confines, and distin∣guish them: The very name of Good Nature and Innocence are, for this reason, in some sort grown into Contempt. I very well know, that several Vertues, as Chastity, Sobriety and Tem∣perance, may come to a Man through Personal Defects. Constancy in Danger, if it must be so called, the Contempt of Death, and Patience in Misfortunes, may oft times be found in Men, for want of well judging of such Accidents, and not apprehending them for such as they are. Want of Apprehension, and Sottishness, do sometimes counterfeit vertuous Effects: As I have oft seen it happen, that Men have been commended for what really merited Blame. An Italian Lord once said this,* 1.133 in my presence, to the disadvantage of his own Nation; That the Subtilty of the Italians, and the Vivacity of their Conceptions, were so great, that they foresaw the Dangers and Accidents that might befal them, so far off, that it must not be thought

strange, if they were often, in War, observed to provide for their Safety, even before they had discover'd the Peril: That we French and Spaniards, who were not so cunning, went on further; and that we must be made to see and feel the danger, before we would take the A∣larm; and that even then we had no Apprehen∣sion: But the Germans and Swisse, more heavy,* 1.134 and thick-skull'd, had not the Sense to look about them, even then when the Blows were falling about their Ears. Peradventure, he on∣ly talk'd so for Mirths sake; and yet it is most certain that, in War, raw Soldiers rush into danger with more Precipitancy, than after they have been well cudgell'd.

— Haud ignarus, quantùm nova gloria in armis,* 1.135 Et praedulce decus primo certamine possit.

Not ign'rant in the first Essay of Arms, How hope of Glory the raw Soldier warms.

For this reason it is, that, when we judge of a particular Action, we are to consider several Circumstances, and the whole Man by whom it is perform'd, before we give it a name. To instance in my self; I have sometimes known my Friends call that Prudence in me, which was meerly Fortune; and repute that Courage and Patience, which was Judgment and Opi∣nion; and attribute to me one Title for ano∣ther, sometimes to my advantage, and some∣times otherwise. As to the rest, I am so far

from being arriv'd at the first, and most perfect degree of Excellence, where Vertue is turn'd into Habit, that even of the second I have made no great Tryal. I have not been very solici∣tous to curb the Desires, by which I have been importun'd. My Vertue is a Vertue, or ra∣ther, an Innocence, casual and accidental. If I had been born of a more irregular Comple∣ction, I am afraid I should have made scurvy work; for I never observ'd any great Stability in my Soul to resist Passions, if they were never so little vehement. I have not the knack of nourishing Quarrels and Debates in my own Bo∣som, and consequently, owe my self no great Thanks, that I am free from several Vices:

* 1.136Si vitiis mediocribus, & mea paucis Mendosa est natura, alioqui recta velut si Egregio inspersos reprehendas corpore naevos.

If of small Crimes, and few, my Nature be To be accus'd, and from the great ones free, Those Venial Faults will no more spot my Soul, Than a fair Body's blemish'd with a Mole.

I owe it rather to my Fortune, than my Reason: She has made me to be descended of a Race fa∣mous for Integrity; and of a very good Father; I know not whether, or no, he has infus'd into me part of his Humours; or whether Domestick Examples, and the good Education of my Infan∣cy hath insensibly assisted in the Work, or if I was otherwise born so;

Seu Libra,* 1.137 seu me Scorpius aspicit Formidolosus, pars violentior Natalis horae, seu tyrannus Hesperiae Capricornus unde.

Whether the Ballance weigh'd my future Fate; Or Scorpio, Lord of my Ascendent sate; Or Tyrant Capricorn, that rudely sways, And ruffles up the Occidental Seas.

But so it is, that I have naturally a Horror for most Vices. The Answer of Antisthenes to him who askt him, Which was the best Apprenti∣sage, To unlearn Evil, seems to point at this. I have them in Horror, I say, with a Detestation so Natural, and so much my own, that the same Instinct and Impression I brought with me from my Nurse, I yet retain, no Temptation whatever had the power to make me alter it. Not so much as my own Discourses, which in some things lashing out of the Common Road of modest Speaking, might easily license me to Actions, that my Natural Inclination makes me hate. I will say a prodigious thing, but I will say it however. I find my self in many things more curb'd and retain'd by my Manners than my Opinion, and my Concupiscence less de∣baucht than my Reason. Aristippus instituted Opinions so bold, in favour of Pleasure and Ri∣ches, as made all the Philosophers murmur at him: But as to his Manners, Dionysius the Ty∣rant, having presented three Beautiful Women

before him, to take his choice; he made answer, That he would choose them all, and that it had hapned ill to Paris to have prefer'd one be∣fore the other two: But having taken them home to his House, he sent them back untoucht. His Servant finding himself over-loaden upon the Way, with the Money he carried after him, he order'd him to pour out, and throw away, that which troubled him. And Epicurus, whose Doctrines were so irreligious and effeminate, was in his Life very laborious and devout: He writ to a Friend of his, that he liv'd only upon Biscuit and Water, intreating him to send him a little Cheese, to lye by him against he had a mind to make a Feast. Must it be true, that to be a perfect good Man, we must be so by an Oc∣cult, Natural and Universal Propriety, without Law, Reason or Example? The Debauches, wherein I have been ingag'd, have not been (I thank God) of the worse sort, and I have con∣demn'd them in my self, for my Judgment was never infected by them. On the contrary I ac∣cuse them more severely in my self, than in any other. But that is all, for, as to the rest, I op∣pose too little resistance, and suffer my self to encline too much to the other side of the Bal∣lance, excepting that I imoderate them, and prevent them from mixing with other Vices, which, for the most part, will cling together, if a Man have not a care. I have contracted and curtal'd mine, to make them as single as I can:

* 1.138Nec ultra Errorem foveo.

For as to the Opinion of the Stoicks, who say, That the Wise Man, when he Works, Works by all the Vertues together, though one be most apparent according to the Nature of the Action; (and of this the similitude of a Humane Body might serve them to some Instance, for the Action of Anger cannot work, but that all the Humours must assist, though Choler predomi∣nate) if from thence they will draw a like Con∣sequence, that when the Wicked Man does wickedly, he does it by all the Vices together, I do not believe it to be simple so, or else I under∣stand them not, for I effectually find the con∣trary. These are witty and substantial Subtil∣ties, which Philosophy sometimes insists upon. I follow some Vices, but I fly others, as much as a Saint would do. The Peripateticks also disown this indissoluble Connexion; and Ari∣stotle is of Opinion, that a Prudent, and Just Man may be intemperate and lascivious. So∣crates confessed to some, who had discover'd a certain inclination to Vice in his Physiognomy, that it was, in truth, his Natural Propension, but that he had by Discipline corrected it. And such as were familiar with the Pihlosopher Stilpo hath said, That, being born subject to Wine and Women, he had by Study rendred himself very abstinent, both from the one, and the other. What I have in me of Good, I have, quite contrary, by the chance of my Birth; and hold it not either by Law, Precept, or any other Instruction. The Innocency, that is in

me, is a simple and unexperienced one, lit∣tle Vigour, and less Art. Amongst other Vi∣ces, I mortally hate Cruelty, both by Nature and Judgment, as the very extream of all Vi∣ces: But with so much tenderness withal, that I cannot see a Chickens Neck pul'd off, without trouble, and cannot without impatience, endure the Cry of a Hare in my Dogs Teeth, though the Chase be a violent Pleasure. Such as have Sensuality to encounter, willingly make use of this Argument, (to shew that it is altogether vicious and unreasonable) that when it is at the height, it subjects us to that degree, that a Man's Reason can have no access, and instance our own Experience in the Act of Love. Wherein they conceive, that the Pleasure does so trans∣port us, that our Reason cannot perform its Of∣fice, whilst we are so benumn'd and extasied in Delight. I know very well, it may be other∣wise, and that a Man may sometimes, if he will, gain this point over himself to sway his Soul, even in the Critical moment, to think of some thing else: But then he must leisurely incline, and ply it to that bent. I know, that a Man may triumph over the utmost effort of this Plea∣sure: I have experienced it in my self, and have not found Venus so imperious a Goddess, as ma∣ny, and some more reform'd than I, declare. I do not consider it as a Miracle, as the Queen of Navar does in one of the Tales of her Hep∣tameron, (which is a marvilous pretty Book of that kind) nor for a thing of extream difficulty, to pass over whole Nights, where a Man has

all the Convenience and Liberty he can desire, with a long-coveted Mistress,* 1.139 and yet be just to his Faith first given to satisfie himself with Kis∣ses, and innocent Embraces, without pressing any further. I conceive that the Example of the Pleasure of the Chace would be more proper; wherein though the Pleasure be less, yet the Ra∣vishment and the Surprize are more, by which the Reason, being astonished, has not so much leisure to prepare it self for the Encounter, when after a long Quest, the Beast starts up on a sud∣den in a place, where, peradventure, we least expected. Which sudden motion, with the ardour of the Shouts and Crys of the Hunters, so strikes us, that it would be hard for such as are eager of the Chace, to turn their Thoughts, upon the instant, another way; And also the Po∣ets make Diana triumph over the Torch and Shafts of Cupid.

Quis non malarum quas amor curas habet* 1.140 Haec inter obliviscitur?

Who amongst such Delights would not remove Out of his Thoughts the anxious cares of Love?

But to return to what I was saying before, I am tenderly compassionate of other's Afflictions, and should easily cry for Company, if upon any oc∣casion whatever, I could cry at all. Nothing tempts my Tears, but Tears, and not only those that are real and true, but whatever they are, either feign'd or painted: I do not much la∣ment

the Dead, and should envy them rather; but I very much lament the Dying. The Sa∣vages do not so much offend me, in roasting and eating the Bodies of the Dead, as they do, who torment and persecute the Living. Nay, I cannot look so much as upon the ordinary Exe∣cutions of Justice, how reasonable soever, with a steady Eye. Some one being to give testi∣mony of Julius Caesar's Clemency,* 1.141 he was, says he, mild and moderate in his Revenges: For having compelled the Pyrates to yield, by whom he had before been taken Prisoner, and put to Ransom; forasmuch as they had threatned him with the Cross, he indeed condemn'd them to it, but it was after they had been first strangled. He punished his Secretary Philomon, who had attempted to poyson him, with no greater seve∣rity, than a single Death. Without naming that Latin Author, that dare alledge for a Testi∣mony of Mercy, the killing only of those by whom we have been offended: It is easie to guess that he was struck with the horrid and inhumane Examples of Cruelty, practis'd by the Roman Ty∣rants. For my part, even in Justice it self, all that exceeds a Simple Death, appears to me per∣fect Cruelty; especially in us who ought to have regard to their Souls, to dismiss them in a good and calm Condition; which cannot be, when we have discompos'd them by insufferable Torments. Not long since, a Souldier, who was a Crimi∣nal Prisoner, perceiving from a Tower, where he was shut up, that the people began to assem∣ble to the place of Execution, and that the Car∣penters

were busie, erecting a Scaffold, he pre∣sently concluded, that the Preparation was for him; and therefore entred into a Resolution to kill himself, but could find no Instrument to as∣sist him in his Design, saving an old rusty Cart-Nayle, that Fortune presented to him. With this he first gave himself two great Wounds about his Throat, but finding those would not do, he presently after gave himself a third in the Belly, where he left the Nayle sticking up to the head. The first of his Keepers that came in, found him in this Condition; yet alive, but sunk down, and near expiring by his Wounds. To make use of time therefore, before he should die and defeat the Law, they made hast to read his Sentence: Which having done, and he hearing that he was only condemn'd to be Be∣headed, he seem'd to take new Courage, ac∣cepted of Wine, which he had before refus'd, and thanked his Judges for the unhop'd for Mildness of their Sentence; saying, That in∣deed he had taken a resolution to dispatch him∣self for fear of a more severe and insupportable Death: Having entertain'd an Opinion by the Preparations he had seen in the Place, that they were resolved to torment him with some hor∣rible Execution; and seem'd to be delivered from Death, for having it changed from what he apprehended. I should advise, that these Ex∣amples of Severity, by which 'tis design'd to re∣tain the people in their Duty, might be exer∣cised upon the dead Bodies of Criminals; for to see them deprived of Sepulture, to see them

boyl'd, and divided into Quarters, would al∣most work as much upon the Vulgar, as the Pain they make the Living to endure; though that in effect be little or nothing, as God him∣self says,* 1.142 Who kill the Body, and, after that, have no more that they can do. I hapned to come by one day accidentally at Rome, just as they were upon executing Catena, a notorious Robber: He was strangled without any Emo∣tion of the Spectators, but when they came to cut him in Quarters, the Hangman gave not a Blow, that the People did not follow with a doleful Cry, and with Exclamation, as if every one had lent his Feeling to the miserable Car∣kass. Those inhumane Excesses ought to be ex∣ercised upon the Bark, and not upon the Quick. Artaxerxes,* 1.143 in almost a like case, moderated the Severity of the Ancent Laws of Persia, Or∣daining, that the Nobility, who had committed a Fault, instead of being whipt, as they were us'd to be, should be stript only, and their Cloaths whipt for them; and that, whereas they were wont to tear off their Hair, they should only take off their High-crown'd Tiara.* 1.144 The so devout Egyptians, thought they sufficiently satisfied the Divine Justice, in Sacrificing Hogs in Effigie and Representation; a bold Inven∣tion to pay God, so Essential a Substance in Picture only, and in show. I live in a time, wherein we abound in credible Examples of this Vice, thorough the licence of our Civil Wars; and we see nothing in Ancient Histories more extream, than what we have proof of every

day. I could hardly perswade my self,* 1.145 before I saw it with my Eyes, that there could be found out Souls so cruel and fell, who, for the sole Pleasure of Murther would commit, hack, and lop off the Limbs of others; sharpen their Wits to invent unusual Torments, and new kinds of Deaths without Hatred, without Pro∣fit, and for no other end, but only to enjoy the pleasant Spectacle of the Gestures and Motions, the lamentable Groans and Crys of a Man in anguish. For this is the utmost point to which Cruelty can arrive, Vt hominem non iratus,* 1.146 non timens, tantùm spectaturus occidat. That a Man should kill a Man without being angry, or with∣out fear, only for the Pleasure of the Spectacle. For my own part, I cannot, without Grief, see so much as an innocent Beast pursu'd, and kil'd, that has no Defence, and from whom we have receiv'd no Offence at all. And that which frequently happens, that the Stage we hunt, finding himself weak, and out of breath, seeing no other Remedy surrenders himself to us, who pursue him, imploring Mercy by his Tears,

—questuque cruentus,* 1.147 Atque imploranti similis,

That Bleeding by his Tears, does Mercy crave.

It has ever been to me a very unpleasing sight;* 1.148 and I hardly ever take beast alive, that I do not presently turn out. Pythagoras bought

them of Fishermen and Fowlers, to do the same.

* 1.149—primòque à caede ferarum, Incaluisse puto maculatum sanguine ferrum.

I think, 'twas Slaughter of wild beasts that made Too docile Man first learn the Killing Trade.

Those Natures that are sanguinary towards Beasts, discover a Natural Propension to Cruel∣ty. After they had accustomed themselves at Rome, to Spectacles of the Slaughter of Animals, they proceeded to those of the Slaughter of Men, the Fencers. Nature has her self (I doubt) im∣printed in Man a kind of instinct to Inhuma∣nity; no body takes pleasure in seeing Beasts play, and caress one another, but every one is delighted with seeing them dismember, and tear one another to pieces. And that I may not be laught at for the simpathy I have with them, Theologie it self enjoyns us some Favour in their behalf: And considering that one, and the same Master, has lodg'd us together in this Palace, for his Service, and that they, as well as we, are of his Family, it has reason to enjoyn us some affection and regard to them.* 1.150 Pytha∣goras borrow'd the Metempsycosis from the Egyp∣tians, but it has since been receiv'd by several Nations, and particularly by our Druids.

Morte carent animae, sempèrque priore relicta Sede, novis domibus vivunt, hàbitantque receptae.

Souls never dye, but, having left one Seat, Into new Houses they Admittance get.

The Religion of our Ancient Gauls maintain'd, that Souls, being Eternal, never ceased to re∣move and shift their places from one body to another: Mixing moreover, with this Fancy, some Consideration of Divine Justice. For ac∣cording to the Deportments of the Soul, whilst it had been in Alexander, they said, that God ordered it another body to inhabit, more or less painful, and proper for its Conditions.

—muta ferarum* 1.151 Cogit vincla pati, truculentos ingerit ursis, Pradonèsque lupis, fallaces vulpibus addit, Atque ubi per varios annos per mille figuras Egit, Lethaeo purgatos flumine tandem Rursus ad humanae revocat primordia formae.

The silent Yoak of Brutes he made them wear, The Bloody Souls he did enclose in Bears, The ravenousin Woolves he wisely shut, The sly and cunning he in Foxes put, Where after having, through successive years And thousand Figures, finisht their Carreers, Purging them well in Lethe's Flood, at last In humane Bodies he the Souls replac't.

If it had been valiant, he lodg'd it in the Body of a Lyon; if voluptuous, in that of Hog; if ti∣morous

in that of a Hart or Hare, if subtil; in that of a Fox, and so of the rest, till having purified it by this Chastisement, it again enter'd into the Body of some other Man;

* 1.152Ipse ego, nam memini, Trojani tempore Belli Panthoides Euphorbus eram.

For I my self remember in the days O'th' Trojan War, that I Euphorbus was.

As to the Relation betwixt us and Beasts, I do not much admit of it,* 1.153 nor allow what seve∣ral Nations, and those the most Ancient and most Noble, have practised, who have not only receiv'd Brutes into their Society, but have given them a Rank infinitely above them; E∣steeming them one while Familiars and Favo∣rites of the Gods, and having them in more, than humane, Reverence and Respect; and others knowing no other, nor other Divinity but they. Belluae à Barbaris propter beneficium consecratae. The Barbarians consecrated Beasts, out of Opi∣nion of some Benefit received by them,

* 1.154—Crocodilon adorat Pars haec, illa pavet saturam serpentibus Ibin, Effigies sacri hic nitet aurea Cercopitheci. —Hic piscem fluminis, illic Oppida tota canem venerantur.

One Country does adore the Crocodile, That does inhabit Monster-breeding Nile,

Another does the Long-bild Ibis dread, With poysonous Flesh of ugly Serpents fed. And in another place you may behold The Statue of a Monkey shine in Gold; Here Men, some monstrous Fishes aid implore, And there whole Towns a Grinning Dog adore.

And the very Interpretation, that Plutarch gives to this Error, which is very well taken, is ad∣vantageous to them: For he says, that it was not the Cat; or the Oxe (for example) that the Egyptians ador'd: But that they in those Beasts ador'd some Image of the Divine Facul∣ties; in this the Patience and Utility, in that the Vivacity, or, as our Neighbours, the Bur∣gundians, with the Germans, the Impatience to see it self shut up; by which, they repre∣sented the Liberty they lov'd and ador'd, above all other Divine Faculty, and so of the rest. But when amongst the more moderate Opini∣ons, I meet with Arguments, that endeavour to demonstrate the near resemblance betwixt us and Animals, how great a share they in our greatest Priviledges, and with how great pro∣bability they compare and couple us together, in earnest, I abate a great deal of our Presumption, and willingly let fall the Title of that imaginary Sovereignty, that some attribute to us over other Creatures. But supposing all this were true, there is nevertheless a certain Respect, and a general Duty of Humanity, that ties us not only to Beasts that have Li••e, and Sense, but even to Trees and Plants. We owe Justice to

Men, and Grace and Benignity to other Crea∣tures that are capable of it. There is a certain Natural Commerce, and Mutual Obligation be∣twixt them and us; neither shall I be afraid to discover the Tenderness of my Nature so chil∣dish, that I cannot well refuse to play with my Dog, when he the most unseasonably impor∣tunes me so to do. The Turks have Alms and Hospitals for Beasts. The Romans had a pub∣lick regard to the Nourishment of Geese, by whose Vigilancy their Capitol had been pre∣serv'd: The Athenians made a Decree, that the Mules and Moyles which had serv'd at the building of the Temple call'd Hecatompedon, should be free, and suffer'd to pasture at their own choice without hindrance. The Agri∣gentines had a common usance solemnly to en∣ter the Beasts, they had a kindness for; as Horses of some rare qualities, Dogs, and Birds of whom they had had profit, and even those that had only been kept to divert their Chil∣dren. And the Magnificence that was ordi∣nary with them in all other things, did also particularly appear in the Sumptuosity and Numbers of Monuments, erected to this very end, that remain'd in their Beauty several Ages after. The Egyptians buried Wolves, Bears, Crocodiles, Dogs and Cats in Sacred Places, em∣balm'd their Bodies, and put on Mourning at their Death. Cimon gave an honourable Sepul∣ture to the Mares, with which he had three times gain'd the Prize of the Course at the Olym∣pick Games. The Ancient Xanthippus caus'd

his Dog to be inter'd on an Eminence near the Sea, which has euer since retain'd the Name. And Plutarch says, That he made Conscience of selling, for a small profit to the Slaughter, an Oxe, that had been long in his Service.

CHAP. XII. Apology for Raimond de Sebonde.

LEarning is, in truth, a very great, and a very considerable quality; and such as de∣spise it, sufficiently discover their own want of Understanding: But yet I do not prize it at the excessive rate, some others do; as Herillus the Philosopher for one, who therein places the Sovereign Good, and maintain'd, that it was only in her to render us wise and contented, which I do not believe; no more than I do, what others have said, That Learning is the Mother of all Vertue, and that all Vice proceeds from Ignorance, which, if it be true, is subject to a very long Interpretation. My House has long been open to Men of Knowledge, and is very well known, so to be; for my Father, who govern'd it Fifty years, and more, inflam'd with the new ardour, with which,* 1.155 Francis the First embraced Letters, and brought them into esteem, with great Diligence and Expence hun∣ted after the Acquaintance of Learned Men, re∣ceiving them at his House, as Persons Sacred, and that had some particular Inspiration of Di∣vine

Wisdom; collecting their Sayings and Sen∣tences as so many Oracles, and with so much the greater Reverence and Religion, as he was the less able to judge; for he had no Knowledge of Letters, no more than his Predecessors. For my part, I love them well, but I do not adore them. Amongst others, Peter Bunel, a Man of great Reputation for Knowledge in his time, having, with some others of his sort, stayed some days at Montaigne, in my Father's Com∣pany; he presented him, at his departure, with a Book, Intituled, Theologia naturalis; sive Liber Creaturarum Magistri Raimondi de Sebonde. And being that the Italian and Spanish Tongues were familiar to my Father;* 1.156 and that this Book is writ in Spanish, sustian'd with Latin Termi∣nations, he hoped that, with little help, he might be able to understand it, and therefore recommended it to him for a very useful piece, and proper for the time wherein he gave it to him; which was then, when the Novel Doctrines of Martin Luther began to be in vogue, and in many places to stagger our ancient Belief: Where∣in he was very well adviz'd, wisely, in his own Reason, foreseeing, that the beginning of this Distemper would easily run into an Execrable Atheism; for the Vulgar not having the Faculty of judging of things themselves, suffering them∣selves to be carried away by appearance, after having once been inspir'd with the Boldness to despise and controul those Opinions they had be∣fore, had in extreamest Reverence, such as those wherein their Salvation is concern'd, and that

some of the Articles of their Religion were brought into Doubt and Dispute; they after∣wards throw all other parts of their Belief into the same uncertainty, they having in them no other Authority or Foundation, than the other they had already discompos'd; and shake of all the Impressions they had received from the Au∣thority of the Laws, or the Reverence of Anci∣ent Custom, as a Tyrannical Yoak;

Nam cupidè inculcatur nimis antè metutum.

For with most Eagerness they spurn the Law,* 1.157 By which they were before most kept in awe.

Resolving to admit nothing for the future, to which they had not first interpos'd their own Decrees, and given their particular Consent. It hapned that my Father, a little before his death, having accidentally found this Book under a heap of other neglected Papers, commanded me to translate it for him into French.* 1.158 It is good to translate such Authors as that, where is little but the matter it self to express; but such wherein the Ornament of a Language and Ele∣gancy of Style, is the main Endeavour, are dan∣gerous to attempt; especially, when a Man is to turn them into a weaker Idiom. It was a strange and a new Undertaking for me; but having, by chance, at that time, little else to do, and not being able to resist the Command of the best Father that ever was, I did it as well as I could; and he was so well pleased with it,

as to order'd it to be Printed; which also, after his death, was perform'd. I found the Imagi∣nation of this Author exceeding fine, the Con∣texture of his Work well follow'd, and his De∣sign full of Piety; and because many People take a delight to read it, and particularly the Ladies, to whom we owe the most Service, I have often been ready to assist them, to clear the Book of two principal Objections. His De∣sign is hardy, and bold; for he undertakes, by Humane and Natural Reasons, to establish, and make good against the Atheists, all the Articles of Christian Religion: wherein (to speak the truth) he is so firm, and so successful, that I do not think it possible to do better upon that Subject; and do believe that he has been equal∣led by none. This Work seeming to me to be too beautiful, and too rich for an Author, whose Name is so little known, and of whom, all that we know is, that he was a Spaniard who pro∣fessed Physick at Tholouse about two hundred Years ago; I enquired of Adrian Turnebus, who knew all things, what he thought of that Book; who made Answer, That he thought it was some Abstract drawn from St. Thomas of Aquin; for that, in truth, his Wit, full of infinite Lear∣ning, and absolute Subtilty, was only capable of those Thoughts. So it is, that, whoever was the Author and Inventor (and 'tis not rea∣sonable, without greater occasion, to deprive Sebonde of that Title) he was a Man of great Sufficiency,* 1.159 and most admirable Parts. The first thing they reprehend in his Work is, That

Christians are too blame to repose their Belief upon Humane Reasons, which is only conceiv'd by Faith, and the particular Inspiration of Divine Grace. In which Objection, there appears to be some∣thing of Zeal to Piety, and therefore we are to endeavour to satisfie those who put it forth, with the greater Mildness and Respect. This were a Task more proper for a Man well read in Divini∣ty, than for me who know nothing of it; ne∣vertheless, I conceive that, in a thing so divine, so high, and so far transcending all Humane In∣telligence, as this Truth, with which it has plea∣sed the Bounty of Almighty God to enlighten us, it is very necessary that he should, moreover, lend us his Assistance after a very extraordinary Method of Favour, to conceive and imprint it in our Understandings; and do not believe, that Meanes purely humane, are in any sort capable of doing it: for, if they were, so many rare and excellent Souls, and so abundantly furnish'd with natural Force, in former Ages, had not faild, by their Reason, to arrive at this Know∣ledge. 'Tis Faith alone, that livelily and cer∣tainly comprehends the deep Mysteries of our Religion; but withall, I do not say, that it is not a brave, and a very laudable Attempt, to accommodate the Natural and Humane Utensils, that God has endow'd us with, to the Service of our Faith: It is not to be doubted, but that it the most noble use we can put them to; and that there is not a design in a Christian-Man more noble, than to make it the Aim and End of all his Thoughts and Studies, to extend and

amplifie the truth of his Belief. We do not sa∣tisfie our selves with serving God with our Souls and Understanding only, we moreover owe and render him a Corporal Reverence, and apply our Limbs, Motions, and external Things, to do him Honour; we must here do the same, and accompany our Faith with all the Reason we have, but always with this Reservation, not to fancy that it is upon us that it depends, nor that our Arguments and Endeavours can arrive at so supernatural and divine a Knowledge. If it enter not into us by an extraordinary Infu∣sion; if it only enter, not only by Arguments of Reason, but, moreover, by Human Ways, it is not in us in its true Dignity and Splendor; and yet, I am afraid we only have it by this way. If we laid hold upon God by the Mediation of a lively Faith;* 1.160 if we laid hold upon God by him, and not by us; if we had a Divine Basis and Foundation, Human Accidents would not have the power to shake us as they do, our For∣tress were not to render to so weak a Battery: the Love of Novelty, the Constraint of Prin∣ces, the Success of one Party, and the rash and fortuitous Change of our Opinions would not have the power to stagger, and alter our Belief: We should not then leave it to the Mercy of eve∣ry novel Argument, nor abandon it to all the Rhetorick in the World: We should withstand the fury of these Waves with an immote, and unyielding Constancy.

Illisos fluctus rupes ut vasta refundit,* 1.161 Et varias circùm latrantes dissipat undas Mcle sua.

As a vast Rock repels the rowling Tides, That foam and bark about her Marble Sides, From the Strong Mole

If we were but touch'd with this Ray of Divini∣ty, it would appear throughout; not only our Words, but our Works also, would carry its Brightness and Lustre; whatever proceeded from us, would be seen illuminated with this noble Light. We ought to be ashamed, that, in all the Human Sects, there never was any of the Faction, what Difficulty and strange No∣velty soever his Doctrine impos'd upon him, that did not, in some measure, conform his Life and Deportments to it, whereas so Divine and Heavenly an Institution, does only distinguish Christians by the Name. Will you see the Proof of this? Compare our Manners to those of a Ma∣hometan or Pagan, you will still find, that we fall very short; whereas out of regard to the Reputation, and Advantage of our Religion, we ought to shine in Vertue, and that it should be said of us, Are they so Just, so Charitable,* 1.162 so Good? Then they are Christians. All other Signs are common to all Religions; Hope, Trust, Events, Ceremonies, Penance and Martyrs. The peculiar Mark of our Truth ought to be our Vertue, as it is also the most heavenly and difficult, and the most Worthy Product of Truth.

For this, our good St. Lewis was in the right; when the King of the Tartars, who was become Christian, designed to come to Lyons, to kiss the Pope's Feet, and there to be an Eye-witness of the Sanctity he hoped to find in our Manners; immediately to divert him from his purpose; for fear lest our inordinate way of Living should on the contrary put him out of conceit with so holy a Belief. And yet it hapned quite other∣wise since to this other, who going to Rome to the same End, and there seeing the Dissolution of the Prelates, and people of that time, settled himself so much the more firmly in our Religion, considering how great the Force and Divinity of it must necessarily be, that could maintain its Dignity and Splendor amongst so much Cor∣ruption, and in so Vicious Hands. If we had but one single Grain of Faith, we should remove Mountains from their places, says the Sacred Word; our Actions, that would then be directed and accompanied by the Divinity, would not be mearly Human, they would have in them something of Miraculous, as well as our Belief. Brevis est institutio vitae honestae, beataeque, si credas. Some impose upon the World that they believe that which they do not; others more in Number, make themselves believe that they believe, not being able to penetrate into what it is to believe. We think it strange, if in the Civil War, which, at this time, disorders our State, we see Events float, and vary after a common and ordinary manner; which is be∣cause we bring nothing to it but our own. Ju∣stice

which is in one Party, is only there for Or∣nament and Palliation, it is indeed pretended, but 'tis not there received, settled and espous'd: It is there, as in the Mouth of an Advocat, not as in the Heart, and Affection of the Party. God owes his extraordinary Assistance to Faith and Religion; but not to our Passions.* 1.163 Men there are the Conductors, and therein serve themselves of Religion, which ought to be quite contrary. Observe if it be not by our own Hands, that we guide and train it, and draw it like Wax into so many contrary Figures, from a Rule in it self so direct and firm. When and where was this manifest, than in France in our days? They who have taken it on the Left-hand, they who have taken it on the Right, they who call it black, they who call it white, a like em∣ploy it to their Violent and Ambitious Designs, conduct it with a Progress so conform in Ryot and Injustice, that they render the Diversity they pretended in their Opinions, in a thing whereon the Conduct and Rule of our Life de∣pends, doubtful and hard to believe. Can a Man see, even from the same School and Discipline, Manners more united, and more the same? Do but observe with what horrid Impudence we toss Divine Arguments to and fro,* 1.164 and how irreli∣giously we have both rejected and retaken them, according as Fortune has shifted our Places in these Intestine Storms. This so solemn Propo∣sition, Whether it be Lawful for a Subject to Re∣bel, and take up Arms against his Prince for the Defence of his Religion; Do you remember, in

whose Mouths the last year, the Affirmative of it was the Prop of one Party, and the Negative the Pillar of another? And hearken now from what Quarter comes the Vote, and Instruction of both the one, and the other; and if Arms makes less noise, and rattle for this Cause, than for that. We condemn those to the Fire, who say, That Truth must be made to bear the Yoak of our Necessity; and how much more does France, than say it? Let us confess the Truth; whoever should draw out the Army, lawfully rais'd by the Kings Authority, those who take up Arms out of pure Zeal to Religion, and also those who only do it to protect the Laws of their Country, or for the Service of their Prince, could hardly out of both these put to∣gether, make one compleat Company of Gens∣d'armes. Whence does this proceed, that there are so few to be found, who have maintained the same Will, and the same Progress in our Civil Commotions, and that we see them one while move but a Foot-pace, and another run Full∣speed? And the same Men one while endamage our Affairs by their violent Heat and Austeri∣ty, and another by their Coldness, Gentleness and Slowness; but that they are pushed on by particular and causal Considerations, according to the Variety whereof they move? I evidently perceive, that we do not willingly afford Devo∣tion any other Offices, but those that best suit with our own Passions. There is no Hostility so admirable, as the Christian. Our Zeal per∣forms Wonders, when it seconds our Inclinations

to Hatred, Cruelty, Ambition, Avarice, De∣traction and Rebellion: But when it moves against the Hair towards Bounty, Benignity and Temperance, unless, by Miracle, some rare and vertuous Disposition prompt us to it, we stir neither hand nor foot. Our Religion is in∣tended to extirpate Vices: Whereas it skreens, nourishes and incites them. We must not mock God. If we did believe in him, I do not say by Faith, but with a simple belief, that is to say, (and I speak it to our great shame,) if we did believe him, as we do any other History; or as we would do one of our Companions, we should love him above all other things, for the infinite Bounty and Beauty that shines in him: at least he would go equal in our Affections, with Ri∣ches, Pleasures, Glory, and our Friends. The best of us is not so much afraid to injure him, as he is afraid to injure his Neighbour, his Kins∣man, or his Master. Is there any so weak Un∣derstanding, that having on one side the Object of one of our vicious Pleasures, and on the o∣ther (in equal knowledge and perswasion) the State of an Immortal Glory, will dispute for the first, against the other? And yet we of∣times renounce this out of pure Contempt: For what lust tempts us to blaspheme, if not, per∣adventure, the very desire to offend? The Phi∣losopher Antisthenes, as the Priest was initiating him in the Mysteries of Orpheus, telling him that those who profest themselves of that Religion, were certain to receive Perfect and Eternal Fe∣licities after Death; if thou believest that, an∣swered

he, Why doest not thou dye thy self? Diogenes more rudely, according to his manner, and more remote from our purpose, to the Preist that in like manner preached to him, to become of his Religion, that he might obtain the Hap∣piness of the other World: What, said he, Thou wouldest have me believe that Agesilaus and Epa∣minondas, who, were so Great Men, shall be miserable, and that thou, who art but a Calf, and canst do nothing to purpose, shalt be happy, because thou art a Priest? Did we re∣ceive these great Promises of Eternal Beatitude with the same Reverence and Respect, that we do a Philosophical Lecture, we should not have Death in so great Horror:

Non jam se moriens dissolvi conquereretur, * 1.165Sed magis ire foras, vestémque relinquere ut anguis Gauderet, praelonga senex aut cornua Cervus.

We should not then dying repine to be Dissolv'd, but rather step out chearfully From our Old Hut, and with the Snake be glad To cast the Old uneasie slough we had; Or with th' Old Stag, rejoyce to be now clear From the large Head, too pondrous grown to bear.

I desire to be dissolv'd we should say, and to be with Jesus Christ. The force of Plato's Argu∣ments,

concerning the Immortality of the Soul, sent some of his Disciples to untimely Graves, that they might the sooner enjoy the things he had made them hope for. All which is a most evident sign, that we only receive our Re∣ligion after our own fashion, by our own hands, and no otherwise than other Religions are receiv'd. Either we are come into the Country where it is in Practice, or we bear a Reverence to the An∣tiquity of it, or to the Authority of the Men, who, have maintained it, or fear the Menaces it fulminates against Miscreants, or are allur'd by its Promises. These Considerations ought, 'tis true, to be applyed to our Belief, but as Sub∣sidiaries only, for they are Human Obligations. Another Religion, other Witnesses, the like Pro∣mises and Threats, might by the same way, imprint a quite contrary Belief. We are Chri∣stians by the same Title, that we are Perigordins and Germans. And what Plato says, that there are few Men so obstinate in their Atheism, that a pressing Danger will not reduce to an Acknow∣ledgment of the Divine Power, does not con∣cern a true Christian; 'tis for Mortal and Hu∣man Religions to be received by Human Re∣commendation. What kind of Faith can we expect that should be, that Cowardize and want of Courage does establish in us? A pleasant Faith that does not believe what it believes, but for want of Courage to believe it. Can a vi∣cious Passion, such as Inconstancy and Astonish∣ment cause any regular Product in our Souls? They are confident in their own Judgment,

says he, That what is said of Hell, and future Torments, is all feign'd: But an Occasion of making the Experiment presenting it self, that Old Age or Diseases bring them to the Brink of the Grave, the Terrour of Death by the Hor∣ror of that future Condition, inspires them with a new Belief. And by reason that such Impres∣sions render them timorous, he forbids in his Laws all such threatning Doctrines, and all Per∣swasion, that any thing of ill can befall a Man from the Gods, excepting for his great good, when they happen to him, and for a Medicinal effect. They say of Bion, that infected with the Atheisms of Theodorus, he had long had Re∣ligious Men in great scorn and contempt, but that Death surprising him, he gave himself up to the most extream Superstition; as if the Gods withdrew, and return'd according to the Necessities of Bion. Plato, and his Examples, would conclude,* 1.166 that we are brought to a Belief of God,* 1.167 either by reason, or by force. Athe∣ism being a Proposition, as unnatural and mon∣struous, so difficult also, and very hard to sink into Human Understanding, how arrogant and irregular soever; there are enow seen, out of Vanity and Pride, to be the Author of extraor∣dinary and reforming Opinions have outwardly affected the Profession, who, if they are such Fools, have nevertheless not had the power to plant them in their own Conscience. Yet will they not fail to lift up their Hands towards Hea∣ven, if you give them a good thrust with a Sword into the Bosom; and when Fear or Sickness

has abated and supprest the licentious Fury of this giddy Humour, they will easily reunite, and very discreetly suffer themselves to be recon∣ciled to the Publick Faith and Examples. A Do∣ctrine seriously disgested is one thing, and those superficial Impressions another; which springing from the Disorder of an unhing'd Un∣derstanding, float at random and great uncer∣tainty in the Fancy. Miserable, and sense∣less Men, who strive to be worse, than they can! The Error of Paganism, and the Ignorance of our Sacred Truth let this great Soul, but great only in Human Greatness, fall yet into this other Mistake, that Children and Old Men were most susceptible of Religion, as if it sprung and deriv'd its Reputation from our Weakness. The Knot that ought to bind the Judgment and the Will, that ought to restrain the Soul, and joyn it to the Creator, must be a Knot that de∣rives the Foldings and Strength, not from our Considerations, from our Reasons and Passions; but from a Divine and Supernatural Constraint, having but one Form, one Face, and one Lustre, which is the Authority of God, and his Divine Grace. Now the Heart and Soul being gover∣ned and commanded by Faith, 'tis but reason that they should muster all their other Faculties, for as much as they are able to perform, to the Service and Assistance of their Design. Neither is it to be imagined, that all this Machin has not some Marks imprinted upon it by the Hand of the mighty Architect, and that there is not in the thing of this World, some Image, that in

some measure resembles the Workman, who has built and form'd them.* 1.168 He has in his stupen∣dious Works, left the Character of his Divinity, and 'tis our own Weakness only, that hinders us, we cannot discern it. 'Tis what he himself is pleased to tell us, that he manifests his invisi∣ble Operations to us, by those that are visible. Sebonde applyed himself to this laudable and no∣ble Study, and demonstrates to us, that there is not any part or member of the World, that disclaims or derogates from its Maker. It were to do a Wrong to the Divine Bounty, did not the Universe consent to our Belief; The Hea∣vens, the Earth, the Elements, our Bodies and our Souls; all these concur to this, if we can but find out the way to use them. For this World is a Sacred Temple, into which, Man is introduced,* 1.169 there to contemplate Statues, not the Works of a Mortal Hand, but such as the Divine Purpose has made the Objects of Sence, the Sun, the Stars, the Waters and the Earth, to represent those that are intelligible to us. The invisible things of God, says St. Paul, appear by the Creation of the World, his Eternal Wis∣dom and Divinity being considered by his Works.

* 1.170Atque adeo faciem caeli mon invidet orbi Ipse Deus, vultusque suus corpusque recludit Sempér volvendo: Séque ipsum inculcat & offert, Vt benè cognosci possit doceátque videndo Qualis eat, doceatque suas attendere leges.

And God himself envies not Men the Grace Of seeing, and admiring Heaven's Face: But rowling it about, does still anew Object its Face and Body to our view, And int' our Minds himself inculcates so, That we may well the mighty Moover know, Instructing us by seeing him the cause Of all, to rev'rence, and obey his Laws.

Now our Prayers, and Humane Discourses are but as Steril and undigested Matter: The Grace of God is the Form: 'Tis that, which gives fa∣shion and value to it. As the vertuous Actions of Socrates and Cato remain vain and fruitless, for not having had the Love and Obedience of the true Creator of all things for their End and Object, and for not having known God. So is it with our Imaginations and Discourses, they have a kind of Body, but it is an inform Mass, without Fashion, and without Light, if Faith and Grace be not added to it. Faith coming to tinct and illustrate Sebonde's Arguments renders them firm and solid, and to that degree, that that they are capable of serving for Directions, and of being the first Guides to an Elementary Christian to put him into the way of this Know∣ledge: They in some measure form him to, and render him capable of, the Grace of God, by which means he afterward compleats and per∣fects himself in the true Belief. I know a Man of Authority, bred up to Letters, who, has confest to me, to have been reduced from the

Errors of Miscreancy by Sebonde's Arguments. And should they be stripped of this Ornament, and of the Assistance and Approbation of the Holy Faith, and be looked upon as mere Hu∣mane Fancies only, to contend with those who are precipitated into the dreadful and horrible Darkness of Irreligion, they will even there find them as solid and firm, as any others of the same Quality, than can be opposed against them; so that we shall be ready to say to our Opponents,

Si melius quid habes, accerse, vel imperium fer.

If you have Arguments more fit, Produce them, or to these submit.

Let them admit the force of our Reasons; or let them shew us others, and upon some other Subject better woven, and a finer Thread. I am unawares half engaged in the second Obje∣ction, to which I propos'd to make answer in the behalf of Sebonde. Some say, that his Argu∣guments are weak, and unable to make good what he intends, and undertake with great ease to confute them. These are to be a little more roughly handled; for they are more dangerous and malicious, than the first. Men willingly wrest the sayings of others to favour their own prejudicate Opinions; to an Atheist all Writings tend to Atheism, he corrupts the most Innocent Matter with his own Venom; these have their

Judgments so prepossest, that they cannot relish Sebonde's Reasons. As to the rest, they think we make them very fair play, in putting them into the Liberty of our Religion with Weapons merely Human, which in her Majesty full of Authority and Command, they durst not at∣tack. The means that I shall use, and that I think most proper to subdue this Frenzy, is to crush and spurn under foot Pride, and Human Fierceness; to make them sensible of the Inani∣ty, Vanity and Vileness of Man: To wrest the wretched Arms of their Reason out of their Hands, to make them bow down, and bite the Ground under the Authority and Reverence of the Divine Majesty. 'Tis to that alone, that Knowledge and Wisdom appertain, that alone, that can make a true Estimate of it self,* 1.171 and from which we purloin whatever we value our selves,

〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.* 1.172

God not permits, that any one would be More wise than he.

Let us subdue this Presumption; The first Foun∣dation of this Tyranny of the Evil Spirit. Deus superbis resistit: Humilibus autem dat gratiam. God resists the Proud; but gives Grace to the Hum∣ble. Understanding is in all the Gods, (says Plato) and not at all, or very little, in Men.* 1.173 Now it is in the mean time a great Consolation to a Christian Man, to see our Frail and Mortals

Parts so fitly suited to our Holy and Divine Faith, that when we employ them to the Sub∣jects of their own Mortal and Frail Nature, they are not even there more equally, or more firm∣ly, adjusted. Let us see then, if Man hath in his power other more forcible and convincing Rea∣sons, than those of Sebonde; That is to say, if it be in him to arrive at any certainty by Argu∣ments and Reasons. For St. Augustin, disputing against the people, has good cause to reproach them with Injustice, in that they maintain the part of our Belief to be false, that our Reason cannot establish. And to shew that a great ma∣ny things may be, and may have been, of which our Nature could not sound the Reason and Cau∣ses, he proposes to them certain known and un∣doubted Experiments, wherein Men confess they see nothing, and this he does, as all other things, with a curious and ingenious Inquisition. We must do more than this, and make them know, that to convince the weakness of their Reason, there is no necessity of culling out rare Examples: And that it is so defective, and so blind that there is no so clear Facility clear e∣nough for it, that to it the easie and the hard is all alone; that all Subjects equally, and Nature in general, disclaims its Authority, and rejects its Mediation. What does Truth mean, when she preaches to us to fly wordly Philosophy, when she so often inculcates to us,* 1.174 That our Wisdom is but Folly in the sight of God. That the vainest of all Vanities is Man: That the Man who pre∣sumes upon his Wisdom, does not yet know

what Wisdom is; and that Man, who is nothing, if he think himself to be any thing, does seduce and deceive himself? These Sentences of the Holy Ghost do so clearly and lively express that which I would maintain, that I should need no other proof against Men, who would with all Humility and Obedience submit to his Autho∣rity: But these will be whipt at their own Ex∣pence, and will not suffer that a Man oppose their Reason, but by it self. Let us then for once consider a Man alone, without foreign As∣sistance, arm'd only with his own proper Arms, and unfurnished of the Divine Grace and Wis∣dom, which is all his Honour, Strength, and the Foundation of his Being. Let us see what certainty he has, in this fine Equipage. Let him make me understand by the force of his Reason, upon what Foundations he has built those great Advantages, he thinks he has over other Crea∣tures: Who has made him believe, that this admirable Motion of the Celestial Arch, the Eternal Light of those Tapers that roll over his Head, the wonderful Motions of that infinite Ocean, should be established, and continue so many Ages, for his Service and Convenience? Can any thing be imagined so ridiculous, that this miserable and wretched Creature, who is not so much as Master of himself, but subject to the Injuries of all things, should call himself Ma∣ster and Emperour of the World, of which, he has not power to know the least part, much less to command the whole. And this Priviledge which he attributes to himself, of being the only

Creature in this vast Fabrick, that has the Un∣derstanding to discover the Beauty, and the Parts of it; the only one who can return thanks to the Architect, and keep account of the Reve∣nues and Disbursements of the World; Who, I wonder, seal'd him this Patent? Let us see his Commission for this great Employment. Was it granted in favour of the Wise only? Few peo∣ple will be concerned in it. Are Fools and Wicked persons worthy so extraordinary a Fa∣vour? And being the worst part of the World, to be preferred before the rest? Shall we believe Cicero! Quorum igitur causa quis dixerit effectum esse mundum?* 1.175 Eorum cilicet animantium, quae ra∣tione utuntur. Hi sunt Dii & Homines, quibus profectò nihil est melius. For whose sake shall we therefore conclude, that the World was made? For theirs who have the use of Reason: These are Gods and Men, than whom certainly nothing can be bet∣ter. We can never sufficiently decry the Impu∣dence of this Conjunction. But wretched Crea∣ture, what has he in himself worthy of such an Advantage? To consider the incorruptible Ex∣istency of the Celestial Bodies, their Beauty, Magnitude, and continual Revolution by so ex∣act a Rule:

* 1.176Cum suspicimus magna Caelestia mundi Templa super, stellisque micantibus Aethera fixum, Et venit in mentem Lunae, Solisque viarum:

When we above the Heavn'ly Arch behold, And the vast Roof studded with Stars of Gold,

And call to mind the Courses, that the Sun And Moon in their alternate Office run:

To consider the Dominion and Influence those Bodies have, not only over our Lives and Fortunes;

Facta etenim,* 1.177 & vitas hominum suspendit ab astris.

Men's Lives and Actions on the Stars depend.

But even over our Inclinations, our Thoughts and Wills, which they govern, incite, and agi∣tate at the Mercy of their Influences,

— Speculataque longè Deprendit tacitis dominantia legibus astra,* 1.178 Et totum alterna mundum ratione moveri, Fatorùmque vices certis discernere signis.

Contemplating the Stars, he find thaa they Rule by a secret, and a silent sway; And that th' ennamel'd Sphears which rule above, Do ever by alternate Causes move. And studying these, he also can forsee, By certain Signs, the turns of Destiny.

To see that there is not so much as a Man, no, not a King, exempt from this Dominion, but that Monarchies, Empires, and all this lower World, follow the Brawl of these Celestial Motions,

* 1.179Quantaque quàm parvi faciant discrimina motus: Tantum est hoc regnum, quod Regibus imperat ipsis.

How great a change each little motion brings; So great the Kingdom is, that governs Kings.

If our Vertue, our Vices, our Knowledge, and this very Discourse we are upon, of the power of the Stars, and the Comparison we are ma∣king betwixt them and us, proceed, as our Rea∣son supposes, from their Favour:

* 1.180—Furit alter amore, Et pontum tranare potest & vertere Trojam, Alterius sors est scribendis legibus apta: Ecce patrem nati perimunt, natósque parentes, Mutuáque armati coeunt in vulnera fratres, Non nostrum hoc bellum est, coguntur tanta mo∣vere, Inque suas ferri paenas, lacerandàque membra.

One Mad in Love may cross the Raging Seas, T'oreturn proud Ilium's lofty Palaces; Another's Fate inclines him more by far, To spend his time at the litigious Bar. Sons kill their Fathers, Father kill their Sons, And one arm'd Brother 'gainst another runs. This War's not theirs, but Fates that spurs them on, To shed the Blood, which shed, they must bemoan.

If we derive this little Portion of Reason we have from the Bounty of Heaven, how is it possible that Reason should ever make us equal to it? How subject its Essence and Conditions to our Knowledge? Whatever we see in that Body does astonish us; quae molitio, quae ferramenta,* 1.181 qui vectes, quae machinae, qui ministri tanti operis fu∣erunt? What Contrivance, what Tools, what Tim∣ber, what Engines were employed about so stupen∣dious a Work? Why do we deprive it of Soul, of Life and Discourse? Have we discovered in it any immote or insensible Stupidity, we who have no Commerce with the Heavens, but by Obedience? Shall we say that we have disco∣vered in no other Creature, but Man, the use of a reasonable Soul? What, have we seen any thing like the Sun? Does he cease to be, be∣cause we have seen nothing like him? And do his Motions cease, because there are no other like them? If what we have not seen, is not, our Knowledge is wonderfully contracted. Quae sunt tantae animi angustiae? How narrow are our Vnderstandings? Are they not Dreams of Hu∣man Vanity, to make the Moon a Celestial Earth? There to fancy Mountains and Vales, as Anaxagoras did? There to fix Habitations and Human Abodes, and plant Colonies for our convenience, as Plato and Plutarch have done? Of our Earth to make a beautiful and re∣splendent Star?* 1.182 Inter caetera mortalitatis incom∣moda, & hoc est, caligo mentium: Nec tantùm ne∣cessitas errandi, sed errorum amor. Corruptibile corpus aggravat animam, & deprimit terrena in∣habitatio

sensum multa cogitantem. Amongst the other inconveniencies of Mortality, this is one, to have the Vnderstanding clouded, and not only a Necessity of Erring, but a Love of Error. The corruptible Body stupifies the Soul, and the Earth∣ly Habition dulls the Faculties of the imagination. Presumption is our Natural and Original Disease. The most wretched and frail of all Creatures, is Man, and withal the Proudest. He feels, and sees himself lodg'd here in the dirt and filth of the World, nayl••d and rivited to the worst and deadest part of the Universe, in the lowest Story of the House, and most remote from the Heavenly Arch, with Animals of the worst condition of three; and yet in his Imagination will be placing himself above the Circle of the Moon, and bringing the Earth under his Feet. 'Tis by the same vanity of Imagination, that he equals himself to God, attributes to himself Di∣vine Qualities, withdraws and separates himself from the Crowd of other Creatures, cuts out the shares of Animals his Fellows and Compa∣nions, and distributes to them Portions of Facul∣ties and Force, as himself thinks fit. How does he know by the Strength of his Under∣standing, the Secret and internal Motions of Animals? And from what Comparison betwixt them and us, does he conclude the Stupidity he attributes to them? When I play with my Cat, who knows whether I do not make her more sport, than she makes me? We mutually divert one another with our Play. If I have my hour to begin, or to refuse, she also has hers.

Plato, in his Picture of the Golden Age under Saturn, reckons, amongst the chief Advantages, that a Man then had, his communication with Beasts, of whom inquiring and informing himself, he knew the true Qualities and Diffe∣rences of them all, by which he acquired a very perfect Intelligence and Prudence, and led his Life more happily, than we could do. Need we a better Proof to condemn a Human Impu∣dence in the concern of Beasts? This great Au∣thor was of Opinion, that Nature, for the most part, in the Corporal Form she gave them, had only regard to the Usance of Prognosticks, that were in his time thence deriv'd. The de∣fect that hinders Communication betwixt them and us, why may it not be on our part, as well as theirs? 'Tis yet to determine, where the Fault lyes, that we understand not one another; for we understand them no more, than they do us, and by the same reason may think us to be Beasts, as we think them. 'Tis no great wonder if we understand not them, when we do not understand a Basque. And yet some have boasted, that they understood them, as Apollonius Thyaneus, Melampus, Tiresias, Thales, and others. And seeing it is so, as Cosmogra∣phers report, that there are Nations that receive a Dog for their King, they must of necessity be able to interpret his Voice and Motions. We must observe the Parity betwixt us: We have some competent Apprehensions of their Sense, and so have Beasts of ours, and much by the same reason: The caress us, threaten us,

and beg of us, and we do the same to them. As to the rest, we manifestly discover, that they have a full and absolute Communication amongst themselves,* 1.183 and that they perfectly understand one another, not only those of the same, but of divers kinds.

* 1.184Et mutae pecudes, & denique septa ferarum Dissimiles fuerunt voces, variàsque cluere Cùm metus, aut dolor est, aut cùm jam gaudia gliscunt.

The tamer Heards, and wilder sorts of Brutes, Though we, and rightly too, conclude them Mutes, Yet utter dissonant and various Notes, From gentler Lungs, or more distended Throats, As Fear, or Grief, or Anger do them move, Or as they more approach the Joys of Love.

In one kind of barking of a Dog, the Horse knows he is angry; of another sort of Bark, he is not afraid. Even in the very Beasts, that have no Voice at all, we easily conclude from the Society of Offices, we observe amongst them, some other sort of Communication; their very Motions discover it,

* 1.185Non alia longè ratione, atque ipsa videtur Protrahere ad gestum pueros infantia linguae.

As we may see in Tongue-ty'd Infancy, Children by Signs, their want of Speech supply.

And why not as well, as our Mutes dispute, contest, and tell Stories by Signs? Of which I have seen some by practice, so subtle and active that way, that in earnest, they wanted nothing of the perfection of making themselves under∣stood. Lovers are angry, reconcil'd, intreat, thank, appoint, and finally speak all things, by their Eyes.

E'l silentio ancor suole Haver prieghi, & parole.* 1.186

Even silence in a Lover, Love and Courtship can discover.

What, with the Hands? We require, promise, call, dismiss, threaten, pray, supplicate, deny, refuse, interrogate, admire, number, confess, repent, fear, confound, doubt, instruct, com∣mand, incite, incourage, swear, testifie, accuse, condemn, absolve, injure, despise, defy, de∣spite, flatter, applaud, bless, submit, mock, re∣concile, recommend, exalt, entertain, congra∣tulate, complain, grieve, despair, wonder, ex∣claim, and what not? And all this with a Va∣riation and Multiplication, even to the Emula∣tion of Speech. With the Head we invite, re∣mand, confess, deny, give the lye, welcome, ho∣nor, reverence, disdain, demand, rejoice, lament, re∣ject, caress, rebuke, submit, huff, incourage, threa∣ten, assure and inquire. What, with the Eye-brows? What, with the Shoulders? There is not a Motion

that does not speak, and in an Intelligible Lan∣guage without Discipline, and a Publick Language that every one understands: From whence it should follow, the Variety and Usage distin∣guished from others, considered; that these should rather be judged the Propriety of Hu∣man Nature. I omit what necessity particu∣larly does suddenly suggest to those who are in need; the Alphabets upon the Fingers, Gram∣mars in gesture, and the Sciences which are only by them exercised and expressed with the Nations that Pliny reports, have no other Lan∣guage. An Embassadour of the City of Abdera, after a long Conference with Agis, King of Sparta, demanded of him, Well, Sir, What An∣swer must I return to my Fellow-Citizens? That I have given thee leave, (said he) to say what thou wouldest, and as much as thou wouldest, with∣out ever speaking a word. Is not this a silent speaking, and very easie to be understood? As to the rest, what is there in us, that we do not see in the Operations of Animals? Is there a Polity better ordered, the Offices better distri∣buted, and more inviolably observed and main∣tained, than that of Bees? Can we imagine that such, and so regular a Distribution of Em∣ployments, can be carried on without Consi∣sideration and Prudence?

His quidam signis, atque haec exempla sequuti, Esse apibus partem divinae mentis, & haustus Aethereos dixere.

Having contemplated the Working Bees, Their Civil Regiment, and Polices, Some have not stuck presently to conclude, That they in part with reason are endu'd.

The Swallows that we see at the return of the Spring, searching all the Corners of our Houses for the most commodious places wherein to build their Nest, do they seek without judg∣ment, and amongst a thousand, chuse out the most proper for their purpose, without discre∣tion? In that elegant and admirable Contexture of their Building, can Birds rather make choice of a square Figure than a round, of an obtuse, than of a right Angle without knowing their Properties and Effects? Do they bring Water, and than Clay, without knowing that the hard∣ness of the later grows softer by being wet? Do they matt their Palace with Moss or Down, without foreseeing, that their tender Young will lye more safe and easie? Do they secure them∣selves from the Wet and rayny Winds, and place their Lodgings towards the East, without knowing the different Qualities of those Winds, and considering, that one is more comfortable than the other? Why does the Spider make her Web streighter in one place, and slacker in ano∣ther? Why now make one sort of Knot, and then another, if she has not Deliberation, Thought and Conclusion? We sufficiently dis∣cover in most of their Works, how much Ani∣mals excel us, and how unable our Art is to imi∣tate

them. We see nevertheless in our more gross Performances, that we employ all our Fa∣culties, and apply the utmost power of our Souls; why do we not conclude the same of them? Why should we attribute to I know not what Natural and Servile Inclination, the Works that excel all we can do by Nature and Art? Wherein, before we are aware, we give them a mighty Advantage over us, in making Na∣ture, with a maternal Sweetness, to accompany and lead them, as it were, by the hand, to all the Actions and Commodities of their Life, whilst she leaves us to Chance and Fortune,* 1.187 and to seek out, by Art, the things that are neces∣sary to our Conservation, at the same time de∣nying us the means of being able, by any In∣struction or Contention of Understanding, to arrive at the Natural sufficiency of Beasts; so that their brutish Stupidity surpasses, in all Con∣veniencies, all that our Divine Intelligence can do. Really, at this rate, we might with great reason call her an unjust Stepmother: But it is nothing so, our Polity is not so irregular and deform'd. Nature has been generally kind to all her Creatures, and there is not one, she has not amply furnished with all means necessary for the Conservation of his Being. For the com∣mon Complaints that I hear Men make (as the Liberty of their Opinions do one while lift them up to the Clouds, and then again depress them to the Antipodes) that we are the only Animal abandon'd, naked upon the bare Earth, tyed and bound, not having wherewithal to arm

and cloath us, but by the spoil of others; whereas Nature has cover'd all other Creatures, either with Shells, Husks, Bark, Hair, Wool, Prickles, Leather, Downe, Feathers, Scales and Silk, ac∣cording to the Necessities of their Being; has arm'd them with Talons, Teeth and Horns, wherewith to assault and defend, and has her self taught them, that which is most proper for them, to swim, to run, to fly and to sing, whereas Man neither knows how to walk, speak, eat, or do any thing but weep, without teaching.

Tum porro puer ut saevis projectus ab undis,* 1.188 Navita, nudus humi jacet infans, indigus omni Vitali auxilio, cùm primùm in luminis oras Nexibus ex alvo matris natura profudit, Vagitùque locum lugubri complet, aequum est Cui tantùm in vita restet transire malorum: At variae crescunt pecudes, armenta, feraeque, Nec crepitacula eis opus est, nec cuiquam adhi∣benda est Almae nutricis blanda atque infracta loquela: Nec varias quaerunt vestes pro tempore caeli: Denique non armis opus est, non maenibus altis Queis sua tutentur, quando omnibus omnia largè Tellus ipsa parit, naturaque daedala rerum.

Like to the wretched Mariner, when tost By Raging Seas, upon the desart Coast, The tender Babe lies naked on the Earth, Of all supports of Life, stript by his Birth. When Nature first presents him to the day, Freed from the Womb where he imprison'd lay,

He fills the ambient Air with doleful Crys, Foretelling so Lifes future Miseries; But Beasts, both mild and tame, greater and less. Do of themselves in height and bulk encrease: They need no Rattle, nor the broken Chat, By which the Nurse first teaches Boys to prate, They not look out for diff'rent Robes to wear, According to the Seasons of the Year; And need no Arms nor Walls their Goods to save, Since Earth and Liberal Nature ever have, And will, in all abundance still produce, All things whereof they can have need or use.

Those Complaints are false;* 1.189 there is in the Po∣lity of the World a greater Equity, and more uniform Relation. Our Skins are as sufficient to defend us from the Injuries of the Weather, as theirs are them; Witness several Nations, that yet know not the use of Cloaths. Our Ancient Gaules were but slenderly clad, no more than the Irish, our Neighbours, in so cold a Climate: But we may better judge of this by our selves: For all those parts, that we are pleas'd to expose to the Air, are found very able to endure it: If there be a tender part about us, and that seems to be in danger of cold, it should be the Stomach, where the Digestion is, and yet our Fore-fathers wore them always open, and our Ladies as

tender and delicate as they are,* 1.190 go sometimes bare as low as the Navel. Neither is the bind∣ing and swathing of Infants more necessary; and the Lacedemonian Mothers brought up theirs in all Liberty of Motion of Members, without any Ligature at all. Our Crying is common with the greatest part of other Animals, and there are but few Creatures, that are not observ'd to groan, and bemoan themselves a long time after they come into the World; forasmuch as it is a Behaviour sutable to the weakness wherein they find themselves. As to the usage of Eat∣ing, it is in us, as in them, Natural, and with∣out Instruction.

Sentit enim vim quisque suam quam possit abuti.* 1.191

For every one soon finds his Natural Force, Which he, or better may employ; or worse.

Who doubts but an Infant, arriv'd to the strength of feeding himself, may make shift to get his Living? And the Earth produces and offers him wherewithal to supply his Necessity without o∣ther Culture and Artifice, and if not at all times; no more does she do it to Beasts, witness the Provision, we see Ants, and other Creatures, hoard up against the dead Seasons of the Year. The late discover'd Nations, so abundantly fur∣nished with Meat, and Natural Drink without Care, or without Cookery, may give us to un∣derstand, that Bread is not our only Food, and that without Tillage, our Mother Nature has

provided us sufficiently of all we stand in need of; nay, it appears more fully and plentifully, than she does at present, that we have added our own Industry:

* 1.192Et tellus nitidas fruges, vinetaque laeta Sponte sua primum mortalibus ipsa creavit, Ipsa dedit dulces faetus, & pabula laeta, Quae nunc vix nostro gradescunt aucta labore, Conterimusque boves, & vires agricolarum.

The Earth spontaneously did first afford Choice Fruits and Wines to furnish out the Board: She pretty Ofsprings gave, and verdant Fields, Which scarce, by Art, a better Harvest yield; Though Men and Oxen mutually have strove, With all their utmost Force, the Soil to t'improve.

The Debauchery and Irregularity of our Appe∣tite, outstrip all the Inventions we can contrive to satisfie it. As to Arms, we have more that are Natural,* 1.193 than the most part of other Ani∣mals, more various Motions of Members, and naturally, and without Lesson; and extract more Service from them: Those that are trained up to fight naked, are seen to throw themselves into the like hazards, that we do. If some Beasts surpass us in this Advantage, we surpass several others; and the Industry of fortifying the Body, and covering it by acquir'd means, we have by instinct and natural Precept. That it is so, the

Elephant sharpens and whets the Teeth he makes use of in War,* 1.194 (for he has particular ones for that Service, which he spares, and never im∣ploys them at all to any other use) when Bulls go to fight, they toss and throw the Dust about them: Boars whet their Tuskes, and the Ichneumon, when he is to engage with the Croco∣dile, fortifies his Body, covers and crusts it all over with a certain close wrought and well-temper'd Slime, as with a Cuirass; Why shall we not say, That it is also Natural for us to arm our selves with Wood and Iron? As to Speech, it is certain, that if it be not natural, it is not necessary. Nevertheless I believe, that a Child, which had been brought up in an absolute Soli∣tude, remote from all Society of Men (which would be a tryal very hard to make) would have some kind of Speech to express his Mean∣ing: And 'tis not to be suppos'd, that Nature should have denyed that to us, which she has given to several other Animals: For, what is this Faculty, we observe in them of complain∣ing, rejoycing, calling to one another for Suc∣cor, and the softer Murmurings of Love, which they perform with the Voice, other, than Speech? And why should they not speak to one another? They speak to us, and we to them. In how many several Tones do we speak to our Dogs, and they answer us? We converse with them, in another sort of Language, and other Appel∣lations, than we do with Birds, Hogs, Oxen and Horses; and alter the Idiom according to the kind.

Cosi per entro loro schiera bruna S'ammusa l'una con l'altra formica, Forse à piar lor via, & lor fortuna.

Of provident Ants thus do the sable Bands 'Gainst one another head, to head make stands, T'observe each others ways perhaps, and some Perhaps to spy what Prizes are brought home.

Lactantius seems to attribute to Beasts,* 1.195 not on∣ly Speech, but Risibility also. And the diffe∣rence of Language, which is manifest amongst us, according to the variety of Countries, is also observ'd in Animals of the same kind. Ari∣stotle, in proof of this, instances the various Calls of Partridges, according to the Scituations of Places:

* 1.196—Variaeque Volucres Longè alias alio jaciunt in tempore voces, Et partim mutant cum tempestatibus unà Raucisonos cantus.

And sev'ral Birds do from their warbling Throats, At sev'ral times utter quite different Notes, And some their hoarse Songs with the Seasons Change.

But it is yet to be known what Language this Child would speak; and of that what is said by

guess, has no great appearance.* 1.197 If a Man will alledge to me in Opposition to this Opinion, that those who are naturally deaf, speak not: I answer, That that follows not only because they could not receive the Instruction of speak∣ing by Ear; but rather because the Sense of Hearing, of which, they are depriv'd, relates to that of Speaking, and hold together by a na∣tural and inseparable Tye; in such manner, that what we speak, we must first speak to our selves within, and make it first sound in our own Ears, before we can utter it to others. All this I have said to prove the resemblance there is in Hu∣man things; and to bring us back, and joyn us to the Crowd. We are, neither above, nor below the rest. All that is under Heaven (says the Wise Man) runs one Law, and one Fortune.

Indupedita suis fatalibus omnia vinclis.

—All things remain,* 1.198 Kept short, and bound in the same fatal Chain.

There is, indeed, some difference, there are several Orders and Degrees; but it is under the Aspect of one same Nature:

—res quaeque suo ritu procedit,* 1.199 & omnes Faedere Naturae certo discrimina servant.

All things by their own rites proceed and draw Towards their ends by Natures certain Law.

Man must be compell'd, and restrain'd within the Bounds of this Polity. Miserable Creature, he is not in a condition really to step over the Rayl••▪ ••he is fettered, and circumscrib'd, he is subjected to the same Necessity the other Crea∣tures of his Rank and Order are; and of a very mean Condition, without any Prerogative, or true and real Preheminence. That which he attributes to himself by vain Fancy and Opini∣on, has neither Body, nor Tast: And if it be so, that he only of all the Animals, hath this Pri∣viledge of Imagination, and irregularity of Thoughts representing to him that which is, that which is not, and that he would have, the False, and the True; 'tis an Advantage dearly bought, and of which he has very little reason to be Proud: Seeing that from thence springs the principal and original Fountain of all the Evils that befal him, Sin, Sickness, Irresolution, Affliction, and Despair. I say then (to return to my Subject) that there is no apparence to induce a Man to believe, that Beasts should by a natural, and forc'd Inclination, do the same things that we by our Choice, and Industry do. We ought from like Effects to conclude like Faculties, and from greater Effects greater Faculties: and consequently confess, that the same Meditation, and the very same Ways by which we operate, are common with them, or that they have others that are better. Why should we imagine this natural Constraint in them, who experiment no such effect in our selves? Considering that it is more honorable

to be guided, and obliged to act regularly by a natural, and irresistible Disposition, and nearer ally'd to the Divinity, than to act regularly by a temerarious, and fortuitous Liberty; and more safe to entrust the Reins of our Conduct in the Hands of Nature, than our own. The vanity of our Presumption is the Cause, that we had rather own our Sufficiency to our own Industry, than to her Bounty, and that we enrich the other Animals with natural Goods, and abjure them in their Favor, to honor, and enoble our selves with Goods acquired, very foolishly in my Opinion; so I should as much value Parts and Virtues naturally, and purely my own, as those I had begg'd, and obtain'd from Educa∣tion. It is not in our Power to obtein a nobler Reputation, than to be favoured of God, and Nature. For this Reason, should we see the Fox, the People of Thrace make use of, when they will attempt to pass over the Ice of some frozen River, and turn him out before them to that purpose, lay his Ear upon the Banks of the River, down to the Ice, to listen if from a more remote, or nearer Distance, he can hear the noise of the Waters Current, and according as he finds by that, the Ice to be of a less or greater thickness to retire, or advance; had we not a reason to believe from thence, that he had some thoughts, that we should have upon the like Occasion, and that it is a Ratiocinati∣on, and Consequence drawn from natural Sence; that that which makes a noise, runs, that which runs is not frozen, what is not frozen is liquid

and that which is liquid, yeilds to Impression? For to attribute this to a vivacity of the Sence of Hearing without Meditation, and Conse∣quence is a Chimera that cannot enter into the Imagination. We are to suppose the same of so many sorts of Subtleties, and Inventions, with which Beasts secure themselves from, and frust∣rate the Enterprizes we complot against them. And if we will make an Advantage even of this, that it is in our power to seize them, to employ them in our Service, and to use them at our Pleasure, 'tis but still the same Advantage we have over one another. We have our Slaves upon these terms, and the Climacidae, were they not Women in Syria, which being on all four, serv'd for a Ladder, and half Pace, by which the Ladies mounted the Coach? And the greatest part of free Persons, surrender for very trivial Conveniences their Life, and Being, into the Power of another. The Wives, and Con∣cubines of the Thracians contend who shall be chosen to be slain upon their Husbands Tomb. Have Tyrants ever fail'd of finding men enough vow'd to their Devotion: Some of them more∣over adding this necessity of accompanying them in Death, as well as Life? Whole Armies have obliged themselves after this manner to their Captains. The form of the Oath in the rude School of Fencers who were to fight it out to the last, was in these Words: We swear to suf∣fer our selves▪ to be chain'd, burnt, hurt, and kill'd with the Sword, and to endure all that true Gla∣diators suffer from their Master; religiously en∣gaging

both Bodies, and Souls in his Service:

Vre meum si vis flamma caput, & pete ferro Corpus, & inorto verbere terga seca.* 1.200

Wound me with Steel, burn off my Head with Fire, Or scourge my Shoulders with well-twisted Wire.

This was an Obligation indeed,* 1.201 and yet there were some Years, ten thousand who entred in∣to it, and lost themselves in it. When the Scy∣thians interr'd their King, they strangled upon his Body, the most beloved of his Concubines, his Cupbearer, the master of his Horse, his Chamberlain, the Usher of his Chamber, and his Cook. And upon his Anniversary they kill'd fifty Horses mounted by fifty Pages, that they had empail'd all up the spine of the Back to the Throat, and there left them sixt in Tri∣umph about his Tomb. The men that serve us, do it better cheap, and for a less curious and fa∣vorable Usage than that we entertain our Hawkes, Horses, and Dogs withal. To what Solicitude do we not submit for their Conve∣nience? I do not think, that Servant of the most abject Condition would willingly do that for their Masters, that Princes think it an Ho∣nor to do for these Beasts. Diogenes seeing his Relations solicitous to redeem him from Servi∣tude: They are Fools, said he, 'tis that which treats, and nourishes, and that serves me; and

they who make so much of Beasts, ought ra∣ther to be said to serve them, than to be serv'd by them. And withal, they have this of more generous, that one Lyon never submitted to another Lyon; nor one Horse to another, for want of Courage. As we go to the Chace of Beasts, so do Tigers, and Lyons to the Chace of Men; and do the same Execution upon one another, Dogs upon Hares, Pikes upon Tenches, Swallows upon Flies, and Sparhawkes upon Blackbirds, and Larks:

* 1.202—Serpente ciconia pullos Nutrit, & inventa per devia rura lacerta, Et leporem, aut capream famulae Jovis, & ge∣nerosae In saltu venantur aves.

The Storke her young ones nourishes with Snakes, And Lizards found in Meadows, and in Lakes. Joves Eagle trusses Hares, and Birds of Prey, Hawke in the Woods.

We divide the Quarry, as well as the Pains, and Labor of the Chace with our Hawkes, and Hounds. And above Amphipolis in Thrace, the Hawkers, and wild Faulcons equally divide the Prey in the middle: As also along the Lake Maeotis, if the Fishermen do not honestly leave the Wolves an equal Share of what he has caught, they presently go, and tear his Nets

in pieces. And as we have a way of fishing, that is carried on more by Subtlety, than Force, namely angling with Lines, and Hooks, there is also the like amongst other Animals. Aristo∣tle say's, that the Cuttle-Fish casts a Gut-out of his Throat as long, as a Line, which he extends, and draws back at pleasure; and as she perceives some little Fish approach her, she lets it nibble upon the end of this Gut, lying herself con∣ceal'd in the sand, or mud, and by little and little draws it in, till the little Fish is so near her, that at one spring she may surprize it. As to what concerns strength, there is no Crea∣ture in the World expos'd to so many Injuries, as Man: We need not a Whale, an Elephant, or a Crocodile, nor any such like Animals, of which one alone is sufficient to defeat a great number of men, to do our business: Lice are sufficient to vacate Sylla's Dictatorship; and the heart, and life of a great, and triumphant Em∣peror, is the breakfast of a little contemptible Worm. Why should we say, that it is only for man by Knowledg, improv'd by Art and Me∣ditation, to distinguish the things commodious for his being, and proper for the cure of his Di∣seases, to know the virtues of Rhubarb, and Po∣lypody: And when we see the Goates of Candie, when wounded with an Arrow, amongst a mil∣lion of Plants, choose out Dittanie for their cure, and the Tortoise, when she has eaten of a Viper, immediately go to look out for Origa∣num to puage her, the Dragon to rub, and clear his Eyes with Fennel, the Storkes to give them∣selves

Clysters of Sea-Water, the Elephants to draw not only out of their own Bodies, and those of their Companions, but out of the Bo∣dies of their Master too (witness the Elephant of King Porus, whom Alexander defeated) the Dart, and Javelins thrown at them in Battaile, and that so dexterously, that we our selves could not do it with so little pain to the Patient; why do not we say the same, that this is Knowledg, and Prudence? For to alledg to their disparage∣ment, that 'tis by the sole instruction, and dict∣ate of Nature, that they know all this, is not to take from them the dignity of Knowledg, and Prudence: But with greater Argument to attribute it to them, than to us; for the honor of so infallible a Mistrses. Chrysippus, tho' in all other things as scornful a Judg of the conditi∣on of Animals, as any other Philosopher what∣ever, considering the motions of a Dog, who coming to a place where three ways met, either to hunt after his Master he has lost, or in pur∣suit of some Game that flies before him, goes snuffing first in one of the Ways, and then in another, and after having made himself sure of two, without finding the Trace of what he seeks, throws himself into the third without ex∣amination; he is forc'd to confess, that this Consideration is in the Dog, I have followed my Master by the Foot to this place, he must of necessity be gon one of these three ways, he is not gone this way, nor that, he must then infallibly be gone this other: And that assuring himself by this Conclusion, he makes no use of

his Nose, in the third way, nor ever lays it to the ground, but suffers himself to be carried on by the force of Reason. This Sally, which is purely Logical, and this manner of stating Pro∣positions divided, and conjoin'd, and the right enumeration of Parts, is it not every whit as good, that the dog know all this of himself, as to have learnt it by rules of Art? And Ani∣mals are not incapable however, of being in∣structed after our method. We teach Black∣birds, Ravens, Pies, and Parrats to speak; and the Facility and Complacency wherewith we see they lend us their Voices, and render both them, and their Breath so supple, and pliant, to be form'd, and confin'd within a certain num∣ber of Letters and Syllables, does evince, that they have an Examination of things within, which renders them so docile, and willing to learn. Every body, I believe, is glutted with the several sorts of Tricks, that Tumblers teach their Dogs, the Dances where they do not miss any one cadence of the Sound they hear, the several various motions, and leaps, they make them perform by the command of a Word: But I observe this Effect with the greatest Admira∣tion, which nevertheless is very common, of the Dogs, that lead the Blind, both in the Coun∣try, and in Cities: I have taken notice how they stop at certain doors, where they were wont to receive Almes, how they avoided the encounter of Coaches, and Carts, even there where they have had sufficient room to pass; and have seen them by the Trench of a Town,

forsake a plain, and even Path, and take a worse, only to Keep their Masters further from the ditch. How could a Man have made this Dog understand, that it was his Office to look to his Masters Safety only, and to despise his own Conveniency to serve him? And how had he the knowledg, that a way was large enough for him, that was not so for a blind Man? Can all this be apprehended without Ratiocination? I must not omit what Plutarch says he saw of a dog at Rome, with the Emperor Vespasian the Father, at the Theatre of Marcellus. This dog serv'd a Player, that play'd a Farce of several Gestures, and several Persons, and had therein his part. He was amongst other things to coun∣terfit himself for some time dead, by reason of a certain Drug he must be suppos'd to have ea∣ten: After he had swallowed a piece of Bread, which must pass for the Drug, he began after a while to tremble, and stagger, as if he was astonish'd: At last stretching himself out stiff, as if he had been dead, he suffered himself to be drawn, and drag'd from place to place, as it was his part to do; and afterward, when he knew it to be time, he began first gently to stir, as if newly awak'd out of some profound Sleep, and lifting up his Head, look'd about him after such a manner, as astonish'd all the Spectators. The Oxen that serv'd in the royal Gardens of Susa, to water them, and turn certain great Wheels to draw Water for that purpose, to which Buckets were fastned (such as there are many in Languedoc) being ordered every one

to draw a hundred turns a day: They were so accustomed to this Number, that it was impos∣sible by any Force, to make them draw one turn more, but, their Task being perform'd, they would suddainly stop, and stand still. We are almost Men before we can count a hundred, and have lately discovered Nations that have no knowledg of Numbers at all. There is more Understanding required in the teaching of o∣thers, than in being taught. But setting aside what Democritus held, and prov'd, that most of the Arts we have, were taught us by other Ani∣mals: As the Spider, to weave and few, the Swallow to build, the Swan and Nightingale Musick, and several Animals by their imitation to make Medicines. Aristotle is of Opinion, that the Nightingales teach their young ones to sing, and spend a great deal of time, and care in it, from whence it happens, that those we bring up in Cages, and have not had time to learn of their Dams, want much of the grace of their singing. We may judg by that, that they improve by Discipline and Study: And even amongst the wild, it is not all one, and every one alike, every one has learnt to do better, or worse, according to their Capacity. And so jealous are they of one another, whilst learn∣ing, that they contend with Emulation, and so vigorous a Contention, that sometimes the van∣quished fall dead upon the place, the Breath ra∣ther failing, than the Voice. The younger ru∣minate pensive, and begin to mutter some broken Notes; the Disciple listens to the Masters

Lesson, and gives the best account he is able; they are silent by turns, one may hear Faults corrected, and observe some Reprehensions of the Teacher. I have formerly seen, says Arius, an Elephant having a Cymbal hung at each Leg,* 1.203 and another fastned to his Trunck, at the sound of which, all the others danc'd round about him, rising, and falling at certain Cadences, as they were guided by the Instrument, and took a de∣light in Harmony. In the Spectacles of Rome, there were ordinarily seen Elephants taught to move and dance,* 1.204 to the sound of the Voice, Dances wherein were several Changes, and Steps, and Cadences very hard to learn. And some have been seen in private, so intent upon their Lesson, as to practise it by themselves, that they might not be chidden, nor beaten by their Masters. But this other Story of the Pie, of which we have Plutarch himself for warrant, it is very strange: She was in a Barbers Shop at Rome, and did Wonders in imitating with her Voice, whatever she heard. It hapned one day, that certain Trumpeters stood a good while sounding before the Shop: after that, and all the next day, the Pie was pensive, dumb, and melancholick;* 1.205 which every body wondered at, and thought that the noise of the Trumpets, had so stupified and astonish'd her, and that her Voice was gone with her Hearing: But they found at last, that it was a profound Me∣ditation, and a Retiring into herself, her Thoughts exercising and preparing her Voice to imitate the Sound of those Trumpets, so

that the first Voice she uttered, was perfectly to imitate their Strains, Stops, and Changes; having by this new Lesson quitted, and dis∣dain'd all she had learn'd before. I will not o∣mit this other Example of a Dog also, which the same Plutarch says he saw, being on ship∣board.* 1.206 This Dog being puzzeled how to get the Oyl that was in the bottom of a Cruce, which he could not reach with his Tongue, by reason of the narrow Mouth of the Vessel, went, and fetch'd Stones, and let them fall into the Jar, till he made the Oyl rise so high, that he could reach it. What is this but an effect of a very subtle Capacity? 'Tis said that the Ravens of Barbarie do the same, when the Water they would drink is too low. This Action is some∣thing a-kin to what Juba, a King of their Na∣tion, relates of the Elephants; then, when by the Craft of the Hunter, one of them is trapt in certain deep Pits prepared for them, and covered over with Brush, to deceive them, all the rest, in great diligence, bring a great many Stones,* 1.207 and Logs of Wood to raise the Bottom so, that they may get out. But this Animal, in several other Effects comes so near to human Capaci∣ty, that should I particularly relate all that Ex∣perience hath deliver'd to us, I should easily have, what I usually maintain, granted, namely, that there is no more difference betwixt such and such a Man, than betwixt such a Man and such a Beast. The Keeper of an Elephant in a private House of Syria, rob'd him every Meal, of the half of his Allowance: One day his Master

would himself feed him, and poured the full measure of Barly he had ordered for his Allow∣ance,* 1.208 into his Manger; at which, the Elephant casting an angry Look at his Keeper, with his Trunck separated the one half from the other, and thrust it aside, by that declaring the Wrong was done him. And another, having a Keeper that mixt Stones with his Corn, to make up the Measure, came to the Pot where he was boyling Flesh for his own Dinner, and fill'd it with Ashes. These are particular Effects: But that which all the World has seen, and all the World knows, that in all the Armies of the Le∣vant, one of their greatest Forces consisted in Elephants, with whom they did, without com∣parison, much greater Execution, than we now do with our Artillerie; which is, as it were, in their stead in a day of Battail, (as may easily be suppos'd by such, as are well read in antient History.)

* 1.209—Siquidem Tyrio servire solebant Annibali, & nostris ducibus, regique Molosso Horum Majores, & dorso ferre Cohortes, Partem aliquam Belli, & euntem in praelia tur∣mam.

Of these, those of the largest size were wont The Carthaginian Hannibal to mount: Our Leaders too these mighty Beasts bestrid; An Elephant, great King Molossus rid; Nay more, upon their Backs they us'd to bear Whole Bands, and Cohorts when they went to War.

They must necessarily very confidently rely upon the Fidelity, and Understanding of these Beasts, when they entrusted them with the Vantguard of a Battail, where the least stop they should have made by reason of the bulk, and heaviness of their Bodies, and the least Fright that should have made them face about upon their own People, had been enough to spoil all. And there are but few Examples where it has hapned, that they have fallen foul upon their own Troops, whereas we our selves, break in∣to our own Battalions, and rout one another. They had the Commission, not of one simple Motion only, but of many several things they were to perform in the Battail: As the Spani∣ards did to their Dogs in their new Conquest of the Indies, to whom they gave Pay, and allow∣ed them a share in the Spoil; and those Animals shew'd as much Dexterity, and Judgment in pursuing the Victory, and stopping the Pursuit; in charging and retiring as Occasion requir'd, and in distinguishing their Friends from their Enemies, as they did Ardour and Feirceness. We more admire, and value things that are un∣usual and strange, than those of ordinary Ob∣servation. I had not else so long insisted upon these Examples: For I believe, whoever shall strictly observe what we ordinarily see in those Animals we have amongst us, may there find as wonderful Effects, as those we fetch from re∣mote Countries, and Ages, 'Tis one same Na∣ture, that rouls her Course, and whoever had sufficiently considered the present state of things,

might certainly conclude both the future, and the past. I have formerly seen Men brought hi∣ther by Sea, from very distant Countries, whose Language being not understood by us, and that moreover their Meen, Countenance, and Ha∣bit, were quite differing from ours; which of us did not repute them Savages, and Brutes? Who did not attribute it to Stupidity, and want of common Sence, to see them mute, ignorant of the French Tongue, ignorant of our Saluta∣tions, and Cringes, our Port, and Behavior, from which all human Nature must by all means take its Pattern, and Example. All that seems strange to us, and that we do not understand, we condemn. The same things happen also in the Judgment we make of Beasts: They have several Conditions, like to ours; from those we may by Comparison draw some Conjecture: But those Qualities that are particular to them∣selves, what know we what to make of them? The Horses, Dogs, Oxen, Sheep, Birds, and most of the Animals that live amongst us, know our Voices, and suffer themselves to be govern'd by them: So did Crassus his Lamprey, and came when he call'd it, as also do the Eeles that are in the Lake Arethusa; and I have seen several Stews, where the Fishes run to eat at a certain call of those who use to feed them.

—nomen habent, & ad magistri * 1.210Vocem quisque sui venit citatus.

They every one have their own Names, and all Straightway appear at their own Masters Call.

We may judg of that; We may also say, that the Elephants have some participation of Reli∣gion, forasmuch as after several Washings,* 1.211 and Purifications, they are observ'd to lift up their Truncks like Armes, and fixing their Eyes to∣wards the rising of the Sun, continue long in Meditation, and Contemplation, at certain Houres of the Day, of their own Motion, with∣out Instruction, or Precept. But because we do not see any such Signes in other Animals, we cannot for that conclude, that they are with∣out Religion; nor make any Judgment of what is conceal'd from us. As we discern something in this Action, which the Philosopher Cleanthes took notice of, because it something resembles our own. He saw, he say's, Ants go from their Ant-hill, carrying the dead Body of an Ant to∣wards another Ant-hill, from whence several other Ants came out to meet them,* 1.212 as if to speak, and expostulate with them; where after having been a pretty while together, the last re∣turn'd, to consult, you may suppose, with their fellow Citizens, and so made two or three Jour∣neys, by reason of the difficulty of Capitulati∣on: In the Conclusion, the last commers brought the first a Worm out of their Burrow, as it were for the Ransom of the Defunct, which the first laid upon their Backs, and carried home,

leaving the dead Body to the others. This was the Interpretation that Cleanthes gave of this Transaction, giving us by that to understand, that those Creatures that have no Voice, are not, nevertheless, without Practice, and mutual Com∣munication, whereof 'tis thorough our own Defect, that we do not participate; and for that reason, foolishly take upon us to pass our Censure. But they yet produce other Effects, far beyond our Capacity, to which we are so far from being able to arrive by imitation, that we cannot so much, as by imitation conceive it. Many are of Opinion, that in the great, and last naval Engagement, that Anthony lost to Au∣gustus, his admiral Galley was stay'd in the mid∣dle of her Course, by the little Fish the Latins call Remora, by reason of the Property she has of staying all sorts of Vessels, to which she fastens herself. And the Emperor Caligula, sayling with a great Navy upon the Coast of Romania, his Galley only was suddainly stay'd by the same Fish; which he caus'd to be taken, fastned as it was to the Keel of his Ship, very angry that such a little Animal could resist both the Sea, the Wind, and the force of all his Oars, by being only fastned by the Beak to this Galley, (for it is a Shell-Fish and was moreover, not without great Reason, astonish'd, that being brought to him in the Long-Boat, it had no more the Strength it had without. A Citizen of Zycicus, formerly acquired the Reputation of a good Ma∣thematician, for having learnt the Condition of the Hedghog. He has his Burrow open in di∣verse

verse places, and to several Winds, and fore∣seeing the Wind that is to come, stops the Hole on that side, which the Citizen observing, gave the City certain Predictions of the Wind, which was presently to blow.* 1.213 The Cameleon takes her Colour from the Place upon which it is laid; but the Polypus, gives himself what Colour he pleases, according to Occasion, either to con∣ceal himself from what he fears, or from that he has a design to seize: In the Cameleon 'tis a pas∣sive, but in the Polypus 'tis an active Change. We have some Changes of Colour, as in Fear, An∣ger, Shame, and other Passions, that alter our Complexions; but it is by the effect of Suffring, as with the Cameleon. It is in the Power of the Jaundice indeed, to make us turn Yellow, but 'tis not in the Power of our own Will. Now these Effects that we discover in other Animals, much greater than ours, seem to imply some more excellent Faculty in them, unknown to us; as 'tis to be presum'd several other Qualities, and Abilities of theirs are, of which no appearen∣ces have arriv'd at us. Amongst all the Pre∣dictions of Elder times, the most antient,* 1.214 and the most certain, were those taken from the Flights of Birds, we have nothing like it, not a∣ny thing so much to be admired. That rule, and order of the moving of the Wing, from whence they deriv'd the Consequences of future things, must of necessity be guided by some ex∣cellent means, to so noble an Operation: For to attribute this great Effect to any natural Dispo∣sition, without the Intelligence, Consent, and

Meditation of him by whom it is produc'd, is an Opinion evidently False: That it is so, the Cramp-Fish has this Quality, not only to be∣numn all the Members that touch her, but even through the Nets transmit a heavy dulness into the Hands of those that move, and handle them; nay it is further said, that if one powre Water upon her, he will feel this Numness mount up the Water to the Hand, and stupify the Feeling thorough the Water. This is a miraculous Force; but 'tis not useless to the Cramp-Fish, she knows it, and makes use on't, for to catch the Prey she desires, she will bury herself in the Mud, that other Fishes, swiming over her, struck and benumn'd with this Coldness of hers, may fall into her Power. Cranes, Swallows, and o∣ther Birds of Passage, by shifting their Abode, according to the Seasons, sufficiently manifest the knowledg they have of their divining Fa∣culty, and put it in use. Huntsmen assure us, that to cull out from amongst a great many Pup∣pies, that which ought to be preserv'd for the best, the best way is to refer the Choise to the Damm, as thus, take them, and carry them out of the Kennel, and the first she brings back, will certainly be the best: Or if you make a shew as if you would environ the Kennel with Fire, those that she first catches up to Save. By which it appears they have another sort of Prognostick, than we have; or that they have some Virtue in judging of their Whelps, other, and more cer∣tain than we have. The manner of coming into the World, of Engendring, Nourishing, Acting,

Moving, Living, and Dying of Beasts, is so near to ours, that what ever we retrench from their moving Causes, and add to our own Con∣dition above theirs, can by no means proceed from any Meditation of our own Reason. For the Regiment of our Health, Physitians propose to us the Example of the Beasts Manners, and way of living, for this saying, has in all times, been in the Mouth of the People.

Tenez chaud les pieds, & la teste,* 1.215 Au demeurant vivez en beste.

Keep warm thy Feet, and Head, as to the rest, Live like a Beast.

Generation is the principal of all natural Acti∣ons. We have a certain Disposition of Mem∣bers, most proper, and convenient for us in that Affair: Nevertheless, we are ordered to con∣form to the Posture of Brutes, as the most ef∣fectual.

—more ferarum,* 1.216 Quadrupedumque magis ritu, plerumque putan∣tur, Concipere uxores: quia sic loca sumere possunt, Pectoribus positis, sublatis semina lumbis.

And condemn as hurtful, those extravagant, and indiscreet Motions the Women have super∣added to the Work, reducing them to the Ex∣ample, and practice of Beasts of their own Sex, more Sober, and Modest.

* 1.217Nam mulier prohibet se concipere atque repugnat, Clunibus ipsa viri Venerem si laeta retractet, Atque exossato ciet omni pectore fluctus. Ejicit enìm sulci recta regione viáque Vomerem, atque locis avertit seminis ictum.

If it be Justice to render to every one their Due, the Beasts that Serve, Love, and Defend their Benefactors, and that Pursue and fall upon Strangers▪ and those who Offend them, do in this represent a certain air of our Justice: As also in observing a very equitable Equality in the distribution of what they have, to their Young; and as to Friendship, they have it with∣out Comparison more lively, and constant, than Men have.* 1.218 King Lysimachus his Dog Hyracan, his Master being dead, lay upon his Bed, ob∣stinately refusing either to eat, or drink, and the day that his Body was burnt, he took a run, and leap'd into the Fire, where he was consum'd. As also did the Dog of one Pyrrhus; for he would not stir from off his Masters Bed, from the time that he died; and when they carried him away, let himself be carried with him, and at last leap'd into the Pile, where they burnt his Master's Body. There are certain Inclina∣tions of Affection, which sometimes spring in us, without the consultation of Reason; and by a fortuitous Temerity, which others call Sym∣pathy: Of which, Beasts are as capable, as we. We see Horses take such an Acquaintance with one another, that we have much ado to make

them eat or travail, when separated: We ob∣serve them to fancy a particular Colour in those of their own kind, and where they meet it, run to it with great Joy and Demonstrations of Good Will, and have a dislike and hatred for some other Colour. Animals have choice, as well as we, in their Amours, and cull out their Mistresses; neither are they exempt from our Jealousies and implacable Malice. Desires are either natural and necessary, as to eat and drink; or natural and not necessary, as the coupling with Females; or neither natural nor necessary: Of which last sort, are almost all the Desires of Men: They are all superfluous and artificial: For 'tis not to believed, how little will satisfie Nature, how little she has left us to desire: Our Ragous and Kickshaws are not of her Or∣dinary. The Stoicks say, that a Man may live of an Olive a day: Our delicacy in our Wines is no part of her Instruction, nor the over-acting the Ceremonies of Love.

—neque illa Magno prognatum deposcit Consule cunnum.* 1.219

These irregular Desires, that the Ignorance of Good, and a false Opinion have infus'd into us, are so many, as they almost exclude all the Na∣tural; no otherwise, than if there were so great a number of Strangers in a City, as to thrust out the Natural Inhabitants, or usurping upon their Ancient Rights and Priviledges should extinguish their Authority, and introduce new Laws and

Customs of their own. Animals are much more regular than we,* 1.220 and keep themselves with greater moderation within the limits Nature has prescrib'd; but yet not so exactly, that they have not an Analogy with our Debauches. And as there have been known furious Desires, that have hurried Men to the love of Beasts, so there has been examples of Beasts that have fallen in love with us, and caught with mon∣strous Affection betwixt different kinds: Wit∣ness the Elephant who was rival to Aristophanes the Grammarian in the love of a young Herb∣wench in the City of Alexandrin, who was no∣thing behind him in all the Offices of a very passionate Suitor: For going through the Mar∣ket where they sould Fruit, he would take some in his Trunck, and carry them to her: He would as much as possible keep her always in his sight, and would sometimes put his Trunck under her Hankerchief into her Bosom to feel her Breasts. They tell also of a Dragon in love with a Maid, and of a Goose enamor'd of a Child, of a Ram that was Servant to the Min∣strelless Glaucia, and we see with our own eyes, Baboons furiously in love with Women. We see also certain Male Animals, that are fond of the Males of their own kind. Oppianus, and o∣thers give us some examples of the Reverence that Beasts have to their Kindred in their Co∣pulations; but experience often shews us the contrary.

—nec habetur turpe juvencae Ferre patrem tergo: Fit equo sua filia conjux:* 1.221 Quasque creavit, init pecudes caper: Ipsaque cujus Semine concepta est, ex illo concepit ales.

The Heifer thinks it not a shame to take Her curled Sire upon her willing Back: The Horse his Daughter leaps; Goats scruple not T'encrease the Heard by those they have begot. And Birds of all sorts do in common live, And by the Seed they were conceiv'd con∣ceive.

And for malicious Subtilty, can there be a more pregnant example, than in the Philosopher Thales's Mule? Who foarding a River loaden with Salt, and by accident stumbling there, so that the Sacks he carried were all wet, perceiving that by the melting of the Salt, his Burthen was something lighter, he never failed so oft as he came to any River to lye down with his Load; till his Master discovering the Knavery, order'd that he should be loaden with Wool, wherein finding himself mistaken, he ceas'd to practise that Device. There are several, that very lively represent the true Image of our Avarice, for we see them infinitely solicitous to catch all they can, and hide it with exceeding great Care, though they never make any use of it at all. As to Thrift, they surpass us not only in

the foresight and laying up, and saving for the time to come, but they have moreover a great deal of the Science necessary thereto. The Ants bring abroad into the Sun their Grain and Seeds to air, refresh and dry them, when they per∣ceive them to mould and grow musty, lest they should decay and rot. But the caution and pre∣vention they use in gnawing their Grains of Wheat, surpass all Imagination of Human Pru∣dence: For by reason that the Wheat does not always continue sound and dry; but grows soft, thaws and dissolves, as if it were steept in Milk, whilst hasting to Germination, for fear lest it should shoot, and lose the Nature and Pro∣perty of a Magazine for their subsistence, they nibble of the end by which it should shoot and sprit. As to what concerns War, which is the greatest and most magnificent of Human Acti∣ons, I would very fain know, whether we would serve for an Argument of some Prerogative, or on the contrary for a Testimony of our Weak∣ness and imperfection; as in truth the Science of undoing and killing one another, and of ru∣ining and destroying our own kind, has nothing in it so tempting, as to make it be coveted by Beasts who have it not.

—quando leoni Fortior eripuit vitam Leo, quo nemore unquam Expiravit aper majoris dentibus Apris?

—who ever yet beheld A weaker Lyon by a stronger kill'd;

Or in what Forrest was it ever known That a small Boar dy'd by a mighty one?

* 1.222Yet are they not universally exempt, Witness the furious Encounters of Bees, and the Enter∣prizes of the Princes of the contrary Armies:

—saepè duobus* 1.223 Regibus incessit magno discordia motu, Continuoque animos vulgi, & trepidantia bello Corda licet longè praesciscere.

Betwixt two Kings strange Animosities, With great Commotion often do arise, When streight the Vulgar sort are heard from far, Sounding their little Trumpets to the War.

I never read this Divine Observation, but that, methinks, I there see Human Folly and Vanity represented in their true and lively Colours. For these Preparations for War that so fright and astonish us with their Noise and Tumult, this rattle of Guns, Drums and confused Voices:

Fulgur ubi ad caelum se tollit,* 1.224 totàque circum Aere renidescit tellus, subterque virum vi Excitur pedibus sonitus, clamoreque montes Icti rejectant voces ad sidera mundi.

When burnish'd Arms to Heav'n dart their Rays, And the Earth glows with Beams of shining Brass.

And trampled is by Horses, and by Men, Until the Center even groans again, And that the Rocks, struck by the various Crys, Reverberate the Sound unto the Skies.

In the dreadful embattelling of so many thou∣sands of Armed Men, and so great Fury, Ar∣dour and Courage, 'tis pleasant to consider, by what idle occasion they are excited, and by how light ones appeas'd.

* 1.225Paridis propter narratur amorem, Graecia Barbariae diro collisa duello.

Of wanton Paris the illicite Love, Did Greece and Troy to ten years Slaughter move.

