Man become guilty, or, The corrruption of nature by sinne, according to St. Augustines sense written originally in French by Iohn-Francis Senault ; and put into English by ... Henry, Earle of Monmouth.

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Title
Man become guilty, or, The corrruption of nature by sinne, according to St. Augustines sense written originally in French by Iohn-Francis Senault ; and put into English by ... Henry, Earle of Monmouth.
Author
Senault, Jean-François, 1601-1672.
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London :: Printed for William Leake ...,
1650.
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Subject terms
Augustine, -- Saint, Bishop of Hippo.
Sin -- Early works to 1800.
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http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A59160.0001.001
Cite this Item
"Man become guilty, or, The corrruption of nature by sinne, according to St. Augustines sense written originally in French by Iohn-Francis Senault ; and put into English by ... Henry, Earle of Monmouth." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A59160.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed April 27, 2025.

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Page 109

OF THE CORRUPTION OF THE VERTUES: The Third Treatise: (Book 3)

The First Discourse.

A Panegyrick of Morall Vertues.

IF a man may use Civility in combating, and if the Fury of War keep not men from treating their enemies with respect, I think I may be permitted to handle the vertue of the Pagans with esteem, and to make the Panegyrick thereof, before I make it's processe, for though I hold with Saint Augustine that their chiefest vertues have their defects, a 1.1 I do not∣withstanding find beauties in them, wch obligeth me to reverence them, and though I am their enemy, I cannot chuse but be their admirer. For when I consider that these great men had no other light than that of Nature, and that self-love

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which tyrannized over their wil, was the soul of all their designs, I cannot imagine how so fatall a cause could produce such gallant ef∣fects, and I wonder that the desire of Glory hath been powerfull e∣nough to make them overcome Pain, and despise pleasure. The Ambition of Command, hath made almost as many Martyrs in the Romane Common Wealth, as Charity hath done in the Christian Church; and all those Glorious Saints whose lives we read with ad∣miration, have suffered no more for the defence of Religion, than those first Romans did for the defence of their Liberty: her Sena∣tors and Consuls were a long time Corruption-proof. The Gene∣rals of their Armies did subdue their passions as well as their ene∣mies, the greatest danger could never abate their courage, they were most famous when most miserable, and Romes greatnesse never shone brighter, than in adverse Fortune. Worth was not confined to the most illustrious Subjects of that Common Wealth: the peo∣ple were obedient, as long as the Senate was modest; Particular Families preserved their Innocency, whilst Publique persons preser∣ved justice; Wives were chast, whilest their Husbands were valiant; the Vestals kept their Virginity, whilest the Priests kept their Reli∣gion; all these actions which have so fair an appearance, had no o∣ther Principle then Vertue, and Vertue had no other Force then what she drew from Glory or Eloquence; she was praised by the mouth of Orators; Every Philosopher was her Panegyrick, and hardly could you read their works without being passionate for her, who was their onely Subject: She is so well set forth in Seneca's wri∣tings, as one could not see her there, but they must reverence her; And he being the man that speaks the most worthily of her, I think I am bound to borrow his words to make her Panegyrick: List∣en then to what he writes of her in divers parts of his book.

Vertue hath this of advantage that she is Noble and easie; her Noblenesse gives her value amongst men, b 1.2 and her easinesse invites them to seek after her, the desire of her is sufficient to acquire her, and this Famous beauty doth not scorn any that love her; shee bestows her self freely on all those that court her; and be she never so chast, she ceaseth not to be common; you need not crosse the seas, nor discover new worlds to find her out. We have her Principles in our selves; and if we be but a little carefull in the husbanding thereof, we may turn every good Inclination into a Vertue; she raiseth us a∣bove

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our Condition; for though we be composed of Clay and dust, by her Inter-position c 1.3 we may enter into allyance with God; who loves those that are vertuously given; who in his greatnesse disdains not any one; and vertue is the onely disposition which he requires in those who would approach him; He acknowledgeth them for his Children who vouch her for their Mother; and Heaven is their In∣heritance, whom she adopts on earth: This last recompence is that a∣lone which doth in-animate her Lovers; all other rewards are in∣different, to them: d 1.4 And knowing that happinesse and vertue never part asunder, they hold for certain that a vertuous man cannot be miserable; the delight which accompanieth their Mistris, doth not inhaunce her merit; they are so faithfull to her, as when the servant forsakes her, they increase their love, and they are glad to love her in a Condition, wherein she can onely promise thorns to those that take her part.

Let her put on what disguise she will, she is always pleasing, be it that she withstands vice, that she melt into sweat or tears, that dust and bloud ternish her Lustre, that fasting, and sufferance pull her cheeks down, she hath still beauty enough to keep her Lovers, the faithfullest whereof love her as well in open field, as in Towns, and the Lustre which she borroweth from Apparel, or Palaces, doth not heighten her merit. e 1.5 Let fortune assail her never so oft, she is still victorious, that hood-winkt Sovereign which bears down the best establisht Thrones, which reverses the best grounded States, which takes delight to bruise Scepters in the greatest Monarchs hands, comes off with shame when she assails her, though Fortune arme Ty∣rants against her, and employ all her slaves to undo her, yet she is forced to yield the Field, and to confesse that Vertue may loose her repute, but never her courage nor Innocence.

Her Enemies reverence her, and her merit f 1.6 wins so much upon them, after having offended her, they give her Honourable satisfacti∣on, and praise her publiquely: if they hear her comliness spoken of, they declare for her, and foregoing her adversaries party, they rank themselves under her colours. When this Tyrant seeth that he is abandoned he hath no better way to reduce his slave under his Laws, than to take upon him the Semblance of Vertue; and to bor∣row his Enemies beauties to cover his own il-favour'dnesse. This disguise is vertues highest praise, 'tis the greatest advantage she can

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have, and though she be thereby sometimes prejudiced, yet is it al∣ways glorious to her, for she can easily disabuse the unwary, Let her be but a little carefull to make her beauty appear, she wins their heart, and causeth so much love in them, as it is easily discerned, if they have not taken her part, 'tis because they knew not her worth, he who could see her stark naked would never be disloyall to her, and would she discover all her perfections, all her enemies would become her friends.

Tis in fine the greatest advantage that man can possesse: All of good g 1.7 that Avarice or Ambition do promise him, are but disguised evils. Riches are but a little earth, on which the Sun hath set a price by giving it a colour. Glory which the Ambitious do so much Ido∣latrize, is but a little smoake, and the pleasure which the Voluptu∣ous seek after, is but the Felicity of Beasts: but vertue is a solid good, who ever possesseth her may vaunt to have in her immortall riches, true Honours, and innocent delights. Tis the way which Nature teacheth us to mount to Heaven by; the means which she furnish∣eth us with all, to make our selves like God, without sin, and of so many things which we seek after, there is none but Vertue which can procure us that happinesse. We ought not to hope for riches, since h 1.8 God hath nothing but himself, and that he hath not made the world so much for his use as for his Glory: we ought not to wait for reputation, since he is unknown, since the greatest part of praises that are given him, are blasphemies, and that the Libertines do un∣punisht, condemn his providence. Tis not in fine in the Number of our Followers that our Felicity consists, since God lived without Subjects before he made the world, and that of as many happy spi∣rits that do wait upon him, there was not any one neer him before the Creation of the Universe. His Glory wholly consists in his own greatnesse, and without heightening himself by the Splendor of his workmanship, or number of his slaves, he finds his happinesse in his Essence. Thus Vertue is the proper good of man: he is rich enough if he be vertuous, he despiseth the praises of the world, and finds himself satisfied with the Testimony of his Conscience; he seeks for no other pleasure than what he finds in doing his duty, and as God would not cease to be happy though he should ruin the world, the wise man would not cease to be content, if though he lost his fa∣mily, he preserved his vertue, he needs not care for his body, though

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it be the Organe of his soul, and without drawing any advantage ei∣ther from his strength or comlinesse, he onely values that Good, which neither fortune nor death can bereave him of.

Tis an i 1.9 errour to imagine that the bodies beauty contributes to that of the soul, and that Vertue appears the more pleasing for being lodged in a handsome personage: as a great man may come forth of a little village, so a great spirit may proceed from a deformed body, and Nature oft-times fastens il-favour'dnesse to Vertue, to teach us that we ought to love her onely for herself, for he is unjust who con∣siders the ornaments which do imbellish her, and who not regarding the excellencies which she keeps inclosed within her self, amuseth himself in considering the Pomp, which doth environ her. This great Princesse is so high spirited as she cannot tolerate a rivall, she is angry when she is sought after, for the pleasure which doth accompanie her, and likes not such lovers, as only serve her that they may by her reap profit or Glory. She will be her self the recompence of their labours, and though she promiseth them innocent content∣ments, and true riches, she will be the onely motive of their search. Her beauty well deserves this respect, and he is yet ignorant of her worth, who loves her onely out of Interest: We must never ask what she promiseth us, since she gives us her self. We must not looke upon her hands, but upon her countenance, nor must we consider her fa∣vours, but her desert, she is lovely enough though she appear with∣out ornaments, glorious enough though without a Train, sufficient∣ly magnificent though without splendor, and liberall enough, though she promise us nothing when she cals us. If there go courage to fight∣ing under her Banners, there goes glory to dye in her quarrell, and as souldiers love that k 1.10 Prince for whom they will powre out their bloud and glory in the hurts they receive in his service; Wise men love that Vertue for which they lose their lives, and Glory in the outra∣ges which they receive in her defence, their minds are not altereed by ill successe, when their souls issue forth by their wounds, they by their mouth publish her praises, and having been her servants, they rejoyce to be her Martyrs.

Her beauty doth well deserve this Fidelity, for in whatsoeve con∣dition we shall consider her, she is so full of allurements, as he who hath a heart must love her. How Generous is she when undet the name of Fortitude, l 1.11 she despiseth whatsoever causeth Fear in man,

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when without pale looks she assails death, provokes pain, and wins the victory over all those angersome accidents which intrench upon mans Liberty, how sacred is she, when under the name of friend∣ship she in sinuates m 1.12 her self into their hearts, and inspires them with such courage as they can neither be astonished with threats, nor cor∣rupted with bribes: burn us (cry they) when inanimated by this vertue invents new Torments, we will never betray our friends, the more Pain shall endevour to wrest our thougts from us, the more carefull will we be to conceal them, and to deserve the names of Faithfull, though it cost us our lives, n 1.13 How delightfull is she, when under the name of Temperance she commands over all sensualities, chaseth a∣way such as are Impudent, moderates those which are irregular, when she fits our desires to our need; and foregoing all superfluous things contents her self with necessaries: How sweet is she when un∣der the name of humanity o 1.14 she becomes affable to all the world? when she forbids us to raise our selves above our equals, commands us not to be severe to our Inferiours? when she perswades us that another mans mischeif can never redound to our advantage, and that we receive Glory by what is advantagious to our p 1.15 Neighbour? How full of charms is she, when under the name of Clemen∣cy, she Pardons the guilty, spares anothers Bloud, as her own. when she converts the Criminall by her mildnesse, and by her good∣nesse comforts the miserable? wee must also confesse she is as well the ornament of our body, as of our soul; and that there are no charms like those which we borrow from Vertue. q 1.16 See you not what life Fortitude puts into our eyes, what Majesty wisedom makes appear in our behaviour? with what sweetnesse Modesty doth sea∣son our words? what a pleasing blush shamefac'tnesse drives into our forehead, and what a Serenity a good conscience causeth in our countenances? Truly if women knew how much vertue doth in∣haunce beauty; they would be vertuous, that they might be baeuti∣full: and without corrupting Nature by Paint they mould make use of no other red than that of shamefac'tnesse, of no other white than that of Innocency, of no other Majesty than that of Justice, of no other sweetnesse than that of Clemency, nor of no other pomp than that of modesty, but the mischief is we are more carefull in acqui∣ring Glory than vertue, and labour more to make our name famous, than our souls innocent: we despise the testimony of our Conscience, and seek for the peoples approbation, and preferring appearances

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before Truth, r 1.17 we do not greatly care to be vertuous, so as we may have the reputation of being so.