All Asia was ruin'd and destroy'd for the ungo∣vern'd lust of one lascivious Paris.* 1.226 The Envy of one single Man, a Despite, a Pleasure or a Domestick Jealousie, Causes, that ought not to set two Oyster-wenches by the Ears, is the mover of all this mighty Bustle. Shall we be∣lieve those who are themselves the Principal Authors of these Mischiefs? Let us then hear the greatest and most victorious Emperour, that ever was, making sport of, and, with marvel∣lous Ingenuity, descanting upon, and turning en ridicule, several Battels fought both by Sea and Land, the Blood and Lives of five hundred thousand Men that followed his Fortune, and

the Strength and Riches of two parts of the World drain'd for the expence of his Expeditions.

Quod futuit Glaphyran Antonius,* 1.227 hanc mihi pae∣nam Fulvia constituit, se quoque uti futuam. Fulviam ego ut futuam? Quid si me Maenius oret Paedicem, faciam? Non puto, si sapiam. Aut futue aut pugnemus, ait: Quid si mihi vita Charior est ipsa mentula? Signa canant.

(I use my Latin with the Liberty of Conscience you are pleas'd to allow me.) Now this great Body has so many Fronts, and has so many Mo∣tions, as seems to threaten Heaven and Earth,

Quàm multi Lybico volvuntur marmore fluctus,* 1.228 Saevis ubi Orion hybernis conditur undis: Vel cum sole novo densae torrentur Aristae, Aut Hermi campo, aut Lyciae flaventibus arvis, Scuta sonant, pulsùque pedum tremit excita tellus.

As num'rous as the Lybian Waves that rowl, When in those Seas Orion does controul; Or thick-set Ears scorch'd by the Summers Ray, On Hermus Banks, or fruitful Lycia,

Are the bright Shields, that dreadfully re∣sound; And as they march, their Footing shakes the Ground.

This furious Monster with so many Heads and Arms, is yet Man, feeble, calamitous and mi∣serable Man. 'Tis but an Ant-hill of Ants di∣sturb'd and provoak'd by a Spurn,

It nigrum campis agmen.

* 1.229The black Troop marches to the Field.

A contrary Blast, the croaking of a flight of Ra∣vens, the Stumble of a Horse, the casual Pas∣sage of an Eagle, a Dream, a Voice, a Sign, a Morning Mist are any one of them sufficient to beat down and over-turn him. Dart but a Sun-beam in his Face, he is melted and vani∣shed. Blow but a little Dust in his Eyes, as our Poet says of the Bees; and all our Ensigns and Legions, with the Great Pompey himself at the Head of them, are routed and crushed to pieces: For it was he, as I take it, that Serto∣rius beat in Spain, with those brave Arms; which also serv'd Eumenes against Antigonus, and Surena against Crassus:

* 1.230Hi motus animorum, atque haec certamina tanta Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescent.

This mighty Anger, and these furious Blows, A handful of Dust thrown, will soon compose.

Let us but slip our Flies after them, and they will have the Force and Courage to defeat them. Of fresh Memory the Portuguese having beseig'd the City of Tamly in the Territory of Xiatine, the Inhabitants of the place brought a great many Hives,* 1.231 of which are great plenty in that place, upon the Wall; and with Fire drove the Bees so furiously upon the Enemy, that they gave over the Enterprize, and truss'd up their Baggage, being not able to stand their Attacks, and endure their Stings. And so their City, by this new sort of relief, was freed from the Danger, with so wonderful a Fortune, that at their return from the Pursuit, they found they had not lost so much as one Man. The Souls of Emperours and Coblers are cast in the same Mould. The weight and importance of the Actions of Princes consider'd, we persuade our selves that they must be produced by some as weighty and important Causes: But we are deceiv'd, for they are pushed on, and pull'd back in their Motions, by the same Springs, that we are in our little Undertakings. The same rea∣son that makes us wrangle with a Neighbour, causes a War betwixt Princes; the same reason that makes us whip a Lacquay, falling into the Hands of a King, makes him ruin a whole Pro∣vince. They are as prompt, and as easily mov'd as we, but they are able to do more Mischief.

In a Gnat and an Elephant the Passion is the same. As to what concerns Fidelity, there is no Animal in the World so treacherous as a Man. Our Histories have recorded the violent Pursuits that Dogs have made after the Mur∣therers of their Masters.* 1.232 King Pyrrhus obser∣ving a Dog that watch'd a dead Man's Body, and understanding that he had for three days toge∣ther performed that Office, commanded that the Body should be buried, and took the Dog along with him. One day as he was at a general Mu∣ster of his Army, this Dog was aware of his Masters Murtherers, and with great Barking, and extream signs of Anger, flew upon them, by this first Accusation, awaking the Revenge of this Murther, which was soon after perfected by Form of Justice. As much was done by the Dog of the wise Hesiod, who convinced the Sons of Ganister of Naupactus of the Murther committed in the person of his Master. Ano∣ther Dog being to guard a Temple at Athens, having spied a Sacrilegious Thief, who car∣ried away the fairest Jewels,* 1.233 fell to barking at him with all the force he had; But the Warders not awaking at the Noise, he followed him, and, day being broke, kept off at a farther distance, without losing sight of him; if he offer'd him any thing to eat, would not take it, but would wag his Tail at all the Passengers he met, and took whatever they gave him at their hands; and if the Thief laid down to sleep, he likewise stayed upon the place. The News of this Dog being come to the Warders of this Church, they

put themselves upon the pursuit, inquiring of the Colour of the Dog, and at last found him in the City of Cromyon, and the Thief also whom they brought back to Athens, where he had his reward: And where the Judges, taking Cognizance of the good Office, order'd a cer∣tain Measure of Corn for the Dog's daily Suste∣nance, at the Publick Charge, and the Priest's to take care in it. Plutarch delivers this Story for a most certain truth, and that hapned in the Age wherein he liv'd. As to Gratitude (for I doubt, we had need bring this word into a little greater repute) this one example, which Appion reports himself to have been an Eye-witness of,* 1.234 shall suffice. One day (says he) that at Rome they entertain'd the people with the pleasure of the fighting of several strange Beasts, and prin∣cipally of Lyons of an unusual size; there was one amongst the rest, who, by his furious De∣portment, by the strength and largeness of his Limbs, and by his loud and dreadful Roaring, attracted the Eyes of all the Spectators. A∣mongst other Slaves, that were presented to the people in this Combat of Beasts, there was one Androdus of Dacia, belonging to a Roman Lord of Consular Dignity. This Lyon having seen him at distance, first made a sudden stop, as it were, in a wondring posture, and then softly approached nearer in a gentle and peace∣able manner, as if it were to enter into acquain∣tance with him. This being done, and being now assured of what he sought for, he began to wag his Tail, as Dogs do when they flatter

their Masters, and to kiss and lick the Hands and Thighs of the poor Wretch, who was be∣sides himself, and almost dead with fear. An∣drodus being by this kindness of the Lyon, a little come to himself, and having taken so much heart, as to consider and know him; it was a singular Pleasure to see the Joy and Ca∣resses that passed betwixt them. At which, the people breaking into loud Acclamations of Joy, the Emperour caus'd the Slave to be call'd, to know from him the cause of so strange an Event; who, thereupon told him a new and a very strange Story: My Master (said he) being Proconsul in Africk, I was constrained by his Severity and cruel Usage, being daily beaten, to steal from him, and to run away. And to hide my self securely from a person of so great Au∣thority in the Province, I thought it my best way to fly to the Solitudes, Sands, and unin∣habitable parts of that Country, resolv'd, that in case the means of supporting Life should chance to fail me, to make some shift or other to kill my self. The Sun being excessively hot at Noon, and the Heat intolerable, I acciden∣tally found a private and almost inaccessible Cave, and went into it. Soon after there came in to me this Lyon with one Foot wounded and bloody; complaining and groaning with the Pain he indur'd: At his coming I was exceed∣ingly afraid, but he having espied me hid in a corner of his Den, came gently to me, holding out, and shewing me his wounded Foot, as if he demanded my assistance in his distress. I

then drew out a great Splinter he had got there, and growing a little more familiar with him, squeezing the Wound, thrust out the Dirt and Gravel was got into it, wiped and cleansed it the best I could: He finding himself something better, and much easied of his Pain, laid him down to repose, and presently fell asleep with his Foot in my hand. From that time for∣ward he and I lived together in this Cave three whole years, upon one and the same Diet; for of the Beasts that he kill'd in hunting, he always brought me the best pieces, which I roasted in the Sun for want of Fire, and so eat it. At last growing weary of this wild and brutish Life, the Lyon being one day gone abroad to hunt for our ordinary Provision, I escaped from thence, and the third day after was taken by the Soul∣diers, who brought me from Africk to this City to my Master, who presently condemn'd me to dye, and to be thus expos'd to the wild Beasts. Now by what I see, I perceive that this Lyon was also taken soon after, who would now have recompensed me for the Benefit and Cure that he receiv'd at my hands. This is the Story that Androdus told the Emperour, which he also conveyed from hand to hand to the peo∣ple: Wherefore at the general Request, he was absolved from his Sentence, and set at liberty; and the Lyon was by order of the people, pre∣sented to him. We afterwards saw (says Ap∣pion) Androdus leading this Lyon, in nothing but a small Leash, from Tavern to Tavern at Rome, and receiving what Money every body

would give him, the Lyon being so gentle, as to suffer himself to be covered with the Flowers that the People threw upon him,* 1.235 every one that met him, saying, There goes the Lyon that en∣tertain'd the Man, there goes the Man that cur'd the Lyon. We oft lament the loss of the Beasts we love, and so do they the loss of us.

* 1.236Post bellator equus, positis insignibus, Aethon It lacrymans, guttisque humectat grandibus ora.

—The Triumph more to Grace, Aethon his Horse of War, came next in place, Who of his Trappings stript, shew'd such re∣gret, That with large Tears his hairy Cheeks were wet.

As some Nations have their Wives in Common, and some others have every one his own: Is not the same evident amongst Beasts, and Mar∣riages better kept than ours? As to the Socie∣ty, and Confederation they make amongst themselves, to league themselves together, and to give one another mutual Assistance:* 1.237 Is it not manifest, that Oxen, Hogs, and other Ani∣mals, at the Cry of any of their Kind, that we offend, all the Heard run to his Ayde, and em∣body for his Defence?* 1.238 The Fish Scarus, when he has swallowed the Anglers Hook, his Fellows all crowd about him, and gnaw the Line in pei∣ces; and if by chance, one be got into the Leap, or Whele, the others present him their Tayls on

the out side, which he holding fast with his Teeth, they after that manner disengage, and draw him out. Mullets, when one of their Companions is engaged, cross the Line over their back, and with a Fin they have there, in∣dented like a Saw, cut and saw it asunder. As to the particular Offices that we receive from one another, for the Service of Life, there are se∣veral like Examples amongst them. 'Tis said, that the Whale never moves, that she has not always before her a little Fish, like the See-Gud∣gion, for this reason call'd the Guide-Fish; whom the Whale Follows, suffering himself to be led, and turn'd with as great Facility, as the Stern guides the Ship: In Recompence of which Ser∣vice also, whereas all other things, whether Beast, or Vessel, that enters into the dreadful Gulf of this Monsters Mouth, is immediately lost, and swallowed up, this little Fish retires into it in great Security, and there sleeps, du∣ring which, the Whale never stirs: But so soon as ever it goes out, he immediately follows: and if by accident he loses the sight of his little Guide, he goes wandring here, and there, and strikes his Sides against the Rocks, like a Ship that has lost her Rudder: Which Plutarch af∣firms to have seen in the Island of Anticyra. There is a like Society betwixt the little Bird call'd a Wren, and the Crocodile; the Wren serves for a Centinel over this great Animal: And if the Ichneumon, his mortal Enemy, approach to fight him, this little Bird, for fear lest he should surprize him a sleep, both with his Voice, and

Bill, rouses him, and gives him notice of his Danger. He feeds of this Monsters Leavings, who receives him familiarly into his Mouth, suf∣fering him to pick in his Jaws, and betwixt his Teeth, and thence to pick out the Bits of Flesh that remain, and when he has a mind to shut his Mouth, he first gives the Bird warning to go out, by closing it by little and little, with∣out bruising, or doing it any harm at all. The Shell-Fish, call'd a Naker, lives also with the Shrimp in the same Intelligence; a little sort of Animal, of the Lobster kind, serving him in the Nature of a Porter, sitting at the opening of the Shell, which the Naker keeps always gaping and open, till the Shrimp sees some little Fish, proper for their Prey, within the hollow of the Shell, for then she enters too, and pinches the Naker so to the Quick, that she is forc'd to close her Shell, where they two together devour the Prey they have trapt in their Fort. In the man∣ner of living of the Tunnies, we observe a singu∣lar Knowledge of the three parts of Mathema∣ticks. As to Astrologie, they teach it Men, for they stay in the Place where they are surpriz'd by the Brumal Solstice, and never stir from thence till the next Equinox: For which Rea∣son, Aristotle himself attributes to them this Science. As to Geometrie and Arithmetick, they always form their Body in the Figure of a Cube, every way Square, and make up the Body of a Battalion, solid, close, and environ'd round with six equal Sides: So that swimming in this square Order, as large behind, as before; who∣ever

in seeing them can count one Rank, may easily number the whole Troop, by reason that the Depth is equal to the Breadth, and the Breadth to the Length. As to Magnanimity, it will be hard to give a better Instance of that,* 1.239 than in the Example of the great Dog, sent to Alexan∣der the Great, from the Indies: They first brought him a Stag to Encounter, next a Boar, and after that a Bear, all which he slighted, and disdain'd to stir from his place; but when he saw a Lyon, he then immediately rous'd him∣self; evidently manifesting, that he declar'd that alone, worthy to enter the Lists with him. As to what concerns Repentance, and the ac∣knowledgment of Faults, 'tis reported of an E∣lephant, that having,* 1.240 in the impetuosity of his Rage, kill'd his Reeper, he fell into so extream a Sorrow, that he would never after Eat, but starv'd himself to Death. And as to Clemency, 'tis said of a Tiger, the most inhuman of all Beasts; that a Kid having been put in to him, he suffered two days Hunger rather than hurt it, and the third, broke the Grate he was shut up in, to go seek elswhere for Prey, so unwilling he was to fall upon the Kid, his Familiar, and his Guest. And as to the Laws of Familiarity and Agreement, form'd by Conversation, it ordina∣rily happens, that we bring up Cats, Dogs, and Hares, tame together: But that which Seamen experimently know, and particularly in the Ci∣lician Sea, of the Quality of the Halcyons,* 1.241 does surpass all human Thought. Of what kind of Animal has Nature ever so much honour'd the

Sitting, Enlivening, and Disclosing? The Poets indeed say, that one only I'll of Delos, that be∣fore was a floating Island, was fix'd for the Ser∣vice of Latona's lying in; but God has order'd that the whole Ocean should be stay'd, made Stable and smooth'd without Waves, without Winds, or Rain, whil'st the Halcyon broods up∣on her Young, which is just about the Solstice, the shortest day of the Year; so that by her Privilege, we have seaven Days and seven Nights, in the very heart of Winter, wherein we may sayl without Danger. Their Females never have to do with any other Male, but their own, whom they always serve, and assist, with∣out ever forsaking him all their Lives: If he happen to be weak, and broaken with Age, they take him upon their Shoulders, carry him from place to place; and serve him to Death. But the most Inquisitive into the Secrets of Nature, could never yet arrive at the Knowledg of the wonderful Fabrick, and Architecture wherewith the Halcyon builds her Nest for his little ones, nor guess at the matter.* 1.242 Plutarch, who has seen, and handled many of them, thinks it is the Bones of some Fish, which she joines and binds together, interlacing them some length∣wise, and others across, and adding Ribs, and Hoopes in such manner, that she formes at last a round Vessel fit to Launch, which being done, and the Building finished, she carries it to the Wash of the Beach, where the Sea beating gent∣ly against it, shews her where she is to mend what is not well jointed and knit, and where

better to Fortify the Seams that are leaky, and that open at the beating of the Waves; and on the contrary, what is well built, and has had the due finishing, the beating of the Waves do so close, and bind together, that it is not to be broken, or crack'd, by Blows either of Stone, or Iron, without very much ado. And that which is more to be admired, is the Proporti∣on and Figure of the Cavity within, which is compos'd, and proportioned after such a man∣ner, as not possible to receive, or admit any other thing, than the Bird that built it: For to any thing else, it is so impenetrable, close, and shut, that nothing can enter, not so much as the Water of the Sea. See here a very clear De∣scription of this Building, and borrowed from a very good Hand; and yet, methinks, it does not give us sufficient Light into the Difficulty of this Architecture. Now from what Vanity can it proceed, to Despise and disdainfully to In∣terpret Effects, that we can neither imitate, nor comprehend? To pursue a little further this E∣quality, and Correspondence betwixt us, and Beasts; the Privilege our Soul so much glorifies herself upon, of bringing all things she conceives to her own Law, of stripping all things that come to her, of their mortal and corporal Qua∣lities, of ordering and placing things she con∣ceives worthy her taking notice of, stripping and devesting them of their corruptible Qualities, and making them to lay aside Length, Breadth, Depth, Weight, Colour, Smell, Roughness, Smoothness, Hardness, Softness, and all sensi∣ble

Accidents, and mean and superfluous Vest∣ments, to accommodate them to her own im∣mortal, and spiritual Condition: As Rome and Paris, for Example, that I have in my Fancy. Paris that I imagine, I imagine, and conceive it, without Greatness, and without Place, with∣out Stone, without Plaister, and without Wood: This very same Priviledge, I say, seems to be e∣vidently in Beasts: For a Courser accustom'd to the Danger of Trumpets, the Rattle of Musket-Shot, and the Bustle of Battles, which we see start and tremble in his Sleep, and stretch'd up∣on his Litter as if he were in Fight; it is most certain, that he conceives in his Soul the beat of Drum without Noise, and an Army without Armes, and without Body.

* 1.243Quippe videbis equos fortes, cum membra jace∣bunt In somnis, sudare tamen, spiraréque saepe, Et quasi de Palma summas contendere vires.

You shall see manag'd Horses in their Sleep, Sweat, Snort, Start, Tremble, and a Clutter keep, As if with all their Force they striving were, The Victors Palm proudly away to bear.

The Hare, that a Grayhound imagines in his Sleep, after which we see him pant so whilest he sleeps, stretch out his Tail, shake his Legs, and per∣fectly represent all the Motions of a Course, is a Hare without Wool, and without Bones.

Venantúmque canes in molli saepe quiete* 1.244 Jactant crura tamen subitò, vocésque repentè Mittunt, & crebras reducunt naribus auras, Vt vestigia si teneant inventa ferarum: Expergefactique sequuntur inania saepe Cervorum simulacra, fugae quasi dedita cernant: Donec discussis redeant erroribus ad se.

And Hounds stir often in their quiet Rest, Spending their Mouths, as if upon a Quest, Snuff, and breath quick, and short, as if they went, In a full Chace upon a burning Scent: Nay being wak'd, imagin'd Stags pursue, As if they had them in their real View, Till having shook themselves more broad a∣wake, They do, at last, discover the Mistake.

The Bandogs, that we often observe to snarle in their Dreams, and afterwards bark out, and start up on a suddain, as if they perceiv'd some Stranger at hand. This Stranger that the Soul discerns, is a spiritual Man, and Imperceptible, without Dimension, without Colour, and with∣out Being.

Consueta domi catulorum blanda propago Degere,* 1.245 saepe levem ex oculis volucremque so∣porem Discutere, & corpus de terra corripere instant, Proinde quasi ignotas facies, atque ora tueantur.

The fawning Issue of House-Dogs will rise, And shaking the soft Slumber from their Eyes, Oft wildly stare at every one within, As upon Faces they had never seen.

As to the Beauty of the Body, before I proceed any further, I should know whether, or no, we are agreed about the Description: 'Tis likely we do not well know what Beauty is in Nature; and in general, since to our own human Beauty we give so many diverse Formes; of which, were there any natural Rule, and Prescription, we should know it in common, as the Heat of the Fire. But we fancy the Forms according to our own Appetite, and Liking.

* 1.246Turpis Romano Belgicus ore color.

The fair Complexion of a German Lass, Would be thought ugly in a Roman Face.

Indians paint it black and tawny, with great swell'd Lips,* 1.247 great and flat Noses, and load the Cartilage betwixt the Nostrils with great Rings of Gold, to make it hang down to the Mouth; as also the neather Lip with great Circles, en∣rich'd with Stones, that weigh them down to fall upon the Chin, it being with them a singu∣lar Grace to shew their Teeth, even below the Roots. In Peru, the greatest Ears are the most Beautiful, which they stretch out as far as they can by Art. And a Man now living says, that

he has seen in an Eastern Nation, this care of enlarging them in so great Repute, and the Ear loaden with so ponderous Jewels, that he did with great ease, put his Arme, Sleeve, and all, thorough the hole of an Ear. There are else∣where Nations, that take great care to black their Teeth, and hate to see them white;* 1.248 and others that paint them re••▪ The Women are reputed more Beautiful, not only in Biscay, but elsewhere, for having their Heads shav'd: And which is more, in certain frozen Countries, as Pliny reports. The Mexicans esteem a low Forehead a great Beauty, and tho they shave all other Parts, they nourish Hair on the Fore∣head, and increase it by Art; and have great Breasts in so great Reputation, that they affect to give their Children suck over their Shoulders. We should paint Deformity so. The Italians fashion it Gross and Massy: The Spaniards, Gaunt and Slender; and amongst us, one has made it White, another Brown: One Soft and Delicate; another Strong and Vigorous: One will have his Mistress Soft and Gentle; others Scornful and Proud. Just as the Preference in Beauty, that Plato attributes to the spherical Figure, the Epicureans give rather to the Pyra∣midal, or Square; and cannot swallow a God in the form of a Bowl. But be it how it will, Nature has no more privileg'd us in this from these common Laws, than in the rest. And if we will judg our selves aright, we shall find, that if there be some Animals less favoured in this, than we; there are others, and in great num∣ber,

that are more. A multis animalibus decore vincimur;* 1.249 even the Terrestrial, our Compatri∣ots. For as to those of the Sea, setting the Fi∣gure aside, which cannot fall into any manner of Proportion, being so much another thing: In Colour, Cleanness, Smoothness, and Disposition, we sufficiently give place to them; and no less in all Qualities to the Aereal. And this Prero∣gative that the Poets make such a mighty mat∣ter of, our erect Stature, looking towards Heaven our Original,

Prondque cum spectent animalia caetera terram, * 1.250Os homini sublime dedit, caelumque videre Jussit, & erectos ad sydera tollere vultus.

And whereas other Animals do bow, Their prone abjected Looks to Earth below, He gave Men Looks erected, to behold The Heavenly Arch studded with Stars of Gold.

is truly Poetical: For there are several little Beasts, who have their Sight absolutely turn'd towards Heaven; and I find the Countenances of Camels, and Ostriges, much higher rais'd, and more erect than ours. What Animals have not their Faces above, and not before, and do not look opposite as we do: And that do not in their natural Posture discover as much of Heaven and Earth, as Man? And what Qualities of our bo∣dily Constitution in Plato and Cicero, may not indifferently serve a thousand sorts of Beasts?

Those that most resemble us, are the most Des∣picable, and deform'd of all the Heard: For those in outward appearance and forme of Vi∣sage, are Baboones and Monkies:

Simia quàm similis, turpissima bestia nobis?

How like to Man in Visage, and in Shape,* 1.251 Is, of all Beasts the most deform'd, the Ape?

For the Internal, and Vital Parts, the Hog. In earnest, when I imagine Man stark naked, (even in that Sex, that seems to have the greatest share of Beauty) his Defects, natural Subjection, and Imperfections, I find that we have more reason than any other Animal, to cover our selves; are to be excus'd for borrowing of those, that Na∣ture has in this been kinder, than to us, to trick our selves with their Beauties, and hide our selves under their Spoils, their Wool, Feathers, Hair, and Silk. Let us observe as to the rest, that Man is the sole Animal, whose Nudities of∣fend his own Companions, and the only one, who in his natural Actions withdraws, and hides himself from his own Kind. And really, 'tis al∣so an Effect worth Consideration, that they, who are Masters in the Trade, prescribe as a Reme∣dy for amorous Passions, the full, and free View of the Body a Man desires, so that to cool the Ardour, there needs no more, but at liberty to see, and contemplate the Parts he loves.

* 1.252Ille quòd obscaenas in aperto corpore partes Viderat, in cursu qui fuit, haesit amor.

The Loves that's tilting, when those Parts appear Open to View, flags in the hot Carreer.

And altho this Receipt may peradventure pro∣ceed from a nice and cold Humor: It is notwith∣standing, a very great sign of our want of Strength and Mettle, that Use and Acquain∣tance should make us disgust one another. It is not Modesty so much as Cunning and Prudence, that makes our Ladies so Circumspect, to re∣fuse us Admittance into their Cabinets, before they are painted and trickt up for the publick View.

Nec Veneres nostras hoc fallit, quò magis ipsae Omnia summopere hos vitae post scenta celant, Quos retinere volunt adstrictoque esse in amore.

Of this, our Ladies are full well aware, Which makes them with such Privacy and Care, Behind the Scene all those Defects remove, Should check the Flame of those, they most do love.

Whereas in several Animals there is nothing that we do not love, and that does not please our Sences: So that from their very Excrements,

we do not only extract wherewith to heighten our Sawces; but also our richest Ornaments and Perfumes. This Discourse reflects upon none, but the ordinary sort of Women, and is not so Sacrilegious, as to comprehend those Divine, Supernatural and extraordinary Beauties, which we see shine amongst us, like Stars under a Cor∣poreal and Terrestial Vayle. As to the rest, the very Share that we allow to Beasts, of the boun∣ty of Nature, by our own Confession, is very much to their Advantage. We attribute to our selves imaginary and fantastick Goods, future and absent Goods, for which human Capacity cannot of her self be Responsible: Or Goods, that we falsly attribute to our selves by the Li∣cence of Opinion, as Reason, Knowledg, and Ho∣nor: And leave to them for their Divident, Es∣sential, Maniable, and Palpable Goods, as Peace, Repose, Security, Innocence, and Health: Health, I say, the fairest and richest Present that Nature can make us.* 1.253 Insomuch that the Philo∣sopher, even the Stoick, is so bold as to say, that Heraclytus and Pherecides, could they have truck'd their Wisdom for Health, and have de∣liver'd themselves, the one of his Dropsie, and the other of the lowsy Disease that tormented him by the bargain, they had done well. By which they set a greater Value upon Wisdom, comparing and putting it in the Ballance with Health, than they do in this other Proposition, which is also theirs. They say, that if Circe had presented Vlysses with two Potions,* 1.254 the one to make a Fool become a Wise-Man, and the o∣ther

to make a Wise-Man become a Fool, that Vlysses ought rather to have chosen the last, than to consent that Circe had chang'd his human Fi∣gure into that of a Beast: And say that Wisdom it self would have spoke to him after this man∣ner. Forsake me, let me alone, rather than lodg me under the Body and Figure of an Ass. How? The Philosophers then will abandon this great and divine Wisdom, for this corporal and terrestrial Covering? It is than no more by Reason, by Discourse, and by the Soul, that we excel Beasts: 'Tis by our Beauty, our fair Complexion, and our fine symmetry of Parts, for which we must quit our Intelligence, our Prudence, and all the rest. Well, I accept this natural and free Confession: Certainly they knew, that those Parts upon which we so much value our selves, are no other than meer Fancy. If Beasts then had all the Virtue, Knowledg, Wisdom and Stoical Perfection; they would still be Beasts, and would not be comparable to Man, Miserable, Wicked, and a Madman. For, in fine, what∣ever is not as we are, is nothing considerable: And God, to procure himself an Esteem amongst us, must put himself into that Shape, as we shall shew anon. By which it does appear, that it is not upon any true ground of Reason, but by a foolish Pride and vain Opinion, that we prefer our selves before other Animals, and separate our selves from their Society and Condition. But, to return, to what I was upon before, we have for our part, Inconstancy, Irresolution, In∣cercitude, Sorrow, Superstition, Solicitude of

things to come, even after we shall be no more, Ambition, Avarice, Jealousy, Envy, Irregular, Frantick and Untam'd Appetites, War, Lying, Disloyalty, Detraction and Curiosity. Doubt∣less, we have strangely overpay'd this Fine, up∣on which we so much glorify our selves, and this Capacity of Judging and Knowing, if we have bought it at the Price of this infinite num∣ber of Passions, to which we are eternally sub∣ject. Unless we shall yet think fit, as Socrates does, to add to the Counterpoise, that notable Prerogative above Beasts, that whereas Nature has prescrib'd them certain Seasons and Limits for the Delights of Venus, she has given us the Reins at all Hours, and all Seasons. Vt vinum aegrotis quia prodest rarò, nocet saepissime, melius est non adhibere omnino, quàm,* 1.255 spe dubiae salutis in apertam perniciem incurrere: Sic haud scio, an melius fuerit humano generi motum istum celerem, cogitationis acumen, solertiam, quam rationem voca∣mus, qoniam pestifera sint multis, admodum paucis salutaria, non dari omnimo, quàm tam munificè & tam largè dari. As it falls out, that Wine often hurts the Sick, and very rarely does them good, it is better not to give them any at all, than to run in∣to an apparent Danger, out of hope of an incertain Benefit: So I know not, whether it had not been better for Mankind, that this quick Motion, this penetrancy of Imagination, this Subtlety, that we call Reason, had not been given to Man at all; considering how pestiferous it is to many, and healthful but to few, than to have been con∣ferr'd in so abundant manner, and with so li∣beral

a Hand. Of what Advantage can we con∣ceive the Knowledg of so many things was to Varro, and Aristotle? Did it exempt them from human Inconveniences? Were they by it freed from the Accidents, that ly heavy upon the Shoulders of a Porter? Did they extract from their Logick any Consolation for the Gout? Or, for knowing that the Humour is lodged in the Joints, did they feel it the less? Have they com∣pounded with Death, by knowing that some Nations rejoice at his Approach: Or with Cuckoldry, by knowing, that in some part of the World, Wives are in Common? On the contrary; having been reputed the greatest Men for Knowledg, the one amongst the Ro∣mans, and the other amongst the Greeks, and in a time when Learning did most flourish, we have not heard nevertheless, that they had a∣ny particular Excellence in their Lives: Nay, the Greek had enough to do, to clear himself from some notable Blemishes in his. Have we observ'd that Pleasure and Health have had a better re∣lish with him that understands Astrologie and Grammar, than with others?

* 1.256Illiterati num minus nervi rigent?

Th' illiterate Plough-Man is as Fit, For Venus Service as the Wit.

And Shame and Poverty less troublesom to the first, than the last?

Scilicet & morbis, & debilitate carebis,* 1.257 Et luctum & curam effugies, & tempora vitae Longa tibi post haec fato meliore dabuntur.

—Thou shall be free Both from Disease, and from Infirmity, From Care and Sorrow, and thy Life shall be Prolong'd under a better Destiny.

I have known in my time a hundred Artizans, and a hundred Labourers wiser and more happy, than the Rectors of the Vniversity, and whom I had much rather have resembled. Learning methinks, has its Place amongst the necessary things of Life, as Glory, Nobility, Dignity, or at the most, as Riches, and such other Quali∣ties, which indeed are useful to it; but remote∣ly, and more by Opinion, than by Nature. We stand very little more in need of Offices, Rules, and Laws of living in our Society, than Cranes and Emmets do in theirs. And yet we see that they carry themselves very regularly, and without Erudition. If Man was Wise, he would take the true value of every thing according as it was more utile, and proper to his Life. Who∣ever will number us by our Actions and Deport∣ments, will find many more excellent Men a∣mongst the Ignorant than the Learned: I say, in all sort of Vertue. The old Rome seems to me, to have been of much greater Value, both for Peace and War, than that learned Rome that ruin'd it self. And tho all the rest should be e∣qual;

yet the Prowess, Integrity, and Inno∣cency would remain to the Ancients, for they cohabit singularly well with Simplicity. But I will leave this Discourse,* 1.258 that would lead me farther than I am willing to follow; and shall only say this farther, 'tis only Humility and Submission, that can make a compleat good Man. We are not to leave the Knowldg of his Duty to every Man's own Judgment: We are to prescribe it to him, and not suffer him to choose it at his own Discretion: Otherwise, according to the Imbecillity and infinite Varie∣ty of our Reasons and Opinions, we should at last forge ourselves Duties, that would (as E∣picurus says) enjoine us to eat one another. The first Law that ever God gave to Man, was a Law of pure Obedience: It was a Command∣ment naked and simple, wherein Man had no∣thing to enquire after, or to dispute, forasmuch as to obey, is the proper Office of a Rational Soul, ackowledging a heavenly Superior and Be∣nefactor. From Obedience and Submission, spring all other Vertues, as all Sin does from Self-Opinion. And on the contrary, the first Temptation, that by the Devil was offered to human Nature, its first Poison insinuated it self by the Promises was made us of Knowledg and Wisdom: Eritis sicut Dii, scientes bonum & ma∣lum. Ye shall be as Gods, knowing Good and E∣vil.* 1.259 And the Syrens in Homer, to allure Vlysses, and draw him within the danger of their Snares, offered to give him Knowledg. The Plague of Man, is the Opinion of Wisdom. And for this

reason it is, that Ignorance is so recommended to us by our Religion, as proper to Faith and Obedience. Cavete, ne quis vos decipiat per Phi∣losophiam, & inanes seductiones,* 1.260 secundum ele∣menta mundi. Take heed, lest any Man deceive you by Philosophy and vain Deceit, after the Tra∣dition of Men, and the Rudiments of the World. There is in this a general Consent amonst all sorts of Philosophers, that the soveraign Good consists in the Tranquillity of the Soul and Bo∣dy: But where shall we find it?

Ad summum sapiens uno minor est Jove,* 1.261 dives Liber, honoratus, pulcher, rex denique regum: Praecipuè sanus, nisi cùm pituita molesta est:

He that is Wise, inferior is to none, If he be Wise indeed, but Jove alone. Rich, Free, and Graceful, these do Reverence bring, And lastly of the Greates, Kings, a King: And cheifely sound, unless sometimes there flow A trickling Rheume upon his Lungs, or so.

It seems, in truth, that Nature, for the Conso∣lation of our miserable and wretched Estate, has only given us Presumption for our Inheritance. 'Tis as Epictetus says, That Man has nothing pro∣perly his own, but the use of his Opinions: We have nothing but Wind and Smoak for our Portion. The Gods have Health in Essence, says Philosophy, and Sickness in Intelligence. Man,

on the contrary, posses his Goods by Fancy, his Ills in Essence. We have had Reason to magni∣fy the Power of our Imagination; for all our Goods are only in Dream. Hear this poor ca∣lamicous Animal Huff. There is nothing, says Cicero, so charming as the Knowledg of Letters; of Letters I say, by means whereof the Infinity of things, the immense grandeur of Nature, the Heavens, even in this World, the Earth, and the Seas are discovered to us: 'Tis they that have taught us Religion, Moderation, and the gran∣deur of Courage, and that have rescu'd our Soules from Obscurity, to make her see all things, high, low, first and last, and indifferent: 'tis they, that furnish us wherewith to live happily and well, and conduct us to pass over our Lives with∣out Displeasure, and without Offence. Does not this Man seem to speak of the Condition of the Ever-living and Almighty God? And as to the Effect, a thousand little Country-Wo∣men have lived Lives more equal, more sweet and constant than his.

—Deus ille fuit Deus, inclute Memmi, * 1.262Qui princeps vitae rationem invenit eam, quae Nunc appellatur sapientia, quíque per artem Fluctibus è tantis vitam tantisque tenebris, In tam tranquilla, & tam clara luce locavit.

That God, great Memmus, was a God no doubt, Who, Prince of Life, first found that Reason out,

Now Wisdom call'd, and by his Art, who did That Life in Tempests tost, and Darkness hid, Place in so great a Calm, and clear a Light.

Here are brave ranting Words: But a very light Accident put this Mans Understanding in a worse Condition,* 1.263 than that of the meanest Shepheard: Notwithstanding this Instructing God, this Divine Wisdom. Of the same stamp of Impudence is the Promise of Democritus his Book: I am going to speak of all things. And that foolish Title that Aristotle prefixes to one of his, of the Immortal Gods: And the Judg∣ment of Chrysippus, That Dion was as Vertuous, as God. And my beloved Seneca does indeed acknowledg, that God has given him Life: But that to live well, is his own. According to this o∣ther, In virtute verè gloriamur: quod non contin∣geret, si id donum à Deo non à nobis haberemus.* 1.264 We truly glory in our Virtue: Which would not be, if it was given us of God, and not by our selves. This is also Seneca's saying, That the Wise Man has Fortitude equal with God; but in human Frailty, wherein he surmounts him. There is no∣thing so ordinary as to meet with Sallies of the like Temerity: There is none of us, who takes so much Offence to see himself equal to God, as he does, to see himself undervalued by being ranck∣ed with other Creatures; so much more are we jealous of our own Interest, than that of our

Creator. But we must trample under foot this foolish Vanity, and briskly and boldly shake the ridiculous Foundation, upon which these false Opinions are founded. So long as Man shall believe he has any Means and Power of himself, he will never acknowledg what he owes to his Maker, his Eggs shall always be Chickens, as the saying is: We must therefore strip him to his Shirt. Let us see some notable Example of the Effects of his Philosophy. Possidonius being tor∣mented with a Disease so painful, as made him Writh his Armes, and Gnash his Teeth; thought he sufficiently baffell'd the Dolor, by crying out against it: Thou dost exercise thy Malice to much Purpose, I will not Confess that thou art an Evil. He is as sensible of the Pain as my Foot∣man, but he mightily values himself, upon bride∣ling his Tongue at least, and restraining it with∣in the Laws of his Sect. Re succumbere non opor∣tebat verbis gloriantem. It did not become him that spoke so big,* 1.265 to confess his Frailty when he came to the Test. Archesilaus, being ill of the Gout, and Carneades coming to see him, was returning troubled at his Condition, whom ha∣ving call'd back, and shewing him his Feet and his Breast: There is nothing come from thence hi∣ther, said he. This has something a better Grace, for he feels himself in Pain, and would be disengaged from it: But his Heart, notwith∣standing, is not Conquered, nor Subdued by it. The other stands more obstinately to his Work; but I fear, rather verbally than really. And Dionysius Heracleotes, afflicted with a vehement

smarting in his Eyes, was reduc'd, and made to quit these stoical Resolutions. But tho Know∣ledg should, in effect, do as they say, and could blunt the Point, and dull the Edge of the Mis∣fortunes that attend us, what does she yet more, than what Ignorance does more purely, and e∣vidently do? The Philosopher Pyrrho, being at Sea in very great Danger, by reason of a migh∣ty Storm, presented nothing to those who were with him, to imitate in this Extremity, but the Security of a Hog they had aboard, that was Fearless and unconcerned at the Tempest. Phi∣losophie, when she has said all she can, refers us at last, to the Example of a Wrestler, or a Mu∣letteer, in which sort of People we commonly observe much less apprehension of Death, sense of Pain, and other Infirmities, and more Con∣stancy, than ever Knowledg furnished any one withal, that was not born with those Infirmi∣ties, and of himself prepared by a natural Ha∣bit. What is the Cause, that we make Incisi∣ons, and cut the tender Limbs of an Infant, and those of a Horse, more easily than ours, but Ig∣norance only? How many has meer force of I∣magination made sick?* 1.266 We often see Men cause themselves to be let Blood, Purg'd and Physick'd, to be cured of Diseases they only feel in Opini∣on. When real Infirmities fail us, Knowledg lends us hers: That Colour, that Complexion, portend some Defluxion: This hot Season threat∣ens us with a Feaver: This breach in the life-Line of your left Hand, gives you notice of some near and dangerous Indisposition, and at

last roundly attacks Health it self; saying, this spriteliness and vigor of Youth, cannot conti∣nue in this Posture, there must be Blood taken, and the Heat abated, lest it turn to your Pre∣judice. Compare the Life of a Man subjected to such Imaginations, to that of a Labourer that suffers himself to be led by his natural Appetite, measuring things only by the present Sense, without Knowledg, and without Prognostick, that feels no Pain nor Sickness, but when he is really tormented, or sick: Whereas the other has the Stone in his Soul, before he has it either in his Reins or Bladder: As if it were not time enough to suffer the Evil when it shall come, he must anticipate it by Fancy, and run to meet it. What I say of Physick may generally serve in Example for all other Sciences: From thence is derived that antient Opinion of Philosophers, that plac'd the soveraine Good, in the discove∣ry of the weakness of our Judgment. My Ig∣norance affords me as much occasion of Hope, as of Fear: And having no other Rule for my Health, than that of the Examples of others, and of Events I see elsewhere upon the like Oc∣casion; I find of all sorts, and rely upon the Comparisons are most favourable to me. I re∣ceive Health with open Arms, free, full, and en∣tire, and by so much the more whet my Appe∣tite to enjoy it, by how much it is at present less ordinary, and more rare: So far I am from troubling its Repose and Sweetness, with the bit∣terness of a new and constrain'd manner of Li∣ving. Beasts sufficiently shew us, how much the

agitation of the Soul brings Infirmities and Di∣seases upon us. That which is told us of those of Brazile, that they never died but of old Age, is attributed to the Serenity and tranquillity of the Air they live in; but I rather attribute it to the serenity and tranquillity of their Souls, free from all Passion, Thought or Employments, Tenter'd or Unpleasing, as People that pass o∣ver their Lives in an admirable Simplicity and Ignorance, without Letters, without Law, with∣out King, or any manner of Religion. And whence comes that, which we find by Experi∣ence, that the greatest and most rough-hewn Clowns are the most able, and the most to be desired in amorous Performances? And that the Love of a Muletter, oft renders it self more ac∣ceptable than that of a well-bred Man? If it be not, that the Agitation of the Soul, in the later, disturbs his natural Ability, dissolves and tires it, as it also troubles and tires it self. What puts the Soul besides it self, and more usually throws it into Madness, but her own Promptness, Vi∣gor and Agility, and finally, her own proper Force? Of what is the most subtile Folly made, but of the most subtile Wisdom? As great Friendships spring from great Enmities, and vigorous Healths from mortal Diseases: So from the rare and quick Agitations of our Souls, proceed the most wonderful and most deprav'd Frenzies; 'tis but a half turn of the Toe from the one to the other. In the Actions of mad Men, we see how infinitely that Mad∣ness resembles the most vigorous Operations

of the Soul. Who does not know how indi∣scernable the difference is betwixt Folly, and the Elevations of a spritely Soul, and the Ef∣fects of a supream and extraordinary Vertue? Plato says, that melancholick persons are the most capable of Discipline, and the most excellent, nor indeed is there in any so great a propension to madness. Infinite Wits are ruin'd by their own proper force and quickness.* 1.267 What a condition, through his own agitation, and promptness of Fancy is one of the most ju∣dicious, ingenious, and the best form'd Souls to the antient and true Poesie of any other Ita∣lian Poet that has been these very many years, lately fall'n into? Has he not great obligation to this Vivacity that has destroyed him? To this Light that has blinded him? To this ex∣act and subtle apprehension of Reason, that has put him besides his Reason? To his curious and laborious Scrutiny after Sciences, that has re∣duced him to a Brute? And to this rare aptitude to the Exercises of the Soul, that has rendred him without Exercise, and without Soul? I was more angry, if possible, than compassionate, to see him at Ferrara in so pitiful a condition survive himself; forgetting both himself and his Works; which without his knowledge, though before his Face, have been publish'd, deform'd and incorrect. Would you have a Man sound, would you have him regular, and in a steady and secure posture? Muffle him up in the shades of Stupidity and Sloth. We must be made Beasts to be made wise, and Hood∣winked

before we are fit to be led. And if one shall tell me that the advantage of having a cold and stupid Sence of Pains and other Evils, brings this disadvantage along with it, to ren∣der us consequently less sensible also in the frui∣tion of Goods and Pleasure: This is true: But the misery of our condition is such, that we have not so much to injoy, as to avoid, and that the extreamest pleasure does not affect us to the degree that a light Grief does: Segnius homines bona, quàm mala sentiunr. We are not so sensible of the most perfect Health, as we are of the least Sickness.

—pungit.* 1.268 In cute vix summa violatum plagula corpus, Quando valere nihil quemquam movet. Hoc juvat unum Quod me non torquet latus, aut pes: Caetera quisquam Vix queat, aut sanum sese, aut sentire valentem.

The Body with a little stripe is griev'd, When the most perfect Health is not perceiv'd. This only pleases me, that Spleen nor Gout Either offend my Side, or wring my Foot, Excepting these, scarce any one can tell, Or does observe, when he's in Health and Well.

Our Well-being is nothing but the privation of Evil. Which is the reason why that Sect of Philosophers, who sets the greatest value upon

Pleasure, has yet fixt it chiefly in Insensibility of Pain. To be freed from Ill, is the greatest Good that Man can hope for or desire: Accord∣ing to Eunius.

Nimium boni est, cui nihil est mali.

For that very tickling and sting, which are in certain Pleasures, and that seem to raise us above simple Health and Insensibility; that active, mo∣ving, and, I know not how, itching and bi∣ting Pleasure; even that very Pleasure it self levels at nothing but Insensibility, as its mark. The Lust that carries us headlong to Womens Embraces, is directed for no other end, but only to cure the Torment of our ardent De∣sires, and only requires to be glutted and laid at rest, and deliver'd from that Feaver. And so of the rest. I say then, that if Simplicity conducts us to an Estate free from Evil, she leads us to a very happy one, according to our condition. And yet we are not to imagine it so stupid an Insensibility, as to be totally without Sence: For Crantor had very good rea∣son to controvert the Insensibility of Epicurus; if founded so deep, that the very first Attack and Birth of Evils were not to be perceiv'd. I do not approve such an Insensibility, as is neither possible, nor to be desir'd. I am very well content not to be sick: But if I am, I would, know that I am so; and if a Caustick be apply'd, or Incisions made in any part, I would feel them. In truth, whoever would

take away the knowledge and Sence of Evil, would at the same time eradicate the Sence of Pleasure, and finally annihilate Man himself. Istud nihil dolere, non sine magna mercede contin∣git immanitatis in animo, stuporis in corde.* 1.269 An Insensibility, that is, not to be purchased, but at the Price of the Humanity of the Soul, and of Stupidity in the Body. Evil appertains to Man in turn. Neither is Grief and Pains al∣ways to be avoided, nor Pleasure always pur∣su'd. 'Tis a great advantage to the Honour of Ignorance, that Knowledge it self throws us into its Arms; when she finds her self puzzel••d to fortifie us against the weight of Evil, she is constrain'd to come to this Composition, to give us the Reins, and permit us to fly into the Lap of the other, and to shelter our selves un∣der her Protection from the Strokes and Inju∣ries of Fortune. For what else is her meaning, when she instructs us to divert our Thoughts from the Ills that press upon us, and entertain them with the Meditation of Pleasures past and gone, to comfort our selves in present Affli∣ctions, with the remembrance of fled Delights, and to call to our succour, a vanish'd satisfaction, to oppose it to that which lies heavy upon us? Levationes aegritudinum in avocatione à cogit and a molestia,* 1.270 & revocatione ad contemplandas volup∣tas ponit; If it be not that where her power fails, she will supply it with policy, and make use of Slight, and a cunning Trip, where the force of Limbs will not serve her turn? For not only to a Philosopher, but to any Man in his right

Wits, when he has upon him the Thirst of a burning Feaver, what satisfaction can it be to remember the Pleasure of drinking Greek Wine? It would rather be a greater torment to him,

Che ricordar si il ben doppia la nosa.

* 1.271Who so remembers, all he Gains, Is, that he doubles his own Pains.

Of the same stamp is this other Counsel that Philosophy gives, only to remember good For∣tunes past, and to forget the Misadventures we have undergone; as if we had the Science of Oblivion in our own Power and Counsel, wherein we are yet more to seek.

* 1.272Suavis est laborum praeteritorum memoria.

The Memory of past Evil is sweet. How? Does Philosophy that should arm me to contend with Fortune, and steel my Courage to trample all Human Adversities under foot, is she arriv'd to this degree of Cowardize, to make me hide my head at this rate, and save my self by these pitiful and ridiculous Shifts? For the Memory represents to us, not what we choose, but what she pleases; nay, there is nothing that so much imprints any thing in our Memory, as a desire to forget it: And 'tis a good way to retinue and keep any thing safe in the Soul to solicite her to lose it.* 1.273 And this is false. Est situm in nobis ut & adversa quasi perpetua oblivione ob∣ruamus,

& secunda jucundè & suaviter memine∣rimus. And it is in our power to bury, as it were, in a perpetual Oblivion all adverse Acci∣dents, and to retein a pleasant and delightful Memory of our Successes. And this is true, Me∣mini etiam quae nolo: Oblivisci non possum quae volo. I do also remember what I would not; but I cannot forget what I would. And whose Counsel is this? His, qui se unus sapientem profiteri fit ausus. Who only durst profess himself a Wise Man.

Qui genus humanum ingenio superavit,* 1.274 & omnes Praestrinxit Stellas, exortus uti aetherius Sol.

Who from Mankind the prize of Knowledge won, And put the Stars out like a rising Sun.

To empty and disfurnish the Memory, is not this the true way to Ignorance?

Iners malorum remedium ignorantia est.* 1.275

Ignorance is but a dull remedy for Evils.

We find several other like Precepts, whereby we are permitted to borrow frivolous apparences from the Vulgar, where we find the greatest reason cannot do the Feat: Provided they ad∣minister Satisfaction and Comfort. Where they cannot cure the Wound, they are content to palliate and benumn it. I believe they will not deny this, that if they could add Order and

Constancy in an estate of Life that could main∣tain it self in Ease and Pleasure by some Debility of Judgment they would accept it:

* 1.276—potare, & spargere flores Incipiam, patiàrque vel inconsultus haberi.

I'll drink and revel like a jovial Lad, Though for my pains, the World repute me mad.

There would be a great many Philosophers of Lycas his Mind: This Man being otherwise of very gentle Manners, living quietly and con∣tentedly in his Family, and not failing in any Office of his Duty, either towards his own or Strangers, and very carefully preserving himself from hurtful things, was nevertheless, by some Distemper in his Brains, possessed with a Con∣ceit, that he was perpetually in the Theatre a Spectator of the finest sights, and the best Co∣medies in the World; and being cur'd by the Physitians of his Frenzy, had much adoe to for∣bear endeavouring by Suit to compel them to re∣store him again to his pleasing Imaginations.

* 1.277—pol me occidistis amici Non servastis, ait, cui sic extorta voluptas, Et demptus per vim mentis gratissimus error.

By Heaven you have kill'd mee Friends out∣right, And not preserv'd me, since my dear delight

And pleasing error, by my better sence Unhappily return'd, is banish'd hence.

With a madness like that of Thrasylaus, the Son of Pythodorus, who made himself believe that all the Ships that weigh'd Anchor from the Port of Pyreum, and that came into the Haven, only made their Voyages for his Profit: Con∣gratulating them for their happy Navigation, and receiving them with the greatest Joy, whom his Brother Crito having caused to be restored to his better Understanding, he infinitely re∣gretted that sort of condition, wherein he had lived with so much delight, and free from all Anxiety of Mind. 'Tis according to the Old Greek Verse, that there is a great deal of con∣venience in not being over-wise.

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

And Ecclesiastes, In much Wisdom,* 1.278 there is much Sorrow: And who gets Wisdom, gets Labour and Trouble. Even that to which Philosophy consents in general, that last Remedy which she applys to all sorts of Necessities, to put an end to the Life, we are not able to endure it. Placet? Pare: Non placet? Quacunque vis exi?* 1.279 Pungit dolor? Fodiat sanè: Si nudus es, da jugu∣lum: Sin tectus armis vulcanis, id est fortitudine, resiste. Does it please? Obey it. Not please? Go out how thou wilt. Does Grief prick thee? Nay, if it stab thee too: If thou art naked, present thy Throat: If covered with the Arms of Vulcan,

that is Fortitude, resist it. And this word so us'd in the Greek Festivals, aut bibat, aut abeat, That sounds better upon the Tongue of a Gas∣con, who naturally change the V. into B. than upon that of Cicero;

* 1.280Vivere si rectè nescis, decede peritis. Lusisti satis, edisti satis, atque bibisti: Tempus abire tibi est, ne potum largius aequo Rideat, & pulset lasciva decentius aetas.

If to live well, and right thou doest not know, Give place, and leave thy Room to those that doe, Th'ast eaten, drank, and plaid to thy content, 'Tis time to make thy parting Complement, Least, being over-dos't, the younger sort Laugh at thee first, and than exclude thee for't.

What is it other than a Confession of his Impo∣tency, and a sending back not only to Ignorance, to be there in safety, but even to Stupidity, In∣sensibility, and Nonentity?

* 1.281Democritum postquàm matura vetustas Admonuit memorem, motus languescere mentis: Sponte sua letho caput obvius obtulit ipse.

Soon as through Age Democritus did find A manifest Decadence in his Mind, He thought he now surviv'd to his own wrong. And went to meet his Death that stay'd too long.

'Tis what Antisthenes said, That a Man must ei∣ther make provision of Sense to understand; Or of a Halter to hang himself: And what Crysippus alledged upon this Saying of the Poet Tyrteus,

De la vertu, ou de mort approcher.* 1.282

Or to arrive at Vertue, or at Death.

And Crates said,* 1.283 That Love would be cur'd by Hunger, if not by time: And whoever disliked these two Remedies, by a With. That Sextius of whom both Seneca and Plutarch speak with so high an Encomium, having applyed himself (all other things set aside) to the Study of Phi∣losophy, resolv'd to throw himself into the Sea, seeing the Progress of his Studies too tedious and slow. He ran to find Death, since he could not overtake Knowledge. These are the words of the Law upon this Subject. If peradventure some great inconvenience happen, for which there is no remedy, the Haven is near, and a Man may save himself by swimming out of his Body, as out of a leaky Skiff; for 'tis the Fear of Dying, and not the Love of Life, that ties the Fool to his Body. As Life renders it self by Simplicity more pleasant, so more innocent and better, as I was saying before. The simple and ignorant, says St. Paul, raise themselves up to Heaven, and take possession of it, and we with all our Knowledge, plunge our selves into the infernal Abyss. I am neither swaid by Valentinian, a pro∣fest

Enemy to all Knowledge and Literature; nor by Licinius, both Roman Emperours, who called them the Poyson and Pest of all Politick Governments: Nor by Mahomet, who (as 'tis said) interdicted all manner of Learning to his Followers: But the Example of the Great Ly∣curgus,* 1.284 and his Authority, with the Reverence of the Divine Lacedemonian Policy, so great, so admirable, and so long flourishing in Vertue and Happiness without any Institution or Pra∣ctice of Letters, ought certainly to be of very great weight. Such as return from the new World, discover'd by the Spaniards in our Fa∣thers days, can testifie to us, how much more honestly and regularly those Nations live with∣out Magistrate,* 1.285 and without Law, than ours do, where there are more Officers and Laws, than there are of other sorts of Men, and Business.

* 1.286Dicittatorie & di libelli, D'esamine & di carte, di procure Hanno le mani & il seno, & gran fastalli Di chiose, di consigli & di letture, Percui le faculta de poverelli Non seno mai ne le citta sicure, Hanno dietro & dinanzi & d'ambi i lati, Notai procuratori & advocati.

* 1.287Her Lap was full of Writs and of Citations, Of process of Actions and Arrest, Of Bills, of Answers, and of Replications, In Courts of Delegates and of Requests,

To grieve the simple sort with great Vexa∣tions: She had resorting to her as her Guests, Attending on her Circuits and her Journeys. Scriv'ners and Clerks, and Lawyers and At∣torneys.

It was what a Roman Senator said of the later Ages, that their Predecessors Breath stunk of Garlick, but their Stomachs were perfum'd with a good Conscience: And that on the contrary, those of his time were all sweet Odour without, but stunk within of all sorts of Vices, that is to say, as I interpret it, that they abounded with Learning and Eloquence, but were very defective in moral Honesty. Incivility, Ignorance, Sim∣plicity and Roughness, are the Natural Com∣panions of Innocency: Curiosity, Subtlety and Knowledge bring Malice in their Train: Hu∣mility, Fear, Obedience and Affability (which are the principal things that support and main∣tain Human Society) require an empty and docile Soul, and little presuming upon it self. Christians have a particular Knowledge, how Natural and Original an evil Curiosity is in Man. The Thirst of Knowledge, and the Desire to become more Wise, was the first ruin of Hu∣man-kind, and the way by which he precipi∣tated himself into Eternal Damnation. Pride was his ruin and corruption: 'is Pride that diverts from the Common Path, and makes him embrace Novelties, and rather chuse to be Head of a Troop, lost and wandring in the

Path of Error, to be Regent and a Teacher of Lyes, than to be a Disciple in the School of Truth, suffering himself to be led and guided by the hand of another, in the right and beaten Road. 'Tis, peradventure, the meaning of this old Greek saying, 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.* 1.288 That Superstition follows Pride, and obeys it as if it were a Father. O Presumption, how much doest thou hinder us! After that, Socrates was told, That the God of Wisdom had attri∣buted to him the Title of a Sage, he was asto∣nished at it, and searching and examining him∣self throughout, could find no Foundation for this Divine Sentence. He knew others as just, temperate, valiant and learned as himself: And more eloquent, more handsom, and more pro∣fitable to their Country, than he. At last he concluded, that he was not distinguished from others, nor wise, but only because he did not think himself so. And that his God consider'd the Opinion of Knowledge and Wisdom as a singular Brutality in Man; and that his best Doctrine was the Doctrine of Ignorance, and Simplicity the best Wisdom. The Sacred Word declares those Miserable, who have an Opinion of themselves: Dust and Ashes, says it to such, What hast thou wherein to Glorifie thy self? And in another place, God has made Man like unto a Shadow, of whom, who can judge, when by the removing of the Light, it shall be vanished? Man is a thing of nothing, whose Force is so far from being able to comprehend the Divine Height: That of the Works of our Creator,

those best bear his Mark, and are with better Title, his, which we the least understand. To meet with an incredible thing, is an Occasion to Christians to believe; and it is so much the more according to reason, by how much it is against Human Reason. If it were according to rea∣son, it would be no more a singular thing.

Melius scitur Deus nesciendo,

says St. Austin,* 1.289 God is better known by not knowing. And Tacitus,* 1.290

Sanctius est ac reverentius de actis Deorum cre∣dere quàm scire.

It is more Holy and Reverend to believe the Works of God, than to know them. And Plato thinks there is something of Impiety in it, to require too curiously into God, the World, and first Causes of things.

Atque illum quidem parentem hujus Viversitatis invenire, dif∣ficile: Et, quum jam inveneris, indicare in vul∣gus, nefas,

says Cicero.* 1.291 To find out the Parent of the World, is very hard. And when found out to reveal him to the Vulgar, is Sin. We pro∣nounce indeed Power, Truth and Justice, which are words that signifie some great thing; but that thing we neither see, nor conceive at all. We say that God fears, that God is angry, and that God loves:

Immortalia mortali sermone notantes.* 1.292

Giving to things immortal mortal Names.

Which are all Agitations and Emotions, that cannot be in God according to our Form, nor we imagine it according to his; it only belongs

to God to know himself, and to interpret his own Works; and he does it in our Language, improperly, to stoop and descend to who gro∣vel upon the Earth. How can Prudence, which is the Choice betwixt Good and Evil, be pro∣perly attributed to him, whom no Evil can touch? How the Reason and Intelligence which we make use of, by obscure to arrive at ap∣parent things: Seeing that nothing is obscure to him? And Justice which distributes to every one what appertains to him, a thing begot by the Society and Community of Men, how is that in God? How Temperance? Which is the Moderation of Corporal Pleasures, that have no place in the Divinity? Fortitude to support Pain, Labour, and Dangers as little appertains to him as the rest, these three things having no access to him. For which reason, Aristotle holds him equally exempt from Vertue and Vice. Neque gratia, neque ira teneri potest, quod quae talia es∣sent,* 1.293 imbecilla essent omnia. He can neither be affected with Favour nor Indignation, because both those are the effects of Frailty. The Participa∣tion we have in the knowledge of Truth, such as it is, is not acquir'd by our own ••orce. God has sufficiently given us to understand that, by the Witness he has chosen out of the common people, simple and ignorant Men, that he has been pleased to employ, to instruct us in his admirable Secrets: Our Faith is not of our own acquiring, 'tis purely the Gift of an others Boun∣ty. 'Tis not by Meditation, or by Vertue of our own Understanding, that we have acquir'd

our Religion, but by Foreign Authority and Command, wherein the Imbecillity of our Judg∣ment does more assist us than the Force, and our Blindness more than our Clearness of Sight. 'Tis more by the Meditation of our Ignorance than our Knowledge, that we know any thing of the Divine Wisdom. 'Tis no wonder, if our Natural and Earthly parts cannot conceive that Supernatural and heavenly Knowledge: Let us bring nothing of our own, but Obedience and Subjection. For, as it is written,* 1.294 I will destroy the Wisdom of the Wise, and will bring to nothing the Vnderstanding of the Prudent. Where is the Wise? Where is this Scribe? Where is the Dispu∣ter of this World? Hath not God made Foolish the Wisdom of this World. For after that in the Wis∣dom of God, the World knew not God, it pleased God by the Foolishness of preaching to save them that believe. Finally, should I examine whe∣ther it be in the power of Man to find out that which he seeks, and if that Quest, wherein he has busied himself so many Ages, has inrich'd him with any new Force, or any solid Truth: I believe he will confess, if he speaks from his Conscience, that all he has got by so long an Inquisition, is only to have learn'd to know his own Weakness. We have only by a long Stu∣dy confirm'd and verified the Natural Ignorance we were in before. The same has fallen out to Men truly Wise, which befalls Ears of Corn; they shoot and raise their heads high and pert, whilst empty; but when full and swell'd with Grain in Maturity, begin to flag and droop.

So Men having tryed and sounded all things, and not having found that Mass of Knowledge, and Provision of so many various things, no∣thing massy and firm, and nothing but Vanity, have quitted their Presumption, and acknow∣ledged their Natural Condition. 'Tis that, Vel∣leius reproaches Cotta withal and Cicero, that they learned of Philo, they had learned nothing. Pherecydes, one of the seven Sages, writing to Thales upon his Death-bed; I have, said he, gi∣ven order to my people, after my enterment to car∣ry my Writings to thee. If they please thee, and the other Sages, publish, if not, suppress them. They contain no certainty with which I my self am satisfied. Neither do I pretend to know the truth, or to attain unto it. I more open, than discover things. The wisest Man that ever was, being asked what he knew, made answer, He knew this, that he knew nothing. By which, he verified what has been said, that the greatest part of what we know, is the least of what we do not know; that is to say, that even what we think, we know, is but a peice, and a very little one, of our Ignorance. We know things in Dreams,* 1.295 says Plato, and are ignorant of them in Truth. Omnes penè Veteres nihil cog∣nosci, nihil percipi, nihil sciri posse dixerunt: An∣gustos sensus, imbecilles animos, brevia curricula vitae. Almost all the Ancients have declared, that there is nothing to be known, nothing to be understood: The Senses are too weak; Mens Minds too weak, and the little course of Life too short. And of Cicero himself, who stood indebted to

his Learning for all he was worth, Valerius says, that he began to disrelish Letters in his old Age. And when most incumbent upon his Studies, it was with great Independency upon any one Party; following what he thought pro∣bable, now in one Sect, and then in another, e∣vermore wavering under the Doubts of the A∣cademy. Dicendum est, sed ita ut nihil affirmem, quaeram omnia, dubitans plerumque,* 1.296 & mihi diffi∣dens. I am to speak, but so as to affirm nothing: I shall enquire into all things, but for the most part in doubt and distrust of myself. I should have too fair a Game, should I consider Man in his common way of Living and in Gross: And might do it however by his own Rule; who judges Truth, not by Weight, but by the num∣ber of Votes. Let us let the People alone,

—Qui vigilans stert it.* 1.297 Mortua cui vita est, propè jam atque videnti.

Who waking snore; whose life is but a Dream: Who only living and awake do seem.

who neither feel nor judg; and let most of their natural Faculties lye idle. I will take man in his highest Station. Let us consider him in that little number of men, excellent and cull'd out from the rest, who having been endowed with a remarkable and particular natural Force, have moreover hardned and whetted it by Care, Stu∣dy and Art, and raised it to the highest Pitch of Wisdom, to which it can possibly arrive.

They have adjusted their Souls to all Sences, and all Biasses; have propt and supported them with all foreign Helps proper for them, and en∣rich'd and adorn'd them with all they could bor∣row for their Advantage, both within and with∣out the World: Those are they that are plac'd in the utmost and most supreme height, to which human Nature can attain. They have regulated the World with Polities and Laws. They have instructed it with Arts and Sciences, and do yet instruct it by the Example of their admirable Manners. I shall make account of none but such men as these, and only make use of their Testimony and Experience. Let us examine how far they have proceeded, and on what they repos'd their surest hold. The Maladies and De∣fects that we shall find amongst these men, the world may boldly declare to be purely their own. Whoever goes in search of any thing, must come to this, either to say that he has found it out, or that it is not to be found out, or that he is yet upon the Quest. All Philosophy is divided into these three Kinds. All her Design is to seek out Truth, Knowledg and Certainty. The Peripate∣ticks, Epicureans, Stoicks and others, have thought they have found it. These have established the Sciences, and have treated of them, as of certain Knowledges. Clitomachus, Carneades, and the Academicks, have despaired in their Quest, and concluded that Truth could not be conceiv'd by our Understandings. The result of these are Weakness and human Ignorance. This Sect has had the most, and most noble Fol∣lowers.

Pyrrho and other Scepticks, whose Doct∣rines were held by many of the Ancients, taken from Homer, the seven Sages, Archilocus, Euri∣pides, Zeno, Democritus and Xenophones, say, that they are yet upon the Search of Truth. These conclude, that the other, who think they have found it out, are infinitely deceiv'd; and that it is too daring a Vanity in the second sort, to determine that human Reason is not able to attain unto it. For this establishing a Standard of our Power, to know and judg the Difficul∣ty of things, is a great and extream Knowledg, of which they doubt whether or no man can be capable.

Nil sciri quisquis putat, id quoque nescit, An sciri possit, quo se nil scire fatetur.* 1.298

He that says, nothing can be known,* 1.299 o'rethrows His own Opinion, for he nothing knows, So knows not that.

The Ignorance that knows itself, judges and condemns itself, is not an absolute Ignorance: Which to be, it must be ignorant of itself. So that the Profession of the Pyrrhonians is to wa∣ver, doubt and enquire, not to make themselves sure of, or responsible to themselves for any thing. Of the three Actions of the Soul, the Imaginative, Appetitive, and the Consenting, they receive the two first; the last they keep ambiguous, without Inclination or Approbati∣on, either of one thing or another, so light and

voluble it is. Zeno represented the Motion of his Imagination, upon these divisions of the Fa∣culties of the Soul, an open and expanded Hand signified Apparence: A Hand half shut, and the Fingers a little bending, Consent: A clutch'd Fist, Comprehension: When with the left he yet thrust the Fist closer, Knowledg. Now this scituation of their Judgment upright and inflexi∣ble, receiving all Objects without Application, or Consent, lead them to their Ataraxie, which is a peaceable Condition of Life,* 1.300 temperate and exempt from the Agitations we receive by the Impression of Opinion and Knowledg, that we think we have of things. From whence spring F••ar, Avarice, Envy, immoderate Desires, Ambi∣tion, Pride, Superstition, love of Novelty, Re∣bellion, Disobedience, Obstinacy, and the great∣est part of bodily Ills: Nay, and by that they are exempt from the Jealousy of their Discipline. For they debate after a very gentle manner. They fear no Revenge in their Disputes.* 1.301 When they affirm that heavy things descend; they would be sorry to be believ'd, and love to be contradicted, to engender doubt and suspence of Judgment, which is their End. They only put out Propositions to contend with those they think we have in our Belief. If you take their Arguments, they will as readily maintain the contrary: 'Tis all one to them, they have no Choice. If you maintain that Snow is Black, they will argue on the contrary that it is White; if you say it is neither the one nor the other, they will maintain that 'tis both. If you hold

by a certain Judgment that you know nothing, they will maintain that you do. Yes, and if by an affirmative Axiome you assure them that you doubt; they will argue against you, that you doubt not; or that you cannot judg and de∣termine that Doubt. And by this extremity of Doubt, which justles it self, they separate and divide themselves from many Opinions, even of those they have several ways maintained, both concerning Doubt and Ignorance. Why shall not they be allow'd, say they, as well as the Dogmatists, one to say Green, another Yel∣low, and even of those to doubt? Can any thing be propos'd to us to grant, or deny, which it shall not be permitted to consider as Ambigu∣ous? And where others are carried away, ei∣ther by the Custom of their Country, or by the Instruction of Parents, or by Accident, as by a Tempest, without Judgment, and without Choice; nay, and for the most part, before the Age of Discretion to such or such an Opinion, to the Sect of the Stoicks or Epicureans, with which they are prepossest,* 1.302 enslav'd and fast Bound, as to a thing they cannot forsake: Ad quamcumque disciplinam, velut tempestate, delati, ad eam, tanquam ad saxum, adhaerescunt. Every one cleaves to his Principles, as to a Rock against which he had been thrown by Tempest. Why shall not these likewise be permitted to maintain their Liberty, and consider things without Obliga∣tion or Slavery? Hoc liberiores & solutiores, quod integra illis est iudicandi potestas. In this more unconstrain'd and free, because they have the grea∣ter

Power of Judging. Is it not of some Advan∣tage, to be disengag'd from the Necessity that curbs others? Is it not better to remain in Sus∣pence, than to entangle himself in the innume∣rable Errors that human Fancy has produc'd? Is it not much better to suspend the Perswasion, than to intermeddle with these wrangling and seditious Divisions? What shall I choose? What you please, provided you will choose. A very foolish Answer: But such a one nevertheless, as all Doctrine seems to point at, and by which we are not permitted to be ignorant of what we are ignorant. Take the most eminent Side, that of the greatest Reputation; it will never be so sure, that you shall not be forc'd to attack and contend with a hundred and a hundred Ad∣versaries to defend it. Is it not better to keep out of this Hurly-burly? You are permitted to embrace Aristotles Opinion of the Immortality of the Soul,* 1.303 with as much Zeal as your Ho∣nour and Life, and to give the Lye to Plato, and shall they be interdicted to doubt him? If it be lawful for Panetius to maintain his Opinion a∣bout Augury, Dreams, Oracles, Vaticinations; of which the Stoicks make no doubt at all; why may not a wise Man dare to do the same in all things, that he dar'd to do in those he had learn'd of his Masters, establish'd by the com∣mon Consent of the School, whereof he is a Professor and a Member? If it be a Child that judges, he knows not what it is: If a wise Man, he is Prepossest. They have reserv'd for them∣selves a marvellous Advantage in Battle, having

eas'd themselves of the care of Defence. If you strike them they care not, provided they strike too, and they turn every thing to their own Advantage. If they overcome, your Argument is Lame; if you, theirs: If they fall short, they verify Ignorance; if you fall short, you do it: If they prove, that nothing is known, it goes well; if they cannot prove it, 'tis as well: Vt quum in eadem re paria contrariis in partibus mo∣menta inveniuntur, facilius ab utraque parte Asser∣tio sustineatur. That when like Sentiments happen pro and con in the same thing, the Assertion may on both sides be more easily suspended. And they make account to find out with much greater Fa∣cility why a thing is false, than why 'tis true, that which is not, than that that is, and what they do not believe, than what they do. Their way of speaking is, I assert nothing, it is no more so, than so, or than neither one nor t'other: I un∣derstand it not. Apparences are every where e∣qual: The Law of speaking pro or con, is the same. Nothing seems true, that may not seem false. Their Sacramental Word is 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, that is to say, I hold, I start not. This is the burthen of their Song, and others of like stuff. The ef∣fect of which is a pure, entire, perfect and ab∣solute suspension of Judgment. They make use of their Reason to enquire and debate, but not to fix and determine. Whoever shall imagine a perpetual Confession of Ignorance, a Judgment without Bias, Propension or Inclination, upon a∣ny Occasion whatever, conceives a true Idea of Pyrrhonisme. I express this Fancy as well as I

can, by reason, that many find it hard to con∣ceive, and Authors themselves represent it a little variously and obscurely. As to what con∣cerns the Actions of Life, they are in this of the common Fashion. They yield and give up themselves to their natural Inclinations, to the Power and Impulse of Passions, to the Consti∣tution of Laws and Customs, and to the Tradi∣tion of Arts.* 1.304 Non enim nos Deus ista scire sed tantummodo uti voluit. For God would not have us know, but only use those things. They suffer their ordinary Actions to be guided by those things, without any Dispute or Judgment. For which Reason I cannot consent to what is said of Pyrrho. They represent him stupid and im∣moovable, leading a kind of Savage and Inso∣ciable Life, standing the justle of Carts, going upon Precipices, and refusing to accommodate himself to the Laws. This is to enhaunce upon his Discipline. He would never make himself a Stock or a Stone, he would shew himself a li∣ving Man, Discoursing, Reasoning, Enjoying all natural Conveniences and Pleasures, employing and making use of all his corporal and spiritual Faculties in Rule and Reason. The fantastick, imaginary and false Privileges that Man has usurp'd of Lording it, Ordaining and Establish∣ing, he has utterly quitted and renounc'd. Yet there is no Sect but is constrain'd to permit her Sage to follow several things, not Compre∣hended, Perceiv'd, or Consented to, if he means to live. And if he goes to Sea, he follows that Design, not knowing whether his Voyage shall

be successful or no; and only insists upon the Tightness of the Vessel, the Experience of the Pilot, and the Convenience of the Season, and such probable Circumstances. After which he is bound to go, and suffer himself to be govern'd by Apparences, provided there be no express and manifest Contrariety in them. He has a Body, he has a Soul, the Senses push them, the Mind spurs them on. And altho he do not find in himself this proper and singular sign of Judg∣ing, and that he does perceive that he ought not to engage his Consent, considering that there may be some false, equal to these true Appa∣rences, yet does he not for all that fail of car∣rying on the Offices of his Life with great Li∣berty and Convenience. How many Arts are there that profess to consist more in Conjecture than Knowledg? That decide not true and false, and only follow that, which seems the one or the other? There are, say they, true and false, and we have in us wherewith to seek it; but not to make it stay when we touch it. We are much more prudent, in letting our selves be carried away by the swing of the World without Inqui∣sition. A Soul clear from Prejudice, has a mar∣vailous Advance towards Tranquillity and Re∣pose. Men that judg and controul their Judges, do never duly submit to them. How much more docile and easy to be govern'd, both in the Laws of Religion and civil Politie, are sim∣ple and incurious Minds, than those over-vigi∣lant Wits, that will still be prating of Divine and Human Causes? There is nothing in human

Invention, that carries so great a shew of like∣lyhood and utility as this. This present Man, naked and empty, confessing his natural Weak∣ness, fit to receive some foreign Force from a∣bove, unfurnish'd of Human, and therefore more apt to receive into him the Divine Know∣ledg, undervaluing his own Judgment, to make more Room for Faith: Neither beleiving amiss, nor establishing any Doctrine against the Laws and common Observances, Humble, Obedient, Disciplinable, Studious, a sworn Enemy of He∣resy; and consequently, freeing himself from vain and irreligious Opinions, introduc'd by false Sects, Sectarys and Hereticks. 'Tis a blank Paper prepared to receive such Forms from the Finger of God, as he shall please to write upon it. The more we resign and commit our selves to God, and the more we renounce our selves, of the greater value we are. Take in good part, says Eclesiastes, the things that present them∣selves to thee, as they seem and tast from Hand to Mouth: The rest is out of thy Knowledg. Dominus novit cogitationes hominum, quoniam vanae sunt.* 1.305 The Lord knoweth the Heart of Men, that they are but Vanity. Thus we see, that of three general Sects of Philosophy, two make open pro∣fession of Doubt and Ignorance, and in that of the Dogmatists, which is the third, it is easy to discover, that the greatest part of them only assume this face of Confidence and Assurance, that they may have the better Grace. They have not so much thought to establish any Certainty for us, as to shew us how far they

have proceeded in their search of Truth, quam docti fingunt magis quàm norunt. Which the learn∣ed rather feign than know. Timaeus being to in∣••••ruct Socrates in what he knew of the Gods, the World and Men, proposes to speak to him as a Man to a Man, and that it is sufficient, if his Rea∣sons are probable, as those of another: For that exact Reason were neither in his, nor any other mortal Hand. Which one of his Followers has thus imitated: Vt potero, explicabo; nec tamen ••t Pythius Apollo, certa ut sint, & fixa,* 1.306 quae dixero: Sed ut homunculus, probabilia conjectura sequens. I will, as well as I am able, explain; yet not as Pythius Apollo, that what I say, should be fix'd and certain, but like a Man that follows Probabilities by Conjecture. And that other, up∣on the natural and common Subject of the Con∣tempt of Death, he has elsewhere translated from the very Words of Plato. Si fortè, de Diorum natura ortumque Mundi disserentes,* 1.307 minus id quod habemus in animo consequimur, haud erit mirum. Aequum est enim meminisse, & me qui disseram, hominem esse, & vos qui judicetis: Vt si probabilia dicentur, nihil ultra requiratis. If perchance, when we discourse of the Nature of Gods, and the Worlds Original, we cannot do it as we de∣sire, it will be no great Wonder. For it is just you should remember, that both I who speak, and you who are to judg are Men: So that if probable things are deliver'd, you should require and ex∣pect no more. Aristotle does ordinarily heap up a great number of other Opinions and Beliefs, to compare them with his own, and to let us see

how much he has gone beyond them, and how much nearer he approaches to Possibility and likelyhood of Truth. For Truth is not to be judg'd by the Authority and Testimony of o∣thers; which made Epicurus religiously avoid quoting them in his Writings. This is the Prince of all Dogmatists, and yet we are told by him, that much Knowledg does administer ma∣ny Occasions of doubting more. In earnest, we see him sometimes so shrowd and muffle up him∣self in so thick and so inexplicable Obscurity, that we know not what use to make of his Ad∣vice. It is in effect a Pyrrhonisme under a con∣cluding and determining Form. Hear Cicero's Protestation, who expounds to us anothers Fan∣cy by his own. Qui requirunt, quid de quaque re ipsi sentiamus:* 1.308 curiosius id faciunt, quam neces∣se est. Haec Philosophiae ratio, contra omnia disse∣rendi, nullamque rem apertè judicandi, profecta à Socrates, repetita ab Arcesilao, confirmata à Carne∣ade, usque ad nostram viget aetatem. Hi sumus, qui omnibus veris falsa quaedam adjuncta esse dica∣mus, tanta similitudine, ut in iis nulla insit judi∣candi, & assentiendi nota. They who desire to know what we think of every thing; are there∣in more inquisitive than is necessary. This Pract∣ice in Philosophy, of disputing against every thing, and of absolutely concluding nothing, begun by Socrates, repeated by Arcesilaus, and con∣firm'd by Carneades, has continued in use even to our own times. We are they, who declare that there is so great a Mixture of things false, amongst all that are true, and they so resemble

one another, that there can be in them no cer∣tain Mark to direct us, either to judg or assent. Why have not Aristotle only, but the most of Philosophers, affected Difficulty, if not to set a greater Value upon the Vanity of the Subject, and amuse the Curiosity of our Wits, by giving them this Bone to Pick. Clitomachus affirm'd, that he could never discover by Carneades Wri∣tings, what Opinion he was of. This was it that made Epicurus affect to be Abstruse, and that procured Heraclitus the Epithete to his Name of 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉,* 1.309 Difficulty is a Coyn the Learn'd make use of, like Juglers, to conceal the Vanity of their Art, and which human Sottishness easily takes for currant Pay.

Clarus ob obscuram linguam, magis inter inanes:* 1.310 Omnia enim stolida magis admirantur amántque, Inversis quae sub verbis latitantia cernunt.

Bumbast and Riddle, best do Puppies please, For Fools admire and love such things as these. And a dull Quibble wrapt in dubious Phrase; That to the height does their wise Wonder raise.

Cicero reprehends some of his Acquaintance and Friends, for giving more of their Time to the Study of Astrologie, Law, Logick, and Geome∣try, than they were really worth; saying, that they were by those diverted from the Duties of Life, and from more profitable and gentile Stu∣dies. The Cyrenaick Philosophers did equally de∣spise

natural Philosophy and Logick. Zeno, in the very beginning of the Books of the Common∣wealth,* 1.311 declar'd all the liberal Arts of no use. Chrysippus said, that what Plato and Aristotle had writ concerning Logick, they had only done it in Sport, and by way of Exercise: And could not believe, that they spoke in earnest of so vain a thing. Plutarch says the same of Metaphy∣sicks: And Epicurus would have said as much of Rhethorick, Grammar, Poesy, Mathematicks, and (Natural Philosophy excepted) of all the other Sciences; and Socrates of them all, excepting that of Manners and of Life. Whatever any one required to be instructed in by him, he would ever, in the first place, demand an ac∣count of the Conditions of his Life present and past, which he examin'd and judg'd; esteeming all other Learning subsequent to that, and su∣pernumerary.* 1.312 Parum mihi placeant eae literae, quae ad virtutem Doctoribus nihil profuerunt. That Learning is in small repute with me, which nothing profited the Teachers themselves to Vertue. Most of the Arts have been in like manner de∣cry'd by the same Knowledg. But they did not consider that it was from the purpose, to exer∣cise their Wits in those very matters wherein, there was no solid Advantage. As to the rest: Some have look'd upon Plato as a Dogmatist, o∣thers as a Doubter, others in some things the one, and in other things the other. Socrates, the Introducer of Dialogismes, is eternally upon Questions and stirring up Disputes, never deter∣mining, never satisfying: And professes to have

no other Science but that of opposing himself. Homer, their Author, has equally laid the Foun∣dations of all the Sects of Philosophy, to shew how indifferent it was, which way we should choose. 'Tis said, that ten several Sects sprung from Plato; and in my Opinion, never did any Instruction hault and stumble, if his does not: So∣crates said, that * 1.313 Midwives in taking upon them the trade of helping others to bring forth, left the Trade of bringing forth themselves; and that he by the Title of a wise Man or Sage, that the God's had confer'd upon him, was disabled in his virile and mental Love, of the Faculty of bringing forth, consenting to help and assist those that could; to open their Nature, anoint the Passes, and facilitate their Birth: To judg of the Infant, Kiss, Nourish, Fortifie, Swath, and Circumcise it, exercising and employing his Un∣derstanding in the Perils and Fortunes of others. It is so with the most part of this third sort of Authors, as the Ancients have observ'd in the Writings of Anaxagoras, Democritus, Parmeni∣des, Zenophanes and others. They have a way of Writing, doubtful in Substance and Design, rather enquiring than teaching; though they mix their Style with some Dogmatical Periods. Is not the same thing seen in Seneca and Plutarch? How many Contradictions are there to be found, if a Man pry narrowly into them? So many, that the reconciling Lawyers ought first to reconcile them every one to themselves. Pla∣to seems to have affected this Method of Philo∣sophizing in Dialogues; to the end, that he might

with greater Decency from several Mouths, deliver the Diversity and Variety of his own Fancies. To treat variously of things, is as well to treat of them, as conformably, and better, that is to say, more copiously, and with grea∣ter Profit. Let us take Example from our selves. Judgments are the utmost Period of all Dog∣matical and determinative speaking: And yet those Arrests that our Parliaments give the Peo∣ple, the most exemplary of them, and those are most proper to nourish in them the Reverence due to that Dignity, principally through the Sufficiency of the Persons Acting, derive their Beauty, not so much from the Conclusion, which with them is quotidien and common to every Judg, as from the Dispute and Heat of diverse and contrary Arguments, that the matter of Law and Equity will permit. And the largest Field for Reprehension, that some Philosophers have against others, is drawn from the Diversi∣ties and Contradictions, wherein every one of them finds himself Perplex'd: Either on pur∣pose to shew the Vacillation of human Wit con∣cerning every thing; or ignorantly compell'd by the Volability and Incomprehensibility of all Matter. What means this Clinck in the Close? In a slippery and sliding place let us suspend our Belief: For as Euripedes says.

* 1.314Les oeuures de Dieu en diverses Façons, nous donnent des Traverses.

The works of God in sundry wise, Do puzzle Mens Capacities.

Like that which Empedocles; as if rapt with a Di∣vine Fury, and compell'd by Truth, often strew'd here and there in his Writings. No no, we feel nothing, we see nothing, all things are conceal'd from us; there is not one thing, of which we can positively say, it is this: According to the Di∣vine saying, Cogitationes mortalium timidae, & incertae adinventiones nostrae, & providentiae. For the Thoughts of mortal Men are Miserable;* 1.315 and our Devices are but uncertain. It is not to be thought strange, if Men, despairing to overtake what they hunt after, have not however lost the Pleasure of the Chace; Study being of it self so pleasant an Employment, and so Pleasant, that amongst other Pleasures, the Stoicks for∣bid that also which proceeds from the Exercise of the Wit, will have it curb'd, and find a kind of Intemperance in thirsting too much after Knowledg. Democritus having eaten Figs at his Table that tasted of Honey, fell presently to Considering with himself, from whence they should derive this unusual Sweetness; and to be satisfied in it, was about to rise from the Table, to see the place from whence the Figs had been gathered? Which his Maid observing, and ha∣ving understood the Cause, she smilingly told him, that he need not trouble himself about that, for she had put them into a Vessel, in which there had been Honey. He was vext at

this Discovery, and that she had depriv'd him of the Occasion of this Inquisition, and robb'd his Curiosity of Matter to work upon. Go thy way, said he, thou hath done me an Injury; but for all that, I will seek out the Cause as if it were natural; and would willingly have found out some true Reason, for a false and imaginary Ef∣fect. This Story of a famous and great Philo∣sopher does very clearly represent to us the stu∣dious Passion, that puts us upon the pursuit of things, of the Acquisition of which we despair. Plutarch gives a like Example of some one, who would not be satisfied in that whereof he was in Doubt, that he might not lose the Pleasure of enquiring into it: Like the other, who would not that his Physitian should allay the Thirst of his Feaver, that he might not lose the Pleasure of quenching it by drinking. Satius est supervacua discere,* 1.316 quàm nihil. 'Tis better to learn more than is necessary, than nothing at all. As in all sorts of feeding, the Pleasure of eating is very often single and alone, and that what we take, which is acceptable to the Palate, is not always nourishing or wholesom: So that which our Understandings extract from Science, does not cease to be Pleasant, though there be no∣thing in it, either nutritive or healthful. Thus, they say, the consideration of Nature is a Diet proper for our Minds, it raises and elevates us, makes us disdain low and terrestrial Things, by comparing them with those that are Celestial and high: Even the Inquisition of great and occult things is very Pleasant, even to those who

acquire no other Benefit, than the Reverence and Fear of judging it. This is what they Pro∣fess. The vain Image of this sickly Curiosity is yet more manifest in this other Example, that they so often urge. Eudoxus wish'd and begg'd of the Gods, that he might once see the Sun near at Hand, to comprehend the Form, Great∣ness and Beauty of it; on the Condition to be immediately burn'd. He would at the Price of his Life purchase a Knowledg, of which the Use and Possession should at the same time be taken from him: And for this suddain and vanish∣ing Knowledg, lose all the other Knowledges he had in present, or might afterwards have ac∣quired. I cannot easily perswade myself, that Epicurus, Plato and Pythagoras, have given us their Atomes, Ide••s and Numbers for currant Pay. They were too wise to establish their Articles of Faith upon things so Disputable and so Incertain: But in the Obscurity and Ignorance the World then was, every one of these great Men endea∣voured to present some kind of Image or Re∣flexion of Light; and work'd their Brains for Inventions, that might have a pleasant and sub∣tile Apparence; provided, that false as they were, they might make good their Ground a∣gainst those that would oppose them. Vnicui∣que ista pro ingenio singuntur, non ex scientiae vi. These things every one fancies according to his Wit, and not by any power of Knowledg. One of the Ancients, who was reproach'd, That he pro∣fest Philosophy, of which he nevertheless in his own Judgment made no great Account. Made Answer,

That that was truly to Philosophize: They would consider all, and ballance every thing, and have found that an Employment well suited to our natural Curiosity. Some things they have writ for the benefit of publick Society, as their Reli∣gions, and for that Consideration it was but rea∣sonable, that they should not examine publick Opinions to the Quick, that they might not disturb the common Obedience to the Laws and Customs of their Country. Plato treats of this Mystery with a Raillery manifest enough. For where he writes according to his own Method; he gives no certain Rule. When he plays the Legislator, he borrows a magisterial and positive Style, and boldly there foists in his most fanta∣stick Inventions, as fit to persuade the Vulgar, as impossible to be believ'd by himself: Knowing very well, how fit we are to receive all sorts of Impressions, especially the most immoderate and wicked. And yet in his Laws, he takes singular Care that nothing be sung in Publick but Poetry; of which, the Fiction and fabulous Relations tend to some advantageous End: It being so easy to imprint all sorts of Phantasmes in human Minds, that it were Injustice not to feed them rather with profitable Untruths, than with Untruths that are unprofitable and hurtful. He says ve∣ry plainly in his Commonwealth, that it is very oft necessary for the profit of Men, to deceive them. It is very easy to distinguish, that some of the Sects have more followed Truth, and the others Vtility, by which the last have gain'd their Reputation. 'Tis the misery of our Con∣dition,

that often that which presents it self to our Imagination for the most true, does not ap∣pear the most utile to Life. The boldest Sects, as the Epicurean, Pyrrhonian, and the new Aca∣demick, are yet constrain'd to submit to the Ci∣vil Law, at the end of the Account. Other Subjects there are, that they have tumbl'd and tost some to the right, and others to the left, e∣very one endeavouring, right or wrong, to give them some kind of Colour; for having found no∣thing so Abstruse, they would not venture to speak to: They are very often forc'd to forge weak and ridiculous Conjectures; not that they themselves look'd upon them as any Foundati∣on, or establish any certain Truth, but meerly for Exercise. Non tam id sensisse, quod dicerent,* 1.317 quàm exercere ingenia materiae difficultate viden∣tur voluisse: Not so much, that they themselves be∣leiv'd what they said, as that they seem to have a mind to exercise their Wits in the Difficulty of the matter. And if we did not take it thus, how should we palliate so great Inconstancy, Variety, and Vanity of Opinions, as we see have been produc'd by those excellent and admirable Souls? For for Example, what can be more Vain than to imagine to guess at Almighty God by our Analogies and Conjectures? To direct and go∣vern him and the World, by our Capacities and our Laws? And to serve our selves at the Ex∣pence of the Divinity, with that small Portion of Knowledg he has been pleas'd to impart to our natural Condition? And because we cannot ex∣tend our Sight to his glorious Throne, to have

brought him down to our Corruption, and our Miseries? Of all human and ancient Opinions concerning Religion, that seems to me the most likely, and most excusable, that acknowledg'd God an Incomprehensible Power; the Original and Preserver of all things, all Bounty, all Per∣fection, receiving and taking in good part the Honor and Reverence that Man paid unto him, under what Method, Name or Ceremonies so∣ever.

Jupiter omnipotens rerum, regúmque Deûmque, Progenitor, Genitrixque —

This Zeal has universally been look'd upon from Heaven with a gracious Eye. All Governments have reap'd Fruit from their Devotion: Men, and impious Actions, have every where had suitable Events.* 1.318 Pagan Histories acknowledg Dignity, Order, Justice, Prodiges and Oracles, employ'd for their Profit and Instruction in their fabulous Religions. God, peradventure, through his Mercy vouchsafing by these temporal Bene∣fits, to cherish the tender Principles of a kind of a brutish Knowledg, that natural Reason gave them of him, through the deceiving Images of their Dreams. Not only deceiving and false, but impious also; and injurious are those that Man has forg'd from his own Invention. And of all the Religions that St. Paul found in Repute at A∣thens, that which they had dedicated to an un∣known Divinity, seem'd to him the most to be excus'd. Pythagoras shadow'd the Truth a lit∣tle

more closely:* 1.319 Judging that the Knowledg of this first Cause, and Being of Beings, ought to be indefinite, without Limitation, without De∣claration: That it was nothing else, than the extream Effort of our Imagination towards Per∣fection;* 1.320 every one amplifying the Idea accord∣ing to the Talent of his Capacity. But if Nu∣ma attempted to conform the Devotion of his People to this Project; to ty them to a Religion purely mental, without any prefixt Object and material Mixture, he undertook a thing of no use. Human Wit could never support it self floating in such an infinity of inform Thoughts, there is required some certain Image to be pre∣sented, according to its own Model. The Di∣vine Majesty has thus, in some sort, suffered himself to be circumscrib'd in corporal Limits, for our Advantage: His supernatural and celesti∣al Sacraments have Signs of our earthly Condi∣tion: His Adoration is by sensible Offices and Words; for 'tis Man that Believes and Prays. I shall omit the other Arguments upon this Sub∣ject: But a Man would have much ado to make me believe, that the sight of our Crucifixes, that the Picture of our Saviours Passion, that the Or∣naments and Ceremonious Motions of our Churches, that the Voices accommodated to the Devotion of our Thoughts, and that Emotion of Senses do not warm the Souls of the People with a Religious Passion of very advantagious Effects. Of those, to whom they have given a Body as Necessity required in that universal Blindness, I should, I fancy, most encline to those, who Ador'd the Sun.

—la lumiere commune, * 1.321L'aeil du monde; & si Dieu au chef porte des yeux, Les rayons du soleil sont ses yeux radeux, Qui donnent vie a tous, nous maintiennent, & gardent, Et les faits des humains en ce monde regardent: Ce beau, ce grand soleil, qui nous fait les saisons, Selon qu'il entre, ou sort de ses douze maisons: Qui remplit l'univers de ses vertus cogneües: Qui d'vn traict de ses yeux nous dissipe les nuës: L'esprit, bame du monde ardant, & flamboyant, En la course d'un jour tout le Ciel tournoyant, Plein d'immense grandeur, rond, vagabond, & ferme: Lequel tient dessoubs luy tout le monde pour terme: En repos, sans repos, oysif, & sans sejour, Fils aisnè de Nature, & le Pere du jour.

The common Light that Shines indifferently On all alike, the Worlds enlightning Eyes, And if th' Almighty Ruler of the Skies Has Eyes, the Sun-Beams are his radiant Eyes, That Life to all impart, maintain and guard, And all Mens Actions upon Earth regard. This Great, this Beautiful, and glorious Sun, That Seasons gives by Revolution: That with his Influence fills the Universe, And with one Glaunce does sullen Shades disperse. Life, Soul oth' World, that flaming in his Sphear, Surrounds the Heavens in one Days carreer,

Immensly great, moving, yet firm and round, Who the whole World below has fix'd his Bound, At Rest without Rest, Idle without Stay, Natures first Son, and Father of the Day.

Forasmuch as besides this Grandeur and Beau∣ty of his, 'tis the only piece of this Machin that we discover at the remotest distance from us; and by that means so little known, that they were pardonable, for entring into so great admiration and reverence of it. Thales, who first inquir'd into this sort of matter, believ'd God to be a Spirit, that made all things of Wa∣ter. Anaximander, that the Gods were always dying, and entring into Life; and that there were an infinite number of Worlds. Anaximines, that the Air was God, that he was procreated and immense, always moving. Anaxagoras the First, was of Opinion, that the description and manner of all things were conducted by the Power and Reason of an infinite Spirit. Alc∣maeon gave the Divinity to the Sun, Moon and Stars, and to the Soul. Pythagoras has made God a Spirit sprinkled over the Nature of all things, from whence our Souls are extracted. Parmenides, a Circle surrounding the Heaven, and supporting the World by the Ardour of Light. Empedocles pronounc'd the four Ele∣ments, of which all things are compos'd, to be Gods. Protagoras had nothing to say, whether they were or were not, or what they were. Democritus was one while of Opinion, that the

Images and their Circuitions were Gods, another this Nature that darts out those Images, and then our Science and Intelligence. Plato de∣vides his Belief into several Opinions. He says in his Timaeus, That the Father of the World cannot be nam'd; In his Laws, That Men are not to inquire into his Being. And elsewhere in the very same Books, he makes the World, the Heavens, the Stars, the Earth, and our Souls, Gods, admitting moreover those which have been receiv'd by Ancient Institution in every Republick. Xenophon reports a like Perplexity in Socrates his Doctrine. One while that Men are not to inquire into the Form of God, and presently makes him maintain that the Sun is God, and the Soul, God; and the first, that there is but one God, and afterwards that there are many. Speucippus the Nephew of Plato makes God a certain Power governing all things, and that he has a Soul. Aristotle one while says, it is the Spirit, and another, the World; one while he gives this World another Master, and another makes God the Ardour of Heaven. Zenocrates makes eight, five nam'd amongst the Planets, the sixth compos'd of all the fixt Stars, as of so many Members, the seventh and the eighth, the Sun and the Moon. Heraclides Pon∣ticus does nothing but float in his Opinion, and finally deprives God of Sense, and makes him shift from one Form to another, and at last says, that 'tis Heaven and Earth. Theophrastus wanders in the same Irresolution amongst his Fancies, attributing the Superintendency of the

World, one while, to the Vnderstanding, ano∣ther while to Heaven, and another to the Stars. Strato, that 'tis Nature, she having the power of Generation, Augmentation and Diminuition, without Form and Sentiment. Zeno says, 'tis the Law of Nature commanding Good, and prohibiting Evil; which Law is an Animal, and takes away the accustom'd Gods, Jupiter, Juno and Vesta: Diogenes Apolloniates, this 'tis Age. Zenophanes makes God round, seeing and hear∣ing, not breathing, and having nothing in common with Human Nature. Aristo thinks the Form of God to be incomprehensible, deprives him of Sence, and knows not whether he be an Animal, or something else. Cleanthes one while supposes it to be Reason; another while, the World; another, the Soul of Nature; and then the supream Heat rouling about, and en∣vironing all. Perseus, Zeno's Disciple, was of Opinion, that Men have given the Title of Gods to such as have been useful, and have ad∣ded any advantage to Human Life, and even to profitable things themselves. Crysippus made a confus'd heap of Old Sentences, and reckons amongst a thousand Forms of Gods that he makes, the Men also that have been Deified. Diagoras and Theodorus flatly deny'd, that there were any Gods at all. Epicurus makes the Gods shining, transparent and perflable, lodg'd, as betwixt two Forts, betwixt the two Worlds, secure from blows, cloth'd in a Human Figure, and with such Members as we have; which Members are to them of no use.

* 1.322Ego Deum genus esse semper duxi & dicam caelitum, Sed eos non curare opinor, quid agat humanum genus.

I ever thought that Gods above there were, But do not think they care what Men do here.

Trust to your Philosophy, my Masters: And brag, that you have found the Bean in the Cake; What a Rattle is here with so many Philosophical Heads! The perplexity of so many Worldly Forms have gain'd this over me, that Man∣ners and Opinions contrary to mine, do not so much displease as instruct me; nor so much make me proud, as they humble me in com∣paring them. And all other choice, than what comes from the Express and immediate Hand of God, seems to me a Choice of very little Priviledge. The Policies of the World are no less opposite upon this Subject, than the Schools, by which we may understand, that Fortune it self is not more variable and inconstant, nor more blind and inconsiderate than our Reason. The things that are most unknown, are most proper to be deified; wherefore to make Gods of our selves, as the Ancients did, exceeds the extreamest Weakness of Understanding. I should much rather have gone along with those who ador'd the Serpent, the Dog, or the Oxe: For∣asmuch as their Nature and Being is less known

to us, and that we have more Authority to imagine what we please of those Beasts, and to attribute to them extraordinary Faculties. But to have made Gods of our own condition, of whom we ought to know the Imperfections; and to have attributed to them Desire, Anger, Revenge, Marriages, Generation, Alliances, Love and Jealousie; our Members and Bones, our Fea∣vers and Pleasures, our Death and Obsequies; this must needs proceed from a marvelous In∣toxication of Human Understanding.

Que procul usque adeo divino ab numine distant,* 1.323 Inque Deum numero quae sint indigna videri.

From Divine Natures, which so distant were, They are unworthy of that Character.

Formae, aetates, vestitus, ornatus noti sunt: Genera,* 1.324 conjugia, cognationes, omnidque traducta ad simi∣litudinem imbecillitatis humanae; nam & pertur∣batis animis inducuntur: Accipimus enim Deorum cupiditates, aegritudines, iracundias. Their Forms, Ages, Cloaths and Ornaments are known: Their Descents, Marriages and Kindred, and all appro∣priated to the similitude of Human Weakness; for they are represented to us with anxious Minds, and we read of the Lusts, Sickness and Anger of the Gods. As having attributed Divinity not only to Faith, Vertue, Honour, Concord, Liber∣ty, Victory and Piety; but also to Voluptuous∣ness, Fraud, Death, Envy, Old Age; Misery;

to fear, Feaver, ill Fortune, and other Injuries of our frail and transitory Life.

* 1.325Quid juvat hoc, templis nostros inducere mores? O curvae in terris an••mae, & caelestium inanes!

Into our Temples, to what end or use, Do we our Ceremonies introduce? Oh crooked Souls, that to the Earth bow low, And nought of Heav'nly Mysteries do know!

The Egyptians with an impudent Prudence, in∣terdicted upon pain of hanging, that any one should say, that their Gods, Serapis and Isis, had formerly been Men: And yet no one was ignorant, that they had been such. And their Effigies represented with the Finger upon the Mouth, signified, says Varro, that mysterious Decree to their Priests, to conceal their mortal Original, as it must by necessary Consequence cancel all the Veneration pay'd to them. See∣ing that Man so much desir'd to equal himself to God; he had done better, says Cicero, to have attracted those Divine Conditions to him∣self, and have drawn them down hither below, than to send his Corruption and Misery up on high: But to take it right, he has several ways done both the one and the other, with like vanity of Opinion. When Philosophers search narrowly into the Hierarchy of their Gods, and make a great bustle about distinguishing their Alliances, Offices and Power, I cannot believe they speak as they think. When Plato describes

Pluto's Verger to us, and the bodily Conveniences or Pains that attend us after the ruin and annihi∣lation of our Bodies, and accommodate them to the resentment we have in this Life.

Secreti celant colles,* 1.326 & myrtea circùm Sylva tegit, curae non ipsa in morte relinquunt.

In Vales, and mirtle Groves they pensive lye, And their Cares do not leave them when they dye.

When Mahomet promises his Followers a Paradise hung with Tapestry, guilded and enamel'd with Gold and precious Stones, furnished with Wenches of excelling Beauty, rare Wines, and delicate Dishes, it is easily discern'd that these are Deceivers that accommodate their Promises to our Sensuality, to attract and allure us by Hopes and Opinions suitable to our mortal Ap∣petite. And yet some amongst us are fallen into the like Error, promising to themselves, after the Resurrection, a Terrestial and Temporal Life, accompanied with all sorts of Worldly Conveni∣ences and Pleasures. Can we believe that Plato, he who had so heavenly Conceptions, and was so well acquainted with the Divinity, as thence to derive the Name of the Divine Plato, ever thought that the poor Creature, Man, had any thing in him applicable to that incomprehensible Power? And that he believ'd that the weak Holds we are able to take, were capable, or the Force of our Understanding sufficient to parti∣cipate

of Beatitude, or Eternal Pains? We should then tell him from Human Reason; If the Pleasures thou dost promise us in the other Life, are of the same kind that I have injoy'd here be∣low, this has nothing in common with Infinity: Though all my five Natural Senses should be even loaded with Pleasure, and my Soul full of all the Contentment it could hope or desire, we know what all this amounts to, all this would be nothing: If there be any thing of mine there, there is nothing Divine; if this be no more than what may belong to our present Condition, it cannot be of any value. All Contentment of Mortals is mortal. Even the Knowledge of our Parents, Children and Friends, if that can effect and delight us in the other World, if there that still continue a satisfaction to us, we still remain in earthly and finite Conveniences. We cannot, as we ought, conceive the greatness of these High and Divine Promises, if we could in any sort conceive them: To have a worthy Imagination of them, we must imagine them inimaginable, inexplicable and incomprehensible, and absolutely another thing, than those of our miserable experience.* 1.327 Eye hath not seen, saith St. Paul, nor ear heard, neither have entred into the Heart of Man, the things that God hath prepared for them that love him. And if to render us ca∣pable, our being be reform'd and chang'd (as thou Plato sayst in thy Purifications) it ought to be so extream and total a Change, that by Physical Doctrine, it will be no more.

Hector erat tunc cùm bello certabat,* 1.328 at ille Tractus ab Aemonio non erat Hector equo.

He Hector was, whilst he could fight, but when Drag'd by Achilles Steeds, no Hector then.

It must be something else that must receive these Recompences.

—quod mutatur, dissolvitur, interit ergo:* 1.329 Trajiciuntur enim partes atque ordine migrant.

What's chang'd dissolv'd is, and doth there∣fore dye, For parts are mixt, and from their Order fly.

For in Pythagoras his Metempsycosis, and the change of Habitation that he imagin'd in Souls, can we believe that the Lyon, in whom the Soul of Caesar is inclos'd, does espouse Caesar's Pas∣sions, or that the Lyon is he? For if it was still Caesar, they would be in the right, who, controverting this Opinion with Plato, reproach him, that the Son might be seen to ride his Mo∣ther transform'd into a Mule, and the like Ab∣surdities. And can we believe, that in the Mu∣tations that are made of the Bodies of Animals into others of the same kind, that the new Commers are not other, than their Predeces∣sors? From the Ashes of a Phoenix, a Worm they say is engendred, and from that, another Phoenix, who can imagine that this second Phoe∣nix,

is not other than the first? We see our Silk-worms, as it were, dye and wither; and from this wither'd Body, a Butterflie is pro∣duced, and from that, another Worm; how ridiculous would it be, to imagine, that this were still the first? That which has once ceas'd to be, is no more:

* 1.330Nec si materiam nostram collegerit aetas Post obitum, rursumque redegerit, ut sit a nunc est. Atque iterum nobis fuerint data lumina vitae, Pertineat quidquam tamen ad nos id quoque factum, Interrupta semel cùm sit repetentia nostra.

Neither though time should gather and restore Our Matter to the Form it was before, And give again new Light to see withal, Would that new Figure us concern at all; Or we again ever the same be seen, Our Being having interrupted been.

And Plato when thou saist in another place, that it shall be the Spiritual part of Man, that will be concern'd in the Fruition of the Recompences of another Life, thou tellest us a thing where∣in there is as little appearance of Truth. * 1.331

Scilicet avolsis radicibus, ut neque ullam Dispicere ipse oculus rem seorsum corpore toto.

No more than Eyes once from their Opticks torn. Can ever after any thing discern.

For by this account, it would no more be Man, nor consequently us, who should be concern'd in this Enjoyment: For we are compos'd of two principally Essential Parts, the separation of which is the Death and Ruin of our Being.

Inter enim jacta est vitai pausa,* 1.332 vagèque Deerarunt passim motus ab sensibus omnes.

When Life's extinct, all Motions of Sence Are ta'ne away, dispers'd and banish'd thence.

We cannot say, that the Man suffers much when the Worms feed upon his Members, and that the Earth consumes them:

Et nihil hoc ad nos, qui coitu conjugiòque Corporis atque animae consistimus uniter apti.* 1.333

What's that to us who longer feel not Pain, Than Body and Soul united do remain.

Moreover upon what Foundation of their Ju∣stice can the Gods take notice of, or reward Man after his Death, for his good and vertu∣ous Actions, since it was they themselves that put them in the way and mind to do them? And why should they be offended at, or punish him for wicked ones, since themselves have created him in so frail a condition, and what with one Glaunce of their Will, they might prevent him from falling? Might not Epicurus

with great colour of Human Reason object that to Plato, did he not often save himself with this Sentence, That it is impossible to establish any thing certain of the immortal Nature by the Mortal? She does nothing but err throughout, but especially when she meddles with Divine things. Who does more evidently perceive this, than we? For although we have given her cer∣tain and infallible Principles; and though we have inlightned her Steps with the Sacred Lamp of Truth, that it has pleas'd God to communi∣cate to us; we daily see nevertheless, that if she swerve never so little from the ordinary Path, and that she strays from, or wander out of the way, set out and beaten by the Church, how soon she loses, confounds and fetters her self, tumbling and floating in this vast, turbu∣lent and waving Sea of Human Opinions, with∣out restraint, and without any determinate end. So soon as she loses that Great and Common Road, she enters into a Labyrinth of a thousand several Paths. Man cannot be any thing but what he is, nor imagine beyond the reach of his Capacity: 'Tis a greater Presumption, says Plutarch, in them who are but Men, to attempt to speak and discourse of the Gods and Demi-Gods, than it is in a Man, utterly ignorant of Musick, to judge of Singing; or in a Man who never saw a Camp, to dispute about Arms and Martial Affairs, presuming by some light Con∣jecture to understand the effects of an Art he is totally a Stranger to. Antiquity, I believe, thought to put a Complement upon, and to add something

to the Divine Grandeur, in assimilating it to Man, investing it with his Faculties, and adorn∣ing it with his ugly Humors, and more shame∣ful Necessities: Offering it our Aliments to eat, presenting it with our Dances, Masquerades and Farces to divert it; with our Vestments to cover it, and our Houses to inhabit, caressing it with the Odors of Incense, and the Sounds of Musick, Festons and Nosegayes: And to accommodate it to our vicious Passions, flattering his Justice with inhuman Vengeance, that is delighted with the Ruin and Dissipation of things by it created and preserv'd: As Tiberius Sempronius, who burnt the rich Spoils and Arms he had gained from the Enemy in Sardignia, fer a Sacrifice to Vul∣can: And Paulus Emylius, those of Macedonia to Mars and Minerva: And Alexander arriving at the Indian Ocean, threw several great Vessels of Gold into the Sea, in Favour of Thetis; and moreover loading her Altars with a slaughter, not of innocent Beasts only, but of Men also; as several Nations, and ours amongst the rest, were ordinarily used to do: And I believe there is no Nation under the Sun, that has not done the same.

—Sulmone creatos* 1.334 Quatuor hic juvenes, totidem quos educat Vfens Viventes rapit, inferias quos immolet umbris.

At Sulmo born he took of young Men four; Of those at Vfens bred, as many more, Of these alive, in most inhuman wise, To offer an infernal Sacrifice.

The Getes hold themselves to be Immortal, and that their Death is nothing but a Journey to∣wards Zamolxis, Once in five Years they dis∣patch some one amongst them to him,* 1.335 to en∣treat of him such Necessaries as they stand in need of: Which Envoy is chosen by Lot, and the form of his Dispatch, after having been in∣structed by Word of Mouth what he is to deli∣ver, is, that of the Assistants, three hold out so many Javelins, against which the rest throw his Body with all their Force. If he happen to be wounded in a mortal Part, and that he imme∣diately dye, 'tis reputed a certain Argument of Divine Favor; but if he escape, he is look'd up∣on as a wicked and execrable Wretch, and ano∣ther is dismist after the same manner, in his stead.* 1.336 Amestris, the Mother of Xerxes, being grown old, caus'd at once fourteen young Men, of the best Families of Persia, to be buried alive, according to the Religion of the Country, to gratify some infernal Deity. And yet to this Day, the Idols of Temixtitan are cemented with the Blood of little Children, and they delight in no Sacrifice, but of these pure and infantine Souls; a Justice thirsty of innocent Blood.

* 1.337Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum.

Such impious Use was of Religion made, So many Ills and Mischiefs to persuade.

The Carthaginians immolated their own Chil∣dren to Saturn;* 1.338 and who had none of their own,

bought of others, the Father and Mother being in the mean time obliged to assist at the Cere∣mony, with a gay and contented Countenance. It was a strange Fancy, to gratify the Divine Bounty with our Affliction; like the Lacedemo∣nians, who regal'd their Diana with the torment∣ing of young Boys, which they caus'd to be whip'd for her Sake, very often to Death. It was a savage Humor, to think to gratify the Ar∣chitect by the Subversion of his Building, and to think to take away the Punishment due to the Guilty, by punishing the Innocent: And that poor Iphigenia, at the Port of Aulis, should by her Death and being Sacrific'd, acquit to∣wards God the whole Army of the Greeks, from all the Crimes they had committed:

Et casta incestè nubendi tempore in ipso* 1.339 Hostia concideret mactatu maesta parentis.

And that the chast, should in her nuptial Band, Dye by a most unnatural Fathers Hand.

And that the two noble and generous Souls of the two Decii the Father and the Son, to encline the Favour of the Gods to be propitious to the Affairs of Rome, should throw themselves head∣long into the thickest of the Enemy.* 1.340 Quae fuit tanta Deorum iniquitas, ut placari populo Romano non possent, nisi tales viri occidissent? How great an Injustice in the Gods was that, that they could not be reconcil'd to the People of Rome, unless such Men perished? To which may be added,

that it is not in the Criminal to cause himself to be scourg'd according to his own Measure, nor at his own time; but that it purely belongs to the Judg; who considers nothing as Chastise∣ments, but the Penalty that he appoints; and cannot call that Punishment, which proceeds from the Consent of him that suffers. The Di∣vine Vengeance presupposes an absolute Dissent in us, both from its Justice, and our own Pe∣nalty. And therefore it was a ridiculous Hu∣mor of Polycrates the Tyrant of Samos, who, to interrupt the continued Course of his good Fortune, and to ballance it, went and threw the dearest and most precious Jewel he had into the Sea; beleiving that by this voluntary and antedated Mishap, he brib'd and satisfied the Revolution and Vicissitude of Fortune; and she, to delude his Folly, ordered it so, that the same Jewel came again into his Hands, found in the Belly of a Fish. And then to what end are those Tearings and Demembrations of the Co∣rybantes, the Menades▪ and in our times of the Mahometans, who slash their Faces, Bosoms, and their Limbs, to gratify their Prophet: Seeing that the Offence lies in the Will, not in the Breast, Eyes, Genitories, in the Beauty, the Shoulders, or the Throat? Tantus est perturbatae mentis, & sedibus suis pulsae,* 1.341 furor, ut sic dii placentur, quem∣admodum ne homines quidem saeviunt. So great is the Fury and Madness of troubled Minds, when once displac'd from the Seat of Reason: As if the Gods should be appeas'd, with what even Men are not so mad as to approve. The use of this natu∣ral

Contexture has not only respect to us, but also to the Service of God, and other Men. And 'tis unjust, willingly to wound or hurt it; as to kill our selves upon any Pretence whatever. It seems to be great Cowardize and Treason to exercise Cruelty upon, and to destroy the Functi∣ons of the Body, that are stupid and servile, to spare the Soul the Solicitude of Governing them according to Reason. Vbi iratos Deos timent, qui sic propitios habere merentur. In regiae libidinis voluptatem castrati sunt quidam, sed nemo sibi, ne vir esset, jubente Domino, manus intulit. Where are they, so afraid of the anger of the Gods, as to merit their Favour at that rate? Some indeed have been made Eunuchs for the Lust of Princes: But no Man at his Masters Command, has put his own Hand to unman himself: So did they fill their Religion with several ill Effects.

—saepius olim Religio peperit scelerosa, atque impia facta.* 1.342

—In elder times Religion did commit notorious Crimes.

Now nothing of ours can in any sort be com∣pared, or likened unto the Divine Nature, which will not blemish and smut it with so much Im∣perfection. How can that infinite Beauty, Pow∣er and Bounty, admit of any Correspondence, or Similitude, to so abject things as we are, with∣out extream Wrong, and manifest Dishonor to his Divine Greatness? Infirmum Dei fortius est

hominibus:* 1.343 Et stultum Dei sapientius est homini∣bus. For the Foolishness of God is wiser than Men, and the Weakness of God is stronger than Men. Stilpo the Philosopher being ask'd, whether the Gods were delighted with our Adorations and Sacrifices: You are Indiscreet, answered he, let us withdraw apart, if you talk of such things. Ne∣vertheless we prescribe him Bounds, we keep his Power besieg'd by our Reasons, (I call our Ra∣vings and Dreams Reason, with the Dispensation of Philosophy, which says, that the wicked Man, and even the Fool, go Mad by Reason; but by a particular form of Reason.) We will subject him to the feeble Apparences of our Understanding; him, who has made both us and our Know∣ledg. Because that nothing is made of nothing, God therefore could not make the World with∣out Matter. What, has God put into our Hands the Keys and most secret Springs of his Provi∣dence? Is he oblig'd not to exceed the Limits of our Knowledg? Put the Case, O Man, that thou hast been able here to mark some Foot∣steps of his Effects: Dost thou therefore think that he has employed all he can, and has crowd∣ed all his Forms and Idea's in this Work? Thou seest nothing but the Order and Revolution of this little Vault, under which thou art lodged, if thou dost see so much: Whereas his Divinity has an infinite Jurisdiction beyond: This Part is nothing in Comparison of the Whole.

* 1.344—omnia cum caelo, terráque marique Nil sunt ad summam summai totius omnem.

All things, both Heaven, Earth, and Sea, do fall Short in the Account with the great All of All.

'Tis a municipal Law that thou alledgest, thou knowest not what is Universal. Tye thyself to that to which thou art subject, but not him; he is not of thy Brotherhood, thy Fellow-Citizen, or Companion: If he has in some sort commu∣nicated himself unto thee; 'tis not to debase him∣self to thy littleness, nor to make thee Comp∣troler of his Power. A human Body cannot fly to the Clouds: 'Tis for thee, the Sun runs every day his ordinary Course: The Bounds of the Seas and the Earth cannot be confounded: The Water is Unstable and without Firmness: A Wall, unless it be broken, is impenetrable to a solid Body: A man cannot preserve his Life in the Flames; he cannot be both in Heaven and upon Earth, and corporally in a thousand places at once. 'Tis for thee, that he has made these Rules; 'tis thee, that they concern. He has ma∣nifested to Christians, that he has enfranchis'd them all when it pleased him. And in truth why, Almighty as he is, should he have limited his Power within any certain Bounds? In favour of whom should he have renounced his Privilege? Thy Reason has in no other thing more of like∣lyhood and Foundation, than in that wherein it persuades thee that there is a plurality of Worlds.

Terramque & solem, lunam, mare, caetera quae sunt,* 1.345 Non esse unica sed numero magis innumerali.

That Earth, Sun, Moon, Sea, and the rest that are, Not single, but innumerable were.

The most eminent Wits of elder times believed it; and some of this Age of ours, compelled by the apparences of human Reason, do the same: Forasmuch as in this Fabrick, that we behold, there is nothing single and one,

* 1.346—cùm in summa res nulla sit una, Vnica quae gignatur: Et unica soláque crescat:

Since nothing's single in this mighty Mass, That can alone beget, alone encrease:

And that all the kinds are multiplied in some number: By which it seems not to be likely, that God should have made this Work only without a Companion: And that the Matter of this Form should have been totally drain'd in this sole Indi∣vidual.

* 1.347Quare etiam, atque etiam tales fateare necesse est, Esse alios alibi congressus materiai, Qualis hic est avido complexu quem tenet aether.

Wherefore 'tis necessary to confess, That there must elsewhere be the like congress Of the like matter, which the airy space Conteins & holds with a most strict Embrace.

Especially if it be a living Creature, which its

motions renders so credible, that Plato affirms it, and that many of our People do either confirm, or dare not deny: No more than that ancient Opi∣nion, that the Heaven, the Stars, and other Members of the World, are Creatures compos'd of Body and Soul: Mortal in respect of their Composition, but Immortal by the determina∣tion of the Creator. Now if there be many Worlds, as Democritus, Epicurus, and almost all Philosophy has believ'd, what do we know but that the Principles and Rules of this of ours, may in like manner concern the rest? They may perad∣venture have another Form, and another Poli∣cy. Epicurus supposes them either like or un∣like. We see in this World an infinite difference and variety, only by distance of Places. Nei∣ther the Corn, Wine, nor any of our Animals are to be seen in that new corner of the World discovered by our Fathers, 'tis all there another thing. And in times past, do but consider in how many parts of the World they had no Knowledg either of Bacchus or Ceres. If Pliny and Herodotus are to be believed, there are in certain Places a kind of Men very little resem∣bling us. And there are mungrel and ambiguous Forms, betwixt the human and brutal Natures. There are Countries, where men are born with∣out Heads, having their Mouth and Eyes in their Breast: Where they are all Hermaphodrites; where they go on all four; where they have but one Eye in the Forehead, and a Head more like a Dog than one of us: Where they are half Fish, the lower part, and live in the Water: Where

the Women bear at five years old, and live but eight: Where the Head and Skin of the Fore∣head is so hard, that a Sword will not touch it, but rebounds again: Where Men have no Beards: Nations that know not the use of Fire, and o∣thers that eject Seed of a black Colour. What shall we say of those that naturally change them∣selves into Woolves, Colts, and then into men again? And if it be true as Plutarch says, that in some place of the Indies, there are men with∣out Mouths, who nourish themselves with the smell of certain Odours, how many of our De∣scriptions are false? He is no more risible nor peradventure, capable of Reason and Society: The disposition and cause of our internal Com∣position would then for the most part be to no purpose, nor of no use; moreover how many things are there in our own Knowledg, that oppose those fine Rules we have cut out for, and prescribed to Nature? And yet we must un∣dertake to circumscribe God himself! How ma∣ny things do we call miraculous and contrary to Nature? This is done by every Nation, and by every Man, according to the Proportion of his Ignorance. How many occult Properties and Quintessences do we daily discover? For, for us to go according to Nature, is no more but to go according to our Intelligence, as far as that is able to follow, and as far as we are able to see into it: All beyond that must be monstrous and irregular. Now by this Account, all things shall be monstrous to the wisest and most under∣standing men; for human Reason has persuaded

them, that there was no manner of Ground or Foundation, not so much as to be assured that Snow is white; and Anaxagoras affirm'd it to be black: If there be any thing, or if there be no∣thing: If there be Knowledg or Ignorance; which Metrodorus Chius denied that Man was a∣ble to determine: Or whether we live, as Eu∣ripides doubts, whether the Life we live is Life, or whether that we call Death be not Life:

Who knows if Life been't that which we call Death, And Death the thing that we call Life.

And not without some apparence. For why do we from this Instant derive the Title of Being, which is but a Flash in the infinite Course of an eternal Night, and so short an Interruption of our perpetual and natural Condition? Death possessing all that past before, and all the future of this moment, and also a good part of the mo∣ment it self. Others swear there is no motion at all, as the Followers of Melissus,* 1.348 and that no∣thing stirs. For if there be but one, neither can that Spherical Motion be of any use to him, nor the Motion from one place to another, as Plato proves, That there is neither Generation nor Corruption in Nature. Protagoras says, That there is nothing in Nature but Doubt: That a man may equally dispute of all things; and even of this, whether a man can equally dispute of all things: Mansiphanes, that of things which seem to be, nothing is, more than it is not. That there is nothing certain, but incertainty. Par∣menides,

that of that which seems, there is no one thing in general. That there is but one thing. Zeno, that one same is not; and that there is nothing. If there were one thing, it would either be in another, or in it self. If it be in another, they are two: If it be in it self, they are yet two; the comprehending, and the com∣prehended. According to these Doctrines the Nature of things, is no other than a Shadow, either false or vain. This way of speaking in a Christian Man, has ever seem'd to me very In∣discreet and Irreverent. God cannot dye; God cannot contradict himself; God cannot do this, or that, I do not like to have the divine Power so limited by the Laws of Mens Mouths. And the apparence which presents itself to us in those Propositions, ought to be more religiously and reverently expressed. Our speaking has its Fail∣ings and Defects, as well as all the rest. Gram∣mar is that which creates most Disturbance in the World. Our Suits only spring from the Debate of the interpretation of Laws: And most Wars proceed from the Inability of Ministers, clearly to express the Conventions and Treaties of Amity of Princes. How many Quarrels, and of how great Importance, has the doubt of the meaning of this Sillable Hoc created in the World? Let us take the clearest Conclusion that Logick it self presents us with. If you say it is fair, and that you say true, it is then fair Wea∣ther. Is not this a very certain form of speaking? And yet it will deceive us: That it will do so, let us follow the Example. If you say you lye,

and that you say true, then you do lye. The Art, the Reason, and Force of the Conclusion of this, are the same with the other, and yet we are gravelled. The Pyrrhonian Philosophers, I discern, cannot express their general Conception in any kind of speaking: For the World requires a new Language on purpose. Ours is all form'd of affirmative Propositions, which are totally an∣tartick to them. Insomuch that when they say I doubt, they are presently taken by the Throat, to make them confess, that at least they know, and are assur'd that they do doubt. By which means they have been compelled to shel∣ter themselves under this medicinal Comparison, without which, their Humor would be inexpli∣cable. When they pronounce, I know not: Or, I doubt; they say, that this Proposition carries off it self with the rest, no more, nor less than Rubarb, that drives out the ill Humors, and car∣ries it self off with them. This Fancy will be more certainly understood by Interrogation: What do I know? (as I bear it in the Emblem of a Ballance.) See what use they make of this irreverend way of speaking. In the present Dis∣putes about our Religion, if you press the Ad∣versaries to it too hard, they will roundly tell you, that it is not in the Power of God, to make it so, that his Body should be in Paradice and up∣on Earth, and in several Places at once. And see what Advantage the old Scoffer makes of this? At least, says he, it is no little Consolation to Man, to see that God cannot do all things: For he cannot kill himself, though he would; which is

the greatest Privilege we have in our Condition: He cannot make Mortals Immortal, nor revive the Dead: Nor make it so, that he who has lived, has not; nor that he, who has had Honours, has not had them, having no other right to the past, than that of Oblivion. And that the Comparison of a Man to God may yet be made out by pleasant Ex∣amples, he cannot order it so, he says, that twice ten shall not be twenty. This is what he says, and what a Christian ought to take heed shall not escape his Lips. Whereas on the contrary, it seems, as if all Men studied this impudent kind of blasphemous Language, to reduce God to their own measure.

—cras vel atra * 1.349Nube polum pater occupato, Vel sole puro non tamen irritum Quodcumque retro est efficiet, neque Diffinget infectumque reddet Quod fugiens semel hora vexit.

To morrow let it shine, or rain, * 1.350Yet cannot this the past make vain: Nor uncreate and render void, That which was yesterday enjoy'd.

When we say, that the infinity of Ages, as well past as to come, are but one Instant with God: That his Bounty, Wisdom and Power are the same with his Essence: Our Mouths speak it, but our Understandings apprehend it not. And yet such is our vain Opinion of our selves, that we must make the Divinity to pass through our Seive: And from thence proceed all the Dreams and Errors with which the World abounds,

whilst we reduce and weigh in our Ballance a thing so far above our Poize.* 1.351 Mirum quò proce∣dat improbitas cordis humani, parvulo aliquo invi∣tata successu. 'Tis a wonder to what the wicked∣ness of Mans Heart will proceed, if elevated with the least Success. How magisterially and inso∣lently does Epicurus reprove the Stoicks from maintaining that the truly good and happy Be∣ing appertain'd only to God, and that the wise Man had nothing but a shadow and resemblance of it? How temerariously have they bound God by Destiny, (a thing, that, by my consent, none that bears the Name of a Christian shall ever do again) and both Thales, Plato, and Pythagoras have enslav'd him to Necessity. This Arrogan∣cy of attempting to discover God with our weak Eyes, has been the Cause that an eminent Per∣son of our Nation, has attributed to the Divini∣ty a corporal Form; and is the reason of what happens amongst us every day, of attributing to God important Events, by a particular Assig∣nation: Because they sway with us, they con∣clude that they also sway with him, and that he has a more intent and vigilant Regard to them, than to others of less Moment, or of ordinary Course. Magna Dii curant, parva negligunt.* 1.352 The Gods are concerned at great matters, but slight the small. Observe his Example, he will clear this to you by his Reason: Nec in regnis quidem Reges omnia curant. Neither indeed do Kings in their Administration take notice of all the least Concerns. As if to that King of Kings it were more and less to subvert a Kingdom, or to move

the Leaf of a Tree: Or as if his Providence acted after another manner in enclining the Event of a Battle, than in the leap of a Flea. The hand of his Government is laid upon every thing af∣ter the same manner, with the same Power and Order: Our Interest does nothing towards it; our Inclinations and Measures sway nothing with him. Deus ita artifex magnus in magnis, ut minor non sit in parvis. God is so great an Ar∣tificer in great things, that he is no less in the least. Our Arrogancy sets this blasphemous Compari∣son ever before us. Because our Enployments are a Burthen to us, Strato has curteously been pleased to exempt the Gods from all Offices, as their Pirests are. He makes Nature produce and support all things; and with her Weights and Motions makes up the several parts of the World▪ discharging human Nature from the awe of divine Judgments.* 1.353 Quod beatum, aeter∣numque sit, id nec habere negotii quicquam, nec ex∣hibere alteri. What is Blessed and Eternal, has neither any Business it self, nor gives any to ano∣ther. Nature will that in like things there should be a like Relation. The infinite number of Mor∣tals, therefore, concludes a like number of Im∣mortals; the infinite things that kill and destroy, presuppose as many that preserve and profit. As the Souls of the Gods without Tongue, Eyes, or Ear, do every one of them feel amongst them∣selves, what the other feel, and judg our Thoughts. So the Souls of Men, when at li∣berty, and loosed from the Body, either by Sleep, ore some Extasie, divine, foretel, and see things,

which whilst join'd to the Body they could not see.* 1.354 Men (says St. Paul) professing themselves to be wise, they became Fools; and changed the Glory of uncorruptible God, into an Image made like corruptible Man. Do but take notice of the jugling in the Ancient Deifications. After the great and stately Pomp of the Funeral, so soon as the Fire began to mount to the top of the Pyramid, and to catch hold of the Hearse where the Body lay, they at the same time turn'd out an Eagle, which flying upward, signified that the Soul went into Paradice. We have yet a thousand Medals, and particularly of that ver∣tuous Fostina, where this Eagle is represented carrying these deified Souls with their Heels up∣wards, towards Heaven. 'Tis pity that we should fool our selves with our own Fopperies and Inventions,

Quod finxere timent.* 1.355

Like Children who are frighted with the same Face of their Play-fellow, that they themselves had smear'd and smutted. Quasi quicquam infe∣licius sit homine, cui sua figmenta dominantur. As if any thing could be more unhappy than Man, who is insulted over by his own Imagination. 'Tis far from honoring who made us, to honor him that we have made. Augustus had more Temples than Jupiter, serv'd with as much Religion, and belief of Miracles: The Thracians, in return of the Benefits they had receiv'd from Agesilaus, coming to bring him word, that they had cano∣niz'd him: Has your Nation, said he to them, that Power to make Gods of whom they please?

Pray first deifie some one amongst your selves, and when I shall see what Advantage he has by it, I will thank you for your Offer. Man is certainly stark mad; he cannot make a Flea, and yet he will be making Gods by Dozens. Hear what Tris∣megestus says in praise of our Sufficiency: Of all the wonderful things, it surmounts all Wonder, that Man could find out the divine Nature and make it. And take here the Arguments of the School of Philosophy it self.

* 1.356Nosse cui Divos, & caeli numina, soli Aut soli nescire datum.

To whom to know the Deities of Heav'n, Or know he knows them not, alone 'tis given.

If there is a God, he is a living Creature; if he be a living Creature, he has some Sense; and if he has Sense, he is subject to Corruption. If he be without a Body, he is without a Soul, and consequently without Action: And if he has a Body, it is perishable. Is not here a Triumph? We are incapable of having made the World; there must then be some more excellent Nature, that has put a Hand to the Work. It were a foolish and ridiculous Arrogance, to esteem our selves the most perfect thing of the Vniverse. There must then be something that is better and more perfect, and that must be God. When you see a stately and stupendious Edifice, though you do not know who is the Owner of it, you would yet conclude it was not built for Rats. And this divine Structure that we behold of the Celestial Palace,* 1.357 have we not reason to beleive that it is the Residence of some Possessor, who is

much greater than we? Is not the most Supream always the most Worthy? And we are subject∣ed to him. Nothing without a Soul and with∣out Reason, can produce a living Creature ca∣pable of Reason. The World produces us, the World then has Soul and Reason. Every part of us is less than we. We are part of the World, the World therefore is endued with Wisdom and Reason, and that more abundantly than we. 'Tis a fine thing to have a great Government. * 1.358The Government of the World then appertains to some happy Nature. The Stars do us no harm, they are then full of Bounty. We have need of Nourishment, then so have the Gods al∣so, and feed upon the Vapours of the Earth. Wordly Goods are not Goods to God; there∣fore they are not Goods to us: Offending, and being Offended, are equally Testimonies of Im∣becillity: 'Tis therefore folly to fear God. God is good by his Nature; Man by his Industry, which is more. The divine and human Wis∣dom have no other Distinction, but that the first is Eternal. But Duration is no accession to Wis∣dom, therefore we are Companions. We have Life, Reason and Liberty; we esteem Bounty, Charity and Justice: These Qualities are in him. In conclusion, the building and destroying, and the conditions of the Divinity, are forg'd by Man according as they relate to himself. What a Pattern, and what a Model! let us stretch, let us raise and swell human Qualities as much as we please. Puff up thy self, vain Man, yet more and more, and more.

Non si te ruperis, inquit.

* 1.359Swell till thou burst, said he, Thou shalt not match the Deity.

Profectò non Deum, quem cogitare non possunt, sed semet ipsos pro illo cogitantes, non illum, sed seip∣sos, non illi, sed sibi comparant. Certainly they do not Imagine God, whom they cannot imagine; but they imagine themselves in his stead: They do not compare him, but themselves, not to him, but to themselves. In natural things the Effects do but half relate to their Causes. What's this to the Purpose? His Condition is above the order of Nature, too elevate, too remote, and too migh∣ty to permit himself to be bound and fettered by our Conclusions. 'Tis not through our selves, that we arrive at that place: Our ways lye too low. We are no nearer Heaven on the top of Mount Senis, than in the bottom of the Sea: Take the Distance with your Astrolable. They debate God even to the carnal Knowledg of Women, to so many times and so many Gene∣rations. Paulina the Wife of Saturninus, a Ma∣tron of great Reputation at Rome, thinking she lay with the God Serapis, found her self in the Arms of an Amoroso of hers, through the Pan∣darisme of the Priests of his Temple. Varro, the most subtile and most learn'd of all the latin Au∣thors, in his Book of Theologie writes, That the Secton of Hercules his Temple, throwing Dice with one hand for himself, and with the other for Hercules, plaid after that manner with him for a Supper and a Whore: If he won, at the expence of the Offerings; if he lost, at his own.

The Sexton lost, and paid the Supper and the Whore. Her Name was Laurentina, who saw by night this God in her Arms; who moreover told her that the first she met the next Day, should give her a heavenly Reward: Which prov'd to be Taruncius, a rich young Man, who took her home to his House, and in time left her his Inheritrix. She on the other side, think∣ing to do a thing that would be pleasing to this God, left the people of Rome Heir to her; and therefore had divine Honours attributed to her. As if it had not been sufficient that Plato was o∣riginally descended from the Gods by a double Line, and that he had Neptune for the common Father of his Race: It was certainly believ'd at Athens, that Aristo having a mind to enjoy the fair Perictione, could not, and was warn'd by the God Apollo, in a Dream, to leave her unpol∣luted and untouch'd, till she should first be brought to Bed. These were the Father and Mother of Plato. How many ridiculous Sto∣ries are of like Cuckoldings commited by the Gods against poor mortal Men? And how many Husbands injuriously scandall'd in favour of their Children? In the Mahometan Religion, there are enow Merlins found by the Belief of the People, that is to say, Children without Fathers, spiri∣tual, divinely conceiv'd in the Wombs of Vir∣gins, and carry Names that signify so much in their Language. We are to observe, that to eve∣ry thing, nothing is more dear and estimable than its being (the Lyon, the Eagle and the Dolphin, prize nothing above their own Kind)

and that every thing assimilates the Qualities of all other things to its own proper Qualities, which we may indeed extend or contract, but that's all; for beyond that Relation and Princi∣ple, our Imagination cannot go, can guess at nothing else, nor possibly go out thence, or stretch beyond it: From whence spring these ancient Conclusions. Of all Figures, the most beautiful is that of Man; therefore God must be of that Form. No one can be happy without Vertue, nor Vertue be without Reason, and Reason cannot inhabit any where but in a hu∣man Shape: God is therefore cloathed in a hu∣man Figure. Ita est informatum, anticipatum∣que mentibus nostris,* 1.360 ut homini, quum de Deo cogi∣tet, forma occurrat humana. It is so imprinted in our Minds, and the Fancy is so prepossess'd with it, that when a Man thinks of God, a human Figure ever presents it self to the Imagination. There∣fore it was, that Xenophanes pleasantly said, That if Beasts do frame any Gods to themselves, as 'tis likely they do, they make them certainly such as themselves are, and glorify themselves in it, as we do. For why may not a Goose say thus, All the part of the Universe I have an Interest in, the Earth serves me to walk upon, the Sun to light me, the Stars have their Influence upon me: I have such Advantage by the Winds, and such Conveniencies by the VVaters: There is no∣thing that yond heavenly Roof looks upon so favourably as me; I am the Darling of Nature? Is it not Man that treats, lodges, and serves me? 'Tis for me that he both sows and grinds: If he

eates me, he does the same by his fellow Man, and so do I the VVorms that kill•• and devour him. As much might be said by a Crane and with greater Confidence, upon the account of the liberty of his Flight, and the Possession of that high and beautiful Region. Tam bl••nda conciliatrix, & tam sui est lena ipsa natura.* 1.361 So flattering and wheedling a Baud is Nature to her∣self. Now by the same Consequence the De∣stinies are then for us; for us the VVorld, it shines, it thunders for us, and the Creator and Creatures are all for us. 'Tis the Mark and Point to which the Universality of things does aime. Look into the Records that Philosophy has kept, for two thousand Years and more, of the Affairs of Heaven: The Gods all that while have neither acted nor spoken but for Man: She does not allow them any other Consultation or Vacation. See them here against us in VVar.

—Domitósque Herculea manu Telluris juvenes, unde periculum* 1.362 Fulgens contremuit domus Saturni veteris—

The brawny Sons of Earth, subdu'd by hand Of Hercules, on the Phlegraean Strand, Where the rude Shock did such a rattle make, As made old Saturn's sparkling Palace shake.

And here you shall see them participate of our Troubles, to make a return for our having so often shared in theirs.

Neptunus muros magnoque emota tridenti Fundamenta quatit, totámque à sedibus urbem* 1.363 Eruit: hic Juno scaeas saevissima portas Prima tenet.—

Whilst Neptune with his massy Trident strake, He made the VValls of the Foundations shake, And the whole City from its Platform thr••w; Here, to befriend the Greeks, fair Juno drew Into the Scaean Ports.—

The Caunians, jealous of the Authority of their own peculiar Gods, arme themselves on the Days of their Devotion, and the whole Power of their Precincts run cutting and slashing the Air with their Swords, by that means to drive away and banish all forreign Gods out of their Territory. Their Powers are limited accord∣ing to our Necessity. That cures Horses, that cures Men, that cures the Plague, the Scurf, the Tissick; one to cure one sort of Itch, another another: Adeo minimis etiam rebus prava Reli∣gio insertit Deos:* 1.364 At such a rate does false Re∣ligion create Gods for the most contemptible Vses: That makes the Grapes to grow, the VVaters to flow. That has the Presidence over Letch∣ery, the Superintendency over Merchandize; for every sort of Artizan a God: That has his Pro∣vince and Reputation in the East, and that has his in the West.

* 1.365Hic illius arma. —Hic currus fuit.

Here she her Arms, here she her Charriot had.

* 1.366O sancte Apollo, qui umbilicum certum terrarum obtinens:

O sacred Phaebus who with glorious Ray, Over the Navel of the Earth dost sway.

* 1.367Pallada Cecropdae, Minoia Creta Dianam. Vulcanum tellus Hipsipylaea colit.

Junonem spartae, Pelopeiadesque Mycenae, Pinnigerum Fauni maenalis ora caput. Mars Latio venerandus.

Th' Athenians Pallas, Cynthia, Creete adore. Vulcan is worship'd on the Lemnian Shoar. Proud Juno's Altars are by Spartans fed, Th' Arcadians worship Faunus; and 'tis said That Mars at Latium is ador'd.

That has only one Town, or one Family in his Possession: That lives alone, or in company, either Voluntary, or upon Necessity.

Juntáque sunt magno templa ne potis avo.* 1.368

And Temples to the Nephew joined are, To those were rear'd to the Great-Grandfa∣ther.

There are some so wretched and mean (for the Number amounts to six and thirty Thousand) that they must pack five or six together, to pro∣duce one Ear of Corn, and thence take their se∣veral Names. Three to a Door: That of the Plank, that of the Hing, and that of the Threshold. Four to a Child; Protectors of his swathing Clouts, his Drink, Meat and Sucking. Some certain, some uncertain and doubtful, and some that are not yet entered Paradice.

Quos, quoniam Caeli nondum dignamur honore,* 1.369 Quas dedimus certé terras habitare sinamus.

Whom, since we yet not worthy think of Heaven, VVe suffer to inhabit the Earth we've given.

There are amongst them Physitians, Poets and Civilians. Some mean ones, betwixt the di∣vine and human Nature, Mediators betwixt

God and us: Adored with a certain second and diminutive sort of Adoration: Those are infi∣nite in Titles and Offices: Some good and o∣thers ill, some old and decrepit, and some that are mortal. For Chrysippus was of Opinion, that in the last Conflagration of the VVorld, all the Gods were to dye but Jupiter: Man makes a thousand pretty Societies betwixt God and him. Is he not his Countryman?

* 1.370Jovis incunabula Creten.

And this is the Excuse, that upon considera∣tion of this Subject, Scaevola a High Priest, and Varro a great Divine in their times, make us: That it is necessary the People should be igno∣rant of many things that are true, and believe many things that are false.* 1.371 Quum veritatem, qua liberetur, inquirat: credatur ei expedire, quod fallitur. Seeing he enquires into the Truth, by which he would be made free, 'tis thought fit he should be deceived. Human Eyes cannot per∣ceive things, but by the Formes they know. And we do not remember what a leap miserable Phaeton took, for attempting to govern the Reines of his Fathers Horses with a mortal Hand. The Mind of Man falls into as great a Profun∣dity, and is after the same manner bruised and shattered by its own Temerity. If you ask Phi∣losophy, of what matter the Sun is, what An∣swer will she return, if not, that it is of Iron and Stone, or some other Matter that she makes use of? If a Man enquire of Zeno, what Nature is? A Fire, says he, an Artisan proper for Ge∣neration, and regularly proceeding. Archime∣des,

Master of that Science, which attributes to it self the Precedency before all others, for Truth and Certainty. The Sun, says he, is a God of red-hot Iron. VVas not this a fine Ima∣gination extracted from the inevitable Necessi∣ty of Geometrical Demonstrations? Yet not so inevitable and utile, but that Socrates thought it was enough to know so much of Geometry only,* 1.372 as to measure the Land a man bought or sould; and that Polyaenus, who had been a great and famous Master in it, despised it, as full of Falsity and manifest Vanity, after he had once tasted the delicate Fruits of the Garden of Epi∣curus. Socrates in Xenophon, concerning this Affair, says of Anaxagoras, reputed by Anti∣quity learn'd above all others in celestial and di∣vine Matters, that he had crack'd his Brain, as all other men do, who too immoderately search into Knowledges, which nothing appertain un∣to them. VVhen he made the Sun to be a burning Stone, he did not consider, that a Stone does not shine in the Fire; and which is worse, that it will there consume. And in making the Sun and Fire one, that Fire does not turn Com∣plexions black in shining upon them: That we are able to look fixtly upon Fire: And that Fire kills Herbs and Plants. 'Tis Socrates his Opi∣nion, and mine too, that it is the best Judg of Heaven, not to judg of it at all. Plato, having occasion in his Timeus to speak of Daemons: This Undertaking, says he, exceeds my Ability. VVe are therefore to believe those Ancients, who have pretended to have been begotten by them.

'Tis against all Reason to refuse to a mans Faith to the Children of the Gods, though what they say should not be proved by any necessary or very probable Reasons; seeing they engage to speak of Domestick and Familiar things. Let us see if we have a little more light in the Knowledg of human and natural Things. Is it not a ridi∣culous Attempt, for us to forge for those, to whom by our own Confession, our Knowledg is not able to attain, another Body, and to lend a false Form of our own Invention: As is mani∣fest in this motion of the Planets; to which, seeing our VVits cannot possibly arrive, nor con∣ceive their natural Conduct, we lend them ma∣terial, heavy and substantial Springs of our own, by which to move?

* 1.373—Temo aureus, aurea summae Curvatura rotae, radiorum argenteus ordo.

A golden Beam, VVheels tir'd with golden Stroaks, About the Ring, with sets of silver Spokes.

You would say, that we had had Coach-mak∣ers, Wheele-wrights and Painters, that went up on high to make Engines of various Motions, and to range the Carriages and Interlacings of the heavenly Bodies of differing Colours about the Axis of Necessity, according to Plato.

* 1.374Mundus domus est maxima rerum, Quam quinque altitonae fragmine Zonae Cingunt, per quam limbus pictus bis sex signis Stellimicantibus, altus in obliquo aethere, lunae Bigas acceptat.—

The VVorlds a Mansion that doth all things hold, VVhich thundring Zones in number five enfold, Through which a Girdle painted with twelve Signs, And that with sparkling Constellations shines, In th'oblique Roof, marks the Diurnal Course, For the Suns Chariot, and his fiery Horse.

These are all Dreams and fantastick Follies. Why will not Nature please once for all to lay open her Bosom to us, and plainly discover to us the Means and Conduct of her Movements, and prepare our Eyes to see them? Good God, What Abuse, What Mistakes should we discover in our poor Science! I am mistaken, if that weak Knowledge of ours hold any one thing, as it really is, and I shall depart hence more ig∣norant of all other things than my own Igno∣rance. Have I not read in Plato this Divine Saying, That, Nature is nothing but an aenigma∣tick Poesie? As if a Man might peradventure say, a vail'd and shady Picture, breaking out here and there with an infinite variety of false Lights to puzzle our Conjectures.* 1.375 Latent ista omnia crassis occultata & circumfusa tenebris: Vt nulla acies humani ingenii tanta sit, quae pene∣trare in Caelum, terram intrare possit. All those things lye conceal'd and involv'd in so caliginous an Obscurity; that no point of Human Wit can be so sharp, as to peirce Heaven, or penetrate the Earth. And certainly Philosophy is no other than a falsified Poesie. From whence do the

Ancient Writers extract their Authorities, but from the Poets? And the first of them were Poets themselves, and writ accordingly. Plato is but a Poet unript. All super-human Sciences make use of the Poetick Style. Just as Women make use of Teeth of Ivory, where the Natural are wanting, and instead of their true Com∣plexion, make one of some artificial Matter; as they stuff themselves with Cotton to appear plump, and in the sight of every one, paint, patch, and trick up themselves with an adulte∣rate and borrow'd Beauty: So does Science, (and even our Law it self has, they say, Legiti∣mate Fictions, whereon it builds the Truth of its Justice) she gives us in Presupposition, and for currant pay, things which themselves in∣form us were invented: For these Epicycles, Ex∣centricks and Concentricks, which Astology makes use of to carry on the Motions of the Stars, she gives us for the best she could contrive upon that Subject; as also in all the rest, Philosophy presents us, not that which really is, or what she does really believe, but what she has con∣triv'd with the greatest and most plausible like∣lihood of Truth, and the quaintest Invention. Plato upon the Discourse of the State of Human Bodies, and those of Beasts, I should, know that what I have said is truth, says he, had I the Confirmation of an Oracle: But this I will affirm, that, what I have said, is the most likely to be true of any thing, I could say. 'Tis not to Hea∣ven only that Art sends her Ropes, Engines and Wheels; let us consider a little what she

says of us our selves, and of our Contexture. There is not more Retrogradation, Trepidation, Accession, Recession, and Astonishment in the Stars and Celestial Bodys, than they have found out in this poor little Human Body. In earnest, they have very good reason upon that very account, to call it a little World, so many Tools and Parts have they imployed to erect and build it. To assist the Motions they see in Man, and the various Functions that we find in our selves, into how many parts have they divi∣ded the Soul? In how many places lodg'd it, in∣to how many Orders have they divided, and to how many Stories have they rais'd this poor Creature Man, besides those that are natural, and to be perceiv'd? And how many Offices and Vocations have they assign'd him? They make an Imaginary of a Publick thing. 'Tis a Subject that they hold and handle: And they have full power granted to them, to rip, place, displace, peice and stuff it every one according to his own Fancy, and yet they possess it not. They cannot, not in reality only, but even in Dreams, so govern it, that there will not be some Cadence or Sound that will escape their Architecture as enormous as it is, and botch'd with a thousand false and fantastick Patches▪ And it is not reason to excuse them; for though we are satisfied with Painters when they paint Heaven, Earth, Seas, Mountains and remote Islands, that they give us but some slight mark of them, and, as of things unknown, are con∣tent with a faint and obscure Description: Yet

when they come to draw us by the Life, or any other Creature which is known and fami∣liar to us, we then require of them a perfect and exact Representation of Lineaments and Co∣lours, and despise them if they fail in it. I am very well pleas'd with the Milesian Girl, who observing the Philosopher Thales to be always contemplating the Celestial Arch; and to save his Eyes still gazing upward, laid something in his way that he might stumble at, to put him in mind, that it would be time to take up his Thoughts about things that are in the Clouds, when he had provided for those that were un∣der his Feet. Doubtless she advis'd him very well, rather to look to himself than to gaze at Heaven. For, as Democritus says, by the Mouth of Cicero,* 1.376 Quod est ante pedes, nemo spectat: Caeli scrutantur plagas. No Man regards what is under his Feet, they are always prying towards Heaven. But our condition will have it so, that the Knowledge of what we have in hand is as remote from us, and as much above the Clouds, as that of the Stars: As Socrates says in Plato, That, whoever tampers with Philosophy, may be reproach'd as Thales was by the Woman, that he sees nothing of that which is before him. For every Philosopher is ignorant of what his Neigh∣bour does: Yes, and of what he does himself, and is ignorant of what they both are, whether Beasts or Men. And these people who find Se∣bonde's Arguments too weak, that are ignorant of nothing, that govern the World, and that know all:

Quae mare compescant causae, quid temperet an∣num,* 1.377 Stellae sponte sua, jussaeve vagentur, & errent: Quid premat obscurum Lunae, quid proferat or∣bem, Quid velit, & possit rerum concordia discors,

What governs swelling Tides, what rules the Year. Whether of Force, or Will, the Planets err, What wax and wain to Cynthia's dark Orb brings, What the concording Discord of all things, Or would or can effect.

Have they not sometimes in their Writings scat∣ter'd the Difficulties they have met with of knowing their own Being: We see very well that the Finger moves, that the Foot moves, that some parts assume a voluntary Motion of themselves without our leaves and consent, and that others work by our direction; that one sort of apprehension occasions blushing; another, paleness, such an Imagination works upon the Spleen only, another upon the Brain, one oc∣casions Laughter, another Tears, another stu∣pifies and astonishes all our Senses; at one Ob∣ject the Stomach will rise, at another a Mem∣ber that lyes something lower. But how a Spi∣ritual Impression should make such a breach in∣to a massy and solid Subject, and the Nature of the Connexion and Contexture of these admi∣rable springs and movements never Man ye•• knew: Omnia incerta ratione,* 1.378 & in naturae maje∣state abdita. All uncertain in Reason, and con∣ceal'd

in the Majesty of Nature, says Pliny. And St. Austin,* 1.379 Modus, quo corporibus adhaerent Spi∣ritus, omnino mirus est, nec comprehendi ab ho∣mine potest: & hoc ipse homo est. The manner whereby Souls adhere to Rodies, is altogether won∣derful, and cannot be conceiv'd by Man, and yet this is Man. And yet it is not so much as doubted: For the Opinions of Men are receiv'd according to ancient Belief, by Authority and upon Trust, as if it were Religion and Law▪ 'Tis receiv'd as a Gibberish which is commonly spoken; this Truth with all its clutter of Argu∣ments and Proofs is admitted as a firm and solid Body, that is no more to be shaken, no more to be judg'd of. On the contrary, every one according to the utmost of his Talent, corrobo∣rates and fortifies this receiv'd Belief with the utmost power of his Reason, which is a supple Utensile, pliable and to be accommodated to any Figure. And thus the World comes to be fill'd with Lies and Fopperies. The reason that Men do not doubt of many things, is, that they never examine common Impressions; they do not dig to the Root, where the Faults and De∣fects lyes; they only debate upon the Branches: They do not examine whether such and such a thing be true, but if it has been so, and so un∣derstood. It is not inquir'd into, whether Galen has said any thing to purpose, but whether he has said so or so. In truth it was very good rea∣son, that this Curb to the Liberty of our Judg∣ments, and this Tyranny over our Opinions, ••••ould be extended to the Schools and Arts. The

God of Scholastick Knowledge is Aristotle: 'Tis Irreligion to question any of his Decrees, as it was those of Lycurgus at Sparta: His Do∣ctrine is a Magisterial Law, which peradventure is as false as another. I do not know, why I should not as willingly imbrace either the Ideas of Plato, or the Atoms of Epicurus, or the Ple∣num and Vacuum of Leucippus and Democritus, or the Water of Thales, or the Infinity of Nature of Anaximander, or the Air of Diogenes, or the Members and Symmetry of Pythagoras; or the Infinity of Parmenides: or the One of Musaeus, or the Water and Fire of Apollodorus, or the Similar Parts of Anaxagoras, or the Discord and Friendship of Empedocles, or the Fire of Hera∣clitus, or any other Opinion, (of that infinite Confusion of Opinions and Determinations, which this fine Human Reason does produce by its Certitude and Clear-sightedness in every thing it meddles withal) as I should the Opinion of Aristotle upon this Subject of the Principles of Natural things: Which Principles he builds of three pieces, Matter, Form and Privation. And what can be more vain, than to make Ina∣nity it self cause of the Production of things? Privation is a Negative: Of what Humour could he than make the Cause and Original of things that are: And yet that were not to be controverted, but for the exercise of Logick. There is nothing disputed neither to bring it into doubt, but to defend the Author of the School from Foreign Objections: His Autho∣rity is the non ultra, beyond which it is not per∣mitted

to inquire. It is very easie upon approv'd Foundations to build whatever we please; for according to the Law, and ordering of this be∣ginning, the other parts of the Structure are easily carried on without any failure. By this way we find our Reason well-grounded, and dis∣course at a venture; for our Masters prepossess and gain before hand as much room in our Be∣lief, as is necessary towards concluding after∣wards what they please: As Geometricians do by their granted Demands: The Consent and Approbation we allow them, giving them power to draw us to the Right and Left, and to whirle us about at their own pleasure. Whatever springs from these Presuppositions, is our Ma∣ster and our God: He will take the Level of his Foundations so ample and so easie, that by them he may mount us up to the Clouds, if he so please. In this Practice and Negotiation of Science we have taken the saying of Pythagoras, That every expert person ought to be believed in his own Art, for current pay. The Logician re∣fers the signification of words to the Grammarian, the Rhetorician borrows the State of Argu∣ments from the Logician: The Poet his mea∣sure from the Musician, the Geometrician his Pro∣portions from the Arithmetician, and the Meta∣physicians take Physical Conjectures from their Foundations. For every Science has its Princi∣ples presuppos'd, by which Human Judgment is everywhere limited. If you come to rush against the Bar where the principle Error lyes; they have presently this Sentence in their

Mouths, That there is no disputing with persons, who deny Principles. Now Men can have no Principles, if not reveal'd to them by the Divi∣nity, of all the rest the beginning, the middle and the end, is nothing but dream and vapour. To those that contend upon Presupposition, we must on the contrary presuppose to them the same Axiom upon which the dispute is. For every Human Presupposition and Declaration has as much Authority one as another, if rea∣son do not make the difference. Wherefore they are all to be put into the Ballance, and first the Generals, and those that tyrannize over us. The Persuasion of Certainty is a certain Testi∣mony of Folly and extream Incertainty; and there are not a more foolish sort of Men, nor that are less Philosophers, than the Philodoxes of Plato. We must inquire, whether Fire be hot, whether Snow be white, if there be any such things as hard or soft. And as to those Answers of which they make old Stories, as he that doubted if there were any such thing as heat, whom they bid throw himself into the Fire, and he that denyed the coldness of Ice, whom they bad to put a Cake of Ice into his Bosom, they are pitiful things unworthy of, and much be∣low the Profession of Philosophy. If they had let us alone in our Natural Being, to receive the appearance of things without us, according as they present themselves to us by our Senses; and had permitted us to follow our own Natural Appetites, and govern'd by the Condition of our Birth, they might then have reason to talk

at that rate; but 'tis from them, that we have learned to make our selves Judges of the World: 'Tis from them that we derive this Fancy, that Human Reason is Controller General of all that is without and within the Roof of Heaven, that comprehends every thing, that can do every thing: By the means of which, every thing is known and understood. This Answer would be good amongst Cannibals, who injoy the hap∣piness of a long, quiet and peaceable Life with∣out Aristotle's Precepts, and without the know∣ledge of the Name of Physicks. This Answer would peradventure be of more value, and grea∣ter force than all those they borrow from their Reason and Invention. Of this, all Animals, and all, where the power of the Law of Nature is yet pure and simple, but those they have re∣nounc'd, would be as capable as we. They need not tell us, it is true, for we see and feel it to be so: They must tell me whether I real∣ly feel what I think I do; and if I do feel it, they must then tell me why I feel it, and how, and what: Let them tell me the Name, Original, the Part and Junctures of Heat and Cold, the Qualities of the Agent and Patient: Or let them give up their Profession, which is not to admit or approve of any thing, but by the way of Reason, that is, their Test in all sorts of Essays. But certainly 'tis a Test full of Falsity, Error, Weakness and Defect. Which way can we better prove it, than by it self? If we are not to believe her when speaking of her self, she can hardly be thought fit to judge of

Exotick things; if she know any thing, it must at least be her own Being and Abode. She is in the Soul, and either a part or an effect of it: For true and essential Reason, from which we by a false Colour borrow the Name, is lodg'd in the Bosom of the Almighty. There is her Habitation and Recess, and 'tis from thence that she imparts her rays, when God is pleas'd to im∣part any beam of it to Mankind, as Pallas is∣sued from her Father's Head, to communicate her self to the World. Now let us see what Hu∣man Reason tells us of her self, and of the Soul: Not of the Soul in general, of which almost all Philosophy makes the Celestial and first Bodies Participants: Nor of that which Thales attri∣buted to things, which themselves are reputed inanimate, drawn on so to do by the Considera∣tion of the Load-stone: But of that which ap∣pertains to us, and that we ought the best to know,

Ignoratur enim quae sit natura animai,* 1.380 Nata sit, an contrà nascentibus insinuetur, Et simul intereat nobifcum morte dirempta, An tenebras Orci visat, vastásque lacunas An pecudes alias divinitus insinuet se.

For none the Nature of the Soul doth know, Whether that it be born with us, or no; Or be infus'd into us at our Birth, And dyes with us when we return to Earth, Or does descend to the black Shades below, Or into other Animals does go.

Crates and Dicaearchus were of Opinion, that there was no Soul at all; but that the Body

thus stirs by a Natural Motion: Plato, that it was a Substance moving of it self; Thales, a Na∣ture without repose: Asclepiades, an exercising of the Senses: Hesiod and Anaximander, a thing compos'd of Earth and Water: Parmenides, of Earth and Fire: Empedocles, of Blood:

* 1.381Sanguineam vomit ille animam.

He vomits up his bloody Soul.

Possidonius, Cleanthes and Galen, that it was heat, or a hot Complexion;

* 1.382Igneus est ollis vigor, & caelestis origo.

Their Vigour is of Fire, and does prove It self descended from the Gods above.

Hippocrates, a Spirit difus'd all over the Body: Varro, that it was an Air received at the Mouth, heated in the Lungs, moistned in the Heart, and diffus'd throughout the whole Body. Zeno, the Quintessence of the four Elements: Hera∣clitus Ponticus, that it was the Light: Xeno∣crates and the Egyptians, a Mobile Number: The Chaldaeans, a Vertue without any deter∣minate Form.

* 1.383Habitum quendam vitalem corporis esse, Harmoniam Graeci quam dicunt.

A vital Habit in Man's Frame to be, Which by the Greeks is call'd a Harmony.

Let us not forget Aristotle, who held the Soul to be that which naturally causes the Body to move, which he calls Entelechia, with as cold an Invention as any of the rest: For he neither speaks of the Essence, nor of the Original, nor of the Nature of the Soul, only takes notice of the Effect. Lactantius, Seneca, and most of the

Dogmatists, have confessed, that it was a thing they did not understand. And after all this enumeration of Opinions:* 1.384 Harum sententiarum quae vera fit, Deus aliquis viderit: Says Cicero: Of these Opinions, which is the true, let some God determine. I know by my self, says St. Bernard, how incomprehensible God is, seeing I cannot comprehend the part of my own being. Hera∣clitus, who was of Opinion, that every place was full of Souls and Daemons, did neverthe∣less maintain, that no one could advance so far towards the knowledge of his Soul, as ever to arrive at it, so profound was the Essence of it. Neither is there less controversie and debate about seating of it. Hippocrates and Hierophi∣lus place it in the Ventricle of the Brain: De∣mocritus and Aristotle throughout the whole Body:

Vt bona saepe valetudo cùm dicitur esse* 1.385 Corporis, & non est tamen haec pars ulla valentis.

As when the Bodies Health they do it call, When of a sound Man, that's no part at all.

Epicurus, in the Stomach;

Hic exultat enim pavor, ac metus, haec loca circùm Laetitiae mulcent.* 1.386

For this the Seat of Horror is and Fear, And Joys in turn do likewise triumph here.

The Stoicks, about and within the Heart: Era∣sistratus, adjoyning the Membrane of the Epi∣cranion: Empedocles, in the Blood, as also Moses, which was the reason why he interdicted eat∣ing the Blood of Beasts, because the Soul is their seated: Galen thought, that every part of the

Body had its Soul: Strato has plac'd its betwixt the Eye-brows:* 1.387 Qu•• facie quidem sit animus, aut ubi habitet, ne quaerendum quidem est: What Fi∣gure the Soul is of, or what part it inhabits, is not to be inquir'd into, says Cicero. I very willingly deliver this Author to you in his own words: For should I go about to alter Eloquence it self? Besides it were but an easie prize to steal the Matter of his Inventions. They are neither very frequent, nor of any great weight, and sufficiently known. But the reason why Chry∣sippus argues it to be about the Heart, as all the rest of that Sect do, is not to be omitted. It is, says he, because when we would affirm any thing, we lay our hand upon our Breasts: And when we will pronounce 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, which signifies I, we let the lower Mandable fall towards the Stomach. This place ought not to be over-slipt without a Remark upon the Vanity of so great a Man: For besides that these Considerations are infi∣nitely light in themselves, the last is only a a proof to the Greeks, that they have their Souls lodg'd in that part. No Human Judg∣ment is so spritely and vigilant, that it does not sometimes sleep. Why should we be afraid to speak? We see the Stoicks, who are the Fathers of Human Prudence, have found out, that the Soul of Man crushed under a ruin, does long labour and strive to get out, like a Mouse caught in a Trap, before it can disingage it self from the Burthen. Some hold, that the World was made to give Bodies, by way of Punish∣ment, to the Spirits fallen, by their own Fault,

from the Purity wherein they had been created: The first Creation having been no other than incorporeal: And that according as they are more or less deprav'd from their Spirituality, so are they, or more or less jocundly or dully in∣corporated. And that thence proceeds all the Variety of so much created Matter. But the Spirit that, for his Punishment, was invested with the Body of the Sun, must certainly have a very rare and particular Measure of Thirst. The extremities of our Perquisition do all fall into, and terminate in, Astonishment and Blindness. As Plutarch says of the Testimony of Histories; that, according to Charts and Maps, the utmost Bounds of known Countries are taken up with Marishes, impenetrable Forests, Desarts and un∣inhabitable places. And this is the reason why the most gross and childish Ravings were most found in those Authors who treat of the most elevated Subjects, and proceed the furthest in them: Losing themselves in their own Curiosity and Presumption. The beginning and end of Knowledge, are equally reputed Foolish. Ob∣serve to what a pitch Plato flyes in his Poetick Clouds: Do but take notice there of the Gib∣berish of the Gods. But what did he dream of when he defin'd a Man to be a two begg'd Ani∣mal without Feathers: Giving those who had a mind to deride him, a pleasant occasion? For having pull'd a Capon alive, they call'd it the Man of Plato. And what did the Epicureans think of, out of what simplicity did they first imagine, that their Atomes, that they said

were Bodies,* 1.388 having some weight and a natural motion downwards, had made the World: Till they were put in mind by their Adversaries, that, according to this Description, it was impos∣sible they should unite and joyn to one another, their fall being so direct and perpendicular▪ and many, so many parrallel Lines throughout? Wherefore there was a necessity that they should since add a fortuitous and side-ways motion, and that they should moreover accoutre their Atomes with hooked Tails, by which they might afterwards unite and cling to one another. And even then do not those that attack them upon this Second Invention, put them hardly to it? If the Atomes have by chance form'd so many sorts of Figures, why did it never fall out that they made a House or a Shoe? Why at the same rate should we not believe, that an infi∣nite Number of Greek Letters, strow'd all over a certain place, might possibly fall into the Con∣texture of the Iliad? VVhatever is capable of Reason, says Zeno, is better than that which is not capable: There is nothing better than the VVorld: The VVorld is therefore capable of Reason. Cotta, by this way of Argumentation, makes the VVorld a Mathematician: And 'tis also made a Musician and an Organist, by this other Argumentation of Zeno: The Whole is more than a Part; we are capable of VVisdom, and are part of the World: Therefore the World is wise. There are infinite like Exam∣ples, not only of Arguments that are false in themselves, but silly ones, that do not hold

in themselves, and that accuse their Authors not so much of Ignorance, as Impudence in the Reproaches, the Philosophers dash one another in the Teeth withal, upon the Dissentions in their Sects and Opinions. Whoever should bundle up a lusty Faggot of the Fooleries of Hu∣man Wisdom, would produce wonders. I wil∣lingly muster up these few for a Pattern, by a certain meaning not less profitable, than the most moderate Instructions. Let us judge by these, what Opinion we are to have of Man of his Sense and Reason; when in these great per∣sons, and that have raised Human Knowledge so high, so many gross and manifest Errors and Mistakes are to be found. For my part, I am apt to believe, that they have treated of Know∣ledge casually; and like a Toy, with both hands, and have contended about Reason, as of a vain and frivolous Instrument, setting on foot all sorts of Fancies and Inventions, sometimes more sinewy, and sometimes weaker. This same Plato, who defines Man, as if he were a Cock, says elsewhere, after Socrates, that he does not in truth, know what Man is, and that he is a Member of the World the hardest to under∣stand. By this variety and instability of Opi∣nions, they tacitly lead us, as it were, by the hand to this Resolution of their Irresolution. They profess not always to deliver their Opini∣ons bare-fac'd and apparent to us; they have one while disguis'd them in the fabulous Sha∣dows of Poesie, and another in some other Vizor: For our Imperfection carries this also along with

it, that crude Meats are not always proper for our Stomachs; they must dry, alter and mix them: They do the same: They oft conceal their real Opinions and Judgments, and falsifie them to accommodate themselves to the Publick Usance: They will not make an open Profes∣sion of Ignorance, and of the Imbecillity of Human Reason, that they may not fright Chil∣dren: But they sufficiently discover it to us un∣der the appearance of a troubled and inconstant Science. I advis'd a Person in Italy, who had a great mind to speak Italian, that provided he only had a desire to make himself understood, without being ambitious to excel, that he should only make use of the first words that came to the Tongues end, whether Latin, French, Spanish or Gascon, and that in adding the Italian Ter∣minations, he could not fail of hitting upon some Idiom of the Country either Thuscan, Ro∣man, Venetian, Piedmentois or Neapolitan, and to apply himself to some one of those many Forms. I say the same of Philosophy, she has so many Faces, so much Variety, and has said so many things, that all our Dreams and Ra∣vings are there to be found. Humane Fancy can conceive nothing good or bad that is not there:* 1.389 Nihil tam absurdè dici potest, quod non dicatur ab aliquo Philosophorum. Nothing can be so absurdly said, that has not been said before by some of the Philosophers. And I am the more willing to expose my Whimsies to the Publick: Forasmuch as, though they are spun out of my self, and without any Pattern, I know they will

be found related to some ancient Humour, and some will not stick to say, See, whence he took it: My Manners are Natural, I have not call'd in the assistance of any Discipline to erect them: But weak as they are, when it came into my head to lay them open to the Worlds view, and that to expose them to the Light in a little more decent Garb, I went about to adorn them with Reasons and Examples: It was a wonder to my self, accidentally to find them conforma∣ble to so many Philosophical Discourses and Ex∣amples. I never knew what Regiment my Life was of, till after it was near worn out and spent. A new Figure: An unpremeditate and accidental Philosopher. But to return to the Soul, in that Plato has plac'd the Reason in the Brain, the Anger in the Heart, and the Concu∣piscence in the Liver; 'tis likely that it was ra∣ther an Interpretation of the Movements of the Soul, than that he intended a Division and Se∣paration of it, as of a Body into several Mem∣bers: And the most likely of their Opinions is, that 'tis always a Soul, that by its Faculty, Rea∣sons, remembers, comprehends, judges, de∣sires and exercises all its other Operations by divers Instruments of the Body, as the Pilot guides his Ship according to his Experience, one while straining or slacking the Cordage, one while hoisting the Mainyard, or removing the Rudder, by one and the same strength carry∣ing on so many several effects: And that it is lodg'd in the Brain, which appears in that the Wounds and Accidents that touch that part, do

immediately offend the Faculties of the Soul: And 'tis not incongruous, that it should thence diffuse it self into the other parts of the Body:

* 1.390— medium non diserit unquam Caeli Phoebus iter radiis tamen omnia lustrat.

Phaebus ne're deviates from the Zodiack's way; Yet all things does illustrate with his Ray.

As the Sun sheds from Heaven's Light and In∣fluence, and fills the World with them.

* 1.391Caetera pars animae per totum dissita corpus Paret, & ad numen mentis, noménque movetur.

The other part o'th' Soul diffus'd all o're The Body, does obey the Reasons lore.

Some have said, that there was a General Soul, as it were a great Body, from whence all the parti∣cular Souls were extracted, and thither again return, always restoring it self to that Universal Matter.

—Deum namque ire per omnes * 1.392Terrásque tractusque maris, caelumque profundum: Hinc pecudes, armenta, viros, genus omne ferarum: Quemque sibi tenues nascentem arcessere vitas, Scilicet huc reddi deinde, ac resoluta referri Omnia: Nec morti esse locum:

—For they suppose That God through Earth, the Sea and Hea∣vens goes. Hence Men, Beasts, Reptiles, Insects, Fishes, Fouls Take all their issue to the Light, their Souls; And there again restore them when they dye, They being not subject to Mortality.

Others, that they only rejoyn'd and re-united

themselves to it, others that they were produc'd from the Divine Substance: Others by the An∣gels of Fire and Air: Others that they were from all Antiquity; and some that they were created at the very Article of time, the Bodies wanted them: Others make them to descend from the Orb of the Moon, and to return thither. The generality of the Ancients, that they were begot from Father to Son, after a like manner, and produc'd with all other Natural things; raising their Argument from the like∣ness of Children to their Fathers.

Instillata patris virtus tibi,* 1.393 Fortes creantur fortibus, & bonis.

Thou hast thy Fathers Vertues with his Blood; For the Brave still spring from the Brave and Good.

And that we see descend from Fathers to their Children, not only Bodily Marks, but moreover a Resemblance of Humours, Complexions and Inclinations of the Soul.

Denique cur acrum violentia triste leonum* 1.394 Seminium sequitur, dolus vulpibus, & fuga cervis A patribus datur, & patrius pavor incitat artus, Si non certa suo quia semine seminioque, Vis animi pariter crescit cum corpore toto?

For why should Rage from the fierce Lyon's Seed, Or from the subtle Foxes Craft proceed, Or why the tim'rous and flying Hart His fear and trembling to his Race impart, But that a certain Force of Mind does grow, And still increases, as the Bodies do?

That thereupon the Divine Justice is grounded, punishing in the Children, the Faults of their Fathers: Forasmuch as the Contagion of Pa∣ternal Vices is in some sort imprinted in the Soul of Children, and that the ill government of their Will extends to them. Moreover that if Souls had any other Derivation than a Natural Consequence, and that they had been some other thing out of the Body, they would retain some Memory of their first Being, the Natural Faculties that are proper to them of discoursing, reasoning and remembring, consider'd.

* 1.395—Si in corpus nascentibus insinuatur, Cur superantes actam aetatem meminisse nequimus, Nec vestigia gestarum rerum ulla tenemus?

For at our Birth if it infused be, Why do we then retain no Memory Of our foregoing Life, and why no more Remember any thing we did before?

For to make the condition of our Souls such as we would have it to be, we must suppose them all knowing, even in their Natural Simplicity and Purity. By these means they had been such, being free from the Prison of the Body, as well before they entred into it, as we hope they shall be after they are gone out of it. And from this knowledge it should follow, that they should remember being get in the Body, as Plato said, That what we learn is no other than a remembrance of what we knew before; a thing which every one by experience may maintain to be false. Forasmuch, in the first place, as that we do not justly remember any thing, but

what we have been taught: And that if the Memory did purely perform its Office, it would at least suggest to us something more than what we have learned. Secondly, That which she knew being in her Purity, was a true Know∣ledge, knowing things as they are by her Di∣vine Intelligence: Whereas here we make her receive Falshood and Vice, when we instruct her; wherein she cannot imploy her Remini∣scence, that Image and Conception having ne∣ver been planted in her. ••o say, that the Cor∣poral Prison does in such sort suffocate her Na∣tural Faculties, that they are there utterly ex∣tinct, is first, contrary to this other Belief of acknowledging her Power to be so great, and and the Operations of it, that Men sensibly per∣ceive in this Life so admirable, as to have there∣by concluded this Divinity, and past Eternity, and the Immortality to come:* 1.396

Nam si tantopere est animi mutata potestas, Omnis ut actarum exciderit retinentia rerum, Non ut opinor ea ab letho jam longior errat.

For if the Mind be chang'd to that degree, As of past things to lose all Memory, So great a Change as that, I must confess, Appears to me than Death but little less.

Furthermore 'tis here with us, and not else∣where, that the Forces and Effects of the Soul ought to be consider'd: All the rest of her Per∣fections are vain and useless to her; 'tis by her present condition, that all her Immortality is to be rewarded and paid, and of the Life of Man only that she is to render an account: It

had been Injustice to have stript her of her Means and Powers, and to have disarm'd her, only from the time of her Captivity and Impri∣sonment in the Flesh, of her Weakness and In∣firmity from the time wherein she was forc'd and compell'd to extract an infinite and perpe∣tual Sentence and Condemnation, and to insist upon the Consideration of so short a time, per∣adventure but an hour or two, or at the most but an Age, (which have no more proportion with Infinity, than an Instant) for this Mo∣mentary Interval to ordain, and definitively to determine of her whole Eternity. It were an unreasonable disproportion to extract an eter∣nal Recompence in consequence of so short a Life. Plato, to defend himself from this incon∣venience, will have future Rewards limited to the term of a hundred years, relatively to Hu∣man Duration: And of us our selves there are enow, who have given them Temporal Limits. By this they judg'd, that the Generation of the Soul follow'd the common condition of Human things: As also her Life according to the Opi∣nion of Epicurus and Democritus, which has been the most receiv'd, in consequence of these fine apparences, that they saw it born, and that according as the Body grew more capable, they saw it increase in Vigour, as the other did; that its feebleness in Infancy was very manifest, and in time its better Strength and Maturity, and after that its Declension and Old Age, and at last its decripitude:

—gigni pariter cum corpore,* 1.397 & unà Crescere sentimus, paritèrque senescere mentem.

Souls with the Bodies to be born we may Discern with them t'increase, with them decay.

They perceiv'd it to be capable of divers Pas∣sions, and agitated with several painful Motions, from whence it fell into lassitude and uneasiness, capable of Alteration and Change, of Chear∣fulness and Stupidity, and Faintness, and sub∣ject to Diseases and Injuries, as the Stomach or the Foot:

—Mentem sanari,* 1.398 corpus ut aegrum Cernimus, & flecti medicina posse videmus.

Sick Minds as well as Bodies we do see, By Medicines Vertue oft restor'd to be.

Dazled and intoxicated with the Fumes of Wine; justled from her Seat by the Vapours of a burn∣ing Feaver, laid asleep by the application of some Medicaments, and rous'd awake by others.

—Corpoream naturam animi esse necesse est,* 1.399 Corporis quoniam telis ictúque laborat.

There must be of necessity, we find, A Nature that's corporal of the Mind, Because we evidently see it smarts, And wounded is with Shafts the Body darts.

They saw it in Astonishment, and such a one as overthrow all its Faculties through the mere Contagion of a mad Dog, and in that condition to have no Stability of Reason, no Sufficiency, no Vertue, no Philosophical Resolution, no re∣sistance that could exempt it from the subjection of Accidents; The slaver of a contemptible Curr, shed upon the hand of Socrates, to shake

all his Wisdom, and all his great and regular Imaginations, and so to annihilate them, as that there remain'd no Tracen or Footstep of his former Knowledge:

* 1.400—vis animai Conturbatur—& divisa seorsum Disjectatur eodem illo distracta veneno.

Th' power of the Souls disturb'd, and when That once is but sequestred from her, then By the same Poyson 'tis dispers'd abroad.

And this Poyson to find no more resistance in that great Soul, than in that of an Infant of four years old: A Poyson sufficient to make all Philosophy, if it were incarnate, to become fu∣rious and mad; insomuch that Cato, who ever disdain'd Death and Fortune, could not indure the sight of a Looking-glass, or of Water, con∣founded with Horror and Affright at the thought of falling by the Contagion of a mad Dog, into the Disease call'd by Physi∣tians, Hydrophobia.

* 1.401—vis morbi distracta per artus Turbat agens animam, spumantes aequore falso Ventorum ut validis fervescunt viribus undae.

Throughout the Limbs diffus'd, the fierce Disease Disturbs the Soul, as in the briny Seas, The foaming Waves to swell and boyl we see Stirr'd by the Winds impetuosity.

Now as to this particular, Philosophy has suffici∣ently arm'd Man to encounter all other Acci∣dents, either with Patience; or if the Search of that costs too dear, by an infallible Defeat, in to∣tally

depriving himself of all sentiment: But these are Expedients, that are only of use to a Soul being it self, and in its full power, capable of Reason and Deliberation: But not at all proper for this Inconvenience, where even in a Philo∣sopher, the Soul becomes the Soul of a Madman, troubled, overturn'd, and lost. Which many Occasions may produce, as a too vehement Agi∣tation that any violent Passion of the Soul may beget in it self; or a Wound in a certain part of the Person, or Vapours from the Stomach, any of which may stupify the Understanding and turn the Brain.

—Morbis in corporis auius errat Saepe animus, dementit enim deliraque fatur,* 1.402 Interdúmque gravi lethargo fertur in altum Aeternúmque soporem, oculis nutúque cadenti.

For when the Body's sick, and ill at ease, The Mind does often share in the Disease; Wanders, grows wild, and raves, and some∣times by A heavy and a stupid Lethargy, Is overcome and cast into a deep, A most profound and everlasting, Sleep.

The Philosophers, methinks, have not much touch'd this string, no more than another of the same Importance: They have this Dilemma con∣tinually in their Mouths to consolate our mor∣tal Condition: The Soul is either mortal or im∣mortal; if mortal, it will suffer no pain; if immortal, it will change for the better, they ne∣ver touch the other Branch; what if she change for the worse, and leave to the Poets the menaces of

future Torments. But thereby they make them∣selves a good Game. They are two Omissions, that I often meet with in their Discourses: I re∣turn to the first. This Soul loses the use of the soveraign stoical Good, so constant and so firm. Our fine human Wisdom must here yield, and give up her Armes. As to the rest, they did al∣so consider by the vanity of human Reason, that the mixture and association of two so contrary things as mortal and immortal, was unimagi∣nable:

* 1.403Quippe etenim mortale aeterno jungere, & unà est, Consentire putare, & fungi mutua posse, Desipere est. Quid enim diversus esse putandum Aut magis inter se disjunctum, discrepitánsque, Quàm mortale quod est, immortali atque perenni Junctum in concilio, saevas tolerare procellas?

To join the mortal then and the aetern And think they can agree in one concern, Is Madness. For what things more diff'ring are Unlike betwixt themselves, and fit to jarr? How can it then be thought, that these should bear, When thus conjoin'd, of Stormes an equal share?

Moreover, they perceiv'd the Soul tending to∣wards death, as well as the Body.

Simul aevo fessa fatiscit.

Which,* 1.404 according to Zeno, the Image of Sleep does sufficiently demonstrate to us. For he looks upon it as a fainting and fall of the Soul, as well as of the Body.* 1.405 Contrahi animum, & quasi labi putat, atque decidere. He thinks the Mind is

transported, and that it slips and falls. And what they perceiv'd in some, that the Soul maintain∣ed its force and vigour to the last gasp of Life, they attributed to the variety of Diseases, as it is observable in Men at the last Extremity, that some retain one Sence, and some another, one the Hearing and another the Smell, without any manner of Defects or Alteration; and that there is no so universal a Deprivation, that some parts do not remain vigorous and entire:

Non alio pacto quàm si pes cum dolet agri, In nullo caput intera sit fortè dolore.

As if a sick Man's Foot in pain should be And yet his Head perhaps from Dolours free.* 1.406

The sight of our Judgment is to Truth, the same that the Owles Eyes are to the Sun, says Aristotle: By what can we better convince him, than by so gross Blindness in so apparent a Light? For the contrary Opinion of the immortality of the Soul, which Cicero says, was first introduc'd (by the Testimony of the Authors at least) by Pherecides Syrius in the time of King Tullus; (though others attribute it to Thales, and others to others) 'tis the part of human Science, that is treated of with the most doubt and the great∣est reservation. The most positive Dogmatists, are in this point, principally to fly to the Re∣fuge of Academy. No one knows what Aristo∣tle has established upon this Subject, no more than all the Ancients in general, who handle it with a wavering Belief: Rem gratissimam promit∣tentium magis quàm probantium: A thing more ac∣ceptable in the Promisers, than the Provers. He

conceals himself in clouds of Words of difficult and unintelligible Sense, and has left to those of his Sect as great a Dispute about his Judgment, as the matter it self. Two things rendred this Opinion plausible to them: One, that without the immortality of Souls, there would be no∣thing whereon to ground the vain Hopes of Glo∣ry, which is a Consideration of wonderful Re∣pute in the World: The other, that it is a ve∣ry profitable Impression,* 1.407 as Plato says, that Vi∣ces, when they escape the Discovery and Cog∣nizance of human Justice, are still within the reach of the Divine, which will pursue them e∣ven after the Death of the Guilty. Man is ex∣cessively solicitous to prolong his Being, and has to the utmost of his Power provided for it. Monuments are erected, and embalming in use, for the Conservation of the Body, and glory to preserve the Name. He has employed all his Wit and Opinion to the rebuilding of himself (impatient of his Form) and to prop himself by his Inventions. The Soul by reason of its Anxi∣ety and Impotence, being unable to stand by it self, wanders up and down to seek out Conso∣lations, Hopes and Foundations, and alien Cir∣cumstances, to which she adheres and fixes. And how light or fantastick soever Invention deli∣vers them to it, relies more willingly and with greater Assurance upon them, than it self. But 'tis wonderful to observe, how short the most constant and obstinate Maintainers of this just and clear Persuasion of the Immortality of the Soul do fall, and how weak their Arguments are,

when they go about to prove it by human Rea∣son. Somnia sunt non docentis, sed optantis.* 1.408 They are Dreams not of the Teacher but Wisher, says one of the Antients. By which Testimony Man may know, that he owes the Truth he himself finds out to Fortune and Accident; since that even then, when it is fallen into his Hand, he has not wherewith to hold and maintain it, and that his Reason has not Force to make use of it. All things produc'd by our own Medita∣tion and Understanding, whether true or false, are subject to Incertitude and Controversy. 'Twas for the Chastisement of our Pride, and for the Instruction of our Misery and Incapa∣city, that God wrought the Perplexity and Con∣fusion at the Tower of Babel. Whatever we undertake without his Assistance, whatever we see without the Lamp of his Grace, is but Va∣nity and Folly. We corrupt the very Essence of Truth, which is uniform and constant by our Weakness, when Fortune puts it into our Pos∣session. What Course soever Man takes of him∣self, God still permits it to come to the same Confusion, the Image whereof he so lively re∣presents to us in the just Chastisement where∣with he crusht Nimrod's Presumption, and frust∣rated the vain Attempt of his proud Structure. Perdam sapientiam sapientium, & prudentiam prudentium reprobabe.* 1.409 I will destroy the Wisdom of the Wise, and will bring to nothing the Vnder∣standing of the Prudent. The Diversity of Idi∣omes and Languages with which he disturb'd this work, what are they other, than this infinite and perpetual alteration and discordance of Opi∣nions

and Reasons, which accompany and con∣found the vain Building of human Wisdom? And 'tis to very good effect, that they do so. For what would hold us if we had but the least grain of Knowledg? This Saint has very much oblig'd me. Ipsa utilitatis occultatio, aut humilitatis ex∣ercitatio est, aut elationis attritio. The very con∣cealment of the Vtility, is either an exercise of Humility, or a quelling of Presumption. To what a pitch of Presumption and Insolence do we raise our Blindness and Folly? But to return to my Subject, it was truly very good Reason, that we should be beholding to God only, and to the favour of his Grace, for the Truth of so noble a Belief, since from his sole Bounty we receive the Fruit of Immortality, which con∣sists in the Enjoyment of eternal Beatitude. Let us ingeniously confess, that God alone has dicta∣ted it to us and the Faith: For 'tis no Lesson of Nature and our own Reason. And whoever will enquire into his own Being and Power, both within and without, without this divine Privilege: Whoever shall consider Man impar∣tially, and without Flattery, will see nothing in him of Efficacy, nor any kind of Faculty, that relishes of any thing but Death and Earth. The more we give and confess to owe and render to God, we do it with the greater Christianity. That which this Stoick Philosopher says, he holds from the fortuitous Consent of the popular Voice, had it not been better, that he had held it from God? Cùm de animorum aeternitate disseri∣mus, non leve momentum apud nos habet consen∣sus hominum,* 1.410 aut timentium inferos, aut colentium.

Vtor hac publica persuasione. When we discourse of the Immortality of Souls, the consent of Men, that either fear or adore the infernal Power, is of no small Advantage. I make use of this publick Persuasion. Now the weakness of human Argu∣ments upon this Subject, is particularly mani∣fested by the fabulous Arguments they have su∣peradded as Consequences of this Opinion, to find out of what Condition this Immortality of ours was. Let us omit the Stoicks, Vsuram no∣bis largiuntur, tanquam cornicibus;* 1.411 diu mansuros aiunt animos; semper, negant. They give us a long Life, as also they do to Crows; they say our Soul shall continue long, but that it shall continue al∣ways, they deny. Who give to Souls a Life after this, but finite. The most universal and re∣ceiv'd Fancy, and that continues down to our Times, is that, of which they make Pythagoras the Author; (not that he was the original In∣ventor, but because it receiv'd a great deal of Weight and Repute by the Authority of his Ap∣probation,) is, that Souls at their departure out of us, did nothing but shift from one Body to another, from a Lyon to a Horse, from a Horse to a King, continually travailing at this rate from Habitation to Habitation. And he him∣self said, that he remembred he had been Ae∣thalides, since that Euphorbus, and afterwards Hermotimus; and finally from Pyrrhus, was past into Pythagoras, having a Memory of himself of two hundred and six Years. And some have added that these very Souls sometimes remount to Heaven and come down again.

O pater,* 1.412 ànne aliquas ad Coelum hinc ire pu∣tandum est

Sublimes animas iterúmque ad tarda reverti Corpora? quae lucis miseris tam dira cupido?

Is it to be believ'd, that some sublime, And high-flown Souls, should hence from Hea∣ven climb, And thence return t'immure themselves in slow, And heavy Prisons of dull Flesh below?

Origen makes them eternally to go and come, from a better to a worse Estate. The Opinion that Varro makes mention of, is, that after four hundred and forty Years Revolution, they should be re-united to their first Bodies. Chry∣sippus held, that that would happen after a cer∣tain space of time unknown and unlimited. Pla∣to (who professes to have embraced this Belief from Pindar and the ancient Poets) thinks they are to undergo infinite Vicissitudes of Mutation, for which the Soul is prepar'd, having neither Punishment nor reward in the other World, but what is Temporal, as its Life here is but Tem∣poral, concludes that it has a singular Knowledg of the Affairs of Heaven, of Hell, of the World, through all which it has past, repast, and made stay in several Voyages; fit matters for her Memory. Observe her Progress elsewhere; the Soul that has liv'd well is reunited to the Star, to which it is assign'd: That removes into a Woman, and, if it do not there reform, is again removed into a Beast of Condition suitable to its vicious Manners, and shall see no end of its pun∣ishments, till it be returned to its natural Con∣stitution, and that it has by the force of Rea∣son purg'd it self from those gross, stupid, and elementary Qualities it was polluted with. But

I will not omit the Objection the Epicureans make against this Transmigration from one Bo∣dy to another, and 'tis a pleasant one. They ask, what Expedient would be found out, if the number of the dying should chance to be grea∣ter, than that of those who are coming into the World. For the Souls, turned out of their old Habitation, would scuffle and croud which should first get Possession of this new Lodging. And they further demand, how they should pass away their time, whilst waiting till a new Quarter were made ready for them: Or on the contrary, if more Animals should be born, than dye, the Body, they say, would be but in an ill Condition, whilst in expectation of a Soul to be infused into it; and it would fall out, that some Bodies would dye, before they had been alive.

Denique connubia adveneris, partúsque ferarum,* 1.413 Esse animas praesto deridiculum esse videtur, Et spectare immortales mortalia membra Innumero numero, certaréque praeproperanter Inter se, quae prima potissimáque insinuetur.

It seems ridiculous, that Souls should be Always attending on Beast's Venery, And being immortal, mortal Bodies shou'd, Covet to have, and in vast numbers crowd, Strive and contend with heat and eagerness, Which should the first and most desir'd possess.

Others have arrested the Soul in the Body of the Deceased, with it to animate Serpents, Worms, and other Beasts, which are said to be bred out of the Corruption of our Members, and even out of our Ashes; Others divide them in∣to two parts, the one mortal, and the other im∣mortal.

Others make it Corporeal, and never∣theless Immortal. Some make it Immortal without Science or Knowledg. And there are even of us our selves who have believed, that Devils were made of the Souls of the Damned; as Plutarch thinks, that Gods we made of those that were saved. For there are few things which that Author is so positive in, as he is in this; maintaining elsewhere a doubtful and am∣biguous way of Expression. We are to hold, says he, and steadfastly to believe, that the Souls of Virtuous Men, both according to Nature and the divine Justice, become Saints, and from Saints Demy-Gods, and from Demy-Gods, af∣ter they are perfectly, as in Sacrifices of Purga∣tion, cleansed and purified, being delivered from all Passibility, and all Mortality, they become not by any civil Decree, but in real Truth, and according to all probability of Reason, entire and perfect Gods, in receiving a most happy and glorious End. But who desires to see him, him, I say, who is the most sober and moderate of the whole Gang of Philosophers, lay about him with greater Boldness, and relate his Mi∣racles upon this Subject, I refer him to his Trea∣tise of the Moon, and his Daemon of Socrates, where he may as evidently as in any other place whatever, satisfy himself and affirm, that the Mysteries of Philosophy have many strange things in common with those of Poesy; human Under∣standing losing it self, in attempting to sound and search all things to the Bottom: Even as we, tired and worn out with a long course of Life, return to Infancy and Dotage. See here

the fine and certain Instructions, which we ex∣tract from human Knowledg, concerning the Soul. Neither is there less Temerity in what they teach us touching our corporal Parts. Let us choose out one or two Examples; for other∣wise we should lose our selves in this vast and troubled Ocean of Medicinal Errors. Let us first know, whether at least they agree about the Mat∣ter, whereof Men produce one another. For as to their first Production, it is no wonder if in a thing so high, and so long since past, human Understanding finds it self puzzled and perplex∣ed. Archelaus the Physitian, whose Disciple and Favourite Socrates was, according to Ari∣stoxenus, said, that both Men and Beasts were made of a lacteous Slime, exprest by the Heat of the Earth. Pythagoras says, that our Seed is the Foam or Cream of our better Blood. Plato, that it is the Distillation of the Marrow of the Back-bone, and raises his Argument from this, that that part is first sensible of being weary of the Work. Alcmeon, that it is part of the Sub∣stance of the Brain, and that it is so, says he, it causes weakness of the Eyes in those who are over-immoderately addicted to that Exercise: Democritus, that it is a Substance extracted from the whole Mass of the Body: Epicurus, extract∣ed from Soul and Body: Aristotle, an Excre∣ment drawn from the Aliment of the last Blood which is diffused over all our Members: Others, that it is a Blood concocted and digested by the heat of the Genitories, which they judg, by reason that in excessive Endeavours a Man voids pure florid Blood: Wherein there seems to be

the most likelyhood, could a Man extract any apparance from so infinite a Confusion. Now to bring this Seed to do its Work, how many con∣trary Opinions do they set on Foot? Aristotle and Democritus are of Opinion, that Women have no Sperm, and that 'tis nothing but a Sweat that they distil in the heat of Pleasure and Motion, that contributes nothing at all to Ge∣neration. Galen on the contrary, and his Fol∣lowers, believe that without the Concurrence of Seeds, there can be no Generation. Here are the Physitians, the Philosophers, the Lawyers, and Divines, by the Ears with our Wives, about the Dispute, upon what Terms Women conceive their Fruit. And I for my part, by the Exam∣ple of myself, stickle with those that maintain a Woman going eleven Months with Child. The World is built upon this Experience; there is not so pitiful a little Female that cannot give her Judgment in all these Controversies; and yet we cannot agree. Here is enough to evi∣dence, that Man is no better instructed in the Knowledg of himself, in his corporal, than in his spiritual Part. We have proposed himself to himself, and his Reason to his Reason, to see what she could say, and, I think, I have sufficient∣ly demonstrated how little she understands her self in her self. And who understands not him∣self in himself, in what can he possibly under∣stand?* 1.414 Quasi verò mensuram ullius rei possit age∣re, qui sui nesciat. As if he could understand the Measure of any other thing, that knows not his own. In earnest, Protagoras told us a pret∣ty Flam, in making Man the measure of all

things, that never knew so much as his own. If it be not he, his Dignity will not permit, that any other Creature should have this Advantage. Now he being so contrary in himself, and one Judgment so incessantly subverting another, this favorable Proposition was but a Mockery, which induc'd us necessarily to conclude the Nullity of the Compass and the Compasser; when Thales reputes the knowledg of Man very difficult for Man to Comprehend, he at the same time gives him to understand, that all other Knowlege is impossible. You, for whom I have taken the Pains, contrary to my Custom, to write so long a Discourse, will not refuse to maintain your Sebonde, by the ordinary Forms of Arguing, wherewith you are every day instructed, and in this will exercise both your Wit and Learning: For this f••ncing trick, is never to be made use of, but as an extream Remedy. 'Tis a despe∣rate Thrust wherein you are to quit your own Arms, to make your Adversary abandon his: And a secret Slight, which must be very rarely, and then very reservedly, put in Practise. 'Tis great Temerity to lose your self, that you may destroy another, you must not die to be re∣venged, as Gobrias did: For being hotly grap∣pled in Combat with a Lord of Persia, Dari∣us coming in with his Sword in his Hand, and fearing to strike least he should kill Gobrias; he called out to him boldly to fall on, tho' he should run them both thorow at once. I have known the Arms and Conditions of single Combat to the utmost, and wherein he, that offered them, put himself and his Adversary upon Terms of inevi∣table

Death to them both, censured for unjust. The Portuguese in the Indian Sea took certain Turks Prisoners, who, impatient of their Capti∣vity, resolv'd, and it succeded, by striking the Nayles of the Ship against one another, and making a Spark to fall into the Barrels of Pow∣der (that were set in the place, where they were guarded) to blow and reduce themselves, their Masters, and the Vessel to Ashes. We have touch∣ed the out-Pale and utmost Limits of Sciences; wherein the Extremity is Vicious, as in Virtue. Keep your selves in the common Road, it is not good to be so subtle and cunning. Remember the Thuscan Proverb.

* 1.415Chi troppo s'assottiglia, si scavezza.

Who makes himself too Wise, becomes a Fool.

I advise you, that, in all your Opinions and Dis∣courses, as well as in your Manners, and all other things, you keep your selves moderate and tem∣perate, and to avoid all Novelty. I am an Enemy to all extravagant Ways. You, who by the Au∣thority of your Grandeur, and yet more by the Advantages which those Qualities give you that are most your own, may with the twinck of an Eye command whom you please, ought to give this Caution to some one who made Profession of Letters, who might after a better manner have proved and illustrated these things to you. But here is as much as you will stand in need of. Epicu∣rus said of the Laws, that the worst were necessary for us, and that without them Men would de∣vour one another. And Plato affirms, that with∣out Laws, we should live like Beasts. Our Spi∣rit is a wandring, dangerous, and temerarious

Utile, it is hard to couple any Order or Mea∣sure to it. In those of our own time, who are endued with any rare Excellence above others, or any extraordinary Vivacity of Understanding, we see them almost all lash out into Licence of Opinions and Manners; and 'tis almost a Mira∣cle to find one Temperate and Sociable. 'Tis all the Reason in the World to limit human Wit within the strictest Limits imaginable. In Study, as in all the rest, we ought to have its Steps and Advances numbred and fix'd, and that the Li∣mits of its Inquisition be bounded by Act. It is curb'd and fetter'd by Religions, Laws and Customs, by Sciences, Precepts, mortal and Im∣mortal Penalties: and yet we see, that it escapes from all these Bounds by its Volubility and Dis∣solution. 'Tis a vain Body which has nothing to lay hold on, or to seize, a various and difform Body, incapable of being either bound or held. In earnest, there are few Souls so regular, firm, and well descended, that are to be trusted with their own Conduct; and that can with Mode∣ration, and without Temerity sayl in the Li∣berty of their own Judgments, beyond the com∣mon and received Opinions. 'Tis more expedi∣ent to put them under Pupillage. Wit is a dange∣rous Weapon, even to the Possessor, if he knows not discreetly how to use it, and there is not a Beast to whom a Head-board is more justly to be given, to keep his Looks down and before his Feet, and to hinder him from wandring here and there out of the Tracks, which Custom and the Laws have laid before him. And there∣fore it will much better become you to keep

your selves in the beaten Path, let it be what it will, than to fly out at a venture with this un∣bridled Liberty, But if any of these new Doctors, will pretend to be ingenious in your Presence, at the Expence both of your Soul and his own, to avoid this dangerous Plague, which is every day laid in your way to infect you, this Preser∣vative, in the extreamest Necessity, will prevent the Danger, and hinder the Contagion of this Poison from offending either you or your Com∣pany. The Liberty then, and frolick Forward∣ness of these antient Wits, produced in Philoso∣phy and human Sciences, several Sects of dif∣ferent Opinions, every one undertaking to judg and make choise of what he would stick to and maintain. But now that Men go all one way: Qui certis quibusdam destinatisque sententiis ad∣dicti & consecrati sunt,* 1.416 ut etiam, quae non pro∣bant, cogantur defendere. Who are so tyed and obliged to certain Beliefs, that they are bound to defend even those they do not approve: and that we receive the Arts by civil Authority and De∣cree: So that the Schools have but one Pattern, and a like circumscribed Institution and Disci∣pline, we no more take notice what the Coyn weighs, and is really worth; but every one re∣ceives it according to the Estimate that common Approbation puts upon it: The Alloy is not dis∣puted, but how much it is currant for; and in like manner all things pass. We take Physick as we do Geometry aad Tricks of Hocus-pocus, En∣chantments, Codpiece-Points, the Correspondence of the Souls of the Dead, Prognostications, Do∣mifications, and so much as this ridiculous pur∣suit

of the Philosophers Stone, all things pass for currant Pay, without any manner of Scruple or Contradiction. We need to know no more, but that Mars his House is in the middle of the Tri∣angle of the Hand, that of Venus in the Thumb, and that of Mercury in the little Finger, that when the Table-Line cuts the Tubercle of the Fore-Fingers, 'tis a sign of Cruelty; that when it falls short of the middle Finger,* 1.417 and that the natural Median-Line makes an Angle with the Vital in the same side,* 1.418 'tis a sign of a miserable Death. That if in a Woman the natural Line be open, and does not close the Angle with the Vital, denotes that she shall not be very Chast.* 1.419 I leave you to judg, whether a Man, thus qualified, may not pass with Reputation and Esteem in all Companies. Theophrastus said, that human Know∣ledg, guided by the Sences, might judg of the Causes of things to a certain degree; but that being arriv'd to first and extream Causes, it Must stop short and retire, by reason either of its own infirmity, or the difficulty of things. 'Tis a moderate and gentle Opinion, that our own Understandings may conduct us to the know∣ledge of some things, and that it has certain Measures of Power, beyond which, 'tis Teme∣rity to employ it. This Opinion is plausible, and introduced by Men of well-compos'd Minds; but 'tis hard to limit our Wit, 'tis curious and greedy, and will no more stop at a thousand, than at fifty Paces. Having my self experi∣mentally found, that wherein one has failed, the other has hit, and that what was unknown to one Age, the Age following has explain'd;

and that Arts and Sciences are not cast in a Mould, but are form'd and perfected by degrees, by often handling and polishing, as Bears lei∣surely lick their Cubs into shape; what my Force cannot discover, I do not yet desist to sound and to try: But handling and kneading this new Matter over, and over again, by turn∣ing and heating it, I lay open to him, that shall succeed me, a kind of Facility to injoy it more at his ease, and make it more maniable and supple for him: —ut Hymettia sole

* 1.420Cera remollescit, tractatáque pollice multas Vertitur in facies, ipsóque fit utilis usu.