One cannot notwithstanding merit this glorious Title, unlesse he part with pleasure, and Glory for it, for as he knows not the worth of Vertue who seeks her only out of voluptuousnesse, so neither doth he know her merit who seeks her only for Honours sake. We must resolve to lose al things to come by her, nor can man hazard his repu∣tation for a more just subject, than in the preservation of Vertue.

The second Discourse.

That Morall Vertue hath her faults.

AS night never looks more gastly than when it succeeds a fair day; as a Tempest is never more hideous than when it surpri∣zeth the Marriners after a long calm, and as uglinesse is ne∣ver more deformed tahn when it approaches neer Beauty: I thought the best way to make the vanity of Morall Vertue appear, was to op∣pose it to Christian Vertue, and to set forth in the same Picture the ones defects, and the others perfections. This harmlesse piece of cunning will suffice to disabuse such Christians as will heighten Pa∣ganisme, to the prejudice of our Religion, and who prefer the Con∣stancy of their Socratesses and Catoes before our Ignatii and Laurentii.

That which I think may have deceived them is nothing else but the s 1.18 Lustre, which humane Eloquence hath put upon Pagan Ver∣tue: for we must confesse that Plato hath much better illustrated So∣crates his Innocence, than Saint Basill, or Saint Gregory of Nazianzen have done that of Abell and of Iob: Titus-Livius paints out Lu∣cretia's Chastity in better colours, than doth Saint Ambrose the like of the Christian Virgins, and Seneca doth much more handsomly commend Cato's courage, than Saint Augustine doth the courage of the Martyrs. Christian Eloquence is uncompounded; she is modest in her praises, she is ashamed to make use of a falshood to heighten a Truth, and to honour a Vertue by an Hyperbole; she attributes the Saints constancy, to the grace of Jesus Christ, she lessens our admiration by discovering the causes of their patience, and we won∣der not that Saint Agnesse and Saint Cecilie have overcome their tor∣ments, when we consider they were assisted by Angels, and that the wild beasts did reverence their Innocency. Christians having all∣ways

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been more carefull of doing well than of saying well, the best of their t 1.19 actions have been buried in oblivion; their vertue not ha∣ving received so much Glory, hath not thrown abroad such a Lustre; and wanting Orators to speak in her praise, or Panegyricks, she hath oft-times mist Admirors: but the vertue of the Pagans hath had all prophane Eloquence exercised in the praises thereof, and all the most famous Orators busied in composing of Panegyricks to her; She hath made the best ancient Poets sweate; Homer and Virgil, are but skilfull ingravers, or able Painters, who have endevoured to re∣present unto us rather the mind, then the visage of their Heroes.

Yet for all the care they have had to disguise Vertues defects, they may be discovered, if attentively considered: for Philosophers who have defined her, have placed her in a certain u 1.20 Mediocrity, which takes from her the Liberty of operating, she is environed by two Enemies which will not suffer her to enlarge her self; if she will exalt her self, she fals into a precepice, and if she endevour to do somewhat towards the acquiring of Glory; Humane weaknesse which cannot suffer it, doth condemn it as a sin. This languishing vertue is shackled, and dares undertake nothing of generous, least starting from out the Common road, she be accused of straying: she is inforced to follow the ordinary Track, and to submit her self to the rules which are prescribed unto her, if she will preserve her reputation: Liberality can do nothing of profuse wherein she may not be accused of prodigality. x 1.21 A Prince dares not be magnificent for fear of being thought too bad a husband. Men with-hold their liberall humours through unjust Maximes, and keep him from following Nature in her Profusions, because some Monarchs have been known, who after having indiscreetly emptied their Coffers, have unjustly filled them again: to keep him within his duty, men shew unto him, that Ambition oft enters into the souls of Kings under the name of Liberality, that there are few who know how to dispense their fa∣vours, and many that know how to lose them. Thus Princes can∣not make use of Liberality; and though the Heavens have given them so great Territory, they must temper Avarice by Prodigality to acquire the title of Liberall.

Valour is under the same constraint, this generous vertue receives dayly a hundred advises, which under pretence of her preservation, have a design to put a period to her conquests; if she expose her self

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to danger, she is esteemed rash; if relying upon her good fortune, she put on such resolutions as fear approves not off, she is accused of Im∣prudencie; yet should she beleeve her advice, she should never do any thing of generous: and had Caesars and Alexanders valour been limit∣ed within the bounds of fear, they had never fought, nor been vi∣ctorious; upon some occasions wisdom must give way to fortune, and Conquerours must rather consult with their good fortune than with their duties, The most glorious vertues ought to be free, they are too couragious to live inthrald, they are but the most Common ones that Subject themselves to these Lawes, they must dispense with ordina∣ry rules, if they will attempt any thing worthy of memory. Poets knew this very well; for they have been enforced to invent heroick vertues, and to indue their Heroes with a valour, which raised it self above wisdom, and which in the greatest perils advised only with courage, y 1.22 weak spirits terme it a fortunate rashnes, but the wisest Phi∣losophers call it an Heroick valour.