As Wax does softer in the Sun become, * 1.421And temper'd 'twixt the Finger & the Thumb, Will various Forms, and sev'ral Shapes admit, Till for the present use 'tis rendred fit.

As much will the second do to the third, which is the cause that the difficulty ought not to make me despair, and my own Imbecillity, as little; for 'tis nothing, but my own. Man is as capable of all things, as of some: And if he confesses, as Theophrastus says, the ignorance of first Causes, let him hard by surrender to me all the rest of his Knowledge: If he is defective in Foundation, his Reason is on the Ground: Disputation and Inquisition have no other aim, nor stop but Principles, if this do not stop his Carreer, he runs into an infinite Irresolution. Non potest aliud alio magis minusve comprehendi, quoniam omnium rerum una est definitio comprehen∣dendi: One thing can no more be comprehended than another, because the definition of comprehending all things is the same. Now 'tis very likely, that

if the Soul knew any thing, it would in the first place know it self, and if it knew any thing out of it self, it would be its own Body and Case, before any thing else. If we see the Gods of Physick to this very day debating about our Anatomy.

—Mulciber in Trojam, pro Troja stabat Apollo:* 1.422 Vulcan against, for Troy Apollo stood.

When are we to expect, that they will be agreed? We are nearer Neighbours to our selves, than the whiteness of Snow, or the weight of Stone are to us. If Man does not know him∣self, how should he know his Forces and Fun∣ctions? It is not peradventure, that we have not some real Knowledge in us; but 'tis by chance; and forasmuch as Errors are received into our Soul by the same way, after the same manner, and by the same Conduct, it has not wherewithal to distinguish them, nor where∣withal to chuse the Truth from Falshood. The Academicks admitted a certain Partiality of Judg∣ment; and thought it too crude to say, that it was not more likely, that Snow was white, than black, and that we were no more assur'd of the motion of a Stone, thrown by the hand, than of that of the eighth Sphear. And to avoid this difficulty and strangeness, that can, in truth, hardly lodg in our Imagination; though they did conclude, that we were in no sort ca∣pable of Knowledge, and that Truth is ingulfed in so profound an Abyss, as is not to be penetra∣ted by Human Sight: Yet do they acknowledge something to be more likely than others, and receiv'd into their Judgment this Faculty, that they had a power to incline to one apparence

more than another. They allow'd him this propension, interdicting all Resolution. The Pyrrhonians Opinon is more bold, and also more likely. For this Academick Inclination, and this Propension to one Proposition rather than another; what is it other, than a Discovery of some more apparent Truth in this, than in that? If our Understanding be capable of the Form, Lineaments, Comportment and Face of Truth, it might as well see it intire, as by halves, spring∣ing and imperfect. This apparence of likeli∣hood, which makes them rather take the Left hand, than the Right, augments it: Multiply this Ounce of Verisimilitude, that turns the Scales to a hundred, to a thousand Ounces, it will happen in the end, that the Ballance will it self end the Controversie, and determine one Choice, and intire Truth. But why do they suffer themselves to incline to, and be sway'd by Verisimilitude, if they know not the Truth? How should they know the Similitude of that, whereof they do not know the Essence: Either we can absolutely judge, or absolutely we can∣not. If our intellectual and sensible Faculties are without Foot or Foundation; if they only hull and drive, 'tis to no purpose that we suffer our Judgments to be carried away with any thing of their Operation, what apparence so∣ever they may seem to present us. And the surest and most happy Seat of our Understand∣ing would be that, where it kept it self tempe∣rate, upright and inflexible, without tottering, or without agitation.* 1.423 Inter visa, vera, aut fal∣sa, ad animi assensum, nihil interest. Amongst

things that seem, whether true or false, it signifies nothing to the assent of the mind. That things do not lodge in us in their Form and Essence, and do not there make their entry by their own Force and Authority, we sufficiently see. Be∣cause if it were so, we should receive them af∣ter the same manner: Wine would have the same relish with the sick, as with the healthful. He who has his Finger chapt or benum'd, would find the same hardness in Wood or Iron that he handles, that another does. Strange Subjects then surrender themselves to our Mercy, and are seated in us as we please. Now if on our part we did receive any thing without altera∣tion, if Human Grasp were capable and strong enough to seize on Truth by our own means, being common to all Men, this Truth would be convey'd from hand to hand from one to another; and at least there would be some one thing to be found in the World amongst so ma∣ny as there are, that would be believ'd by Men with an universal Consent. But this, that there is no one Proposition, that is not debated and controverted amongst us, or that may not be, makes it very manifest, that our Natural Judg∣ment does not very clearly discern what it im∣braces: For my Judgment cannot make my Companions approve of what it approves: Which is a sign that I seiz'd it by some other means, than by a Natural Power that is in me, and in all other Men. Let us lay aside this infinite Confusion of Opinions, which we see even amongst the Philosophers themselves, and this perpetual and universal Dispute about the

knowledge of things. For this is truly pre∣suppos'd, that Men, I mean the most know∣ing, the best born, and of the best parts, are not agreed about any one thing: Not that Hea∣ven is over our heads: For they that doubt of every thing, do also doubt of that; and they who deny that we are able to comprehend any thing▪ say, that we have not comprehended, that the Heaven is over our heads, and these two Opinions are without comparison the stronger in number. Besides this infinite Di∣versity and Division, through the Trouble that our Judgment gives our selves, and the Incer∣tainty that every one is sensible of in himself, 'tis easie to perceive that its Seat is very unsta∣ble and unsecure. How variously do we judge of things? How often do we alter our Opini∣ons? What I hold and believe to day, I hold and believe with my whole Belief: All my In∣struments and Engines seize and take hold of this Opinion, and become responsible to me for it, at least as much as in them lyes; I could not imbrace, nor conserve any Truth with greater confidence and assurance▪ than I do this. I am wholly and intirely possess'd with it: But has it not befallen me not only once, but a thousand times every day to have imbrac'd some other thing with all the same Instruments, and in the same condition, which I have since judg'd to be false? A Man must at least become wise at his own expence. If I have often found my self betrayed under this colour, if my Touch prove ordinarily false, and my Ballance unequal and unjust, what assurance can I now

have more, than at other times? Is it not stupidity and madness to suffer my self to be so often deceiv'd by my Guide? Nevertheless let Fortune remove and shift us five hundred times from place ro place, let her do nothing but incessantly empty and fill into our Belief, as into a Vessel, other and other Opinions; yet still the present and the last is the certain and infallible: For this we must abandon Goods, Honour, Life, Health and all.

—posterior res illa reperta* 1.424 Perdit, & immutat sensus ad pristina quaeque.

The last thing we find out is always best, And makes us to disrelish all the rest.

Whatever is preach'd to us, and whatever we learn, we should still remember, that it is Man that gives, and Man that receives; 'tis a mor∣tal Hand that presents it to us, 'tis a mortal Hand that accepts it. The things that come to us from Heaven, have the sole Right and Au∣thority of Persuasion, the sole mark of Truth: Which also we do not see with our own Eyes, nor receive by our own means: That Great and Sacred Image could not abide in so wretched a Habitation, if God for this end did not pre∣pare it, if God did not by his particular and supernatural Grace and Favour, fortifie and re∣form it: At least our frail and defective conditi∣on ought to make us comport our selves with more reservedness and moderation in our Inno∣vations and Change. We ought to remember, that whatever we receive into the Understand∣ing, we often receive things that are false, and that it is by the same Instruments that so of∣ten

gives themselves the Lie, and are so oft de∣ceiv'd. Now it is no wonder they should so of∣ten contradict themselves, being so easie to be turn'd and sway'd by very light Occurrences. It is certain that our Apprehensions, our Judg∣ment, and the Faculties of the Soul in general, suffer according to the Movements and Alte∣rations of the Body; which Alterations are continual. Are not our Wits more spritely, our Memories more prompt and quick, and our Meditations more lively in Health, than in Sickness? Do not Joy and Gayety make us re∣ceive Subjects that present themselves to our Souls, quite otherwise that Care and Melancho∣ly? Do you believe that Catellus his Verses, or those of Sappho please an old doting Miser, as they do a vigorous and amorous Young-man? Cleomenes the Son of Anaxandridas being sick, his Friends reproach'd him, that he had Hu∣mours and Whimsies that were new and un∣accustom'd; I believe it, said he, neither am I the same Man now, as when I am in health: Being now another thing, my Opinions and Fancies are also other than they were before. In our Courts of Justice, this word which is spoken of Crimi∣nals, when they find the Judges in a good Hu∣mour, gentle and mild, Gaudeat de bona fortuna, Let him rejoyce in his good Forune, is much in use. For it is most certain that Mens Judg∣ments are sometimes more prone to Condem∣nation, more sharp and severe; and at others more facile, easie, and inclin'd to excuse. He that carries with him from his House, the pain of the Gout, Jealousie or Theft by his Man, ha∣ving

his whole Soul possest with Grief and An∣ger, it is not to be doubted but that his Judg∣ment will lean this way. That venerable Senate, of the Areopagites, was want to hear and deter∣mine by night, for fear lest the sight of the Par∣ties might corrupt their Justice. The very Air it self, and the Serenity of Heaven, will cause some mutation in us, according to these Greek Verses in Cicero.

Tales sunt hominum mentes,* 1.425 quali pater ipse Juppiter, auctifera lustravit lampade terras.

The Minds of Men do in the Weather share, Dark or serene, as the day's foul or fair.

'Tis not only Feavers, Debauches, and great Accident•• that overthrow our Judgments; the least things in the World will do it. We are not to doubt, though we are not sensible of it, but that if a continued Feaver can overwhelm the Soul, a Tertian will in some proportionate measure alter it. If an Apoplexy can stupifie, and totally extinguish the sight of our Under∣standing, we are not to doubt but that a great Cold will dazzle it. And consequently there is hardly one single hour in a Man's whole Life, wherein our Judgment is in its due place and right condition, our Bodies being subject to so many continual mutations, and stuffed with so many several sorts of Springs and Devices, that I believe Physicians how hard it is, but that there must be always some one or other out of order. As to what remains, this Malady does not very easily discover it self, unless it be ex∣tream and past remedy: Forasmuch as reason goes always lame, halting, and that as well

with Falshood, as with Truth; and therefore 'tis hard to discover her Deviations and Mistakes. I always call that appearance of meditation which every one forges in himself, reason: This reason, of the condition of which, there may be a hundred contrary ones about one and the same Subject, is an Instrument of Lead and of Wax, ductile, plyable and accommodable to all sorts of Bias's, and to all Measures; so that nothing re∣mains but the Art and Skill, how to turn and mould it. How uprightly soever a Judge may resolve to demean himself, if he be not well look'd to himself, which few are careful to do, his In∣clination to Friendship, to Relation, to Beauty or Revenge, and not only things of that weight, but even the fortuitous instinct, that makes us favour one thing more than another, and that without the Reasons leave, puts the Choice upon us in two equal Subjects; or some Shadow of like Vanity, may insensibly insinuate into his Judgment, the recommendation or disfavour of a Cause, and make the Ballance dip. I, that watch my self as narrowly as I can, and that have my Eyes continually bent upon my self, like one that has no great business elsewhere to do;

* 1.426—quis sub Areto Rex gelidae mettatur orae, Quid Tyridatem terreat, unicè Securus.—

—secure whatever King Does rule the stubborn North, or whatso'ere The mighty Tiridates puts in fear.

Dare hardly tell the Vanity and Weakness I find in my self. My Foot is so unstable, and stands so

tickle, I find myself so apt to totter and reele, and my Sight so disordered, that fasting I am quite an∣other Man, than when full; if Health and a fair Day smile upon me, I am a very honest good na∣tur'd Man, if a Corn trouble my Toe, I am sullen, out of Humor, and not to be seen. The same Pace of a Horse seems to me one while hard, and another easy, and the same way one while shorter, and an∣other more long: And the same Form, one while more, and another less taking. I am one while for doing every thing, and another for doing nothing at all; and what pleases me now, would be a trou∣ble to me at another time. I have a thousand sence∣less and casual Actions within myself. Either I am possest by Melancholy, or sway'd by Choler; now by its own private Authority, Sadness predomi∣nates in me, and by and by I am as merry as a Cricket. When I take a Book in hand, I have then discovered admirable Graces in such and such Pas∣sages, and such as have strook my Soul, let me light upon them at another time, I may turn and toss, tumble and rattle the Leaves to much purpose, 'tis then to me an inform and undiscover'd Mass. E∣ven in my own Writings, I do not always find the Aire of my first Fancy: I know not what I would have said, but am often put to it to correct and pump for a new Sence, because I have lost the first that was better. I do nothing but go and come: my Judgment does not always advance, it floates and romes,

—velut minuta magno* 1.427 Deprensa navis in mari vesaniente vento.

Like a small Bark upon the swelling Main, When Winds does ruffle up the liquid Plain.

Very often (as I am apt to do) having for Sports

sake undertaken to maintain an Opinion contrary to my own, my Mind bending and applying it self that way, does so rarely engage me in the Quar∣rel, that I no more discern the Reason of my for∣mer Belief, and forsake it. I am as it were mislead by the Side to which I encline, be it what it will, and carried away by my own Weight. Every one would almost say the same of himself, if he con∣sidered himself as I do. Preachers very well know, that the Emotions which steals upon them in speaking, does animate them towards Belief; and that in Passion we are more stiff in the Defence of our Proposition, take our selves a deeper Impres∣sion of it, and imbrace it with greater Vehemence and Approbation, than we do in our colder and more temperate Sense. You only give your Councel a simple Breviate of your Cause, he returns you a dubious and uncertain Answer, by which you find him indifferent, which side he takes: Have you fed him well that he may relish it the better, does he begin to be really concern'd, and do you find him truly interested and zealous in your Quarrel? His Reason and Learning will by de∣grees grow hot in your Cause, behold an appa∣rent and undobted Truth presents itself to his Un∣derstanding, he discovers a new Light in your Bu∣siness, and does in good earnest Believe, and per∣suade himself that it is so. Nay I do not know whether the Ardour that springs from Spite and Obstinacy, against the Power and Violence of the Magistrate and Danger; or the Interest of Repu∣tation, may it not have made some Men even to the Stake maintain the Opinion, for which at Li∣berty, and amongst Friends, he would not have

burn'd his Finger. The Shocks and Justles, that the Soul receives from the Bodies Passions▪ can do much in it, but its own can do a great deal more: To which it is so subjected, that peradventure it is to be made good, that it has no other Pace and Motion, but from the Breath of those Winds, without the Agitation of which, it would be be∣calm'd and without Action, like a Ship in the middle of the Sea, to which the Winds have de∣nyed their Assistance. And whoever should main∣tain this, siding with the Peripatetick, would do us no great Wrong. Seeing it is very well known, that the greatest and most noble Actions of the Soul proceed from, and stand in need of, this Im∣pulse of Passions. Valour, they say, cannot be perfect without the assistance of Anger.

Semper Ajax fortis, fortissimus tamen in furore.* 1.428

Ajax was always brave, but most when mad.

Neither do we encounter the Wicked and the E∣nemy vigorously enough, if we be not angry: Nay the Advocate is to inspire the Judges with Indignation, to obtain Justice. Illicite Desires dis∣ordered Themistocles and Demosthenes, and have push'd on the Philosophers to Watching, Fasting, and Pilgrimages; and lead us to Honour, Learn∣ing and Health, which are all very useful Ends. And this meanness of Soul in suffering Anxiety and Trouble, serves to breed Penitency and Re∣pentance in the Conscience, and to make us sen∣sible of the Scourge of God, and politick Correcti∣on for the Chastisement of our Offences. Com∣passion is a Spur to Clemency and Prudence; and the Prudence of preserving and governing our selves is rous'd by our Fear; and how many brave

Actions by Ambition? How many by Presump∣tion? Finally there is no brave and spiritual Virtue, without some irregular Agitation. Should it not be one of the Reasons that mov'd the Epicureans to discharge God from all Care and solicitude of our Affairs, because even the E••fects of his Boun∣ty could not be exercis'd in our Behalf, without disturbing his Repose, by the Means of Passions, which are as so many Spurs and Instruments pricking on the Soul to vertuous Actions? or have they thought otherwise, and taken them for Tem∣pests, that shamefully hurry the Soul from her Tranquility?* 1.429 Vt maris tranquillitas intelligitur, nulla ne minima quidem, aura fluctus commovente: Sic animi quietus & placatus status cernitur; quum perturbatio nulla est qua moveri queat. As it is understood to be a Calm at Sea, when there is aot the least Breath of Air stirring: So the State of the Soul is discern'd to be quiet and appeased, when there is no Perturbation to move it. What varie∣tys of Sense and Reason, what contrariety of Ima∣ginations does the Diversity of our Passions inspire us with? What Assurance than can we take of a thing so mobile and unstable, subject by its Con∣dition to the Dominion of Trouble, and never going other than a forced and borrowed Pace? If our Judgment be in the Power even of Sickness and Perturbation: If it be from Folly and Teme∣rity, that it is held to receive the Impression of things, what Assurance can we expect from it? Is it not a great Boldness in Philosophy, to be∣lieve that Men perform the greatest Actions, and nearest approaching the Divinity, when they are Furious, Mad, and besides themselves? We bet∣ter

our selves by the Astonishment and Privation of Reason. The two natural Ways to enter in∣to the Cabinet of the Gods, and there to foresee the Course of Destiny are Fury and Sleep. This is pleasant to consider. By the Dislocation that Passions cause in our Reason, we must become Vertuous: By its Extirpation occasioned by Mad∣ness, as the Image of Death, we become Diviners and Prophets. I was never so willing to believe Philosophy in any thing, as this. 'Tis a Pure Enthusiasme, wherewith Sacred Truth has inspir'd the Spirit of Philosophy, which makes it confess contrary to its own Proposition, that the most calm, composed, and healthful Estate of the Soul, that Philosophy can seat it in, is not its best Condi∣tion. Our waking is more asleep, than Sleep it self; our Wisdom less Wise than Folly: Our Dreams are worth more than our Meditation; and the worst Place we can take is in our selves. But does not Philosophy think that we are VVise enough to consider, that the Voice that the Spirit utters, when dismist from Man, so clear-sighted, so great, and so perfect, and whilst it is in Man so terrestrial Ignorant and dark, is a Voice pro∣ceeding from the Spirit of a dark, terrestrial and ignorant Man; and for this Reason a Voice not to be trusted and believed? I have no great Experi∣ence of these vehement Agitations, being of a soft and heavy Complexion, the most of which surprize the Soul on a suddain, without giving it leisure to recollect it self. But the Passion, that is said to be produced by Idleness in the Hearts of young Men, tho' it proceed leisurely, and with a measured Progress, does evidently manifest to

those who have tryed to oppose its Power, the Violence our Judgment suffers in this Alteration and Conversion. I have formerly attempted to withstand and repel it. For I am so far from be∣ing one of those who invite Vices, that I do not so much as follow them, if they do not hale me along: I perceiv'd it to spring, grow and encrease in despight of my Resistance; and at last, living and seeing as I was, wholy to seize and possess me; so that, as if newly rous'd frum Drunkenness, the Images of things began to appear to me quite o∣ther than they were wont to be: I evidently saw the Person, I desired, grow and encrease in Advan∣tages of Beauty, and to expand and blow fairer by the influence of my Imagination, the Difficulties of my Attempt to grow more easy and smooth; and both my Reason and Conscience to be laid aside: But this Fire being evaporated in an In∣stant, as from a flash of Lightning, I was aware that my Soul resum'd another kind of Sight, and another sort of Estate, and another Judgment. The Difficulties of my Retreat appear'd great and invincible, and the same things had quite another Tast and Aspect, than the heat of Desire had pre∣sented them to me. Than which Pyrrho himself knows nothing more truly. We are never without Sickness. Agues have their hot and cold Fits; from the Effects of an ardent Passion, we fall again to shi∣vering. As much as I had advanc'd, so much I retir'd.

* 1.430Qualis ubi alterno procurrens gurgite pontus, Nunc ruit ad terras scopulisque superjacit undam, Spumeus, extremámque sinu perfundit arenam: Nunc rapidus retro, atque aestu revoluta resorbens Sixa fugit, littusque vado labente reliquit.

As spumy Neptune with repeated VVaves, Now the pale Shoar, and craggy Beaches laves, And like a Drunckard vomits up the Sand, That deepest lay in heaving Tides to Land; And now retiring thence, as loud does roare, Sucking in Pebbles from the new wash'd Shore.

Now from the Knowlege of this Volubility of mine, I have accidentally begot in myself a certain Constancy of Opinions, and have not much al∣tered those that were first and natural in me. For what Apparence soever there may be in Novelty, I do not easily change, for fear of losing by the Bargain: And besides, I am not capable of chusing, I take other Mens Choice, and keep myself in the Station wherein God has plac'd me, I could not otherwise keep myself from perpetual rouling. Thus have I, by the Grace of God, preserved my self entire, without Anxiety or trouble of Conscience, amidst so many Sects and Divisions, as our Age has produced. The Writings of the Ancients, the best Authors I mean, being full and solid, tempt and carry me which way almost they will: He, that I am reading, seems always to have the most Force, and I find that every one has Reason, tho' they contradict one another. The Facility that good Wits have of rendring every thing likely they would recommend; and that nothing is so strange, to which they do not undertake to give Colour enough to deceive such a Simplicity as mine, this does evidently shew the Weakness of their Testimony. The Heaven and the Stars have been three thousand Years in Motion, and all the World were of that Belief, till Cleanthes the Sa∣mian, or (according to Theophrastus) Nicetas of

Siracusa unbethought him to maintain that it was the Earth that mov'd, turning about the Axis by the oblique Circle of the Zodiack. And Coper∣nicus has in our times so grounded this Doctrine, that it very regularly serves to all Astrological Con∣sequences. What use can we make of this, if not, that we ought not much to care, which is the true Opinion? And who knows but that a third, a thou∣sand Years hence, may overthrow the two former?

* 1.431Sic volvenda aetas commuta tempora rerum, Quodque fuit in pretio, fit nullo denique honore, Porro aliud succedit, & è contemptibus exit, Inque dies magis appetitur, floretque repertum Laudibus, & miro est mortales inter honore.

Things are so chang'd by Revolution, That what had Credit once, had after none, To which some other things despis'd, before, Suceeds, & grows in Vogue still more & more, And once receiv'd, all Praise too little seems, So highly it is rais'd in Mens Esteems.

So that when any new Doctrine presents it self to us,* 1.432 we have great Reason to mistrust; and to con∣sider that before that was set on foot, the contra∣ry had been generally received; and that as that has been overthrown by this,* 1.433 a third Invention in time to come, may start up which may damn the second. Before the Principles that Aristotle in∣troduced were in Reputation, other Principles con∣tented human Reason, as these satisfie us now. What Patent have these People, what particular Privilege, that the Carreer of our Invention must be stoped by them, and that to them should ap∣pertain the Possession of our whole future Belief? They are no more exempt from being thrust out

of Doors than their Predecessors were. When any one presses me with a new Argument, I ought to believe, that what I cannot answer, another can: For to believe all Likelyhoods that a Man can∣not confute, is great Simplicity: It would by that means come to pass, that all the Vulgar, (and we are all of the Vulgar, would have their Be∣lief as turnable as a Weathercock: For the Soul being so easy to be imposed upon, and without any Resistance, must of force incessantly receive other and other Impressions, the last still effacing all Footsteps, of that which went before. He that finds himself weak, ought to answer according to Practice, that he will speak with his Councel, or refer himself to the Wise, from whom he receiv'd his Instruction. How long is it that Physick has been practised in the World? 'Tis said, that a new Commer, call'd Paracelsus, changes and over∣throws the whole Order of antient Rules, and maintains that till now, it has been of no other use, but to kill Men. I do believe that he will easily make this good: But I do not think it were Wisdom to venture my Life in making tryal of his own Experience. VVe are not to believe eve∣ry one, (says the Precept) because every one can say all things. A Man of this Profession of No∣velties and Physical Reformations, not long since told me, that all the Ancients were notoriously mistaken in the Nature and Motions of the Winds, which he would evidently demonstrate to me, if I would give him the hearing. After I had with some Patience heard his Arguments, which were all full of likelyhood of Truth: What then said I, did those that fail'd according to Theophrastus, make

way Westward, when they had the Prow towards the East! did they go Sideward or Backward? That's Fortune, answered he; but so it is, that they were mistaken. I then replyed, that I had rather follow Effects than Reason. Now these are things that often interfere, and I have been told that in Geometrie, (which pretends to have gain'd the highest Point of Certainty of all Sci∣ence) there are Demonstrations found so inevi∣table, as subvert the Truth of all Experience. As Jaques Pelletier told me at my own House, that he had found out two Lines stretching themselves one towards the other to meet, which neverthe∣less he affirmed, though extended to all Infinity, could never happen to touch one another; and the Pyrrhonians make no other use of their Argu∣ments and their Reason, than to ruine the Ap∣parence of Experience; and 'tis a wonder, how far the suppleness of our Reason has followed them in this Design of controverting the Evidence of Effects. For they affirm, that we do not move, that we do not speak, and that there is neither Weight nor Heat, with the same force of Argu∣ment, that we verify the most likely things. Pto∣lomy, who was a great Man, had established the Bounds of this VVorld of ours: All the Ancient Philosophers thought they had the Measure of it, excepting some remote Isles, that might escape their Knowledg: It had been Pyrrh••nism a thousand Years ago, to doubt the Science of Cosmographie, and the Opinions that every one had thence re∣ceived: It was Heresy to hold the Antipodes; and behold in this Age of ours there is an infinite Ex∣tent of firm Land discovered, not an Island, or a

particular Country; but a part very near equal in Greatness to that we knew before. The Geogra∣phers of our times stick not to assure us, that now all is found, all is seen;

Nam quod adest praesto, placet, & pollere videtur.* 1.434

What present is does please, and seems the best.

But the Question is, whether, if Ptolomy was there∣in formerly deceiv'd, upon the Foundations of his Reason, it were not very foolish to trust now in what these People say: And whether it is not more like, that this great Body, which we call the VVorld, is not quite another thing, than what we imagine. Plato says, that it changes Counte∣nance in all Respects: That the Heavens, the Stars, and the Sun, have all of them sometimes Motions retrograde to what we see, changing East into West. The Egyptian Priests told Hero∣dotus, that from the time of their first King,* 1.435 which was eleven thousand and od Years (and they shew'd him the Effigies of all their Kings in Sta∣tues taken by the Life) the Sun had four times altered his Course: That the Sea and the Earth did alternately change into one another. Aristo∣tle and Cicero, both say, that the Beginning of the VVorld is undetermin'd. And some amongst us are of Opinion, that it has been from all Eter∣nity, is mortal, and renued again by several Vi∣cissitudes; calling Salomon and Isaiah to witness: To evade those Oppositions, that God has once been a Creator without a Creature; that he has had nothing to do, that he has contradicted that Va∣cancy, by putting his Hand to this VVork; and that consequently he is subject to Change. In the most famous of the Greek Schools, the World is taken for a God, made by another God greater

than he, and is composed of a Body and a Soul, fix'd in his Center, and dilating himself by musi∣cal-Numbers to his Circumference: Divine, infi∣nitely Happy, and infinitely Great, infinitely Wise and Eternal. In him are other Gods, the Sea, the Earth, the Stars, who entertain one another with a harmonious and perpetual Agitation, and divine Dance: Sometimes meeting, sometimes retiring from one another; concealing and disco∣vering themselves, changing their Order, one while before, and another behind. Heraclytus was positive that the World was composed of Fire, and by the order of Destiny was one Day to be enflam'd and consum'd in Fire, and then to be a∣gain renew'd.* 1.436 And Apuleius says of Men: Sigil∣latim mortales, cunctim perpetui. That they are Mor∣tal in particular, and Immortal in general. Alexan∣der writ to his Mother the Narration of an Egyp∣tian Priest drawn from their Monuments, testi∣fying the Antiquity of that Nation to be infinite, and comprizing the Birth and Progress of other Countries. Cicero and Diodorus say, that in their time the Chaldees kept a Register of four hundred thousand and odd Years. Aristotle, Pliny, and others, that Zoroaster flourished six thousand Years before Plato's time. Plato says, that they of the City of Sais have Records in Writing of eight thousand Years: And that the City of Athens was built a thousand Years before the said City of Sais. Epicurus, that at the same time things are here in the Posture we see, they are alike and in the same manner in several other Worlds. VVhich he would have delivered with greater Assurance, had he seen the Similitude and Con∣cordance of the new discovered VVorld of the

West-Indies, with ours present, and past in so many strange Examples. In earnest, considering what is arriv'd at our Knowledg from the Course of this terrestrial Policy, I have often wondred to see in so vast a Distance of Places and Times, such a Concurrence of so great a number of popu∣lar and wild Opinions, and of savage Manners and Beliefs, which by no means seem to proceed from our natural Meditation, Human VVit is a great VVorker of Miracles. But this Relation has moreover, I know not what of Extraordinary in it, 'tis found to be in Names also, and a thousand other things. For they found Nations there, (that for ought we know) never heard of us) where Circumcision was in use:* 1.437 VVhere there were States and strict Civil Goverments maintain'd by VVomen only, without Men: VVhere Feasts and Lent were represented, to which was added the Abstinence from VVomen: VVhere our Crosses were several ways in Repute: VVhere they were made use of to Honor and adorn their Sepultures, where they were erected, and namely that of St. Andrew,* 1.438 to protect themselves from Nocturnal Visions, and to lay upon the Cradles of the Infants against Inchantments: Elsewhere there was found one of VVood of very great Stature, which was ador'd for the God of Rain,* 1.439 and that a great way into the firm Land, where there was seen an ex∣press Image of our Shriving-Priests, with the use of Miters, the Coelibacy of Priests, the Art of Divi∣nation by the Entrails of Sacrific'd Beasts, Absti∣nence from all sorts of Flesh and Fish in their Diet, the manner of Priests Officiating in a particular and not a vulgar Language: And this Fancy, that the first God was dishonoured by a second, his

younger Brother: That they were Created with all sorts of Necessaries and Conveniences,* 1.440 which have since been taken from them for their Sins, their Territory chang'd, and their natural Con∣dition made worse: That they were of old over∣whelm'd by the Inundation of VVater from Heaven, that but few Families escaped, who retired into Caves of high Mountains, the Mouths of which they so stopp'd, that the Waters could not get in, having shut up, together with themselves, several sorts of Animals, that when they perceived the Rain to cease, they sent out Dogs, which returning clean and wet, they judg'd that the Water was not much abated: Afterward sending out others, and see∣ing them return durty, they issued out to re-peo∣ple the World, which they found only full of Serpents. In one place they met with the per∣suasion of a day of Judgment;* 1.441 insomuch that they were marvelously displeas'd at the Spaniards for discomposing the Bones of the Dead, in ri∣fling the Sepultures for Riches, saying that those Bones so disorder'd, could not easily rejoyn: The Traffick by Exchange, and no other way, Fairs and Markets for that end: Dwarfs and deform'd people for the Ornament of the Tables of Princes:* 1.442 The use of Falconry according to the Natures of their Hawks; tyrannical Subsidies: Curiosity in Gardens, Dances, tumbling Tricks, Musick of Instruments, Armories, Tennis Courts, Dice and Lotteries,* 1.443 wherein they are sometimes so eager and hot, as to stake and play themselves and their liberty: Physick, no otherwise, than by Charms: And the way of writing in Cipher: The belief of only one first Man, the Father of all Nations:

The Adoration of one God, who formerly liv'd a Man in perfect Virginity, Fasting and Penitence preaching the Law of Nature,* 1.444 and the Ceremonies of Religion; and that vanished from the World without a Natural Death: The Opinion of Gy∣ants; the Custom of making themselves drunk with their Beverages, and drinking to the utmost: The religious Ornaments painted with Bones and dead Mens Sculls: Surplices, Holy Water sprink∣led; Wives and Servants who present themselves with Emulation, to be burnt and interr'd with the dead Husband or Master: A Law by which the Eldest succeeds to all the Estate, no other Provision being made for the Younger, but Obe∣dience: The Custom that upon Promotion to a certain Office of great Authority, the Promoted is to take upon him a new Name, and to leave that he had before: Another to strew Lime up∣on the Knee of the New-born Child; with those Words, From Dust thou camest, and to Dust thou must return: As also the Art of Augury: These vain ••hadows of our Religion, which are obser∣vable in some of these Examples, are Testimonies of its Dignity and Divinity. Its is not only in some sort insinuated into all the Infidel Nations one this side of the World, by a certain Imitation, but into the fore-nam'd Barbarians also, as by a common and supernatural Inspiration: For we find there the Belief of Purgatory,* 1.445 but of a new Form; that which we give to the Fire, they give to the Cold, and imagine that the Souls are both purg'd and punish'd by the rigour of an excessive Coldness. And this Example puts me in mind of another pleasant diversity: For as there were in hat place some people, who, took a Pride to

strip and unmuffle the Glances of their Instruments and clipt off the Prepuce after the Mahometan and Jewish manner; there were others, who made so great conscience of laying it bare, that they carefully purs'd it up with little Strings, to keep that end from peeping into the Air. And of this other diversity, that whereas we to honour Kings and Festivals, put on the best Cloths we have: In some Religions to express their Dispa∣rity and Submission to their King, his Subjects present themselves before him in their vilest Ha∣bits, and entring his Palace, throw some old tat∣ter'd Garment over their better Apparel, to the end that all the Lustre and Ornament may solely remain in him. But to proceed; if Nature in∣close within the Bounds of her ordinary Progress, the Beliefs, Judgments and Opinions of Men, as well as all other things: If they have their Revo∣lution, their Season, their Birth and Death, like Cabage Plants: If the Heavens agitate and rule them at their pleasure, what Magisterial and Per∣manent Authority do we attribute to them? If we experimentally see, that the Form of our Be∣ing depends upon the Air, upon the Climat, and upon the Soile where we are born: And not on∣ly the Colour, the Stature, the Complexion and the Countenances, but moreover the very Fa∣culties of the Soul it self: Et plaga Caeli non solùm ad robur corporum,* 1.446 sed etiam animorum facit: The Climate is of great Efficacy, not only to the strength of Bodies, but to that of Souls also, says Vegetius: And that the Goddess who founded the City of Athens chose to scituate it in a temperature of Air fit to make Men prudent,* 1.447 as the Egyptian Priests told Solon: Athenis tenue Caelum: Ex quo etiam

cutiores putantur Attici: Crassum Thebis: Itaque pingues Thebani, & valentes: The Air of Athens is subtle and thin: From whence also the Athenians are reputed to be more acute: And at Thebes more gross and thick, wherefore the Thebans are look'd up∣on as more heavy-witted, and more strong: In such sort that as the Fruits and Animals differ, the Men should also be more or less warlike, just, tem∣perate and docile, here given to Wine, elsewhere to Theft or Uncleanness: Here inclin'd to Super∣stition; elsewhere to Miscreancy: In one place to Liberty, in another to Servitude; capable of one Science, or of one Art, Dull or Ingenious, Obedient or Mutinous, Good or Ill, according as the place where they are seated inclines them, and assume a new Complexion, if remov'd, like Trees: Which was the reason, why Cyrus would not grant the Persians leave to quit their rough and craggy Country to remove to another more pleasant and plain: Saying, that fertile and tender Soiles made Men effeminate and soft. If we see one while one Art, and one Belief flourish, and another while another, thorough some Celestial Influence: Such an Age to produce such Natures, and to incline Mankind to such and such a Pro∣pension: The Spirits of Men one while gay, and another grum; like our Feilds, what becomes of all those fine Prerogatives we so sooth our selves withal? Seeing that a wise Man may be mistaken, a hundred Men, a hundred Nations, nay that even Human Nature it self, as we believe, is ma∣ny Ages wide in one thing or another, what as∣surance have we that she sometimes is not mista∣ken, or not in this very Age of ours? Methinks, that amongst others Testimonies of our Imbecil∣lity,

this ought not to be forgotten, that Man cannot, by his own Wish and Desire, find out what is necessary for him, that not in Fruition only, but in Imagination and Wish, we cannot agree about what we would have to satisfie and content us. Let us leave it to our own Thought to cut out and make up at pleasure: It cannot so much as covet what is proper for it, and satisfie it self.

* 1.448—quid enim ratione timemus Aut cupimus? Quid tam dextro pede concipis, ut te Conatus non poeniteat, votique peracti?

For what with Reason does Man wish or fear, Or undertake upon a Ground so clear, That afterward he may not well repent Both the Attempt, and the desir'd Event.

And therefore it was,* 1.449 that Socrates beg'd nothing of the Gods, but what they knew to be best for him. And the both private and publick Prayers of the Lacedemonians were only simply to obtain good and useful things, referring the Choice and Election of them, to the Discretion of the Supream Power.

* 1.450Conjugium petimus, partumque Vxoris, at illis Notum qui pueri, qualisque futura sit Vxor.

We pray for Wives and Children, they above Know only when we have them, what they'l prove.

And Christians, pray to God, that his Will may be done: That they may not fall into the Inconvenience the Poet feigns of King Midas. He pray'd to the Gods, that all he touch'd might be turn'd into Gold: His Prayer was heard, his Wine was Gold, his Bread was Gold, and the Feathers of his Bed, his Shirt, and Clothes were turn'd into Gold; so that he found him∣self ruin'd and overwhelm'd with the Fruition of his Desire, and being inrich'd with an inollerable Wealth, was fain to unpray his Prayers:

Attonitus novitate mali divesque miserque,* 1.451 Effugere optat opes, & quae modo voverat odit.

Astonish'd at the strangeness of the ill, To be so rich, yet miserable still; He wishes now he could his wealth evade, And hates the thing for which before he pray'd.

To instance in my self; Being young, I desir'd of Fortune above all things the Order of St. Mi∣chel;* 1.452 which was then the utmost distinction of Honour amongst the French Nobless, and very rare. She pleasantly gratified my longing. Instead of raising me, and lifting me up from my own place to attain to it, she was much kinder to me, for she brought it so low, and made it so cheap, that It stoopt down to my Shoulders, and low∣er. Cleobis and Biton, Trophonius and Agamedes, having requested the first of their Goddess, the last of their God; a Recompence worthy of their Piety, had Death for a Reward: so differ∣ing are the heavenly Opinions concerning what is fit for us, from ours. God might grant us Ri∣ches, Honours, Life and Health sometimes to our own hurt: for every thing that is pleasing to us, is not always good for us, if he sends us Death, or an increase of Sickness instead of a Cure. Virga tua,* 1.453 & baculus tuus ipsa me consola∣ta sunt: Thy Rod, and thy Staff have comforted me: He does it by the Rule of his Providence, which better and more certainly discerns what is proper for us, than we can do; and we ought

to take it in good part, as coming from a wise, and most amicable Hand.

* 1.454Si consilium vis, Permittes ipsis expendera numinibus, quid Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris; Charior est illis homo, quàm sibi.

If thoul't be rul'd, leave to the Gods in Pray'rs To weigh what's fit for us, and our Affairs, For Man to them, by infinite degrees, Than he is to himself, far dearer is.

For to require Honours and Commands, is to require that he may throw you into a Battel, set you upon a cast at a Dice, or something of the like nature, whereof the issue is to you un∣known, and the Fruit doubtful. There is no so sharp and violent Dispute amongst the Philoso∣phers, as about the Question of the sovereign good of Man: From whence, by the calculati∣on of Varro▪ two hundred and fourscore Sects. Qui autem de summo bono dissentit,* 1.455 de tota Philo∣sophiae ratione disputat. For, whoever enters into Controversie concerning the supream good, disputes upon the whole reason of Philosophy.

* 1.456Tres mihi convivae prope dissentire videntur, Poscentes vario multum diversa palato, Quid dem? Quid non dem? renuis tu quod jubet alter: Quod petis, id sanè est invisum, acidumque duobus.

T'invite three Guests of differing Palate home To a Man's Table, sure is troublesom; What one likes, thou dislik'st: What shall I do? And what thou lik'st, dislikes the other two.

Nature should say the same to their Contests and Debates. Some say that our well being lies in Vertue, others in Pleasure, others in our submitting to Nature: one in Knowledge, an∣other in being exempt from Pain, another in not suffering our selves to be carried away by Ap∣parences: and this Fancy seems to have some re∣lation to that of the Ancient Pythagoras.

Nil admirari propè res est una Numaci,* 1.457 Solaque quae possit facere, & servare beatum.

Nothing t'admire's the only thing I know Can make us happy, and can keep us so.

Which is the drift of the Pyrrhonian Sect. Aristotle attributes the admiring of nothing to Magnanimity. And Archesilaus said, that Con∣stancy, and a right and inflexible state of Judg∣ment, were the true Goods: but that consent, and application the Evils; and there it is true, in being thus positive, and establishing it by a certain Axiome, he quitted Pyrrhonism. For the Pyrrhonians, when they say that the Ataraxy, which is the immobility of Judgment, is the so∣vereign Good; do not design to speak it affir∣matively;

but that the same motion of Soul which makes them avoid Precipices, and take shelter from the old, presents them such a Fancy, and makes them refuse another. How much do I wish, that whilst I live, either some other, or Justus Lipsius,* 1.458 the most learned Man now li∣ving, of a most polite and judicious Under∣standing, and truly resembling my Turnebus; had both the Will, and Health, and Leisure sufficient, sincerely to collect into a Register, according to their Divisions and Classes, as many as are to be found of the Opinions of the ancient Philoso∣phers, about the subject of our Being and Manners, their Controversies, the Succession and Reputation of Sects; with the Application of the Lives of the Authors and their Disciples to their own Precepts in memorable Accidents, and upon exemplary Occasions. What a beau∣tiful and useful Work that would be! As to what remains, if it be from our selves that we are to extract the Rules of our Manners, upon what a Confusion do we throw our selves? For that which our Reason advises us to, as the most probable, is generally for every one to obey the Laws of his Country, as it was that of Socrates, inspir'd, as he pretends himself, by a Divine Council. And by that what would it say, if not that our Duty has no other Rule but what is accidental? Truth ought to have alike and universal Visage: If man could know Equity and Justice, that it had a Body and a true Be∣ing, he would not fetter it to the Conditions of this Country or that; it would not be from

the whimsies of the Persians or Indians that Vertue would receive its Form. There is no∣thing more subject to perpetual Agitation than the Laws. Since the time that I was born, I have known those of the English, our Neigh∣bours, three or four times chang'd, not only in matters of Civil Regiment, which is the only thing wherein Constancy is dispensed with, but in the most important Subject that can be, namely Religion. At which I am the more trou∣bled, and of which I am the more ashamed, be∣cause it is a Nation, with whom those of my Province have formerly had so great Familiarity and Acquaintance; that there yet remains in my House some footsteps of our ancient Kindred. And here with us at home, I have known a thing that was Capital, to become Lawful; and we that hold others are likewise according to the chance of War, in a possibility of being found one day guilty of High-Treason, both Divine and Humane; should the Justice of our Arms fall into the Power of Injustice: and after a few years Possession, taking a quite contrary Being.* 1.459 How could that antient God more clearly accuse the ignorance of humane Knowledge con∣cerning the Divine Being, and give men to un∣derstand, that their Religion was but a thing of their own Contrivance, useful as a bound to their Society, than in declaring as he did to those who came to his Tripod for Instruction: that every ones true Worship was that which he found in Use in the place where he chanc'd to be? O God, what infinite Obligation have we

to the bounty of our Sovereign Creator, for ha∣ving disabus'd our Belief from wandring and ar∣bitrary Devotions, and for having seated it up∣on the eternal foundation of the Holy Word? But what will then Philosophy say to us in this necessity? Why, that we follow the Laws of our Country, that is to say, this floating Sea of the Opinions of a Republick, or a Prince, that will paint out Justice for me in as many co∣lours, and reform it as many ways as there are changes of Passions in themselves. I cannot suffer my Judgement to be so flexible. What a kind of bounty is that which I shall see one day in repute, and that too morrow shall be in none, and that the crossing of a River shall be made a Crime? What Truth is it that these Mountains impale, and keep it from the World beyond them? But they are pleasant, when to give some certainty to the Laws,* 1.460 they say, that there are some firm, perpetual, and immovea∣ble, which they call Natural, that are imprint∣ed in humane kind by the condition of their own proper Being, and those some reckon three, some four, some more, and some less, a sign that it is a mark as doubtful as the rest. Now they are so unfortunate (for what can I call it else but misfortune) that of so infinite a number of Laws, there should not be found one at least, that Fortune, and the temerity of Chance, has suf∣fered to be universally received by the consent of all Nations? They are, I say, so miserable, that of these three or four select Laws, there is not so much as one that is not contradicted and

disowned, not only by one Nation but by ma∣ny. Now the only likely sign by which they can argue or infer some Laws to be Natural, is, the universality of Approbation; for we should without doubt follow that which Nature had truly ordain'd us; and not only every Nation, but every particular man would resent the Force and Violence that any one should do him, who would tempt him to any thing contrary to this Law. Let them produce me but one of this Con∣dition: Protagoras and Aristo, gave no other Essence to the Justice of Laws, than the Authori∣ty and Opinion of the Legislator, and, that these laid aside, the honest and the good would lose their Qualities, and remain empty Names of indifferent things. Thrasymachus in Plato is of Opinion, that there is no other Right but the Convenience of the Superiour. There is not any thing wherein the World is so various, as in Laws and Customs; such a thing is abominable here, which is elsewhere in Esteem, as in La∣cedemonia, the dexterity of stealing. Marriages within the forbidden Degrees are capitally in∣terdicted amongst us, they are else-where in Honour.

Gentes esse feruntur,* 1.461 In quibus & nato genitrix, & nata Parenti, Jungitur, & pietas geminato crescit amore.

There are some Nations in the World, 'tis said, Where Fathers Daughters, Sons their Mothers wed,

And their affections still do higher rise More firm and constant by these double ties.

The murther of Infants, murther of Fathers, communication of Wives, traffick of Robberies, licence in all sorts of Voluptuousness: Finally, there is nothing so extream, that is not allowed by the Custom, and the common Usance of some Nation or other. It is credible, that there are natural Laws, but they are lost in us; this fine humane Reason every where so insinuating it self to govern and command, as to shuffle and confound the face of things, according to it's own vanity and inconstancy. Nihil itaque am∣plius nostrum est; quod nostrum dico, artis est. Therefore nothing is any more truly ours: what we call ours belongs to Art. Subjects have divers lusters, and divers considerations; and from thence the diversity of Opinions principally proceed. One Nation considers a Subject in one aspect, and stops there, another takes it from another pro∣spect. There is nothing of greater horror to be imagin'd, than for a man to eat his Father; and yet the People, whose ancient Custom it was so to do, look'd upon it as a testimony of Piety and natural Affection, seeking thereby to give their Progenitors the most worthy and honora∣ble Sepulture; storing up in themselves, and as it were in their own Marrow,* 1.462 the Bodies and Relicks of their Fathers; and in some sort re∣generating them by Transmutation into their Living flesh, by means of nourishment and di∣gestion. It is easie to consider what a Cruelty

and Abomination it must have appear'd to be to men possest, and imbute with this superstition, to throw their Fathers remains to the corruption of the Earth, and the nourishment of Beasts and Worms. Lycurgus consider'd in Theft,* 1.463 the vi∣vacity, diligence, boldness, and dexterity, of purloining any thing from our Neighbours, and the Utility that redounded to the Publick, that every one might look more narrowly to the conservation of what was his own, and belie∣ved, that from his double Institution of Assault∣ing and Defending, advantage was to be made for Military Discipline (which was the princi∣pal Science and Vertue, to which he would in∣ure that Nation) of greater consideration than the disorder and injustice of taking another man's Goods. Dionysius the Tyrant, offered Plato a Robe of the Persian fashion, long,* 1.464 da∣mask'd, and perfum'd, Plato refus'd it, saying, That being born a man, he would not willingly dress himself in Womans Cloths; but Aristippus accepted it, with this Answer, That no Accou∣strement could corrupt a chast Courage. His Friends reproaching him with meanness of Spirit, for laying it no more to heart, that Dionysius had spit in his Face; Fisher-men, said he, suffer themselves to be dash'd with the waves of the Sea from head to foot to catch a Gudgeon. Diogenes was washing Cabidges, and seeing him pass by; If thou couldst live on Cabidge, said he, thou wouldst not fawn upon a Tyrant. To whom Aristip∣pus replied; And if thou knewest how to live amongst men, thou wouldst not be washing Cabidges. Thus

Reason finds apparence for divers effects. 'Tis a Pot with two Ears, that a man may take by the right or left.

* 1.465bellum o terra hospiti portas, Bello armantur equi, bellum haec armenta minantur: Sed tamen iidem olim curru succedere sueti Quadrupedes, & fraena jugo concordia ferre, Spes est pacis.

O Earth, it is thy Womb, that War does bear, Horses are arm'd for; Heards does threaten War: And yet these Brutes having with patience bore The yoak, and yielded to the Reins before There's hopes of Peace.

* 1.466Solon, being importun'd by his Friends not to shed powerless and unprofitable Tears for the death of his Son: It is for that reason, that I the more justly shed them, said he, because they are powerless and unprofitable.* 1.467 Socrates his Wife, ex∣asperated her grief by this Circumstance, Oh, how unjustly do these wicked Judges put him to Death! Why, replied he, hadst thou rather they should justly execute me? We have our Ears bor'd; the Greeks look'd upon that as a mark of slave∣ry. We retire in private to enjoy our Wives, the Indians do it in publick: The Scythians im∣molated Strangers in their Temples, elsewhere Temples were a Refuge.

* 1.468Inde furor vulgi, quod numina vicinorum Odit quisque locus, cum solos credat habendos Esse Deos; quos ipse colit.

This 'tis the popular Fury that creates, That all their Neighbours Gods each Nation hates. And that the more, because conceive they do None but their own should be reputed so.

I have heard of a Judge, that where he met with a sharp conflict betwixt Bartolus and Bal∣dus, and some point controverted with many Contrarieties, writ in the Margent of his Book; A question for a Friend, that is to say, that Truth was there so controverted and disputed, that in a like Cause he might favour which of the Par∣ties he thought fit: 'Twas only for want of wit, that he did not write, A question for a Friend, throughout. The Advocates and Judges of our times, find Biass enough in all Causes to accom∣modate them to what they themselves think fit: In so infinite a Science, depending upon the au∣thority of so many Opinions, and so arbitrary a Subject, it cannot be, but that of necessity, an extream confusion of Judgements must arise. There is also hardly any Suit so clear, wherein Opinions do not very much differ; what one Court has determin'd, another determines quite contrary, and it self contrary to that at another time. Of which we see very frequent Examples, which is a marvellous blemish to the Ceremoni∣ous Authority and lustre of our Justice, not to stick to positive Sentences, but to run from Judge to Judge, and Court to Court, to decide one and the same Cause. As to the liberty of

Philosophical Opinions concerning Vice and Vertue, 'tis not necessary to be insisted upon; and wherein are found many Opinions that are better conceal'd than publish'd to weak Spirits: Archesilaus said, that in Fornication it was no matter where, or with whom it was committed. Et obscoenas voluptates,* 1.469 si natura requirit, non ge∣nere, aut loco, aut ordine, sed forma, aetate, figu∣ra metiendas Epicurus putat, ne amores quidem sanctos à sapiente alienos esse arbitrantur. Quaera∣mus ad quum usque aetatem juvenes amandi sint. And obscene Pleasures, if nature requires, Epicu∣rus thinks are not to be measur'd, either by kind, place, or order, but by Age and Beauty. Neither are Holy Loves thought to be stranger to wise Men; we are to enquire till what age young men are to be lov'd. These two last Stoical Quotations, and the reproach that Diogarchus threw in the teeth of Plato himself upon this Account, shew how much the soundest Philosophy indulges Licen∣ces and Excess, very remote from the common Usance. Laws derive their Authority from Pos∣session and Usance: 'Tis dangerous to trace them backward to their beginning; they grow great, and ennoble themselves like our Rivers by run∣ning,* 1.470 but follow them upward to their Source, 'tis but a little Spring, scarce discernable, that swells thus, and thus fortifies it self by growing old. Do but consult the ancient Considerations that gave the first motion to this famous Torrent so full of Dignity and Reverence; you will find them so light and weak, that it is no wonder if these People, who weigh and reduce every

thing to Reason, and who admit nothing by Authority, or upon Trust; have their Judge∣ments very remote and differing from those of the Publick. It is no wonder if People, who take their pattern from the first Image of Nature, should in most of their Opinions swerve from the common path: As for Example, few amongst them would have approv'd of the strict Conditi∣ons of our Marriages, and most of them have been for having Wives in Common, and without Obli∣gation: They would refuse our Ceremonies. Chrysippus said, that a certain Philosopher would have made a dozen Somersaults, and turn'd up his Tail without his Breeches, for a dozen of Olives. That Philosopher would hardly have advis'd Calisthenes to have refus'd Hippoclides the fair Agarista his Daughter, for having seen him stand on his Head upon a Table. Metrocles let a Fart a little indiscreetly in Disputation, in the presence of a great Auditory in his School, and kept himself hid in his own House for shame, till Crates comming to visit him, and adding to his Consolations and Reasons, the Example of his own Liberty, falling to Fart with him who should let most, cur'd him of that scruple, and withall drew him to his own Stoical Sect, more free than that more reserv'd one of the Peripa∣teticks, of which he had been till then. That which we call Decency, not to dare to do that in publick which it is decent enough to do in private, the Stoicks call foppery, and to mince it, and be so modest as to conceal and disown what Nature, Custom, and our desires publish

and proclaim of our Actions, they reputed a Vice. The other thought it was to undervalue the mysteries of Venus, to draw them out of her private Oratory, to expose them to the view of the People: And that to bring them out from behind the Curtain, was to loose them. Mo∣desty is a thing of weight; Secresie, Reservation, and Circumscription are Parts of Esteem. Plea∣sure did very ingeniously, when under the visor of Virtue, she sued not to be prostituted in the open Streets, trodden under foot, and exposed to the publick View, wanting the dignity and con∣venience of her private Cabinets. Hence some say, that to put down publick Stews, is not only to disperse Fornication into all Places that was a sign for one, but moreover, by the difficulty, to incite wild and wanton People to this Vice.

Moechus es Aufidiae qui vir Corvine fuisti, * 1.471Rivalis fuerat qui tuus ille vir est. Cur altena placet tibi, quae tua non placet Vxor? Nunquid securus non potes arrigere?

This Experience diversifies it self in a thousand Examples.

Nullus in Vrbe fuit tota, qui tangere vellet Vxorem gratis Caeciliane tuam, * 1.472Dum licuit: sed nunc positis custodibus, ingens Turba fututorum est. Ingeniosus homo es.

A Philosopher being taken in the very act, and askt what he was doing, coldly reply'd, I

am planting a Man; no more blushing to be so caught, than if they had found him planting Garlick. It is, I suppose, out of tenderness and respect to the natural Modesty of Mankind, that a great and religious Author is of Opinion, that this act is so necessarily bound to Privacy and Shame, that he cannot persuade himself there could be any absolute performance in those im∣pudent embraces of the Cynicks,* 1.473 but that they only made it their Business to represent the las∣civious Gestures of Lust; to maintain the impu∣dence of their Schools Profession, and that to eject what Shame had with-held, it was afterward ne∣cessary for them to withdraw into the Shade. But he had not thoroughly examined their De∣bauches, for Diogenes, playing the beast with himself in publick, wish'd in the presence of all that saw him, that he could fill his Belly by that Exercise. To those who ask'd him why he did not find out a more commodious place to eat in, than the open Street; he made answer, because I am hungry in the open Street. The Wo∣men Philosophers, who mixt with their Sect, mixt also with their Persons in all Places with∣out Reservation: and Hipparchia was not re∣ceived into Crates his Society, but upon Condi∣tion, that she should in all things follow the Usances and Customs of his Rule. These Phi∣losophers set a great price upon Vertue, and renounce all other Discipline but the Moral: and yet in all their Actions, they attributed the Sovereign Authority to the Election of their Sage, and above the Laws, and gave no other

curb to Voluptuousness, but Moderation on∣ly, and the Conservation of the Liberty of others. Heraclitus and Protagoras, forasmuch as Wine seem'd bitter to the Sick, and plea∣sant to the sound, the Rudder crook'd in the Water, and strait when out, and such like contrary apparences as are found in Subjects, argued from thence, that all Subjects had in themselves the Causes of these Apparences; and that there was some bitterness in the Wine, which had some sympathy with the sick man's Taste, and the Rudder some bending Quality, sympathizing with him that looks upon it in the Water. And so of all the rest, which is to say, that all is in all things, and consequently no∣thing in any one, for where all is there is no∣thing. This Opinion put me in mind of the Ex∣perience we have, that there is no sence nor as∣pect of any thing whether bitter or sweet, strait or crooked, that humane Wit does not find out in the Writings he undertakes to tumble over. Into the cleanest, purest, and most perfect Speak∣ing that can possibly be,* 1.474 how many Lyes and Falsities have we suggested? What Heresie has not there found Ground and Testimony suffici∣ent to make it self embrac'd and defended? 'Tis for this, that the Authors of such Errors will never depart from proof of the Testimony of the interpretation of Words. A Person of Dig∣nity, who would prove to me by Authority, the search of the Philosophers Stone,* 1.475 wherein he was over head and ears ingag'd; alledg'd to me at last five or six Passages in the Bible, upon

which he said he first founded his attempt, for the discharge of his Conscience; (for he is a Di∣vine) and in truth the Invention was not only pleasant, but moreover very well accomodated to the Defence of this fine Science. By this way the Reputation of divining Fables is acquir'd. There is no Fortune-teller, if he have this Au∣thority, but, if a Man will take the Pains to tumble and toss, and narrowly to peep into all the folds and glosses of his Words, he may make him, like the Sibils, say what he will. There are so many ways of Interpretation, that it will be hard but that, either obliquely, or in a di∣rect Line, an ingenious Wit will find out in every Subject, some Air that will serve for his Purpose. Therefore there is a cloudy and am∣biguous Stile in this so frequent and antient use; let the Author but make himself Master of that, he may attract and busie Posterity about his Predictions; which not only his own Parts, but the accidental Favour of the Matter it self, may as much or more assist him to obtain. That, as to the rest, he express himself after a foolish, or a subtle manner, whether obscurely, or contra∣dictorily, 'tis no matter; a number of Wits shaking and sifting him, will bring out a great many several Forms, either according to his meaning, or collateral, or contrary to it, which will all redound to his Honour. He will see himself enrich'd by the means of his Disciples, like the Regents of Colledges, by their Pupils yearly Presents. This is it which has given Re∣putation to many things of no worth at all;

that has brought several Writings in Vogue, and given them the Fame of containing all sorts of Matter can be desir'd; one and the same thing receiving a thousand and a thousand Images and various Considerations, nay, even as many as we please. Is it possible that Homer could design to say all that we make him: and that he design'd so many, and so various Figures, as that the Di∣vines, Law-givers, Captains, Philosophers, and all sorts of Men who treat of Sciences,* 1.476 how vari∣ously and oppositely soever, should indifferent∣ly quote him, and support their Arguments by his Authority, as the Sovereign Lord and Ma∣ster of all Offices, Works and Artizans, and Councellor General of all Enterprizes? Who∣ever has had occasion for Oracles and Predicti∣ons, has there found sufficient to serve his turn. 'Tis a Wonder how many, and how admirable Concurrences an intelligent Person, and a par∣ticular Friend of mine, has there found out in Favour of our Religion; and cannot easily be put out of the Conceit that it was Homer's De∣sign: and yet he is as well acquainted with this Author, as any Man whatever of his Time. And what he has found out in Favour of ours, very many anciently have found in Favour of theirs. Do but observe how Plato is tumbled and tost, every one ennobling his own Opinions by ap∣plying him to himself, make him take what side they please. They draw him in, and engage him in all the new Opinions the World receives; and make him, according to the different course of things, differ from himself: every one makes

him according to his own Sense, the Manners and Customs lawful in his Age, because they are unlawful in ours; and all this with Vivaci∣ty and Power, according to the force and sprite∣liness of the Wit of the Interpreter. From the same Foundation that Heraclitus and this Sen∣tence of his had, That all things had in them those forms that we discern'd, Democritus drew a quite contrary conclusion; namely, That Subjects had nothing at all in them of what we there find: and that forasmuch as Honey is sweet to one, and bitter to another, he thence argued, that it was neither sweet nor bitter. The Pyrrhonians would say, that they knew not whether it is sweet or bitter, or neither the one or the other, or both; for those always gain the highest point of Dubitation. The Cyrenaicks held, that nothing was perceptible from without, and that that only was perceptible, that internally touch'd us, as Grief and Pleasure; acknowledging neither Sound, nor Colour, but certain Affections only that we receive from them, and that mans Judg∣ment had no other Seat. Protagoras believ'd, that what seem'd to every one was true to every one. The Epicureans lodg'd all Judgment in the Sen∣ses, and in the Knowledge of things, and in Pleasure. Plato would have the Judgment of Truth, and Truth it self deriv'd from Opinions, and the Senses to appertain to the Wit and Co∣gitation. This Discourse put me upon the Con∣sideration of the Senses, in which lies the great∣est Foundation and Proof of our Ignorance. Whatsoever is known, is doubtless known by

the Faculty of the knower; for seeing the Judg∣ment proceeds from the Operation of him that judges, 'tis Reason that this Operation performs it by his means, and will not by the constraint of another; as it would happen, if we knew things by the Power, and according to the Law of their Essence. Now all Knowledge is con∣vey'd to us by the Senses, they are our Ma∣sters:

—via qua munita fidei * 1.477Proxima fert humanum in pectus, templaque mentis.

It is the surest Path that Faith can find By which to enter humane Heart, and Mind.

Science begins by them, and is resolved into them. After all, we should know no more than a Stone, if we did not know that there is Sound, Odour, Light, Taste, Measure, Weight, Softness, Hardness, Sharpness, Colour, Smoothness, Breadth and Depth. These are the Platform and Princi∣ples of all the Structure of all our Knowledge. And, according to some Science, is nothing else but Sense. He that could make me contradict the Senses, would have me by the Throat, he could not make me go further back. The Senses are the beginning and the end of humane Know∣ledge.

* 1.478Invenies primus ab sensibus esse creatam Notitiam veri, neque sensus posse refelli. Quid majore fide porro quam sensus haberi Debet?

You'll find of Truth, that all discoveries made, Are first by Senses to the Soul convey'd; Neither will Sense be baffled, and on what Can we rely more safely than on that?

Let us attribute to them the least we can, we must however of necessity grant them this, that it is by their means and mediation that all our Instruction is directed. Cicero says, that Chry∣sippus, having attempted to extenuate the force and vertue of Senses, presented to himself Ar∣guments, and so vehement Oppositions to the contrary, that he could not be satisfied in him∣self therein: Whereupon Carneades, who main∣tain'd the contrary side, boasted, that he would make use of the same Words and Arguments that Chrysippus had done, with them to contro∣vert and confute him, and therefore thus cried out against him: O Miserable! thy force has destroy'd thee. There can be nothing absurd to a greater Degree, than to maintain that Fire does not warm, that Light does not shine, and, that there is no weight nor solidity in Iron, which are Advertisements convey'd to us by the Sen∣ses; neither is there Belief nor Knowledge in Man, that can be compar'd to that for certain∣ty. The first Consideration I have upon the Subject of the Senses is,* 1.479 that I make a doubt whether or no Man be furnish'd with all natu∣ral Senses. I see several Animals who live an en∣tire and perfect Life, some without Sight, others without Hearing: Who knows whether to us

also, one, two, or three, or many other Senses may not be wanting? For if any one be wan∣ting, our Examination cannot discover the de∣fect. 'Tis the priviledge of the Senses to be the utmost limit of our discovery: There is no∣thing beyond them that can assist us in Explo∣ration, not so much as one Sense in the disco∣very of another.

* 1.480An poterunt oculos aures reprehendere, an aures Tactus, an hunc porro tactum sapor arguet oris, An confutabunt nares, oculive revincent?

Can Ears the Eyes, the Touch the Ears correct; Or is that Touch by Tasting to be check'd: Or th' other Senses shall the Nose, or Eyes Confute in their peculiar faculties?

They all make the extreamest limits of our abi∣lity.

— seorsum cuique potestas * 1.481Divisa est, sua vis cuique est.

Each has it's power distinctly, and alone And every Sense's power is it's own.

It is impossible to make a man, naturally blind, conceive that he does not see, impossible to make him desire Sight, or to be sensible of his defect. For which Reason, we ought not to derive any assurance from the Soul's being contented and satisfied with those we have: considering that it cannot be sensible herein of it's Infirmity and Im∣perfection,

if there be any such thing. It is im∣possible to say any thing to this blind Man, ei∣ther by Argument or Similitude, that can pos∣sess his Imagination with any Apprehension of Light, Colour, or Sight. There nothing remains behind that can push on the Senses to Evidence. Those that are born Blind, whom we hear to wish they could see, it is not that they under∣stand what they desire: They have learn'd from us that they want something, that there is some∣thing to be desired that we have, which they can name indeed, and speak of it's Effects and Consequence, but yet they know not what it is, nor apprehend it not at all. I have seen a Gen∣tleman of a good Family, who was born Blind, or at least Blind from such an Age that he knows not what Sight is; who is so little sensible of his defect, that he makes use as we do of Words proper for Seeing, and applies them after a man∣ner wholly particular, and his own. They brought him a Child to which he was Godfa∣ther, which having taken into his Arms: Good God (said he) what a fine Child is this, how beautiful to look upon, what a pretty Face it has! He will say, like one of us, this Room has a ve∣ry fine Prospect, it is clear Weather, the Sun shines bright. And moreover, being that Hunting, Tennis, and Butts, are our Exercises, and that he has heard so, he has taken a liking to them, will Ride a Hunting; and believes he has as good a share of the Sport as we have; and will express himself as angry or pleas'd as the best of us all, and yet knows nothing of it, but by the

Ear. One cries out to him, here's a Hare, when he is upon some even Plain where he may safely Ride; and afterwards, when they tell him the Hare is kill'd, he will be as overjoy'd, and proud of it, as he hears others say they are. He will take a Tennis Ball in his left hand, and strike it away with the Racket: He will shoot with a Musket at random, and is contented with what his People tell him, that he is over or wide. Who knows whether all humane kind commit not the like absurdity, for want of some Sense, and that through this Default, the great∣est part of the face of things is conceal'd from us? What do we know but that the difficulties which we find in several effects of Animals which exceed our Capacity, are not produc'd by facul∣ty of some sense that we are defective in? And whether some of them have not by this means a Life more full and entire than ours? We seize an Apple as it were with all our Senses: We there find Redness, Smoothness, Odour, and Sweetness: But it may have other Vertues be∣sides these, as to heat, or bind, which no sense of ours can have any reference unto. Is it not likely that there are sensitive faculties in Nature that are fit to judge of, and to discern those which we call the occult Proprieties in several things, as for the Load-stone to attract Iron; and that the want of such faculties is the cause that we are ignorant of the true Essence of such things? 'Tis peradventure some particular Sense that gives Cocks to understand what hour it is of Mid∣night, and when it grows to be towards Day, and

that makes them to Crow accordingly; that teaches Chickens, before they have any Experi∣ence of what they are, to fear a Spar-hawk, and not a Goose, or a Peacock, though Birds of a much larger Size: That cautions them of the hostil Quality the Cat has against them, and makes them not to fear a Dog: To arm themselves a∣gainst the meawing (a kind of flattering Voice) of the one, and not against the barking, a shrill, and threatning Voice of the other. That teach∣es Wasps, Ants, and Rats, to fall upon the best Pear, and the best Cheese, before they have tasted them, and inspires the Stag, Elephant, and Ser∣pents, with the knowledge of a certain Herb proper for their Cure. There is no Sense that has not a mighty Dominion, and that does not by it's power introduce an infinite number of Knowledges. If we were defective in the intel∣ligence of sounds of Musick, and of the Voice, it would cause an inimaginable confusion in all the rest of our Science. For, besides what ap∣pertains to the proper effect of every Sense, how many Arguments, Consequences, and Conclusi∣ons do we draw to other things, by comparing one Sense with another? Let an Understand∣ing Man imagine humane Nature originally pro∣duc'd without the Sense of Seeing, and consider what Ignorance and Trouble such a Defect would bring upon him, what a Darkness, and Blindness in the Soul; he will then see by that of how great Importance to the knowledge of Truth, the privation of such another Sense, or of two, or three, should we be so depriv'd, would be. We

have form'd a Truth by the Consultation and Concurrence of our five Senses, but peradven∣ture, we should have the consent and contribu∣tion of eight or ten, to make a certain discovery of our own Being. The Sects that controvert the Knowledge of man, do it principally by the in∣certainty and weakness of our Senses. For since all Knowledge is by their means and mediation convey'd unto us, if they fail in their report, if they corrupt, or alter what they bring us from without, if the Light which by them creeps in∣to the Soul be obscur'd in the passage, we have nothing else to hold by. From this extream dif∣ficulty all these fancies proceed, that every sub∣ject has all we there find in it self: That it has nothing in it of what we think we there find; and that of the Epicureans, that the Sun is no bigger than 'tis judg'd by our sight to be:

* 1.482Quicquid id est nihilo fertur majore figura, Quàm nostris oculis quam cernimus esse videtur.

But be it what it will in our esteems, It is no bigger than to us it seems.

That the apparences, which represent a Body great to him that is near, and less to him that is more remote, are both true:

Nec tamen hic oculis falli concedimus hilum; * 1.483Proinde animi vitium hoc oculis adsingere noli.

Yet that the Eye's deluded we deny; Charge not the Soul's fault therefore on the eye.

and resolutely, that there is no deceit in the Senses; that we are to lye at their Mercy, and seek elsewhere Reasons to salve and excuse the Difference and Contradictions we there find; even to the inventing of Lyes and other slams, (if it come to that) rather than accuse the Sen∣ses. Timagoras vow'd, that by pressing or tur∣ning his Eye, he could never perceive the light of the Candle to double, and that the seeming so, proceeded from the Vice of Opinion, and not from the Instrument. The most absurd of all the Epicureans Absurdities, is, in denying the force and effect of the Senses.

Proinde quod in quoque est his visum tempore, verum est.* 1.484 Et si non potuit ratio dissolvere causam, Cur ea quae fuerint juxtim quadrata, procul sint Visa rotunda: tamen praestat rationis egentem Reddere mendose causas utriusque figurae, Quam manibus manifesta suis emittere quoquam, Et violare fidem primam, & convellere tota Fundamenta, quibus nixatur vita salusque. Non modo enim ratio ruat omnis, vita quoque ipsa. Concidat extemplo, nisi credere sensibus ausis, Praecipitesque locos vitare, & caetera quae sint In genere hoc fugienda.

Whatever, and whenever seen, is true, And if our Reason can't the Knot undoe, Why things seem to be square when very near, And at a greater distance round appear;

'Tis better yet for him that's at a pause To give of either Figure a false cause, Than to permit things manifest to go Out of his Hands, to give the lye unto His first belief, and the Foundations rend On which all Life and Safety do depend. For not alone Reason, but Life and all Together will with sudden Ruin fall; Unless we dare our Senses trust to miss The danger of a dreadful precipice, And other such like Dangers, that with Care And Wariness to be evaded are.

This so desperate and unphilosophical Advice, expresses only this, that humane Knowledge cannot support it self but by Reason, that is un∣reasonable, foolish and mad; but that it is yet better, that man, to set a greater value upon himself, make use of any other Remedy, how fantastick soever, than to confess his necessary Ignorance; a truth so disadvantageous to him. He cannot avoid owning, that the Senses are the sovereign Lords of his Knowledge; but they are uncertain, and falsifiable in all Cir∣cumstances. 'Tis there that he is to fight it out to the last; and if his just Forces fail him, as they do, to supply that Defect with Obstinacy, Te∣merity and Impudence. In case that what the Epicureans say be true, viz. That we have no Knowledge if the Senses apparences be false; and if that also be true, which the Stoicks say, That the apparences of the Senses are so false, that they can furnish us with no manner of Knowledge:

We shall conclude, to the Disadvantage of these two great Dogmatical Sects, that there is no Science at all. As to what concerns the Error and uncertainty of the Operation of the Senses, every one may furnish himself with as many ex∣amples as he pleases; so ordinary are the Faults and Tricks they put upon us. In the Eccho of a Valley, the sound of the Trumpet seems to meet us, which comes from a place behind.

Extantesque procul medio de gurgite montes* 1.485 Idem apparent longè diversi licet. Et fugere ad puppim colles, campique videntur Quos agimus propter Navim.

And Rocks i'th Seas that proudly raise their Head,* 1.486 Tho far disjoyn'd, tho Royal Navies spread Their Sails between; yet if from distance shown, They seem an Island all combin'd in one. Thus Ships, though driven by a prosperous Gale, Seem fixt to Saylors, those seem under Sail That ride at Anchor safe; and all admire, As they row by, to see the Rocks retire.

—Vbi in medio nobis equus acer obhaesit* 1.487 Flumine, equi corpus transversum ferre videtur Vis, & in adversum Flumen contrudere raptim.

Thus, when in rapid Streams my Horse hath stood, And I look'd downward on the rowling Flood;* 1.488

Though he stood still, I thought he did divide The headlong Streams, & strive against the Tide, And all things seem'd to move on every side.

Like a Musket Bullet, under the Fore-finger, the middle Finger being lap'd over it, which feels so like two, that a Man will have much ado to persuade himself there is but one; the end of the two Fingers feeling each of them one at the same time. For that the Senses are very often Masters of our Reason, and constrain it to receive Impressions which it judges and knows to be false, is frequently seen. I set aside the Sense of feeling, that has its Functions nearer, more lively and substantial; that so often by the effect of the Pains it helps the Body to, subverts and overthrows all those fine Stoical Resolutions, and compells him to cry out of his Belly, who has resolutely establish'd this Doctrine in his Soul, that the Cholick, and all other Pains and Diseases are indifferent things; not having the Power to abate any thing of the Sovereign Felicity, wherein the wise man is seated by his Vertue. There is no Heart so effeminate, that the rattle and sound of our Drums and Trumpets will not enflame with Courage; nor so sullen, that the Harmony of our Musick will not rouse and cheer; nor so stubborn Soul, that will not feel it self struck with some Reverence, in considering the gloomy vastness of our Chur∣ches, the variety of Ornaments, and Order of our Ceremonies, and to hear the solemn Musick of our Organs, and the Grace and devout Har∣mony

of our Voices. Even those that come in with Contempt, feel a certain shivering in their Hearts, and something of dread that makes them begin to doubt their Opinions. For my part, I do not think my self strong enough to hear an Ode of Horace or Catullus Sung by a beautiful young Mouth without emotion. And Zeno had reason to say,* 1.489 That the Voice was the flower of Beauty. One would once make me believe, that a certain Person, whom all we Frenchmen know, had impos'd upon me, in re∣peating some Verses that he had made; that they were not the same upon the Paper that they were in the Air, and that my Eyes would make a contrary Judgement to my Ears: So great a Power has Pronuntiation to give fashion and value to Works that are left to the Effica∣cy and Modulation of the Voice. And there∣fore Philoxenus was not so much too blame, hearing one give an ill Accent to some Compo∣sition of his, for spurning and breaking certain Earthen Vessels of his, saying, I break what is thine, because thou corrupt'st what is mine. To what end did those Men, who have with a posi∣tive Resolution destroy'd themselves, turn away their Faces that they might not see the blow that was by themselves appointed? and that those, who for their Health desire and command Incisions to be made, and Cauteries to be ap∣plied to them, cannot endure the sight of the Pre∣parations, Instruments, and Operations of the Chyrurgeon; being that the Sight is not any way to participate in the Pain? Are not these

proper Examples to verifie the authority the Senses have over the Imagination? 'Tis to much purpose that we know these Tresses were bor∣row'd from a Page, or a Lacquey; that this Ver∣milion came from Spain, and this Cerus from the Ocean Sea: our Sight will nevertheless compell us to confess that Subject more agreeable and more lovely against all Reason. For in this there is nothing of it's own.

Anferimur cultu, gemmis, auroque teguntur * 1.490Crimina, pars minima est ipsa puella sui. Saepe ubi sit quod ames inter tam multa requiras Decipit hac oculos, Aegide dives amor.

Faults are with Jewels hid, we'r gull'd by Art, The Girl is of her self the smallest part. When 'mongst so many things, we seek for her We love, our Eyes often deceived are.

What a strange Power do the Poets attribute to the Senses, that make Narcissus so desperately in Love with his own Shadow?

Cunctáque miratur, quibus est mirabilis ipse, * 1.491Se cupit imprudens, & qui probat, ipse probatur, Dumque petit, petitur: pariterque accendit & ardet.

* 1.492Admireth all; for which to be admir'd: And inconsiderately himself desir'd. The Praises which he gives, his Beauty claim'd, Who seeks, is sought, th' Enflamer is inflam'd.

And Pygmalion's Judgement so troubled by the Impression of the sight of his Ivory Statue, that he loves and adores it as if it were a living Woman.

Oscula dat, reddique putat, sequiturque tenetque,* 1.493 Et credit tactis digitos insidere membris, Et metuit prestos veniat ne livor in artus.

He kisses, and believes he's kiss'd again, Seizes, and twixt his arms his Love doth strain, And thinks the polish'd Ivory thus held, Does to his fingers amorous pressure yield, And has a tender Fear, lest black and blue Should in the Parts with ardour press'd ensue.

Let a Philosopher be put into a Cage of small thin set Bars of Iron, and hang him on the Top of the high Tower of Nostre Dame of Paris; He will see by manifest Reason, that he cannot possibly fall, and yet he will find (unless he have been used to the Plummers Trade) that he cannot help, but that the excessive height will fright and astonish him. For we have enough to do to assure our selves in the Galleries of our Steeples, if they are made with Rail and Ba∣luster, altho they are of Stone; and some there are that cannot endure so much as to think of it. Let there be a Beam thrown over betwixt these two Towers, of breadth sufficient to walk upon, there is no Philosophical Wisdom so firm that can give us the courage to walk over it, as we should do upon the Ground. I have often tried this upon our Mountains in these Parts; and

yet I am one who am not the most subject to be afraid, that I was not able to endure to look in∣to that infinite Depth without horror and trem∣bling, though I stood above my length from the edge of the Precipice, and could not have fall'n down if I would. Where I also observ'd, that what height soever the Precipice were, provided there were some Tree, or some jutting out of a Rock, a little to support and divide the Sight, it a little eases our Fears, and gives greater Assurance; as if they were things by which in falling we might have some relief: But that direct Precipices we are not able to look upon without being giddy; ut despici sine vertigine simul oculorum animique non possit. Which is a manifest imposture of the Sight. And therefore it was, that the fine Philosopher put out his own Eyes, to free the Soul from being diverted by them, and that he might Philoso∣phise at greater liberty. But by the same Rule, he should have damm'd up his Ears, that Theo∣phrastus says are the most dangerous Instruments about us, for receiving violent Impressions to alter and disturb us; and finally, should have de∣priv'd himself of all his other Senses, that is to say, of his Life and Being; For they have all the power to command our Soul and Reason. Fit etiam saepe specie quadam, saepe vocum gravitate & cantibus,* 1.494 ut pellantur animi vehementius: saepe etiam cura & timore. For it oft falls out that minds are more vehemently struck by some fight, by the quality and sound of the Voice, or by Singing; and oft times also by Grief and Fear. Physicians hold,

that there are certain Complexions that are agi∣tated by some Sounds, and Instruments, even to Fury. I have seen some, who could not hear a Bone gnaw'd under the Table without impati∣ence; and there is scarce any man, who is not disturb'd at the sharp and shrill noise that the File makes in grating upon the Iron; as also to hear chewing near them, or to hear any one speak, who has any impediment in the Throat or Nose, will move some People even to anger and hatred. Of what use was that piping prom∣pter of Gracchus, who softened, raised, and mov'd his Master's Voice, whilst he declaim'd at Rome, if the movements and quality of the sound had not the power to move and alter the Judgments of the Auditory? In earnest, there is wonderful reason to keep such a clutter about the firmity of this fine piece, that suffers it self to be turn'd and twin'd by the motion and accidents of so light a wind. The same cheat that the Senses put upon our Understanding, they have in turn put upon them. The Soul al∣so sometimes has its revenge, they lye and con∣tend which should most deceive one another. What we see and hear when we are transported with Passion, we neither see nor hear as it is.

Et solem geminum, & duplices se ostendere Thebas.* 1.495

The Sun did seem as if two Suns it were, And Thebes a double City did appear.

The Object that we love appears to us more beautiful than it really is:

* 1.496Multimodis igitur pravas, turpesque videmus, Esse in deliciis, summoque in honore vigere.

Hence 'tis that ugly things in fancy'd dress, * 1.497Seem gay, look fair to Lovers Eyes, and please.

and that we hate more ugly. To a discontented and afflicted Man, the Light of the Day seems dark and overcast. Our Senses are not only de∣prav'd, but very often stupified by the Passions of the Soul. How many things do we see, that we do not take notice of, if the Mind be taken up with other Thoughts?

* 1.498— in rebus quoque apertis noscere possis. Si non advertas Animum proinde esse, quasi omni Tempore semotae fuerint, longeque remotae.

* 1.499Nay even in plainest things, unless the Mind Take heed, unless she sets her self to find, The thing no more is seen, no more belov'd, Than if the most obscure, and most remov'd.

It appears that the Soul retires within, and amuses the Powers of the Senses. And so both the inside, and the outside of man is full of In∣firmities and Mistakes. They who have com∣par'd our Lives to a Dream,* 1.500 were peradventure more in the right than they were aware of; when we dream, the Soul lives, works, and ex∣ercises all its Faculties, neither more nor less, than when awake; but more largly and obscurely;

Yet not so much neither, that the difference should be as great as betwixt Night and the Meridional Brightness of the Sun, but as betwixt Night and Shade; there she sleeps, here she slumbers; but whe∣ther more or less, 'tis still dark and Cymmerian Darkness. We wake sleeping, and sleep waking. I do not see so clearly in my Sleep; but as to my being awake, I never found it clear enough, and free from Clouds. Moreover, Sleep, when it is profound, sometimes rocks even Dreams them∣selves asleep, but our awaking is never so sprite∣ly, that it does rightly, and as it should, purge and dissipate those Ravings and Whimsies, which are waking Dreams, and worse than Dreams. Our Reason and Soul receiving those Fancies and Opinions that come in Dreams, and autho∣rizing the Actions of our Dreams, with the like Approbation that they do those of the Day; wherefore do we not doubt, whether our Thought and Action is another sort of Dreaming, and our waking a certain kind of sleep? If the Senses be our first Judges, it is not ours that we are to consult; for in Faculty Beasts have as great, or greater right than we. It is certain that some of them have the Sense of Hearing more quick than Man; others that of Seeing, others that of Feeling, others that of Touch and Taste. Demo∣critus said, that the Gods and Brutes had the sen∣sitive Faculties more perfect than Man. But be∣twixt the Effects of their Senses and ours, the difference is extream. Our Spittle cleanses and dries up our Wounds, it kills the Serpent.

* 1.501Tantaque in his rebus distantia, differitasque est, Vt quod aliis cibus est, aliis fuat acre venenum. Saepe etenim serpens, hominis contacta saliva, Dispersit, ac sese mandendo conficit ipsa.

And in those things the diff'rence is so great, That what's ones Poyson, is anothers Meat; For Serpents often have been seen, 'tis said, When touch'd with humane Spittle, to go mad, And bite themselves to Death.

What Quality do we attribute to our Spittle, either in respect to our selves, or to the Serpent? By which of the two Senses shall we prove the true Essence that we seek for? Pliny says, that there are certain Sea-Hares in the Indies that are Poyson to us, and we to them; insomuch that with the least touch we kill them. Which shall be truly Poyson, the Man, or the Fish? Which shall we believe, the Fish of the Man, or the Man of the Fish? One Quality of the Air infects a Man, that does the Oxe no harm; some other infects the Oxe, but hurts not the Man: Which of the two shall in Truth and Nature be the pestilent Quality? To them who have the Jaundies, all things seems yellow and paler than to us:

* 1.502Lurida praeterea fiunt quaecunque tuentur Arquati.—

* 1.503Besides whatever Jaundice Eyes do view Look pale as well as those, and yellow too:

For lurid parts fly off with nimble Wings, And meet the distant coming forms of things; And others lurk within the Eyes, and seize, And strain with pale the entring Images.

They who are troubled with the Disease that the Physicians call Hyposphragma,* 1.504 which is a suf∣fusion of Blood under the Skin; see all things red and bloody. What do we know but that these Humours which thus alter the Operations of Sight, predominate our Beasts; and are usual with them? For we see some whose Eyes are yellow, like our People who have the Jaundies; and others of a bloody Colour. 'Tis likely that the colour of Objects seems other to them, than to us; which of the two shall make a right Judgment? For, it is not said, that the Essence of things have a Relation to Man only; Hard∣ness, Whiteness, Depth and Sharpness, have re∣ference to the Service and Knowledge of Ani∣mals as well as to us; and Nature has equally de∣sign'd them for their use. When we press down the Eye, the Body that we look upon, we perceive to be longer, and more extended; many Beasts have their Eyes so press'd down: this length therefore is peradventure the true form of that Body, and not that which our Eyes give it in their usual state. If we close the lower part of the Eye, things appear double to us.

Bina Lucernarum florentia lumina Flammis, Et duplices hominum facies, & corpora bina.* 1.505

One Lamp seems two, and each man does appear Upon a double Bulk two Heads to bear.

If our Ears be hindred, or the Passage stopp'd with any thing, we receive the sound quite otherwise, than we usually do; the Animals likewise, who have either the Ears hairy, or but a very little hole instead of an Ear, do not con∣sequently hear as we do; but another kind of sound. We see at Festivals and Theaters, that opposing a painted Glass of a certain Colour to the Light of the Flambeaus, all things in the Room appear to us green, yellow, or violet.

* 1.506Et vulgo faciunt id lutea, russaque vela, Et ferruginea, cum magnis intenta Theatris Per malos vulgata trabesque trementia pendent: Namque ibi concessum caveai subter, & omnem Scenai speciem, patrum matrumque deorumque Inficiunt, coguntque suo volitare colore.

* 1.507Thus when pale Curtains, or the deeper red, O're all the spacious Theater are spread, Which mighty Masts, and sturdy Pillars bear, And the loose Curtains wanton in the Air; Whole Streams of Colours from the top do flow, The Raies divide them in their Passage through; And strain the Scenes, and Men, and Gods below.

'Tis likely that the Eyes of Animals, which we see to be of divers colours, do produce the apparence of Bodies the same with their Eyes. We should therefore, to make a right Judgement

of the operations of the Senses, be first agreed with Beasts, and secondly, amongst our selves, which we by no means are, but enter at every turn into Dispute; forasmuch as one Hears, Sees, or Tastes something otherwise than another does, and contests as much as upon any other thing, of the diversity of the Images that the Senses represent to us. A Child, by the ordinary rule of Nature, Hears, Sees, and Tastes other∣wise than a Man of thirty years old, and he, than one of threescore. The Senses are in some more obscure and dusky, and more open and quick in others; and we receive things vari∣ously according as we are, and accordingly as they appear to us. Now our Perception being so uncertain and controverted, it is no more a wonder if we are told that we may declare that Snow appears white to us, but that to affirm that it is in it's own Essence really so, is more than we are able to justifie: and this foundati∣on being shaken, all the Knowledge in the World must of necessity fall to ruine. What do our Senses themselves hinder one another? A Picture seems rais'd and emboss'd to the Sight, in the handling it seems flat to the Touch: Shall we say that Musk, which delights the Smell, and is offensive to the Taste, is agreeable or no? There are Herbs and Vnguents, proper for one part of the Body, that are hurtful to another: Honey is pleasant to the Taste, but offensive to the Sight. They, who to assist their Lust, were wont in ancient times to make use of Magnify∣ing Glasses, to represent the Members they were

to employ, bigger, by that ocular Tumidity, to please themselves the more; to which of their Senses did they give the Prize, whether to the Sight, that represents the Members as large and great as they would desire; or to their Fee∣ling, which represents them little and contem∣ptible? Are they our Senses that supply the Sub∣ject with these different Conditions, and have the Subjects themselves nevertheless but one? As we see in the Bread we eat, it is nothing but Bread, but by being eaten, it becomes Bones, Blood, Flesh, Hair, and Nails.

* 1.508Vt cibus in membra, atque artus cum diditur omnes Disperit, atque aliam naturam sufficit ex se.

* 1.509As Meats diffus'd through all the the Mem∣bers lose Their former Nature, and different things compose.

The humidity suck'd up by the root of a Tree, becomes Trunk, Leaf, and Fruit: and the Air being but one, is modulated in a Trumpet to a thousand sorts of Sounds. Are they our Senses, I would fain know, that in like manner form these Sub∣jects into so many divers Qualities, or have they them really such in themselves? And upon this doubt, what can we determine of their true Es∣sence? Moreover, since the accidents of Diseases, of Raving, or Sleep, makes things appear other∣wise to us than they do to the Healthful, the

Wise, and those that are awake: Is it not like∣ly, that our right posture of Health and Under∣standing, and our natural Humors, have also wherewith to give a Being to things that have relation to their own Condition, and accommo∣date them to themselves, as well as when they are disorder'd; and our Health as capable of gi∣ving them an Aspect as Sickness? Why has not the Temperate a certain form of Objects relative to it as well as the Intemperate: and why may it not as well stamp it with it's own Character as the other? He, whose mouth is out of Taste, says the Wine is flat, the healthful Man com∣mends it's flavour, and the thirsty it's briskness. Now our Condition always accommodating things to it self, and transforming them accord∣ing to it's own posture; we cannot know what things truly are in themselves, being that no∣thing comes to us but what is falsified and alter∣ed by the Senses. Where the Compass, the Square, and the Rule are crooked, all Propositions drawn from thence, and all Buildings erected by those Guides, must of necessity be also defective. The incertainty of our Senses renders every thing uncertain that they produce.

Denique ut in fabrica, si prava est regula prima,* 1.510 Normáque si fallax rectis regionibus exit, Et libella aliqua si ex parte claudicat hilum, Omnia mendose fieri, atque obstipa necessum est, Prava, cubantia, prona, supina, atque absona tecta, Jam ruere ut quaedam videantur velle ruántque Prodita judiciis fallacibus omnia primis

Hic igitur ratio tibi rerum prava necesse est, Falsaque sit falsis quaecumque à sensibus orta est.

But lastly, as in Building, if the Line * 1.511Be not exact and straight, the Rule decline, Or Level false, how vain is the Design! Uneven, an ill shap'd, and tottering Wall Must rise, this part must sink, that part must fall, Because the Rules were false that fashion'd all: Thus Reasons Rules are false, if all commence, And rise from failing, and from erring Sense.

As to what remains, who can be fit to judge of, and to determine these Differences? As we say in Controversies of Religion, that we must have a Judge, neither inclining to the one side nor the other, free from all Choice and Affecti∣on, which cannot be amongst Christians; just so it falls out in this; for if he be old, he can∣not judge of the sense of old Age, being him∣self a Party in the Case: if Young, there is the same Exception; if Healthful, Sick, Asleep, or Awake, he is still the same incompetent Judge: We must have some one exempt from all these Propositions, as of things indifferent to him; and by this Rule we must have a Judge that ne∣ver was. To judge of the apparence that we receive of Subjects, we ought to have a deci∣ding Instrument, to prove this Instrument, we must have Demonstration, to verifie this Demon∣stration, an Instrument, and here we are upon the Wheel. Seeing the Senses cannot determine

our Dispute, being full of incertainty themselves, it must then be Reason that must do it; but no Reason can be erected upon any other founda∣tion than that of another Reason, and so we run back to all Infinity. Our fancy does not ap∣ply it self to things that are strange, but is con∣ceiv'd by the mediation of the Senses, and Sen∣ses do not comprehend a foreign Subject, but only their own Passions, by which means fancy and apparence are no part of the Subject, but only of the Passion and Sufferance of Sense, which Passion and Subject are several things; wherefore, whoever judges by Apparences, judg∣es by another thing than the Subject. And to say that the Passions of the Senses convey to the Soul the quality of strange Subjects by Resemblance: how can the Soul and Under∣standing be assur'd of this Resemblance, having of it self no Commerce with foreign Subjects? As they who never knew Socrates, cannot, when they see his Picture, say it is like him. Now, whoever would notwithstanding judge by Ap∣parences, if it be by all, it is impossible, be∣cause they hinder one another by their Contra∣rieties and Discrepancies, as we by Experience see. Shall some select Apparences govern the rest? You must verifie this Select by another Select, the second by the third, and consequently there will never be any end on't. Finally, there is no constant Existence neither of the Objects Being, nor our own. Both we, and our Judgements, and all mortal things, are evermore incessantly running and rowling, and consequently, nothing certain

can be establish'd from the one to the other, both the judging and the judged being in a continual Motion and Mutation: We have no Communication with Being, by reason that all humane Nature is always in the mid'st, betwixt being Born and Dying, giving but an obscure Apparence and Shadow, a weak and uncertain Opinion of it self. And if peradventure you fix your thought to apprehend your Being, it would be but like grasping Water, for the more you clutch your hand to squeeze and hold what is in it's own nature flowing, so much more you lose of what you would grasp and hold: So seeing that all things are subject to pass from one change to another, Reason, that there looks for a real Substance, finds it self deceiv'd, not being able to apprehend any thing that is Sub∣sistent and Permanent, because that every thing is either entring into Being, and is not yet wholly arriv'd at it, or begins to Dye before it is Born. Plato said, that Bodies had never any Existence, but only Birth; conceiving that Ho∣mer had made the Ocean, and Thetis, Father and Mother of the Gods, to shew us, that all things are in a perpetual Fluctuation, Motion, and Variation; the Opinion of all the Philoso∣phers, as he says, before his time, Parmenides only excepted, who would not allow things to have Motion, of the Power whereof he sets a mighty Value. Pythagoras was of Opinion, that all Matter was flowing and unstable: The Sto∣icks, that there is no time present, and that what we call so, is nothing but the juncture, and

meeting of the future and the past: Heracli∣tus, that never any man entred twice into the same River: Epicharmus; that who borrow'd Money but an hour ago, does not owe it now; and, that he, who was invited over-night to come the next day to Dinner, comes nevertheless uninvited, considering, that they are no more the same men, but are become others; and, that there could not a mortal Substance be found twice in the same Condition: for, by the sud∣denness and quickness of Change, it one while disperses, and another reassembles; it comes and goes after such a manner, that what begins to be Born, never arrives to the Perfection of Being; forasmuch as that Birth is never finish'd, and never stays, as being at an end, but from the Seed is evermore changing and shifting from one to another. As humane Seed is first in the Mothers Womb made a formless Embrio, after deliver'd thence a sucking Infant; afterwards it becomes a Boy, then consequently a Youth, after that a full Man, then a middle-ag'd Man, and at last a decrepid old Man. So that Age and subsequent Generation is always destroying and spoiling that which went before.

Mutat enim Mundi naturam totius aetas,* 1.512 Ex alioque alius status excipere omnia debet, Nec manet illa sui similis res, omnia migrant, Omnia commutat natura & vertere cogit.

For Time the Nature of the World translates, And gives all things new from preceding states:

Nought like it self remains, but all do range, And Nature forces every thing to change.

And yet we foolishly fear one kind of Death, whereas we have already past, and do daily pass so many other. For not only, as Heraclitus said, the Death of the Fire is the Generation of the Air, and the Death of Air the Generation of Water: but moreover, we may more mani∣festly discern it in our selves: The Flower of Youth dies, and passes away when Age comes on, and youth is terminated in the Flower of Age of a full grown Man; Infancy in Youth, and the first Age dies in Infancy: Yesterday di∣ed in to Day, and to Day will die in to Mor∣row; and there is nothing that remains in the same state, or that is always the same thing. And that it is so, let this be the Proof; If we are alwayes one and the same, how comes it then to pass, that we are now pleas'd with one thing, and by and by with another? How comes it to pass that we love contrary things, that we praise or condemn them? How comes it to pass that we have different Affections, and no more retain the same Sentiment in the same Thought? For it is not likely that without mutation we should assume other Passions; and that which suffers Mutation does not remain the same, and if it be not the same, it is not at all: But the same that the Being is, does, like it, unknowing∣ly change and alter, becoming evermore ano∣ther from another thing: And consequently the natural Senses abuse and deceive themselves,

taking that which seems, for that which is, for want of well knowing what that which is, is. But what is it then that truly is? That which is Eternal: that is to say, that never had begin∣ning, nor never shall have ending, and to which Time can bring no mutation.* 1.513 For Time is a mo∣bile thing, and that appears as in a shadow, with a matter evermore flowing and running, with∣out ever remaining stable and permanent: and to which those words appertain, before, and af∣ter, has been, or shall be: Which at the first sight evidently shew, that it is not a thing that is; and it were a great folly, and an apparent falsity, to say that that is, which is not yet in being, or that has already ceas'd to be. And as to these words, present, instant, and now, by which it seems that we principally support and found the intelligence of Time, Reason disco∣vering, does presently destroy it; for it imme∣diately divides and splits it into the future and past, being of necessity to consider it divided in two. The same happens to Nature, that is measur'd, as to Time that measures it; for she has nothing more subsisting and permanent than the other, but all things are either born, bear∣ing, or dying. By which means, it were a sin∣ful saying, to say of God, who is He who on∣ly is, that He was, or that He shall be: for those are Terms of declension, transportation, and vi∣cissitude, of what cannot continue, nor remain in Being. Wherefore we are to conclude, that God only is, not according to any measure of Time, but according to an immutable and im∣moveable

Eternity, not measur'd by Time, nor subject to any Declension: before whom no∣thing was, and after whom nothing shall be, ei∣ther more new, or more recent, but a real Be∣ing, that with one sole Now fills the for ever, and that there is nothing that truly is, but He alone; without being able to say, He has been, or shall be, without beginning, and without end. To this Religious conclusion of a Pagan, I shall only add this testimony of one of the same con∣dition, for the close of this long and tedious Discourse, which would furnish me with end∣less matter. What a vile and abject thing, says he, is man, if he do not raise himself above Humani∣ty? 'Tis a good word, and a profitable desire, but withall absurd; For to make the handle bigger than the Hand, and the Cubit longer than the Arm, and to hope to stride further than our Legs can reach, is both impossible and mon∣strous; or that Man should rise above himself and Humanity: for he cannot see but with his Eyes, nor seize but with his Power. He shall be exalted, if God will lend him his extraordi∣nary hand; he shall exalt himself, by abandon∣ing and renouncing his own proper means, and by suffering himself to be rais'd and elevated by means purely Celestial; It belongs to our Christian Faith, and not to the Stoical Vertue, to pretend to that Divine and miraculous Me∣tamorphosis.

CHAP. XIII. Of judging of the Death of another.

WHen we judge of another's assurance in Death, which without doubt is the most remarkable action of humane Life; we are to take notice of one thing, which is, that men very hardly believe themselves to be arriv'd to that period. Few men dye in an opinion that it is their latest hour, and there is nothing wherein the flattery of Hope does more delude us. It ne∣ver ceases to whisper in our Ears,* 1.514 Others have been much sicker without dying; my conditi∣on is not so desperate as 'tis thought, and at the worst, God has done other Miracles. Which hap∣pens, by reason that we set too much value up∣on our selves. It seems as if the Universality of things were in some measure to suffer by our dissolution, and that it did commiserate our condition. For as much as our deprav'd sight represents things to it self after the same man∣ner, and that we are of opinion they stand in as much need of us as we do of them; like Peo∣ple at Sea, to whom Mountains, Fields, Cities, Heaven and Earth are toss'd at the same rate they are:

Provehimur portu, terraeque, urbesque recedunt.* 1.515

Out of the Port with a brisk gale we speed, And making way, Cities and Lands recede.

Whoever saw old Age that did not applaud the past, and condemn the present time, laying the fault of his Misery and Discontent upon the World, and the Manners of Men?

* 1.516Jamque caput quassans grandis suspirat arator, Et cum tempora, temporibus praesentia confert Praeteritis, laudat fortunas saepe parentis, Et crepat antiquum genus ut pietate repletum.

Now the old Ploughman sighs and shakes his Head, And present times comparing with those fled, His predecessors happiness does praise, And the great Piety of that old Race.

We will make all things to go along with us: whence it follows, that we consider our Death as a very great thing, and that does not so easily pass, nor without the solemn Consulta∣tion of the Stars: Tot circa unum Caput tumultu∣antes Deos, and so much the more think it, as we more value our selves. What shall so much Knowledge be lost, with so much damage to the World without a particular concern of the De∣stinies? Does so rare and exemplary a Soul cost no more the killing than one that is mean, and of no use to the publick? This Life that pro∣tects so many others, upon which so many other Lives depend, that employs so vast a number of men in his Service, and that fills so many places, shall it drop off like one that hangs but by its own simple Thread? None of us layes it enough

to Heart, that we are but one. Thence proceed∣ed those Words of Caesar to his Pilot, more tu∣mid than the Sea that threatned him.

— Italiam si coelo authore recusas* 1.517 Me pete: sola tibi causa haec est justa timoris, Victorem non nosce tuum, perrumpe procellas Tutela secure mei —

If thou to sail to Italy decline Under the Gods Protection, trust to mine; The only just cause that thou hast to fear, Is that thou dost not know thy Passenger; But, I being aboard, slight Neptunes braves, And fearless cut thorough the swelling Waves.

And these,

— credit jam digna pericula Caesar Fatis esse suis, tantusque evertere (dixit) Me superis labor est, parva quem puppe sedentem, Tam magno petiere mari —

These Dangers, worthy of his Destiny, Caesar did now believe, and then did cry, What is it for the Gods a task so great To overthrow me, that to do the feat In a poor little Bark they must be fain Here to surprize me on the swelling Main?

And that idle Fancy of the Publick,* 1.518 that the Sun carried in his Face the Mourning for his Death a whole Year.

Ille etiam extincto miseratus Caesare Romam, Cum Caput obscura nitidum ferrugine texit.* 1.519

And pittying Rome, Great Caesar being dead, In mourning Clouds Sol veil'd his shining Head.

and a thousand of the like; wherewith the World suffers it self to be so easily impos'd up∣on, believing that our interests alter the Hea∣vens, and that they are concern'd at our ordi∣nary Actions. Non tanta Coelo societas nobiscum est,* 1.520 ut nostro fato mortalis sit ille, quoque siderum fulgor. There is no such Alliance betwixt us and Heaven, that the Brightness of the Stars should be made Mortal by our Death. Now to judge of the Constancy and Resolution in a Man that does not yet believe himself to be certainly in Danger, though he really is, is no Reason; and 'tis not enough that he dies in this posture, un∣less he did purposely put himself into it for this effect. It most commonly falls out in most men, that they set a good Face upon the Matter, and speak with great Indifferency, to acquire Repu∣tation, which they hope afterward living to en∣joy. Of all that I have seen dye, Fortune has dispos'd their Countenances, and no design of theirs; and even of those who in ancient times have made away themselves, there is much to be consider'd, whether it were a sudden, or a lin∣gring Death. That cruel Roman Emperour would say of his Prisoners, That he would make them feel Death, and if any one kill'd himself in Prison, That Fellow has made an escape from me; he would say he would spin out Death, and make it felt by Torments.

Vidimus & toto quamvis in Corpore caeso,* 1.521 Nil animae lethale datum, moremque nefandae Durum saevitiae, percunctis parcere morti.

And in tormented Bodies we have seen, Amongst those Wounds none that have mor∣tal been, Inhumane Method of dire Cruelty, That means to kill; yet will not let men dye.

In plain truth, it is no such great Matter for a Man in Health and in a temperate state of Mind, to resolve to kill himself; it is very easie to give ill sign•• before one comes to the push: insomuch that Heliogabalus, the most effeminate Man in the World, amongst his most sensual Pleasures, could forecast to make himself dye delicately, when he should be forc'd thereto. And that his Death might not give the lye to the rest of his Life, had purposely built a sumptuous Tower, the Front and Base whereof was cover'd and lay'd with Planks enrich'd with Gold and precious Stones, thence to precipitate himself; and also caus'd Cords twisted with Gold and Crimson Silk to be made, wherewith to strangle himself; and a Sword with the blade of Gold to be ham∣mer'd out to fall upon: and kept Poyson in Vessels of Emerald and Topaze wherewith to poyson himself, according as he should like to choose one of these ways of dying.

* 1.522Impiger, & fortis virtute coacta.

By a forc'd Valour resolute and brave.

Yet, for so much as concerns this Person, the effeminacy of his Preparations makes it more likely that he would have thought better on't, had he been put to the test. But in those who with greater Resolution have determin'd to dis∣patch themselves, we must examine, whether it were with one blow which took away the lei∣sure of feeling the Effect: for it is to be questi∣on'd, whether perceiving Life by little and little to steal away, the sentiment of the Bod•••• mixing it self with that of the Soul, and the means of repenting being offer'd, whether, I say, Constan∣cy and Obstinacy in so dangerous a will is to be found. In the Civil Wars of Caesar, Lucius Do∣mittus being taken in Prussia, and thereupon poysoning himself, afterward repented. It has hapned in our time, that a certain Person being resolv'd to dye, and not having gone deep enough at the first thrust, the sensibility of the Flesh opposing his Arm, gave himself three or four Wounds more, but could never prevail upon himself to thrust home. Whilst Plantius Sylvanus was upon his Tryal, Virgulantia his Grand Mother sent him a Poignard, with which not being able to kill himself, he made his Ser∣vants to cut his Veins. Albucilla in Tiberius his Time, having, to kill himself, struck with too much tenderness, gave his Adversaries Opor∣tunity

to imprison, and put him to Death their own way: and that great Leader Demosthenes, after his Rout in Sicily did the same; and C. Fimbria, having struck himself too weakly, in∣treated his Servant to dispatch him, and to kill him out. On the contrary, Ostorius, who could not make use of his own Arm, disdain'd to employ that of his Servant to any other use, but only to hold the Poignard straight and firm; and running his Breast full drive against it, thrust himself through. 'Tis in truth a morsel that is to be swallow'd with∣out chewing, unless a man be throughly re∣solv'd▪ and yet Adrian the Emperour made his Physi••ian mark and incircle in his Pap the mortal place wherein he was to stab, to him he had given order to kill him. For this rea∣son it was, that Caesar being ask'd what Death he thought to be the most desir'd, made An∣swer, The least premeditated, and the shortest. If Caesar dar'd to say it, it is no Cowardize in me to believe it. A short Death, says Pliny, is the sovereign good hap of humane Life. They do not much care to discover it: No one can say that he is resolv'd for Death, who fears to trifle with it, and that cannot undergo it with his Eyes open. They that we see in ex∣emplary Punishments run to their Death, hasten and press their Execution, do it not out of Reso∣lution, but they will not give themselves leisure to consider it; it does not trouble them to be dead, but to dye.

* 1.523Emori nolo, sed me esse mortuum, nihili aestimo.

I would not dye, but care not to be dead.

'Tis a degree of Constancy to which I have experimented, that I can arrive to do like those who plunge themselves into Dangers, as into the Sea, with their Eyes shut. There is nothing, in my Opinion, more illustrious in the Life of Socrates,* 1.524 than that he had thirty whole days wherein to ruminate upon the Sentence of his Death; to have digested it all that time with a most assured hope, without care, and without alteration, and with Words and Actions rather careless and indifferent, than any way stirr'd or discompos'd by the weight of such a Thought. That Pomponius Atticus,* 1.525 to whom Cicero writes so oft, being sick, caus'd Agrippa his Son-in-law, and two or three more of his Friends, to be call'd to him, and told them, That having found all means practis'd upon him for his Recovery to be in vain, and that all he did to prolong his Life, did also prolong and augment his Pain; he was resolved to put an end both to the one and the other, desiring them to approve of his Deliberation, or at least, not to lose their labour in endeavouring to disswade him. Now having chosen to destroy himself by Abstinence, his Dis∣ease was accidentally so cur'd, and the Remedy that he had made use of wherewith to kill him∣self, restor'd him to his perfect Health. His Physicians and Friends rejoycing at so happy an

Event, and coming to congratulate him, found themselves very much deceiv'd, it being impos∣sible for them to make him alter his Purpose; he telling them, that he must one day dye, and that being now so far on his way, he would save himself the labour of beginning again another time. This Man, having discover'd Death at lei∣sure, was not only not discourag'd at the ap∣proach of it, but provokes it: for being satisfied that he had engag'd in the Combat, he consi∣der'd it as a piece of Bravery, and that he was oblig'd in Honour to see the end. 'Tis far be∣yond not fearing Death, to taste and relish it. The Story of the Philosopher Cleanthes is very like this. He had his Gums swell'd and rotten; his Physicians advis'd him to great Abstinence: having fasted two days, he was so much better, that they pronounc'd him cur'd, and permitted him to his ordinary course of Diet: he, on the contrary, already tasting some sweetness in this Faintness of his, would not be persuaded to go back, but resolv'd to proceed, and to finish what he had so far advanc'd. Tullius Marcelli∣nus, a Young-man of Rome, having a mind to anticipate the hour of his Destiny, to be rid of a Disease that was more trouble to him than he was willing to endure; though his Physicians assur'd him of a certain, tho not sudden Cure, call'd a Council of his Friends, to consult about it; of which, some, says Seneca, gave him the Counsel, that out of Unmanliness they would have taken themselves, others, out of Flattery, such as they thought he would best like: but a

Stoick said thus to him, Do not concern thy self, Marcellinus, as if thou did'st deliberate of a thing of Importance; 'tis no great matter to live, thy Servants and Beasts live, but it is a great thing to dye handsomly, wisely, and constantly: do but think how long thou hast done the same thing, eat, drink, and sleep, drink, sleep, and eat. We in∣cessantly wheel in the same circle: not only ill and insupportable Accidents, but even the saciety of li∣ving, inclines a man to desire to dye. Marcelli∣nus did not stand in need of a man to advise, but of a man to assist him; his Servants were afraid to meddle in the Business: but this Phi∣losopher gave them to understand, that Dome∣sticks are suspected, even when it is in doubt, whether the Death of the Master were volunta∣ry, or no; otherwise, that it would be of as ill example to hinder him, as to kill him, foras∣much as,

* 1.526Invitum qui servat, idem facit occidenti.

Who makes a man to live against his Will, As cruel is, as if he did him kill.

He afterwards told Marcellinus, that it would not be indecent, as the remainder of Tables, when we have done, is given to the Assistants; so Life being ended, to distribute something to those who have been our Servants. Now Mar∣cellinus was of a free and liberal Spirit; he therefore divided a certain sum of Money amongst his Attendants, and conforted them.

As to the rest, he had no need of Steel, nor of Blood. He was resolv'd to go out of this Life, and not to run out of it; not to escape from Death, but to essay it. And to give himself lei∣sure to trifle with it, having forsaken all man∣ner of Nourishment, the third day following, after having caus'd himself to be sprinkled with warm Water, he fainted by degrees, and not without some kind of Pleasure, as he himself de∣clar'd. In earnest, such as have been acquaint∣ed with these Faintings, proceeding from weak∣ness, do say that they are therein sensible of no manner of Pain, but rather feel a kind of De∣light, as in a Passage to Sleep and Rest. These are studied and digested Deaths. But to the end that Cato only may furnish out the whole Example of Vertue,* 1.527 it seems as if his good De∣stiny had put his ill one into his hand, with which he gave himself the Blow; seeing he had the leisure to confront and struggle with Death, reinforcing his Courage in the greatest danger, instead of letting it go less. And if I had been to represent him in his supream Station, I should have done it in the posture of tearing out his bloody Bowels, rather than with his Sword in his hand, as did the Statuaries of his time: for, this second Murther was much more furious than the first.

CHAP. XIV. That the Mind hinders it self.

'TIS a pleasant Imagination to fancy a Mind exactly balanc'd betwixt two equal desires: for doubtless it can never pitch upon either, forasmuch as the Choice and Application would manifest an inequality of esteem; and were we set betwixt the Bottle and the Hamme with an equal Appetite to drink and eat, there would doubtless be no remedy, but we must dye of Thirst and Hunger. To provide against this Inconvenience, the Stoicks, when they are ask'd whence this Election in the Soul of two indifferent things does proceed, (and that makes us out of a great number of Crowns rather take one than another, there being no reason to in∣cline us to such a preference) makes Answer, That this movement of the Soul is extraordinary and irregular, that enters into us by a strange, accidental, and fortuitous Impulse. It might ra∣ther methinks be said, that nothing presents it self to us wherein there is not some difference, how little soever; and that either by the Sight or Touch there is always some choice, that, tho it be imperceptibly, tempts and attracts us. Whoever likewise shall presuppose a packthread equally strong throughout, it is utterly impos∣sible it should break; for, where will you have the breaking to begin? and that it should break altogether is not in nature. Whoever also should

hereunto joyn the Geometrical Propositions, that by the certainty of their Demonstrations con∣clude the Contained to be greater than the Con∣taining, the Center also to be as great as the Circumference, and that find out two Lines in∣cessantly approaching each other, and that yet can never meet, and the Philosopher's Stone, and the Quadrature of Circle, where the Reason and the Effect are so opposite; might peradventure find some Argument to second this bold Saying of Pliny, Solum certum nihil esse certi,* 1.528 & homi∣ne nihil miserius aut superbius. That it is only certain there is nothing certain, and that nothing is more miserable, or more proud than Man.

CHAP. XV. That our Desires are augmented by difficulty.

THere is no Reason that has not his con∣trary, say the wisest of Philosophers: which puts me upon ruminating on the excellent Saying one of the Antients alledges for the con∣tempt of Life; No Good can bring Pleasure, if not that for the loss of which we are before-hand prepared: In aequo est dolor amissae rei,* 1.529 & timor amittendae, The grief of losing a thing, and the fear of losing it, are equal. Meaning by that, that the Fruition of Life cannot be truly plea∣sant to us, if we are in fear of losing it. It might however be said on the contrary, that we hug and embrace this Good by so much the more

tenderly, and with so much greater Affection, by how much we see it the less assur'd, and fear to have it taken from us; for, as it is evident, that Fire burns with greater Fury when Cold comes to mix with it, so our Wills are more obstinate by being oppos'd:

* 1.530Si nunquam Danaen habuisset ahenea turris, Non esset Danae de Jove facta parens.

A brazen Tow'r if Danae had not had, She ne're by Jove had been a Mother made.

and that there is nothing naturally contrary to our Taste but Saciety, which proceeds from fa∣cility; nor any thing that so much whets it, as Rarity and Difficulty.* 1.531 Omnium rerum voluptas ipso quo debet fugare periculo crescit. The pleasure of all things increases by the same danger that should deterr it.

* 1.532Galla nega▪ satiatur amor nisi gaudia torquent.

Galla deny, be not too eas'ly gain'd, For Love will glut with Joys too soon obtain'd.

To keep Love in breath, Lycurgus made a Decree, that the married People of Lacedaemo∣nia should never enjoy one another but by stealth; and that it should be as great a shame to take them in bed together as committing with others. The difficulty of Assignations, the dan∣ger of Surprize, and the Shame of the Morning,

& languor, & silentium,* 1.533 Et latere petitus imo spiritus.

The languor, silence, and the far-fetch'd Sighs, That fearing to be heard do trembling rise.

these are they that give the Haut-gout to the Sawce. How many very wantonly pleasant Plays are made from the cleanly and modest way of speaking of the Works of Love? Even Pleasure it self would be heightned with Pain. It is much sweeter when it smarts, and has the Skin rippled. The Courtezan Flora said she never lay with Pompey, but that she made him wear the Prints of her Teeth.

Quod petiere, premunt aretè,* 1.534 faciuntque dolorem Corporis, & dentes incidunt saepe labellis: Et stimuli subsunt, qui instigant laedere ad ipsum Quodcunque est, rabies unde illae germina surgunt.

And so it is in every thing: Difficulty gives all things their Estimation. Those of the Marque of Ancona, most cheerfully make their Vows to St. James, and those of Galicia to our Lady of Loretta, they make wonderful Boasts at Liege of the Baths of Luques, and in Tuscany of those of Aspa: there are few Romans seen in the Fencing-Schools of Rome, which is full of French. The great Cato also, as well as we, nauseated his Wife whilst she was his, and long'd for her when in the Possession of another.

I was fain to turn out an old Stallion into the Paddock, being he was vicious, and not to be govern'd when he smelt a Mare: the facility presently sated him, as towards his own, but towards strange Mares, and the first that past by the Pale of his Pasture, he would again fall to his importunate Neighings and his furious Heats, as before. Our Appetite contemns, and passes by what it has in possession, to run after that it has not.

* 1.535Transvolat in medio posita, & fugientia captat.

Thou scorn'st that Lass thou may'st with ease enjoy,* 1.536 And court'st those that are difficult and coy.

To forbid us any thing, is to make us have a mind to't.

nisi tu servare puellam * 1.537Incipis, incipiet desinere esse mea.

If thou no better guard that Girl of thine, She'll soon begin to be no longer mine.

To give it wholly up to us, is to beget in us Contempt, Want, and abundance fall into the same Inconvenience.

* 1.538Tibi quod superest, mihi quod desit, dolet.

Thy Superfluities do trouble thee, And what I want, and pant for, troubles me.

Desire and Fruition do equally afflict us. The rigours of Mistresses are troublesome, but fa∣cility, to say truth, is more, forasmuch as Dis∣content and Anger spring from the esteem we have of the thing desired, heat and actuate Love, but Saciety begets disgust; 'tis a blunt, dull, stu∣pid, tir'd, and slothful Passion.

Si qua volet regnare diu, contemnat amentem.* 1.539 contemnite amantes. Sic hodie veniet, si qua negavit heri.* 1.540

The Lady that would keep her Servant still, Must in discretion sometimes use him ill; And the same Policy with Men will do, If they sometimes do slight their Misses too; By which means she that yesterday said nay, Will come and offer up her self to day.

Why did Poppea invent the use of a Mask to hide the Beauties of her Face, but to enhance it to her Lovers? Why have they veil'd, even below the Heels, those Beauties that every one desires to shew, and that every one desires to see? Why do they cover, with so many Hinder∣ances one over another, the Parts where our desires and their own have their principal Seat? And to what serve those great Bastion Farthin∣gals, with which our Ladies fortifie their Haunches, but to allure our Appetite, and to draw us on by removing them farther from us?

Et fugit ad salices, & se cupit antè videri.* 1.541

And to the Osiers flies her self to hide, But does desire to have her flight decry'd.

* 1.542Interdum tunica duxit operta moram.

Things being laid too open to the Sight, Do sometimes put a stop to the Delight.

To what use serves the artifice of this Virgin Modesty? this grave Coldness, this severe Countenance, this profession to be ignorant of things that they know better than we who in∣struct them in them, but to encrease in us the desire to overcome, controul, and trample under foot at pleasure, all this Ceremony, and all these Obstacles? For there is not only Pleasure, but moreover, Glory, to conquer and debauch that soft Sweetness, and that child∣ish Modesty, and to reduce a cold and Matron∣like Gravity to the Mercy of our ardent De∣sires: 'Tis a glory, say they, to triumph over Modesty, Chastity, and Temperance; and whoever disswades Ladies from those Qualities, betray both them and themselves. They are to believe, That their Hearts tremble with af∣fright, that the very sound of our Words of∣fends the purity of their Ears, that they hate us for talking so, and only yield to our Impor∣tunity by a compulsive force. Beauty, as pow∣erful as it is, has not wherewithal to make it self relish'd, without the Mediation of these lit∣tle Arts: look into Italy, where there is the most and the finest Beauty to be sold, how it is nevertheless necessitated to have recourse to

other means and other artifices to render it self charming, and if in truth, whatever it may do being venal and publick, it does not remain fee∣ble and languishing in it self. Even as in Ver∣tue it self, of two like effects, we notwith∣standing look upon that as the best and most worthy, wherein the most trouble and hazard is propos'd. 'Tis an effect of the divine Provi∣dence to suffer the holy Church to be afflicted, as we see it, with so many Storms and Troubles, by this opposition to rouze pious Souls, and to awake them from that drowsie Lethargy where∣into, by so long Tranquility, they had been immerg'd. If we should lay the loss we have sustain'd in the number of those who have gone astray, in the Ballance against the Benefit we have had by being again put in breath, and by having our Zeal and Forces exercis'd by reason of this Opposition; I know not whether the Utility would not surmount the Damage. We have thought to tye the Nuptial Knot of our Marriages more fast and firm, for having taken all means of dissolving it; but the Knot of the Will and Affection is so much the more slack∣ned and made loose, by how much that of Con∣straint is drawn closer together. And on the contrary, that which kept the Marriages at Rome so long in honour and inviolate, was the liberty every one that would had to break them. They kept their Wives the better, be∣cause they might part with them if they would: and in the full liberty of Divorces they liv'd fif∣ty years and more, before any one made use on't.

* 1.543Quod licet, ingratum est, quod non licet, acrius urit.

What's free we are disgusted at, and slight, What is forbidden whets the Appetite.

We might here introduce the Opinion of an Ancient upon this occasion, That Executions rather whet than dull the edge of Vices: That they do not beget the care of doing well, that being the work of Reason and Discipline; but only a care not to be taken in doing ill.

* 1.544Latius excisae pestis contagia serpunt.

The Plague-sore being launc'd, th' Infection spreads.

I do not know that this is true; but I expe∣rimentally know, that never Civil Government was by that means reform'd. The order and regiment of Manners depend upon some other expedient. The Greek Histories make mention of the Agrippians, Neighbours to Scythia, who live without either rod or stick to offend; that not only no one attempts to attack them, but whoever can fly thither is safe, by reason of their Vertue and Sanctity of Life, and no one is so bold as there to lay hands upon them; and they have Applications made to them to deter∣mine the Controversies that arise betwixt Men of other Countries. There is a certain Nation, where the Inclosures of Gardens and Fields they would preserve, is made only of a string of

Cotton-yarn; and so fenc'd, is more firm and secure than our Hedges and Ditches. Furem signata solicitant. Aperta effractarius praeterit.* 1.545 Things seal'd up invite a Thief. House-breakers pass by open doors. Peradventure the facility of entring my House, amongst other things, has been a means to preserve it from the Violence of our Civil Wars. Defence allures Attempt, and Defiance provokes an Enemy. I enervated the Souldier's design, by depriving the Exploit of Danger, and all matter of Military Glory, which is wont to serve them for pretence and excuse. Whatever is bravely, is ever honoura∣bly done, at a time when Justice is dead. I ren∣der them the Conquest of my House cowardly and base; it is never shut to any one that knocks. My Gate has no other Guard than a Porter, and that of ancient Custom and Ceremony; who does not so much serve to defend it, as to offer it with more decency, and the better grace. I have no other Guard nor Centinel than the Stars. A Gentleman would play the Fool to make a shew of Defence, if he be not really in a Con∣dition to defend himself. He that lies open on one side, is every where so. Our Ancestors did not think of building frontier Garrisons. The means of assaulting, I mean without Battery, or Army, and of surprizing our Houses, in∣crease every day above the means to guard them. Mens Wits are generally bent that way. Inva∣sion every one is concern'd in, none but the Rich in Defence. Mine was strong for the time when it was built, I have added nothing to it

of that kind, and should fear that its strength should turn against my self; to which we are to consider, that a peaceable time would require it should be dismantled. There is danger never to be able to regain it, and it would be very hard to keep. For in intestine Dissentions your man may be of the Party you fear; and where Re∣ligion is the Pretext, even a man's nearest Re∣lations becomes unfaithful with a colour of Ju∣stice. The publick Exchequer will not maintain our domestick Garrisons; they would exhaust it. We our selves have not means to do it with∣out ruine, or which is more inconvenient and injurious, without ruining the People. As to the rest, you there lose all, and even your Friends will be more ready to accuse your want of Vigilancy, and your Improvidence, than to lament you. That so many garrison'd Houses have been lost, whereas this of mine remains, makes me apt to believe, that they were only lost, by being guarded. This gives an Enemy both an Invitation and colour of reason. All defence shews a face of War. Let who will come to me in God's Name; but I shall not invite them. 'Tis the Retirement I have chosen for my repose from War. I endea∣vour to withdraw this corner from the publick Tempest, as I also do another corner in my Soul. Our War may put on what forms it will, multiply, and diversify it self into new Parties; for my part I shall not budge. Amongst so many garrison'd Houses, I am the only Per∣son of my Condition, that I know of, who

have purely intrusted mine to the Protection of Heaven; without removing either Plate, Deeds, or Hangings. I will neither fear, nor save my self by halfs. If a full acknowledgment can ac∣quire the Divine Favour, it will stay with me to the end: if not, I have however continued long enough, to render my continuance remarkable and fit to be recorded. How? Why, I have liv'd thirty Years.

CHAP. XVI. Of Glory.

THere is the Name and the thing: the Name is a Voice which denotes and signifies the thing; the name is no part of the thing, or of the Substance; 'tis a foreign piece joyn'd to the thing; and without it, God, who is all fullness in himself, and the height of all Perfection, cannot augment or add any thing to himself within; but his Name may be augmented and increas'd by the Blessing and Praise we attribute to his ex∣teriour Works. Which Praise, seeing we cannot incorporate it in him, forasmuch as he can have no accession of good, we attribute it to his Name; which is the part out of him, that is nearest to us. Thus is it, that to God alone Glory and Honour appertain; and there is nothing so remote from Reason, as that we should go in quest of it for our selves; for being indigent and necessitous

within, our Essence being imperfect, and ha∣ving need of Melioration, 'tis to that, that we ought to employ all our endeavour. We are all hollow and empty: 'tis not with wind and voice that we are to fill our selves; we want a more solid substance to repair us: a man starv'd with hunger, would be very simple to seek ra∣ther to provide himself of a gay Garment, than a good Meal: we are to look after that where∣of we have most need. As we have it in our ordinary Prayers, Gloria in excelsis Deo, in Ter∣ra pax hominibus.* 1.546 Glory be to God on high, and in Earth Peace, &c. We are in great want of Beauty, Health, Wisdom, Virtue, and such like es∣sential Qualities: exteriour Ornaments should be look'd after when we have made Provision for necessary things. Divinity treats amply and more pertinently of this Subject, but I am not much vers'd in it. Chrisippus and Diogenes were the first and the most constant Authors of the contempt of Glory: and maintain'd, that amongst all Pleasures, there was none more dangerous, nor more to be avoided, than that which pro∣ceeds from the Approbation of others. And in truth, Experience makes us sensible of many very hurtful Treasons in it. There is nothing that so poisons Princes, as flattery, nor any thing where∣by wicked men more easily obtain Credit and Favour with them: nor Pandarism so proper and usually made use of to corrupt the Chastity of Women, than to wheedle and entertain them with their own Prayers. The first Charm the Syrens made use of to allure Vlysses, is of this Nature.

Deca vers nous, deca, o tres-louable Ulysse,* 1.547 Et le plus grand honneur dont la Grece fleurise.

To us, noble Vlysses, this way, this Thou greatest Ornament and pride of Greece.

These Philosophers said, that all the Glory of the World was not worth an understanding mans holding out his Finger to obtain it;

Gloria quantalibet quid erit, si Gloria tantum est?* 1.548

What's Glory in the high'st degree If it no more but Glory be?

I say for it alone: for it often brings several commodities along with it, for which it may justly be desir'd: it acquires us good will, and renders us less subject and expos'd to the inju∣ries of others, and the like. It was also one of the principal Doctrines of Epicurus; for this Precept of his Sect, Conceal thy Life, that forbids men to incumber themselves with Offices and publick Negotiations, does also ne∣cessarily presuppose a contempt of Glory, which is the worlds approbation of those actions we produce in publick. He that bids us conceal our selves, and to have no other Concern but for our selves, and that will not have us known to others, would much less have us honour'd and glorifi'd. He advises Idomeneus also, not in any sort to regulate his Actions by the common re∣putation,

or opinion; if not to avoid the other accidental inconveniences that the contempt of men might bring upon him. Those Discourses are in my opinion very true and rational: but we are, I know not how, double in our selves, which is the cause that what we believe we do not believe, and cannot disengage our selves from what we condem. Let us see the last, and dying words of Epicurus; they are great, and worthy of such a Philosopher, and yet they carry some marks of the recommendation of his name, and of that humour he had decried by his Pre∣cepts. Here is a Letter that he dictated a little before his last gasp.

Epicurus to Hermachus, health.

WHilst I was passing over the happy, and last day of my Life, I writ this; but at the same time, afflicted with such a pain in my Bladder and Bowels, that nothing can be greater. But it was re∣compenc'd with the Pleasure the remembrance of my Inventions and Doctrines suggested to my Soul. Now, as the affection thou hast ever from thy In∣fancy borne towards me, and Philosophy does re∣quire, take upon thee the Protection of Metrodorus his Children.

This is the Letter. And that which makes me interpret that the Pleasure he says he had in his Soul, concerning his Inventions, has some re∣ference to the Reputation he hop'd for after his Death, is the manner of his Will. In which he gives order, that Aminomachus and Timocrates,

his Heirs, should every January defray the Ex∣pence for the Celebration of his Nativity, that Hermachus should appoint; and also the expence that should be made the twentieth of every Moon in entertaining of the Philosophers, his Friends, who should assemble in Honour of the Memory of him and Metrodorus. Carneades was Head of the contrary Opinion: and maintain'd that Glory was to be desir'd for it self, even as we embrace our Posthumes for themselves, ha∣ving no Knowledge nor Enjoyment of them. This Opinion was more universally follow'd, as those commonly are that are most suitable to our Inclinations. Aristotle gives it the first place amongst eternal Goods: and avoids, as too ex∣tream Vices, the immoderate either seeking or evading it. I believe that if we had the Books Cicero has writ upon this Subject, we should there find fine Stories, for he was so possess'd with this Passion, that if he had dar'd, I think he could willingly have fallen into the excess that others did, that Virtue it self was not to be coveted,* 2.1 but upon the account of the Honour that alwayes at∣tends it.

Paulum sepultae distat inertiae* 2.2 Celata virtus —

Virtue, if concealed, doth Little differ from dead Sloth.

Which is an Opinion so false, that I am vext it could ever enter into the Understanding of a man that was honour'd with the name of a Philosopher. If this was true, Men should not be Virtuous

but in publick, and he should be no further concern'd to keep the operation of the Soul, which is the true seat of Vertue, regular and in order, than as they are to arrive at the know∣ledge of others. Is there no more in it then but only slily, and with Circumspection to do ill? If thou knowest, says Carneades, of a Serpent lurk∣ing in a place, where without suspicion, a Person is going to sit down, by whose Death thou expect'st an Advantage, thou dost ill, if thou dost not give him caution of his Danger; and so much the more because the Action is to be known by none but thy self. If we do not take up of our selves a rule of well doing, if Impunity passes with us for Ju∣stice, to how many sorts of Wickedness shall we every day abandon our selves? I do not find what Sp. Peduceus did, in faithfully restoring the Treasure that C. Plotius had committed to his sole Secrecy and Trust; (a thing that I have often done my self) so commendable, as I should think it an execrable baseness had we done other∣wise. And think it of good use in our dayes to introduce the Example of P. Sextilius Ruffus, whom Cicero accuses to have enter'd upon an In∣heritance contrary to his Conscience, not only not against Law, but even by the Determination of the Laws themselves. And M. Crassus, and Q. Hortensius, who, by reason of their Authori∣ty and Power, having been call'd in by a Stranger to share in the Succession of a forg'd Will, that so he might secure his own part; satisfied them∣selves with having no hand in the Forgery, and refus'd not to make their Advantage, and to

come in for a share: secure enough if they could shrowd themselves from Accusations, Witnesses, and the Cognizance of the Laws. Meminerint Deum se habere testem,* 2.3 id est (ut ego arbitror) mentem suam. Let them consider they have God to witness, that is (as I interpret it) their own Con∣sciences. Vertue is a very vain and frivolous thing, if it derives its recommendation from Glo∣ry. And 'tis to no purpose that we endeavour to give it a Station by it self, and separate it from Fortune; for what is more accidental than Re∣putation? Profecto Fortuna, in omni re domina∣tur: ea res cunctas ex libidine,* 2.4 magis quam ex vero celebrat, obscuratque. Fortune rules in all things, and does advance and depress things more out of her own Will, than Right and Justice. So to or∣der it that Actions may be known and seen, is purely the work of Fortune; 'tis Chance that helps us to glory, according to its own temeri∣ty. I have often seen her go along with Merit, and often very much exceed it. He that first li∣ken'd Glory to a shadow, did better than he was aware of. They are both of them things ex∣cellently vain. Glory also, like a shadow, goes sometimes before the Body, and sometimes in length infinitely exceeds it. They that instruct Gentlemen only to employ their Valour for the obtaining of Honour: Quasi non sit honestum,* 2.5 quod nobilitatum non sit. As though it were not a Vertue unless ennobled. What do they intend by that, but to instruct them never to hazard them∣selves if they are not seen, and to observe well, if there be Witnesses present, who may carry

News of their Valour; whereas a thousand Oc∣casions of well doing present themselves, when we cannot be taken notice of? How many brave Actions are buried in the crowd of a Battel? Whoever shall take upon him to censure ano∣thers Behaviour in such a Confusion, is not very busie himself; and the Testimony he shall give of his Companions Deportments, will be Evi∣dence against himself. Vera, & sapiens Animi magnitudo honestum illud quod maxime naturam sequitur, in factis positum, non in Gloria judicat. The true and wise magnanimity judges, that the bravery which most follows Nature, more consists in Act than Glory. All the Glory that I pretend to derive from my Life, is that I have liv'd it in quiet. In quiet, not according to Metrodorus, Archesilans, or Aristippus, but according to my self; for seeing Philosophy has not been able to find out any way to tranquility that is good in common, let every one seek it in particular. To what do Caesar and Alexander owe the infinite grandeur of their Renown, but to Fortune? How many Men has she extinguish'd in the beginning of their Progress, of whom we have no Know∣ledge; who brought as much Courage to the Work as they, if their adverse hap had not cut them off in the first sally of their Arms? Amongst so many and so great Dangers, I do not remem∣ber I have any where read, that Caesar was ever wounded; a thousand have fallen in less Dan∣gers, than the least of those he went through. A great many brave Actions must be expected to be perform'd without Witness, and so lost,

before one turn to account. A man is not al∣wayes on the top of a Breach, or at the head of an Army in the sight of his General, as upon a Scaffold. A man is oft surpris'd betwixt the Hedg and the Ditch, he must run the hazard of his Life against a Hen-roost, he must bolt four ras∣cally Musketeers out of a Barn, he must prick out single from his Party, and alone make some Attempts, according as Necessity will have it. And whoever will observe, will, I believe, find it experimentally true, that Occasions of the least Lustre, are ever the most dangerous: and that in the Wars of our own Times there have more brave Men been lost in Occasions of little moment, and in the dispute about some little paltery Fort, than in Places of greater Impor∣tance, and where their Valours might have been more honourably employ'd. Who thinks his Death unworthy of him, if he do not fall in some signal Occasions; instead of illustrating his Death, does willfully obscure his Life, suffering in the mean time many very just Occasions of hazarding himself to slip out of his Hands. And every just one is illustrious enough: every mans Conscience being a sufficient Trumpet to him. Gloria nostra est, Testimonium Conscientiae nostrae.* 2.6 For our rejoycing is this, the Testimony of our Con∣science. Who is only a good Man that Men may know it, and that he may be the better esteem'd when 'tis known; who will not do well, but upon Condition that his Virtue may be known to Men, is one from whom much Service is not to be expected.

* 2.7Credo ch' el resto di quel verno, cose Facesse degne di tener ne conto, Ma fur fin à quel tempo si nascose, Che non è colpa mia s'hor 'nor le conto, Porche Orlando a far 'opre virtuose Piu ch'à narra le poi sempre era pronto, Ne mai fu alcun' de li suoi fatti espresso, Senon quando hebbei testimonii appresso.

The rest o'th Winter I presume was spent In Actions worthy of eternal Fame; Which at the end was so, in Darkness pent, That if I name them not, I'm not to blame, Orlando's noble Mind being more bent To do great Acts, than boast him of the same; So that no Deeds of his were ever known, But those that luckily had lookers on.

A Man must go to the War upon the account of Duty, and expect the Recompence that ne∣ver fails brave and worthy Actions, how private and conceal'd soever, not so much as Virtuous Thoughts; 'Tis the Satisfaction that a well dis∣pos'd Conscience receives in it self, to do well. A Man must be valiant for himself, and upon the account of the Advantage it is to him, to have his Courage seated in a firm and secure place against the Assaults of Fortune.

Virtus repulsae nescia sordidae, Intaminatis fulget honoribus. Nec sumit, aut ponit secures Arbitrio popularis aurae.

Virtue, that n'ere Repulse admits,* 2.8 In taintless honours glorious sits, Nor takes, or leaveth Dignities Rais'd with the Noise of vulgar Cries.

It is not for outward shew that the Soul is to play its part, but for our selves within, where no Eyes can pierce but our own; there she de∣fends us from the fear of Death, of Pains, and Shame it self: she there arms us against the loss of our Children, Friends, and Fortunes: and when Opportunity presents it self, she leads us on to the Hazards of War. Non emolumento aliquo,* 2.9 sed ipsius honestatis decore. Not for any Profit or Advantage, but for the Decency of Virtue. A much greater Advantage, and more worthy to be coveted and hop'd for, than Honour and Glory;* 2.10 which is no other than the favourable Judgment is given of us. A dozen men must be call'd out of a whole Nation to judge of an Acre of Land, and the Judgment of our Inclinations and Actions, the hardest, and most important thing that is, we refer to the Voice, and deter∣minations of the Rabble, the Mother of Igno∣rance, Injustice, and Inconstancy. Is it reasonable that the Life of a wise Man should depend upon the Judgment of Fools? An quidquam stultius,* 2.11 quam quos singulos contemnas, eos aliquid putare esse universos? Can any thing be more foolish, than to think that those you dispise single, can be any other when joyn'd together? He that makes it his Business to please them, will have enough to do,

and never have done; 'tis a Mark that never is to be reach'd or hit. Nil tam inestimabile est, quam animi multitudinis. Nothing is to be so lit∣tle esteem'd, as the Minds of the Multitude. Deme∣trius pleasantly said of the Voice of the People, that he made no more account of that which came from above, than of that which sum'd from below.* 2.12 Cicero says more, Ego hoc judico, si quan∣do turpe non sit, tamen non esse non turpe, quum id à multitudine landatur. I am of Opinion, that though a thing be not foul in it self, yet it cannot but become so when commended by the Multitude. No Art, no activity of Wit could conduct our steps so as to follow so wandring and so irregu∣lar a Guide. In this windy Confusion of the Noise of vulgar Reports and Opinions that drive us on, no way worth any thing can be chosen. Let us not propose to our selves so floating and wavering an end; let us follow constantly after Reason, let the publick Approbation follow us there, if it will, and it wholly depending upon Fortune, we have no Reason sooner to expect it by any other way than that. Though I would not follow the right way because it is right, I should however follow it for having experimen∣tally found, that at the end of the reckoning, 'tis commonly the most happy, and of greatest Utility. Dedit hoc providentia hominibus munus, ut honesta magis juvarent. This Gift Providence has given to men, that honest things should be the most delightful. The Mariner said thus to Nep∣tune, O God, thou mayest save me if thou wilt, and if thou wilt thou mayest destroy me; but however I

will steer my Rudder true. I have seen in my time a thousand Men of easie and ambiguous Natures, and that no one doubted but they were more worldly wise than I, throw themselves away, where I have sav'd one.

Risi successus posse carere dolos.* 2.13

I have laught I must confess, To see cunning want Success.

Paulus Aemylius, going in the glorious Expe∣dition of Macedonia, above all things charg'd the People of Rome, not to speak of his Actions du∣ring his Absence. O, the Licence of Judgments is a great disturbance to great Affairs! Forasmuch as every one has not the Constancy of Fabius against common adverse and injurious wayes: who rather suffer'd his Authority to be dissect∣ed by the vain Fancies of Men, than to go less in his Charge with a favourable Reputation and the popular Applause. There is, I know not what natural sweetness in hearing a man's self commended; but we are a great deal too fond of it.

Laudari haud metuam,* 2.14 neque enim mihi cornea fibra est, Sed recti finemque extremumque esse recuso Euge tuum, & belle.—

I love to be commended I confess, My Heart is not of Horn, but nevertheless I must deny the only end and aim Of doing well is to hear men exclaim, O worthy Man! O noble Act!

I care not so much what I am in the Opini∣on of others, as what I am in my own. I would be rich of my self, and not by borrowing. Strangers see nothing but Events and outward Apparences; every body can set a good Face on the matter, when they have trembling and terrour within. They do not see my Heart, they see but by my Countenance. 'Tis with good Reason that Men decry the Hypocrisie that is in War; for what is more easie to an old Souldi∣er, than to shift in a time of Danger, and to counterfeit the brave, when he has no more Heart than a Chicken? There are so many wayes to avoid hazarding a man's own Person, that we have deceiv'd the World a thousand times, before we come to be engag'd in a real Danger: and even then, finding our selves in an inevita∣ble necessity of doing something, we can make shift for that time to conceal our Apprehensi∣ons with setting a good Face on the Business, though the Heart beats within; and whoever had the use of the Platonick Ring, which ren∣ders those invisible that wear it, if turn'd in∣ward towards the palm of the Hand; a great many would very often hide themselves when they ought most to appear; and would repent being plac'd in so honourable a post, where Ne∣cessity must make them brave.

Falsus honor juvat,* 2.15 & mendax infamia terret Quem nisi mendosum, & mendacem?

False Honour pleases,* 2.16 and false Infamy Affrights, whom? those that love to hear a lye.

Thus we see how all the Judgments that are founded upon external Apparences, are marvel∣lously incertain and doubtful; and that there is no so certain Testimony as every one is to him∣self. In these other, how many Pedy's are made Companions of our Glory? He that stands firm in an open Trench, what does he in that do more than fifty poor Pioneers, who open him the way, and cover it with their own Bodies for five pence a day pay, have done before him?

—non quicquid turbida Roma* 2.17 Elevet, accedas, examenque improbum in illa Castiges trutina, nec te quaesiveris extrà.

Don't follow turbid Rome's blind senceless ways Of loading ev'ry thing is done with Praise; Of that false Ballance trust not to the test, And out of thee make of thy self no quest.

The dispersing and scattering our names into many Mouths, we call making them more great; we will have them there well receiv'd, and that this increase turn to their Advantage, which is all that can be excusable in this Design; but the excess of this Disease proceeds so far, that many covet to

have a Name be it what it will. Trogus Pom∣peius says of Herostratus and Titus Livius of Man∣lius Capitolinus, that they were more ambitious of a great Reputation, than a good one. This Vice is very common. We are more sollicitous that Men speak of us, than how they speak; and 'tis enough for us that our Names are often mention'd, be it after what manner it will. It should seem, that to be known, is in some sort to have a Man's Life and its duration in another's keeping. I for my part hold, that I am not but in my self, and of that other Life of mine which lies in the Knowledge of my Friends, to consi∣der it naked and simply in it self, I know very well that I am sensible of no Fruit nor Enjoy∣ment, but by the Vanity of a fantastick Opi∣nion; and when I shall be dead, I shall be much less sensible of it; and shall withall absolutely lose the use of those real Advantages that some∣times accidentally follow it; I shall have no more handle whereby to take hold of Reputati∣on; neither shall it have any whereby to take hold of, or to cleave to me. For, to expect that my Name should be advanc'd by it, in the first place, I have no Name that is enough my own; of two that I have, one is common to all my Race, and even to others also. There are two Fa∣milies at Paris and Montpellier, whose surname is Montaigne; another in Brittany, and another Montaigne in Xaintonge. The Transposition of one Syllable only is enough to ravel our Affairs, so that I shall peradventure share in their Glory, and they shall partake of my Shame; and more∣over,

my Ancestors have formerly been surnam'd Eyquem, a Name wherein a Family well known in England, is at this day concern'd. As to my other Name, every one may take it that will. And so per∣haps I may honour a Porter in my own stead. And besides, though I had a particular Distinction by my self, what can it distinguish when I am no more? Can it point out, and favour Inanity?

— nunc levior cippus non imprimit ossa,* 2.18 Laudat posteritas, nunc non è manibus illis, Nunc non è tumulo fortunataque favilla Nascuntur violae? —

Will a less Tomb, compos'd of smaller Stones, Press with less weight upon the under Bones? Posterity may praise them, why, what tho? Can yet their Manes such a Gift bestow, As to make Violets from their Ashes grow?

But of this I have spoken elsewhere. As to what remains, in a great Battel where ten thousand Men are maim'd or kill'd, there are not fifteen that are taken notice of. It must be some very eminent greatness, or some consequence of great Importance, that Fortune has added to it, that must signalize a private Action, not of a Harque∣buser only, but of a great Captain; for to kill a man, or two, or ten, to expose a Mans self bravely to the utmost Peril of Death, is indeed something in every one of us, because we there hazard all; but for the Worlds concern, they are things so ordinary, and so many of them are every day seen, and there must of Necessity be so many of the same kind to produce any notable Effect, that we can∣not expect any particular Renown.

* 2.19—casus multis hic cognitus, ac jam Tritus, & è medio fortunae ductus acervo.

The action once was fam'd, but now worn old, With common acts of Fortune is enroll'd.

Of so many thousands of valiant men that have died within these fifteen years in France, with their Swords in their hands, not a hundred have come to our knowledge. The memory, not of the Commanders only, but of Battels and Vi∣ctories is buried and gone. The Fortunes of a∣bove half of the world, for want of a Record, stir not from their place, and vanish without duration. If I had unknown Events in my pos∣session, I should think with great ease to out-do those that are recorded in all sorts of Examples. Is it not strange, that even of the Greeks and Romans, amongst so many Writers, and Wit∣nesses, and so many rare and noble Exploits, so few are arriv'd at our knowledge?

* 2.20Ad nos vix tenuis famae perlabitur aura.

An obscure rumor scarce is hither come.

It will be much if a hundred years hence it be remembred in gross, that in our times there were Civil Wars in France. The Lacedaemoni∣ans entering into Battel,* 2.21 sacrific'd to the Muses, to the end that their Actions might be well and worthily writ; looking upon it as a Divine, and no ordinary favour, that brave Acts should find Witnesses that could give them Life and Memo∣ry.

Do we expect that at every Musquet shot we receive, and at every hazard we run, there must be a Register ready to record them? and besides, a hundred Registers may enroll them, whose Commentaries will not last above three days, and they shall never come to the sight of any one. We have not the thousandth part of ancient Writings; 'tis fortune that gives them a shorter or longer Life according to her favour; and 'tis lawful to doubt whether those we have be not the worst, having not seen the rest. Men do not write Histories of things of so little mo∣ment: a man must have been General in the Conquest of an Empire, he must have won two and fifty set Battels, and always the weaker in number, as Caesar did. Ten thousand brave Fel∣lows, and several great Captains lost their lives bravely in his Service, whose Names lasted no longer than their Wives and Children liv'd:

Quos fama obscura recondit.* 2.22

Even those we see behave themselves the best; three months, or three years after they have been knock'd on the Head, they are no more spoken of than if they had never been. Whoever will justly consider, and with due proportion, of what kind of men, and of what sorts of actions Glory supports it self, in the Records of History will find, that there are very few Actions, and very few Persons of our times who can there pretend any right. How many worthy men have we seen survive their own Reputation, who have

seen and suffered the Honour and Glory most justly acquir'd in their Youth, extinguish'd in in their own presence? And for three years of this fantastick and imaginary Life, we must go and throw away our true and essential Life, and engage our selves in a perpetual Death? The Sages propose to themselves a nobler and more just end in so important an Enterprize. Rectè facti,* 2.23 fecisse merces est: officii fructus, ipsum offi∣cium est. The reward of a thing well done is to have done it: the fruit of a good Office, is the Office it self. It were peradventure excusable in a Painter, or any other Artizan, or yet in a Rhetorician, or a Grammarian, to endeavour to raise them∣selves a Name by their Works; but the actions of Vertue are too noble in themselves, to seek any other reward than from their own value, and especially to seek it in the vanity of Humane Judgements. If this false Opinion nevertheless be of that use to the Publick, as to keep men in their duty; if the People are thereby stir'd up to Ver∣tue; if Princes are touch'd to see the world bless the memory of Trajan, and abominate that of Nero; if it moves them to see the name of that great Beast, once so terrible, and fear'd by eve∣ry School-boy, so freely curs'd and revil'd, let it in the name of God increase, and be as much as possibly, nurss'd up, cherish'd, and countenan∣ced amongst us. And Plato, bending his whole Endeavour to make his Citizens Virtuous, does also advise them not to despise the good esteem of the People; and says, that it falls out by a certain Divine Inspiration, that even the wicked

themselves oft-times, as well by Word as Opi∣nion, can rightly distinguish the Virtuous from the Wicked. This Person and his Tutor are both marvellous bold Artificers, every where to add Divine Operations and Revelations where humane force is wanting. And peradventure for this Reason it was, that Timon, railing at him, call'd him the great forger of Miracles.* 2.24 Vt trajici Poetae confugiunt ad Deum, cum explicare argu∣menti exitum non possunt. As tragick Poets fly to some God, when they cannot explain the issue of their Argument. Seeing that Men by their insuf∣ficiency cannot pay themselves well enough with current Money, let the counterfeit be superad∣ed. 'Tis a way that has been practis'd by all the Legislators; and there is no Government that has not some mixture either of ceremonial Vanity, or of false Opinion, that serves for a curb to keep the People in their Duty. 'Tis for this that most of them have their fabulous Originals and Beginnings, and so enrich'd with supernatural Mysteries. 'Tis this that has given Credit to Ba∣stard Religions, and caus'd them to be counte∣nanc'd by men of Understanding; and for this that Numa and Sextorius, to possess their Men with a better Opinion of them, fed them with this Foppery; one, That the Nympth Egeria, the other, That his white Hind, brought them all their Resolutions from the Gods. And the Au∣thority that Numa gave to his Laws under the Title of a Patronage of this Goddess; Zeroaster, Legislator of the Bactrians and Persians, gave to his under the name of Oromazis: Trismegistus Le¦gislator

of the Egyptians, under that of Mercury; Xamobxis Legislator of the Scythians, under that of Vesta: Charondas Legislator of the Chalcedo∣nians, under that of Saturn: Minos Legislator of the Candiots, under that of Jupiter: Licurgus Legislator of the Lacedaemonians, under that of Apollo: and Draco, and Solon, Legislators of the Athenians, under that of Minerva. And every Government has a God at the head of it; others falsely, that truly which Moses set over the Jews at their departure out of Egypt. The Religion of of the Bedoins, as the Sire de Joinville reports, amongst other things, enjoin'd a Belief, that the Soul of him amongst them who died for his Prince, went into another more happy Body, more beautiful, and more robust than the for∣mer; by which means they much more willing∣ly ventur'd their Lives:

* 2.25In ferrum mens prona viris, animaeque capaces Mortis, & ignavum est rediturae parcere vitae.

Men covet wounds, and strive Death to em∣brace, To save a Life, that's to return, is base.

This is a very comfortable, however an erroni∣ous Belief. Every Nation has many such Exam∣ples of it's own: but this Subject would require a Treatise by it self. To add one word more to my former Discourse, I would advise the Ladies no more to call that Honour, which is but their Duty,* 2.26 Vt enim consuetudo loquitur, id solum di∣citur honestum, quod est populari fama gloriosum:

According to the vulgar Chat, which only approves that for laudable, that is glorious by the publick Voice; their Duty is the mark, their Honour but the outward rind. Neither would I advise them to give that excuse for payment of their denial: for I presuppose that their Intentions, their De∣sire, and Will, which are things wherein their Honour is not at all concern'd, forasmuch as no∣thing appears without, are much better regula∣ted than the effects.

Quae quia non liceat, non facit, illa facit.* 2.27

She, who not sins, 'cause it unlawful is, In being therefore Chaste has done amiss.

The Offence both towards God, and in the Conscience, would be as great to desire as to do it. And besides, they are Actions so private and secret of themselves, as would be easily enough kept from the Knowledge of others wherein the Honour Consists, if they had not another respect to their Duty, and the Affection they bear to Chastity for it self. Every Woman of Honour, will much rather choose to lose her Honour, than to hurt her Conscience.

CHAP. XVII. Of Presumption.

THere is another sort of Glory, which is the having too good an opinion of our own Worth. 'Tis an inconsiderate Affection,

with which we flatter our selves, and that re∣presents us to our selves other than we truly are. Like the passion of Love, that lends beau∣ties and graces to the Person it does embrace; and that makes those who are caught with it, with a deprav'd and corrupt Judgement, consi∣der the thing they love, other and more perfect than it is. I would not nevertheless for fear of failing on the other side, that a man should not know himself aright, or think himself less than he is, the Judgement ought in all things to keep it self upright and just: 'tis all the reason in the world he should discern in himself, as well as in others, what Truth sets before him; if it be Cae∣sar, let him boldly think himself the greatest Captain in the world. We are nothing but Ce∣remony; Ceremony carries us away, and we leave the Substance of things: we hold by the Branches, and quit the Trunk. We have taught the Ladies to blush when they hear that but nam'd, that they are not at all afraid to do: we dare not call our members by their right names, and are not afraid to employ them in all sorts of De∣bauches. Ceremony forbids us to express by words things that are lawful and natural, and we obey it: Reason forbids us to do things un∣lawful and ill, and no body obeys it. I find my self here fetter'd by the Laws of Ceremony; for it neither permits a man to speak well of himself, nor ill. We will leave her there for this time. They whom fortune (call it good or ill) has made to pass their Lives in some eminent degree, may by their publick Actions manifest what they

are: but they whom she has only employed in the crowd, and of whom no body will say a word unless they speak themselves, are to be excus'd if they take the boldness to speak of themselves to such whose Interest it is to know them; by the Example of Lucilius,

Ille velut fidis arcana sodalibus olim* 2.28 Credebat libris, neque si malè cesserat, usquam Decurrens alio, neque si benè: quo fit ut omnis▪ Votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella Vita senis. —

His way was in his Books to speak his mind* 2.29 As freely, as his Secrets he would tell To a try'd Friend, and took it ill, or well He held his Custom. Hence it came to pass The old man's Life is there as in a Glass.

He always committed to Paper his Actions and Thoughts, and there pourtray'd himself, such as he found himself to be. Nec id Rutilio,* 2.30 & Scauro citra fidem, aut obtrectationi fuit. Nor were Rutilius or Scaurus misbeliev'd, or condemn'd for so doing. I remember then, that from my In∣fancy there was observ'd in me I know not what kind of Carriage and Behaviour, that seem'd to relish of Pride and Arrogancy. I will say this by the way, that it is not inconvenient to have Propensions so proper and incorporated into us, that we have not the means to feel and be aware of them. And of such natural Inclinati∣ons the Body will retain a certain bent, with∣out

our Knowledge or Consent. It was an Af∣fectation confederate with his Beauty, that made Alexander carry his Head on one side, and Al∣cibiades to lisp; Julius Caesar scratch'd his Head with one Finger, which is the fashion of a Man full of troublesome Thoughts: and Cicero, as I remember, was wont to tweak his Nose, a sign of a Man given to scoffing. Such Motions as these may imperceptibly happen in us: there are other artificial ones which I meddle not with; as Sa∣lutations and Congees, by which Men for the most part unjustly acquire the Reputation of being humble and courteous; or perhaps, humble out of Pride. I am prodigal enough of my Hat, especially in Summer, and never am so saluted, but I pay it again, from Persons of what quality soever, unless they be in my own dependance. I should make it my Request to some Princes that I know, that they would be more sparing of that Ceremony, and bestow that Courtesie where it is more due; for being so indiscreetly and indifferently confer'd on all, they are thrown away to no purpose, if they be without respect of Persons, they lose their Effect. Amongst ir∣regular Countenances, let us not forget that severe one of the Emperour Constantius, that al∣wayes in publick held his Head upright and steady, without bending or turning on either side, not so much as to look upon those who sa∣luted him on one side, planting his Body in a stiff immoveable posture, without suffering it to yield to the Motion of his Coach; not daring so much as to spit, blow his Nose, or wipe

his Face before People. I know not whether the Gestures that were observ'd in me were of this first quality, and whether I had really any se∣cret propension to this Vice, as it might well be; and I cannot be responsible for the Moti∣ons of the Body: but as to the Motions of the Soul, I must here confess that I am sensible of something of that kind there.* 2.31 This Glory con∣sists of two parts, the one in setting too great a value upon our selves, and the other in setting too little a value upon others. As to the one, methinks these Considerations ought in the first place to be of some force. I feel my self impor∣tun'd by an Errour of the Soul that displeases me, both as it is unjust, and as it is troublesome. I attempt to correct it, but I cannot root it out, which is, that I lessen the just value of things that I possess, and overvalue others, because they are foreign, absent, and none of mine. This Hu∣mour spreads very far. As the prerogative of the Authority which makes Husbands look up∣on their own Wives with a vicious disdain, and many Fathers their Children, so do I: and be∣twixt two equal Merits should alwayes be sway'd against my own. Not so much that the jealousie of my Preferment, and the bettering of my Af∣fairs does trouble my Judgment, and hinders me from satisfying my self, as that Dominion of it self begets a Contempt of what is our own, and over which we have an absolute Command. Foreign Governments, Manners, and Languages, insinuate themselves into my esteem; and I am very sensible that Latin allures me by the Fa∣vour

of it's Dignity, to value it above it's due, as it does Children, and the common sort of Peo∣ple. The Oeconomy, House, and Horse of my Neigh∣bour, though no better than my own, I prize above my own, because they are not mine. Be∣sides that, I am very ignorant in my own Affairs; I am astonish'd at the assurance that every one has of himself: whereas there is not almost any thing that I am sure I know, or that I dare be responsible to my self that I can do: I have not my means of doing any thing stated and ready, and am only instructed after the effect, as doubt∣ful of my own force as I am of anothers; whence it comes to pass, that if I happen to do any thing commendable, I attribute it more to my Fortune than Industry: forasmuch as I design every thing by chance, and in fear. I have this also in gene∣ral, that of all the Opinions Antiquity has held of men in gross, I most willingly embrace, and most adhere to those that most contemn and un∣dervalue us. Methinks Philosophy has never so fair a Game to play as when it falls upon our Vanity and Presumption; when it most lays open their Irresolution, Weakness, and Igno∣rance. I look upon the too good Opinion that Man has of himself to be the nursing Mother of all the most false, both publick and private Opi∣nions. Those People, who ride astride upon the Epicicle of Mercury, who see so far into the Heavens, are worse to me than a Tooth-draw∣er that comes to draw my Teeth: for in my Study, the Subject of which is Man, finding so great a variety of Judgements, so great a

Labyrinth of Difficulties one upon another, so great diversity and incertainty, even in the School of Wisdom it self, you may judge, see∣ing those People could not resolve upon the knowledge of themselves, and their own con∣dition, which is continually before their Eyes, and within them, seeing they do not know how that moves which they themselves move, nor how to give us a Description of the Springs they themselves govern and make use of; how can I believe them about the eb∣bing and flowing of Nile. The curiosity of knowing things, has been given to Man for a Scourge, says the holy Scripture. But to return to what concerns my self; I think it ve∣ry hard, that any other should have a meaner Opinion of himself, nay, that any other should have a meaner Opinion of me than I have of my self. I look upon my self as one of the common sort, saving in this, that I have no better an Opinion of my self; guilty of the meanest and most popular defects, but not dis∣own'd or excus'd; and do not value my self upon any other account than because I know my own value. If there be any Glory in the case, 'tis superficially infus'd into me by the trea∣chery of my Complexion, and has no Body that my Judgement can discern. I am sprinkled, but not tincted. For in Truth, as to the effects of the Mind, there is no part of me, be it what it will, with which I am satisfied: and the Appro∣bation of others makes me not think the better of my self; my Judgement is tender and tickle,

especially in things that concern my self; I feel my self float and waver by reason of my weak∣ness. I have nothing of my own that satisfies my Judgment: my sight is clear and regular enough, but in opening it, it is apt to dazle; as I most manifestly find in Poesie. I love it infinitely, and am able to give a tolerable Judgment of other mens Works: but in good earnest, when I ap∣ply my self to it, I play the Child, and am not able to endure my self. A Man may play the fool in every thing else, but not in Poetry.

* 2.32— Mediocribus esse Poetis Non dii, non homines, non concessere columnae.

* 2.33But neither Men, nor Gods, nor Pillars meant Poets should ever be indifferent.

I would to God this Sentence was writ over the Doors of all our Printers, to forbid the en∣trance of so many Rimers.

* 2.34— verum Nihil securius est malo Poeta.

— but the truth is this— Nought more secure than a bad Poet is.

Why have not we such People? Dyonysius the Father valu'd himself so much upon nothing as his Poetry. At the Olympick Games, with Cha∣riots surpassing the others in Magnificence, he sent also Poets and Musicians to present his Ver∣ses,

with Tents and Pavillions royally gilt and hung with Tapistry. When his Verses came to be recited, the excellency of the Pronunciati∣on did at first attract the attention of the Peo∣ple; but when they afterwards came to poise the meanness of the Composition, they first en∣ter'd into disdain, and continuing to nettle their Judgments, presently proceeded to Fury, and ran to pull down, and tear to pieces all his Pa∣vilions: and in that his Chariots neither perform'd any thing to purpose in the course; and that the Ship which brought back his People fail'd of making Sicily, and was by the Tempest driven and wrack'd upon the Coast of Tarantum, they did certainly believe was thorough the Anger of the Gods, incens'd, as they themselves were, against that paltry Poem; and even the Mariners who escap'd from the wrack, seconded this Opi∣nion of the People: to which also the Oracle that foretold his Death seem'd to subscribe; which was, That Dionysius should be near his end, when he should have overcome those who were better than himself, which he interpreted of the Carthaginians, who surpass'd him in Power; and having War with them, often declin'd the Vi∣ctory, not to incur the Sence of this Prediction. But he understood it ill; for the God pointed at the time of the Advantage that by Favour and Injustice he obtain'd at Athens over the Tragick Poets, better than himself, having caus'd his own Play call'd the Leineicus to be acted in Emu∣lation. Presently after which Victory he died, and partly of the excessive Joy he conceiv'd at

the Success. What I find tolerable of mine, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 not so really, and in it self: but in compariso•• of other worse things, that I see are well enough receiv'd. I envy the Happiness of those that can please and hug themselves, in what they do, for 'tis a very easie thing to be so pleas'd, be∣cause a Man extracts that pleasure from himself, especially if he be constant in his self-conceit. I know a Poet, against whom both the Intelli∣gent in Poetry, and the Ignorant, abroad and at home, both Heaven and Earth, exclaim, that he understands very little in it; and yet for all that, he has never a whit the worse opi∣nion of himself: but is always falling upon some new Piece, always contriving some new Invention, and still persists; by so much the more obstinate, as it only concerns him to stand up in his own Defence. My Works are so far from pleasing me, that as oft as I review them they disgust me:

* 2.35Cum relego, scripsisse pudet, quia plurima cerno, Me quoque qui feci, judice digna lini.

When I peruse, I blush at what I've Writ, Seeing 'tis only for the Fier fit.

I have always an Idea in my Soul, which pre∣sents me a better Form than that I have made use of; but I cannot catch it, nor fit it to my purpose; and yet even that Idea is but of the meaner sort, by which I conclude, that the produ∣ctions of those great Souls of former times, as very

much beyond the utmost stretch of my Imagi∣nation, or my wish: their Writings do not only satisfie and fill me, but they astonish me, and ra∣vish me with Admiration. I judge of their Beau∣ty, I see it, if not to the utmost, yet so far at least as 'tis possible for me to aspire. Whatever I undertake, I owe a Sacrifice to the Graces, as Plutarch says of some one, to make a return for their Favour.

— si quid enim placet, Si quid dulce hominum sensibus influit, Debentur lepidis omnia gratiis.

If any thing does please that I do write, Into Mens Minds if it infuse delight, All's to the lovely Graces due.

They abandon me throughout: all I write is rude, polishing and Beauty are wanting: I can∣not set things off to any advantage, my handling adds nothing to the Matter; for which Reason I must have it forcible, very full, and that has lustre of its own. If I pitch upon Subjects that are popular and gay, 'tis to follow my own In∣clination, who do not affect a grave and cere∣monious Wisdom, as the World does; and to make my self more spritely, but not to make my stile more wanton,* 2.36 which would rather have them grave and severe, at least, if I may call an in∣form and irregular way of speaking, a vulgar jargon, and a proceeding without Definition, Di∣vision, and without Conclusion, perplext like

that of Amafanius and Raberius, a Stile. I can neither please nor delight, much less ravish any one: the best Story in the World would be spoil'd by my handling. I cannot speak but in earnest; and am totally unprovided of that Fa∣cility which I observe in many of my Acquain∣tance, of entertaining the first commers, and keeping a whole company in Breath, or taking up the care of a Prince with all sorts of Dis∣course, without being weary: they never want∣ing Matter, by reason of the Faculty and Grace they have in taking hold of the first thing is started, and accommodating it to the Humor and Capacity of those with whom they have to do. Princes do not much affect solid Discour∣ses, nor I to tell Stories. The first and easiest Reasons, which are commonly the best taken, I know not how to employ. I am an ill Orator to the common sort. I am apt of every thing to say the utmost that I know. Cicero is of Opini∣on, that in Treatises of Philosophy the exordium is the hardest part: which, if it be true, I am wise in sticking to the Conclusion. And yet we are to know how to wind the string to all Notes, and the sharpest is that which is the most sel∣dom touch'd. There is at least as much perfecti∣on in elevating an empty, as in supporting a weighty thing. A man must sometimes superfici∣ally handle things, and sometimes push them home. I know very well, that most Men keep themselves in this lower form, for not concei∣ving things otherwise than by this outward bark: but I likewise know, that the greatest

Masters, and Xenophon and Plato are often seen to stoop to this low and popular manner of speak∣ing and treating of things, and maintaining them with Graces, which are never wanting to them. As to the rest, my Language has nothing in it that is facile and fluent: 'tis rough, free, and ir∣regular: and therefore best pleases not my Judgment, but Inclination. But I very well per∣ceive, that I sometimes give my self too much rein, and that by force of endeavour to avoid Art and Affectation, I fall into the other Incon∣venience.

— brevis esse laboro,* 2.37 Obscurus fio. —

I strive Prolixity t'evade, And by that means obscure am made.

Plato sayes, that the long, nor the short are not Proprieties, that either take away, or give lustre to Language. Should I attempt to follow the other more moderate and united style, I should never attain unto it: and though the short round Periods of Salust best suit with my Humour, yet I find Caesar much greater, and harder to imitate; and though my Inclination would rather prompt me to imitate Seneca's way of Writing, yet do I nevertheless more esteem that of Plutarch. Both in silence and speak∣ing I simply follow my own natural way; from whence peradventure it falls out, that I am bet∣ter at speaking than writing. Motion and Acti∣on animate Words, especially in those who lay

about them briskly, as I do, and grow hot. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Comportment, the Countenance, the Voice, the 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and the Tribunal, will set off some things, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 of themselves, and so consider'd, would appe•••• no better than prating. Messalla complains 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Tacitus of the straightness of some Garmen•• in his time, and of the fashion of the Pew•• where the Orators were to declaim, that wen•• a disadvantage to their Eloquence. My French Tongue is corrupted both in the Pronuntiati∣on and elsewhere, by the Barbarism of my Country. I never saw a Man who was a Na∣tive of any of the Provinces on this side, of the Kingdom, who had not a twang of his place of Birth, and that was not offensive to Ears that were purely French. And yet it is not that I am so perfect in my Perigourdin: for I can no more speak it than high Dutch, nor do I much care. 'Tis a Language, as the rest about me on every side, of Poitou, Xain∣tonge, Angoulesme, Limosin, and Auvergne, are a scurvy, drawling, durty Language. There is indeed above us towards the Mountains a sort of Gascon spoke, that I am mightily taken with, blunt, brief, significant, and in truth a more Manly and Military Language than any other I am acquainted with; as sinewy, insinuating, and pertinent, as French is graceful, neat, and luxuriant. As to the Latin, which was given me for my Mother Tongue, I have by discon∣tinuance lost the use of speaking it, and indeed of writing it too, wherein I formerly had a par∣ticular Reputation; by which you may see how

inconsiderable I am on that side. Beauty is a thing of great recommendation in the correspon∣dency amongst men; 'tis the principal means of ••••quiring the favour and good liking of one a∣nother, and no man is so barbarous and morose, that does not perceive himself in some sort struck with it's Attraction. The Body has a great share 〈◊〉〈◊〉 our Being, has an eminent place there, and therefore it's Structure and Symmetry are of ve∣ry just consideration. They who go about to disunite, and separate our two principal parts from one another are to blame: we must on the contrary reunite and rejoyn them. We must com∣mand the Soul, not to withdraw to entertain it self apart, not to despise and abandon the Body, (neither can she do it, but by some ridicu∣lous counterfeit) but to unite her self close to it, to embrace, cherish, assist, govern, and ad∣vise it, and to bring it back, and set it into the true way when it wanders; in summ, to espouse, and be a Husband to it; forasmuch as their ef∣fects do not appear to be diverse and contrary, but uniform and concurring. Christians have a particular instruction concerning this Connexi∣on, for they know that the Divine Justice embra∣ces this Society, and juncture of Body and Soul, even to the making the Body capable of eternal Rewards; and that God has an Eye to every man's ways, and will that he receive en∣tire, the chastisement or reward of his Deme∣rits. The Sect of the Peripateticks, of all others the most Sociable, does attribute to Wisdom this sole care, equally to provide for the good of

these two associate Parts: and the other 〈◊〉〈◊〉 in not sufficiently applying themselves to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Consideration of this mixture, shew themselve•• to be divided, one for the Body, and the othe•• for the Soul, with equal Error: and to have 〈◊〉〈◊〉 their Subject, which is Man, and their Guide which they generally confess to be Nature. Th•• first distinction that ever was amongst men, and the first Consideration that gave some Prehemi∣nence over others, 'tis likely was the Advantage of Beauty.

* 2.38— agros divisere, atque dedere Pro facie cujusque, & viribus, ingenioque: Nam facies multum valuit, viresque vigebant.

Then Cattel too was shar'd, and steddy bounds * 2.39Mark'd out to every man his proper Grounds; Each had his proper share, each what was fit, According to his Beauty, Strength, or Wit; For Beauty then, and Strength had most Com∣mand, Those had the greatest share in Beasts and Land.

Now I am of something lower than the mid∣dle stature, a Defect that not only borders upon Deformity, but carries withall a great deal of Inconvenience along with it, especially those who are in command; for the Authority which a graceful Presence, and a majestick meen beget, is wanting. C. Marius did not willingly list any Souldiers that were not six foot high. The Cour∣tier has indeed reason to desire a moderate Sta∣ture

in the Person he is to make, rather than any other; and to reject all strangeness that should make him be pointed at. But in choosing, he must have a care in this Mediocrity, to have him rather below, than above the common standard: I would not do so in a Souldier. Lit∣tle men, says Aristotle, are pretty, but not hand∣some: and greatness of Soul is discover'd in a great Body, as Beauty is in a conspicuous stature. The Ethiopians and Indians, says he, in choosing their Kings and Magistrates, had a special re∣gard to the Beauty and Stature of their Persons. They had Reason: for it creates respect in those that follow them, and is a Terror to the Ene∣my, to see a Leader of a brave and goodly Sta∣ture march in the Head of a Battalion.

Ipse inter primos praestanti corpore Turnus* 2.40 Vertitur, arma tenens, & toto vertice supra est.

The graceful Turnus, tallest by the Head, Shaking his Arms, himself the Van up lead.

Our holy and heavenly King, of whom every Circumstance is most carefully, and with the greatest Religion and Reverence to be observ'd, has not himself refus'd bodily Recommendation, Speciosus forma prae filiis hominum. He is fairer than the Children of Men. And Plato,* 2.41 together with Temperance and Fortitude, requires Beau∣ty in the Conservators of his Republick. It would vex you that a man should apply himself to you amongst your Servants to enquire where Mon∣sieur

is, and that you should only have the re∣mainder of the Complement of the Hat that is made to your Barber, or your Secretary: as it hapned to poor Philopaemen, who, arriving the first of all his Company at an Inn where he was expected, the Hostess, who knew him not, and saw him an unsightly Fellow, employ'd him to go help her Maids a little to draw Water, or make a Fire against Philopaemen's coming: the Gentlemen of his Train arriving presently after, and surpriz'd to see him busie in this fine Em∣ployment (for he fail'd not of obeying his Land∣ladies Command) ask'd him what he was doing there, I am, said he, paying the Penalty of my Vgliness. The other Beauties belong to Women, the Beauty of Stature is the only Beauty of Men. Where there is a contemptible Stature, neither the largeness and roundness of the Fore-head, nor the whiteness and sweetness of the Eyes, nor the moderate proportion of the Nose, nor the littleness of the Ears and Mouth, nor the even∣ness and whiteness of the Teeth, nor the thick∣ness of a well-set brown Beard shining like the Husk of a Chestnut, nor curl'd Hair, nor the just proportion of the Head, nor a fresh Comple∣xion, nor a pleasing Air of a Face, nor a Body without any offensive scent, nor the just propor∣tion of Limbs,* 2.42 can make a handsome Man. I am, as to the rest, strong, and well knit, my Face is not puft, but full, and my Complexion betwixt jovial and melancholick, moderately sanguine and hot.

Vnde rigent setis mihi crura, & pectora villis.* 2.43

Whence 'tis my Thighs so rough and bristled are, And that my Breast is so thick set with Hair.

my Health vigorous and spritely, even to a well advanc'd age, and rarely troubled with Sickness. Such I was, for I do not now make any reckoning of my self, now I say, that I am engag'd in the Avenues of Age, being already past forty,

— minutatem vires,* 2.44 & robur adultum Frangit, & in partem pejorem liquitur aetas.

Thence by degrees our Strength melts all away.* 2.45 And treacherous age creeps on, and things decay.

What shall be from this time forward, will be but a half Being, and no more me; I every day escape and steal away from my self:

Singula de nobis anni praedantur euntes.* 2.46

I find I'm growing old,* 2.47 and every year Steals something from me —

Agility and address I never had; and yet am the Son of a very active and spritely Father, and that continued to be so to an extream old age. I have sel∣dom known any man of his Condition, his equal in all bodily Exercises: as I have seldom met with any who have not excell'd me, except in running, at

which I was pretty good. In Musick or Sing∣ing, for which I have a very unfit Voice, or to play on any sort of Instrument, they could never teach me any thing. In Dancing, Tennis, or Wrestling, I could never arrive to more than an ordinary pitch; in Swimming, Fencing, Vaulting, and Leaping, to none at all. My Hands are so clumsie, that I cannot so much as write so as to read it my self, so that I had ra∣ther do what I have scribled over again, than to take upon me the trouble to correct it, and do not read much better than I write. I cannot handsomely fold up a Letter, nor could ever make a Pen, or carve at Table worth a Pin, nor saddle a Horse, nor carry a Hawk and flye her, nor hunt the Dogs, nor lure a Hawk, nor speak to a Horse. In fine, my bodily Qualities are very well suited to those of my Soul, there is nothing spritely, only a full and firm Vigour. I am patient enough of Labour and Pains, but it is only when I go voluntary to the Work, and only so long as my own desire prompts me to it.

* 2.48Molliter austerum studio fallente laborem.

Whilst the Delight makes you ne're mind the Pain.* 2.49

Otherwise, if I am not allur'd with some plea∣sure, or have other guide than my own pure and free Inclination, I am there good for nothing: for I am of an Humour, that Life and Health excepted, there is nothing for which I will bite my Nails, and that I will purchace at the price of the Torment of Mind and constraint;

— tanti mihi non sit opaci Omnes arena Tagi,* 2.50 quodque in Mare volvitur Aurum.

Rich Tagus Sands so dear I would not buy, Nor all the Gold that in the Sea doth lye.

extreamly idle, and extreamly given up to my own Inclination both by Nature and Art. I would as willingly lend a Man my Blood, as my Pains. I have a Soul free and entirely its own, and accustomed to guide it self after its own fashion; having hitherto never had either Ma∣ster or Governour impos'd upon me. I have walk'd as far as I would, and the pace that best pleas'd my self. This is it that has render'd me unfit for the Service of others, and has made me of no use to any one but my self; and for that there was no need of forcing my heavy and la∣zy Disposition; for being born to such a For∣tune, as I had Reason to be contented with, (a Reason nevertheless that a thousand others of my Acquaintance would have rather made use of for a planck upon which to pass over to a higher Fortune, to tumult and disquiet) I sought for no more, and also got no more:

Non agimur tumidi ventis Aquilone secundo,* 2.51 Non tamen adversis aetatem ducimus austris, Viribus, ingenio, specie, virtute, loco, re, Extremi priorum, extremis usque priores.

* 2.52I neither am opprest With storms, nor flat at all with calms; my Sails Are fill'd with equal, and indifferent gales; For Health, Wit, Vertue, Honour, Wealth, I'm plac't Short of the foremost, but before the last.

I had only need of what was sufficient to con∣tent me: which nevertheless is a Government of Soul, to take it right, equally difficult in all sorts of Conditions, and that by Custom, we see more easily found in want than abundance: forasmuch, peradventure, as according to the course of others Passions, the desire of Riches is more sharp'ned by the use we make of them, than by the need we have of them: and the virtue of Moderation more rare than that of Patience. And never had any thing to desire, but happily to enjoy the Estate that God by his Bounty had put into my Hands: I have never known any thing of Trou∣ble, and have had little to do in any thing but the management of my own Affairs: or, if I have, it has been upon Condition to do them at my own leisure, and after my own Method, com∣mitted to my trust by such as had a confidence in me, that did not importune me, and that knew my Humor. For good Horse-men will make shift to get service out of a rusty and broken winded Jade. Even my Infancy was train'd up after a gentle and free manner, and even then exempt from any rigorous Subjection: all which have helpt me to a Complexion deli∣cate

and incapable of Sollicitude, even to that degree, that I love to have my Losses, and the Disorders wherein I am concern'd, conceal'd from me; so that in the account of my Expen∣ces, I put down what my Negligence costs me in feeding and maintaining my self.

— hae nempe supersunt,* 2.53 Quae dominum fallunt, quae prosint furibus.

The House is much unfurnish'd where there are* 2.54 Not many things superfluous, and to spare; Goods which the Owner knows not of, but may Be unconcern'd when they are stole away.

I do not love to know what I have, that I may be less sensible of my Loss. I intreat those that serve me, where Affection and Integrity are wanting, to deceive me with something that may look tollerably handsome. For want of Con∣stancy enough to support the shock of the ad∣verse Accidents, to which we are subject, and of patience seriously to apply my self to the ma∣nagement of my Affairs; I nourish as much as I can this in my self, wholly leaving all to Fortune; to take all things at the worst, and to resolve to bear that worst with Temper and Patience. That is the only thing I aim at, and to which I apply my whole Meditation. In a Danger, I do not so much consider how I shall escape it, as of how little importance it is whether I escape it or no: should I be left dead upon the place, what matter? Not being able to govern Events, I govern my self,

and apply my self to them, if they will not ap∣ply themselves to me. I have no great art to evade, escape from, or to force Fortune, and by Prudence to guide and incline things to my own Biass. I have the least Patience of all to undergo the troublesome and painfull Care there∣in requir'd; and the most uneasie condition for me is to be suspended in urgent Occasions, and to be agitated betwixt Hope and Fear. Deli∣beration, even in things of lightest moment, is very troublesome to me; and I find my Mind more put to it to undergo the various tumbling and tossing of Doubt and Consultation, than to set up it's rest, and to acquiesce in what ever shall happen after the Die is thrown. Few Passions break my sleep, but of deliberations, the least will do it. As in Ways, I willingly avoid those that are sloping and slippery, and put my self into the beaten track how durty or deep soever, where I can fall no lower, and there seek my safety: so I love Misfortunes that are purely so, that do not torment and teaze me with the in∣certainty of their growing better; but that at the first push plunge me directly into the worst can be expected.

* 2.55dubia plus torquent mala.

Doubtful ills do plague us worst.

In Events, I carry my self like a Man, in the Conduct, like a Child. The fear of the Fall more astonishes me than the Fall it self. It will not

quit cost. The covetous Man has a worse ac∣count of his Passion than the poor, and the jea∣lous Man than the Cuckold; and a man oft∣times loses more by defending his Vine-yard than if he gave it up. The lowest walk is the safest; 'tis the Seat of Constancy: you have there need of no one but your self, 'tis there founded, and wholly stands upon it's own Ba∣sis. Has not this Example of a Gentleman very well known some air of Philosophy in it? He married, being well advanc'd in years, having spent his Youth in Good-fellowship, a great Tal∣ker and a great Jeerer; calling to mind how much the subject of Cuckoldry had given him occasion to talk and scoff at others, to pre∣vent them from paying him in his own coin, he married a Wife from a Place where any may have flesh for his money: Good morrow Whore, Good morrow Cuckold; and there was not any thing wherewith he more commonly and open∣ly entertain'd those that came to see him than with this design of his, by which he stop'd the private muttering of Mockers, and defended him∣self from this Reproach. As to Ambition, which is Neighbour, or rather Daughter to Presump∣tion, Fortune, to advance me, must have come and taken me by the hand; for to trouble my self for an uncertain Hope, and to have submit∣ted my self to all the Difficulties that accompa∣ny those who endeavour to bring themselves in∣to Credit in the beginning of their progress, I could never have done it.

* 2.56— spem pretio non emo.

I will not purchase Hope with Money.

I apply my self to what I see, and to what I have in my Hand, and go not very far from the Shoar:

* 2.57Alter remus aquas, alter tibi radat arenas.

Into the Sea I plung one Oar, And with the other rake the Shoar.

and besides, a Man rarely arrives to these Ad∣vancements, but in first hazarding what he has of his own: and I am of Opinion, that if a Man have sufficient to maintain him in the Conditi∣on wherein he was born and brought up, 'tis a great folly to hazard that upon the incertainty of augmenting it. He to whom Fortune has de∣ny'd whereon to set his Foot, and to settle a quiet and compos'd way of living, is to be ex∣cus'd if he does venture what he has, because, happen what will, Necessity puts him upon shift∣ing for himself.

* 2.58Capienda rebus in malis praeceps via est.

A desperate case must have a desperate course.

And I rather excuse a younger Brother to ex∣pose what his Friends have left him to the Cour∣tesie of fortune, than him with whom the Honour of his Family is intrusted, that cannot be neces∣sitous, but by his own Fault. I have found a much shorter and more easie way, by the Advice of the good Friends I had in my younger days,

to free my self from any such Ambition, and to sit still.

Cui sit conditio dulcis, sine pulvere palmae.* 2.59

Whose Sword hath won him Honour in true Fights,* 2.60 Dusty Olympick Lawrels that Man slights.

Judging rightly enough of my own Forces, that they were not capable of any great Matters; and calling to mind the saying of the late Chancel∣lor Oliver, that the French were like Monkies, that swarm up a Tree from Branch to Branch, and never stop till they come to the highest; and there show their ugly bald Breech.

Turpe est quod nequeas capiti committere pondus,* 2.61 Et pressum inflexo mox dare terga genu.

It is a shame to load the Shoulders so, That they the Burthen cannot undergo; And the Knees bending with the weight, to quit The pond'rous load, and turn the Back to it.

I should find the best Qualities I have useless in this Age. The Facility of my Manners would have been call'd Weakness and Negligence, my Faith and Conscience, if such I have, Scrupulosity and Superstition; my Liberty and Freedom would have been reputed troublesome, inconsiderate and rash. Ill luck is good for something.* 2.62 It is good to be born in a very deprav'd Age; for so in comparison of others, you shall be reputed ver∣tuous good cheap. He that in our dayes is but a Parricide, and a sacrilegious Person, is an ho∣nest Man, and a Man of Honour.

* 2.63Nunc si depositum non inficiatur amicus, Si reddat veterem cum tota aerugine follem, Prodigiosa fides, & Thuscis digna libellis, Quaeque coronata lustrari debeat agna.

Now if a Friend does not deny his Trust, But does th'old Purse restore with all it's rust; 'Tis a prodigious Faith, that ought in Gold Amongst the Thuscan Annals be enroll'd, And a crown'd Lamb should sacrificed be To such an exemplary Integrity.

And never was time or place wherein Princes might propose to themselves more certain Re∣wards for their Virtue and Justice. The first that shall make it his business to get himself into fa∣vour and esteem by those ways, I am much de∣ceiv'd if he do not, and by the best Title out∣strip his Concurrents. Force and Violence can do something, but not always all: We see Mer∣chants, Country Justices, and Artizans, go cheek by joul with the best Gentry in Valour and Mi∣litary Knowledge. They perform honourable Actions both in publick Engagements and private Quarrels, they fight Duels, and defend Towns in our present Wars. A Prince stifles his Renown in this crowd. Let him shine bright in Humanity, Truth, Loyalty, Temperance, and especially in Justice; marks rare, unknown, and exil'd; 'tis by no other means but by the sole good-will of the People that he can do his bu∣siness, and no other Qualities can attract their

good-will like those, as being of greatest Utili∣ty to them. Nil est tam populare quàm bonitas.* 2.64 Nothing is so popular as goodness. By this pro∣portion I had been great and rare, as I find my self now a Pigmee, and popular by the propor∣tion of some past Ages; wherein, if other bet∣ter Qualities did not concur, it was ordinary and common to see a Man moderate in his Re∣venges, gentle in resenting Injuries, in absence religious of his Word, neither double nor too supple, nor accomodating his Faith to the will of others, or the turns of Times: I would ra∣ther see all Affairs go to wrack and ruine than falsifie my Faith to secure them. For as to this Virtue of Dissimulation, which is now in so great request, I mortally hate it; and of all Vi∣ces, find none that does evidence so much base∣ness and meanness of Spirit. 'Tis a cowardly and servile Humour to hide and disguise a man's self under a Vizor, and not to dare to shew himself what he is. By that our followers are train'd up to Treachery. Being brought up to speak what is not true, they make no Consci∣ence of a Lye. A generous Heart ought not to belye its own Thoughts, but will make it self seen within, all there is good, or at least manly: Aristotle reputes it the Office of Magnanimity, openly and profess'dly to love and hate, to judge and speak with all freedom; and not to value the approbation or dislike of others in compa∣rison of Truth: Apollonius said, it was for Slaves to lye, and for Free-men to speak truth. 'Tis the chief and fundamental part of Vertue, we

must love it for it self. He that speaks truth, because he is oblig'd so to do, and because he serves; and that is not afraid to lye when it signifies nothing to any body, is not sufficient∣ly true.* 2.65 My Soul naturally abominates Lying, and hates the thought of it. I have an inward bashfulness, and a sharp remorse, if sometimes a Lye escape me, as sometimes it does, being sur∣priz'd by Occasions that allow me no Premedi∣tation. A Man must not always tell all, for that were folly: but what a man says should be what he thinks, otherwise 'tis knavery. I do not know what advantage men pretend to by eternally counterfeiting and dissembling, if not, never to be believ'd when they speak the truth. This may once or twice pass upon men; but to pro∣fess concealing their Thoughts, and to brag, as some of our Princes have done, that they would burn their Shirts if they knew their true Intentions; which was a saying of the Ancient Metellus of Macedon; and, that who knows not how to dissem∣ble, knows not how to Rule: is to give warning to all who have any thing to do with them, that all they say is nothing but Lying and De∣ceit.* 2.66 Quo quis versutior, & callidior est, hoc in∣visior & suspectior, detracta opinione probitatis. By how much any one is more subtle and cunning, by so much is he hated and suspected, the Opinion of his Integrity being lost and gone. It were a great simplicity in any one to lay any stress either on the Countenance or word of a man, that has past on a Resolution to be always another thing with∣out than he is within, as Tiberius did; and I cannot

conceive what Interest such can have in the Con∣versation with men, seeing they produce nothing that is current and true. Whoever is disloyal to Truth, is the same to Falshood also. Those of our time, who have considered in the establish∣ment of the duty of a Prince, the good of his Af∣fairs only, and have preferr'd that to the care of his Faith and Conscience; might say something to a Prince whose Affairs Fortune had put into such a posture, that he might for ever Establish them by only once breaking his Word: but it will not go so, they often buy in the same Market, they make more than once Peace, and enter into more than one Treaty in their lives. Gain tempts them to the first breach of Faith, and almost al∣ways presents it self, as in all other ill Acts, Sa∣crileges, Murthers, Rebellions, Treasons, as al∣ways undertaken for some kind of Advantage. But this first Gain has infinite mischievous Con∣sequences; throws this Prince out of all Corre∣spondence and Negotiation, by this Example of Infidelity. Soliman, of the Ottoman Race, a Race not very sollicitous of keeping their Words or Articles, when in my Infancy he made his Army land at Otranto, being inform'd that Mercurino de Gratinare, and the Inhabitants of Castro were de∣tain'd Prisoners, after having surrendred the Place, contrary to the Articles of their Capitulation, sent order to have them set at Liberty, saying, That having other great Enterprizes in hand in those Parts, the disloyalty, though it carried a shew of present Utility, would for the future bring on him a disrepute and diffidence of infinite prejudice.

Now, for my part, I had rather be troublesome and indiscreet, than a Flatterer and a Dissembler. I confess that there may be some mixture of Pride and Obstinacy in keeping my self so up∣right and open as I do without any Considera∣tion of others; and methinks I am a little too free, where I ought least to be so, and that I grow hot by the opposition of Respect; and it may be also, that I suffer my self to follow the Propension of my own Nature for want of Art; using the same liberty of Speech and Counte∣nance towards great Persons, that I bring with me from my own House: I am sensible how much it declines towards Incivility and Indiscre∣tion: but besides that, I am so bred, I have not a Wit supple enough to evade a sudden Questi∣on, and to escape by some Evasion, nor to feign a Truth, nor Memory enough to retain it so feign'd; nor truly assurance enough to maintain it, and play the brave out of Weakness. And therefore it is that I abandon my self to Candor, always to speak as I think, both by Complexi∣on and Design, leaving the event to Fortune. Aristippus was wont to say, that the principal be∣nefit he had extracted from Philosophy was, that he spoke freely and openly to all.* 2.67 Memory is a faculty of wonderful use, and without which the Judgment can very hardly perform its Office: for my part I have none at all. What any one will propose to me, he must do it by parcels, for to answer a speech consisting of several heads, I am not able. I could not receive a Commission by word of mouth, without a Note-book: and when I have a

Speech of Consequence to make, if it be long, I am reduc'd to the miserable Necessity of getting it Word for Word what I am to say by Heart; I should otherwise have neither fashion nor assurance, being in fear that my Memory would play me a slippery trick. But this way is no less difficult to me than the other. I must have three hours to learn three Verses. And besides, in a Work of a man's own, the Liberty and Authority of altering the Or∣der, of changing a Word, incessantly varying the matter, makes it harder to stick in the Me∣mory of the Author. The more I mistrust it, the worse it is, it serves me best by chance, I must negligently sollicit it, for if I press it, 'tis asto∣nish'd, and after it once begins to stagger, the more I sound it, the more it is perplex'd; it serves me at it's own hour, not at mine. And the same defect I find in my Memory, I find al∣so in several other Parts. I fly command, obli∣gation, and constraint. That which I can other∣wise naturally and easily do; if I impose it up∣on my self by an express and strict Injunction, I cannot do it. Even the members of my Body, over which a man has a more particular jurisdi∣ction, sometimes refuse to obey me, if I enjoin them a necessary service at a certain hour. This tyrannical and compulsive Appointment baffles them, they shrink up either through fear or spite, and fall into a Trance. Being once in a Place where it is look'd upon as the greatest discour∣tesie imaginable not to pledge those who drink to you, though I had there all liberty allowed

me, I try'd to play the good Fellow, out of re∣spect to the Ladies that were there, according to the Custom of the Country; But there was sport enough, for this Threatning and Preparation, that I was to force my self contrary to my Cu∣stom and Inclination, did so stop my Throat, that I could not swallow one drop, and was de∣priv'd of drinking so much as to my Meat. I found my self gorg'd, and my Thirst quench'd by so much Drink as my Imagination had swal∣low'd. This Effect is most manifest in such as have the most vehement and powerful Imagina∣tion: but it is natural notwithstanding, and there is no one that does not in some measure find it. They offer'd an excellent Archer, condemn'd to dye, to save his Life, if he would shew some no∣table proof of his Art; but he refused to try, fearing lest the too great Contention of his Will should make him shoot wide, and that instead of saving his Life, he should also lose the Reputa∣tion he had got of being a good Marks-man. A Man that thinks of something else, will not fail to take over and over again the same number and measure of steps, even to an inch, in the place where he walks: but if he makes it his Business to measure and count them, he will find that what he did by Nature and Accident, he cannot so exactly do by Design. My Library, which is of the best sort of Country Libraries, is scituated in a corner of my House, if any thing comes into my Head that I have a Mind to look on or to write; lest I should forget it in but going cross the Court, I am fain to commit

it to the Memory of some other. If I venture in speaking to digress never so little from my Sub∣ject, I am infallibly lost, which is the reason that I keep my self in Discourse strictly close. I am forc'd to call the Men that serve me either by the Names of their Offices, or their Country; for Names are very hard for me to remember. I can tell indeed that there are three Syllables, that it has a harsh sound, and that it begins or ends with such a Letter, but that's all: and if I should live long,* 2.68 I do not think but I should forget my own Name, as some others have done. Messala Corvinus, was two years without any trace of Memory, which is also said of Geor∣gius Trapezuntius. For my own interest, I of∣ten meditate what a kind of Life theirs was, and if, without this Faculty, I should have e∣nough left to support me with any manner of ease, and prying narrowly into it, I fear that this Privation, if absolute, destroys all the other functions of the Soul.

Plenus rimarum sum, hac atque illac perfluo.* 2.69

I'me full of chinks, and lead out every way.

It has befall'n me more than once to forget the Word I had three hours before given or re∣ceiv'd, and to forget where I had hid my Purse, whatever Cicero is pleas'd to say: I help my self to lose what I have a particular care to lock safe up. Memoria certè non modo Philosophiam,* 2.70 sed omnis vitae usum, omnesque artes, unà maximè

continet. The Memory is the receptacle and sheath of all Science; and therefore mine being so trea∣cherous, if I know little, I cannot much com∣plain; I know in general the Names of the Arts, and of what they treat, but nothing more. I turn over Books, I do not study them; what I retain I do not know to be anothers, and is on∣ly what my Judgment has made it's advantage of; the Discourses and Imaginations in which it has been instructed.* 2.71 The Author, Place, Words, and other Circumstances, I immediately forget, and am so excellent at forgetting, that I no less forget my own Writings and Compositions than the rest. I am very often quoted to my self, and am not aware of it; and whoever should en∣quire of me where I had the Verses and Exam∣ples that I have here huddled together, would puzzle me to tell him, and yet I have not bor∣row'd them but from famous and known Au∣thors, not satisfying my self that they were rich; if I moreover had them not from rich and ho∣nourable Hands, where there is a concurrence of Authority as well as Reason. It is no great wonder if my Book run the same fortune that other Books do, and if my Memory lose what I have writ as well as what I have read, and what I give, as well as what I receive. Beside the de∣fect of Memory, I have others which very much contribute to my ignorance;* 2.72 I have a slow and heavy Wit, the least cloud stops it's progress, so that, for Example, I never propos'd to it any never so easie a Riddle that it could find out. There is not the least idle subtilty, that will not

gravel me. In Games, where Wit is requir'd, as Chess, Draughts, and the like, I understand no more but the motions of the men, without being capable of any thing of design. I have a slow and perplex'd Apprehension, but what it once apprehends, it apprehends well, for the time it retains it. My Sight is perfect, entire,* 2.73 and dis∣covers at a very great Distance, but is soon weary, which makes me that I cannot read long, but am forc'd to have one to read to me. The younger Pliny can inform such as have not expe∣rimented it themselves, what, and how impor∣tant an Impediment this is to those who addict themselves to study. There is no so wretched and illiterate a Soul, wherein some particular Faculty is not seen to shine; no Soul so buried in sloth and ignorance but it will sally at one end or another. And how it comes to pass that a Man blind and asleep to every thing else, shall be found spritely, clear, and excellent in some one particular Effect, we are to enquire of our Masters: but the beautiful Souls are they that are Universal, Open, and Ready for all things, if not instructed, at least capable of being so. Which I say to accuse my own; for whether it be through Infirmity or Negligence, (and to neglect that which lies at our feet, which we have in our hands, and what nearest concerns the use of Life, is far from my Doctrine) there is not a Soul in the World so aukward as mine, and so ignorant of several vulgar things, and such as a man cannot without shame be ignorant of. I must give some Examples: I was born and

bred up in the Country, and amongst Husband∣men; I have had Business and Husbandry in my own Hands ever since my Predecessors, who were Lords of the Estate I now enjoy, left me to succeed them: and yet I can neither cast account, nor reckon my Counters: most of our current Money I do not know, nor the difference be∣twixt one Grain and another, either growing or in the Barn, if it be not too apparent; and scarcely can distinguish the Cabidge and Lettuce in my Garden. I do not so much as understand the Names of the chief Instruments of Husban∣dry, nor the most ordinary Elements of Agri∣culture, which the very Children know; much less the mechanick Arts, Traffick, Merchandize, the variety and Nature of Fruits, Wines and Vines: nor how to make a Hawk fly, nor to physick a Horse, or a Dog. And, since I must publish my whole shame, 'tis not above a Month ago, that I was trapt in my ignorance of the use of leaven to make Bread, or to what end it was to keep Wine in the Vat. They conjectur'd of old at Athens, an aptitude to the Mathematicks in him they saw ingeniously bavin up a Burthen of Brush-wood. In earnest, they would draw a quite contrary Conclusion from me, for give me the whole Provision and Necessaries of a Kitchin, I should starve. By these features of my Con∣fession Men may imagin others to my Prejudice: but whatever I deliver my self to be, provided it be such as I really am, I have my end; neither will I make any excuse for committing to Paper such mean and frivolous things as these: the

meanness of the Subject compells me to it. They may if they please accuse my Project, but not my Progress. So it is, that without any bodies need∣ing to tell me, I sufficiently see of how little weight and value all this is, and the Folly of my Design. 'Tis enough that my Judgment does not contradict it self, of which these are the Essays.

Nasutus sis usque licet, sis denique nasus,* 2.74 Quantum noluerit ferre rogatus Atlas; Et possis ipsum tu deridere Latinum, Non potes in nugas dicere plura meas, Ipse ego quàm dixi: quid dentem dente juvabit Reddere? carne opus est, si satur esse velis. Ne perdas operam, qui se mirantur, in illos Virus habe, nos haec novimus esse nihil.

Be nos'd, be all Nose, till thy Nose appear So great, that Atlas it refuse to bear; Though ev'n against Latinus thou inveigh, Against my Trifles thou no more can'st say Than I have said my self: then to what end Should we to render tooth for tooth contend, You must have flesh if you'l be full my Friend. Lose not thy Labour then; on those that do Admire themselves thy utmost venom throw, That these things nothing are full well we know.