Now Christian vertue is happily affranchised from this shamefull mediocrity, wch weakens moral vertue: for being more Divine than hu∣mane, she is not stopt by weak maximes, nothing seems impossible to her, she suffers her self to be led on by the spirit, which in-ani∣mates her, and wholly throwing her self upon the Providence which guideth her, she neither considers her strength nor yet her weaknesse; hence it is that the Saints forgo all their wealth, that without caring for what is to come, they voluntarily become poor, and leave the care of their subsistence to him who governs them. Virgins who by their age and sex ought to be timorous, have sought out Tyrants, and provoked their Executioners: they thought it was a kinde of slacknesse to waite for wilde beasts; they irritated their fu∣ry, they desired to loose their lives for the glory of Jesus Christ, who inspired them with a sanctified rashnesse; the love which we are bound to bear unto our Enemies, doth much exceed the rules of dis∣cretion, z 1.23 which forbids us to trust in a man who hath deceived us; and all Christian vertues are so Noble, that there is not any one of them whose perfection doth not consist in excesse.

Though she be gotten to this high pitch, she ceaseth not to be easie, which is the second Advantage which she hath over morall vertue, whose whole worth consists, in the difficulty which accom∣panieth her; she would not be beautifull were she not difficult, and seeing that humane mindes betake themselves onely to what is pain∣full,

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she endeavours to heighten her desert by Labour; she decks her self with thornes in stead of flowers, covers her self with dust, in stead of sweet powders, drops sweat and bloud, in stead of perfumes, and promiseth such as court her, nothing but disasters and ill luck; she is lodged upon a hill which is smooth, slippery, and steep on all sides, where a man cannot come at her without danger of falling into a precipice; though she promise honour to such as love her, she suffers them oft times to be confounded, and judgeth onely of their love, by misprising glory or pleasure. Shee invites them by her discourse, but endues them not with strength; she perswades their understandings, but doth not raise up their wills: and like the Law of Moses, she may well have some light, but no heat: a 1.24 This is the cause why her pertakers have faln into despair, and after having a long time served this rigorous Mistris, they have been forced to accuse her of ingrati∣tude, and to blame her cruelty; but what could they hope for from an idol, which being the workmanship of their mindes, had no other perfections than what it had borrowed from their praises, which was onely vigorous in their writings, only beautiful in their Panegy∣ricks, and which was not generous, save in their actions. Thus had Cato recourse to despaire, finding no relief in vertue; and Brutus ac∣knowledged when he died, that she could not assist such as served her, that she dazled mens eyes by a false light, and that she was but a vain idol, which forsook her followers at a pinch, not being able to warrant them from the outrages of Fortune.

We may truly affirm there have been two sorts of idolaters in the world; the one worshipped the workmanship of their own hands, b 1.25 and by an Immense folly put their hope in images which they themselves were Authors off; though they cannot understand them, they serve them with respect, though they cannot defend them, they fly to them for protection; and dread their anger. The other adore the workmanship of their minds, and form unto themselves Noble Ideas which they fall in love with, the more beautifull the idols were, the greater impression did they make upon their wils, and the more eloquent they were in describing them, the more superstitious were they in honouring of them. This errour blinded all Philosophers vertue, which is but a habit which we acquire that we may do Good, was the only Divinity which these hood winckt people worshipped; and not considering that there is nothing in the soul of man, which

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merits a Supreme Honour, they bore respect to the good inclinations thereof, when they were governed by the rules of morality; this su∣perstition cost the Apostles, much more pain, than the superstition of the people, they had more ado to convert Philosophers, than Ty∣rants; and experience taught them that reason was more opinionated than force. Two ages were sufficient to overthrow all idols of brasse and marble, and though their adorers used cruelty to defend them; martyrs through their patience triumphed over them. But all the Reign of Jesus Christ hath not sufficed to destroy the idols of the minde. The Doctors of the Church have in their writings set upon them, but have not been able to bear them c 1.26 down; and there be yet some libertines, amongst the Children of the Church, that do adore them. They are not so much attracted by the grace of the Son of God, as by the vertue of the Pagans; good Nature appears more con∣siderable to them than godlinesse, and they more esteem Seneca's or Aristotles morals, than those of Saint Paul, or of Saint Austine his di∣sciple; yet the Vertue which these Philosophers taught in their Schooles had her esteem heightened onely by reason of her difficul∣ty, and was admired by her partakers onely through a vain beauty which did dazle them. But Christian vertue is at once both beauti∣full & easie, you need but love her to acquire her; to possess her cost us nothing but desires; and the Holy Ghost who sheds her in our souls, endues us with strength to overcome the difficulties which ac∣company her; therefore is it that vertue in Christians did oft times fore-run reason; they were wise before the years of wisdom, and the Agnesses who had Jesus Christ onely for their Master, were vertu∣ous before rationall Grace fupplyed their weaknesse, torments exci∣ted their courage they were constant, not having read the death of Socrates, the life of their spouse made up all their morality, and his maximes confirmed by his examples inspired them with more of Constancie, than was requisit to triumph over the cruelty of Ty∣rants, and to confound the vertue of Philosophers.

But truly I do not wonder that the vertue of Pagans was so weak; since they were divided, and that reason which did guide them could never reconcile them; for though they be said to have one & the same father, and that they are so straitely united together that a man cannot possesse one of them, without possessing all the rest, yet ex∣perience, teacheth us that they have differences which Philosophy