I am not oblig'd to utter no Absurdities, provided I am not deceiv'd in them, and know them to be such: and to trip knowingly, is so ordinary with me, that I seldom do it otherwise, and rarely trip by chance. 'Tis no great matter to add ridiculous

Actions to the temerity of my Humour, since I cannot ordinarily help supplying it with those that are vicious. I was present one day at Bar∣ledue, when King Francis the Second, for a Me∣morial of Rene King of Sicily,* 2.75 was presented with a Picture he had drawn of himself. Why is it not in like manner lawful for every one to draw himself with a Pen as he did with a Cray∣on? I will not therefore omit this blemish, though very unfit to be publish'd, which is Irre∣solution; a very great Defect, and very incom∣modious in the Negotiations of the Affairs of the World; in doubtful Enterprizes, I know not which to choose.

Ne si ne no, nel cormi suona intero.

I can maintain an Opinion, but I cannot choose one, by reason that in Humane things, to what Sect soever a man inclines, many Ap∣parences present themselves that confirm us in it; and the Philosopher Chrysippus said, that he would of Zeno and Cleanthes his Masters learn their Doctrines only: for as to Proofs and Rea∣sons, he should find enough of his own: which way soever I turn, I still furnish my self with Causes, and likelihood enough to fix me there, which makes me detain doubt, and the liberty of choosing, till occasion presses; and then, to confess the Truth, I, for the most part, throw the Feather into the Wind, as the saying is, and com∣mit my self to the mercy of Fortune; a very light Inclination and Circumstance carries me along with it.

Dum in dubio est animus, Paulo momento huc atque illuc impellitur.* 2.76

My mind being in doubt, in a short space, With nimble turns, this way and that way sways.

The incertainty of my Judgement is so equal∣ly balanc'd in most Occurrences, that I could willingly refer it to be decided by the chance of a Dye. And observe, with great considerati∣on of our Humane Infirmity, the Examples that the Divine History it self has left us of this cu∣stom of referring to Fortune and Chance the determination of Elections in doubtful things: Sors cecidit super Matthiam,* 2.77 The Lot fell upon Matthias. Humane Reason is a two edg'd and a dangerous Sword: observe in the hand of So∣crates, her most intimate and familiar Friend, how many several points it has. I am also good for nothing but to follow and suffer my self to be easily carried away with the Crowd; I have not Confidence enough in my own Strength to take upon me to Command and Lead. I am ve∣ry glad to find the way beaten before me by o∣thers. If I must run the hazard of an uncertain Choice, I am rather willing to have it under such a one as is more confident in his Opinions than I am in mine, whose Ground and Founda∣tion I find to be very slippery and unsure, and yet I do not easily change, by reason that I discern the same weakness in contrary Opinions.* 2.78 Ipsa

consuetudo assentiendi periculosa esse videtur, & lu∣brica. The very custom of assenting seems to be dangerous and slippery. Especially in politick Af∣fairs, there is a large Field open for Contestation.

* 2.79Justa pari premitur velati cum pondere libra, Prona nec hac plus parte sedet, nec surgit ab illa.

Like a just Ballance press'd with equal weight Nor dips, nor rises, but the Beam is straight

Machiavel's Writings, for Example, were solid enough for the Subject, yet were they easie enough to be controverted; and they who have taken up the Cudgels against him, have left as great a Facility of controverting theirs. There was never wanting in that kind of Argument, replies upon replies, and as infinite a contexture of Debates, as our wrangling Lawyers have ex∣tended in Favour of long Suits.

* 2.80Caedimur, & totidem plagis consumimus hostem.

This is a War, Wherein by turns we beat, and beaten are.

the Reasons having little other foundation than Experience, and the variety of humane Events, presenting us with infinite Examples of all sorts of Forms. An understanding Person of our Times says. That whoever would in Contradiction to our Almanacks write cold, where they say

hot, and wet where they say dry, and alwayes put the contrary to what they foretell; if he were to lay a Wager, he would not care which side he took, excepting where no incertainty could fall out; as to promise excessive heats at Christmas, or extremity of cold at Midsummer, which cannot possibly be. I have the same Opi∣nion of these politick Controversies; be on which side you will, you have as fair a Game to play as your Adversary, provided you do not proceed so far as to justle Principles that are too manifest to be disputed. And yet, in my Conceit, in publick Affairs, there is no Govern∣ment so ill, provided it be antient, and has been constant, that is not better than change and alteration. Our manners are infinitely corrupt∣ed, and wonderfully incline to the worse: of our Laws and Customs there are many that are barbarous and monstrous: nevertheless, by reason of the difficulty of Reformation, and the Danger of stirring things, if I could put some∣thing under to stop the Wheel, and keep it where it is, I would do it with all my Heart.

Numquam adeo faedis adeoque pudendis* 2.81 Vtimur exemplis, ut non pejora supersint.

Th' Examples we produce, are not so plain And smutty, but behind far worse remain.

The worst thing I find in our State, is the instabi∣lity of it, and that our Laws, no more than our

Clothes cannot settle in any certain Form. It is very easie to accuse a Government of Imperfe∣ction, for all mortal things are full of it: it is very easie to beget in a People a contempt of Ancient Observances, never any man undertook it but he did it; but to establish a better Re∣giment in the stead of that a man has overthrown, many who have attempted that have been foun∣der'd in the attempt. I very little consult my Prudence in my Conduct; I am willing to let it be guided by the publick Rule. Happy Peo∣ple, who do what they are commanded better than they who command, without tormenting themselves with the causes, who suffer themselves gently to roul after the Coelestial Revolution. Obedience is never pure nor calm in him who argues and disputes. In fine, to return to my self; the only thing by which I esteem my self to be something, is, that wherein never any man thought himself to be defective; my recommen∣dation is vulgar and common, for who ever thought he wanted Sense? It would be a Pro∣position that would imply a Contradiction in it self, 'tis a Disease that never is where it is dis∣cern'd, 'tis tenacious and strong, but that the first ray of the Patients Sight does nevertheless pierce through and disperse as the Beams of the Sun do thick and obscure Mists. To accuse one's self would be to excuse in this case, and to con∣demn to absolve. There never was Porter, or the silliest Girl, that did not think they had sense enough to do their business. We easily enough confess an advantage of Courage, Strength, Ex∣perience,

Activity and Beauty in others; but an Advantage in Judgment we yield to none, and the Reasons that simply proceed from the natu∣ral arguing of others, we think, if we had but turn'd our Thoughts that way, we should our selves have found out as well as they. Know∣ledge, Stile, and such Parts as we see in others works, we are soon aware of, if they excell our own: but for the simple Products of the Under∣standing, every one thinks he could have found out the like, and is hardly sensible of the weight and difficulty, if not, (and then with much ado) in an extream and incomparable distance. And whoever should be able clearly to discern the height of anothers Judgment, would be also able to raise his own to the same pitch. So that it is a sort of Exercise, from which a Man is to ex∣pect very little Praise, a kind of Composition of small Repute. And besides, for whom do you write? The Learned, to whom the Authority appertains of judging Books, know no other value but that of Learning, and allow of no other proceeding of Wit, but that of Erudition and Art: if you have mistaken one of the Sci∣pios for another, what is all the rest you have to say worth? Whoever is ignorant of Aristotle, according to their Rule, is in some sort igno∣rant of himself. Heavy, ill bred, and vulgar Souls, cannot discern the Grace of a delicate Stile. Now these two sorts of Men take up the World. The third sort, into whose hands you fall, of Souls that are regular and strong of themselves, is so rare, that it justly has neither

Name nor Place amongst us; and 'tis so much time lost to aspire unto it, or to endeavour to please it. 'Tis commonly said, that the justest divident Nature has given of her Favours, is that of Sense; for there is no one that is not con∣tented with his share: is it not Reason? for whoever should discern beyond that, would see beyond his sight. I think my Opinions are good and sound, but who does not think the same of his? one of the best Proofs I have that mine are so, is the small esteem I have of my self; for had they not been very well assur'd, they would easily have suffer'd themselves to have been deceiv'd by the peculiar Affection I have to my self, as one that place it almost wholly in my self, and do not let much run by. All that others distribute amongst an infinite num∣ber of Friends and Acquaintance, to their Glory and Grandeur, I dedicate to the repose of my own mind and to my self. That which escapes thence is not properly by my direction.

* 2.82Mihi nempe valere, & vivere doctus.

To love my self I very well can tell, So as to live content, and to be well.

Now I find my Opinions very bold and con∣stant, in condemning my own Imperfection; and to say the truth, 'tis a Subject upon which I exercise my Judgment, as much as upon any other. The World looks always opposite, I turn my sight inwards, there fix and employ it:

Every one looks before him, I look into my self, I have no other business but my self, I am eternally meditating upon my self, controul and taste my self; other mens Thoughts are ever wand'ring abroad, if they set themselves to thinking, they are still going forward,

Nemo in sese tentat descendere.* 2.83

No man attempts to dive into himself.

for my part, I circulate in my self: and this free Humour of not over easily subjecting my Belief, I owe principally to my self; for the strongest and most general Imaginations I have, are those, that as a man may say, were born with me; they are natural and entirely my own. I pro∣duc'd them crude and simple, with a strong and bold Production, but a little troubled and imperfect; I have since establish'd and fortified them with the Authority of others, and the sound Examples of the Ancients, whom I have found of the same Judgment: they have given me faster hold, and a more manifest Fruition and Possession of that I had before embrac'd; the Reputation that every one pretends to, of vivacity and promptness of Wit, I speak in Regularity; the Glory they pretend to from a brave and honourable Action, or some par∣ticular Excellency, I claim from order, cor∣respondence, and tranquillity of Opinions and Manners. Omnino si quidquam est deco∣rum,* 2.84 nihil est profecto magis quàm aequabilitas

universae Vitae, tum singularum actionum: quam conservare non possis, si aliorum naturam imitans, omittas tuam. If any thing be entirely decent, no∣thing certainly can be more, than an equability in the whole Life, and in every particular Action of it: which thou can'st not possibly observe and keep, if imitating other mens Natures, thou layest aside thy own. Here then you see to what degree I find my self guilty of this first part, that I said was in the Vice of Presumption. As to the se∣cond, which consists in not having a sufficient esteem for others; I know not whether or no I can so well excuse my self; but whatever comes on't, I am resolv'd to speak the Truth. And whether peradventure it be, that the continual frequentation I have had with the Humors of the Antients, and the Idea of those great Souls of past Ages, put me out of taste both with others and my self; or that, in truth, the Age we live in does produce but very indifferent things; yet so it is, that I see nothing worthy of any great admiration. Neither indeed have I so great an intimacy with many Men, as is re∣quisite to make a right Judgment of them: and those with whom my Condition makes me the most frequent, are, for the most part, Men that have little care of the culture of the Soul; but that look upon Honour as the sum of all bles∣sings, and Valour as the height of all Perfection. What I see that is handsome in others, I very readily commend, and highly esteem: nay, I of∣ten say more in their Commendation, than I think they really deserve, and give my self so far

leave to lye; for I cannot invent a false Subject. My Testimony is never wanting to my Friends in what I conceive deserves Praise: and where a foot is due, I am willing to give them a foot and a half; but to attribute to them Qualities that they have not, I cannot do it, nor openly defend their Imperfections. Nay, I frankly and ingeniously give my very Enemies their due Te∣stimony of Honour. My Affection alters, my Judgment does not; and I never confound my Animosity with other Circumstances that are foreign to it: and am so jealous of the libertyof my Judgment, that I can very hardly part with it for any Passion whatever. I do my self a greater injury in lying, than I do him of whom I tell a Lye. This commendable and generous Custom is observ'd of the Persian Nation,* 2.85 that they spoke of their mortal Enemies, and with whom they were at deadly Wars, as honoura∣bly and justly as their Virtues did deserve. I know Men enough, that have several fine Parts; one Wit, another Courage, another Address, ano∣ther Conscience, another Language, one, one Sci∣ence, another, another; but a generally great Man, and that has all these brave Parts together, or any one of them to such a degree of Excellence that we should admire him, or compare him with those we honour of times past, my Fortune ne∣ver brought me acquainted with; and the great∣est I ever knew, I mean for the natural parts of the Soul, was Stephen Boetius;* 2.86 his was a full Soul indeed, and that had every way a beauti∣ful aspect: a Soul of the old stamp, and that

had produc'd great Effects, had Fortune been so pleas'd: having added much to those great natural Parts by learning and study. But how it comes to pass I know not, and yet it is cer∣tainly so, there is as much vanity and weakness of Judgment in those who profess the greatest Abilities, who take upon them learned Callings, and bookish Employments, as in any other sort of Men whatever: either because more is requir'd and expected from them, and that common de∣fects are inexcusable in them; or because the Opinion they have of their own Learning makes them more bold to expose and lay themselves too open, by which they lose and betray them∣selves. As an Artificer more betrays his want of Skill in a rich Matter he has in hand, if he dis∣grace the Work by ill handling, and contrary to the Rules requir'd, than in a Matter of less value; and Men are more displeas'd at a Dispro∣portion in a Statue of Gold, than in one of Ala∣baster; so do these, when they exhibit things that in themselves and in their place would be good: for they make use of them without dis∣cretion, honouring their Memories at the expence of their Understandings, and making themselves ridiculous to honour Cicero, Galen, Vlpian and St. Hierom. I willingly fall again into the Dis∣course of the Vanity of our Education; the end of which is not to render us good and wise, but learned; and she has obtain'd it. She has not taught us to follow and embrace Virtue and Prudence, but she has imprinted in us their De∣rivation and Etymologie. We know how to de∣cline

Virtue, we know not how to love it. If we do not know what Prudence is really, and in effect, and by Experience, we have it how∣ever by heart. We are not content to know the Extraction, Kindred and Alliances of our Neighbours, we will moreover have them our Friends, and will establish a Correspondency and Intelligence with them: but this Education of ours has taught us Definitions, Divisions, and Partitions of Vertue, as so many Surnames and Branches of a Genealogie, without any further care of establishing any Familiarity or Intimacy betwixt her and us. She has cull'd out for our initiary Instruction, not such Books as contain the soundest and truest Opinions, but those that speak the best Greek and Latin; and by these queint Words has instill'd into our Fancy the vainest Humours of Antiquity. A good Educa∣tion alters the Judgment and Manners; as it hapned to Polemon, a young lewd and debauch'd Greek, who going by chance to hear one of Xenocrates his Lectures, did not only observe the Eloquence and Learning of the Reader, and not only brought away the knowledge of some fine matter; but a more manifest and a more solid Profit, which was the sudden Change and Reformation of his former Life. Who ever found such an Effect of our Discipline?

— faciásne quod olim* 2.87 Mutatus Polemon, ponas insignia morbi Fasciolas, cubital, focalia, potus ut ille Dicitur ex collo furtim carpsisse coronas, Postquam est impransi correptus voce Magistri.

* 2.88Pray tell me, can you do like Polemon? Who, being drunk, ran with a Garland on Into the School of grave Xenocrates, With Ribons, Cushions, Handkerchiefs; all these He privately took off, and threw away, When he heard what that temp'rate Man did say.

That seems to me to be the least contemptible Condition of Men, which by its plainness and simplicity is seated in the lowest degree, and invites us to a more regular Conversation. I find the manner and clownish Language of Coun∣try People commonly better suited to the Rule and Prescription of true Philosophy, than those of our Philosophers themselves.* 2.89 Plus sapit vulgus, quia tantum, quantum opus est, sapit. The vulgar are so much the wiser, because they only know what is needful for them to know. The most remarkable Men, as I have judg'd by outward appearance (for to judge of them according to my own Method, I must penetrate a great deal deeper) for Souldiers and military Conduct, were the Duke of Guise, who died at Orleance, and the late Mareschal Strozzy. And for Gun∣men of great Ability, and no common Virtue, Olivier, and de l'Hospital, Chancellours of France. Poesie too in my Opinion has flourish'd in this Age of ours. We have abundance of very good Artificers in the Trade, Aurat, Beze, Buchanan, l'Hospital, Montdore, and Turnebus. As to the French Poets, I believe they have rais'd it to the highest pitch to which it can ever arrive; and

in those Parts of it wherein Ronsard and du Bellay excell, I find them little inferiour to the Ancient Perfection. Adrian Turnebus knew more, and what he did know, better than any Man of his Time, or long before him. The Lives of the last ••••••ke of Alva, and of our Constable de M••••••••orency, were both of them Great and No∣bl••▪ and that had many rare resemblances of F••••••une: but the beauty and glory of the ••••••th of the last, in the sight of Paris and of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 King, against his nearest Relations, in their S••••vice, at the head of an Army, through his Conduct victorious, and by a blow of hand in so extream an old Age, merits methinks to be recorded amongst the most remarkable Events of our Times. As also the constant Vertue, sweetness of Manners, and Conscientious Facili∣ty of Monsieur de la Noue, in so great an Inju∣stice of armed Parties (the true School of Trea∣son, Inhumanity, and Robbery,) wherein he al∣ways kept up the reputation of a good Man, and a great and experienc'd Captain. I have taken a delight to publish in several Places the hopes I have of Mary de Gournay le Jars, my Daughter of Alliance; and certainly belov'd by me with more than a Paternal Love, and mewd up in my Solitude and Retirement as one of the best parts of my own Being. I have no regard to any thing in this World but her; and if a man may presage from her Youth, her Soul will one day be capable of very great things; and amongst o∣thers, of the Perfection of that Sacred Friend∣ship, to which we do not read that any of her

Sex could ever yet arrive; the sincerity and so∣lidity of her Manners are already sufficient for it, and her Affection towards me more than su∣perabundant, and such as that there is nothing more to be wish'd, if not that the Apprehensi∣on she has of my End, being now five and fif∣ty years old, might not so much afflict her. The Judgment she made of my first Essays, being a Woman so young, and in this Age, and alone in her own Country, and the famous vehemency wherewith she lov'd, and desir'd me upon the sole Esteem she had of me, before she ever saw my Face, is an Accident very worthy of Consi∣deration. Other Vertues have had little or no credit in this Age; but Valour is become po∣pular by our Civil Wars: and in this, we have Souls brave, even to Perfection, and in so great number, that the Choice is impossible to be made. This is all of extraordinary, and not com∣mon, that has hitherto arrived at my know∣ledge.

CHAP. XVIII. Of giving the Lye.

WEll, but some one will say to me, this design of making a man's self the sub∣ject of his writing, were indeed excusable in rare and famous Men, who by their Reputation had given others a curiosity to be fully inform'd of them. It is most true, I confess it, and know ve∣ry

well, that a Tradesman will scarce lift his Eyes from his work to look at an ordinary man, when they will forsake their Business and their Shops to stare at an eminent Person when he comes to Town: it misbecomes any other to give his own Character, but such a one who has Qualities worthy of imitation, and whose Life and Opinions may serve for Example. Cae∣sar and Xenophon had whereon to found their Narrations in the greatness of their own Per∣formances, as a just and solid Foundation. And it were also to be wish'd, that we had the Jour∣nal Papers of Alexander the Great, the Com∣mentaries that Augustus, Cato, Sylla, Brutus, and others have left of their Actions. Men love and contemplate the very Statues of such Men both in Copper and Marble. This Remonstrance there∣fore is very true; but it very little concerns me.

Non recito cuiquam, nisi amicis, idque rogatus;* 2.90 Non ubivis, coramve quibuslibet: In medio qui Scripta foro recitant sunt multi, quique laventes.

I seldom do Reherse, and when I do 'Tis to my Friends, and with Reluctance too,* 2.91 Not before every one, and every where; We have too many that Rehersers are, In publick Bath, and open Markets too.

I do not here form a Statue to erect in the most eminent Place of a City, in a Church, or any publick Place;

* 2.92Non equidem hoc studio bullatis ut mihi nugis: Pagina turgescat: Secreti loquimur.

I study not to make my Pages swell With mighty trifles, secret things I tell.

'tis for some corner of a Library, or to enter∣tain a Neighbour, a Kinsman, or a Friend, that has a mind to renew his Acquaintance and Fa∣miliarity with this Image I have made of my self. Others have been encourag'd to speak of them∣selves, because they found the Subject worthy and rich; I, on the contrary, am the bolder, by reason the Subject is so poor and steril, that I can∣not be suspected of Ostentation. I judge freely of the Actions of others, I give little of my own to judge of, because they are nothing: I do not find so much good in my self as to tell it with∣out blushing. What contentment would it be to me to hear any one thus relate to me the Man∣ners, Faces, Countenances, the ordinary Words and Fortunes of my Ancestors? how attentively should I listen to it! In earnest, it would be ill Nature to despise so much as the Pictures of our Friends and Predecessors, the fashion of their Cloths and Arms. I preserve my Father's Wri∣ting, his Seal, and one peculiar Sword of his, and have not thrown long Staves he us'd to carry in his hand out of my Closet.* 2.93 Paterna vestis, & annulus, tanto charior est posteris, quanto erga pa∣rentes major affectus. A Father's Garment and

Ring, is by so much dearer to his Posterity, as they had the greater affection towards them. If my Posterity nevertheless shall be of another mind, I shall be reveng'd on them; for they cannot care less for me, than I shall then do for them. All the Traffick that I have in this with the Publick, is, that I borrow those Utensils of their Writing, which are more easie and most at hand, and in Recompence, shall peradventure keep a pound of Butter in the Market from mel∣ting in the Sun.

Ne toga cordyllis,* 2.94 ne penula desit olivis Et laxas scombris saepe dabo tunicas.

I'll furnish Plaice and Olives with a Coat, And cover Mackarel when the Sun shines hot.

And though no body should read me, have I lost my time in entertaining my self so many idle hours, in so pleasing and useful Thoughts? In moulding this Figure upon my self, I have been so oft constrain'd to temper and compose my self in a right posture, that the Copy is truly taken, and has in some sort form'd it self. But painting for others, I represent my self in a better colouring than my own natural Comple∣xion. I have no more made my Book than my Book has made me. 'Tis a Book consubstantial with the Author, of a peculiar Design: a Mem∣ber of my Life, and whose Business is not de∣sign'd for others, as that of all other Books is. In giving my self so continual, and so exact an

account of my self, have I lost my time? For they who sometimes cursorily survey themselves only, do not so strictly examine themselves, nor penetrate so deep, as he who makes it his Busi∣ness, his Study, and his whole Employment, who intends a lasting Record, with all his Fidelity, and with all his Force. The most delicious Plea∣sures do so digest themselves within, that they avoid leaving any trace of themselves, and avoid the sight not only of the People, but of any particular Man. How oft has this Meditation diverted me from troublesome Thoughts? and all that are frivolous should be reputed so. Na∣ture has presented us with a large faculty of entertaining our selves alone: and oft calls us to it, to teach us, that we owe our selves in part to Society, but chiefly and mostly to our selves. That I may habituate my Fancy, even to me∣ditate in some Method, and to some end, and to keep it from losing it self, and roving at ran∣dom; 'tis but to give it a Body, and to Book all the little Thoughts that present themselves to it. I give ear to my Whimsies, because I am to record them. It oft falls out, that being dis∣pleas'd at some Actions that Civility and Reason will not permit me openly to reprove; do I here disgorge my self without design of publick In∣struction: And also these Poetical Lashes

Zon sus l' aeil, zon sur le groin, * 2.95Zon sur le dos du sagoin,

A Jerk over the Eye, over the Snowt, Let Sagoin be jerk'd throughout.

imprint themselves better upon Paper, than up∣on the most sensible Flesh. What if I listen to Books a little more attentively than ordinary, since I watch if I can purloin any thing that may adorn or support my own? I have not at all studied to make a Book; but I have in some sort studied because I had made it, if it be study∣ing to scratch and pinch now one Author, and then another, either by the head or foot; not with any design to steal Opinions from them; but to assist, second, and fortifie those I already have embrac'd. But who shall we believe in the report he makes of himself in so corrupt an Age? considering there are so few, if any at all, whom we can believe, when speaking of others, where there is less interest to lye. The first thing that is done in order to the corruption of Manners, is banishing of Truth; for, as Pindar says, to be sincerely true, is the beginning of a great Virtue, and the first Article that Plato requires in the Governour of his Republick. The truth of these dayes is not that which really is, but what every man persuades himself, or that he is made to believe; as we generally give the name of Money, not only to pieces of the just alloy, but even to the false also, if they are current, and will pass. Our Nation has long been reproach'd with this Vice; for Salvianus Massiliensis, who liv'd in the time of the Emperour Valentinian, sayes, that lying and forswearing themselves is not a Vice in the French, but a way of speak∣ing. He that would enhaunce upon this Testi∣mony, might say, that it is now a Virtue in

them. Men form and fashion themselves to it, as to an Excercise of Honour; for Dissimulation is one of the most notable Qualities of this Age. I have often consider'd whence this Custom that we so religiously observe should spring, of being more highly offended with the reproach of a Vice so familiar to us than any other, and that it should be the highest injury can in Words be done us, to reproach us with a Lye; and upon Examination, find, that it is natural to de∣fend the part that is most open, and lies expos'd to the greatest Danger. It seems as if by resent∣ing, and being mov'd at the Accusation, we in some sort acquitted our selves of the Fault; though we confess it in Effect, we condemn it in outward appearance. May it not also be, that this reproach seems to imply Cowardize and meanness of Courage? of which, can there be a more manifest sign, than to eat a Man's own Words? What, to lye against a Man's own Knowledge? Lying is a base unworthy Vice; a Vice that one of the Ancients pourtrays in the most odious colours, when he says, that it is to manifest a contempt of God,* 2.96 and withall a fear of Men. It is not possible more excellently to represent the Horror, Baseness, and Irregularity of it; for what can a man imagine more hateful and contemptible than to be a Coward towards Men, and Valiant against his Maker? Our In∣telligence, being by no other way to be con∣vey'd to one another but by speaking, who fal∣sifies that, betrays publick Society. 'Tis the on∣ly way by which we communicate our Thoughts

and Wills; 'tis the Interpreter of the Soul, and if that deceive us, we no longer know, nor have no farther tye upon one another. If that deceive us, it breaks all our Correspondence, and dissolves all the tyes of Government. Cer∣tain Nations of the new discover'd Indies (no matter for naming them, being they are no more; for by a wonderful and unheard of Ex∣ample, the Desolation of that Conquest has ex∣tended to the utter abolition of Names, and the ancient knowledge of Places) offer'd to their Gods Humane Blood, but only such as was drawn from the Tongue and Ears, to expiate for the Sin of Lying, as well heard as pronounc'd. The good Fellow of Greece was wont to say, that Children were amus'd with Toyes, and Men with Words. As to the diverse usage of our gi∣ving the Lye, and the Laws of Honour in that Case, and the alterations they have receiv'd, I shall refer saying what I know of them to ano∣ther time, and shall learn, if I can, in the mean time, at what time the Custom took beginning of so exactly weighing and measuring Words, and of making our Honours so interested in them; for it is easie to judge, that it was not ancient∣ly amongst the Greeks and Romans; and I have often thought it strange to see them rail at, and give one another the Lye without any farther Quarrel. Their Laws of Duty steer'd some other course than ours. Caesar is sometimes call'd Thief, and sometimes Drunkard to his Teeth. We see the liberty of Invectives they practis'd upon one another; I mean the greatest Chiefs

of War of both Nations, where words are only reveng'd with words, and never proceed to any farther Quarrel.

CHAP. XIX. Of Liberty of Conscience.

TIs usual to see good Intentions, if carried on without Moderation, push men on to very vicious Effects. In this Dispute, which has at this time engag'd France in a Civil War, the better and the soundest Cause no doubt is that which maintains the ancient Religion and Go∣vernment of the Kingdom. Nevertheless, amongst the good men of that Party, (for I do not speak of those that only make a pretence, either to ex∣ecute their own particular Revenges, or to gra∣tifie their Avarice, or to pursue the Favour of Princes; but of those who engage in the quar∣rel out of true Zeal to Religion, and a vertuous Affection to maintain the Peace and Govern∣ment of their Country) of these I say, we see many whom Passion transports beyond the bounds of Reason, and sometimes inspires them with Counsels that are unjust and violent,* 2.97 and moreover inconsiderate and rash. It is true, that in those first times when our Religion began to gain Authority with the Laws, Zeal armed ma∣ny against all sorts of Pagan Books, by which the learned suffer'd an exceeding great loss. A disorder that I conceive did more prejudice

to Letters, than all the Flames of the Barbari∣ans. Of this Cornelius Tacitus is a very good Testimony; for though the Emperour Tacitus, his Kinsman, had by express Order furnish'd all the Libraries in the World with it, nevertheless one entire Copy could not escape the curious examination of those who desir'd to abolish it, for only five or six idle Clauses that were con∣trary to our belief. They had also the trick ea∣sily to lend undue Praises to all the Emperours who did any thing for us, and universally to condemn all the Actions of those who were our Adversaries, as is evidently manifest in the Em∣perour Julian, surnamed the Apostate; who was in truth a very great and a rare Man,* 2.98 a Man in whose Soul Philosophy was imprinted in the best Characters, by which he profess'd to govern all his Actions; and in truth there is no sort of Vir∣tue of which he has not left behind him very notable examples. In Chastity, (of which the whole course of his Life has given manifest Proof) we read the same of him,* 2.99 that was said of Alex∣ander and Scipio, that being in the Flower of his age, for he was slain by the Parthians at one and thirty, of a great many very beautiful Cap∣tives, he would not so much as look upon one. As to his Justice, he took himself the Pains to hear the Parties, and although he would out of Curiosity enquire what Religion they were of, nevertheless the hatred he had to ours, never gave any counterpoise to the Balance. He made himself several good Laws, and cut off a great part of the Subsidies and Taxes impos'd and le∣vied

by his Predecessors. We have two good Historians who were eye Witnesses of his Acti∣ons: one of which, Marcellinus, in several Places of his History, sharply reproves an Edict of his whereby he interdicted all Christian Rhetoricians and Grammarians to keep School, or to teach, and says he could wish that Act of his had been buried in Silence. It is very likely, that had he done any more severe things against us, he, so affectionate as he was to our party, would not have pass'd it over in silence. He was indeed sharp against us; but yet no cruel Enemy: for our own People tell this Story of him, that one day, walking about the City of Chalcedon, Maris, Bishop of the Place, was so bold as to tell him that he was impious, and an Enemy to Christ, at which, say they, therein affecting a philosophi∣cal Patience, he was no further mov'd, than to reply, Go Wretch, and lament the loss of thy Eyes, to which the Bishop reply'd again, I thank Jesus Christ for taking away my sight, that I may not see thy impudent Face. So it is, that this Action of his savours nothing of the Cruelty that he is said to have exercis'd towards us. He was (says Eutropius, my other Witness) an Enemy to Chri∣stianity, but without putting his Hand to Blood. And to return to his Justice,* 2.100 there is nothing in that whereof he can be accus'd, the severity ex∣cepted he practis'd in the beginning of his Reign, against those who had follow'd the Party of Con∣stantius, his Predecessor. As to his Sobriety, he liv'd always a Souldier's kind of Life;* 2.101 and kept a Table in the most profound Peace, like one that prepar'd

and inur'd himself to the austerities of War. His Vigilancy was such,* 2.102 that he divided the Night into three or four parts, of which, always the least was dedicated to sleep, the rest was spent either in visiting the estate of his Army and Guards, in Person, or in Study; for, amongst other rare Qualities, he was very excellent in all sorts of Learning. 'Tis said of Alexander the Great, that being in Bed, for fear lest sleep should divert him from his Thoughts and Studies, he had al∣ways a Bason set by his Bed-side, and held one of his hands out with a Ball of Copper in it, to the end, that beginning to fall asleep, and his Fingers leaving their hold, the Ball by falling into the Bason might awake him. But the other had his mind so bent upon what he had a mind to do, and so little disturb'd with Fumes, by reason of his singular Abstinence, that he had no need of any such Invention.* 2.103 As to his Military Experience, he was excellent in all the Qualities of a great Captain, as it was likely he should, being almost all his Life in a continual exercise of War, and most of that time with us in France, against the Germans and Franes: We hardly read of any Man that ever saw more Dangers, or that made more frequent Proofs of his per∣sonal Valour. His Death has something in it pa∣rallel with that of Epaminondas, for he was wounded with an Arrow, and try'd to pull it out, and had done it, but that being edg'd, it cut and disabled his Hand. He incessantly call'd out, that they would carry him again in this condition into the heat of the Battel to encou∣rage

his Souldiers, who very bravely disputed the Battel without him, till Night parted the Armies. We stood oblig'd to his Philosophy for the singular contempt he had for his Life, and all Humane things. He had a firm Belief of the immortality of the Soul. In matter of Religion, he was vicious throughout, and was surnam'd the Apostate, for having relinquish'd ours: though methinks, 'tis more likely that he had never throughly embrac'd it, but had dissembled out of obedience to the Laws, till he came to the Empire. He was in his own so superstitious, that that he was laught at for it by those of the same Opinion of his own time, who jeeringly said, that had he got the Victory over the Parthians, he had destroy'd the breed of Oxen in the World to supply his Sacrifices: He was more∣over besotted with the Art of Divination, and gave Authority to all sorts of Predictions. He said, amongst other things, at his Death, that he was oblig'd to the Gods, and thank'd them, in that they would not cut him off by Surprize, having long before advertis'd him of the Place and Hour of his Death, nor by a mean and unmanly Death, more becomming lazy and de∣licate People, nor by a Death that was langui∣shing, long, and painful; and that they had thought him worthy to Dye after that noble manner, in the progress of his Victories, in the flower of his Age, and in the height of his Glo∣ry.* 2.104 He had a Vision like that of Marcus Brutus, that first threatned him in Gaul, and afterward appear'd to him in Persia just before his Death.

These Words, that some make him say when he felt himself wounded, Thou hast overcome Na∣zaren; or as others, Content thy self Nazaren; would hardly have been omitted, had they been believ'd by my Witnesses, who being present in the Army, have set down to the least motions and words of his end, no more than certain other Miracles that are recorded of him. And to return to my Subject, he long nourish'd, says Marcellinus, Paganism in his Heart; but all his Army being Christians, he durst not own it. But in the end, seeing himself strong enough to dare to discover himself, he caus'd the Temples of the Gods to be thrown open, and did his ut∣most to set on foot and to encourage Idolatry: Which the better to effect, having at Constanti∣nople found the People disunited, and also the Prelates of the Church divided amongst them∣selves, having conven'd them all before him, he gravely and earnestly admonish'd them to calm those civil Dissentions, and that every one might freely, and without fear follow his own Religi∣on. Which he did the more sedulously sollicit, in hope that this Licence would augment the Schisms and Faction of their Division, and hin∣der the People from reuniting, and consequent∣ly fortifying themselves against him by their unanimous Intelligence and Concord; having experimented by the cruelty of some Christians, that there is no Beast in the World so much to be fear'd by Man, as Man. These are very near his Words, wherein this is very worthy of con∣sideration, that the Emperor Julian made use

of the same Receipt of Liberty of Conscience to inflame the civil Dissentions, that our Kings do to extinguish them. So that a man may say on one side, that to give the People the Reins to entertain every man his own Opinion,* 2.105 is to scat∣ter and sow Division, and, as it were, to lend a hand to augment it, their being no fence nor correction of Law to stop and hinder their Car∣reer; but on the other side, a Man may also say, that to give the People the Reins to enter∣tain every Man his own Opinion, is to mollifie and appease them by Facility and Toleration, and dull the point which is whetted and made sharper by variety, novelty, and difficulty. And I think it is better for the Honour of the Devo∣tion of our Kings, that not having been able to do what they would, they have made a shew of being willing to do what they could.

CHAP. XX. That we taste nothing pure.

THE imbecillity of our Condition is such, that things cannot in their natural sim∣plicity and purity fall into our Use; the Ele∣ments that we enjoy are chang'd, even Metals themselves, and Gold must in some sort be de∣bas'd to fit it for our Service. Neither has Vir∣tue, so simple as that which Aristo, Pyrro, and al∣so the Stoicks have made the principal end of Life; nor the Cerenaick and Aristippick Pleasure,

been without mixture useful to it. Of the Plea∣sure and Goods that we enjoy, there is not one exempt from some mixture of ill and inconve∣nience.

—medio de fonto leporum,* 2.106 Surgit amari aliquid, quod in ipsis floribus angat.

Something that's bitter will arise Even amidst our jollities.

Our extreamest Pleasure has some Air of groan∣ing and complaining in't. Would you not say that it is dying of Pain? Nay, when we forge the Image of it, we stuff it with sickly and pain∣ful Epithets; Languor, Softness, Feebleness, Faintness, Morbidezza, a great Testimony of their Consanguinity and Consubstantiality. The most profound Joy has more of Severity than Gayety in it. The most extream and most full contentment, more of the grave and temperate than of the wanton. Ipsa faelicitas, se nisi temperat premit. Even Felicity, unless it moderate it self,* 2.107 oppresseth. Delight chews and grinds us; accord∣ing to the old Greek Verse, which says, that the Gods sell us all the Goods they give us; that is to say, that they give us nothing Pure and Per∣fect, and that we do not purchace them but at the price of some evil. Labour and Pleasure, ve∣ry unlike in Nature, associate nevertheless by I know not what natural Conjunction. Socrates says, that some God try'd to mix in one mass, and to confound Pain and Pleasure, but not be∣ing able to do it, he unbethought him, at least

to couple them by the Tail. Metrodorus said, that in Sorrow there is some mixture of Pleasure: I know not whether or no he intended any thing else by that saying: but for my part, I am of Opinion, that there is design, consent, and com∣placency in giving a Man's self up to Melancho∣ly. I say, that besides Ambition, which may also have a stroke in the Business; there is some sha∣dow of Delight and Delicacy which smiles up∣on and flatters us even in the very lap of Me∣lancholy. Are there not some Complexions that feed upon it?

* 2.108— est quaedam flere voluptas.

A certain kind of Pleasure 'tis to weep.

And one Attalus in Seneca says, that the Memo∣ry of our lost Friends is as grateful to us, as bitterness in Wine too old is to the Palat,

* 2.109Minister veteris puer falerni Ingere mi calices amariores.

Thou Boy, that fill'st the old Falernian Wine, The bitt'rest pour into the Boul that's mine.

and as Apples that have a sweet tartness. Na∣ture discovers this confusion to us. Painters hold, that the same Motions and screwings of the Face that serve for weeping, serve for laughter too; and indeed, before the one or the other be finish'd, do but observe the Painters manner of handling, and you will be in doubt to which of the two the design does tend. And the ex∣tremity

of Laughter does at last bring Tears. Nullum sine auctora mente malum est. No evil is without its Compensation.* 2.110 When I imagine man abounding with all the pleasure and conveni∣ences that are to be desir'd, let us put the case that all his Members were always seiz'd with a pleasure like that of Generation in its most ex∣cessive height; I feel him melting under the weight of his delight, and see him utterly un∣able to support so pure, so continual, and so uni∣versal a pleasure. Indeed he is running away whilst he is there, and naturally makes haste to escape, as from a place where he cannot stand firm, and where he is afraid of sinking. When I the most strictly and religiously confess my self, I find that the best Vertue I have has in it some tincture of Vice: and am afraid that Pla∣to, in his purest Vertue, (I who am as sincere and perfect a lover of Vertue of that stamp, as any other whatever) if he had list'ned, and laid his ear close to himself (and he did so) he would have heard some jarring sound of Hu∣mane mixture: but faint and remote, and only to be perceiv'd by himself. Man is wholly and throughout but patch and motly. Even the Laws of Justice themselves cannot subsist with∣out mixture of Injustice: insomuch that Plato says, they undertake to cut off the Hydra's head, who pretend to clear the Law of all in∣convenience.* 2.111 Omne magnum exemplum habet aliquid ex iniquo, quod contra singulos utilitate publica rependitur. Every great example has in it some mixture of Injustice, which recompences the

wrong done to particular men by the publick uti∣lity, says Tacitus. It is likewise true, that for the usage of Life, and the service of publick Commerce, there may be some excesses in the purity and perspicacity of our minds; that pe∣netrating light has in it too much of subtilty and curiosity: we must a little stupifie, and blunt, and abate them, to render them more obedient to example and practice; and a little veil and obscure them, the better to proportion them to this dark and earthly Life. And yet com∣mon, and less speculative Souls are found to be more proper, and more successful in the manage∣ment of Affairs; and the elevated and exqui∣site Opinions of Philosophy more unfit for busi∣ness. This sharp vivacity of Soul, and the sup∣ple and restless volubility attending it, disturb our Negotiations. We are to manage humane Enterprizes more superficially and rudely, and leave a great part to Fortune. It is not necessa∣ry to examine Affairs with so much subtlety, and so deep: a man loses himself in the consi∣deration of so many contrary lustres, and so many various forms.* 2.112 Voluntatibus res inter se pugnantes, obtorpuerant animi. Whilst they consi∣der'd of things so indifferent in themselves, they were astonish'd, and knew not what to do. 'Tis what the Ancients say of Simonides, that by reason his imagination suggested to him, upon the question King Hiero had put to him, (to answer which he had had many days to medi∣tate in) several witty and subtile considerati∣ons, whilst he doubted which was the most

likely, he totally despair'd of the truth. Who dives into, and in his inquisition comprehends all circumstances and consequences, hinders his election: a little Engine well handled, is suffi∣cient for executions of less or greater weight and moment. The best Husbands are those who can worst give account how they are so; and the greatest Talkers for the most part do no∣thing to purpose. I know one of this sort of men, and a most excellent director in all sorts of good husbandry, who has miserably let an hundred thousand Livers yearly Revenue slip through his hands. I know another, who says, that he is able to give better advice than any of his Counsel; and there is not in the world a fairer shew of a Soul, and of great understan∣ding, than he has; nevertheless, when he comes to the test, his Servants find him quite another thing; not to make any further mention of his misfortune.

CHAP. XXI. Against Idleness.

THe Emperour Vespasian, being sick of the Disease whereof he died, did not for all that neglect to enquire after the Estate of the Empire; and even in bed continually dispatcht very many Affairs of great consequence; for which, being reprov'd by his Physician, as a thing prejudicial to his health, An Emperour, said he,

must dye standing. A fine saying in my Opini∣on, and worthy a great Prince. The Emperour Adrian since made use of the same Words, and Kings should be often put in mind of it, to make them know, that the great Office con∣fer'd upon them of the command of so many men, is not an Employment of ease; and that there is nothing can so justly disgust a Subject, and make him unwilling to expose himself to Labour and Danger for the Service of his Prince, than to see him in the mean time devoted to his Ease and unmanly Delights: and to be sollicitous of his Preservation, who so much neglects that of his People. Whoever will take upon him to maintain, that 'tis better for a Prince to carry on his Wars by others, than in his own Person; Fortune will furnish him with Examples enough of those whose Lieutenants have brought great Enterprizes to a happy Issue, and of those also whose Presence has done more hurt than good. But no virtuous and valiant Prince, can with Patience endure so dishonourable Councils, un∣der colour of saving his Head, like the Statue of a Saint, for the Happiness of his Kingdom; they degrade him from, and declare him incapable of his Office, which is Military throughout. I know one who had much rather be beaten, than to sleep whilst another fights for him; and who never without jealousie heard of any brave thing done even by his own Officers in his Absence. And Selimus said, with very good Reason, in my Opinion, That Victories obtain'd without the Ma∣ster, were never compleat. Much more would he

have said, that that Master ought to blush for shame, to pretend to any share in the Honour, having contributed nothing to the work, but his Voice and thought; nor even so much as those, considering that in such work as that, the Direction and Command that deserve Honour are only such as are given upon the place, and in the heat of the Business. No Pilot performs his Office by standing still. The Princes of the Ottoman Family, the chiefest in the World in Military Fortune, have warmly embrac'd this Opinion, and Bajazet the second, with his Son that swerv'd from it, spending their time in Sciences and other retir'd Employments, gave great blows to their Empire: and Amurath the third, now reigning, following their Example, be∣gins to find the same. Was it not Edward the Third King of England, who said this of our Charles the Fifth? There never was King who so seldom put on his Arms, and yet never King who cut me out so much Work. He had reason to think it strange, as an effect of Chance more than of Reason. And let those seek out some other to joyn with them than me, who will reckon the Kings of Castile and Portugal amongst the warlike and magnani∣mous Conquerors, because at the distance of twelve hundred Leagues from their lasie abode, by the Conduct of their Captains, they made themselves Masters of both Indies; of whom it would be known, if they have but the Courage to go and in Person enjoy them. The Emperour Julian said yet further, that a Philosopher, and a brave man, ought not so much as to breathe;

that is to say, not to allow any more to bodily Necessities, than what we cannot refuse; keep∣ing the Soul and Body still intent and busie about honourable, great, and virtuous things: he was asham'd if any one in publick saw him spit, or sweat, (which is said by some also of the Lacedemonian young men, and that Xenophon says of the Persian) forasmuch as he conceiv'd that Exercise, continual Labour, and Sobriety, ought to have dried up all those Superfluities. What Seneca says will not be unfit for this Place; which is, that the antient Romans kept their Youth always standing, and taught them nothing that they were to learn sitting. 'Tis a generous desire to wish to dye usefully, and like a Man, but the Effect lies not so much in our Resolution as good Fortune. A thousand have propos'd to themselves in Battel, either to over∣come, or dye, who have fail'd both in the one and the other: Wounds and Imprisonment cros∣sing their Design, and compelling them to live against their Wills. There are Diseases that over∣throw so much as our Desires, and our Knowledge. Fortune ought not to second the Vanity of the Roman Legions, who bound themselves by Oath, either to overcome▪ or dye. Victor, Marce Fabi, revertar ex acie: si fallo, Jovem patrem Gradi∣vumque Martem, aliosque iratos invoco Deos. I will return (Marcus Fabius) a Conquerour from the Army: and if I fail, I wish the Indignation of Jove, Mars, and the other offended Gods, may light upon me. The Portuguese say, that in a cer∣tain Place of their Conquest of the Indies, they

met with Souldiers who had damn'd themselves with horrible Execrations, to enter into no other Composition, but either to cause themselves to be slain, or to remain Victorious; and had their Heads and Beards shav'd in token of this Vow. 'Tis to much purpose for us to hazard our selves, and to be obstinate. It seems as if blows avoid∣ed those that present themselves too briskly to Danger; and do not willingly fall upon those who too willingly seek them, and so defeat them of their Design. Such there have been, after ha∣ving try'd all ways, not having been able with all their Endeavour to obtain the Favour of dying by the hand of the Enemy, have been constrain'd to make good their Resolution of bringing home the Honour of Victory, or of losing their Lives, to kill themselves even in the heat of Battel. Of which there are other Examples, but this is one. Philistus, General of the naval Army of Dionysius the younger against those of Syracusa, presented them Battel, which was sharply disputed, their Forces being equal. In which Engagement he had the better at the first, through his own Va∣lour: but the Syracusans drawing about his Ad∣miral Gally to environ him, after having done great things in his own Person to disengage himself, hoping for no relief, with his own hand took away that Life he had so liberally, and in vain, expos'd to the Fury of the Enemy. Muley Moluck King of Fez, who won the Battel against Sebastian King of Portugal, so famous for the Death of three Kings, and by the transmission of that great Kingdom to the Crown of Castile;

was extreamly sick when the Portuguese enter'd in an hostile manner into his Dominions; and from that day forward grew worse and worse, still drawing nearer to, and foreseeing his end: Yet never did man better employ his own suffi∣ciency more vigorously and bravely than he did upon this Occasion. He found himself too weak to undergo the Pomp and Ceremony of entring into his Camp, which after their man∣ner is very Magnificent, and therefore resign'd that Honour to his Brother; but that was also all of the Office of a General that he resign'd, all the rest of greatest Utility and Necessity he most exactly and gloriously performed in his own Person; his body lying upon a Couch, but his Judgment and Courage upright and firm to his last gasp, and in some sort beyond it. He might have defeated his Enemy, indiscreetly advanc'd into his Dominions without striking a Blow; and it was a very unhappy Occurrence, that for want of a little Life or some body to substitute in the Conduct of this War, and the Affairs of a troubled State, he was compell'd to seek a doubt∣ful and bloody Victory, having another by a better and surer way already in his hands. Not∣withstanding he wonderfully manag'd the con∣tinuance of his Sickness in consuming the Ene∣my, and in drawing them far from the assistance of the Naval Army they had in the Ports of Affrick, even till the last day of his Life, which he designedly reserv'd for this furious Battel. He order'd his Battel in a circular Form, envi∣ronning the Portugal Army on every side, which

round comming to close in the Wings, and to draw up close together, did not only hinder them in the Conflict (which was very sharp through the Valour of the young invading King) considering they were every way to make a Front, but prevented their Flight after the De∣feat, so that finding all Passages possest and shut up by the Enemy, they were constrain'd to close up together again; coacervanturque non so∣lum caede, sed etiam fuga, and there they were slain in heaps upon one another, leaving to the Conquerour a very bloody and entire Victory. Dying, he caus'd himself to be carried and hur∣ried from place to place where most need was, and passing through the Files, encouraged the Captains and Souldiers one after another. But a corner of his Battel being broken, he was not to be held from mounting on Horseback with his Sword in his hand. He did his utmost to break from those about him, and to rush into the thickest of the Battel, they all the while withholding him, some by the Bridle, some by his Robe, and others by his Stirrups. This last Effort totally overwhelm'd the little Life he had left, they again lay him upon his Bed; but comming to himself again, and starting out of his Swoon, all other faculties failing, to give his People notice that they were to conceal his Death (the most necessary command he had then to give, that his Souldiers might not be dis∣courag'd with the news) he expos'd with his Finger upon his Mouth the ordinary sign of keeping silence. Who ever liv'd so long and

so far in Death? whoever died more like a Man? The most extream degree of entertaining Death, and the most natural, is to look upon it not on∣ly without astonishment but without care, con∣tinuing the wonted course of Life even into it. As Cato did, who entertain'd himself in study, and went to sleep, having a violent and bloo∣dy one in his Heart, and the Weapon in his hand, with which he was resolved to dispatch himself.

CHAP. XXII. Of Posts.

I Have been none of the least able in this Ex∣ercise, which is proper for men of my pitch, short and well knit; but I give it over, it shakes us too much to continue long. I was just now reading,* 2.113 that King Cyrus, the better to have News brought him from all parts of the Empire, which was of a vast extent; caus'd it to be try'd how far a Horse could go in a day without baiting, and at that distance appointed Stages and Men, whose business it was to have Horses always in readiness, to mount those who were dispatch'd away to him. And some say, that this swift way of posting, is equal to that of the flight of Cranes. Caesar says, that Lucius Vibulus Rufus, being in great haste to carry Intelligence to Pompey, rid Day and Night, still taking fresh Horses for the greater Diligence and Speed; and himself, as

Suetonius reports, travelled a hundred miles a day in a hir'd Coach; but he was a furious Cour∣rier, from where the Rivers stopt his way, he always past them by swimming, without turning out of his way to look for either Bridg or Ford. Tiberius Nero, going to see his Brother Drusus, who was sick in Germany, travell'd two hundred miles in four and twenty hours, having three Coaches. In the War the Romans had against King Antiochus, T. Sempronius Gracchus, says Livie,* 2.114 Per dispositos equos propè incredibili celeri∣tate ab Amphissa tertio die Pellam pervenit. Vpon Horses purposely laid in, he by an almost incredible speed, rid in three dayes from Amphissa to Pella. And it appears there, that they were establish'd Posts, and not Horses purposely laid in upon this Occasion. Cecinna's Invention to send back News to his Family, was much more quick, for he took Swallows along with him from home, and turn'd them out towards their Nests when he would send back any News; setting a mark of some colour upon them to signifie his mean∣ing, according to what he and his People had before agree'd upon. At the Theater at Rome,* 2.115 Masters of Families carried Pigeons in their Bo∣somes, to which they tyed Letters, when they had a mind to send any Orders to their People at home; and the Pigeons were train'd up to bring back an Answer. D. Brutus made use of the same Device, when besieg'd in Mutina, and others elsewhere have done the same. In Peru, they rid post upon mens shoulders, who took them upon their shoulders in a certain kind of

Litter made for that purpose, and ran with such Agility, that in their full speed, the first Couriers throw their load to the second, without making any stop; and so on. I understand that the Va∣lachians, who are the grand Signiors Couriers, perform wonderful Diligences, by reason they have Liberty to dismount the first they meet up∣on the road, giving him their own tir'd Horses; to preserve themselves from being weary, they gird themselves straight about the middle with a broad Girdle, but I could never find any be∣nefit by it.

CHAP. XXIII. Of ill means employ'd to a good end.

THere is wonderful Relation and Correspon∣dence in this universal Government of the Works of Nature, which very well makes it ap∣pear that it is neither accidental, nor carried on by divers Masters. The Diseases and Conditi∣ons of our Bodies is in like manner manifest in Estates, and the various Governments of the World. Kingdoms and Republicks are founded, flourish, and decay with Age as we do. We are subject to a repletion of Humours either useless or dangerous, either of those that are good (for even those the Physicians are afraid of: and be∣ing that we have nothing in us that is perma∣nent, they say that a too brisk and vigorous perfection of Health, must be abated by Art, lest

being that our Nature cannot rest in any cer∣tain condition, and not having whither to rise to mend it self, it makes too sudden and too disorderly a Retreat; and therefore prescribe Wrestlers to purge and bleed, to qualifie that superabundant Health) or else a Repletion of evil Humours, which is the ordinary cause of Sickness. Estates are very often sick of the like Repletion, and therefore sorts of Purgations have commonly been us'd. Sometimes a great multitude of Families are turn'd out to clear the Country; who seek out new Abodes else∣where, and encroach upon others. After this manner our ancient Francs came from the re∣motest part of Germany to seize upon Gaule, and to drive thence the first Inhabitants; so was that infinite deluge of Men made up that came into Italy under the Conduct of Brennus, and others: so the Goths and Vandals; also the Peo∣ple who now possess Greece, left their native Country, to go settle elsewhere where they might have more room; and there is scarce two or three little corners of the World that have not felt the effect of such Removals. The Ro∣mans by this means erected their Colonies, for perceiving their City to grow immeasurably populous, they eas'd it of the most unnecessary People, and sent them to inhabit and cultivate the Lands by them conquer'd: sometimes also they purposely maintain'd Wars with some of their Enemies, not only to keep their men in action, for fear lest Idleness, the Mother of Cor∣ruption, should bring upon them some worse inconvenience;

* 2.116Et patimur longae pacis mala, saevior armis Luxuria incumbit.

We suffer th' ills of a long Peace, by far Greater, and more pernicious than War.

but also to serve for a Blood-letting to their Republick, and a little to evaporate the too ve∣hement heat of their Youth, to prune and cleanse the Branches from the Stock too luxuriant in Wood; and to this end it was, that they formerly maintain'd so long a War with Carthage. In the Treaty of Bretigny, Edward the third, King of England, would not, in the general Peace he then made with our King, comprehend the Controver∣sie about the Dutchy of Brittany, that he might have a Place wherein to discharge himself of his Souldiers, and that the vast number of English he had brought over to serve him in that Ex∣pedition, might not return back into England. And this also was one reason why our King Phi∣lip consented to send his Son John that Foreign Expedition, that he might take along with him a great number of hot Young-men that were then in his Pay. There are many in our Times who talk at this rate, wishing that this hot Emo∣tion that is now amongst us, might discharge it self in some neighbouring War, for fear lest all the peccant Humours that now reign in this politick Body of ours, may not diffuse themselves farther, keep the Fever still in the height, and at last cause our total Ruin; and in truth a Foreign is much more supportable than a Civil

War; but I do not believe that God will favour so unjust a design, as to offend and quarrel others for our own advantage.

Nil mihi tam valde placeat Rhamnusia virgo,* 2.117 Quod temere invitis suscipiatur heris.

In War that does invade another's right, Whose end is plunder, I take no delight.

And yet the weakness of our condition does of∣ten push us upon the necessity of making use of ill means to a good end. Lycurgus, the most ver∣tuous and perfect Legislator that ever was, in∣vented this unjust practice of making the Helo∣tes, who were there Slaves, drunk by force, by so doing to teach his People Temperance, to the end that the Spartiates seeing them so overwhelm∣ed and buried in Wine, might abhor the excess of this beastly Vice. And yet they were more too blame, who of old gave leave that Criminals, to what sort of death soever condemn'd, should be cut up alive by the Physicians, that they might make a true discovery of our inward parts, and build their Art upon greater certainty: for if we must run into excesses, 'tis more excusable to do it for the health of the Soul, than that of the Body; as the Romans train'd up the People to Valour, and the contempt of Dangers, and Death, by those furious Spectacles of Gladiators and Fencers, who being to fight it out to the last, cut, mangled, and killed one another in their Presence:

* 2.118Quid vesani aliud sibi vult ars impia ludi, Quid mortes juvenum, quid sanguine pasta volup∣tas?

Of such inhumane sports what further use? What Pleasure can slaughters of men produce?

and this custom continued till the Emperour Theodosius his time.

* 2.119Arripe dilatam tua dux in tempora famam, Quodque patris superest successor laudis habeto: Nullus in Vrbe cadat, cujus sit poena Voluptas, Jam solis contenta feris infamis arena, Nulla cruentatis homicidia ludat in armis.

Prince, take the Honours destin'd for thy Reign, Inherit of thy Father those remain, Henceforth let none at Rome for sport be slain. Let beast's Blood stain th' infamous Theater, And no more Homicides be acted there.

It was in truth a wonderful Example, and of great advantage for the training up the Peo∣ple, to see every day before their Eyes a hun∣dred, two hundred, nay, a thousand couples of Men arm'd against one another, cut one another to pieces with so great a constancy of Courage, that they were never heard to utter so much as one syllable of Weakness or Commiseration; ne∣ver seen to turn their back, nor so much as to make one cowardly step to evade a Blow, but rather expose their Necks to the Adversaries Sword, and present themselves to receive the

stroke. And many of them, when wounded to Death, have sent to ask the Spectators if they were satisfied with their behaviour, before they lay down to dye upon the Place. It was not enough for them to Fight and to Dye bravely, but cheerfully too; insomuch that they were hiss'd and curs'd if they made any Dispute about receiving their Death. The very Maids them∣selves set them on.

— consurgit ad ictus:* 2.120 Et quoties victor ferrum jugulo inserit, illa. Delicias ait esse suas, pectusque jacentis Virgo modesta jubet converso pollice rumpi.

The modest Virgin is delighted so With the fell sport, that she applauds the blow, And when the Victor baths his bloody brand In's fellow's Throat, and lays him on the sand, Then she's most pleas'd, and shews by signs she'd fain Have him rip up the bosom of the slain.

The first Romans only condemn'd Criminals to this Example: but they have since employ'd in∣nocent Slaves in the work, and even Freemen too, who sold themselves to this effect: nay more∣over, Senators and Knights of Rome: and also Women;

Nunc caput in mortem vendunt, & funus arenae,* 2.121 Atque hostem sibi quisque parat cum bella quie∣scunt.

They sell themselves to death, and since the Wars Are ceas'd, each for himself a Foe prepares.

* 2.122Hos inter fremitus, novosque lusus, Stat sexus rudis, insciusque ferri, Et pugnat capit improbus viriles.

Amidst these Tumults and Alarms The tender Sex, unskill'd in Arms, Immodestly will try their mights, And now engag'd in manly Fights.

which I should think strange and incredible, if we were not accustom'd every day to see in our own Wars many thousands of men of other Nations, for Money to stake their Blood and their Lives in Quarrels wherein they have no manner of concern.

CHAP. XXIV. Of the Roman Grandeur.

I will only say a word or two of this infinite Argument, to shew the simplicity of those who compare the pittiful Grandeurs of these Times to that of Rome. In the seventh Book of Cicero's Familiar Epistles (and let the Grammarians put out that sirname of Familiar if they please, for in truth it is not very proper; and they who in stead of familiar have substituted ad familiares, may gather something to justifie them for so do∣ing, out of what Suetonius says in the Life of Cae∣sar, that he had a Volume of Letters of his ad familiares) there is one directed to Caesar, be∣ing then in Gaul, wherein Cicero repeates these

words, which were in the end of another Letter that Caesar had writ to him: As to what concerns Marcus Furius, whom you have recommended to me, I will make him King of Gaul, and if you would have me advance any other Friend of yours send him to me. It was no new thing for a sim∣ple Citizen of Rome, as Caesar then was, to dis∣pose of Kingdoms, for he took away that of King Deiotarus from him, to give it to a Gen∣tleman of the City of Pergamum, call'd Mithri∣dates. And they who writ his Life, record seve∣ral Cities by him sold; and Suetonius says, that he had once from King Ptolomy three millions and six hundred thousand Crowns, which was very near selling him his own Kingdom.

Tot Galatae, tot Pontus, tot Lidia nummis.* 2.123

Such sums of Money did he raise as these From Pontus, Lidia, and the Galatees.

Marcus Antonius said, that the Grandeur of the People of Rome was not so much seen in what they took, as in what they gave. And indeed some Ages before Antonius, they had dethron'd one amongst the rest with so wonderful Autho∣rity, that in all the Roman History I have not observ'd any thing that more denotes the height of their Power. Antiochus possess'd all Egypt, and was moreover ready to conquer Cyprus, and other Appendixes of that Empire; when being upon the progress of his Victories, C. Popilius came to him from the Senate, and at their first meeting refus'd to take him by the Hand, till he

had first read his Letters, which after the King had read, and told him he would consider of them, Popilius made a Circumference about him with the stick he had in his hand, saying, Return me an Answer, that I may carry it back to the Se∣nate before thou stirrest out of this Circle. Antiochus, astonish'd at the roughness of so positive a Com∣mand, after a little Pause, replyed, I will obey the Senates Command; and then it was that Po∣pilius saluted him as a Friend to the People of Rome. After having quitted Claim to so great a Monarchy, and in such a Torrent of successful Fortune, upon three words in writing, in ear∣nest he had Reason, as he afterwards did, to send the Senate word by his Ambassadours, that he had receiv'd their Order with the same respects, as if he had been sent by the Immortal Gods. All the Kingdoms that Augustus gained by the right of War, he either restor'd to those who had lost them, or presented them to strangers. And Ta∣citus, in reference to this, speaking of Cogidunus King of England, gives us a very brisk touch of that infinite Power: The Romans, says he, were from all Antiquity accustomed to leave the Kings they had subdu'd in possession of their Kingdoms under their Authority, that they might have even Kings to be their Slaves: Vt haberent instrumenta servitutis, & reges. 'Tis like that Solyman, whom we have seen make a Gift of Hun∣gary, and other Principalities, had therein more respect to this consideration, than to that he was wont to alledge, viz. that he was glutted and overcharg'd with so many Monarchies, and so

much Dominion, as his own Valour, and that of his Ancestors had acquir'd.

CHAP. XXV. Not to counterfeit being sick.

THere is an Epigram in Martial of very good Sense, for he has of all sorts, where he pleasantly tells the story of Celius, who, to avoid making his Court to some great Men of Rome, to wait their rising, and to attend them abroad, pretended to have the Gout; and the better to colour this Pretence, anointed his Legs, and had them lap'd up in a great many Clouts and Swathings, and perfectly counterfeited both the Gesture and Countenance of a gouty Person; till in the end, Fortune did him the kindness to make him one indeed.

Tantum cura potest & ars doloris,* 2.124 Desiit fingere Caelius podagram.

The pow'r of counterfeiting is so great, Caelius has ceas'd the Gout to counterfeit.

I think I have read somewhere in Appian a story like this, of one who to escape the Proscriptions of the Triumviri of Rome, and the better to be con∣ceal'd from the discovery of those who pursued him, having shaded himself in a Disguise, would yet add this Invention to counterfeit having but one Eye; but when he came to have a little more

liberty, and went to take off the Plaister he had a great while worn over his Eye, he found he had totally lost the Sight of it indeed, and that it was absolutely gone. 'Tis possible that the Action of Sight was dull'd, for having been so long without exercise, and that the Optick pow∣er was wholly retir'd into the other Eye: For we evidently perceive, that the Eye we keep shut, sends some part of its vertue to its fellow, so that the remaining Eye will swell and grow bigger; as also Idleness, with the heat of Liga∣tures and Plaisters, might very well have brought some gouty Humour upon this dissembler of Martial. Reading in Froisard the Vow of a Troop of young English Gallants, to carry their left Eyes bound up till they were arriv'd in France, and had perform'd some notable Exploit upon us; I have oft been tickled with the conceit of it, in befalling them as it did the before named Roman, and that they had return'd with but an Eye a piece to their Mistrisses, for whose sakes they had entred into this ridiculous Vow. Mothers have reason to rebuke their Children when they counterfeit having but one Eye, Squinting, Lameness, or any other Personal de∣fect; for besides that their Bodies being then so tender may be subject to take an ill bent, For∣tune, I know not how, sometimes seems to de∣light in taking us at our word; and I have heard several Examples related of People who have become really sick, by only feigning to be so. I have always us'd, whether on Horseback, or on foot, to carry a stick in my hand, and so

as to affect doing it with a Grace. Many have threat'ned that this wantonness would one day be turn'd into necessity, that is, that I should be the first of my Family that should have the Gout. But let us a little lengthen this Chapter, and eech it with a piece of another colour, concern∣ing Blindness. Pliny reports of one, that once dreaming he was Blind, finding himself in the Morning so indeed, without any preceding in∣firmity in his Eyes. The force of Imagination might assist in this Case, as I have said elsewhere, and Pliny seems to be of the same Opinion; but it is more likely that the motions which the Bo∣dy felt within (of which Physicians if they please may find out the cause,) which took away his Sight, were the occasions of his Dream. Let us add another story, not very improper for this Sub∣ject, which Seneca relates in one of his Epistles. You know, says he, writing to Lucullus, that Har∣pate, my Wives Fool, is thrown upon me as an he∣reditary charge, for I have naturally an aversion to those Monsters; and if I have a mind to laugh at a Fool, I need not seek him far, I can laugh at my self. This Fool has suddenly lost her sight. I tell you a strange, but a very true thing; she is not sensible that she is blind, but eternally importunes her keeper to take her abroad, because she says the House is dark: I pray believe, that what we laugh at in her, happens to every one of us: no one knows himself to be avaricious. Besides, the blind call for a Guide, but we stray of our own accord. I am not ambitious, we say, but a man cannot live otherwise at Rome: I am not wastful, but the Ci∣ty

requires a great expence: 'tis not my fault if I am cholerick, and if I have not yet establish'd any certain course of Life, 'tis the fault of Youth. Let us not seek our Disease out of our selves, 'tis in us, and planted in our Bowels. And even this, that we do not perceive our selves to be sick, renders us more hard to be cur'd. If we do not betimes begin to dress our selves, when shall we have done with so many Wounds and Evils wherewith we abound? And yet we have a most sweet and charming Me∣dicine of Philosophy; for of all the rest we are sen∣sible of no Pleasure till after the Cure: this pleases and heals at once. This is what Seneca says, that has carried me from my Subject, but there is ad∣vantage in the change.

CHAP. XXVI. Of Thumbs.

TAcitus reports, that amongst certain Barba∣rian Kings, their manner was, when they would make a firm Obligation, to joyn their hands close to one another, and twist their Thumbs, and when by force of straining the Blood it appear'd in the ends, they lightly prick'd them with some sharp Instrument, and mutually suck'd them. Physicians say, that the Thumbs are the master Fingers of the Hand, and that their Latine Etymologie is deriv'd from Pollere. The Greeks call'd them 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, as who should say, another hand. And it seems that the Latins

also sometimes take it in this sence for the whole hand;

Sed nec vocibus excitata blandis,* 2.125 Molli pollice nec rogata surgit.

It was at Rome a Signification of Favour to de∣press and clap in the Thumbs;

Fautor utroque tuum laudabit pollice ludum.* 2.126

Thy Patron, when thou mak'st thy sport, Will with both Thumbs applaud thee for't.

and of disfavour to elevate and thrust them outward:

— converso pollice vulgi* 2.127 Quemlibet occidunt populariter.

The Vulgar with reverted Thumbs, Kill each one that before them comes.

The Romans exempted from War all such as were maim'd in the Thumbs, as having no more sufficient strength to hold their Arms. Augustus confiscated the Estate of a Roman Knight, who had maliciously cut off the Thumbs of two young Children he had, to excuse them from go∣ing into the Armies: and before him, the Senate, in the time of the Italick War, had condemn'd Caius Valienus to perpetual Imprisonment, and confiscated all his Goods, for having purposely cut off the Thumb of his left hand, to exempt himself from that Expedition. Some one, I have forgot who, having won a Naval Battel, cut off

the Thumbs of all his vanquish'd Enemies, to render them incapable of fighting, and of hand∣ling the Oar. The Athenians also caus'd the Thumbs of those of Aegina to be cut off, to de∣prive them of the preference in the Art of Na∣vigation. And in Lacedemonia, Pedagogues cha∣stiz'd their Scholars by biting their Thumbs.

CHAP. XXVII. Cowardize the Mother of Cruelty.

I Have oft heard it said, that Cowardize is the Mother of Cruelty: and I have found by ex∣perience, that that malicious and inhumane ani∣mosity and fierceness, is usually accompanied with a feminine faintness. I have seen the most cruel People, and upon very frivolous occasions, very apt to cry. Alexander, the Tyrant of Phe∣res, durst not be a Spectator of Tragedies in the Theatre, for fear lest his Citizens should see him weep at the Misfortunes of Hecuba and Andro∣mache; who himself caus'd so many People every day to be murthered without pity. Is it not meanness of Spirit that renders them so plyable to all Extremities? Valour (whose Effect is on∣ly to be exercis'd against resistance)

* 2.128Nec nisi bellantis gaudet cervice juvenci.

— neither unless he fight In conquering a Bull does take delight.

stops when it sees the Enemy at its mercy; but Pusillanimity, to say that it was also in the Acti∣on, not having dar'd to meddle in the first act of Danger, rushes into the second of Blood and Massacre. For the execution in Victories is com∣monly perform'd by the rascality and hangers on of an Army, and that which causes so many unheard of Cruelties in domestick Wars, is, that the hottest of the People are flesh'd in being up to the Elbows in Blood, and ripping up Bodies that lye postrate at their feet, having no sence of any other Valour.

Et Lupus, & turpes instant morientibus ursi,* 2.129 Et quaecunque minor nobilitate fera est.

None but the Wolves, the filthy Bears, and all The baser Beasts, will in the dying fall.

Like cowardly House-curs, that in the House worry and tear the Skins of wild Beasts they durst not come near in the Field. What is it in these times of ours that causes our mortal quar∣rels? And that whereas our Fathers had some degree of revenge in their dayes, we now be∣gin with the last in ours, and that at the first meeting nothing is to be said but kill? What is this but Cowardize? Every one is sensible, that there is more bravery and disdain in subduing an Enemy, than in cutting his Throat; and in making him yield, than in putting him to the Sword: besides that, the appetite of Revenge is better satisfied and pleas'd because it's only aim ••s to make it self felt. And this is the reason why

we do not fall upon a Beast or a Stone when they hurt us, because they are not capable of be∣ing sensible of our Revenge; and therefore to kill a man, is to defend him from the Injury and Offence we intend him. And as Bias cry'd out to a wicked Fellow, I know that sooner or later thou wilt have thy Reward, but I am afraid I shall not see it. And as the Orchomenians complain'd, that the Penitence of Lyciscus for the Treason committed against them, came in season, because there was no one remaining alive of those who had been interested in the Offence, and whom the Pleasure of this Penitency should affect: so Revenge is to be repented of, when the Person on whom it is executed is depriv'd of means of suffering under it: for as the Avenger will look on to enjoy the Pleasure of his Revenge, so the Person on whom he takes Revenge, should be a Spectator too, to be afflicted, and to repent. He will repent it, we say, and because we have given him a Pistol-shot through the Head, do we imagine he will repent? On the contrary, if we but observe, we shall find, that he makes a Mouth at us in falling: and is so far from pe∣nitency, that he does not so much as repine at us. And we do him the kindest Office of Life, which is to make him die insensibly, and soon. We are afterwards to hide our selves, and to shift and flye from the Officers of Justice, who pursue us whilst he is at rest. Killing is good to fru∣strate an Offence to come, not to revenge one that is already past: and more an Act of Fear than Bravery; of Precaution, than Courage, and

of Defence than of attempt. It is manifest that by it we quit both the true end of Revenge, and the care of our Reputation; we are afraid if he lives he will do us another injury as great as the first; 'tis not out of Animosity to him, but care of thy self, that thou rid'st him out of the way.* 2.130 In the Kingdom of Narsingua this ex∣pedient would be useless to us, where not only Souldiers, but Trades-men also end their Diffe∣rences by the Sword. The King never denies the Field to any that will fight; and sometimes when they are Persons of Quality, looks on, re∣warding the Victor with a Chain of Gold; but for which any one that will may fight with him again: by which means, by having come off from one Combat, he has engag'd himself in many. If we thought by Vertue to be always Masters of our Enemies, and to triumph over them at pleasure, we should be sorry they should escape from us as they do, by dying: but we have a mind to conquer more with Safety than Honour, and in our quarrel, more pursue the end than the Glory. Asinius Pollio, who,* 2.131 for being a worthy man, was the less to be excus'd, committed a like Error, who having writ a Li∣bel against Plancus, forbore to publish it, till he was first dead: which is to bite a mans Thumb at a blind man, to rail at one that is deaf, and to wound a man that has no feeling, rather than to run the hazard of his Resentment. And it was also said in his behalf, that it was only for Hobgoblins to wrestle with the dead. He that stays to see the Author dye, whose Writings he

intends to question, what does he say, but that he is foolish and troublesome? It was told Ari∣stotle, that some one had spoken ill of him: let him do more, said he, let him whip me too, pro∣vided I am not there.* 2.132 Our Fathers contented themselves to revenge an Injury with the lye, the lye with a box of the Ear, and so forward; they were valiant enough not to fear their Ad∣versary both living, and provok'd: We tremble for fear, so long as we see them on foot. And that this is so, does not our noble practice of these days, equally to prosecute to death both him that has offended us, and him we have of∣fended, make it out? 'Tis also a kind of Cow∣ardize that has introduc'd the custom of having seconds, thirds, and fourths in our Duels. They were formerly Duels, they are now Skirmishes, Rencontres, and Battels. Solitude was doubt∣less terrible to those who were the first inventors of this Practice. Quum in se cuique minimum fidu∣ciae esset. They had little confidence in themselves. For naturally any company whatever is comfor∣table in danger. Third Persons were formerly call'd in to prevent Disorder and foul play on∣ly, and to be witness of the Success of the Com∣bat. But since they have brought it to this pa•••• that they themselves engage, whoever is invited cannot handsomly stand by as an idle Spectator, for fear of being suspected either of want of Af∣fection or Courage. Besides the injustice and un∣worthiness of such an Action, of engaging other Force and Valour in the Protection of your Ho∣nour than your own; I conceive it a disadvan∣tage

to a brave man, and who wholly relies up∣on himself, to shuffle his Fortune with that of a Second; since every one runs hazard enough in himself, without hazarding for another, and has enough to do to assure himself in his own Ver∣tue for the defence of his Life, without intrust∣ing a thing so dear in a third man's hand. For, if it be not expresly agreed upon before to the contrary, 'tis a combin'd Party of all four, and if your Second be kill'd, you have two to deal withal with good reason. And to say that it is foul play, it is so indeed, as it is well arm'd to charge a man that has but the hilts of a broken Sword in his hand, or clear and untouch'd a man that is desperately wounded: but if these be advantages you have got by fighting, you may make use of them without reproach: the disparity and inequality is only weigh'd and consider'd from the condition of the Combatants when they begun, as to the rest, you must take your Fortune: and though you had alone three Enemies upon you at once, your two Compani∣ons being kill'd, you have no more wrong done you, than I should do in a Battel, by run∣ning a man through I should see engag'd with one of our own men with the like advantage. The nature of Society will have it so, that where there is Troop against Troop (as where our Duke of Orleance challeng'd Henry King of Eng∣land an hundred against an hundred: three hundred against as many as the Argians against the Lacedemonians, and three to three, as the Horatii against the Curiatii) the multitude on

either side is consider'd but as one single man, the hazard every where, where there is compa∣ny, being confus'd and mix'd. I have a dome∣stick Interest in this Discourse; for my Brother, the Sieur de Matecoulom, was at Rome entreated by a Gentleman with whom he had no great acquaintance, and who was Defendant, and challeng'd by another, to be his Second; In this Duel he found himself match'd with a Gentle∣man much better known to him, where, after having dispatch'd his man, seeing the two Prin∣cipal still on foot, and sound, he ran in to dis∣engage his Friend. What could he do less? should he have stood still, and if Chance would have order'd it so, have seen him he was come thither to defend kill'd before his face, what he had thither done signified nothing to the Bu∣siness, the Quarrel was yet undecided. The courtesie that you can, and certainly ought to shew to your Enemy, when you have reduc'd him to an ill Condition, and have a great ad∣vantage over him, I do not see how you can do it, where the Interest of another is in the case, where you are only call'd in as an Assist∣ant, and the Quarrel is none of yours. He could neither be just nor courteous at the hazard of him he was there to serve; and was also inlar∣ged from the Prisons of Italy at the speedy and solemn request of our King. Indiscreet Nation! we are not content to make our Vices and Fol∣lies known to the World by Report only, but we must go into Foreign Countreys, there to shew them what Fools we are. Put three

French-men into the Desarts of Libya, they will not live a Month together without fighting; so that you would say this Peregrination were a thing purposely design'd to give Strangers the pleasures of our Tragedies, and for the most part such as rejoyce and laugh at our miseries. We go into Italy to learn to fence, and fall to practise at the expence of our Lives before we have learn'd it: and yet, by the order of Disci∣pline, we should put the Theory before the Pra∣ctice. We discover our selves to be but Lear∣ners.

Primitiae juvenum miserae,* 2.133 bellique futuri Dura rudimenta. —

Of Youth the first Instructions painful are, And hard the Rudiments of future War.

I know Fencing is an Art very useful to its end, (in a Duel betwixt two Princes, Cousin-ger∣mans in Spain, the elder, sayes Livie, by his skill and dexterity in Arms, easily surmounting the greater and more aukward Strength of the younger) and of which, the knowledge, as I experimentally know, hath inspir'd some with Courage above their natural Talent: but this is not properly Valour, because it supports it self upon Address, and is founded upon some∣thing besides it self. The honour of Combat consists in the jealousie of Courage, and not of Skill; and therefore I have known a Friend of mine, fam'd for a great Master in this Exercise, in his Quarrels make choice of such Arms as

might deprive him of this advantage, and that wholly depended upon Fortune, and assurance, that they might not attribute his Victory ra∣ther to his skill in Fencing than his Valour. When I was young, Gentlemen avoided the re∣putation of good Fencers, as injurious to them; and learn'd with all imaginable privacy to fence, as a Trade of subtilty, derogating from true and natural Vertue.

* 2.134Non schivar, non parar, non ritirarsi, Voglion costor, ne qui destrezza ha parte, Non danno i colpi finti hor pieni, hor scarsi, Toglie l'ira e il furor l'uso de l' arte, O di le spade horribilmente urtarsi Amezzo, il ferro, il pie d'orma non parte, Sempre è il pie fermo, è la man sempre in moto, Ne scende taglio in van ne punta à voto.

* 2.135They neither shrank, nor vantage sought of ground, They travers'd not, nor skipt from part to part, Their blows were neither false, nor feigned found, The night, their rage would let them use no Art, Their Swords together clash with dreadful sound, Their feet stand fast, and neither stir nor start, They move their hands, stedfast their feet re∣main, Nor blow, nor foin they strook, or thrust in vain.

Butts, Tilting, and Barriers, the images of Warlike Fights, were the Exercises of our Fore∣fathers: this other Exercise is so much the less noble, as it only respects a private end, that

teaches us to ruine one another, against Law and Justice, and that every way always produces very ill effects. It is much more worthy, and more becoming, to exercise our selves in things that strengthen, than that weaken our Govern∣ments, and that tend to the publick safety and common glory. Publius Rutilius Consus was the first that taught the Souldiers to handle their Arms with skill, and joyn'd Art to Vertue: not for the use of private quarrel, but for War, and the Quarrels of the People of Rome. A popular and civil Art of Defence. And besides the ex∣ample of Caesar, who commanded his men to shoot chiefly at the face of Pompey's Gensdarmes in the Battel of Pharsalia: a thousand other Commanders have also unbethought them to in∣vent new forms of Weapons, and new ways of striking and defending, according as occasion shall require. But as Philopaemen condemn'd wrestling, wherein he excell'd, because the pre∣paratives that were therein employ'd were dif∣fering from those that appertain to Military Dis∣cipline, to which alone he conceiv'd men of Ho∣nour ought wholly to apply themselves; so it seems to me, that this Address to which we form our Limbs, those Writings and Motions young men are taught in this new School, are not on∣ly of no Use, but rather contrary and hurtful to the manner of fight in Battel: and also our Peo∣ple commonly make use of particular Weapons, and peculiarly design'd for Duel. And I have known when it has been disapprov'd, that a Gentleman challeng'd to fight with Rapier and

Poignard, should appear in the equipage of a man at Arms; or that another should take his Cloke instead of a Poignard. It is worthy of Consideration, that Lachez in Plato, speaking of learning to fence after our manner, says, that he never knew any great Souldier come out of that School, especially the Masters of it: and indeed as to them our own experience tells us as much. As to the rest, we may at least conclude, that they are Qualities of no Relation nor Corres∣pondence. And in the Education of the Chil∣dren of his Government,* 2.136 Plato interdicts the Art of Cuffing, introduc'd by Amicus and Epeius, and that of Wrestling by Antaeus and Cecyo, be∣cause they have another end than to render Youth fit for the service of War, and contribute nothing to it. But I see I am too far stray'd from any Theam. The Emperour Maurice, being ad∣vertis'd by Dreams and several Prognosticks, that one Phocas, an obscure Souldier, should kill him; question'd his Son-in-Law Philip, who this Phocas was, and what was his Nature, Qualities and Manners; and so soon as Philip, amongst other things, had told him, that he was coward∣ly and timorous, the Emperour immediately thence concluded that he was then a Murtherer and cruel.* 2.137 What is it that makes Tyrants so bloody? 'Tis only the sollicitude of their own Safety, and that their faint Hearts can furnish them with no other means of securing themselves, than in exterminating those that may hurt them, even so much as to Woman, for fear of a scratch.

Cuncta ferit, dum cuncta timet.* 2.138

He strikes at all, who every one does fear.

The first Cruelties are exercis'd for themselves: from thence springs the fear of a just Revenge, which afterwards produces a series of new Cru∣elties, to obliterate one another. Philip King of Macedon, who had so much to do with the People of Rome, agitated with the horror of so many Murthers committed by his appointment, and doubting of being able to keep himself se∣cure from so many Families, at divers times mor∣tally injur'd and offended by him; resolv'd to seize all the Children of those he had caus'd to be slain, to dispatch them daily one after another, and so to establish his own repose. Fine Dis∣courses are never impertinent however plac'd; and therefore I, who more consider the weight and utility of what I deliver than their Order and Connexion, need not fear in this place to bring in a fine story, though it be a lit∣tle by the bye; for when they are rich in their own native Beauty, and are able to justifie them∣selves, the least end of a Hair will serve to draw them into my Argument. Amongst others condemn'd by Philip, Herodicus, Prince of Thes∣saly, had been one. He had moreover after him caus'd his two Sons in Law to be put to Death, each leaving a Son very young behind him. Theoxena▪ and Archo, were their two Widows. Theoxena, though highly courted to it, could not be perswaded to marry again: Archo married

Poris, the greatest Man of the Aenians, and by him had a great many Children, which she dy∣ing, left in a very tender Age. Theoxena, mov'd with a Maternal charity towards her Nephews, that she might have them under her own Eyes, and in her own Protection, married Poris: when presently comes a Proclamation of the King's Edict. This brave spirited Mother, suspecting the cruelty of Philip, and afraid of the Insolence of the Souldiers towards these fine and tender Chil∣dren, was so bold as to declare, that she would rather kill them with her own hands than deli∣ver them. Poris, startled at this Protestation, pro∣mis'd her to steal them away, and to Transport them to Athens, and there commit them to the Custody of some faithful Friends of his. They took therefore the opportunity of an Annual Feast which was celebrated at Aenia in Honour of Aeneas, and thither they went. Having ap∣pear'd by day at the Publick Ceremonies, and Banquet, they stole the Night following into a Vessel laid ready for the purpose, to escape away by Sea. The Wind prov'd contrary, and finding themselves in the Morning within sight of the Land from whence they had launch'd over∣night, were made after by the Guards of the Port: which Poris perceiving, he labour'd all he could to make the Mariners do their utmost to escape from the Pursuers. But Theoxena, frantick with Affection and Revenge, in pursuance of her for∣mer Resolution, prepar'd both Arms and Poy∣son, and exposing them before them; Go to, my Children, said she, Death is now the only means of

your Defence and Liberty, and shall administer occasion to the Gods to exercise their sacred Justice: These sharp Swords, and these full Cups, will open you the way into it: Courage, fear nothing. And thou, my Son, who art the eldest, take this Steel into thy Hand, that thou may'st the more bravely Dye. The Children having on one side so pow∣erfull a Counsellour, and the Enemy at their Throats on the other, ran all of them eagerly upon what was next to hand; and half dead, were thrown into the Sea. Theoxena, proud of having so gloriously provided for the safety of her Children, clasping her Arms with great af∣fection about her Husband's Neck, Let us, my Friend, said she, follow these Boys, and enjoy the same Sepulchre they do: And so embrac'd, threw themselves head-long over-board into the Sea; so that the Ship was carried back empty of the Owners into the Harbour. Tyrants, at once both to kill and to make their Anger felt, have pump't their Wit to invent the most lingring Deaths. They will have their Enemies dispatch'd, but not so fast that they may not have leisure to taste their Vengeance. And therein they are mighti∣ly perplex'd, for if the Torments they inflict are violent, they are short, if long, they are not then so painful as they desire; and thus torment them∣selves in contriving how to torment others. Of this we have a thousand Examples of Antiqui∣ty, and I know not whether we unawares do not retain some traces of this Barbarity: all that ex∣ceeds a simple Death appears to me absolute Cruelty; neither can our Justice expect, that

he, whom the fear of being executed by being Beheaded or Hang'd, will not restrain, should be any more aw'd by the imagination of a lan∣guishing Fire, burning Pincers, or the Wheel. And I know not in the mean time, whether we do not throw them into despair; for in what condition can the Soul of a man, expecting four and twenty hours together to be broken upon a Wheel, or after the old way, nail'd to a Cross, be? Josephus relates, that in the time of the War the Romans made in Judea; happening to pass by where they had three days before crucified certain Jews, he amongst them knew three of his own Friends, and obtained the favour of having them taken down, of which, two he says died, the third liv'd a great while after. Chal∣condilas, a Writer of good credit, in the Records he has left behind him of things that happen'd in his time, and near him, tell us, as of the most excessive Torment, of that the Emperour Meck∣med very often practis'd, of cutting off men in the middle by the Diaphragma with one blow of a Cimeter; by which it follow'd, that they died as it were two Deaths at once, and both the one part, says he, and the other, were seen to stir and strive a great while after in very great Torment. I do not think there was any great sufferance in this motion. The Torments that are the most dreadful to look on, are not always the greatest to endure; and I find those that other Historians relate to have been pra∣ctic'd upon the Epirot Lords, to be more horrid and cruel, where they were condemn'd to be

flead alive by pieces, after so malicious a manner that they continued fifteen days in this misery. As also these other two following. Croesus, ha∣ving caus'd a Gentleman, the favourite of his Brother Pantaleon, to be seized on, carried him into a Fuller's Shop, where he caus'd him to be scratch'd and carded with the Cards and Combs belonging to that Trade till he died. George Jechel, chief Commander of the Peasants of Polonia, who committed so many Mischiefs under the Title of the Crusado, being defeated in Battel, and taken by the Vayvod of Transyl∣vania, was three days bound naked upon the Rack, exposed to all sorts of Torments that any one could contrive against him; during which time, many other Prisoners were kept fasting; in the end, he living, and looking on, they made his beloved Brother Lucat, for whom he only entreated, taking upon himself the blame of all their evil Actions, to drink his Blood, and caused twenty of his most favour'd Captains to feed upon him, tearing his flesh in pieces with their Teeth, and swallowing the morsels. The remainder of his Body and his Bowels, so soon as he was dead, were boyl'd, and others of his followers compell'd to eat them.

CHAP. XXVIII. All things have their Season.

SUch as compare Cato the Censor, with the younger Cato that kill'd himself, compare

two beautiful Natures, and much resembling one another. The first acquir'd his Reputation several ways, and excells in Military Exploits, and the Utility of his publick Vocations; but the Virtue of the younger, besides, that it were blasphemy to compare any to him in Vigour, was much more pure and unblemish'd. For who can acquit the Censor of Envy and Ambition, having dar'd to justle the Honour of Scipio, a man in Worth, Valour, and all other excellent Qualities infinitely beyond him, or any other of his time? That which they report of him, a∣mongst other things, that in his extream old Age he put himself upon learning the Greek Tongue, with so greedy an Appetite, as if to quench a long Thirst, does not seem to me to make much for his Honour; it being properly what we call being twice a Child. All things have their Sea∣son, even the best, and a man may say his Pater noster out of time; as they accused T. Quintus Flaminus, that being General of an Army, he was seen praying apart in the time of a Battel that he won.

* 2.139Imponit finem sapiens, & rebus honestis.

The wise man limits even decent things.

Eudemonidas, seeing Xenocrates when very old, still very intent upon his School-Lectures, When will this man be wise, said he, he does yet learn? And Philopaemen, to those who extoll'd King Pto∣lomy for every day inuring his Person to the Exercise of Arms; It is not, said he, commenda∣ble

in a King of his Age to exercise himself in those things he ought now really to employ them. The young are to make their Preparati∣ons, the old to enjoy them, say the Sages: and the greatest Vice they observe in us is, that our Desires incessantly grow young again: we are always re-beginning to live. Our studies and de∣sires should sometimes be sensible of Age; but we have one foot in the Grave, and yet our Ap∣petites and Pursuits spring every day new up∣on us.

Tu secanda marmora* 2.140 Locas sub ipsum funus, & sepulcri Immemor, struis domos.

When Death perhaps is near at hand,* 2.141 Thou fairest Marbles dost command Be cut for use; yet do'st neglect Thy Grave, and Houses still erect.

The longest of my Designs is not of above a years extent; I think of nothing now but ending, rid my self of all new Hopes and Enterprizes; take my last leave of every place I depart from, and every day disposses my self of what I have. Olim jam nec perit quicquam mihi, nec acquiritur:* 2.142 plus superest viatici, quam viae. Henceforward I will neither lose, nor expect to get: I have more wherewith to defray my Journey, than I have way to go.

Vixi, & quem dederat cursum fortuna peregi.* 2.143

I've liv'd, and finish'd the career Wherein my Fortune plac'd me here.

To conclude, 'tis the only comfort I find in my old Age, that it mortifies in me several Cares and Desires wherewith my Life has been distur∣bed; the Care how the World goes, the Care of Riches, of Grandeur, of Knowledge, of Health, and my self. There are, who are learn∣ing to speak at a time when they should learn to be silent for ever. A man may always study, but he must not always go to School. What a contemptible thing is an old School-boy!

Diversos diversa juvant, non omnibus annis. * 2.144Omnia conveniunt.

For several things do several men delight, And all things are not for all Ages right.

If we must study, let us study what is suitable to our present Condition, that we may answer as he did, who being ask'd to what end he stu∣died in his decrepid Age,* 2.145 that I may go out bet∣ter, said he, and at greater ease. Such a study was that of the younger Cato, feeling his end ap∣proach, and which he met with in Plato's Dis∣course of the immortality of the Soul: Not as we are to believe that he was not long before¦hand furnished with all sorts of Ammunition for such a Departure; for of assurance, an establish∣ed Will and Instruction he had more than Plato had in all his Writings; his Knowledge and Courage were in this respect above Philosophy. He applyed himself to this study, not for the Service of his Death, but as a man whose sleeps were never disturbed in the Importance of such

a deliberation, he also without choice or change, continued his Studies with the other accustoma∣ry Actions of his Life. The Night that he was den the Praetorship, he spent in play. That wherein he was to dye, he spent in reading. The loss either of Life or of Office, was all one to him.

CHAP. XXIX. Of Virtue.

I Find by experience, that there is a vast dif∣ference betwixt the starts and sallies of the Soul, and a resolute and constant habit; and very well perceive, that there is nothing we may not do, nay, even to the surpassing the Di∣vinity it self, says a certain Person, forasmuch as it is more to render a mans self impassible by his own study and industry, than to be so by his natural condition; and even to be able to conjoyn to man's imbecillity and frailty a God-like resolution and assurance. But it is by fits and starts; and in the Lives of those Heroes of Times past there are sometimes miraculous Sal∣lies, and that seem infinitely to exceed our na∣tural force, but they are indeed but sallies: and 'tis hard to believe, that in these so elevated qualities a man can so thoroughly tinct and im∣bue the Soul, that they should become constant, and as it were, natural in him. It accidentally happens even to us, who are but abortive births of men, sometimes to dart out our Souls, when

rous'd by the Discourses or Examples of others, much beyond their ordinary stretch; but 'tis a kind of Passion which does push and prick them on, and in some sort ravishes them from them∣selves: but this Whirlwind once blown over, we see that they insensibly flag, and slacken of themselves, if not to the lowest degree, at least so as to be no more the same; insomuch as that upon every trivial occasion, the losing of a Hawk, or the breaking of a Glass, we suffer our selves to be mov'd little less than one of the common People. I am of opinion, that Or∣der, Moderation, and Constancy excepted, all things are to be done by a man that is indiffe∣rent, and defective in general. Therefore it is, say the Sages, that to make a right judgment of a man, you are chiefly to pry into his common Actions, and surprize him in his every day ha∣bit. Pyrrho, he who erected so pleasant a know∣ledge upon Ignorance, endeavour'd, as all the rest who were really Philosophers did, to make his Life correspond with his Doctrine. And be∣cause he maintain'd the imbecillity of Humane Judgment to be so extreme as to be incapable of any choice or inclination, and would have it wavering and suspended, considering and re∣ceiving all things as indifferent, 'tis said, that he always comported himself after the same man∣ner and countenance: if he had begun a Dis∣course, he would always end what he had to say, though the Person he was speaking to was gone away: and if he walk'd, he never stop'd for any impediment that stood in his way, be∣ing

preserv'd from Precipices, the justle of Carts, and other like accidents, by the care of his Friends: for, to fear, or to avoid any thing, had been to justle his own Propositions, which depriv'd the Senses themselves of all certainty and election. Sometimes he suffer'd Incisions and Cauteries with so great constancy, as never to be seen so much as to winch or stir. 'Tis something to bring the Soul to these imaginati∣ons, more to joyn the effects, and yet not im∣possible; but to conjoyn them with such per∣severance and constancy as to make them habi∣tual, is certainly, in attempts so remote from the common usance, almost incredible to be done. Therefore it was, that being one day taken in his House terribly scolding with his Sister, and being reproach'd that he therein transgress'd his own Rules of indifference; What, said he, must this foolish Woman also serve for a testimony to my Rules? Another time, being seen to defend himself against a Dog, It is, said he, very hard totally to put off man; and we must endeavour and force our selves to resist and encounter things, first by Effects, but at least by Reason. About se∣ven or eight years since, a Husbandman yet li∣ving, but two Leagues from my House, having long been tormented with his Wifes Jealousie, coming one day home from his work, and she welcoming him with her accustomed railing, en∣tred into so great fury, that with a Sickle he had yet in his hand he totally cut off all those Parts that she was jealous of, and threw them in her face. And, 'tis said, that a young Gen∣tleman

of our Nation, brisk and amorous, ha∣ving by his perseverance at last mollified the heart of a fair Mistress, enrag'd, that upon the point of fruition he found himself unable to per∣form, and that,

* 2.146non viriliter Iners senile penis extulerat caput,

so soon as ever he came home he depriv'd him∣self of it, and sent it his Mistriss, a cruel and bloody Victim for the expiation of his offence. If this had been done upon mature consideration, and upon the account of Religion, as the Priests of Cybele did, what should we say of so high an action? A few dayes since, at Bergerac, within five Leagues of my House, up the River Dor∣dogne, a Woman having over-night been beaten and abus'd by her Husband, a cholerick ill-con∣dition'd fellow, resolv'd to escape from his ill usage at the price of her life; and going so soon as she was up the next morning to visit her Neighbours, as she was wont to do, and having let some words fall of the recommenda∣tion of her Affairs, she took a Sister of hers by the hand, and led her to the Bridge; whither being come, as it were in jest, without any manner of alteration in her Countenance, there taking leave of her, she threw her self headlong from the top into the River, and was there drown'd. That which is the most remarkable in this, is, that this resolution was a whole night forming in her head: But it is quite another thing with the Indian Women, for it being the

custom there for the men to have many Wives, and the best beloved of them to kill her self at her Husband's decease, every one of them makes it the Business of her whole Life to obtain this Priviledge, and gain this Advantage over her Companions, and the good Offices they do their Husband's, aim at no other Recompence, but to be preferr'd in accompanying him in Death.

Vbi mortifero jacta est fax ultima lecto,* 2.147 Vxorum fusis stat pia turba comis: Et certamen habent lethi quae viva sequatur Conjugium, pudor est non licuisse mori, Ardent victrices, & flammae pectora praebent, Imponuntque suis ora perusta viris.

When to the pile they throw the kindling brand The pious Wives with Hair dishevell'd stand, Striving which living shall accompany Her Spouse, and are asham'd they may not dye, Who are preferr'd, their Breasts to flame expose, And their scorch'd Lips to their dead Husbands close.