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hath not yet been able to terminate. Though they conspire together to make a man happy, they trouble his quiet by their division, and make so cruel war one upon another, as to have peace in his soul, he is obliged to drive out one of the parties from thence, Mercy, and Justice cannot lodge together in one Heart, their Interests are so dif∣ferent as they are not to be accorded. A man must renounce mildnes if he will be severe, and severity if he will be mercifull. Morality hath not yet found out a secret to reconcile these two vertues, nor to unite them together thereby to make an accomplish't Prince. Wis∣dom and simplicity hold no better intelligence, the one is always diffident that she may be secure, she oft-times hastens her misfortune, whilest she thinks to avoide it; she had rather do ill, than suffer ill; and her humour is so given to guile, as the best part of her being is made up of dissimulations; simplicity walks in a clean other track, for she findes her assurance in her goodnesse: she fears no outrage, because she beleeves no injustice, she had rather be unfortunate than blamefull, and she is of so good an inclination, as she resolves rather to receive an injury than to do one. If wisdom be not upon good termes with simplicity, she is not upon much better terms with valour: Nature must do a miracle to make them both meete in one Subject; they require different tempers, and the aversion is such, as morality cannot accord them: wise and cautious men are always fearfull, and valiant men are alwayes rash; wisdom is of a cold con∣stitution, and doth not ingage her self in any perill till she see a wicket whereby to get out. Valour is hot and firie, considers not danger so much as glory; the one of these startles at all things, the other won∣ders at nothing; the one and the other of them hath their advan∣tage, and their defaults, but there is so great an opposition between them, as one and the same man cannot Possesse them both. Thus perfection is an Idea, which a man may easily conceive, but never ac∣quire. Morality is an Art which hath more of light than of force, and which very well knows the desert of vertues, but cannot ap∣pease their differences.

'Tis mans advantage that the vices cannot be reconciled, that these monsters, who have the same designe, cannot make the same Army, and that Nature to weaken them, hath divided them; to say truth profusion and avarice cannot lodge together in the same breast, and though the one of them proceed from the other, they wage war one

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upon another which ends onely in death. Audacity and Cowardise are incompatible, and though Fortitude be their Common enemy, they cannot joyn together to charge upon it. Indulgencie, and cruel∣ty, are two faults equally pernicious to Monarchies; and 'tis hard to say whether it be the greater misfortune, to live under a Prince who punisheth all; or under f 1.27 one who punisheth none. Licentiousnes countenanceth sin, and when Law, are violated, & no punishment in∣flicted, no honest man can live securely. Cruelty sets al the world to∣gether by the ears, & as her injustice makes no distinction of persons, she doth astonish as well the innocent as the guilty; but Nature doth not suffer these two extreams to lodge together, & this wise Mother not being able to impede their birth, thought to oblige us by hindring their society. I acknowledge we are obliged to her fore-sight, and that our misfortune had been much greater, if these two enemies of our quiet could have kept good Intelligence; but it must also be confest that she was wanting either in Power or in wil, when she 〈◊〉〈◊〉 permit∣ted that the vertues should war one upon another, and that the good Habits, which she had opposed to bad ones, cannot joyn their forces in our assistance. This is also an effect of Original sin, and I am confi∣dent this division was not amongst them in the State of innocency; that justice was not an enemy to Mercy, that wisdom warred not a∣gainst simplicity, and that all these Sisters lodg'd peaceably together in the heart of Man. Christian Grace which repairs the miseries of sin, with use, hath pacified the difference between the vertues; they fight altogether joyntly under the banner of charity; this vertue, which they acknowledge for their Sovereign, quieteth all their quar∣rels; she takes from justice what it hath of rigour to agree it with mer∣cy, she takes from mercy what it hath of remisnesse to reconcile it with justice. She unites the wisdom of the serpent with the inno∣cence of the Dove: she stifles particular interests, to favour the publique good, and bindes them so close together, g 1.28 that they forgoe their own inclinations to assume the inclinations of their Soveraign: Hence it is that Christians are wise without malice, and simple without ignorance, that they are gener∣ous without boldnesse, and advised without Cowardlinesse; that they are just without rigour, and mercifull with indulgencie; they have the perfections of Philosophers, and want their Er∣rours, they tast their pleasures, not their miseries, and Posses∣sing

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Charity; they enjoy all the other vertues which hold in Fee of her Crown.

The third Discourse.

That Vain Glory is the soul of the Vertue of Infidels.

TIs a strange yet a true thing that the pride of Man was twin in birth to his misery, and that he began to be proud assoon as he was miserable. Amidst his greatnesse he was humble, whilest he commanded over all Creatures he obeyed God, and his Empier was grounded upon his submission; a 1.29 but when his disobedience had caused his unhappinesse, ambition seized him, and forgetting that he was a slave to the Devil, he pretended to the So∣vereignty of the whole world. To effect this his design, he tryed many meanes as unjust, as shamefull: for through a high piece of folly he would shake off the yoke of obedience, which he owed to God; live in a sinfull Liberty, and follow no Laws, but those of his will. Ha∣ving laid the first ground work of his Rebellion, he endeavored to frame it into a Tyranny, and having shaken off his Sovereign he strove to get Subjects. He used Art to make himself be beloved, and violence to cause himself to be feared, he made his equals his slaves, under pretence of preserving or defending them; he opprest their Li∣berty, and turned his false protection, into a true Tyranny; hence did proceed the first usurpations, which getting authority in process of time, became at last legitimate: for pride was the originall there∣of, and the desire of government took away the equality, which na∣ture had placed amongst men. Those who liked not this way took another road, being possest by vain glory, they endeavored to practice vertue; that they might win glory, and studied to b 1.30 do gallant A∣ctions, onely that they might be praised. Their way of Command was not so rigorous, but it was not much lesse haughty than the o∣ther; for they pretended to rise by merit, and mildly to enforce men to submit themselves to their guidance; whatsoever they did by this motive could not be innocent, and whatsoever vertue they exercised

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by this principle had onely a deceitfull appearance of vertue. Vain Glory was the soul of all their designes; did they defend their Coun∣try, did they conduct their Subjects, did they fight their Enemies? 'twas rather out of the love of Glory, than of Justice. Let them be as carefull as they pleased to hide their intentions, they were always clearly discerned by their actions or their words; their thoughts might be discovered without Tortures, and whilst the name of Ju∣stice was in their mouthes, nothing but vain glory was observed to be in their hearts; they did publiquely affirm, that to make a kingdom happy, c 1.31 a Philosopher must either be the King, or the King a Phi∣losopher, they boasted that they had withdrawn men from out of Forrests, that they had inclosed them within Towns; and by giving them Laws, they had taught them Civility. They governed a while with mildnes, but when one went about to blame their government, or to reform it, they had recourse to violence; and the same vain Glory which made them assume the Scepter to command, obliged them to take up Arms to defend it. Thus did Philosophers become Tyrants, and Pride which had used cunning to establish her self, used Force to perserve her self.

This truth appeared in the greatest part of Monarchies, but shone the clearest in the Roman Common-wealth; and we may affirm, the more she affected vertue, the more was she Subject to vain Glory; d 1.32 for those who shall examine her proceedings may observe, that all her most Glorious Actions had no other motive, than a desire of preserving her liberty, of acquiring Glory, or of increasing her au∣thority. When Romulus his valour Numa's Piety, and Tullies wis∣dom, had Founded the Roman Common wealth, she thought not so much upon extending her limits, as in defending them, she never de∣clared war against her Enemies, but when she saw her self in danger of being opprest. She fought for her Altars and for her houses, and her first commanders had no other spur to egge them on to vertue, than a desire to live, or dy in liberty. When all Italy was under their Laws, when those who would not be their friends, were become their Subiects, they suffered themselves to be tickled with the de∣sire of Glory; and those who had no other thought but to be free, began to covet Fame and Glory. This ambitious Passion being very powerfull, made them undertake a thousand gallant Actions; and we must confesse the Roman Common-wealth, was never more

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fruitfull in vertue than when most desirous of a glory; her Citizens imbraced all occasions which promised them * 1.33 Honour, not being yet so corrupted, they valued their dutie., and thought the nearest way to win reputation was to render justice to all men, to keep their words to their enemies, to despise riches and value vertue; with these fair maximes, they blinded all mens eyes; their alliance was sought after, and men thought they must be subject to this Repub∣lique, if they would be free.

They notwithstanding, who took upon themselves the trouble of examining their vertues▪ found that vain glory was their onely mo∣tive thereunto, and that if they had withstood vice, 'twas onely that they might win e 1.34 glory: They confess it themselves by their super∣stitions, and by building the Temple of Vertue neer to that of Glory, they did sufficiently witnesse that Honour was the end, and recom∣pence of all their Actions. To say truth, there is nothing famous in their history, which relisheth not of vain glory, it appeares so evi∣dently therein, as their very Historians cannot disguise it, when they praise their vertue, they discover the motive, and are enforced to impute that to the dee of glory, which ought to be atributed to the desire of justice. When Virgil makes g 1.35 Brutus his Panegyricke, * 1.36 and when he useth all his eloquence and skill to excuse his Parricide, he gives no other reaso than the love of his Country, and his d∣sire of praise, he makes us see by this onely example; that Murthers were permitted, provided they were glorious, and that there was no Father in Rome, that was not ready to sacrifice his own son to aug∣ment his reptation. If Camillus deliver his Country from whence he was banist. 'twas h 1.37 because he could not live else-where more gloriously; If he assist his fellow-Citizens, 'tis because his glory may be inhaunced by their ingratitude, and that by re-stablishing the Republique, he may improve his power. If Regs keep his word, which he had past to the Carthaginians, and if he enter himself pri∣soner again 'tis onely that he may acquire honor by the loss, and to let all the world see, that he who had been slave to Carthage, could no longer be a Citizen of Rome. If Pompie i 1.38 cleered the Sea of Pi∣rats, if Eurpe seemed not to him a Theatre large enough to show his valour in; if after having Conquered Spain, he inrencheth upon the liberty of Asia, if he carry war into all the parts of the world, 'tis to merit the name great; 'tis to equall the faults of Mari and

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Scilla, and to fface the glory which they had got in oppressing the Republique. If Caesar march in Catelines steps, if he happily end what the other had unjustly undertaken, k 1.39 if seeing no more ene∣mies worthy of his anger, he sets upon his Citizens; if being no more able to suffer an equall, he will have all to be his slaves; if by one and the same fault he viole both the Laws of Nature and of Nati∣ons, if amongst so many vices, he mingle some illustrious vertues, 'tis onely that he may win reputation, and that by giving some co∣lour to his Tyranny, he may march in the head of Caesars, and give a beginning to the most famous Empire of the world. For as manners were corrupted in Rome, and that particular interest prevailed over the publique, the Romans, who laboured onely after glory, began to labour after government; these who thought onely to enlarge the State, bhought themselves how to usurpt it, and being weary of obeying Senators, they would command over slaves.

'Tis true that when their greatnesse was once confirmed, they changed their love of glory in the like of voluptuousness, they pre∣served their power, only to satisfie their pleasure, they gave over do∣ing of gallant Actions, because flattery gave the same praises to their crimes, as vain glory gave to the vertues of their Ancestors; and they troubled themselves no more with making new conquests, because the best part of the world obeyed them; thus their vertue ceased to blossom, when vain glory ceased to inanimatein them, when they knew they could win reputation by their l 1.40 debaucheries, they neglected the glorious labours, which had made their forefathers fa∣mous. This change maks it evident that the Romans strove not af∣ter vertue for her own sake, and tht they fell into the same fault as thy do, who seek her for pleasures sake: for though Honorbe more Noble than pleasure▪ and ambition seem to be more generous than intemperance, yet are they both equally prejudiciall to vertue, if wan∣tonness soten the heart and abase it, Ambition puffs it up, and makes it insolent, if voluptuousnesse be brutish, ambition is cruel, and if pleasure master the senses, ambition Tyrannizeth over the minde, but the greatest disorder which she causeth is, that those who are pos∣sest by her, abandon vertue when she no longer promiseth them ei∣ther glory or pleasure, for the ambitious contemn obscure vertues which delight in solitarinesse and silence; the volupruous fear such vertues as are are, and which either swim in bloud, or bathe

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themselves in tears; by a consequence as vexatious as necessary, they both of them adore vice when it is mixt with glory or with pleasure, they have not strength enough to defend themselves against a plea∣sing or glorious sin, they have not light enough to distinguish be∣tween good and bad: and they have so great a Passion for honour and Pleasure, as every thing which doth bear the badges thereof seems to them worthy to be sought after, yet this is so great a disor∣der as Seneca m 1.41 hath observed that those who do love vertue truly, ought to lose Glory to preserve Innocence, that like Merchants who throw their riches over board to save their lives; they should sacrifice their reputation to their Conscience, and not be troubled to appear Criminall, so as they be in effect vertuous.