A certain Author of our times, Reports, that he has seen in those Oriental Nations this Cu∣stom in practice, that not only the Wives bury themselves with their Husbands, but even the Slaves he has enjoyed also; which is done af∣ter this manner: The Husband being dead, the Widow may if she will (but few will) demand two or three Months respite wherein to order her Affairs. The day being come, she mounts on

Horse-back, dress'd as fine as at her Wedding, and with a cheerful Countenance says, she is go∣ing to sleep with her Spouse, holding a Look∣ing-glass in her left hand, and an Arrow in the other. Being thus conducted in pomp, accompa∣nied with her Kindred and Friends, and a great concourse of People, with great Joy, she is at last brought to the publick Place appointed for such Spectacles: This is a spacious Place, in the midst of which is a Pit full of Wood, and ad∣joyning to it a Mount raised four or five steps, upon which she is brought and served with a magnificent Repast; which being done, she falls to Dancing and Singing, and gives order when she thinks fit to kindle the Fire; which being perform'd, she Descends, and taking the nearest of her Husband's Relations by the hand, they walk together to the River close by, where she strips her self stark naked, and having distribu∣ted her Clothes and Jewels to her Friends, plunges her self into the Water, as if there to cleanse her self from her Sins; comming out thence, she wraps her self in a yellow Linnen of five and twenty Ells long, and again giving her hand to this Kinsman of her Husband's, they return back to the Mount, where she makes a Speech to the People, and recommends her Children to them, if she have any. Betwixt the Pit and the Mount, there is commonly a Curtain drawn to skreen the burning Furnace from their sight, which some of them to manifest the greater Courage, forbid. Ha∣ving ended what she has to say, a Woman presents her with a Vessel of Oil, wherewith to anoint

her head, and her whole Body; which having done with, she throws into the Fire, and in an instant precipitates her self after. Imediate∣ly the People throw a great many Billets and Logs upon her, that she may not be long in dy∣ing, and convert all their Joy into Sorrow and Mourning. If they are Persons of meaner Con∣dition, the Body of the defunct is carried to the place of Sepulture, and there plac'd sitting, the Widdow kneeling before him, embracing the dead Body; and continue in this posture whilst they build a Wall about them, which so soon as it is raised to the height of the Womans Shoul∣ders, some of her Relations comes behind her, and taking hold of her Head writhe her Neck in two, and so soon as she is dead, the Wall is presently rais'd up, and clos'd, where they re∣main entomb'd. There was in this same Country something like this in their Gymnosophist;* 2.148 for not by constraint of others, nor by the impetu∣osity of a sudden humour, but by the express Profession of their Order, their Custom was, that so soon as they arriv'd at a certain Age, or that they saw themselves threatned by any Disease, to cause a funeral Pile to be erected for them, and on the top a stately Bed, where, after ha∣ving joyfully feasted their Friends and Acquain∣tance, they laid them down with so great Re∣solution, that Fire being apply'd to it, they were never seen to stir either Hand or Foot; and af∣ter this manner one of them, Calanus by Name, expir'd in the presence of the whole Army of Alexander the Great; and he was neither re∣puted

holy, nor happy amongst them, that did not thus destroy himself; dismissing his Soul purg'd and purified by the Fire, after having consum'd all that was earthy and mortal. This constant premeditation of the whole Life is that which makes the wonder. Amongst our other Controversies, that of Fatum is also crept in, and to tye things to come, and even our own Wills to a certain and inevitable Necessity, we are yet upon this Argument of time past; Since God foresees that all things shall so fall out, as doubtless he does, it must then necessarily follow, that they must so fall out: to which our Ma∣sters reply, that the seeing any thing come to pass, as we do, and as God himself also does, (for all things being present with him, he rather sees, than foresees) is not to compell an Event: that is, we see because things do fall out, but things do not fall out because we see. Events cause Knowledge, but Knowledge does not cause Events. That which we see happen, does happen; but it might have hap∣ned otherwise: and God, in the Catalogue of the Causes of Events which he has in his Prescience, has also those which we call accidental and unvolunta∣ry,* 2.149 which depend upon the Liberty he has given our free Will, and knows that we do amiss because we would do so. I have seen a great many Comman∣ders encourage their Souldiers with this fatal Necessity;* 2.150 for if our time be limited to a cer∣tain hour, neither the Enemies shot, nor our own Boldness, nor our Flight and Cowardize, can either shorten or prolong our Lives. This is easily said, but see who will be so perswaded,

and if it be so that a strong and lively Faith draws along with it Actions of the same, cer∣tainly this Faith we so much brag of, is very light in this Age of ours, unless the Contempt it has of Works, makes it disdain their Company. So it is, that to this very purpose the Sire de Joinville, as credible a Witness as any other whatever, tells us of the Bedoins, a Nation amongst the Saracens, with whom the King St. Lewis had to do in the Holy-land, that they in their Religion, did so firmly believe the number of every mans days to be from all eter∣nity prefix'd, and set down by an inevitable Decree, that they went naked to the Wars, ex∣cepting a Turkish Sword, and their Bodies on∣ly cover'd with a white Linnen Cloth: and for the greatest Curse they could invent when they were angry, this was always in their Mouths, Accursed be thou, as he that arms himself for fear of Death. This is a Testimony of Faith very much beyond ours. And of this sort is that al∣so that two Religious men of Florence gave in our Fathers days. Being engag'd in some Con∣troversie of Learning, they agreed to go both of them into the Fire in the sight of all the People, each for the verification of his Argument, and all things were already prepar'd, and the things just upon the point of Execution, when it was interrupted by an unexpected accident. A young Turkish Lord, having perform'd a notable Exploit in his own Person in the sight of both Armies, that of Amurath, and that of Hunniades ready to joyn Battel, being ask'd by Amurath, who in so

tender and unexperienc'd years (for it was his first sally into Arms) had inspir'd him with so brave a Courage, reply'd, that his chief Tutor for Valour was a Hare. For being, said he, one day a hunting, I found a Hare sitting, and though I had a brace of excellent Grey-hounds with me, yet methought it would be best for sureness to make use of my Bow; for she sat very fair. I then fell to letting fly my Arrows, and shot for∣ty that I had in my Quiver, not only without hurting, but without starting her from her form. At last I slipt my Dogs after her, but to no more purpose than I had shot: by which I understood, that she had been secur'd by her Destiny; and that neither Darts nor Swords can wound with∣out the permission of Fate, which we can nei∣ther hasten nor defer. This Story which I am going to tell, may serve by the way to let us see how flexible our Reason is to all sorts of Images. A Person of great Years, Name, Dig∣nity, and Learning, boasted to me to have been induc'd to a certain very important mutation in his Faith, by a strange, whimsical Incitation, and otherwise so very ill concluding, that I thought it much stronger being taken the con∣trary way: He call'd it a Miracle, I look upon it quite otherwise. The Turkish Historians say, that the perswasion those of their Nation have im∣printed in them of the fatal and unalterable Prescription of their Days, does manifestly con∣duce to the giving them great assurance in Dangers; and I know a great Prince, who makes very fortunate use of it; whether it be that he

does really believe it, or that he makes it his excuse, for so wonderfully hazarding himself, provided Fortune be not too soon weary of her Favour to him. There has not happened in our memory a more admirable effect of Resolution, than in those two who conspir'd the Death of the Prince of Orange. 'Tis to be wonder'd at,* 2.151 how the second that executed it, could ever be persuaded into an attempt, wherein his Compa∣nion, who had done his utmost, had had so ill Success; and after the same Method, and with the same Arms, to go attaque a Lord, arm'd with a late Instruction of distrust, powerful in followers and bodily Strength, in his own Hall, amidst his Guards, and in a City wholly at his Devotion. He doubtless employ'd a very resolute Arm and a Courage enflam'd with furious Passions: A Poignard is surer for striking home, but by rea∣son that more motion and force of hand is re∣quired than with a Pistol, the Blow is more sub∣ject to be put by or hindred. That this man did not run to a certain Death, I make no great doubt; for the hopes any one could flatter him withall, could not find place in any sober Un∣derstanding, and the Conduct of his Exploit does sufficiently manifest that he had no want of that no more than of Courage. The motives of so powerful a Perswasion may be divers, for our fancy does what it will both with it self and us.* 2.152 The Execution that was done near Or∣leans was nothing like this, there was in that more of Chance than Vigour, the wound was not mortal, if Fortune had not made it so;

and to attempt to shoot on Horse-back, and at a great distance, and at one whose body was in motion by the moving of his Horse, was the attempt of a man who had rather miss his blow, than fail of saving himself: as was apparent by what followed after; for he was so astonish'd and stupified with the thought of so high an Execution, that he totally lost his Judgment both to find his way and to govern his Tongue. What needed he to have done more than to fly back to his Friends cross a River? 'Tis what I have done in less Dangers, and that I think of very little hazard, how broad soever the River may be, provided your Horse have good going in, and that you see on the other side easie land∣ing according to the stream. The other, when they pronounc'd his dreadful Sentence. I was prepar'd for this, said he, before-hand, and I will make you wonder at my Patience. The Assassins, a Nation bordering upon Phaenicia, are reputed amongst the Mahometans a People of very great Devotion, and purity of Manners. They hold that the nearest way to gain Paradise is to kill some one of a contrary Religion; which is the Reason they have often been seen, being but one or two, and without Arms, to attempt against powerful Enemies at the price of a certain Death, and without any Consideration of their own Danger. So was our Count Raimond of Tripoly assassinated (which Word is deriv'd from their Name) in the heart of his City, during our En∣terprizes of the Holy War. And likewise Con∣rade, Marquis of Montferrat, the Murtherers at

their Execution carrying themselves with great Pride and Glory, that they had perform'd so brave an Exploit.

CHAP. XXX. Of a monstrous Child.

THis Story shall go by it self; for I will leave it to Physicians to Discourse of. Two days ago I saw a Child, that two Men and a Nurse, who said themselves to be the Father, the Uncle, and the Aunt of it, carried about to get money by shewing it, by reason it was so strange a Creature. It was, as to all the rest of a common Form, and could stand upon its Feet, could go and gabble much like other Children of the same Age; it had never as yet taken any other nourishment but from the Nur∣ses Breasts, and what, in my Presence, they tried to put into the Mouth of it, it only chew'd a little and spit it out again without swallowing; the Cry of it seem'd indeed a little odd and par∣ticular, and it was just fourteen Months old. Under the Breast it was joyned to another Child, but without a Head, and that had the spine of the Back without motion, the rest entire; for though it had one Arm shorter than the other, it had been broken by accident at their Birth; they were joyn'd Breast to Breast, and as if a lesser Ghild would reach the Arms about the Neck of one something bigger. The juncture

and thickness of the place where they were con∣joyn'd was not above four Fingers, or therea∣bouts, so that if you thrust up the imperfect Child you might see the Navel of the other be∣low it, and the joyning was betwixt the Paps and the Navel. The Navel of the imperfect Child could not be seen, but all the rest of the Belly; so that all the rest that was not joyn'd of the imperfect one, as Arms, Buttocks, Thighs and Legs, hung dangling upon the other, and might reach to the Mid-leg. The Nurse more∣over told us that it urin'd at both Bodies, and al∣so the members of the other were nourish'd, sen∣sible, and in the same plight with that she gave suck to, excepting that they were shorter, and less. This double Body, and several Limbs rela∣ting to one Head, might be interpreted a favou∣rable Prognostick to the King, of maintaining these various Parts of our State under the union of his Laws; but lest the Event should prove o∣therwise, 'tis better to let it alone, for in things already past,* 2.153 there needs no Divination; Vt quum facta sunt, tum ad conjecturam aliqua inter∣pretatione revocantur. So as when they are come to pass, they should then by some Interpretation be re∣call'd to Conjecture. As 'tis said of Epimenides, that he always Prophesied of things past. I have lately seen a Heards-man in Medoc of about thir∣ty years of Age, who has no sign of any Genital Parts; he has three holes by which he incessant∣ly voids his Water, he is Bearded, has desire, and covets the society of Women. Those that we call Monsters, are not so to God, who sees

in the Immensity of his Work, the infinite Forms that he has comprehended therein. And it is to be believed, that this Figure which does astonish us, has relation to some other Figure of the same kind unknown to man. From his all Wis∣dom nothing but good, common, and regular proceeds; but we do not discern the Disposi∣tion and Relation. Quod crebro videt,* 2.154 non mira∣tur, etiamsi, cur fiat nescit. Quod antè non videt, id, si evenerit, ostentum esse censet. What he often sees he does not admire, though he be ignorant how it comes to pass. But when a thing happens he ne∣ver saw before, that he looks upon as a Portent. Whatever falls out contrary to Custom, we say is contrary to Nature, but nothing, whatever it be, is contrary to her. Let therefore this uni∣versal and natural Reason expell the Errour and Astonishment that Novelty brings along with it.

CHAP. XXXI. Of Anger.

PLutarch is admirable throughout; but espe∣cially where he judges of humane Actions; the fine things he says, in comparison of Lycur∣gus and Numa, upon the Subject of our great Folly in abandoning Children to the Care and Government of their Fathers, are very easily discern'd. The most of our Civil Governments, as Aristotle says, leave, after the manner of the

Cyclops, to every one the ordering of their Wives and Children, according to their own foolish and indiscreet Fancy; and the Lacedemonian and Cretensian are almost the only Governments that have committed the Education of Children to the Laws. And who does not see that in a State all depends upon their nurture and bring∣ing up? and yet they are left to the Mercy of Parents, let them be as foolish and ill natur'd as they will, without any manner of Discretion. Amongst other things, how oft have I, as I have past along the Streets, had a good mind to make a farce, to revenge the poor Boys whom I have seen flead, knock'd down, and miserably abus'd by some Father or Mother when in their Fury, and mad with Rage? You shall see them come out with Fire and Fury sparkling in their Eyes,

* 2.155— rabie jecur incendente feruntur Praecipites, ut saxa jugis abruta, quibus mons Subtrahitur, clivoque latus pendente recedit.

With burning Fury they are headlong borne As when great Stones are from the Mountains torn, By which the Clifts depriv'd and lessen'd are, And their steep sides are naked left, and bare.

(and according to Hippocrates the most dange∣rous Maladies are they, that disfigure the Coun∣tenance) with a roaring and terrible Voice very often against those that are but newly come from Nurse, and there they are lam'd and spoil'd with blows, whilst our Justice takes no Cogni∣zance

of it; as if these maims and dislocations were not executed upon Members of our Com∣mon-wealth.

Gratum est quod patriae civem, populoque dedisti,* 2.156 Si facis ut Patriae sit idoneus, utilis agris, Vtilis, & bellorum & pacis rebus agendis.

It is a Gift most acceptable, when Thou to thy Country giv'st a Citizen, Provided thou hast had the knack of it To make him for his Countries Service fit, Useful t'assist the Earth in her increase, And useful in Affairs of War and Peace.

There is no Passion that so much transports men from their right Judgments, as Anger. No one would demurr upon punishing a Judge with Death who should condemn a Criminal upon the account of his own Choler; why then should Fathers and Pedants be any more allow'd to whip and chastise Children in their Anger? 'Tis then no longer Correction but Revenge. Chastisement is instead of Physick to Children; and should we suffer a Physician, who should be animated against and enrag'd at his Patient? We our selves, to do well, should never lay a Hand up∣on our Servants whilst our Anger lasts: whilst the Pulse beats, and that we feel an Emotion in our selves, let us defer the Business; things will indeed appear otherwise to us when we are calm and cool. 'Tis then Passion that commands, 'tis then Passion that speaks, and not we. Faults seen through Passion are magnified, and appear

much greater to us than they really are, as Bodies do being seen through a Mist. Who is hungry uses Meat, but he that will make use of Corre∣ction should have no appetite neither of Hunger or Thirst to it. And moreover, Chastisements that are inflicted with weight and discretion, are much better receiv'd, and with greater be∣nefit by him who suffers. Otherwise he will not think himself justly condemn'd by a man transported with anger and fury, and will al∣ledge his Master's excessive Passion, his inflam'd Countenance, his unwonted Oaths, his Emoti∣on and precipitous Rashness, for his own justifi∣cation.

* 2.157Ora tument ira, nigrescunt sanguine venae, Lumina Gorgonio▪ saevius igne micant.

Their Faces swell, and Veins grow black with ire, And their Eyes sparkle with Gorgonian Fire.

Suetonius reports, that Caius Rabirius having been condemn'd by Caesar, the thing that most prevail'd upon the People (to whom he had ap∣peal'd) to determine the Cause in his favour, was, the animosity and vehemency that Caesar had manifested in that Sentence. Saying is one thing and Doing is another; we are distinctly to con∣sider the Sermon and the Preacher. These men took a pretty Business in hand, who in our Times have attempted to shake the Truth of our Church by the Vices of her Ministers; she extracts her Testimony elsewhere. 'Tis a foolish way of Ar∣guing, and that would throw all things into

confusion. A man whose Manners are good, may have false Opinions, and wicked men may preach Truth, nay, though he believe it not himself. 'Tis doubtless a fine Harmony when doing and saying go together; and I will not deny but that Saying, when the Actions follow, are of great∣er Authority and Efficacy, as Eudamidas said, hearing a Philosopher talk of Military Affairs; These things are finely said, but he that speaks them is not to be believed, for his Ears have never been used to the sound of the Trumpet. And Cleomenes, hearing an Orator declaming upon Valour, burst out into Laughter, at which the other being an∣gry, I should, said he to him, do the same if it were a Swallow that spoke of this subject, but if it were an Eagle I should willingly hear him. I per∣ceive, methinks, in the Writing of the Ancients, that he who speaks what he thinks, strikes much more home than he that only dissembles. Hear but Cicero speak of the love of Liberty: Hear Brutus speak of it, his very writings sound that this man would purchace it at the price of his Life. Let Cicero, the Father of Eloquence, treat of the contempt of Death, and let Seneca do the same; the first does languishingly drawl it out, so that you perceive he would make you resolve upon a thing on which he is not resolv'd him∣self. He inspires you not with Courage,* 2.158 for he himself has none; the other animates and enflames you. I never read Author, even of those who treat of Virtue, and of Actions, that I do not curiously examine what a kind of man he was himself. For the Ephori at Sparta, seeing a

dissolute Fellow propose a wholesome advice to the People, commanded him to hold his peace, and intreated a virtuous man to attribute to himself the Invention, and to propose it. Plu∣tarch's Writings, if well understood, sufficiently speak their Author; and so that I think I know him even into his Soul, and yet I could wish that we had some fuller account of his Life: and am thus far wandred from my Subject, upon the account of the Obligation I have to Aulus Gel∣lius, for having left us in Writing this Story of his Manners, that brings me back to my Subject of Anger.* 2.159 A Slave of his, a vicious, ill conditi∣on'd Fellow, but that had had the Precepts of Philosophy often ringing in his Ears, having for some Offence of his been stript by Plutarch's Command, whilst he was whipping, mutter'd at first, that it was without cause, and that he had done nothing to deserve it; but at last falling in good earnest to exclaim against, and to rail at his Master, he reproach'd him, that he was no Philosopher, as he had boasted himself to be: that he had often heard him say it was indecent to be angry, nay, had writ a Book to that pur∣pose; and that the causing him to be so cruelly beaten in the height of his Rage, totally gave the Lye to all his Writings. To which Plutarch calmly and coldly answer'd, How, Ruffian, said he, By what dost thou judge that I am now angry, does either my Face, my Colour, or my Voice give any manifestation of my being mov'd? I do not think my Eyes look fierce, that my Countenance appears troubled, or that my Voice is dreadful; am I red,

do I foam, does any Word escape my Lips I ought to repent? Do I start? Do I tremble with Fury? For those I tell thee are the true signs of Anger. And so turning to the Fellow that was whipping him, Ply on thy Work, said he, whilst this Gentle∣man and I dispute. This is the Story.

Archytas Tarentinus, returning from a War wherein he had been Captain General, found all things in his House in very great disorder, and his Lands quite out of Tillage, through the ill Husbandry of his Receiver, whom having caus'd to be call'd to him, Go, said he, if I were not in Anger, I would soundly drubb your sides. Plato likewise being highly offended with one of his Slaves, gave Speusippus order to chastize him,* 2.160 excusing himself from doing it because he was in Anger. And Carillus, a Lacedemonian, to a Helot, who carried himself so insolently and au∣daciously towards him; By the Gods, said he, if I was not angry, I would immediately cause thee to be put to Death. 'Tis a Passion that is pleas'd with, and flatters it self. How oft, being mov'd under a false cause, if the Person offending makes a good Defence, and presents us with a just ex∣cuse, are we vext at Truth and Innocence it self? In proof of which, I remember a marvellous Ex∣ample of Antiquity. Piso, otherwise a Man of very eminent Virtue, being mov'd against a Soul∣dier of his, for that returning alone from Forrage, he could give him no account where he had left a Companion of his, took it for granted, that he had kill'd him, and presently condemn'd him to Death. He was no sooner mounted upon the

Gibbet, but behold his wandring Companion arrives, at which all the Army were exceedingly glad, and after many embraces of the two Com∣rades, the Hangman carried both the one and the other into Piso's Presence, all the Assistants believing it would be a great Pleasure even to him himself; but it prov'd quite contrary; for through shame and spite, his Fury, which was not yet cool, redoubled; and by a subtlety which his Passion suddenly suggested to him, he made three Criminal for having found one innocent, and caus'd them all to be dispatch'd: The first Souldier, because Sentence had pass'd upon him; The second, who had lost his way, because he was the Cause of his Companions Death; and the Hangman, for not having obey'd the Order bad been given him. Such as have had to do with testy and obstinate Women, may have experi∣mented into what a Rage it puts them, to oppose Silence and Coldness to their Fury, and that a man disdains to nourish their Anger. The Ora∣tor Celius was wonderfully cholerick by Nature, and to one who sup't in his Company, a man of a gentle and sweet Conversation, and who, that he might not move him, approv'd and consented to all he said; he, impatient that his ill Humour should thus spend it self without aliment; For the love of the Gods deny me something, said he, that we may be two. Women in like manner are only angry, that others may be angry again, in imitation of the Laws of Love. Phocion, to one that interrupted his speaking by injurious and very opprobrious Words, made no other return

than silence, and to give him full liberty and leisure to vent his spleen; which he having ac∣cordingly done, and the storm blown over, without any mention of this disturbance, he pro∣ceeded in his Discourse where he had left off before. No answer can nettle a man like such a Contempt. Of the most cholerick man in France, (anger is always an imperfection, but more ex∣cusable in a Souldier, for in that trade it can∣not sometimes be avoided) I must needs say, that he is often the most patient man that I know, and the most discreet in bridling his Passions; which rises in him with so great Violence and Fury,

—magno veluti cum flamma sonore Virgea suggeritur costis undantis aheni,* 2.161 Exultanque aestu latices, furit intus aquai. Fumidus, atque altè spumis exuberat amnis, Nec jam se capit unda, volat vapor ater ad auras.

As when into the boyling Caldron's side A crackling flame of Brush-wood is apply'd, The bubbling Liquor there like springs are seen To swell, and foam to higher Tides within, Untill it does to overflowing rise, And a fuliginous Vapour upward flies.

that he must of necessity cruelly constrain him∣self to moderate it; and for my part, I know no Passion which I could with so much Violence to my self attempt to cover and conceal. I would not set Wisdom at so high a price; and do not so much consider what he does, as how much it costs him to do no worse. Another boasted

himself to me of the regularity and sweetness of his Manners, which is in truth very singular; to whom I replyed, that it was indeed some∣thing, especially in Persons of so eminent Qua∣lity as himself, upon whom every one had their Eyes, to present himself always well-temper'd to the World; but that the principal thing was to make Provision for within, and for himself; and that it was not, in my Opinion, very well to order his Business inwardly to grate himself, which I was affraid he did, in putting on and outwardly maintaining the visor and regular Appearance. A man incorporates Anger by con∣cealing it, as Diogenes told Demosthenes, who, for fear of being seen in a Tavern, withdrew him∣self into it. The more you retire, the farther you enter in. I would rather advise that a man should give his Servant a box of the Ear a little unseasonably, than wrack his Fancy to represent this grave and compos'd Countenance; and had rather discover my Passions than brood over them at my own expence; they grow less in ven∣ting and manifesting themselves; and 'tis much better their point should wound others without than be turn'd towards our selves within. Om∣nia vitia in aperto leviora sunt:* 2.162 & tunc pernicio∣sissima, quum simulata sanitate subsidunt. All Vices are less dangerous when open to be seen, and then most pernicious when they lurk under a dissembled Temper. I admonish all those who have authority to be angry in my Family, in the first place to manage their Anger, and not to lavish it upon every occasion, for that both lessens the value,

and hinders the Effect. Rash and customary cha∣fing runs into Custom, and renders it self de∣spis'd; and that you lay out upon a Servant for a Theft, is not felt, because it is the same he has seen you a hundred times employ against him for having ill wash'd a Glass, or set a Stool out of order. Secondly, that they are not angry to no purpose, but make sure that their Reprehension reach him at whom they are offended; for or∣dinarily they rail and bawl before he comes in∣to their Presence, and continue scolding an Age after he is gone;

Et secum petulans amentia certat:* 2.163

And petulant madness with it self contends.

they attack his shadow, and push the storm in place where no one is either chastised or inte∣rested, but in the clamour of their Voice. I like∣wise in Quarrels condemn those who huff and vapour without an Enemy: those Rodomontades are to be reserv'd to discharge upon the offend∣ing Party.

Mugitus veluti cum prima in praelia taurus Terrificos ciet, atque irasci in cornua tentat,* 2.164 Arboris obnixus trunco, ventosque lacessit Ictibus, & sparsa ad pugnam proludit arena.

Like angry Bulls that make the Valleys ring, Prest to the fight, with dreadful bellowing, Whetting their Horns against the sturdy Oak, Who with their kicking Heels the winds pro∣voke,

And tossing up the Earth, a Dust do raise For furious preludes to ensuing frays.

When I am angry, my Anger is very sharp, but withall very short,* 2.165 and as private as I can; I lose my self indeed in Promptness and Violence, but not in Trouble, so that I throw out all sorts of injurious words at random, and without choice, and never consider pertinently to dart my Lan∣guage where I think it will deepest wound, for I commonly make use of no other Weapon in my Anger than my Tongue. My Servants have a better bargain of me in great Occasions than in little, the little ones surprize me; and the mischief on't is, that when you are once upon the Precipice, 'tis no matter who gave you the push, for you always go to the bottom; the fall urges, moves, and makes haste of it self. In great Occasions this satisfies me, that they are so just every one expects a warrantable Indignation, and then I glorifie my self in deceiving their Ex∣pectation; against these, I fortifie and prepare my self, they disturb my Head, and threaten to transport me very far, should I follow them. I can easily contain my self from entring into one of these Passions, and am strong enough when I expect them, to repell their Violence, be the Cause never so great; but if a Passion once pre∣possess and seize me, it carries me away, be it ne∣ver so small: which makes me indent with those who may contend me, when you see me first moved, let me alone, right or wrong, I'll do the same for you. The storm is only begot by a con∣currence

of Angers, which easily spring from one another, and are not born together. Let every one have his own way, and we shall be always at Peace. A profitable Advice, but hard to exe∣cute. Sometimes also it falls out, that I put on a seeming Anger, for the better governing of my House, without any real Emotion▪ As Age ren∣ders my Humours more sharp, I study to oppose them, and will, if I can, order it so, that for the Future I may be so much the less peevish and hard to please, as I have more excuse and incli∣nation to be so, although I have heretofore been reckoned amongst those that have the greatest Patience. A Word more to conclude this Chap∣ter. Aristotle says, that Anger sometimes serves for Arms to Virtue and Valour. 'Tis likely it may be so, nevertheless, they who contradict him plea∣santly Answer, that 'tis a Weapon of novel Use, for we move all other Arms, this moves us, our Hands guide it not, 'tis it that guides our Hands, it holds us, we hold not it.

CHAP. XXXII. Defence of Seneca and Plutarch.

THE familiarity I have had with these two Authors, and the assistance they have lent to my Age, and Book, wholly compil'd of what I have borrowed from them, obliges me to es∣pouse their Quarrel, and to stand up for their Honour. As to Seneca, amongst a million of little

Pamphlets that those of the Reformed Religion disperse abroad for the defence of their Cause; (and which sometimes proceeds from so good a Hand, that 'tis pitty his Pen is not employ'd in a better Subject) I have formerly seen one, that to make up the Parallel he would fain find out betwixt the Government of our late poor King Charles the Ninth, and that of Nero, compares the late Cardinal of Lorrain with Seneca, their Fortunes to have both of them been the prime Ministers in the Goverment of their Princes, and their Manners, Conditions, and Deport∣ments to have been very near alike: Wherein, in my Opinion, he does the said Cardinal a very great Honour; for though I am one of those who have a very great esteem for his Wit, Eloquence, and Zeal to Religion, and the Service of his King, and think it was a happi∣ness in an Age wherein he was so new, so rare, and also so necessary for the Publick, to have an Ecclesiastical Person, of so high Birth and Dignity, and so sufficient and ca∣pable of his Place; yet to confess the Truth, I do not think his Capacity by many de∣grees near to the other, nor his Virtue ei∣ther so clean, entire, or steady, as that of Seneca. Now the Book whereof I speak, to bring about his design, gives a very injurious Description of Seneca, having borrowed his Reproaches from Dion the Historian, whose Testimony I do not at all believe. For be∣sides that, he is inconstant, who after having call'd Seneca one while very wise, and again

a mortal enemy to Nero's Vices, makes him elsewhere Avaricious, an Usurer, Ambitious, Effeminate, Voluptuous, and a false Preten∣der to Philosophy; his own Virtue does ap∣pear so lively and vigorous in his Writings, and his Vindication is so clear from any of these im∣putations of Riches, and any extraordinary ex∣pensive way of living, that I cannot believe any Testimony to the contrary. And besides, it is much more reasonable to believe the Roman Historians in such things, than Greeks and Stran∣gers. Now Tacitus and the rest speak very ho∣nourably both of his Life and Death; and re∣present him to us a very excellent and virtu∣ous Person in all things; and I will alledge no other Reproach against Dion's Report but this, which I cannot avoid, namely, that he has so sickly a Judgment in the Roman Affairs, that he dares to maintain Julius Caesars Cause against Pompey, and that of Anthony against Cicero. Let us now come to Plutarch;* 2.166 John Bodinus is a good Author of our times, and a Writer of much greater Judgment than the rout of Scrib∣lers of his Age, and that deserves to be care∣fully read and consider'd. I find him though a little bold in this passage of his Method of Hi∣story, where he accuses Plutarch not only of ig∣norance (wherein I would have let him alone: for that is above my reprehension) but that he oft writes things incredible, and absolutely fabulous, which are his own Words. If he had simply said, that he had deliver'd things otherwise than they really are, it had been no great reproach; for

what we have not seen, we are forc'd to receive from other hands, and take upon trust, and I see he purposely sometimes variously relates the same Story, as the Judgment of the three best Cap∣tains that ever were, given by Hannibal; 'tis one way in the Life of Flaminius, and another in that of Pyrrhus. But to charge him with having taken incredible and impossible things for cur∣rent pay, is to accuse the most judicious Author in the World of want of Judgment. And this is his Example; as, says he, when he relates that a Lacedemonian Boy suffer'd his Bowels to be torn out by a Fox-cub he had stoln,* 2.167 and kept it still conceal'd under his Coat till he fell down dead, rather than he would discover his theft. I find in this first place this Example ill chosen, forasmuch as it is very hard to limit the Pow∣er of the Faculties of the Soul, whereas we have better. Authority to limit, and know the force of the bodily Limbs; and therefore, if I had been as he, I should rather have chosen an Example of this second sort; and there are that are less credible: and amongst others, that which he relates of Pyrrhus, that all wounded as he was, he struck one of his Enemies who was arm'd from Head to Foot, so great a blow with his Sword, that he clave him down from his Crown to his seat, so that the Body was divided into two parts. In this Exam∣ple I find no great Miracle, nor do not admit of the Salvo with which he excuses Plutarch, to have added this Word (as 'tis said) to suspend our Belief; for unless it be in things received

by Authority, and the reverence to Antiquity or Religion, he would never have himself admit∣ted, or enjoyned us things incredible in them∣selves to believe; and that this Word (as 'tis said) is not put in this place to that effect, is easie to be seen, because he elsewhere relates to us, upon this Subject, of the Patience of the Lacedaemonian Children,* 2.168 Examples happening in his Time, more unlikely to prevail upon our Faith; as what Cicero also has testified before him, as having, as he says, been upon the Place: that even to their Times there were Children found, who, in the tryal of Patience they were put to before the Altar of Diana, suffered them∣selves to be there whip'd till the Blood run down all over their Bodies, not only without crying out, but without so much as a Groan, and some till they there voluntarily lost their Lives: and that which Plutarch also, amongst an hundred other Witnesses, relates, that at a Sacrifice, a bur∣ning Coal being fall'n into the sleeve of a Lace∣daemonian Boy, as he was censing, he suffered his whole Arm to be burn'd, till the smell of the broyling flesh was perceiv'd by the Assistants. There was nothing, according to their Custom, wherein their Reputation was more concerned, nor for which they were to undergo more blame and disgrace, than in being taken in Theft.* 2.169 I am so fully satisfied of the greatness of those Peo∣ples Courage, that his story does not only not appear to me, as to Bodinus, incredible; but I do not find it so much as rare and strange. The Spartan History is full of a thousand more cruel

and rare examples; and is indeed all Miracles in Comparison of this.* 2.170 Marcellinus, concerning theft reports, that in his time there was no sort of Torments which could compell the Egyptians, when taken in the manner, though a People ve∣ry much addicted to it, so much as to tell their Name.* 2.171 A Spanish Peasant, being put to the Wrack about the Accomplices of the murder of the Pretor Lucius Piso, cried out in the height of the Torment, that his Friends should not leave him, but look on in all assurance, and that no Pain had the Power to force from him one word of Confession, which was all they could get the first day: the next day, as they were leading him a second time to another Tryal, strongly disengaging himself from the Hands of his Guards, he furiously run his Head against a Wall,* 2.172 and beat out his Brains. Epicharis, having tir'd and glutted the Cruelty of Nero's Yeomen of the Guard, and undergone their Fire, their beating, and their Engines a whole day together without one Syllable of Confession of her Con∣spiracy; being the next day brought again to the Wrack, with her Limbs almost torn to pieces, conveyed the Lace of her Robe with a running noose over one of the Arms of her Chair, and suddenly slipping her Head into it, with the weight of her own Body hang'd herself: who having the Courage to dye after that manner, is it not to be presum'd that she purposely lent her Life to the Tryal of her Fortitude the day before, to mock the Tyrant, and encourage others to the like attempt? And whoever will enquire

of our Argoulets of the Experiences they have had in our Civil-Wars,* 2.173 will find effects of Pati∣ence and Obstinacy in this miserable Age of ours, and amongst the soft and effeminate Rabble, wor∣thy to be compar'd with those we have now re∣lated of the Spartan Virtue. I know there have been simple Peasants amongst us, who have en∣dur'd the Soles of their Feet to be broil'd upon a Grid-iron, their Fingers-ends to be writhen off with the Cock of a Pistol, and their bloody Eyes squeez'd out of their Heads by force of a Cord twisted about their Brows, before they would so much as consent to ransom. I have seen one left stark naked for dead in a Ditch, his Neck black and swell'd, with a Halter yet about it, with which they had drag'd him all Night at a Horses Tail, his Body wounded in a hundred Places, with stabs of Daggers had been given him, not to kill him, but to put him to Pain, and to affright him: who had endur'd all this, and even to being speechless and insensible, resolv'd, as he himself told me, rather to dye a thousand deaths (as indeed, as to matter of suf∣fering, he already had) before he would pay a penny; and yet he was one of the richest Husbandmen of all the Country. How many have been seen patiently to suffer themselves to be burnt and roasted for Opinions taken upon trust from others, and by them not at all un∣derstood?* 2.174 I have known a hundred and a hundred Women (for Gascony has a certain Prerogative for Obstinacy) whom you might sooner have made eat Fire, than forsake an Opi∣nion

they had conceiv'd in Anger. They are more exasperated by blows and constraint. And he that made the Story of the Woman, who in defiance of all Correction, Threats and Bastina∣does, ceast not to call her Husband lowzy Knave; and that being plung'd over Head and Ears in Water, could yet lift her Hands above her Head, and make a sign of cracking Lice, fein'd a Tale, of which in truth we every day see a manifest image in the Obstinacy of Women. And Obsti∣nacy is the Sister of Constancy, at least in Vigour and Stability. We are not to judge what is pos∣sible, and what is not, according to what is credible and incredible to our Apprehension, as I have said elsewhere: and it is a great Fault, and yet that most men are guilty of (which ne∣vertheless I do not mention with any Reflection upon Bodinus) to make a difficulty of believing that in another, which they could not, or would not do themselves. Every one thinks that the sovereign stamp of humane Nature is imprinted in him, and that from it all others must take their Rule; and that all proceedings which are not like his, are feign'd and false. Is any thing of anothers Actions or Faculties propos'd to him? The first thing he calls to the Consultation of his Judgment is his own Example; and as mat∣ters go with him, so they must of Necessity do with all the World besides. O dangerous and intollerable Folly! For my part I consider some men as infinitely beyond me, especially amongst the Antients; and yet, though I clearly discern my inability to come near them by a thousand

paces, I do not forbear to keep them in sight, and to judge of what does elevate them so, of which I also perceive some seeds in my self; as I also do of the extream meanness of some other Minds, which I neither am astonish'd at, nor yet do misbelieve. I very well perceive the turns those great Souls take to raise themselves to such a pitch, and admire their Grandeur; and those flights that I think the bravest, I could be glad to imitate, where, though I want wing, yet my Judgment goes along with them.

The other Example he introduces of things incredible, and wholly fabulous, deliver'd by Plutarch, is, that Agesilaus was fin'd by the Ephori for having wholly engross'd the Hearts and Af∣fections of his Citizens to himself alone.* 2.175 And herein I do not see what sign of Falsity is to be found: but so it is, that Plutarch speaks of things that must needs be better known to him than to us; and it was no new thing in Greece to see men punish'd and exil'd for this very thing of being too acceptable to the People, witness the Ostracism and Petalism. There is yet in this place another Accusation laid against Plutarch, which I cannot well digest; where he says, that he has sincerely coupled the Romans with the Romans, and the Greeks amongst themselves: but not the Romans with the Greeks, witness says he, Demosthenes and Cicero, Cato and Aristi∣des, Sylla and Lysander, Marcellus and Pelopi∣das, and Pompey and Agesilaus, supposing that he has favour'd the Greeks in giving them so un∣equal Companions: which is really to attaque

what in Plutarch is most excellent, and most to be commended. For in his Parallels (which is the most admirable part of all his Works, and with which, in my Opinion, he is himself the most pleas'd) the fidelity and sincerity of his Judge∣ments equal their depth and weight. He is a Philosopher that teaches us Virtue. Let us see whether we cannot defend him from this Re∣proach of Falsity and Prevarication. All that I can imagine could give occasion to this Censure, is, the great and shining lustre of the Roman Names which we have still before us; it does not seem likely to us that Demosthenes could rival the Glory of a Consul, Proconsul, and Que∣stor of that great Republick: but if a man consi∣der the truth of the thing, and the men in them∣selves, which is Plutarch's chiefest aim, and more to balance their Manners, their Natures, and Parts, than their Fortunes; I think contrary to Bodinus, that Cicero, and the elder Cato come ve∣ry far short of the men with whom they are compar'd. I should sooner for his purpose have chosen the example of the younger Cato com∣par'd with Phocian, for in this couple there would have been a more likely disparity to the Romans Advantage. As to Marcellus, Sylla, and Pompey, I very well discern that their Exploits of War are greater and more full of Pomp and Glory than those of the Greeks, which Plutarch compares with them: but the bravest and most virtuous Actions, no more in War than elsewhere, are not always the most renown'd. I often see the Names of Captains obscur'd by the Splendor of

other Names of less desert; witness Labienus, Ventidius, Telesinus, and several others. And to take it by that, were I to complain on the be∣half of the Greeks, could I not say, that Camil∣lus was much less comparable to Themistocles, the Gracchi to Agis, and Cleones and Numa to Ly∣curgus? But 'tis folly to judge of things that have so many Aspects at own view. When Plu∣tarch compares them, he does not for all that make them equal. Who could more learnedly and sincerely have mark'd their distinctions? Does he parallel the Victories, Feats of Arms, the force of their Armies conducted by Pompey, and his Triumphs, with those of Agesilaus? I do not be∣lieve, says he, that Xenophon himself, if he were now living, though he was allowed to write what∣ever pleased him to the advantage of Agesilaus, would dare to bring them into Comparison. Does he speak of parallelling Lysander to Sylla? There is, says he, no Comparison, either in the num∣ber of Victories, or in the hazard of Naval En∣gagements, &c. This is not to derogate from the Romans; for having only simply nam'd them with the Greeks, he can have done them no in∣jury, what disparity soever there may be be∣twixt them: and Plutarch does not entirely op∣pose them to one another, there is no preference in general, he only compares the pieces and cir∣cumstances one after another, and gives of eve∣ry one a particular and separate Judgement; wherefore, if any one would convince him of Partiality, he ought to pick out some one of those particular Judgements, or say in general

that he was mistaken in comparing such a Greek to such a Roman, when there were others more fit and better resembling to parallel him to.

CHAP. XXXIII. The Story of Spurina.

PHilosophy thinks she has not ill employed her Talent, when she has given the sove∣reignty of the Soul, and the authority of re∣straining our Appetites to Reason. Amongst which, they who judge that there is none more violent than those which spring from Love, have this Opinion also, that they seize both of Body and Soul, and possess the whole Man; so that even Health it self depends upon them, and Me∣dicine is sometimes constrained to pimp for them. But a man might on the contrary also say, that the mixture of the Body brings an abatement and weakning; for such desires are subject to Saciety, and capable of material Remedies. Many being determined to rid their Soul from the continual Alarms of this Appetite, have made use of Inci∣sion and Amputation of the rebelling Mem∣bers. Others have subdued their force and ar∣dour by the frequent application of cold things, as Snow, and Vinegar. The Sack-cloths of our Ancestors were for this purpose, which is a Cloth woven of Horses Hair, of which some of them made Shirts, and others Girdles to torture and correct their Reins. A Prince not long ago

told me, that in his Youth, upon a solemn Festi∣val in the Court of King Francis the First, where every Body was very finely dress'd, he would needs put on his Father's Hair Shirt, which was still kept in the House; but how great soever his Devotion was, he had not patience to wear it till Night, and was sick a long time after, ad∣ding withall, that he did not think there could be any youthful heat so fierce that the use of this Receipt would not mortifie, and yet per∣haps he never essay'd the most violent; for Ex∣perience shews us, that such Emotions are often seen under rude and slovenly Cloths, and that a Hair Shirt does not always render those Chaste that wear it. Xenocrates proceeded with greater severity in this Affair, for his Disciples, to make tryal of his Continency, having slipt Lais, that beautiful and famous Curtezan into his Bed quite naked, excepting the arms of her Beauty and her wanton Allurements her Philters, finding, that in the despite of his Reason and philosophical Rules, his unruly flesh began to mutiny, he caus'd those Members of his to be burn'd that he found consenting to this Rebellion. Where∣as the Passions which wholly reside in the Soul, as Ambition, Avarice, and the rest, find the Reason much more to do, because it cannot there be relieved but by its own means; neither are those Appetites capable of Saciety, but grow sharper, and encrease by Fruition. The sole Ex∣ample of Julius Caesar may suffize to demonstrate to us the disparity of these Appetites; for ne∣ver was Man more addicted to amorous Delights

than he: Of which, the delicate Care he had of his Person, to that degree of Effeminacy, as to serve himself with the most lascivious means to that end, as to have the Hairs of his Body twitch'd off bye places, and farded all over with Perfumes with the extreamest curiosity, is one Testimony, and he was a Beautiful Person in himself, of a fair Complexion, tall, and spritely, full fac'd, with quick hazel Eyes, if we may believe Sue∣tonius; for the Statues that we see at Rome do not in all points answer this Discription. Besides his Wives, which he four times changed, with∣out reckoning the Amours of his Child-hood with Nicomedes King of Bithynia; he had the Maidenhead of the Renowned Cleopatra, Queen of Aegypt; witness the little Caesario that he had by her. He also made Love to Eunoe, Queen of Mauritania, and at Rome, to Posthumia, the Wife of Servius Sulpitius, to Lollia, the Wife of Gabinius, to Tortulla, the Wife of Crassus, and even to Mutia, Wife to the Great Pompey: which was the Reason the Roman Historians say, that she was repudiated by her Husband, which Plutarch confesses to be more than he knew. And the Curios, both Father and Son, afterwards re∣proach'd Pompey, when he married Caesar's Daughter, that he had made himself Son-in-law to a man who had made him Cuckold, and one that he himself was wont to call Aegystus. Besides all these, he entertain'd Servilia, Cato's Sister, and Mother to Marcus Brutus, from whence every one believes the great affection he had to Bru∣tus did proceed, by reason that he was born in

a time when it was likely he might be his. So that I have reason, methinks, to take him for a man extreamly given to this Debauch, and of a very amorous Constitution. But the other Passi∣on of Ambition,* 2.176 with which he was exceeding∣ly infected, arising in him to contend with the former, it was soon compell'd to give way. And here calling to mind Mahomet, who won Con∣stantinople, and totally exterminated the Grecian Name; I do not know where these two Passi∣ons were so evenly balanc'd, equally an indefa∣tigable Lecher and Souldier, but where they both meet in his Life, and justle one another, the quarrelling Ardour always gets the better of the amorous Passion. And this, though it was out of its natural Season, never regained an ab∣solute Sovereignty over the other, till he was arriv'd at an extream old Age, and unable to undergo the Fatigues of War. What is related for a contrary Example, of Ladislaus King of Naples, is very remarkable; that being a great Captain, Valiant, and Ambitious, he propos'd to himself for the principal end of his Ambiti∣on, the execution of his Pleasure, and the en∣joyment of some rare and excellent Beauty. His death seal'd up all the rest: for having by a close and tedious Seige reduc'd the City of Florence to so great distress, that the Inhabitants were com∣pell'd to Capitulate about surrender; he was con∣tent to let them alone, provided they would de∣liver up to him a beautiful Maid he had heard of in their City. They were forc'd to yield to it, and by a private Injury to divert the publick

Ruin. She was the Daughter of a famous Phy∣sician of his time, who finding himself involv'd in so foul a Necessity, resolv'd upon a high At∣tempt; for as every one was laying to a hand to trick up his Daughter, and to adorn her with Ornaments and Jewels, to render her more agre∣able to this new Lover, he also gave her a Hand∣kerchief most richly wrought, and of an exqui∣site perfume, (an Implement they never go with∣out in those Parts) which she was to make use of at their first approaches. This Handkerchief, empoisoned with his chiefest Art, comming to be rub'd between the chaf'd Flesh and open Pores, both of the one and the other, so suddenly in∣fus'd the Poyson, that immediately converting their warm into a cold Sweat, they presently di∣ed in one anothers Arms. But I return to Caesar. His Pleasures never made him steal one minute of an hour, nor step one step aside from Occa∣sions that might any way conduce to his Ad∣vancement. That Passion was so sovereign in him over all the rest, and with so absolute au∣thority possest his Soul, that it guided him at pleasure: In earnest, it troubles me when (as to every thing else) I consider the greatness of this Man, and the wonderful Parts wherewith he was endued, learn'd to that degree in all sorts of Knowledge, that there is hardly any one Sci∣ence of which he has not written: He was so great an Orator, that many have prefer'd his Eloquence to that of Cicero; and he, I conceive, did not think himself inferiour to him in that particular: for his two Anti-Catos were chiefly

writ to counterbalance the Elocution that Ci∣cero had expended in his Cato. As to the rest, was ever Soul so vigilant, so active, and so pa∣tient of Labour as his? and doubtless it was em∣bellish'd with many rare seeds of Virtue, I mean innate, and natural, and not put on. He was sin∣gularly Sober, so far from being delicate in his Diet, that Opius relates, how that having one day at Table Physical, instead of common Oyl, in some Sawce set before him, he did eat hearti∣ly of it, that he might not put his Entertainer out of Countenance. Another time he caus'd his Baker to be whip'd for serving him with a finer than ordinary sort of Bread. Cato himself was wont to say of him, that he was the first sober man that ever made it his Business to ruin his Country. And as to the same Cato's calling him one day Drunkard, it fell out thus. Being both of them in the Senate, at a time when Catiline's Conspi∣racy was in Question, of which Caesar was su∣spected, one came and brought him a Ticket seal'd up: Cato believing that it was something the Con∣spirators gave him notice of, call'd to him to de∣liver it into his hand, which Caesar was con∣strained to do to avoid farther suspicion. It was by fortune a Love-letter that Servilia, Cato's Si∣ster had written to him; which Cato having read, he threw it back to him, saying, there Drunkard. This, I say,* 2.177 was rather a word of disdain and an∣ger, than an express reproach of this Vice, as we often rate those that anger us with the first in∣jurious words comes into our Mouths, though nothing due to those we are offended at. To

which may be added, that the Vice which Cato cast in his dish is wonderfully near a-kin to that wherein he had trap'd Caesar; for Bacchus and Venus,* 2.178 according to the Proverb, do very willing∣ly agree; but with me Venus is most spritely when I am the most sober. The Examples of his Sweetness and Clemency to those by whom he had been offended are infinite;* 2.179 I mean, besides those he gave during the time of the Civil Wars, which, as plainly enough appears by his Writings, he practised to cajole his Enemies, and to make them less affraid of his future Dominion and Vi∣ctory. But I must also say, that if these Examples are not sufficient Proofs of his natural Sweetness, they at least manifest a marvellous Confidence and Grandeur of Courage in this Person.. He has often been known to dismiss whole Armies, after having overcome them, to his Enemies, without Ransome, or deigning so much as to bind them by Oath, if not to favour him, at least no more to bear Arms against him. He has three or four times taken some of Pompey's Cap∣tains Prisoners, and as oft set them at Liberty. Pompey declar'd all those to be Enemies who did not follow him to the War, and he pro∣claim'd all those to be his Friends who sate still and did not actually take Arms against him. To such Captains of his as run away from him to go over to the other side, he sent moreover their Arms, Horses, and Equipage. The Cities he had taken by force, he left at full liberty to take which side they pleas'd, imposing no other Gar∣rison upon them but the memory of his Sweet∣ness

and Clemency. He gave strict and express Charge the day of his great Battel of Pharsalia, that without the utmost necessity no one should lay a hand upon the Citizens of Rome. These, in my Opinion, were very hazardous Proceed∣ings, and 'tis no wonder if those in our Civil War, who, like him, fight against the ancient estate of their Country, do not follow his Exam∣ple; they are extraordinary means, and that only appertain to Caesar's Fortune, and to his admi∣rable Fore-sight in the conduct of Affairs. When I consider the incomparable Grandeur of his Soul, I excuse Victory that it could not disengage it self from him, even in so unjust and so wick∣ed a Cause.

To return to his Clemency; we have many natural Examples in the time of his Government; when all things being reduc'd to his Power, he had no more need to dissemble. Caius Memmius had writ very severe Orations against him, which he had as sharply answer'd: yet did not soon af∣ter forbear to use his interest to make him Con∣sul. Caius Calvus, who had compos'd several in∣jurious Epigrams against him, having employ'd many of his Friends to mediate a Reconciliation with him, Caesar voluntarily perswaded himself to write first to him. And our good Catullus, who had so rudely ruffled him under the name of Mamurra, coming to make his excuses to him, he made him the same day sit at his Table. Ha∣ving Intelligence of some who spoke ill of him, he did no more, but only in a publick Oration declare that he had notice of it. He also less

fear'd his Enemies than he hated them. Some Conspiracies and Cabals that were made against his Life, being discover'd to him, he satisfied himself in publishing by Proclamation that they were known to him, without further prosecu∣ting the Conspirators.

As to the respect he had to his Friends; Caius Oppius, being with him upon a Journey, and finding himself ill, he left him the only Lodging he had for himself, and lay all Night upon the hard Ground in the open Air. As to what con∣cerns his Justice; he put a beloved Servant of his to Death for lying with a noble Roman's Wife, though there was no complaint made. Never had man more Moderation in his Victo∣ry, nor more Resolution in his adverse Fortune. But all these good Inclinations were stifled and spoil'd by his furious Ambition,* 2.180 by which he suffer'd himself to be so transported and misled, that a man may easily maintain, that that Passion guided the Rudder of all his Actions. Of a li∣beral man, it made him a publick Thief to sup∣ply this Bounty and Profusion, and made him ut∣ter this vile and unjust saying, That if the most wicked and profligate Persons in the World had been faithful in serving him towards his Advance∣ment, he would cherish and prefer them to the ut∣most of his Power, as much as the best of men: It intoxicated him with so excessive a Vanity, as to dare to boast in the Presence of his Fellow Ci∣tizens, that he had made the great Common-wealth of Rome a Name without Form, and without Body; and to say that his answer for the future

should stand for Laws, and also to receive the Body of the Senate comming towards him sitting; to suffer himself to be ador'd, and to to have di∣vine Honours paid to him in his own Presence. To conclude, this sole Vice, in my Opinion, spoil'd in him the most rich and beautiful Na∣ture that ever was, and has render'd his Name abominable to all good Men, in that he would erect his Glory upon the Ruines of his Coun∣try, and the Subversion of the greatest and most flourishing Republick the World shall ever see.

There might on the contrary many examples be produc'd of great men whom Pleasures have made to neglect the conduct of their Affairs, as Mark Anthony and others; but where Love and Ambition should be in equal Balance, and come to justle with equal Forces, I make no doubt but the last would win the prize.

But to return to my Subject; 'Tis much to bridle our Appetites by the Discourse of Reason, or by Violence to contain our Members within their Duty: but to lash our selves for our Neigh∣bours Interest, and not only to divest our selves of the charming Passion that tickles us with the Pleasure we feel of being agreeable to others, and courted and beloved of every one; but also to conceive a hatred against the Graces that produce that effect, and to condemn our Beau∣ty because it enflames others; of this I confess I have met with few Examples: this indeed is one. Spurina, a young man of Tuscany,

* 2.181Qualis gemma micat fulvum quae dividet aurum, Aut collo decus, aut capiti, vel quale per artem Inclusum buxo, aut Ericia Terebintho. Lucet ebur, —

As a Gem shines in yellow Gold enchac'd, On Neck or Head, for Decoration plac'd; Or as by Art I'vry does luster get In the Erician Terebinthus set.

being endow'd with a singular Beauty, and so excessive, that the chastest Eyes could not chast∣ly behold its Raies; not contenting himself with leaving so much flame and feaver as he every where kindled, without relief, enter'd into a fu∣rious spite against himself, and those great En∣dowments Nature had so liberally conferr'd up∣on him; as if a man were responsible to himself for the Faults of others: and purposely slash'd and disfigur'd, with many Wounds and Scars, the perfect Simmetry and Proportion that Nature had so curiously imprinted in his Face. To give my free Opinion, I more admire than honour such Actions. Such Excesses are enemies to my Rules. The design was Conscientious and Good, but certainly a little defective in Prudence. What! if his Deformity serv'd afterwards to make others guilty of the Sin of Hatred, or Contempt, or of Envy, at the Glory of so commendable an Acti∣on, or of Calumny, interpreting this Humour a mad Ambition! Is there any Form from whence Vice cannot, if it will, extract occasion to exer∣cise it self one way or another? It had been

more just, and also more noble, to have made of these Gifts of God a Subject of regularity and exemplary Virtue. They who retire themselves from the common Offices, from that infinite num∣ber of Vice, and manifest Rules that fetter a man of exact honesty in the Civil Life, are in my opinion very discreet; what peculiar sharp∣ness of Constraint soever they impose upon them∣selves in so doing. 'Tis in some sort a kind of dying to avoid the Pain of living well. They may have another reward, but the reward of the difficulty I fancy they can never have, nor that in uneasiness there can be any thing beyond keeping himself upright in the waves of the World, truly and exactly performing all parts of his Duty. 'Tis peradventure more easie to live clean from the whole Sex, than to maintain a man's self exactly in all points in the Society of a Wife. And a man may more incuriously slip into want than abundance duly dispenc'd. Custom, carried on according to Reason, has in it more of sharpness than abstinence. Mo∣deration is a Virtue that has more work than Sufferance. The well living of Scipio has a thousand fashions, that of Diogenes but one. This as much excells the ordinary Lives in In∣nocency, as the most accomplish'd excell them in utility and force.

CHAP. XXXIV. Observation of the means to carry on a War according to Julius Caesar.

'TIS said of many great Leaders, that they have had certain Books in particular esteem, as Alexander the Great, Homer, Scipio Affricanus, Xenophon, Marcus Brutus, Polibius, Charles the Fifth, Philip de Commines, and 'tis said, that in our times Machiavel is elsewhere in Repute; but the late Mareschal Strossy, who took Caesar for his Man, doubtless made the best choice, being that that Book in truth ought to be the Breviary of every great Souldier, as be∣ing the true and most excellent Pattern of all Military Art. And moreover, God knows with what Grace and Beauty he has embellish'd that rich Matter, with so pure, delicate, and perfect Expression, that, in my Opinion, there are no Writings in the World comparable to his, as to that. I will set down some rare and particu∣lar Passages of his Wars that remain in my me∣mory.

His Army, being in some Consternation upon the Rumour that was spread of the great Forces that King Juba was leading against him; instead of abating the Apprehension which his Souldiers had conceived at the News, and of lessening the Forces of the Enemy, having call'd them all to∣gether to encourage and reassure them, he took a quite contrary way to what we are us'd to do,

for he told them that they needed no more to trouble themselves with enquiring after the En∣mies Forces, for that he was certainly inform'd thereof, and then told them of a number much surpassing both the truth and the report that was rumour'd in his Army; following the advice of Cyrus in Xenophon; forasmuch as the imposture is not of so great importance to find an Enemy weaker than we expected, than to find him real∣ly very strong, after having been made to be∣lieve that he was weak. It was always his use to accustom his Souldiers simply to obey,* 2.182 with∣out taking upon them to controul, or so much as to speak of their Captains designs; which he never communicated to them but upon the point of Execution, and took a delight, if they disco∣ver'd any thing of what he intended, immediate∣ly to change his Orders to deceive them; and to that purpose would often, when he had as∣sign'd his Quarters in a place, pass forward and lengthen his days march, especially if it was foul Weather. The Swisse, in the beginning of his Wars in Gaul, having sent to him to demand a free passage over the Roman Territories; though resolv'd to hinder them by force, he neverthe∣less spoke kindly to the Messengers, and took some respite to return an Answer, to make use of that time for the calling his Army together. These silly People did not know how good a Husband he was of his time: for he does often repeat, that it is the best part of a Captain to know how to make use of Occasions, and his diligence in his Exploits are in truth unheard of

and incredible. If he was not very conscienti∣ous in taking advantage of an Enemy under co∣lour of a Treaty of Agreement, he was as little in this, that he requir'd no other Virtue in a Souldier, but Valour only, and seldom punish'd any other Faults but Mutiny and Disobedience. He would oft after his Victories turn them loose to all sorts of Licence, dispensing them for some time from the Rules of Military Discipline, say∣ing withall, that he had Souldiers so well train'd up, that powder'd and perfum'd, they would run furiously to the fight. In truth he lov'd to have them richly arm'd, and made them wear engraved, gilded, and damask'd Arms, to the end that the care of saving their Arms might engage them to a more obstinate defence. Speak∣ing to them, he call'd them by the name of Fel∣low-Souldiers, which we yet use; which his Successor Augustus reform'd, supposing he had only done it upon Necessity, and to cajole those who only follow'd him as Volunters;

— Rheni mihi Caesar in undis. * 2.183Dux erat, hic socius, facinus quos inquinat aequat.

Great Caesar, who my Gen'ral did appear Upon the Banks of Rhine's my Fellow here; For wickedness, where it once hold does take, All men whom it defiles does equal make.

but that this carriage was too mean and low for the Dignity of an Emperour and General of an Army; and therefore brought up the custom of calling them Souldiers only. With this Courte∣sie

Caesar mixt great Severity to keep them in awe. The ninth Legion having mutin'd near to Placentia, he ignominiously casheer'd them, though Pompey was then yet on foot, and re∣ceiv'd them not again to Grace till after many Supplications. He quieted them more by Au∣thority and Boldness than by gentle ways. In that place where he speaks of his Passage over the Rhine towards Germany, he says, that think∣ing it unworthy of the Honour of Roman Peo∣ple to waft over his Army in Vessels, he built a Bridge that they might pass over dry foot. There it was that he built that wonderful Bridg, of which he gives so particular a Description:* 2.184 for he no where so willingly insists upon his own Actions, as in representing to us the sub∣tlety of his Inventions in such kind of things. I have also observ'd this, that he set a great value upon his Exhortations to the Souldiers before the fight; for where he would shew that he was either surpriz'd, or reduc'd to a Necessity of fighting, he always brings in this, that he had not so much as liesure to Harangue his Army. Before that great Battel with those of Tournay, Caesar, says he, having given order for every thing else, presently ran where Fortune carried him to encourage his People, and meeting with the tenth Legion, had no more time to say any thing to them but this, that they should remem∣ber their wonted Valour, not be astonish'd, but bravely sustain the Enemies encounter; and be∣ing the Enemy was already approach'd within a Darts cast, he gave the signal of Battel; and

going suddenly thence elsewhere to encourage others, he found that they were already engag'd. His Tongue has indeed done him notable Ser∣vice upon several Occasions, and his Military Eloquence was in his own time so highly repu∣ted, that many of his Army writ down his Ha∣rangues as he spoke them, by which means there were Volumes of them collected that continued a long time after him. He had so particular a Grace in speaking, that they who were particu∣larly acquainted with him, and Augustus, amongst others, hearing those Orations read, could di∣stinguish even to the Phrases and Words that were none of his. The first time that he went out of Rome with any publick Command, he arriv'd in eight days at the River Rhine, having with him in his Coach a Secretary or two be∣fore him who were continually writing, and him that carried his Sword behind him. And certainly, though a man did nothing but in∣tend his way, he could hardly have perform'd that Journey so soon. With which promptness having been every where Victorious in Gaul, he left it, and following Pompey to Brundusium, in eighteen days time he subdued all Italy,* 2.185 return'd from Brundusium to Rome, and from Rome went into the very heart of Spain, where he under∣went extream difficulties in the War against Afranius and Petreius, and in the long Siege of Marcelles; from thence he return'd into Mace∣donia, beat the Roman Army at Pharsalia: pas∣sed from thence in pursuit of Pompey into Egypt, which he also subdu'd; from Aegypt he went

into Syria, and the Territories of Pontus, where he fought Pharnaces; from thence into Affrick, where he defeated Scipio and Juba; again retur∣ned through Italy into Spain, where he defeated Pompey's Sons.

Ocior & coeli flammis, & tigride foeta.* 2.186 Ac veluti montis saxum de vertice praeceps Cum ruit avulsum vento, seu turbidus imber Proluit, aut annis solvit sublapsa vetustas, Fertur in abruptum magno mons improbus actu, Exultatque solo, silvas, armenta, virosque, Involvens secum.

Swifter than Lightning, or the furious course Of the fell Tigress when she is a Nurse; And as a Stone torn from the Mountains crown By some rough Wind thence tumbles headlong down Whether wash'd off by Torrents of a Shower, Or loos'd by Age's all-subduing Power, The pond'rous Mass falls with a mighty force, And grazing here and there, does in its course Sweep all before it, Men, and Flocks, and Droves, And levels with the Earth opposing Groves.

Speaking of the Siege of Avaricum, he says, that it was his Custom to be night and day with the Pioneers. In all Enterprizes of Consequence he still discover'd in Person, and never brought his Army into Quarters till he had first view'd the Place. And if we may believe Suetonius, when he resolv'd to pass over into England, he was the first man that sounded the Passage. He was

wont to say, that he more valu'd a Victory ob∣tain'd by Counsel than Force. And in the War against Petreius and Afranius, Fortune presen∣ting him with an occasion of manifest Advantage, he declin'd it, saying, that he hop'd with a little more time and less hazard to overthrow his Enemies. He there also play'd a notable part, in commanding his whole Army to pass the River by Swimming, without any manner of necessity.

* 2.187—rapuitque ruens in praelia miles Quod fugiens timuisset iter, mox uda receptis Membra fovent armis, gelidosque à gurgite, cursu Restituunt artus.

The Souldiers rush thorough a Pass to fight They would have been affraid t'ave tane in flight Then with their Arms their wet Limbs cover ore, And their numm'd Joynts by running do restore.

I find him a little more temperate and conside∣rate in his Enterprizes than Alexander, for this seems to seek and run headlong upon dangers, like an impetuous Torrent attacks and rushes against every thing it meets without Choice or Discretion.

Sic tauri-formis volvitur Aufidus, * 2.188Qui regna Dauni perfluit Appuli Dum saevit, horrendamque cultis Diluviem meditatur agris.

* 2.189So the biforked Aufidus amain Runs bellowing forth along th'Apulian Plain,

When he with rage, and swelling Floods abounds Threatning a Deluge to the tilled Grounds.

And indeed he was a General in the flower and first heat of his Youth, whereas Caesar took up the Trade at a ripe and well advanc'd Age. To which may moreover be added, that Alex∣ander was of a more sanguine, hot, and cholerick Constitution, apt to push him on to such Extra∣vagancies, which he also inflam'd with Wine, from which Caesar was very abstinent: but where necessary occasion requir'd, never did any man venture his Person more than he: so much that for my part, methinks, I read in many of his Exploits a determinate Resolution to throw himself away,* 2.190 to avoid the shame of being overcome. In his great Battel with those of Tour∣nay, he charg'd up to the head of the Enemies without his Shield, as he was surpriz'd, seeing the Van of his own Army to begin to give ground, which has also several times befall'n him. Hearing that his People where besieg'd, he pass'd through the Enemies Army in disguise to go encourage them with his Presence. Ha∣ving cross'd over to Dyrrachium with very slender Forces, and seeing the remainder of his Army, which he left to Antonius his Conduct, slow in following him, he attempted alone to repass the Sea in a very great Storm; and pri∣vately stole away to fetch the rest of his Forces, the Ports on the other side being seiz'd by Pom∣pey, and the whole Sea being in his Possession.

And as to what he perform'd by force of hand, there are very many Exploits that in hazard exceed all the Rules of War: for with how small means did he undertake to subdue the Kingdom of Egypt, and afterwards to attaque the Forces of Scipio and Juba, ten times greater than his? These People have had I know not what of more than humane Confidence in their Fortune, and he was wont to say, that men must execute, and not deliberate upon Enterprizes. After the Battel of Pharsalia, when he had sent his Army away before him into Asia, and was passing in one single Vessel the Streight of the Hellespont, he met Lucius Cassius at Sea with ten tall men of War, where he had the Courage not only to stay his coming, but to stand up with him, and summon him to yield, and did his bu∣siness. Having undertaken that furious siege of Alexia, where there were fourscore thousand men in Garrison, and that all Gaul was in arms to raise the siege, having set an Army on foot of a hundred and nine thousand Horse, and of two hundred and forty thousand Foot, what a Boldness and mad Confidence was it in him, that he would not give over his Attempt, and retire in two so invincible Difficulties? which never∣theless he underwent: and after having won that great Battel against those without, soon reduc'd those within to his Mercy. The same hapned to Lucullus at the Siege of Tigranocerta against King Tigranes, but the Condition of the Enemy was not the same, considering the Effeminacy of those with whom Lucullus had to deal. I will

here set down two rare and extraordinary Events concerning this Siege of Alexia; one, that the Gaules having drawn their Powers together to encounter Caesar, after they had made a Gene∣ral muster of all their Forces, resolv'd in their Councel of War to dismiss a good part of this great multitude, that they might not fall into Confu∣sion. This Example of fearing being too many is new; but to take it right, it stands to reason that the Body of an Army should be of a mode∣rate greatness, and regulated to certain bounds, both out of respect to the difficulty of provi∣ding for them, and the difficulty of Governing and keeping them in Order. At least it is very easie to make it appear by Example,* 2.191 that Ar∣mies so monstrous in number have seldom done any thing to purpose. According to the saying of Cyrus in Xenophon, 'Tis not the number of men, but the number of good men that gives the Advan∣tage: the remainder serving rather to trouble than assist. And Bajazet principally grounded his Resolution of giving Tamberlaine Battel, con∣trary to the Opinion of all his Captains, upon this, that his Enemies numberless number of men gave him assured hopes of Confusion. Scan∣derbeg,* 2.192 a very good and expert Judge in such matters, was wont to say, that ten or twelve thousand faithful fighting men were sufficient to a good Leader to secure his Reputation in all sorts of Military Occasions. The other thing I will here record, which seems to be contrary both to Custom and Rules of War, is, that Vercingentorix, who was made General of all the parts of the

revolted Gaule, should go shut up himself in Alexia: for he who has the command of a whole Country, ought never to engage his Person but in case of the last Extremity, that the only place he had left is in concern, and that the only hope he had left was in the defence of that City; Otherwise he ought to keep himself always at Liberty, that he may have means to provide in general for all parts of his Government.

To return to Caesar. He grew in time more slow, and more considerate, as his Friend Oppius does witness: conceiving that he ought not ea∣sily to hazard the Glory of so many Victories, which one blow of Fortune might deprive him of. 'Tis what the Italians say, when they would reproach the rashness and fool hardiness of young People, calling them Bisognosi d'honore, necessitous of Honour, and that being in so great a want and dearth of Reputation, they have reason to seek it at what price soever, which they ought not to do, who have acquir'd enough already. There might reasonably there be some Moderation, and some Saciety in this Thirst and Appetite of Glo∣ry, as well as in other things: and there are enow who practice it. He was far remote from the religious Observation of the antient Romans, who would never prevail in their Wars, but by dint of Truce, and simple Valour; and yet he was more conscientious than we should be in these days, and did not approve all sorts of means to obtain a Victory. In the War against Ariovistus, whilst he was parlying with him, there hapned a great tumult, which was occasioned by

the Fault of Ariovistus his Light-Horse, wherein, ••hough Caesar saw he had a very great Advan∣tage of the Enemy, he would make no use on't, lest he should have been reproach'd with a trea∣cherous proceeding. He was always wont to wear a rich Garment, and of a shining Colour in Battel, that he might be the more remarkable, and better observ'd. He always carried a strict∣er hand over his Souldiers, and kept them clo∣ser together when near an Enemy. When the antient Greeks would accuse any one of extream insufficiency, they would say in common Pro∣verb, that he could neither read nor swim; he was of the same Opinion, that swimming was of great use in War, and himself found it so, for being to use Diligence, he commonly swam over the Rivers in his way; for he lov'd to march on foot, as also did Alexander the great. Being in Egypt forc'd, to save himself to go into a lit∣tle Boat, and so many People leaping in with him, that it was in danger of sinking, he chose rather to commit himself to the Sea, and reco∣ver'd his Fleet, which lay two hundred paces off, holding in his left hand his Tablets, and drawing his Coat-Armour in his Teeth, that it might not fall into the Enemies hand, by swimming at a pretty advanc'd Age. Never had any General so much Credit with his Souldiers: In the beginning of the Civil-Wars, his Centurions offer'd him to find every one a man at Arms at his own charge, and the Foot Souldiers to serve him at their own expence; those who were most at their ease more∣over undertaking to defray the most necessitous.

The late Admiral Chastillion shewed us the like Example in our Civil War;* 2.193 for the French of his Army laid out Money out of their own Purses to pay the Strangers that were with them. There are but rarely found Examples of so ardent and so ready an Affection amongst the Souldiers of elder times, who kept themselves strictly to their Rules of War. Passion has a more absolute com∣mand over us than Reason; and yet it has hap∣ned in the War against Hannibal, that by the Examples of the People of Rome, in the City, the Souldiers and Captains refus'd their Pay in the Army, and in Marcellus his Camp those were branded with the name of Mercenaries who would receive any. Having come by the worse near Dyrrachium, his Souldiers came and offer'd them∣selves to be chastis'd and punish'd, so that there was more need to comfort than reprove them. One single Cohort of his withstood four of Pom∣pey's Legions above four hours together, till they were almost all kill'd with Arrows, so that there were a hundred and thirty thousand Shafts found in the Trench. A Souldier call'd Scaeva, who commanded at one of the Avenues, invincibly maintain'd his ground, having lost an Eye, one Shoulder, and one Thigh shot through, and his Shield shot through in two hundred and thirty places. It hapned that many of his Souldiers be∣ing taken Prisoners, rather chose to dye than promise to take the contrary side. Granius Pe∣••ronius, taken by Scipio in Affrick, Scipio having put the rest to death, sent him word that he gave him his Life, for he was a man of Quality, and

Questor, to whom Petronius sent answer back, that Caesar's Souldiers were wont to give others their Lives, and not to receive it, and immedi∣ately with his own hand kill'd himself. Of their Fidelity there are infinite Examples; amongst which, that which was done by those who were besieg'd in Salona,* 2.194 a City that stood for Caesar against Pompey, is not, for the rarity of an Ac∣cident that there hapned, to be forgot. Marcus Octavius kept them close besieg'd; they within being reduc'd to the extreamest necessity of all things, so that to supply the want of men, most of them being either slain or wounded, they had manumitted all their Slaves, and had been con∣strain'd to cut of all the Womens Hair to make Ropes, besides a wonderful Dearth of Victuals, and yet continuing resolute never to yield: Af∣ter having drawn the Siege to a great length, by which Octavius was grown more negligent and less attentive to his Enterprize, they made choice of one Day about Noon, and having first plac'd the Women and Children upon the Walls to make a shew, sallied upon the Besiegers with such fury, that having routed the first, second, and third Court of Guard, and afterwards the fourth, and all the rest, and beaten them all out of their Trenches, they pursu'd them even to their Ships, and Octavius himself was fain to fly to Dyrrachium where Pompey lay. I do not at present remember that I have met with any other Example where the Besieged ever gave the Be∣sieger a total Defeat, and won the Field; nor that a sally ever arriv'd at the consequence of a pure and entire Victory of Battel.

CHAP. XXXV. Of three good Women.

THey are not by the dozen, as every one knows, and especially in the Duties of Marriage; for that is a bargain full of so many nice Circumstances, that 'tis hard a Womans Will should long endure such a restraint. Men, tho' their condition be something better under that tye, have yet enough to do. The true touch and test of a happy Marriage respects the time of their Cohabitation only, if it has been constantly mild, loyal, and commodious. In our Age Women commonly reserve the publication of their good Offices, and their vehement affection towards their Husbands untill they have lost them, or at least, till then defer the Testimonies of their good Will. A too slow Testimony, and that comes too late; by which they rather manifest that they never lov'd them till dead. Their Life is nothing but Trouble, their Death full of Love and Courtesie. As Fathers conceal their affecti∣on from their Children, Women likewise con∣ceal theirs from their Husbands to maintain a mo∣dest Respect. This mystery is not for my pallat; 'tis to much purpose that they scratch themselves and tear their Hair. I whisper in a Wayting-woman or a Secretaries Ear, how were they? how did they live together? I always have that good Say∣ing in my head, jactantius maerent, quae minus do∣lent. They make the most ado who are least concern'd.

Their whimpering is offensive to the living, and vain to the dead: we should willingly give them leave to laugh after we are dead, provi∣ded they will smile upon us whilst we are alive. Is it not to make a man revive in spite, that she who spit in my face whilst I was, shall come to kiss my feet when I am no more? If there be any Honour in lamenting a Husband, it only appertains to those who smil'd upon them whilst they had them, let those who wept during their Lives laugh at their Deaths, as well outwardly as within. Moreover, never regard those blub∣ber'd Eyes, and that pittiful Voice; but consi∣der her Deportments, her Complexion, and the plumpness of her Cheecks under all those for∣mal Veils; 'tis there the discovery is to be made. There are few who do not mend upon't, and Health is a quality that cannot lye: that starch'd and ceremonious Countenance looks not so much back as forward, and is rather intended to get a new one than to lament the old. When I was a Boy, a very beautiful and virtuous Lady, who is yet living, and the Widow of a Prince, had I know not what more Ornament in her Dress than our Laws of Widow-hood will well allow, which being reproach'd withall as a great In∣decency, she made Answer, That it was because she was resolv'd to have no more Friendships, and would never marry again.

I have here, not at all dissenting from our Cu∣stoms, made choice of three Women, who have also express'd the utmost of their Goodness and Affections about their Husbands deaths; yet are

they Examples of another kind than are now in Use, and so severe, as will hardly be drawn in∣to Imitation.

The younger Pliny had near unto a House of his in Italy a Neighbour who was exceedingly tormented with certain Ulcers in his private Parts. His Wife seeing him so long to languish, intreated that he would give her leave to see, and at leisure to consider of the condition of his Disease, and that she would freely tell him what she Thought: This Permission being obtain'd, and she having curiously examin'd the Business, found it impossible he could ever be cur'd, and that all he was to hope for or expect, was a great while to linger out a painful and miserable Life, and therefore, as the most sure and sovereign Re∣medy, resolutely advis'd him to kill himself. But finding him a little tender and backward in so rude an Attempt: Do not think my Friend, said she, that the Torments I see thee endure are not as sensible to me as to thy self, and that to deliver my self from them, I will not my self make use of the same Remedy I have prescrib'd to thee. I will ac∣company thee in the Cure as I have done in the Disease; fear nothing, but believe that we shall have pleasure in this Passage, that is, to free us from so many Miseries, and we will go happily together. Which having said, and rous'd up her Husband's Courage, she resolv'd that they should throw themselves headlong into the Sea out of a Win∣dow that lean'd over it; and that she might main∣tain to the last the loyal and vehement Affecti∣on wherewith she had embrac'd him during his

Life, she would yet have him dye in her Arms; but for fear they should fail, and lest they should leave their hold in the fall, and through fear, she tyed herself fast to him by the waste, and so gave up her own Life to procure her Husband's re∣pose. This was a mean Woman, and even amongst that condition of People, 'tis no very new thing to see some rare Examples of Virtue.

—extrema per illos* 2.195 Justitia excedens terris vestigia fecit.

When from the Earth Justice her self bereft, She her lost steps upon such People left.

The other two were noble and rich, where Examples of Vertue are rarely lodg'd. Arria, the Wife of Cecinna Petus, a Consular Person, was the Mother of another Arria, the Wife of Tharsea Petus, he whose Vertue was so renown'd in the time of Nero, and by means of this Son-in-Law, the Grand-mother of Fannia: for the resemblance of the names of these Men and Wo∣men, and their fortunes, have made many mi∣stake. This first Arria, her Husband Cecinna Petus,* 2.196 having been taken prisoner by some of the Emperour Claudius his People, after Scribo∣nianus his Defeat, whose Party he had embrac'd in the War, begg'd of those who were to carry him prisoner to Rome, that they would take her into their Ship, where she should be of much less charge and trouble to them than a great ma∣ny Persons they must otherwise have to attend her Husband, and that she alone would under∣take

to serve him in his Chamber, his Kitchen, and all other Offices. But they refus'd her, where∣fore she put her self into a Fisher boat she hir'd on a sudden, and in that manner from Slavonia followed him. Being come to Rome, Junia, the Widow of Scribonianus, one day, for the resem∣blance of their Fortune, accosting her in the Em∣perour's presence; she rudely repuls'd her with these words, I, said she, speak to thee, or give ear to any thing thou sayst; to thee in whose lap Scri∣bonianus was slain, and thou art yet alive? These words, with several other signs, gave her Friends to understand that she would undoubtedly dis∣patch herself, impatient of supporting her Hus∣band's Fortune. And Thrasea, her Son-in-Law, beseeching her not to throw away herself, and saying to her, What? If I should run the same Fortune that Cecinna has done, would you that your Daughter, my Wife, should do the same: Would I? reply'd she, Yes, yes, I would, if she had liv'd as long, and in as good intelligence with thee as I have done with my Husband. These Answers made them more careful of her, and to have a more watchful Eye to her Deportments. One day, having said to those that look'd to her; 'Tis to much purpose that you take all this pains to pre∣vent me; you may indeed make me to dye an ill death, but to keep me from dying is not in your power; she suddenly furious started from a Chair wherein she sate, and with all her force ran her head against the wall, by which blow being laid flat in a swoon, and very much woun∣ded, after they had again with much ado brought

her to her self: I told you, said she, that if you refused me some easie way of dying, I should find out another how painful soever. The conclusion of so admirable a Virtue was thus: Her Husband Petus, not having Resolution enough of his own to dispatch himself, as he was by the Emperour's cruelty enjoyn'd, one day amongst others, after having first employ'd all the Reasons and Ex∣hortations which she thought most prevalent to perswade him to it, she snatch'd the Poignard he wore from his side, and holding it ready in her hand, for the conclusion of her Admoni∣tions, Do thus Petus, said she, and in the same instant giving herself a mortal stab in the Breast, and then drawing it out of the wound, presen∣ted it to him, ending her Life with this noble, generous, and immortal Saying, Paete non dolet. Petus, it hurts not; having strength to pronounce no more but those three never to be forgot∣ten words.

Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria Paeto,* 2.197 Quem de viceribus traxerat ipso suis: Si qua fides, vulnus quod feci, non dolet, inquit, Sed quod tu facies, id mihi Paete dolet.

When the Chaste Arria gave the reeking brand That had new goar'd her heart to Petus's hand, Petus, the wound I've made hurts not, quoth she, But the wound thou wilt make, 'tis that hurts me.

The Action was much more noble in it self, and of a braver sence than the Poet could express it; for she was so far from being deterr'd by the

Cruelty of her Husbands Wound and Death, and her own, that she had been the Promotress, and had given the Advice: but having perform'd this high and courageous Enterprize for her Husbands only Convenience, she had even in the last gasp of her Life no other concern but for him, and of dispossessing him of the fear of dying with her. Petus presently struck himself to the Heart with the same Weapon, asham'd, I believe, to have stood in need of so dear and pretious an Example.

Pompeia Paulina, a young and very noble Roman Lady, had married Seneca in his extream old Age. Nero, his fine Pupil, sent his Guards to him to denounce the Sentence of Death, which was perform'd after this manner. When the Roman Emperours of those times had condemn'd any man of Quality, they sent to him by their Officers to choose what Death he would, and to execute it within such or such a time, which was limited according to the mettle of their Indig∣nation, to a shorter, or a longer respite, that they might therein have better leisure to dispose their Affairs, and sometimes depriving them of the means of doing it by the shortness of the time; and if the condemn'd seem'd unwilling to submit to the Order, they had People ready at hand to execute it either by cutting the Veins of the Arms and Legs, or by compelling them by force to swallow a draught of Poison. But Persons of Honour would not stay this Necessity, but made use of their own Physicians and Chirurgeons for this purpose. Seneca, with a calm and steady

Countenance heard their charge, and presently call'd for Paper to write his Will, which being by the Captain deny'd, he turn'd himself towards his Friends, saying to them, Since I cannot leave you any other Acknowledgment of the Obligation I have to you, I leave you at least the best thing I have, namely▪ the Image of my Life and Manners, which I intreat you to keep in Memory of me; that so doing you may acquire the Glory of sincere and real Friends. And therewithall, one while ap∣peasing the Sorrow he saw them in with gentle Words, and presently raising his Voice to re∣prove them; What, said he, are become of all our brave Philosophical Precepts? What are become of all the Provisions we have so many years laid up against the Accidents of Fortune? Is Nero's Cru∣elty unknown to us? What could we expect from him who had murther'd his Mother, and his Bro∣ther, but that he should put his Governour to Death who had nourish'd and bred him? After having spoke these Words in general, he turn'd himself towards his Wife, and embracing her fast in his Arms, as her Heart and Strength failing her, she was ready to sink down with Grief, he beg'd of her, for his sake, to bear this Accident with a little more Patience, telling her, that now the hour was come wherein he was to shew, not by Argument and Discourse, but by effect, the Fruit he had acquir'd by his Studies, and that he real∣ly embrac'd his Death, not only without Grief, but moreover with exceeding Joy. Wherefore my dearest, said he, do not dishonour it with thy Tears, that it may not seem as if thou lov'st thy

self more than my Reputation. Moderate thy Grief, and comfort thy self in the knowledge thou hast had of me and my Actions, leading the remainder of thy Life in the same virtuous manner thou hast hitherto done. To which Paulina, having a little recover'd her Spirits, and warm'd her Magnani∣mity with the heat of a most generous Affection, reply'd, No Seneca, said she, I am not a Woman to suffer you to go alone in such a Necessity: I will not have you think that the virtuous Examples of your Life have not yet taught me how to dye, and when can I ever better, or more decently do it, or more to my own desire, than with you? and there∣fore assure your self I will go along with you. Se∣neca then taking this noble and generous Reso∣lution of his Wife exceeding kindly at her hands, and also willing to free himself from the fear of leaving her expos'd to the Mercy and Cruelty of his Enemies after his Death: I have Paulina, said he, sufficiently instructed thee in what would serve thee happily to live; but thou more covet'st I see the Honour of dying: in truth I will not grudge it thee, the Constancy and Resolution in our common end are the same, but the Beauty and Glory of thy part is much greater. Which being said, the Chirur∣geons at the same time open the Veins of both their Arms, but being those of Seneca were more shrunk up, as well with Age as Abstinence, made his Blood to flow too slowly, he moreover commanded them to open the Veins of his Thighs; and lest the Torments he endur'd might ente∣nerate his Wives Heart, and also to free himself from the Affliction of seeing her in so sad a Con∣dition,

after having taken a very affectionate leave of her, he intreated she would suffer them to carry her into her Chamber, which they ac∣cordingly did; but all these Incisions being not yet enough to make him dye, he commanded Statius Anneus, his Physician, to give him a draught of Poison, which had not much better Effect; for by Reason of the weakness and coldness of his Limbs, it could not arrive at his Heart. Wherefore they were forc'd to superadd a very hot Bath, and then feeling his end approach, whilst he had Breath, he continued excellent Discourses upon the Subject of his present Con∣dition, which the Secretaries writ down so long as they could hear his Voice, and his last Words were long after in high Honour and Esteem amongst Men, and it was a great loss to us that they were not reserv'd down to our times. Then feeling the last pangs of Death, with the bloody Water of the Bath he bath'd his Head, saying, This Water I dedicate to Jupiter the Deliverer. Nero, being presently advertis'd of all this, fear∣ing lest the Death of Paulina, who was one of the best descended Ladies of Rome, and against whom he had no particular unkindness, should turn to his reproach, he sent back Orders in all haste to bind up her Wounds, which her Atten∣dants without his knowledge had done before; she being already half dead, and without all manner of Sence. Thus, though she liv'd con∣trary to her own design, it was very honourably, and according to her own Virtue, her pale Com∣plexion ever after manifesting how much Life was run from her Veins.

These are my three very true Stories, which I find as diverting, and as Tragick as any of those we make of our own Heads wherewith to enter∣tain the common People; and I wonder that they who are addicted to such Relations, do not rather cull out ten thousand very fine Stories, which are to be found in very good Authours, that would save them the trouble of Invention, and be more useful and diverting. And who would make a Collection of them, would need to add nothing of his own, but the Connexion only, as it were the soder of another Metal; and might by this means embody a great many true Events of all sorts, disposing and diversifying of them according as the Beauty of the Work should require, after the same manner almost as Ovid has made up his Metamorphosis of the infinite number of various Fables.

In these last couple this is moreover worthy of Consideration, that Paulina voluntarily offer'd to lose her Life for the love of her Husband,* 2.198 and that her Husband had formerly also forbore dy∣ing for the love of her. There is no just coun∣terpoise in this exchange as to us; but according to his Stoical Humour, I presume he thought he had done as much for her, in prolonging his Life upon her account, as if he had died for her. In one of his Letters to Lucilius, after he has given him to understand, that being seiz'd with an Ague in Rome, he presently took Coach to go to a House he had in the Country, contrary to his Wives Opinion, who would by all means persuade him to stay: and that he had told her,

that the Ague he was seis'd with, was not a Fe∣ver of the Body, but the Place; it follows thus. She let me go, says he, with giving me a strict charge of my Health. Now I, who know that her Life is involv'd in mine, begin to make much of my self, that I may preserve her. And I lose the priviledge my Age has given me of being more con∣stant and resolute in many things; when I call to mind, that in this old Fellow there is a young La∣dy who is interested in his Health. And since I cannot persuade her to love me more courageously, she makes me more sollicitously love my self: for we must allow something to honest Affections, and sometimes, though occasions importune us to the contrary, we must call back Life, even though it be with Torment: we must hold the Soul fast in our Teeth, since the Rule of Living amongst good men is not so long as they please, but as long as they ought: He that loves not his Wife and his Friend so well as to prolong his Life for them, but will ob∣stinately dye, is too delicate and too effeminate: the Soul must impose this upon it self, when the uti∣lity of our Friends does so require: we must some∣times lend our selves to our Friends, and when we would dye for our selves, must break that Resoluti∣on for them. 'Tis a Testimony of Grandeur of Cou∣rage to return to Life for the Consideration of ano∣ther, as many excellent Persons have done: and 'tis a mark of singular good nature to preserve old Age (of which the greatest convenience is the indif∣ferency of its duration, and a more stout and dis∣dainful use of Life) when a man perceives that this Office is pleasing, agreeable, and useful to some

Person by whom we are very much belov'd. And a man reaps by it a very pleasing Reward; for what can be more delightful than to be so dear to his Wife, as upon her account he shall become dearer to himself? Thus has my Paulina loaded me not on∣ly with her Fears, but my own; it has not been sufficient to consider how resolutely I could dye, but I have also consider'd how irresolutely she would bear my Death. I am enforc'd to live, and some∣times to live is Magnanimity. These are his own Words, as excellent as they every where use to be.

CHAP. XXXVI. Of the most Excellent Men.

IF I should be ask'd my Opinion and choice of all the men who have come to my know∣ledge, I should make answer, That methinks I find three more excellent than all the rest. One of them Homer, not that Aristotle and Varro for example, were not peradventure as learned as he; nor that possibly Virgil was not equal to him in his own Art; which I leave to be deter∣mined by such as know them both, and are best able to judge. I, who for my part, understand but one of them, can only say this, according to my poor Talent, that I do not believe the Mu∣ses themselves did ever go beyond the Roman.

Tale facit carmen docta testudine,* 2.199 quale Cynthius impositis temperat articulus.

Whilst playing to his Lute, he Verse doth sing, 'Tis like Apollo's Voice and fingering.

And yet in this Judgment we are not to forget that it is chiefly from Homer that Virgil derives his Excellence, that he is his guide and teacher; and that the Iliad only has supply'd him with body and matter out of which to compose his great and divine Aeneis. I do not reckon upon that, but mix several other Circumstances that render to me this Poet admirable, even as it were above Humane condition. And in truth, I often wonder that he who has erected, and by his Authority given so many Deities reputation in the World, was not deified himself. Being blind and poor, being that before the Sciences were reduc'd into Rule and certain Observations, he was so well acquainted with them, that all those who have since taken upon them to establish Governments, to carry on Wars, and to write either of Philosophy or Religion, of what Sect so∣ever, or of the Arts, having made use 〈◊〉〈◊〉 him as of a most perfect Instructer in the knowledge of all things, and of his Books, as of an unexhausted Treasure of all sorts of Learning,

Qui quid sit pulcrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non, Plenius, ac melius Chrysippo, ac Crantore dixit.* 2.200

Who, what's our good, what not, what brave, what base,* 2.201 Fuller than Crantor, or Chrysippus says.

and as this other says,

* 2.202—aquo ceu fonte perenni Vatum Pieriis labra rigantur aquis.

From whose ne're failing spring the Poet sips, And in Pierian Waters wets his lips.

and another,

* 2.203Adde Heliconiadum Comites, quorum unus Homerus. Astra potitus.

Of all Pretenders, Homer is alone Judg'd the most worthy of the Poets Throne.

and another,

* 2.204—cujusque ex ore profuso Omnis posteritas latices in carmina duxit, Amnemque in tenues ausa est deducere rivos, Vnius faeounda bonis.

From whose full flowing stream Posterity Have channels laid to draw out Verses by, And have made bold to draw by those out-lets The Torrent into little Rivolets, All fruitful thorough one man's Eloquence.

'Tis contrary to the order of Nature that he has made the most excellent Production that can possibly be, for the ordinary birth of things is imperfect; they usually thrive, and gather strength by growing: whereas he has rendred the Infan∣cy of Poesie and other Sciences mature, perfect,

and accomplish'd at first. And for this Reason he may be call'd the first and the last of Poets, according to the fair Testimony Antiquity has left us of him, That as there was none before him whom he could imitate, so there has been none since that could imitate him. His words, according to Aristotle, are the only words that have Motion and Action, and are the only substantial words. Alexander the Great, having found a rich Cabi∣net amongst Darius his Spoils, gave order it should be reserv'd for him to keep his Homer in: saying, that he was the best and most faithful Counsellor he had in his Military Affairs. For the same reason it was, that Cleomenes, the Son of Anaxandridas said, that the Lacedaemonian Poet was the best Master for the Discipline of War. This singular and particular Commenda∣tion is also left of him in the Judgment of Plu∣tarch, that he is the only Author in the World, that never glutted nor disgusted his Readers, presenting himself always another thing, and al∣ways flourishing in some new Grace. That wan∣ton Alcibiades, having ask'd one who pretended to Learning for a Book of Homer, gave him a box of the Ear because he had none, which he thought as scandalous, as to take one of our Priests without a Breviary. Xenophanes complain∣ed one day to Hiero, the Tyrant of Syracusa, that he was so poor he had not wherewithall to maintain two Servants; What? reply'd the Tyrant, Homer, who was much poorer than thou art, keeps above ten thousand now he is dead: What did Panctius leave unsaid when he call'd

Plato the Homer of Philosophers? Besides, what Glory can be compar'd to his? Nothing is so frequent in mens mouths as his Name and Works, nothing so known and receiv'd as Troy, Hellen, and the War about her, when perhaps there was never any such thing. Our Children are call'd by names that he feign'd above three thousand years ago. Who is ignorant of the Story of He∣ctor and Achilles? Not only some particular Families, but most Nations also seek original in his Inventions. Mahomet, the second of that Name, Emperour of the Turks, writing to our Pope Pius the second; I am astonish'd, says he, that the Italians should appear against me, considering that we have our common descent from the Trojans, and that it concerns me as well as it does them to revenge the blood of Hector upon the Greeks, whom they countenance against me. Is it not a noble Farce wherein Kings, Republicks, and Empe∣rours have so many Ages play'd their parts, and to which the vast Vniverse serves for a Thea∣ter? Seven Graecian Cities contended for his Birth, so much Honour even his obscurity help'd him to.

* 2.205Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, Athenae.

By Smyrna, Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, and Athens he claimed is.

The other is Alexander the Great. For whoever will consider the Age at which he began his En∣terprises, the small means by which he effected

so glorious a Design; the authority he obtain'd at so slender an Age with the greatest and most experienc'd Captains of the World, by whom he was follow'd, and the extraordinary favour wherewith Fortune embrac'd him, and favour'd so many hazardous, that I may not say rash De∣signs:

— impellens quicquid sibi summa petenti,* 2.206 Obstaret, gaudensque, viam fecisse ruina.

Bearing down all his high designs withstood, And pleas'd by Ruin to have made them good.

That Grandeur, to have at the Age of three and thirty years, past Victorious through the whole habitable Earth, and in half a Life to have at∣tain'd to the utmost of what humane Nature can do; so that you cannot imagine his dura∣tion just, and the continuation of his increase in Virtue and Fortune, even to a due maturity of Age, but that you must withall imagine some∣thing more than man: To have made so many Royal Branches to spring from his Souldiers; leaving the World at his death divided amongst four Successors, who were no better than Cap∣tains of his Army, whose Posterity have so long continued, and maintain'd that vast possession; so many excellent Vertues as he was master of, Justice, Temperance, Liberality, Truth in his word, Love towards his own, and Humanity towards those he overcame; for his manners in general seem in truth incapable of any manner of reproach, though some particular and extra∣ordinary

Actions of his may peradventure fall under censure. But it is impossible to carry on so great things as he did with the strict Rules of Justice; such as he are to be judg'd in gross, by the main end of their Actions. The ruin of Thebes, the murther of Menander, and of Ephe∣stion's Physician, the massacre of so many Per∣sian Prisoners at once, of a Troop of Indian Souldiers, not without prejudice to his word, and of the Cosseyans, so much as to the very Children, are indeed Sallies that are not well to be excus'd. For, as to Clytus, the fault was more than recompenc'd in his Repentance, and that very action, as much as any other what∣ever, manifests the sweetness of his nature, a nature most excellently form'd to goodness; and it was ingeniously said of him, that he had his Vertues by Nature, and his Vices by Chance. As to his being a little given to bragging, and a little too impatient of hearing himself ill spo∣ken of, and as to those Mangers, Arms, and Bits he caus'd to be strew'd in the Indies, all those little Vanities, methinks, may very well be allow'd to his Youth, and the prodigious prosperity of his fortune. And who will consi∣der withall his so many Military vertues, his Diligence, Foresight, Patience, Discipline, Sub∣tilty, Magnanimity, Resolution, and good For∣tune, wherein, (though we had not had the Au∣thority of Hannibal to assure us) he was the first of men, the admirable beauty and symme∣try of his Person even to a miracle, his maje∣stick

Port and awful Deportment, in a Face so young, so ruddy, and so radiant:

Qualis ubi Oceani perfusus Lucifer unda, Quem Venus ante alios astrorum diligit ignes,* 2.207 Extulit os sacrum coelo, tenebrasque resolvit.

Such the Day-star does from the Ocean rise Above all Lights, grateful to Venus's eyes, When he from Heaven darts his sacred light, And dissipates the sullen shades of Night.

the excellency of his Knowledge and Capacity, the duration and grandeur of his Glory, pure, clean, without spot or envy, and that long af∣ter his Death it was a religious belief, that his very Medals brought good fortune to all that carried them about them; and that more Kings and Princes have writ his Acts, than other Historians have written the Acts of any other King or Prince whatever; and that to this ve∣ry day the Mahometans, who despise all other Histories, admit of, and honour his alone, by a special Priviledge: whoever, I say, will seri∣ously consider these particulars, will confess, that all these things put together, I had reason to prefer him before Caesar himself, who alone could make me doubtful in my choice: and it cannot be deny'd, but that there was more of his own in his Exploits, and more of Fortune in those of Alexander. They were in many things equal, and peradventure Caesar had the advantage in some particular qualities. They

were two Fires; or two Torrents to over-run the World by several ways.

Et velut immissi diversis partibus ignes * 2.208Arentem in sylvam, & virgulta sonantia lauro: Aut ubi decursu rapido de montibus altis Dant sonitum spumosi amnes, & in aequora cur∣runt, Quisque suum populatus iter.

And like to Fires in several parts apply'd To a dry Grove of crackling Lawrel's side; Or like the Cataracts of foaming Rills, That tumble headlong from the highest hills To hasten to the Ocean; even so They bear all down before them where they go.

But though Caesar's ambition had been more mo∣derate, it would still he so unhappy, having the ruin of his Country, and the universal mis∣chief to the World for its abominable object; that all things rak'd together, and put into the Balance, I must needs incline to Alexander's side.

The third, in my opinion, and the most ex∣cellent of all, is Epaminondas. Of glory he has not near so much as the other two, (which al∣so is but a part of the substance of the thing) of Valour and Resolution, not of that sort which is push'd on by Ambition, but of that which Wisdom and Reason can raise in a regular Soul, he had all that could be imagin'd. Of this Ver∣tue of his, he has, in my thoughts, given as am∣ple proof, as either Alexander himself or Caesar:

for although his Expeditions were neither so frequent and so renown'd, they were yet, if duely consider'd in all their circumstances, as important, as bravely fought, and carry'd with them as manifest testimony of Valour and mili∣tary Conduct, as those of any whatever. The Greeks have done him the honour, without con∣tradiction, to pronounce him the greatest man of their Nation; and to be the first of Greece, is easily to be the first of the World. As to his Knowledge, we have this ancient judgment of him, That never any man knew so much, and spake so little as he. For he was of the Pythago∣rean Sect. But when he did speak, never any man spake better; an excellent Orator, and of powerful insinuation. But as to his Manners and Conscience, he has infinitely surpass'd all men that ever undertook the management of Affairs; for in this one thing, which ought chiefly to be consider'd, that alone truly denotes us for what we are, and that alone I counter-balance with all the rest put together, he comes not short of any Philosopher whatever, not even of Socrates himself. Innocency in this man is a quality, peculiar, sovereign, constant, uni∣form, and incorruptible, compar'd to which, it appears in Alexander subject to something else above it, uncertain, variable, effeminate, and accidental. Antiquity has judg'd, that in thorow∣ly sifting all the other great Captains, there is found in every one some peculiar quality that illustrates his Name. In this man only there is a full and equal vertue throughout, that leaves

nothing to be wish'd for in him, whether in private or publick Employment, whether in Peace or War, whether gloriously to live or dye. I do not know any Form or Fortune of Man that I so much honour and love. 'Tis true, that I look upon his obstinate Poverty, as it is set out by his best Friends, a little too scrupu∣lous and nice. And this is the only action, tho high in it self, and well worthy of admira∣tion, that I find so severe as not to desire to imi∣tate my self to the degree it was in him. The s••le Scipio Aemilianus, would any attribute to him as brave and magnificent an end, and as profound and universal a knowledge, might be put into the other Scale of the Balance. Oh! what an injury has Time done me, to deprive me of the sight of two of the most noble Lives, which, by the common consent of all the World, one the greatest of the Greeks, and the other of the Romans, were in all Plutarch. What a Mat∣ter! what a Workman! For a man that was no Saint, but, as we say, a gallant man, of civil and ordinary Manners, and of a moderate Am∣bition, the richest Life that I know, and full of the richest, and most to be desir'd Parts, all things consider'd, is, in my opinion, that of Al∣cibiades. But as to what concerns Epaminondas, I will here, for the example of an excessive good∣ness, add some of his Opinions. He declar'd, that the greatest satisfaction he ever had in his whole Life was, the contentment he gave his Father and Mother in his Victory of Leuctra; wherein his deference is great, preferring their

pleasure before his own,* 2.209 so just and so full of so glorious an Action. He did not think it lawful, even to restore the Liberty of his Country, to kill a man without knowing a cause: which made him so cold in the enterprize of his Companion Pelopidas for the relief of Thebes. He was also of Opinion, that men in Battel ought to avoid the encounter of a Friend that was on the con∣trary side, and to spare him. And his Humani∣ty even towards his Enemies themselves, having render'd him suspected to the Beotians; for that after he had miraculously forc'd the Lacedemo∣nians to open him the Pass, which they had un∣dertaken to defend at the entry into Morca, near unto Corinth, he contented himself with having charg'd thorough them, without pursuing them to the utmost, he had his Commission of Ge∣neral taken from him. Very honourably upon such an account, and for the shame it was to them upon necessity afterwards to restore him to his command, and then to see how much upon him depended their Safety and Honour: Victory like a shadow attending him wherever he went; and indeed the Prosperity of his Coun∣try, as being from him deriv'd, died with him.

CHAP. XXXVII. Of the Resemblance of Children to their Fathers.