I must confesse that a Vertue so clarified, comes very nigh true * 1.42 vertue, and that a little Grace, would have made these Philosophers Great Saints, yet the Poyson which doth infect them, is so much the more dangerous, by how much it is the more concealed; and the vanity which in-animates their vertue is so much the more difficult to cure, for that it is more subtill and more nice; for though they make no accompt of Honour, and that they seem to despise Glory; and that satisfied with the merit of Vertue, they seek not after the reputation which doth accompany her, yet are they drunk with the esteem of themselves, and are their own Idolaters. The lesse praises they receive, the more they think they deserve, and who could read their hearts, would find nothing there but proud & insolent thoughts; * 1.43 they tye themselves up to reason, and despise Divinity; they think themselves wise, and better than Gods: and not knowing that the Angels were Rebels, they become guilty of their faults, for as Saint Augustine says very well, all men who stop at the Creature, and do not raise themselves up to the Creator, are criminall.

He trifles with those things which he ought to make use of, he makes that his onely end, which is but onely a means to arrive at it, and reversing all the laws of Nature, he will find in himself the hap∣pinesse which is onely to be found in God. Thus are these Philoso∣phers proud even when they contest against vain glory, they trample upon ordinary Pride, by a more subtill Pride; they despise not rich∣es, save onely that they adore vertue, they loosen themselves from the world onely that they may fasten themselves to their own per∣sons, and they make war against their bodies, onely that they may

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make love unto their minds. They are not Epicureans but Stoicks, * 1.44 they neither love Pleasure nor Glory; yet cease not to be slaves, to both of them: self-love is their voluptuousnesse, and the satisfaction which they receive from their vertue is their vain glory, they behold not one another without admirations and if they appear modest in their writings, their designs are full of Pride Doubtlesly, * 1.45 they are proud, since they take Pleasure in themselves, and they are not aware that this Complacency is a proof of their Folly, since (as Saint Augustine saith,) every man is a fool who delighteth in him∣self, and he alone is wise who pleaseth God.

To conclude this discourse by a reason of Saint Pauls, y of which Saint Augustine shall be the Interpreter, the delight which we have in our selves is aswell a sin as the pleasure we take in others. This great Apostle doth equally condemn these two disorders, he will not have us to delight in our advantages, the satisfaction which we take in our selves, is a science, or young shoot of self-love, and if we * 1.46 be forbidden to love our selves, we are not permitted to esteem our selves. Saint Peter, all whose words are Oracles, Places complacency amongst the number of sins, and condemning those who raise them∣selves above their deserts, he condemnes those also who take plea∣sure in their Vertues, and Saint Augustine discovering the intention of these great Apostles, teacheth us that there are two sorts of Tem∣ptations; the one exterior, which being easily discovered, are not hard to overcome; the other interior, and which lying in the bosome of our souls, are as hard to cure as to know. Of this sort is their Tem∣ptation, who not requiring the praises which they deserve, or who re∣jecting such praises as are given them, cease not notwithstanding to be displeasing to God, because being filled with a vain glory, so much the more dangerous, as the more subtill, they delight in themselves, and do not raise themselves up to the Summum Bonum; which is the fruitfull Fountain-head of all true vertues. This is the fault whereof prophane Philosophers were guilty, the vain glory which blindes the Socratesses, & the Catoes, & this is the nice Temptations, which undid all the excellent wits of Rome and Athens. The rest which were so very fine, were contented with the peoples applause, and de∣manded no other recompence for their vertues, than triumphs and victories; r 1.47 and certeinly those could not complain of Gods Justice, since he hath changed their desires into effects, and

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proportioning their recompences to their Actions, hath crowned their fallacious vertues with a vain Honour; since he hath paid their Labours with so many conquests, and hath submitted so many peo∣ple, to men that are Ambitious of Command and glory.

The fourth Discourse.

That the vertue of Infidels cannot be True.

VErtue is so beautifull as her very shaddow is delightfull; vi∣ces have some sort of comelinesse when they borrow her accoutrements, and we cannot forbear praising such errours, as appear in her likely-hood, We approve of prodigality in Princes, because it counterfeits liberality; We admire boldnesse in Souldiers because it hath an air of valour and courage: We adore ambition in conquerours, because it borders upon Generosity. This errour would be excusable did it not advance further; but there are some men who preferring appearances before truths; value a glorious vice at a higher rate, than a neglected vertue. Socrates his conference with his friends seems of a more lofty style to them than doth S. Pauls last words, and this Philosophers discoveries prevailes more with them, than the examples of our Martyrs. Hence it is that Christians admire the vertues of Infidels that not content to make their Apologies, they make Panegyricks in their behalf, and praise men on earth whom God punisheth in hell. Saint Austine not being able to endure this injustice, s 1.48 which had its birth with the Pelagian Heresie, oppo∣seth it in a thousand parts of his writings, and contradicting the rea∣sons which it proffers in 'its defence; Makes Christians confesse, that the greatest part of infidels vertues, are but glorious vices; as I am of his opinion, I will march under his colours, and I will make use of his weapons to preserve the advantages of the Graces of Jesus Christ, and to take away the vanity of corrupted Nature.