THis fagotting up of divers pieces, is so od∣ly compos'd, that I never set Pen to Pa∣per, but when I have too much idle time, and never any where but at home; so that it is com∣pil'd at several Interruptions and Intervals, as Occasions keep me sometimes many Months abroad. As to the rest, I never correct my first by any second Conceptions; I peradventure may alter a Word or so: but 'tis only to vary the Phrase, and not to destroy my former meaning. I have a mind to represent the progress of my Humour, that every one may see every piece as it came from the Forge. I could wish I had be∣gun sooner, and had taken more notice of the course of my Mutations. A Servant of mine, that I employ'd to transcribe for me, thought he had got a prize by stealing several pieces from me, wherewith he was best pleas'd; but it is my comfort, that he will be no greater a gainer, than I shall be a loser by the Theft. I am grown old∣er by seven or eight years since I begun; nei∣ther has it been without some new Acquisition: I have in that time, by the Liberty of years, been acquainted with the Stone, a long Conversation, which time hardly wears off without some such Inconvenience. I could have been glad, that of other Infirmities Age has to present long liv'd

men, it had chosen some one that would have been more welcome to me, for it could not possibly have laid upon me a Disease, for which, even from my Infancy, I have had so great a Horror; and it is in truth of all the accidents of old Age, that of which I have ever been most afraid. I have often thought with my self, that I went on too far, and that in so long a Voyage, I should at last run my self into some misadvan∣tage; I perceiv'd, and have oft enough declar'd, that it was time to knock off, and that Death was to be cut off in the sound and living part, according to the Chirurgions Rule in Amputati∣ons. And that Nature made him pay very strict Usury, who did not in due time pay the Prin∣cipal. And yet I was so far from being ready, that in eighteen Months time, or thereabout, that I have been in this uneasie Condition, I have so inur'd my self to it, as to be content to live on in it; and have found wherein to comfort my self, and to hope: so much are men enslav'd to their miserable Being, that there is no Con∣dition so wretched they will not accept, pro∣vided they may live: according to that of Moe∣cenas.

Debilem facito manu,* 2.210 Debilem pede coxa, Lubricos quate dentes Vita dum superest, bene est.

Maim both my Hands and Feet, break Legs and Thighs, Knock out my Teeth, and bore out both my Eyes, Let me but live, all's well enough he cries.

And Tamberlain with his foolish humanity pal∣liated the fantastick cruelty he exercis'd upon Lepers, when he put all he could hear of to death, to deliver them, as he pretended, from the painful Life they liv'd. For there was not one of them who would not rather have under∣gone a triple Leprosie, than to be depriv'd of their Being. And Antisthenes the Stoick being very sick, and crying out, who will deliver me from these Evils? Diogenes, who was come to visit him, This, said he, presenting him a Knife, presently if thou wilt: I do not mean from my Life, he reply'd, but from my Disease. The suf∣ferings that only attaque the Mind, I am not so sensible of, as most other Men; and that partly out of Judgment: for the World looks upon several things as dreadful, or to be avoided at the expence of Life, that are almost indifferent to me: partly thorough a stupid and insensible Complexion I have in Accidents which do not point-blanck hit me; and that insensibility I look upon as one of the best parts of my natural Condition: but essential and corporeal pains I am very sensible of. And yet having long since foreseen them, though with a sight weak and delicate, and softned with the long and happy Health and Quiet that God has been pleas'd to give me the greatest part of my time, I had in my Imagination fancied them so insupportable, that in truth I was more afraid than I have since found I had cause: by which I am still more fortified in this belief, that most of the Faculties of the Soul, as we employ them, more trouble the

repose of Life, than they are any way useful to it. I am in conflict with the worst,* 2.211 the most sud∣den, the most painful, the most mortal, and the most irremediable of all Diseases. I have already had the tryal of five or six very long, and very painful fits, and yet I either flatter my self, or there is even in this estate what is very well to be endur'd by a man who has his Soul free from the fear of Death, and the Menaces, Conclusions and Consequences, which Physick is ever thun∣dring in our Ears. But the effect even of pain it self is not so sharp and intollerable as to put a man of understanding into impatience and despair. I have at least this advantage by my Stone, that what I could not hitherto wholly prevail upon my self to resolve upon, as to re∣conciling and acquainting my self with Death, it will perfect; for the more it presses upon and importunes me, I shall be so much the less afraid to dye. I had already gone so far as on∣ly to love Life for Life's sake, but my pain will dissolve this Intelligence: and God grant that in the end, should the sharpness of it be once greater then I shall be able to bear, it does not throw me into the other no less vicious extream, to desire and wish to dye.

Summum nec metuas diem, nec optes.* 2.212

Neither to wish, nor fear to dye.

They are two Passions to be fear'd, but the one has its remedy much nearer at hand than the other. As to the rest, I have always found

the Precept, that so exactly enjoyns a constant Countenance, and so disdainful and indifferent a Comportment in the toleration of Infirmities to be meerly Ceremonial. Why should Philoso∣phy, which only has respect to Life and its Ef∣fects, trouble it self about these external Appa∣rences? Let us leave that Care to Histrios and Masters of Rhetorick, that set so great a value upon our Gestures. Let her, in God's name, al∣low this vocal Frailty, if it be neither cordial nor stomachal to the Disease; and permit the or∣dinary ways of expressing Grief by sighs, sobs, palpitations, and turning pale, that Nature has put out of our power. And provided the Cou∣rage be undaunted, and the Expressions not soun∣ding of despair, let her be satisfied. What makes matter for the wringing of our hands, if we do not wring our Thoughts? She forms us for our selves, not for others, to be, not to seem: let her be satisfied with governing our Understandings, which she has taken upon her the care of in∣structing; that in the fury of the Cholick she maintains the Soul in a condition to know it self, and to follow its accustom'd way: contending with, and enduring, not meanly truckling under Pain; mov'd and heated, not subdu'd and con∣quer'd in the Contention; but capable of Dis∣course and other things to a certain degree. In so extream Accidents, 'tis Cruelty to require so exact a Composedness. 'Tis no great matter what Faces we cut, if we find any ease by it: if the Body find it self reliev'd by complaining, let him go too: if Agitation eases him, let him tum∣ble

and toss at pleasure; if he finds the Disease evaporate (as some Physicians hold that it helps Women in delivery) extreamly to cry out, or if it do but amuse his Torments, let him roar aloud. Let us not command this Voice to sally, but stop it not. Epicurus does not only forgive his Sage for crying out in Torments, but advises him to it. Pugiles etiam quum feriunt, in jactan∣dis caestibus ingemiscunt,* 2.213 quia profundenda voce omne corpus intenditur, venitque plaga vehemen∣tior. When men fight with Clubs, they groan in lay∣ing on, because the whole strength of Body goes along with the Voice, and the blow is laid on with greater force. We have enough to do to deal with the Disease, without troubling our selves with these superfluous Rules; which I say in ex∣cuse of those whom we ordinarily see impatient in the assaults of this Infirmity; for as to what concerns my self, I have pass'd it over hitherto with a little better Countenance, and contented my self with grunting, without roaring out. Not nevertheless, that I put any great constraint upon my self to maintain this exterior Decency, for I make little account of such an Advantage: I allow herein as much as the Pain requires, but either my Pains are not so excessive, or I have more than ordinary Patience. I complain, I con∣fess, and am a little impatient in a very sharp fit, but I do not arrive to such a degree of despair, as he who with

Ejulatu, questu, gemitu,* 2.214 fremitibus Resonando multum flebiles voces refert.

Howling, Roaring, and a thousand noises Express'd his Torment in most dismal Voices.

I relish my self in the midst of my Dolor, and have always found that I was in a Capacity to speak, think, and give a rational Answer as well as at any other time, but not so coldly and in∣differently, being troubled and interrupted by the Pain. When I am look'd upon by my Visi∣ters to be in the greatest Torment, and that they therefore forbear to trouble me, I oft try my own strength, and my self set some Discourse on foot, the most remote I can contrive from my present condition. I can do any thing upon a sudden endeavour, but it must not continue long. What pitty 'tis I have not the Faculties of that Dreamer Cicero, who dreaming he was ly∣ing with a Wench, found he had discharg'd his Stone in the Sheets! My Pains do strangely dis∣appetite me that way. In the intervals from this excessive Torment, when my Uriters only lan∣guish without any great dolor, I presently feel my self in my wonted state, forasmuch as my Soul takes no other alarm but what is sensible and corporal, which I certainly owe to the care I have had of preparing my self by Meditation against such Accidents:

— laborum * 2.215Nulla mihi nova nunc facies inopinaque surgit, Omnia praecepi, atque animo mecum ante peregi.

No face of Pain, or Labour, now can rise Which by its novelty can me surprize,

I've been accustom'd all things to explore, And been inur'd unto them long before.

I am a little roughly handled for a Learner, and with a sudden and sharp alteration, being fall'n in an instant from a very easie and happy condition of Life into the most uneasie and painful that can be imagin'd. For besides that it is a Disease very much to be fear'd in it self, it begins with me after a more sharp and se∣vere manner than it uses to do with other men. My Fits come so thick upon me, that I am scarce∣ly ever at ease; and yet I have hitherto kept my mind so upright, that provided I can still continue it, I find my self in a much better condition of Life than a thousand others, who have no Fever, nor other Disease but what they create to themselves for want of meditation. There is a certain sort of crafty Humility that springs from Presumption: as this for Example, that we confess our Ignorance in many things, and are so courteous as to acknowledge, that there are in the works of Nature some Qualities and Conditions that are imperceptible to us, and of which our understanding cannot discover the means and causes; by this honest Declarati∣on we hope to obtain that People shall also be∣lieve us of those that we say we do understand. We need not trouble our selves to seek out Mi∣racles and strange Difficulties; methinks there are so incomprehensible Wonders amongst the things that we ordinarily see, as surpass all diffi∣culties of Miracles. What a wonderful thing it

is, that the drop of Seed from which we are pro∣duc'd, should carry in it self the impression not on∣ly of the bodily Form, but even of the Thoughts and Inclinations of our Fathers? Where can that drop of Fluid matter contain that infinite num∣ber of Forms? And how can they carry on these Resemblances with so temerarious and irregular a Progress, that the Son shall be like his Great Grand-father, the Nephew like his Uncle? In the Family of Lepidus at Rome, there were three, not successively, but by intervals, that were born with the same Eye cover'd with a Cartilage. At Thebes, there was a Race that carried from their Mothers Womb the form of the head of a Launce, and who was not born so, was look'd upon as illegitimate. And Aristotle says, that in a cer∣tain Nation, where the Women were in common, they assign'd the Children to their Fathers by their resemblance. 'Tis to be believ'd that I de∣rive this Infirmity from my Father;* 2.216 for he died wonderfully tormented with a great Stone in his Bladder; he was never sensible of his Dis∣ease till the sixty seventh year of his Age, and before that had never felt any grudging or symp∣toms of it either in his Reins, Sides, or any other part; and had liv'd till then in a happy vigo∣rous state of Health, little subject to Infirmities, and continued seven years after in this Disease, and died a very painful Death. I was born above five and twenty years before his Disease seiz'd him, and in the time of his most flourishing and healthful state of Body, his third Child in order of Birth: where could his propension to this

Malady lye lurking all that while? And he being so far from the Infirmity, how could that small part of his Substance, carry away so great an impression of its share? And how so conceal'd, that till five and forty years after I did not be∣gin to be sensible of it? being the only one to this hour, amongst so many Brothers and Sisters, and all of one Mother, that was ever troubled with it. He that can satisfie me in this point, I will believe him in as many other Miracles as he pleases, always provided, that as their manner is, he does not give me a Doctrine much more intri∣cate and fantastick than the thing it self for current pay. Let the Physicians a little excuse the Liberty I take, for by this same infusion, and fatal insinuation it is that I have receiv'd a ha∣tred and contempt of their Doctrine. The An∣tipathy I have against their Art is hereditary. My Father liv'd threescore and fourteen years, my Grandfather sixty nine, my Great-Grandfather almost fourscore years, without ever tasting any sort of Physick: and with them whatever was not ordinary Diet, was instead of a Drugg. Phy∣sick is grounded upon Experience and Examples, so is my Opinion. And is not this an express and very advantageous Experience? I do not know that they can find me in all their Records three that were born, bred, and dyed under the same Roof, who have liv'd so long by their own Conduct. They must here of Necessity confess, that if Reason be not, Fortune at least is on my side, and with Physicians, Fortune goes a great deal further than Reason; let them not

take me now at a disadvantage; let them not threaten me in the subdu'd condition I now am, for that were treachery. And to say truth, I have got enough the better of them by these dome∣stick Examples, that they should rest satisfied. Humane things are not usually so constant, it has been two hundred years save eighteen that this Tryal has lasted, for the first of them was born in the Year 1402. 'Tis now indeed very good reason that this Experience should begin to fail us: let them not therefore reproach me with the Infirmities under which I now suffer; is it not enough for my part, that I have lived seven and forty years in perfect Health? Though it should be the end of my career, 'tis of the lon∣ger sort. My Ancestors had an aversion to Phy∣sick by some secret and natural instinct; for the very sight of a Potion was loathsom to my Fa∣ther. The Seigneur de Gaviac, my Uncle by the Father's side, a Churchman, and a Valetudinary from his Birth, and yet that made that crazy Life to hold out to sixty seven years; being once fall'n into a furious Fever, it was order'd by the Phy∣sicians, he should be plainly told that if he would not make use of help (for so they call that which is very often quite contrary) he would infalli∣bly be a dead man. The good man, though ter∣rified with this dreadful Sentence, yet reply'd, I am then a dead man. But God soon after made the Prognostick false. The youngest of the Bro∣thers, which were four, and by many years the youngest, the Sieur de Bussaget, was the only man of the Family that made use of Medicine,

by reason, I suppose, of the commerce he had with the other Arts, for he was a Counsellour in the Court of Parliament, and it succeeded so ill with him, that being in outward appearance of the strongest constitution, he yet died before any of the rest, the Sieur Saint Michel only excep∣ted. 'Tis possible I may have deriv'd this natu∣ral Antipathy to Physick from them; but had there been no other consideration in the case, I would have endeavour'd to have overcome it. For all conditions that spring in us without rea∣son, are vicious; and is a kind of Disease that we are to wrestle with: It may be I had natu∣rally this Propension, but I have supported and fortified it by Arguments and Reasons, which have establish'd in me the Opinion I am of. For I also hate the consideration of refusing Physick for the nauseous taste: I should hardly be of that humour, who find Health worth purchasing by all the most painful Cauteries and Incisions that can be apply'd. And, according to Epicurus, I conceive, that Pleasures are to be avoided, if greater Pains be the consequence; and Pains to be coveted, that will terminate in greater Plea∣sures. Health is a pretious thing, and the only one in truth meriting that a man should lay out, not only his time, sweat, labour, and goods, but also his Life it self to obtain it, forasmuch as without it Life is injurious to us. Pleasure, Wis∣dom, Learning, and Virtue without it wither away and vanish; and in the most queint and solid Discourses that Philosophy would imprint in us to the contrary, we need no more but op∣pose

the image of Plato, being struck with an Epilepsie or Apoplexy; and in this Presupposi∣tion to defie him to call the rich Faculties of his Soul to his assistance. All means that con∣duce to Health, can neither be too painful nor too dear to me. But I have some other Appa∣rences that makes me strangely suspect all this merchandize. I do not deny but that there may be some Art, and that there are not amongst so many works of Nature, things proper for the conservation of Health; that is most certain; I very well know there are some Simples that moi∣sten, and others that dry; I experimentally know that Radishes are windy, and Senna leaves pur∣ging; and several other such Experiences I have, which I am as sure of as I am that Mutton nou∣rishes, and Wine warms me: and Solon would say, That eating was Physick against Hunger. I do not disapprove the use we make of things the Earth produces, nor doubt in the least of the power and fertility of Nature, and disapprove not application of what she affords to our ne∣cessities: I very well see that Pikes and Swal∣lows live by her Laws; but I mistrust the Inven∣tions of Wit, Knowledge, and Art; to counte∣nance which, we have abandon'd Nature and her Rules, and wherein we keep no bounds nor mo∣deration. As we call the creation of the first Laws that fall into our hands Justice, and their practice and dispensation very foolish and very unjust: And as those who scoff at and accuse it, cannot nevertheless wrong that noble Vir∣tue, but only condemn the abuse and profana∣tion

of that sacred Title; so in Physick, I very much honour that glorious Name, and the end it is studied for, and what it promises to the service of Mankind; but what it foists upon us, I neither honour nor esteem. In the first place, Experience makes me dread it; for amongst all of my Acquaintance, I see no Race of People so soon sick, and so long before they are well, as those who take much Physick. Their very Health is alter'd and corrupted by their frequent Prescriptions. Physicians are not content to deal only with the Sick, but they will moreover cor∣rupt Health it self, for fear men should at any time escape their Authority. Do they not from a continual and perfect Health, extract suspicion of some great Sickness to ensue? I have been sick often enough, and have always found my sicknesses easie enough to be supported (though I have made tryal of almost all sorts) and as short as those of any other without their help, or without swallowing their ill tasted doses. The Health I have is full and free, without other Rule or Discipline than my own Custom and Pleasure. Every place serves me well enough to stay in, for I need no other conveniencies when I am sick than what I must have when I am well. I never disturb my self that I have no Physician, no Apothecary, nor any other Assistance, which I see most other sick men more afflicted at than they are with their Disease, What! Do they them∣selves shew us more felicity and duration in their own Lives that may manifest to us some appa∣rent effect of their Skill? There is not a Nation

in the World that has not been many Ages without Physick;* 2.217 and the first Ages, that is to say, the best and most happy, knew no such thing; and the tenth part of the World knows nothing of it yet: several Nations are ignorant of it to this Day, where men live more healthful and longer than we do here, and even amongst us the common People live well enough without it. The Romans were six hundred years before they receiv'd it; and after having made tryal of it, banish'd it from their City at the instance of Cato the Censor, who made it appear how easie it was to live without it, having himself liv'd fourscore and five years, and kept his Wife alive to an extream old Age, not without Physick on∣ly but without a Physician: for every thing that we find to be healthful to Life, may be call'd Physick. He kept his Family in health, as Plu∣tarch says, if I mistake not, with Hares milk, as Pliny reports, that the Arcadians cur'd all man∣ner of Diseases with that of a Cow; and Hero∣dotus says, the Lybians generally enjoy a rare Health, by a Custom they have after their Chil∣dren are arriv'd to four years of age, to burn and cauterize the Veins of their Head and Temples, by which means they cut off all defluxions of Rheumes for their whole lives. And the Country People of our Province make use of nothing in all sorts of Distempers but the strongest Wine they can get, mixt with a great deal of Saffron and Spice, and all with the same success. And to say the truth, of all this diversity and confusion of Apo∣thecaries Bills, what other end and effect is there

after all, but to purge the Belly? which a thousand ordinary Simples will do as well; and I do not know whether such evacuations be so much to our advantage as they pretend, and whether Nature do not require a Residence of her Ex∣crements to a certain proportion, as Wine does of its Lees to keep it alive. You oft see health∣ful men fall into Vomitings and Fluxes of the Belly by unknown Accidents, and make a great evacuation of Excrements, without any prece∣ding need, or any following benefit, but rather with hurt to their Constitution. 'Tis from the great Plato that I lately learn'd, that of three sorts of motions which are natural to us, purging is the worst, and that no man, unless he be a Fool, ought to take any thing to that purpose, but in the extreamest Necessity: Men disturb and irritate the Disease by contrary Opposi∣tions. It must be the way of living that must gently dissolve, and bring it to its maturity. The violent gripings and contest betwixt the Drug and the Disease, is ever to our loss, since the Combat is fought within our selves, and that the Drug is an Assistant not to be trusted, being in its own nature an Enemy to our Health; and but by trouble has no access into our Conditi∣on. Let it alone a little: the Providence that takes care of Fleas and Moles, does also take care for men, if they will have the same Pati∣ence Fleas and Moles have, to leave it to its self. 'Tis to much purpose that we cry out upon it, 'tis the way to make us hoarse, but not to hasten it. 'Tis a proud and uncompassionate Order, our

Fears, our Despair, displeases and stops it from, instead of inviting it to our relief. It owes as∣sistance to the Disease, as well as to Health; and will not suffer it self to be corrupted in favour of the one, to the prejudice of the others right, for it would then fall into Disorder. Let us in Gods Name follow it. It leads those that follow, and those who will not follow, it drags along both their Fury and Physick together. Order a Purge for your Brain, it will there be much better employ'd, than upon your Stomack. One asking a Lacedemonian, who had made him live so long, he made answer, the ignorance of Phy∣sick. And the Emperour Adrian continually exclaim'd as he was dying, that the croud of Physicians had kill'd him. An ill Wrestler turn'd Physician: Courage, says Diogenes to him, thou hast done well, for now thou wilt throw those who have formerly thrown thee. But they have this Advantage, according to Nicocles, that the Sun gives Light to their Success, and the Earth covers their Failures▪ and besides, they have a very advantageous way of making use of all sorts of Events: for what Fortune, Nature, or any other Causes, (of which the number is infinite) produces of good and healthful in us, it is the Priviledge of Physick to attribute to it self. All the happy Successes that happen to the Patient must be deriv'd from thence. The Occasions that have cur'd me, and thousand others, Physicians usurp to themselves, and their own Skill: and as to ill Accidents, they either absolutely disown them, in laying the fault upon the Patient, by

such frivolous and idle Reasons as they can ne∣ver be to seek for; as he lay with his Arms out of Bed, or he was disturb'd with the ratling of a Coach:

— Rhedarum transitus arcto* 2.218 Vicorum inflexu: —

He heard the Wheels and Horses trampling Feet In the straight turning of a narrow Street.

or some body had set open the Casement, or he had lain upon his left side: or had had some odd Fancies in his Head: in sum, a Word, a Dream, or a look, seem to them excuse sufficient where∣with to palliate their own Errors: Or, if they so please, they yet make use of their growing worse, and do their Business that way which can never fail them: which is, by buzzing us in the Ears, when the Disease is more inflam'd by their Medicaments, that it had been much worse but for those Remedies. He, who from an ordinary cold, they have thrown into a double Tertian-Ague, had but for them been in a continued Fe∣ver. They do not much care what Mischief they do, since it turns to their own Profit. In ear∣nest, they have Reason to require a very favou∣rable belief from their Patients, and indeed it ought to be a very easie one to swallow things so hard to be believ'd. Plato said very well, that Physicians were the only men that might lye at Pleasure, since our Health depends upon the Vanity and Falsity of their Promises.

Aesop, a most excellent Author, and of whom few men discover all the Graces, does pleasantly represent to us the tyrannical Authority Physi∣cians usurp over poor Creatures, weakned and subdued hy Sickness and Fear; for he tells us, that a sick Person, being ask'd by his Physician what Operation he found of the Potion he had given him, I have sweat very much, says the sick man; that's good, says the Physician; another time, having ask'd him him how he felt himself after his Physick, I have been very cold, and have had a great shivering upon me, said he; that is good, reply'd the Physician: After the third Po∣tion, he ask'd him again how he did, Why I find my self swell'd, and puff'd up, said he, as if I had a Dropsie. That is very well, said the Phy∣sician. One of his Servants coming presently af∣ter to inquire how he felt himself, Truly Friend, said he, with being too well, I am about to dye. There was a more just Law in Egypt, by which the Physician for the three first days was to take charge of his Patient, at the Patients own Peril and Fortune: but those three days being past, it was to be at his own. For what Reason is it, that their Patron Aesculapius should be struck with Thunder for restoring Hyppolitus from Death to Life,

* 2.219Nam pater omnipotens aliquem indignatus ab umbris Mortalem infernis, ad lumina surgere vitae Ipse repertorem medicinae talis, & artis Flumine Phaebigenam stygias detrusit ad undas.

For Jupiter, offended at the sight Of one he had struck dead, restor'd to light, He struck the Artist durst it undertake With his fork'd lightning to the Stygian Lake.

and his followers be pardoned, who send so ma∣ny Souls from Life to Death? A Physician, boasting to Nicocles that his Art was of great Authority: It is so indeed, said Nicocles, that can with impunity kill so many People. As to what remains, had I been of their Counsel, I would have render'd my Discipline more sacred and mysterious; they had begun well, but they have not ended so. It was a good beginning to make Gods and Daemons the Authors of their Science, and to have us'd a peculiar way of speaking and writing. And notwithstanding that, Philosophy concludes it folly to persuade a man to his own good by an unintelligible way:

Vt si quis medicus imperet ut sumat, Terrigenam, herbigradam, domiportam,* 2.220 sangui∣ne cassam.

as if a Physician should command his Patient to take Snails by unknown Names and Epithets. It was a good Rule in their Art, and that accom∣panies all other vain, fantastick, and supernatu∣ral Arts, that the Patients belief should prepos∣sess them with good hope and assurance of their effects and operation. A Rule they hold to that degree, as to maintain that the most inexpert

and ignorant Physician is more proper for a Pa∣tient that has confidence in him, than the most learned and experienc'd, that he is not acquaint∣ed with. Nay, even the very choice of most of their Drugs is in some sort mysterious and di∣vine. The left foot of a Tortoise, the Urine of a Lizard, the Dung of an Elephant, the Liver of a Mole, Blood drawn from under the Wing of a white Pidgeon; and for us who have the Stone, (so scornfully they use us in our Miseries) the Excrement of Rats beaten to Powder, and such like trash and fooleries, which rather carry a face of Magical Enchantment, than any solid Science. I omit the odd number of their Pills, the appointment of certain days and feasts of the year, the Superstition of gathering their Sim∣ples at certain hours: and that austere grim Countenance and haughty carriage which Pli∣ny himself so much derides. But they have, as I said, fail'd, in that they have not added to this fine beginning, the making their Meetings and Consultations more religious and secret, where no profane Person ought to have been admitted, no more than in the secret Ceremonies of Aescu∣lapius. For by Reason of this it falls out, that their irresolution, the weakness of their Argu∣ments, Divination, and Foundations, the sharp∣ness of their Disputes, full of hatred, jealousie, and particular interest, coming to be discover'd by every one, a man must be very blind not to discern that he runs a very great hazard in their Hands. Who ever saw one Physician approve of anothers Prescription, without taking some∣thing

away, or adding something to it? By which they sufficiently betray their Art, and make it manifest to us, that they therein more consider their own Reputation, and consequent∣ly their Profit, than their Patients interest. He was a much wiser man of their Tribe, who of old gave it for a Rule, that only one Physician should undertake a sick Person; for if he do nothing to purpose, one single man's default can bring no great scandal upon the Profession; and on the contrary, the glory will be great, if he happen to have good Success, whereas when there are many, they at every turn bring a dis∣repute upon their Calling, forasmuch as they of∣tener do hurt than good. They ought to be sa∣tisfied with the perpetual disagreement which is found in the Opinions of the principal Masters, and antient Authors of this Science, which is only known to men well read, without disco∣vering to the vulgar the Controversies and va∣rious Judgments which they still nourish and continue amongst themselves; shall we have one Example of the antient Controversie in Phy∣sick? Hierophilus lodges the original cause of all Diseases in the Humours; Erasistratus, in the Blood of the Arteries; Asclepiades, in the invisi∣ble Atoms of the Pores; Alcmaeon, in the Exube∣rancy, or Defect of our bodily strength; Dio∣cles, in the Inequality of the Elements of which the Body is compos'd, and in the quality of the Air we suck in; Strato, in the Abundance, Cru∣dity, and Corruption of the Nourishment we take; and Hippocrates lodges them in the Spirits.

There is a certain Friend of theirs, whom they know better than I, who declares upon this Sub∣ject, that the most important Science in Practice amongst us, as that which is intrusted with our Health and Conversation, is by ill luck the greatest misfortune, the most incertain, the most perplext, and agitated with the greatest Mutati∣ons. There is no great danger in mistaking the height of the Sun, or in the fraction of some Astronomical Supputation: but here, where our whole Being is concern'd, 'tis not Wisdom to abandon our selves to the mercy of the Agitati∣on of so many contrary Winds. Before the Pe∣loponnesian War, there was no great talk of this Science: Hippocrates brought it into Repute; and whatever he establish'd, Chrysippus over∣threw; after that, Erascistratus, Aristotle's Grand∣child, overthrew what Chrysippus had writ. Af∣ter these, the Empiricks started up, who took a quite contrary way to the Ancients in the management of this Art. When the credit of these began a little to decay, Herophilus set another sort of Practice on foot, which Ascle∣piades in turn stood up against, and overthrew. The Opinions first of Themison, and then of Musa, and after that, those of Vexius valens, a Physician famous through the Intelligence he had with Messalina, came in Vogue. The Em∣pire of Physick in Nero's time was establish'd in Thessalus, who abolish'd and condemn'd all that had been held till his time. This man's Doctrine was refuted by Crinus of Marselles, who first brought all Medicinal Operations under the

Ephemerides, and motions of the Stars, and re∣duc'd eating, sleeping, and drinking to hours that were most pleasing to Mercury, and the Moon. His Authority was soon after supplanted by Charinus, a Physician of the same City of Marselles; a Man that not only controverted all the ancient methods of Physick, but more∣over the usage of hot Baths, that had been ge∣nerally, and so many Ages before in common Use. He made men bath in cold Water even in Winter, and plung'd his sick Patients in the na∣tural Waters of every stream. No Roman till Pliny's time had ever vouchsaf'd to practise Phy∣sick, that office was only perform'd by Greeks and Foreigners, as 'tis now amongst us French, by those that sputter Latin; for, as a great Phy∣sician says, we do not easily receive the Medi∣cine we understand no more than we do the Drugs we our selves gether. If the Nations from whence we fetch our Guaiacum, Sarsaparilla, and China wood, converse with Medicine, how great a value must we imagine by the same re∣commendation of strangeness, rarity, and dear purchace, do they set upon our Cabbidge and Parsly? For who would dare to contemn things so far fetch'd, and sought out at the hazard of so long and dangerous a Voyage?

Since the ancient mutations in Physick, there have been infinite others down to our own times, and for the most part such as have been infinite, entire, and universal, as those for Exam∣ple, produc'd by Paracelsus, Fioravanti, and Ar∣genterius; for they, as I am told, do not only

alter one Receipt, but the whole Contexture and Rules of the body of Physick, accusing all others of ignorance and imposition that have pra∣ctis'd before them. At this rate, in what a con∣dition the poor Patient must be, I leave you to judge. But if we were yet assur'd, that when they mistake themselves, that mistake of theirs would do us no harm, though it do us no good, it were a reasonable bargain to venture making our selves better without any danger of being made worse. Aesop tells a Story, that one who had bought a Morisco Slave,* 2.221 believing that his black Complexion was accidental in him, and occasion'd by the ill usage of his former Master, caus'd him to enter into a course of Physick, and with great care to be often bath'd and purg'd: it hapned that the Moor was nothing amended in his tawny Complexion, but he wholly lost his former Health. How oft do we see Physici∣ans impute the death of their Patients to one another? I remember that some years ago, there was an Epidemical Disease, very dangerous, and for the most part mortal, that rag'd in the Towns about us: the storm being over, which had swept away an infinite number of men, one of the most Famous Physicians of all the Country presently after publish'd a Book upon that Subject, where∣in, upon better Thoughts, he confesses, that the letting blood in that Disease was the principal cause of so many miscarriages. Moreover, their Author's hold, that there is no Physick that has not something hurful in it. And if even those of the best Operation do in some measure offend

us, what must those do that are totally misap∣plied? For my own part, though there were nothing else in the Case, I am of Opinion, that to those that loath the taste of Physick, it must needs be a dangerous and prejudicial Endeavour to force it down at so incommodious a time, and with so much aversion, and believe that it marvellously distempers a sick Person at a time when he has so much need of Repose. And be∣sides this, if we but consider the occasions upon which they usually ground the cause of our Dis∣eases, they are so light and nice, that I thence conclude a very little Errour in the dispensati∣on of their Drugs may do a great deal of mis∣chief. Now, if the mistake of a Physician be so dangerous, we are in but a scurvy Condition; for it is almost impossible but he must often fall into those mistakes: he had need of too many parts, considerations, and circumstances, rightly to level his Design: he must know the sick Person's complexion, his temperature, his hu∣mours, inclinations, actions, nay, his very thoughts and imaginations. He must be assur'd of the external circumstances, of the nature of the Place, the quality of the Air and Season, the scituation of the Planets, and their influen∣ces: he must know in the Disease the Causes, Prognosticks, Affections, and Critical dayes; in the Druggs, the weight, the power of working, the Countrey, figures, age, and dispensations, and he must know how rightly to proportion and mix them together, to beget a just and per∣fect proportion; wherein if there be the least

error, if amongst so many Springs there be but any one out of order, 'tis enough to destroy us. God knows of how great difficulty most of these things are to be understood. For (for Ex∣ample) how shall a Physician find out the true sign of the Disease, every Disease being capa∣ble of an infinite number of Indications? How many Doubts and Controversies have they amongst themselves upon the Interpretation of Vrines? Otherwise, from whence should the continual Debates we see amongst them about the knowledge of the Disease proceed? How would we excuse the error they so oft fall into, of taking one thing for another? In the Disease I have had, were there never so little difficulty in the case, I never found three of one Opini∣on: which I instance, because I love to intro∣duce Examples wherein I am my self concern'd.

A Gentleman was at Paris lately cut for the Stone by order of the Physicians, in whose Blad∣der, being accordingly so cut, there was found no more Stone than in the palm of his Hand; and in the same place, a Bishop, who was my particular good Friend, having been earnestly prest by the major part of the Physicians in Town, whom he consulted, to suffer himself to be cut, to which also, upon their words, I us'd my interest to persuade him: when he was dead, and open'd, it appear'd that he had no Stone but in the Reins. They are least excusable for any error in this Disease, by reason that it is in some sort palpable; and 'tis by that, that I con∣clude Chirurgery to be much more certain, by

reason that it sees and feels what it does, and so goes less upon conjecture; whereas the Physici∣ans have no speculum Matricis, by which to dis∣cover our Brains, Lungs, and Liver. Even the very promises of Physick are incredible in them∣selves: for, being to provide against divers and contrary Accidents, that often afflict us at one and the same time, and that have almost a neces∣sary relation, as the heat of the Liver, and the coldness of the Stomach, they will needs per∣suade us, that of their Ingredients one will heat the Stomach, and the other will cool the Liver: one has its commission to go directly to the Reins, nay, even to the Bladder, without scatter∣ing its Operations by the way, and is to retain its Power and Virtue thorough all those stops and meanders, even to the place to the service of which it is design'd, by its own occult pro∣priety: the other will dry the Brain, and ano∣ther will moisten the Lungs. All these things being mix'd in one Potion, is it not a kind of madness to imagine or to hope that these differing Virtues should separate themselves from one ano∣ther in this mixture and confusion, to perform so many various errands? I should very much fear that they would either lose or change their Tickets, and trouble one anothers quarters: And who can imagine but that in this liquid confusion these Faculties must corrupt, confound, and spoil one another? And is not the danger still more, when the making up of this Medicine is intru∣sted to the Skill and Fidelity of another, to whose mercy we again abandon our Lives? As we have

Doublet and Breeches-makers, distinct Trades to Clothe us, and are so much the better fitted, being that each of them meddles only with his own Business, and has less to trouble his head withall than a Taylor that undertakes all; and as in matter of Diet, great Persons, for their bet∣ter convenience, and to the end they may be better serv'd, have Cooks of distinct Offices, some for Soops and Pottages, and others for Roasting, which one Cook that should undertake the whole Service, could not so well perform, so must we be treated in our Cures. The Aegyptians had reason to reject this general Trade of a Physician, and to divide the Profession to several peculiar Diseases, to every part of the Body a particular Operator. For that part was more properly, and with less confusion provided for, being they especially regarded nothing else: Ours are not aware that he who provides for all, provides for nothing, and that the entire government of this Micro∣cosme is more than they are able to undertake. Whilst they were afraid of stopping a Loosness, lest they should put him into a Fever, they kil∣led me a Friend that was worth more than the whole pack of them put altogether. They coun∣terpoise their own Divinations with the present Evils, and because they will not cure the Brain to the prejudice of the Stomach, they offend both with their mutinous and tumultuary Drugs. As to the variety and weakness of Reasons, it is more manifest in this than in any other Art. Aperitive Medicines are proper for a man subject to the Stone, by reason that opening and

dilating the Passages, they help forward the sli∣my Matter whereof Gravel and the Stone is en∣gender'd, and convey that downward which be∣gins to harden and gather in the Reins. Aperi∣tive things are dangerous for a man subject to the Stone, by reason that opening and dilating the Passage, they help forward toward the Reins the matter proper to create the Stone, which, by their own propension that way, being apt to seize it, 'tis not to be imagin'd but that a great deal of what has been so convey'd thither must remain behind. Moreover, if the Medicine hap∣pen to meet with any thing too gross to be car∣ried thorough all those narrow Passages it must pass to be expell'd, that obstruction whatever it is, being stirr'd by these aperitive things, and thrown into those narrow Passages, coming to stop them, will occasion a certain and most painful Death. They have the like constancy in the advices they give us for the regiment of Life. It is good to make water often, for we ex∣perimentally see, that in letting it lye long in the Bladder, we give it time to settle the Sedement which will concreate into a Stone: It is good not to make water often, for the heavy Excre∣ments it carried along with it will not be voi∣ded without violence, as we see by experience, that a Torrent that runs with force, washes the ground it rowls over much clearer than the course of a slow and tardy Stream. Likewise it is good to have often to do with Women, for that opens the Passages and helps to evacuate Gravel: It is also very ill to have often to do

with Women, because it heats, tires, and wea∣kens the Reins. It is good to bath frequently in hot waters, forasmuch as that refreshes and mol∣lifies the place where the Gravel and Stone lye; and it is also ill, by reason that this application of external heat helps the Reins to bake, harden, and petrifie the Matter so dispos'd. For those who are at the Bath, it is most healthful to eat little at Night, to the end that the Waters they are to drink the next Morning may have a bet∣ter Operation upon an empty Stomach; on the contrary, it is better to eat little at Dinner, that it hinder not the Operation of the Waters, which is not yet perfect, and not to oppress the Stomach so soon after the other labour, but leave the office of digestion to the Night, which will much better perform it than the Day, where the Body and Soul are in perpetual moving and action; thus do they juggle and cant in all their Discourses at our expence, and cannot give me one Proposition against which I cannot erect a contrary of equal force. Let them then no lon∣ger exclaim against those, who in this trouble of Sickness suffer themselves to be gently guided by their own Appetite, and the advice of Na∣ture, and commit themselves to the common For∣tune. I have seen in my Travels almost all the famous Baths of Christendom, and for some years past have begun to make use of them my self, for I look upon bathing as generally wholsom, and believe that we suffer no little inconvenien∣ces in our Health, by having left off the Custom that was generally observ'd in former times al∣most

by all Nations, and is yet in many, of bathing every day; and I cannot imagine but that we are much the worse by having our Limbs crust∣ed, and our Pores stopt with dirt and filth. And as to the drinking of them, Fortune has in the first place render'd them not at all unacceptable to my taste; and secondly, they are natural and simple, which at least carry no danger with them though they do us no good. Of which, the infi∣nite croud of People of all sorts of Complexions that repair thither, I take to be a sufficient war∣ranty: And although I have not there observ'd any extraordinary and miraculous Effects; but that on the contrary, having more narrowly than ordinary enquir'd into it, I have found all the reports of such operations that have been spread abroad in those Places, ill grounded and false, and those that believe them (as People are willing to be gull'd in what they desire) de∣ceiv'd in them; yet I have seldom known any that have been made worse by those Waters, and a man cannot honestly deny but that they beget a better Appetite, help Digestion, and do in some sort revive us, if we do not go too late and in too weak a Condition, which I would dissuade every one from doing. They have not the virtue to raise men from desperate and inve∣terate Diseases, but they may help some light In∣disposition, or prevent some threatning Altera∣tion. Who does not bring along with him so much cheerfulness as to enjoy the pleasure of the Company he will there meet, and of the Walks and Exercises, to which the amenity of

those Places invite us, will doubtless lose the best and surest part of their Effect. For this rea∣son I have hitherto chosen to go to those of the most pleasant Scituation, where there was the best conveniency of Lodging, Provision, and Company, as the Baths of Bavieres in France, those of Plombieres in the Frontiers of Germany and Lorrain, those of Baden in Swizerland, those of Lucque in Tuscany, and especially those Della-Villa, which I have the most, and at several Sea∣sons frequented. Every Nation has particular Opinions touching their Use, and several Rules and Methods in using them, and all of them, ac∣cording to what I have seen almost of like Ef∣fect. Drinking of them is not at all receiv'd in Germany; they bath for all Diseases only, and will lye dabling in the Water almost from Sun to Sun. In Italy, when they drink nine days, they bath at least thirty, and commonly drink the Water mixt with some other Drugs to make it work the better. We are here order'd to walk to digest it, there they are kept in bed after ta∣king it till it be wrought off, their Stomachs and Feet having continually hot cloths apply'd to them all the while: and as the Germans have a particular practise generally to use Cupping and Scarification in the Bath: So the Italians have their Doccie, which are certain little Chan∣nels of this hot Water brought thorough Pipes, and with them bath an hour in the Morning, and as much in the Afternoon for a Month to∣gether, either the Head, Stomach, or any other part where the Grief lies. There are infinite

other varieties of Customs in every Country, or rather, there is no manner of resemblance to one another. By which you may see, that this little part of Physick, to which I have only sub∣mitted, though the least depending upon Art of all others, has yet a great share of the confusion and incertainty every where else manifest in their Profession. The Poets say whatever they please with greater Emphasis and Grace; witness these two Epigrams.

Alcon hesterno signum Jovis attigit illa* 2.222 Quamvis marmoreus, vim patitur medici: Ecce hodie jussus transferri ex aede vetusta, Effertur, quamvis sit Deus, atque Lapis.

Alcon did yesterday Joves Statue touch, Which, although Marble, suffer'd by it much: For to day order being given it shou'd Be taken from th' old Temple where it stood, The thing without further delay was done, Although he was a God, and made of Stone.

and the other,

Lotus nobiscum est hilaris, coenavit & idem,* 2.223 Inventus mane est mortuus Andragoras, Tam subitae mortis causam Faustine requiris? In somnis medicum viderat Hermocratem.

Andragoras bath'd, sup'd, and went well to bed Last Night, but in the Morning was found dead;

Would'st know, Faustinus, what was his Disease? He dreaming saw the Quack, Hermocrates.

Upon which I will relate two Stories: The Ba∣ron of Caupene in Chalosse, and I, have betwixt us the Advouzon of a Benefice of great extent, at the foot of our Mountains call'd Lahontan. It is with the Inhabitants of this Angle, as 'tis said of those of the Vale of Angrougne; they liv'd a peculiar sort of Life, their Fashions, Cloths, and Manners distinct from other People, rul'd and govern'd by certain particular Laws and Vsances, receiv'd from Father to Son, to which they submitted, without other constraint than the Reverence to Custom. This little State had continued from all Antiquity in so happy a Condition, that no neighbouring Judge was ever put to the trouble of enquiring into their do∣ings, no Advocate ever retain'd to give them Counsel, nor Stranger ever call'd in to compose their Differences; nor was ever any of them seen to go a begging. They avoided all Alliances and Traffick with the other World, that they might not corrupt the Purity of their own Go∣vernment; till, as they say, one of them, in the memory of man, having a mind spurr'd on with a noble Ambition, contriv'd to bring his Name into Credit and Reputation, to make one of his Sons something more than ordinary, and having put him to learn to write, made him at last a brave Town Clerk: This Fellow being grown up, began to disdain their ancient Customs, and

to buz into the Peoples Ears the pomp of the other parts of the Nation. The first prank he plaid, was, to advise a Friend of his, that some body had offended by sawing off the Horns of one of his Goats, to make his Complaint to the Kings Judges thereabout, and so he went on in this Practice, till he spoil'd and confounded all. In the tail of this Corruption, they say, there happened another, and of worse consequence, by means of a Physician, who fell in love with one of their Daughters, had a mind to marry her, and to live amongst them. This man first of all began to teach them the names of Fevers, Rheums and Imposthumes, the Seat of the Heart, Liver, and Intestines, a Science till then utterly unknown to them; and instead of Garlick, with which they were wont to cure all manner of Diseases, how painful or extream soever, he taught them, though it were but for a Cough, or any little Cold, to take strange mixtures, and began to make a Trade, not only of their Healths, but of their Lives. They swear that till then they never perceiv'd the Evening Air to be offensive to the Head, that to drink when they were hot was hurtful, and that the Winds of Autumn were more unwholesome than those of the Spring; that since this use of Physick, they find them∣selves opprest with a Legion of unaccustom'd Diseases, and that they perceive a general decay in their wonted Vigour, and their Lives are cut shorter by the half. This is the first of my Sto∣ries.

The other is, that before I was afflicted with the Stone, hearing that the Blood of a He-Goat was with many in very great esteem, and look'd upon as a Coelestial Manna rain'd down upon these latter Ages for the good and Preservation of the Lives of Men, and having heard it spoken of by men of Understanding for an admirable Drug, and of infallible Operation: I, who have ever thought my self subject to all the accidents that can befall other men, had a mind in my perfect health to furnish my self with this admi∣rable Medicine, and therefore gave order to have a Goat fed at home according to the Re∣ceipt: for he must be taken in the hottest Month of all Summer, and must only have aperitive Herbs given him to eat, and White-wine to drink. I came home by chance the very day he was to be kill'd; and one came and told me, that the Cook had found two or three great Balls in his Paunch, that rattled against one another amongst what he had eaten: I was curious to have all his Entrals brought before me, where, having caus'd the Skin that inclos'd them to be cut, there tumbled out three great lumps, as light as Spunges, so that they appear'd to be hollow; but as to the rest, hard and firm with∣out, and spotted and mixt all over with various dead colours. One was perfectly round, and of the bigness of an ordinary Bowl, the other two something less, of an imperfect roundness, as seeming not to be arriv'd at their full growth. I find by inquiry of People accustom'd to open these Animals, that it is a rare and unusual acci∣dent.

'Tis likely these are Stones of the same Nature with ours; and if so, it must needs be a very vain hope in those who have the Stone, to extract their Cure from the Blood of a Beast who was himself about to dye of the same Di∣sease. For to say that the Blood does not par∣ticipate of this Contagion, and does not alter its wonted Virtue, it is rather to be believ'd, that nothing is ingendred in a Body but by the Conspiracy and Communication of all the Parts: the whole mass works together, though one part contributes more to the work than another, ac∣cording to the diversity of Operations. Where∣fore it is very likely that there was some petri∣fying quality in all the parts of this Goat. It was not so much for fear of the future, and for my self, that I was curious of this Experiment, but because it falls out in mine, as it does in ma∣ny other Families, that the Women store up such little Trumperies for the service of the Peo∣ple, using the same Receipt in fifty several Di∣seases, and such a Receipt as they will not take themselves, and yet triumph in their good Suc∣cesses. As to what remains, I honour Physicians, not according to the common rule, for Necessi∣ty, (for to this Passage may be added another of the Prophet, reproving King Asa for having recourse to a Physician) but for themselves, ha∣ving known many very good men of that Pro∣fession, and most worthy to be believ'd. I do not attaque them, 'tis their Art I inveigh against, and do not much blame them for making their Ad∣vantage of our Folly, for most men do the same.

Many Callings, both of greater and less Dignity than theirs, have no other Foundation or Sup∣port than publick abuse. When I am sick I send for them, if they be near, only to have their Company, and fee them as others do. I give them leave to command me to keep my self warm, because I naturally love to do it, and to appoint Leeks or Lettuce for my Broth, to order me White-wine or Claret, and so all other things at their own Pleasure, which are indifferent to my Palat and Custom. I know very well that I do nothing for them in so doing, because sharp∣ness and ill pleasing tastes are accidents of the very Essence of Physick.* 2.224 Licurgus order'd Wine for the sick Spartans: Why? because they abo∣minated the drinking of it when they were well: as a Gentleman, a Neighbour of mine, takes it for a rare Medicine in his Fever, because that naturally he mortally hates the taste. How many do we see amongst them of my Humour, that despise taking Physick themselves, are men of a liberal Diet, and live a quite contrary sort of Life to what they prescribe others? What is this but flatly to abuse our Simplicity. For their own Lives and Healths are no less dear to them than ours are to us, and consequently they would accomodate their Effects to their own Rules, if they did not themselves know how false they are. 'Tis the fear of Death, and of Pain, an impatience of the Disease, and a violent and indiscreet desire of a present Cure that so blinds us: and pure Cowardize that makes our belief so plyable and easie to be im∣pos'd

upon: and yet most men do not so much believe as they acquiesce and permit, for I hear them find fault and complain as well as we: But they resolve at last; What should I do then? As if Impatience were of it self a better Remedy than Patience. Is there any one of those who have suffer'd themselves to be perswaded into this miserable Subjection, that does not equally surrender himself to all sorts of Impostures? Who does not give up himself to the mercy of whoever has the impudence to promise him a Cure?* 2.225 The Babylonians carried their sick into the publick Place, the Physician was the People, where every one that pass'd by, being in huma∣nity and civility oblig'd to enquire of their Condition, gave some advice according to his own Experience. We do little better, there be∣ing not so silly a Woman whose Charms and Drenches we do not make use of, and according to my Humour, if I were to take Physick, I would sooner choose to take theirs than any other, because, at least, if they do no good they will do no harm. What Homer and Plato said of the Aegyptians, that they were all Physicians, may be said of all People; there is no one that does not boast of some rare Receipt, and who will not venture it upon his Neighbour if he will permit him. I was the other day in Company where some one of my * 2.226 fraternity told us of a new sort of Pills made up of a hundred and odd Ingredients: it made us very merry, and was a singular Consolation, for what Rock could withstand so great a battery? And yet I hear

by those who have made tryal of it, that the least atom of Gravel will not stir for't. I can∣not take my hand from the Paper before I have added a word or two more concerning the as∣surance they give us of the infallibility of their Drugs, and the Experiments they have made.

The greatest part, and I think above two thirds of the medicinal Virtues consist in the Quintes∣sence, or occult propriety of Simples, of which we can have no other instruction than Use and Custom. For Quintessence is no other than a Qua∣lity of which we cannot by our Reason find out the cause. In such Proofs, those they pretend to have acquir'd by the inspiration of some Daemon, I am content to receive (for I meddle not with Miracles) as also the Proofs which are drawn from things that upon some other account oft fall into use amongst us; as if in Wool, wherewith we are wont to clothe our selves, there have ac∣cidentally some occult desiccative Propriety been found out of curing kib'd Heels, or as if in the Radish we eat for Food, there have been found out some aperitive Operation. Galen reports, that a Man hapned to be cur'd of a Leprosie by drinking Wine out of a Vessel into which a Viper had crept by chance. In which Ex∣ample, we find the means, and a very likely guide and conduct to this Experience; as we also do in those Physicians pretend to have been directed to by the Example of some Beasts. But in most of their other Experiments, wherein they declare to have been conducted by For∣tune, and to have had no other guide than

Chance, I find the Progress of this Information incredible. Suppose man looking round about him upon the infinite number of things, Plants, Animals, and Metals, I do not know where he would begin his tryal; and though his first fan∣cy should fix him upon an Elk's horn, wherein there must be a very gentle and easie belief, he will yet find himself perplex'd in his second Ope∣ration. There are so many Maladies, and so many Circumstances laid before him, that be∣fore he can arrive at the certainty of the point, to which the perfection of his Experience should arrive, humane sence will be at the end of its lesson: and before he can, amongst this infinity of things, find out what this Horn is amongst so many Diseases, what the Epilepsie, the many Complexions in a melancholick Person, the ma∣ny Seasons in Winter, the many Nations in the French, the many Ages in Age, the many Coele∣stial Mutations in the Conjunction of Venus and Saturn, and the many Parts in mans Body, nay, in a Finger: and being in all this directed nei∣ther by Argument, Conjectures, Example, nor Divine Inspirations, but meerly by the sole mo∣tion of Fortune; it should be by a perfectly artificial, regular, and methodical Fortune. And after the Cure is perform'd, how can he assure himself that it was not because the Disease was arriv'd at its period, or an effect of Chance? or the Operation of something else that he had ea∣ten, drunk, or touch'd that day? or by Virtue of his Grand-mothers Prayers? And moreover, had this Experiment been perfect, how many

times was it reiterated, and this long beadrole of Fortunes and Encounters strung anew from Chance to conclude a certain Rule? And when the Rule is concluded, by whom I pray you? Of so many millions, there are but three Men who take upon them to record their Experi∣ments. And must Chance needs just meet one of these? What if another, and a hundred others have made contrary Experiments? We might, peradventure, have some light in this, were all the Judgments and Arguments of men known to us. But that three witnesses, three Doctors, should Lord it over all Mankind is against all reason. It were fit that humane Nature should have deputed and cull'd them out, and that they were declar'd our Comptrollers by express Let∣ters of Attorney.

To Madam de Duras.

Madam, The last time you honour'd me with a Visit, you found me at work upon this Chap∣ter, and being it may happen that these trifles may one day fall into your Ladiships hands, I will also that they testifie in how great honour the Author will take any Favour you shall please to shew them. You will there find the same air and behaviour you have observ'd in his Conver∣sation, and though I could have borrow'd some better or more favourable garb than my own, I would not have done it, for I require nothing more of these Writings, but to present me to

your Memory, such as I naturally am. The same Conditions and Faculties your Ladiship has been pleas'd to frequent and receive with much more Honour and Courtesie than they deserve, I will put together. (but without alteration) in one solid Body, that may peradventure continue some years, or some days after I am gone; where you may find them again when your Ladiship shall please to refresh your Memory, without putting you to any greater trouble, neither are they worth it. I desire you should continue the favour of your Friendship to me, by the same Qualities by which it was acquir'd; and am not ambitious that any one should love and esteem me more dead than living. The Humour of Ty∣berius is ridiculous, but yet common, who was more sollicitous to extend his Renown to Po∣sterity than to render himself acceptable to men of his own time. If I was one of those to whom the World could owe commendation, I would acquit the one half to have the other in hand, that their praises might come quick and crow∣ding about me, more thick than long, more full than durable; and let them cease on God's Name with my knowledge, and when the sweet sound can no longer pierce my Ears. It were an idle Humour to go about, now that I am going to forsake the commerce of Men, to offer my self to them by a new Recommendation. I make no account of the Goods I could not employ in the Service of my Life. And such as I am, I will be elsewhere than in Paper: My Art and Industry have been ever directed to render me good for

something; and my Studies, to teach me to do, and not to write. I have made it my whole bu∣siness to frame my Life. This has been my Trade and my Work. I am less a writer of Books than any thing else. I have coveted so much under∣standing for the Service of my present and real Conveniences, and not to lay up a stock for my Posterity. Who has any thing of Value in him, let him make it appear in his Manners, in his ordinary Discourses, in his Courtships, and his Quarrels, in Play, in Bed, at Table, in the ma∣nagement of his Affairs, in his Oeconomy. Those that I see make good Books in ill Breeches, should first have mended their Breeches, if they would have been rul'd by me. Ask a Spartan, whether he had rather be a good Orator or a good Soul∣dier; and if I was ask'd the same Question, I would rather chuse to be a good Cook, had I not one already to serve me. Good God! Madam, how should I hate the Reputation of being a pretty Fellow at Writing, and an Ass and a Sot in every thing else. Yet I had rather be a Fool in any thing than to have made so ill a Choice wherein to employ my Talent. And I am so far from expecting to gain any new Reputation by these Follies, that I shall think I come off pret∣ty well if I lose nothing by it of that little I had before. For besides that this dead painting will take from my natural Being, it has no re∣semblance to my better Condition, but also much laps'd from my former Vigour and Chearfulness, and looks faded, and wither'd. I am towards the bottom of the Barrel, which begins to taste

of the Lees. And to the rest, Madam, I should not have dar'd to make so bold with the Myste∣ries of Physick, considering the esteem that your Ladiship, and so many others have of it, had I not had encouragement from their own Authors, Pliny, and Celsus. If these ever fall into your hands, you will find that they speak much more rudely of their Art than I do; I but pinch it, they cut the Throat on't. Pliny, amongst other things, twits them with this, That when they are at the end of the Rope, that is, when they have done the utmost of what they are able to do, they have a pretty device to save themselves, of recommending their Patients, whom they have teaz'd and tormented with their Drugs and Di∣ets to no purpose, some to Vows and Miracles, and others to the hot Baths and Waters. (Be not angry, Madam, he speaks not of those in our Parts, who are under the Protection of your House, and all Gramontins.) They have besides another way of saving their own Credit, of rid∣ding their hands of us, and securing themselves from the reproaches we might cast in their Teeth of the little amendment, when they have had us so long in their hands, that they have not one more Invention left wherewith to amuse us; which is, to send us to the better Air of some other Country. This, Madam, is enough; I hope you will give me leave to return to my former Discourse, from which I have so far digrest, the better to divert you.

It was, I think, Pericles, who being ask'd how he did, you may judge, says he, by these, showing

some little Scrowls of Parchment he had tyed about his Neck and Arms. By which he would inferr, that he must needs be very sick when he was reduc'd to a Necessity of having recourse to such idle and vain Fopperies, and of suffering himself to be so equip'd. I dare not promise but that I may one day be so much a Fool as to commit my Life and Death to the Mercy and Government of Physicians; I may fall into such a Frenzy: I dare not be responsible for my fu∣ture Constancy: but then, if any one ask me how I do, I may also answer, as Pericles did, You may judge by this, showing my hand clutch'd up with six drams of Opium: it will be a very evi∣dent sign of a violent sickness: and my Judg∣ment will be very much out of Order. If once fear and impatience get such an Advantage over me, it may very well be concluded that there is a dreadful Fever in my Mind. I have taken the pains to plead this Cause, which I little enough understand, a little to back and support the na∣tural aversion to Drugs and the Practice of Phy∣sick, I have deriv'd from my Ancestors: to the end it may not be a meer stupid and temerarious aversion, but have a little more Form; and also, that they who shall see me so obstinate in my Resolution against all Exhortations and Menaces that shall be given me, when my Infirmity shall press hardest upon me, may not think 'tis meer Obstinacy in me; or any one so ill natur'd, as yet to judge it to be any motive of Glory: For it would be a strange ambition to seek to gain Honour by an Action my Gardiner or my Groom

can perform as well as I. Certainly, I have not a Heart so tumorous and windy, that I should ex∣change so solid a Pleasure as Health, for an airy and imaginary Pleasure. Glory, even that of the four Sons of Aymon, is too dear bought to a man of my Humour, if it cost him three swinging fits of the Stone. Give me Health in Gods Name! Such as love Physick, may also have good, great, and convincing Considerations; I do not hate Opinions contrary to my own. I am so far from being angry to see a discrepancy betwixt mine and other mens Judgments, and from rendring my self unfit for the Society of Men, for being of another Sence and Party than mine; that on the contrary, (the most general way that Na∣ture has follow'd being Variety, and more in Souls than Bodies, forasmuch as they are of a more supple substance, and more susceptible of Forms) I find it much more rare to see our Humours and Designs jump and agree. And there never was in the World two Opinions alike, no more than two Hairs, or two Grains. The most Universal Quality, is Diversity.

The End of the Second Book.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Irresoluti∣on the most common Vice of our Nature.
• * 1.2

  Aulus Gel. ex Pub. Min.
• * 1.3

  Instability of our manners and opini∣ons.
• * 1.4

  Augustus.
• * 1.5

  Hor. l. 1. G. 1.
• * 1.6

  Id. lib. 2. Sat. 7.
• * 1.7

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.8

  Cicero.
• * 1.9

  A Maid threw her self out of a window for fear of a Rape.
• * 1.10

  Hor. lib. 2. Ep. 2.
• * 1.11

  Id. Ibid.
• * 1.12

  Cicero. Tusc. 2.
• * 1.13

  The Valour of Alexan∣der ex∣tream in its kind.
• * 1.14

  Cicer.
• * 1.15

  Sen. Epist. 120.
• * 1.16

  Tib. lib. 2. Erg. 1.
• * 1.17

  Hor. lib. 1. Sat. 3.
• * 1.18

  The Ger∣mans great Drinkers.
• * 1.19

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.20

  Virg. Eg••. 6.
• * 1.21

  Juve••. Sat. 13.
• * 1.22

  Cornel. Gall. Epig. 1.
• * 1.23

  Horace. lib. 3. Ode. 21.
• * 1.24

  Drinking to a de∣bauch in Vse a∣mongst the best gover∣ned Nati∣ons.
• * 1.25

  Delicacy to be avoi∣ded in Wine.
• * 1.26

  A Cha∣racter of the Au∣thors Fa∣ther.
• * 1.27

  Marvellous Chastity of the Age wherein the Au∣thors Fa∣ther lived.
• * 1.28

  One of the names of Bacchus.
• * 1.29

  Hor. lib. 3. Ode. 23.
• * 1.30

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.31

  Terence.
• * 1.32

  Virg. 6.
• * 1.33

  Cicero. Tusc. l. 5.
• * 1.34

  Aenied. l. 4.
• * 1.35

  To Philo∣sophize, what?
• * 1.36

  Several Accidents worse to suffer than Death.
• * 1.37

  Senec. The. Act. 1. Sca. 1.
• * 1.38

  Death de∣pends up∣on the Will.
• * 1.39

  Aeneid. lib. 6.
• * 1.40

  Hor. lib. 4. Ode. 4.
• * 1.41

  Sen. Th. Act. 1. Scen. 1.
• * 1.42

  Mart. lib. 11. Epig. 57.
• * 1.43

  Hor. lib. 3. Ode. 3.
• * 1.44

  Mar. lib. 2. Epig. 80.
• * 1.45

  Lucan. lib. 7.
• * 1.46

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.47

  Ignomini∣ous sepul∣ture of self homicides.
• * 1.48

  Idem Ibid.
• * 1.49

  Sulpitii Servasti.
• * 1.50

  Josep. An∣tiq. Jews. p. 537.
• * 1.51

  Montluc Comment.
• * 1.52

  Sen. Ep. 13.
• * 1.53

  Aeneid. lib. 11.
• * 1.54

  Macchab. l. 2. Cap. 14.
• * 1.55

  The utility of the French Plutarch.
• * 1.56

  Negligence the opposite vice to Cu∣riosity.
• * 1.57

  Juven. Sat. 13.
• * 1.58

  Strange discovery of a Parri∣cide.
• * 1.59

  Erasm. Adag.
• * 1.60

  Virg. Ge••. lib. 4.
• * 1.61

  Lucret. lib. 5.
• * 1.62

  Juven. Sat. 13.
• * 1.63

  Ovid. Fast. lib. 1.
• * 1.64

  The confi∣dent inno∣cency of Scipio.
• * 1.65

  Pub. Sy. min. de dolore.
• * 1.66

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.67

  Luc. lib. ••.
• * 1.68

  Sleep the Image of Death.
• * 1.69

  T••sso. Cant. ••••
• * 1.70

  Tasso. Cant. 8.
• * 1.71

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.72

  Ovid Tust. lib. 1. Eleg. 3.
• * 1.73

  Aeneid. lib. 4.
• * 1.74

  Id. lib. 10.
• * 1.75

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.76

  Ovid. Trist. lib. 1. Eleg. 3.
• * 1.77

  Orders of Knight∣hood insti∣tuted to reward Military Vertue.
• * 1.78

  The Order of Saint Michel.
• * 1.79

  Mart. lib. 2. Epig. 82.
• * 1.80

  Valour of the Citi∣zens of Sparta.
• * 1.81

  The Order of the Holy Ghost.
• * 1.82

  The affe∣ction of Parents towards their Chil∣dren, grea∣ter than that of Children towards them; and why?
• * 1.83

  Young men given to filching.
• * 1.84

  Gascon's generally addicted to stealing.
• * 1.85

  Terence. Adelph. Act. 1. S••e. 1.
• * 1.86

  The Age of Marriage.
• * 1.87

  The Vse of Women e∣nervates young Men▪
• * 1.88

  Tasso. Cant. 10.
• * 1.89

  Hor. lib. 1. Ep. 1.
• * 1.90

  Ter. Adel. ac. 4. Scen. 2.
• * 1.91

  The Au∣thor seems to hint, that the Judges were young Men them∣selves.
• * 1.92

  The an∣cient Gauls n••ver per∣mitted their Sons to present themselves before them, till they came to bear Arms.
• * 1.93

  The Sa••ick Law ne∣ver seen by any.
• * 1.94

  Goats trained to give suck to Chil∣dren.
• * 1.95

  Books im∣mortal Children.
• * 1.96

  His Ro∣mance of Theagi∣nes and Cariclea.
• * 1.97

  Cordus's Writings condemn'd to the Fire.
• * 1.98

  Ovid. Me∣ta. lib. 10.
• * 1.99

  Li. lib. 5.
• * 1.100

  Aeneid lib. 6.
• * 1.101

  Aristo. Cant. 12.
• * 1.102

  Arms of the Roman Infantry, and their Militiary Discipline.
• * 1.103

  Cicero: Thus: lib. 2.
• * 1.104

  Arms of the Par∣thians.
• * 1.105

  Claud. in Ruff. lib. 2.
• * 1.106

  Prob. lib. 4. Eleg. 1.
• * 1.107

  Censure of Virgil▪
• * 1.108

  And Lu∣can.
• * 1.109

  Of Te∣rence.
• * 1.110

  Of Lucre∣tius.
• * 1.111

  Catullus Epig. 40.
• * 1.112

  Of Te∣rence.
• * 1.113

  Compari∣son be∣twixt Ca∣tullus and Martial. Mart. prae lib. 8.
• * 1.114

  Virg. Georg. 4.
• * 1.115

  The Cha∣racters of Plutarch and Sene∣ca.
• * 1.116

  Censure of Cicero.
• * 1.117

  And of Plato.
• * 1.118

  Cicero de Sencet.
• * 1.119

  Caesar's Com. com∣mended.
• * 1.120

  Froissard.
• * 1.121

  Censure of Guicciar∣din.
• * 1.122

  And of Philip de Com∣mines.
• * 1.123

  Inclina∣tions to Goodness.
• * 1.124

  Thai Ver∣tue cannot be exerci∣sed without some diffi∣culty.
• * 1.125

  Sen. Epist. 25.
• * 1.126

  The Vertue of Socra∣tes.
• * 1.127

  The noble Death of Cato ac∣companied with Plea∣sure.
• * 1.128

  Cicero. Thuse. lib. 1.
• * 1.129

  Caesar.
• * 1.130

  Hor. lib. 1. Ode 37.
• * 1.131

  Cicero de Offic. lib. 1.
• * 1.132

  Vertue turn'd into Habit in Cato and Socrates.
• * 1.133

  Italians subtile and quick of Apprehen∣sion.
• * 1.134

  Germans and Suisses Logger∣heads.
• * 1.135

  Aeneid. 11
• * 1.136

  Horat. lib. 1. Sat. 6.
• * 1.137

  Horat. lib. 2. Ode. 17.
• * 1.138

  Ju. sat, 8.
• * 1.139

  The Plea∣sure of the Chace, What
• * 1.140

  Hor. Ep. 2.
• * 1.141

  Julius Cae∣sar's Cle∣mency.
• * 1.142

  St. Luke Chap. 12. v. 40.
• * 1.143

  The severe Laws of Persia, moderated by Artax∣erxes.
• * 1.144

  Hogs Sa∣crificed in Figure to the Divine Justice by the Egyp∣tians.
• * 1.145

  The Cruel∣ties exer∣cised in Civil Wars.
• * 1.146

  Sen. de Clem.
• * 1.147

  Aeneid. l. 7.
• * 1.148

  Beasts brought alive by Pythago∣ras to turn out.
• * 1.149

  Ovid. Met. lib. 15.
• * 1.150

  Pythago∣ras his Transmu∣tation of Souls. Id ibid.
• * 1.151

  Clad. in Ruff. lib. 2.
• * 1.152

  Ovid. Met. lib. 15.
• * 1.153

  Beasts re∣ver'd for Gods by some of the An∣cients.
• * 1.154

  Juven. sat. 15.
• * 1.155

  Learning brought in to esteem by Francis the First in France.
• * 1.156

  Sebonde.
• * 1.157

  Lucr. lib. 5.
• * 1.158

  What Books are proper to translate.
• * 1.159

  Object. a∣gainst Se∣bonde's Book the first.
• * 1.160

  The mar∣vellous effects of lively Faith.
• * 1.161

  Incerto.
• * 1.162

  Vertue, the particular mark of Christian Religion.
• * 1.163

  God assists our Faith and Reli∣gion, not our Pas∣sions.
• * 1.164

  Proposi∣tion, Whe∣ther it be Lawful to take Arms against the King in defence of Religion.
• * 1.165

  Lucret. 13.
• * 1.166

  Bion an Atheist.
• * 1.167

  What A∣theism is.
• * 1.168

  Divinity imprinted on the out∣ward Fa∣brick of the World.
• * 1.169

  The World a Sacred Temple.
• * 1.170

  Manil. l. 4
• * 1.171

  Wisdom only be∣longs to the Divinity.
• * 1.172

  Heroicum Adagium.
• * 1.173

  1 Pet. 55.
• * 1.174

  The Wis∣dom of the World, fol∣ly with God.
• * 1.175

  Cicer. de Nat. Deo lib. 2.
• * 1.176

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.177

  Manil. l. 3.
• * 1.178

  Id. lib. 1.
• * 1.179

  Id. lib. 4.
• * 1.180

  Id. ibid.
• * 1.181

  Cic. de Nat. Deo. l. 1.
• * 1.182

  Sen de ira: lib. 2. cap. 9.
• * 1.183

  Commu∣nication of Beasts amongst themselves
• * 1.184

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.185

  Ibid.
• * 1.186

  Aminta del Tasso.
• * 1.187

  Nature above Art.
• * 1.188

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.189

  The Skin of a Man sufficient proof a∣gainst Weather.
• * 1.190

  The An∣cients us'd to wear their Bo∣som open. The swa∣thing of Infants not necessary.
• * 1.191

  Ibid.
• * 1.192

  Lucret. l. 2.
• * 1.193

  The Natu∣ral Arms of Men.
• * 1.194

  The Ele∣phants Teeth.
• * 1.195

  Refibility attributed to Beasts.
• * 1.196

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.197

  Why Men naturally deaf, speak not.
• * 1.198

  Ibid.
• * 1.199

  Ibid.
• * 1.200

  Tib. l. 1. Eleg. 10.
• * 1.201

  Obsequies of the Scy∣thian Kings.
• * 1.202

  Juvenal. Sat. 14.
• * 1.203

  Elephants wearing Cymbals.
• * 1.204

  Elephants taught to dance.
• * 1.205

  A Story of a Magpye at Rome.
• * 1.206

  The Cun∣ning of a Dog, to get the Oyl out of a Jar.
• * 1.207

  The Sub∣tlety of Ele∣phants, to disengage one ano∣ther.
• * 1.208

  An Ele∣phant dis∣covers the Cheet of his Keeper.
• * 1.209

  Juvenal. sat. p.
• * 1.210

  Mart. l. 4. Epig. 30.
• * 1.211

  Elephants participate of Religi∣on.
• * 1.212

  Communi∣cation of Ants.
• * 1.213

  Change of colour in the Came∣leon and Polypus.
• * 1.214

  Augurie the most certain way of Pre∣diction.
• * 1.215

  Plutarch.
• * 1.216

  Lucret. l. 4.
• * 1.217

  Ibid.
• * 1.218

  The love of Dogs to their Masters.
• * 1.219

  Hor. lib. 2. Sat. 2.
• * 1.220

  Animals more regu∣lar than we.
• * 1.221

  Ovid. Me∣tam. lib. 10.
• * 1.222

  Wars be∣twixt Bees.
• * 1.223

  Virg. Georg. lib. 4.
• * 1.224

  Lucret. lib. 2.
• * 1.225

  Horat. lib. 2. Epist. 2.
• * 1.226

  Laws of Asia about the Loves of Paris and Helen.
• * 1.227

  Mart. l. 11. Epig. 21.
• * 1.228

  Aeneid, lib. 7.
• * 1.229

  Virg. Aen. lib. 4.
• * 1.230

  Virg. Ge∣or. lib. 4.
• * 1.231

  The Seige of Tamly rais'd by Bees.
• * 1.232

  Dogs re∣venge the Death of their Ma∣sters.
• * 1.233

  The Fide∣lity of a Dog in per∣suing a Sacrile∣gious per∣son.
• * 1.234

  The Gra∣titude of a Lyon to∣wards a Slave.
• * 1.235

  Weeping of Beasts for the loss of those we love.
• * 1.236

  Virg. Eneid. lib. 11.
• * 1.237

  Society a∣mongst Beasts.
• * 1.238

  A Fish that chews.
• * 1.239

  Magnani∣mity of an Indian Dog.
• * 1.240

  Repen∣tance of an Elephant.
• * 1.241

  Marvel∣lous condi∣tion of the Halcyons.
• * 1.242

  The stru∣cture of their Nests, and the matter whereof they are built.
• * 1.243

  Lucret. l. 4.
• * 1.244

  Ibid.
• * 1.245

  Ibid.
• * 1.246

  Propert. lib. 2. Eleg. 13.
• * 1.247

  Beauty of the In∣dians.
• * 1.248

  White Teeth despis'd.
• * 1.249

  Senec. Epist. 124.
• * 1.250

  Ovid. Met. lib. 2.
• * 1.251

  Cic. de Nat. Deor. lib. 1. ex Ennio.
• * 1.252

  Ovid. de Rem. Amor. l. 2.
• * 1.253

  Health the best and richest Gift of Nature.
• * 1.254

  Cicero's two Po∣tions.
• * 1.255

  Cicero de Nat. Deor. l. 3. simile.
• * 1.256

  Horat. Ep. 8.
• * 1.257

  Juv. Sat. 14.
• * 1.258

  Humility and Sub∣mission the Parents of Virtue.
• * 1.259

  Gen. 3.
• * 1.260

  Coloss. c. 2.
• * 1.261

  Horat. l. 1. Epist. 1.
• * 1.262

  Lucr. l. 5.
• * 1.263

  Temerity, and Pre∣sumption of some Philoso∣phers.
• * 1.264

  Cicero de Nat. Deor. l. 3.
• * 1.265

  Cic. Tu∣sc. l. 2.
• * 1.266

  Diseases caus'd by Imagina∣tion.
• * 1.267

  Ariosto.
• * 1.268

  Lucret.
• * 1.269

  Cicer. Thus. l. 2.
• * 1.270

  Cicer. Thus. l. 3.
• * 1.271

  Proverb.
• * 1.272

  Cicero de Fin. l. 2.
• * 1.273

  Cic. de Fin. lib. 1.
• * 1.274

  Lucr. l. 3.
• * 1.275

  Senec. Oed. Act. 3.
• * 1.276

  Horat. Ep. ib. 1.
• * 1.277

  Horat. l. 2. Epist. 2.
• * 1.278

  Learning and Wis∣dom ac∣companied with Trou∣ble.
• * 1.279

  Cicer. Thus. l. 2.
• * 1.280

  Horat. l. 2. Epist. 2.
• * 1.281

  Luc. l. 3.
• * 1.282

  Plutarch.
• * 1.283

  How Love is to be cured.
• * 1.284

  The Lace∣demonian Policy without Letters.
• * 1.285

  The new World without Law or Magi∣strate.
• * 1.286

  Ariosto. Can. 15.
• * 1.287

  Sir John Harrring∣ton Trans.
• * 1.288

  Socrates apud Sto∣baeum.
• * 1.289

  Div. Aug. l. 2. de ord.
• * 1.290

  Tacit. de mor. Germ.
• * 1.291

  Cice in Freg.
• * 1.292

  Lucr. l. 5.
• * 1.293

  Cicer. de Nat. Deo∣rum.
• * 1.294

  1 Cor. Ch. 1. Ver. 19, 20, 21.
• * 1.295

  Cicer. Acad. lib. 1.
• * 1.296

  Cicero Acad.
• * 1.297

  Lucret▪ l. 3.
• * 1.298

  Lucret. l. 4.
• * 1.299

  Mr. Creech
• * 1.300

  Ataraxie what.
• * 1.301

  Doubt and suspence of Judgment, the princi∣pal Effect of Pyrrho∣nisme.
• * 1.302

  Cicer. Acad.
• * 1.303

  The Im∣mortality of the Soul maintain∣ed by Ari∣stotle.
• * 1.304

  Cicer. de Divin. l. 61.
• * 1.305

  Psal. 94.
• * 1.306

  Cicero Thus lib. 1.
• * 1.307

  Cicero in Timaeo.
• * 1.308

  Cicero de Nat. Deo. lib. 1.
• * 1.309

  Obscure.
• * 1.310

  Lueret. l. 1.
• * 1.311

  The liberal Art de∣spis'd.
• * 1.312

  Sal. de Bel∣lo Jug.
• * 1.313

  Call'd Wise Wo∣men in French.
• * 1.314

  Plutarch.
• * 1.315

  Wisdom c. 9. v. 14.
• * 1.316

  Seneca. Epist. 89.
• * 1.317

  Incerto.
• * 1.318

  What the Knowledg of God was amongst the Pa∣gans.
• * 1.319

  The un∣known God ador'd at Athens.
• * 1.320

  Numa's Religion.
• * 1.321

  Ronsard.
• * 1.322

  Cicer. de Divin. l. 2. ex Ennio.
• * 1.323

  Lucret. lib. 5.
• * 1.324

  Cicer. de Nat. Deo. lib. 2.
• * 1.325

  Per. Sat. 2.
• * 1.326

  Aeneid. l. 6.
• * 1.327

  1 Cor. 2.9.
• * 1.328

  Ovid. Trist. l. 3. El. 11.
• * 1.329

  Lucret. l. 1▪
• * 1.330

  Ibid.
• * 1.331

  Ibid.
• * 1.332

  Ibid.
• * 1.333

  Ibid.
• * 1.334

  Aeneid. lib. 10.
• * 1.335

  Zamolxis the God of the Getes.
• * 1.336

  Sacrifice of 14▪ young men.
• * 1.337

  Lucr. l. 1.
• * 1.338

  Carthagi∣nian Chil∣dren sacri∣fic'd to Sa∣turn.
• * 1.339

  Ibid.
• * 1.340

  Cicero de Nat. Deo. lib. 3.
• * 1.341

  Div. Aug. de Cicitat. Dei. lib. 6. cap. 10.
• * 1.342

  Lucr. l. 1.
• * 1.343

  1. Cor. c. 1. v. 25.
• * 1.344

  Lucr. l. 6.
• * 1.345

  Lucr. l. 2.
• * 1.346

  Ibid.
• * 1.347

  Ibid.
• * 1.348

  Motion of things be∣low denyed.
• * 1.349

  Hor. Car. l. 3. Ode. 29.
• * 1.350

  Lord Fan∣shaw.
• * 1.351

  Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 2.
• * 1.352

  Cicero de Nat. Deor. lib. 3.
• * 1.353

  Cicer. de Nat. Deo. lib. 1.
• * 1.354

  Rom. 1. v. 22, 23.
• * 1.355

  Luan. l. 1.
• * 1.356

  Lucan. l. 1.
• * 1.357

  Heaven God's Pa∣lace.
• * 1.358

  The Go∣vernment of the World.
• * 1.359

  Hor. l. 2. Sat. 3.
• * 1.360

  Cicero de Nat. Deor. lib. 1.
• * 1.361

  Ibid.
• * 1.362

  Hor. l. 2. Ode. 12.
• * 1.363

  Aeneid. l. 2.
• * 1.364

  Liv. l. 27.
• * 1.365

  Aen. l. 1.
• * 1.366

  Cicero de Div. l. 2.
• * 1.367

  Ovid. Fast. lib. 3.
• * 1.368

  Ibid. l. 1.
• * 1.369

  Ovid. Met. lib. 1.
• * 1.370

  Ovid. Me. l. 8.
• * 1.371

  Aug. de Civit. Dei. l. 4. cap. 27.
• * 1.372

  Geometry how far useful.
• * 1.373

  Ovid. Met. lib. 2.
• * 1.374

  Varro in Catal.
• * 1.375

  Cicero in Academ.
• * 1.376

  Cicero de Divinat. lib. 2.
• * 1.377

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 12.
• * 1.378

  Plin. l. 2. Cap. 37.
• * 1.379

  St. Aug. de spir. & anim.
• * 1.380

  Lucret. lib. 1.
• * 1.381

  Aeneid. lib. 9.
• * 1.382

  Aeneid. lib. 9.
• * 1.383

  Lucret. lib. 6.
• * 1.384

  Cicero in Philos.
• * 1.385

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.386

  Ibid.
• * 1.387

  Cicer. Thus. l. 1.
• * 1.388

  The Atoms of the Epi∣cureans. What.
• * 1.389

  Cicero de Divin. l. 1.
• * 1.390

  Claud. in Paneg. de Consal. Hon.
• * 1.391

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.392

  Virg. Geor. lib. 4.
• * 1.393

  Hor. lib. 4▪ Ode. 4.
• * 1.394

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.395

  Ibid.
• * 1.396

  Ibid.
• * 1.397

  Ibid.
• * 1.398

  Ibid.
• * 1.399

  Ibid.
• * 1.400

  Ibid.
• * 1.401

  Ibid.
• * 1.402

  Ibid.
• * 1.403

  Ibid.
• * 1.404

  Ibid.
• * 1.405

  Cicero de Div. l. 2.
• * 1.406

  Ibid.
• * 1.407

  Vice pu∣nished by the Di∣vine Ju∣stice after Death.
• * 1.408

  Cic. Acad. lib. 4.
• * 1.409

  1 Cor. 1.••19.
• * 1.410

  Seneca. Epist. 117.
• * 1.411

  Cicero. Thus. l. 1.
• * 1.412

  Virg. l. 6.
• * 1.413

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 1.414

  Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 2. cap. 1.
• * 1.415

  Proverb.
• * 1.416

  Cicero.
• * 1.417

  Sign of Cruelty,
• * 1.418

  Of a mise∣rable Death,
• * 1.419

  Of Vn∣chastity.
• * 1.420

  Ovid. Met. lib. 10.
• * 1.421

  Simile.
• * 1.422

  Ovid. Tr. lib. 1. El. 2.
• * 1.423

  Cic. Acad. lib. 4.
• * 1.424

  Lucret. lib. 5.
• * 1.425

  Cicero ex Incerto.
• * 1.426

  Hor. l. 2. Ode. 26.
• * 1.427

  Catullus.
• * 1.428

  Cicero. Thus. l. 4.
• * 1.429

  Cicero. Ibid. l. 5.
• * 1.430

  Aeneid. lib. 11.
• * 1.431

  Lucr. l. 5.
• * 1.432

  Why new Opinions are to be rejected.
• * 1.433

  Aristotle's Principles in Vogue.
• * 1.434

  Ibid.
• * 1.435

  Several Opinions concerning the World.
• * 1.436

  Apuleius.
• * 1.437

  Circumci∣sion.
• * 1.438

  St. An∣drew his Cross.
• * 1.439

  A Cross ador'd for the God of Rain.
• * 1.440

  The Crea∣tion of the World.
• * 1.441

  The day of Judg∣ment.
• * 1.442

  Dwarfs at the Tables of Princes.
• * 1.443

  Divers sorts of Games.
• * 1.444

  Adoration of one God made man.
• * 1.445

  A new sort of Purgatory.
• * 1.446

  Veget. l. 1. cap. 2.
• * 1.447

  Cicero. de Fato.
• * 1.448

  Juv. stat. 10.
• * 1.449

  Socrates his Prayer.
• * 1.450

  Ibid.
• * 1.451

  Ovid Me∣tam. lib. 11.
• * 1.452

  The Order of St. Mi∣chel of high esteem in France.
• * 1.453

  Psal. 23.
• * 1.454

  Juven. Sat. 10.
• * 1.455

  Cicero de fi∣nibus. lib. 5.
• * 1.456

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 2.
• * 1.457

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 6.
• * 1.458

  Character of Justus Lipsius.
• * 1.459

  Apollo.
• * 1.460

  Natural Laws.
• * 1.461

  Ovid. Met. lib. 10.
• * 1.462

  The bodies of their de∣ceased Fa∣thers eaten by some People, and why.
• * 1.463

  Theft al∣lowed by Lycurgus, and why.
• * 1.464

  A perfum'd Robe refu∣sed by Pla∣to, and ac∣cepted by Aristippus.
• * 1.465

  Aeneid. lib. 3.
• * 1.466

  Solon's Tears for the death of his Son.
• * 1.467

  The mour∣ning of So∣crates his Wife.
• * 1.468

  Juven. Sat. 15.
• * 1.469

  Cicero, Thus. lib. 5.
• * 1.470

  Laws au∣thoriz'd by Customs.
• * 1.471

  Mart. lib. 3. Epig. 68.
• * 1.472

  Mart. lib. 1. Epig. 74.
• * 1.473

  The Embra∣ces of the Cynicks impudent, and in open Sight.
• * 1.474

  The purest way of Speaking, capable of various In∣terpretati∣ons.
• * 1.475

  The Philo∣sophers Stone ap∣proved.
• * 1.476

  Homer the general Leader of all sorts of People.
• * 1.477

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 1.478

  Ibid. l. 4.
• * 1.479

  Doubt whether man have all his Senses.
• * 1.480

  Ibid.
• * 1.481

  Ibid.
• * 1.482

  Lucret. lib. 5.
• * 1.483

  Id. lib. 4.
• * 1.484

  Ibid.
• * 1.485

  Ibid.
• * 1.486

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.487

  Ibid.
• * 1.488

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.489

  The Voice, the flower of Beauty.
• * 1.490

  Ovid. de Remedio Amo. l. 1.
• * 1.491

  Ovid. Met. lib. 3.
• * 1.492

  Mr. Sandys.
• * 1.493

  Ovid. Met. lib. 10.
• * 1.494

  Cicero de Divin. lib. 1.
• * 1.495

  Aeneid. l.
• * 1.496

  Lucret. l. 4.
• * 1.497

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.498

  Ibid.
• * 1.499

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.500

  The Life of a Man com∣pared to a Dream.
• * 1.501

  Ibid.
• * 1.502

  Ibid.
• * 1.503

  Mr. Creech. Jaundies.
• * 1.504

  Hyposphrag∣ma.
• * 1.505

  Ibid.
• * 1.506

  Ibid.
• * 1.507

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.508

  Id. lib. 3.
• * 1.509

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.510

  Id. l. 4.
• * 1.511

  Mr. Creech.
• * 1.512

  Idem. lib. 5.
• * 1.513

  Time a mo∣ving thing without permanency.
• * 1.514

  No very resolute assurance at the arti∣cle of death.
• * 1.515

  Aeneid. l. 3.
• * 1.516

  Lucret. l. 1.
• * 1.517

  Lucan. l. 1·
• * 1.518

  The Suns Mourning for the Death of Caesar.
• * 1.519

  Virgil. Georg. l. 1.
• * 1.520

  Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. 2· c. 8.
• * 1.521

  Lucan. l. 2.
• * 1.522

  Id. l. 4.
• * 1.523

  Cice. Thus. lib. 1.
• * 1.524

  The con∣stant and resolute Death of Socrates.
• * 1.525

  The death of Pomponi∣us Atticus, by Fasting.
• * 1.526

  Horat. in Arte Poet.
• * 1.527

  Death bravely confronted by Cato.
• * 1.528

  Plin. l. 2. c. 7.
• * 1.529

  Senec. Ep. 98.
• * 1.530

  Ovid. Am. lib. 2. El. 19.
• * 1.531

  Sen. de Ben. lib. 7. cap. 9.
• * 1.532

  Mart. lib. 4. Epig. 38.
• * 1.533

  Hor. Epod. 11.
• * 1.534

  Lucret. l. 4.
• * 1.535

  Hor. l. 1. sat. 2.
• * 1.536

  Mr. Alex. Brome.
• * 1.537

  Ovid. Amo. l. 2. El. 19.
• * 1.538

  Terence.
• * 1.539

  Ovid. Amo.
• * 1.540

  Propert.
• * 1.541

  Virg. Eg. 3.
• * 1.542

  Propert. l. 2. ••leg. 12.
• * 1.543

  Ovid. Amo. lib. 2. El. 19.
• * 1.544

  Rutilius in Itinerario.
• * 1.545

  Senec. Epist. 68.
• * 1.546

  St. Luke, chap. 2.
• * 1.547

  Plutarch.
• * 1.548

  Juven. Sat. 7.
• * 2.1

  Cicero very ambitious of Glory.
• * 2.2

  Hor. l. 4. Ode. 9.
• * 2.3

  Cicero de off. l. 3.
• * 2.4

  Salust.
• * 2.5

  Cicero de off. l. 1.
• * 2.6

  Corin. 2. chap. 1. ver. 12.
• * 2.7

  Orlando. Canto. 11.
• * 2.8

  By Sir Tho▪ Hawkins,
• * 2.9

  Cicero▪
• * 2.10

  Honour what is it.
• * 2.11

  Elian. Varro.
• * 2.12

  Cic. de Fin.
• * 2.13

  Ovid Epist. penult.
• * 2.14

  Perseus Sat. 1.
• * 2.15

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 16.
• * 2.16

  R. F.
• * 2.17

  Perseus Sat. 1.
• * 2.18

  Ibidem.
• * 2.19

  Juven. sat. 13.
• * 2.20

  Aeneid. l. 7.
• * 2.21

  The Muses sacrific'd unto by the Lacedaemo∣nians, and why.
• * 2.22

  Aeneid. l. 5.
• * 2.23

  Seneca.
• * 2.24

  Cicero de Nat. Deor.
• * 2.25

  Lucan. lib. 1.
• * 2.26

  Cicero de fin. lib. 2.
• * 2.27

  Ovid. Amo. l. 3. El. 4.
• * 2.28

  Hor. lib. 2. Sat. 1.
• * 2.29

  Sir Richard Fenshaw.
• * 2.30

  Tacitus.
• * 2.31

  Presumpti∣on divided into two parts.
• * 2.32

  Horace de Arte Poet.
• * 2.33

  Ben John∣son.
• * 2.34

  Mart. l. 12. Epig. 64.
• * 2.35

  Ovid de Ponto, lib. 1. Eleg. 6.
• * 2.36

  Montaigns Stile.
• * 2.37

  Hor. Ar. Poet.
• * 2.38

  Lucret. l. 5.
• * 2.39

  Mr. Creech.
• * 2.40

  Virgil. Aeneid. l. 7.
• * 2.41

  Psal. 4.8.
• * 2.42

  The Au∣thors Sta∣ture.
• * 2.43

  Mart.
• * 2.44

  Lucret. l. 2.
• * 2.45

  Mr. Creech.
• * 2.46

  Hor. lib. 2. Epist. 2.
• * 2.47

  J. D.
• * 2.48

  Id. lib. 2. Sat. 2.
• * 2.49

  Alexander Brome.
• * 2.50

  Juven▪ Sat. 3.
• * 2.51

  Horace. l. 2. Epist. 2.
• * 2.52

  J. D.
• * 2.53

  Hor. l. 1. Epist. 6.
• * 2.54

  Alexander Brome.
• * 2.55

  Seneca. Agamem∣non.
• * 2.56

  Terence.
• * 2.57

  Prop. l. 1. Eleg. 2.
• * 2.58

  Seneca. Agara.
• * 2.59

  Horace. l. 1. Epist. 1.
• * 2.60

  Sir Ri∣chard Fen∣shaw.
• * 2.61

  Prope••
• * 2.62

  Proverb.
• * 2.63

  Juven. sat. 13.
• * 2.64

  Cicero.
• * 2.65

  Lying con∣demn'd.
• * 2.66

  Cicero. de off. l. 1.
• * 2.67

  Memory ve∣ry useful to the Judg∣ment.
• * 2.68

  Memory quite lost.
• * 2.69

  Ter. Eunu. act. 1. sc. 2.
• * 2.70

  Cicero.
• * 2.71

  The Au∣thor's Me∣mory.
• * 2.72

  His Appre∣hension.
• * 2.73

  His Sight.
• * 2.74

  Mart. l. 13. Epig. 2.
• * 2.75

  The picture of Rene King of Si∣cily drawn by himself.
• * 2.76

  Terence. Andr. Act. 1. Scen. 3.
• * 2.77

  Act. 1.
• * 2.78

  Cicero. acad. lib. 4.
• * 2.79

  Tibullus. l. 4.
• * 2.80

  Horace. l. 2. Epist. 2.
• * 2.81

  Juvenal.
• * 2.82

  Plaut.
• * 2.83

  Perseus. sat. 4.
• * 2.84

  Cicero de offic. lib. 1.
• * 2.85

  Enemies ho∣nour'd by the Persians for their Virtue.
• * 2.86

  Praise of Stephen Boetius.
• * 2.87

  Horace. l. 2. Sat. 3.
• * 2.88

  Mr. Alex∣ander Brome.
• * 2.89

  Lactant. Instit. l. 2.
• * 2.90

  Hor. lib. 1. sat. 4.
• * 2.91

  Mr. Alex∣ander Brome.
• * 2.92

  Perseus. sat. 5.
• * 2.93

  D. August. de Civit. l. 1. cap. 1.
• * 2.94

  Mart. Catullus▪
• * 2.95

  Mar••t con∣tre Sagoin.
• * 2.96

  Lying an Argument of the Con∣tempt of God.
• * 2.97

  Plaut.
• * 2.98

  The Cha∣racter of the Empe∣rour Julian the Apo∣state.
• * 2.99

  His Chasti∣ty.
• * 2.100

  His Justice.
• * 2.101

  His Sobri∣ety.
• * 2.102

  His Vigi∣lancy.
• * 2.103

  His Milita∣ry Experi∣ence.
• * 2.104

  The re∣makable Death of the Empe∣ror Julian.
• * 2.105

  Liberty of Consci∣ence.
• * 2.106

  Lucret. l. 4••
• * 2.107

  Seneca. Ep. 74.
• * 2.108

  Ovid. Trist.
• * 2.109

  Catullus. Ep. 14.
• * 2.110

  Senec. Ep. 70.
• * 2.111

  Tacit. An∣nal. lib. 14.
• * 2.112

  Livie.
• * 2.113

  Post-horses first set up by Cyrus.
• * 2.114

  Livius.
• * 2.115

  Pigeons taught to carry Let∣ters.
• * 2.116

  Juvenal. sat. 6.
• * 2.117

  Catullus.
• * 2.118

  Prudentius.
• * 2.119

  Ibid.
• * 2.120

  Idem.
• * 2.121

  Manil.
• * 2.122

  Statius.
• * 2.123

  Claud.
• * 2.124

  Mart. Epig. 28. lib. 1.
• * 2.125

  Mart. l. 12. Epig
• * 2.126

  Hora. l. 1. Ep. 18.
• * 2.127

  Juven. Sat. 3.
• * 2.128

  Claud.
• * 2.129

  Ovid Trist. lib. 3. Eleg. 5.
• * 2.130

  Duels com∣mon in the Kingdom of Narsin∣gua.
• * 2.131

  Pollio's Li∣bel against Plancus.
• * 2.132

  The Lye reveng'd with a box of the Ear.
• * 2.133

  Eneid. l. 11.
• * 2.134

  Tasso. Can. 12.
• * 2.135

  Mr. Fair∣fax.
• * 2.136

  The Art of cuffing in∣terdicted by Plato.
• * 2.137

  Cowards naturally cruel and bloody.
• * 2.138

  Claud.
• * 2.139

  Juven. sat. 6.
• * 2.140

  Hor. l. 2. Ode. 18.
• * 2.141

  Sir Thomas Hawkins▪
• * 2.142

  Sen. Epist.
• * 2.143

  Eneid. l. 4.
• * 2.144

  Gall. Eleg.
• * 2.145

  What an old man's study ought to be.
• * 2.146

  Tib. lib. 4. Eleg. pen.
• * 2.147

  Propertius. l. 3. Eleg. 11.
• * 2.148

  The Gym∣nosophists voluntarily burnt.
• * 2.149

  Causes of Events in the presci∣ence of Al∣mighty God.
• * 2.150

  Fortuitous and volun∣tary Causes.
• * 2.151

  Assasinati∣on of the Prince of Orange.
• * 2.152

  The Duke of Guise.
• * 2.153

  Cicero. de Divin. l. 2.
• * 2.154

  Cicero. de Divin. l. 2.
• * 2.155

  Juvenal. Sat. 6.
• * 2.156

  Juvenal. Sat. 14.
• * 2.157

  Ovid. de Art. lib. 3.
• * 2.158

  Censure of Cicero and Sene∣ca.
• * 2.159

  Plutarch reproach'd for Anger by a Slave of his.
• * 2.160

  That Cor∣rection ne∣ver ought to be given in Anger.
• * 2.161

  Aeneid. l. 7.
• * 2.162

  Seneca. Epist. 57.
• * 2.163

  Claudian.
• * 2.164

  Aeneid. lib. 12.
• * 2.165

  The Au∣thors An∣ger in great and little Occasions.
• * 2.166

  Bodinus a good Au∣thor.
• * 2.167

  The Bow∣els of a La∣cedemonian Boy torn out by a Fox-cub.
• * 2.168

  The Pati∣ence of the Lacedaemo∣nian Chil∣dren.
• * 2.169

  Thievery odious to the Spar∣tans.
• * 2.170

  Thievery very much practic'd by the Egyptians.
• * 2.171

  Fortitude of a Spanish Peasant.
• * 2.172

  Death of Epicaris.
• * 2.173

  Or light-horse.
• * 2.174

  Women obstinate.
• * 2.175

  Agesilaus mulcted by the Ephori for insinu∣ating him∣self into the Heart of the Peo∣ple.
• * 2.176

  Caesar very ambitious.
• * 2.177

  Caesar cal∣led Drun∣kard.
• * 2.178

  Venus ac∣companies Bacchus.
• * 2.179

  Caesar's Clemency towards his Ene∣mies.
• * 2.180

  Ambition the only ruine of Caesars Actions.
• * 2.181

  Aeneid. lib. 10.
• * 2.182

  The Obe∣dience of Caesar's Souldiers.
• * 2.183

  Lucan. l. 5.
• * 2.184

  Exhortati∣ons to Soul∣diers be∣fore a Bat∣tel of great impor∣tance.
• * 2.185

  Caesar's promptness in his Ex∣peditions.
• * 2.186

  Lucan. lib. 5. Virg. Aen. lib. 12.
• * 2.187

  Lucan. lib. 4.
• * 2.188

  Horat. lib. 4. Ode. 14.
• * 2.189

  Sir Thomas Hawkins.
• * 2.190

  The great Resolution of Caesar in several oc∣casions.
• * 2.191

  Monstrous Armies of no great Effect.
• * 2.192

  That great numbers of Men cause Confusion.
• * 2.193

  Souldiers Mercenary.
• * 2.194

  Fidelity of the Garri∣son of Sa∣lona.
• * 2.195

  Virg. Georg. lib. 2.
• * 2.196

  The Story of the death of Arria, the Wife of Cecinna Petus.
• * 2.197

  Mart. lib. 1. Epig. 14.
• * 2.198

  Seneca's great Af∣fection to his Wife.
• * 2.199

  Proper. l. 2. Eleg. ult.
• * 2.200

  Hor. lib. 1. Epist. 2.
• * 2.201

  Sir Rich. Fenshaw.
• * 2.202

  Ovid. Amo. lib. 3. Eleg. 8.
• * 2.203

  Lucret. lib. 3.
• * 2.204

  Manil. Astro••▪
• * 2.205

  Aul. Gellius.
• * 2.206

  Lucan li. 1.
• * 2.207

  Aeneid. lib. 8.
• * 2.208

  Aeneid. lib. 12.
• * 2.209

  Humanity of Epami∣nondas.
• * 2.210

  Seneca Epist. 101.
• * 2.211

  The Stone the most painful of all Disea∣ses
• * 2.212

  Mart. l. 10. Epig. 47.
• * 2.213

  Cicero Thusc. l. 2.
• * 2.214

  Ibid.
• * 2.215

  Aeneid. l. 6.
• * 2.216

  The Au∣thor's Fa∣ther afflict∣ed with the Stone.
• * 2.217

  Physick unknown to many Nations.
• * 2.218

  Juvenal. Sat. 3.
• * 2.219

  Aeneid. lib. 7.
• * 2.220

  Cicero de Divin. l. 2.
• * 2.221

  A Moor bath'd and purg'd to clear his Comple∣xion.
• * 2.222

  Auson Epig.
• * 2.223

  Mart. Epig.
• * 2.224

  Wine pre∣scrib'd for the sick Spartans.
• * 2.225

  The sick Persons of Babylon ex∣pos'd in the market place.
• * 2.226

  Meaning that was troubled vvith the Stone.