But to proceed by degrees we must presuppose with S. Austine, that no action can be holy which proceeds not from Faith, accord∣ing to this holy Fathers sense a man must be faithful if he will please God, and the soul which is not enlightened by the Divine light, can∣not acquire any Christian vertues; that which hath no regard to the Summum Bonum cannot be good in this sense; and where supreme

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tatis cognitio is wanting, no Divine vertue can be practised. Either t 1.49 Grace or corrupted Nature, are the Originals of our actions; whatso∣ver proceeds from the former is sacred, whatsoever derives from the second is prophane: a good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit, nor can a bad one bring forth good. Since humane Nature hath lost her Innocence, and her Inclinations are corrupted; unlesse she be amend∣ed by u 1.50 Grace, she remains always bassed towards the earth; she must be raised up by faith, if she will look up to heaven; though she see er disorder, she cannot amend it, and though she be conscious of her evill, she cannot hate it, she wants both light and strength, her wisdome is full of errour; her strength is mingled with weaknesse, if she have any cognizance of vertue, 'tis in so confused a manner, as she cannot discern it from sin; and if she do any good, 'tis so faintly, as she cannot shun evill: let her turn on what side she please, she is always out of the way; and till she be guided by x 1.51 faith, she hardly steps a step without stumbling.

If man in this unhappy condition, expose himselfe to the fire for Truths sake: if he fight for his Countrey, if he suffer or Justice, he dyes a Martyr to vain glory; as he had no other end than Glory, he can look for no other recompence; and having had no other mo∣tive than his own Interests, he cannot shun the punishment which his injustice deserves: when the y 1.52 intentions are bad, the actions can∣not be good; and when man proposeth an unlawfull end unto him∣selfe, the means he useth to come thereby may be specious, but can never be innocent. To succour a mans Countrey, when 'tis in op∣pression, to assist ones Parents or friends when they are in danger, to hazard life for the defence of Liberty, and to lose liberty to preserve Innocence, are z 1.53 Actions which cannot be blamed at the first looking upon, and which draw praises from all mens mouthes, when they onely consider them as they appear. But when a man shall penetrate into their intentions, and shall see that self-love is the motive therof, that Honour is their end, and vain glory their Origi∣nall, we are bound according to Saint a 1.54 Austines Doctrine to con∣demne them, and to say that vertue and vice differ not so much in their actions, as in their designes: the Prodigall gives almes as well as he who is liberall, despair throwes us into danger as well as valour, Pride defends her selfe better from unchastity, than doth continence her selfe, and as rare exploits are wrought

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by vain glory, as by vertue; yet all men will confesse that these are bad actions, that their intention tarnisheth their beauty, and that their end makes them criminall. Let Catiline overcome voluptuousnesse, let him despise riches out of the love of honour, let him assist his friends couragiously, let him be as constant as Cato, let him lead on his designs happily, let him order his Troops as wisely as did Scipio, and fight more valiantly than Pompey: All these gal∣lant actions will be sallied▪ by his bad intentions, and you shall have reason enough to condemne him, when you shall know that he plots the losse of his Countrey, and imployes all the advantages which nature hath bestowed upon him, to change the Republique into a Tyranny; by the same reasons, we must conclude, b 1.55 that whatso∣ever the Infidels have done, deserves not the name of virtue, since the motive thereof was unjust, and the end unlawfull. Let Scipio undertake the defence of his Countrey, because in duty he is bound to do so; let him being egg'd on with glory, or touch'd by compassion, passe into Affrica, let him be Ca to deliver Italy, and let him defeat Hll to revenge the losse of Cannas; all these glorious considerations cannot excuse him, if vain glory, the peoples applause, or selfe-complacency have been his end therein.

Man is guilty as oft as he stops at the Creature, he goes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 when he goes not to God; and he makes an Idoll of c 1.56 goodnesse, or vertue, when he works onely through their motions. Man is so no∣ble, as he can have no finall end, but God, into whatsoever condi∣tion sin hath reduced him, he is always bound to look upon him, though it be not in his power to unite himselfe of himselfe to him, yet is he bound to aspire thereunto. His Impotency doth not dis∣pence with his duty, and though he knows not God, yet he is bound to love him. Thus were the Pagans guilty, when they sought after nothing, but glory and pleasure▪ those amongst them were the more innocent, or the lesse guilty, upon consulting with reason, de∣sired onely vertue; and who despising honour, sought onely how to acquit themselves of their duty.

This Truth may seem a Paradox, and there is none who will not condemne Saint Austine, of too much rigour, if he do not very well conceive mans greatnesse in the state of innocency, and the corruption of nature in the state of sin. To understand it

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well, we must know that our d 1.57 disobedience hath not altered Gods Designe. His Commands are of force after our rebellion, and though we have lost grace, we are not freed from our obligations: we ought to love God above all things. Though we have lost originall righ∣teousnesse▪ we ought to shun sin, though we have not the liberty that Adam had, we ought to aspire after Heaven▪ though the Gates be shut upon us▪ and we ought to have no other end upon earth, than what we had in Paradise, though we have lost the means. e 1.58 Thus are Infidels bound to despise glory and pleasure, that they may seek out the finall end; and they faile of the duties, as oft as they adore verue, and neglect the Divine Essence.

All the Stoicks would be great Sints if a man could loe vertue, and not an Idolater▪ Elysea Fields must be made to receive them after their death, if Integrity could 〈◊〉〈◊〉 make Philosophers innocent; All their Actions would 〈◊〉〈◊〉 recompence, if the Instructions of Morality were infallible, and th Grace of Jesus Christ would be of no use, if reason could promise any felicity: such as Zen and S∣crates would reign in Paradise set a pt, where Vertue should be the Idoll▪ where 〈◊〉〈◊〉 should be 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 where with∣out the Grace of believers, or the Glory of the 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ they should live exempt from pain▪ with a heapd up 〈◊〉〈◊〉 contentment. The Church acknowledgeth b 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Hell; neithr doth she acknow∣ledge more than one Paradise; and as in the former, none but true faults 〈◊〉〈◊〉 punished, so in the la none but reall vertues are recom∣pensd f 1.59 who hath not had Grate f his originall, shall not have Glory for his dese▪ and who hath not had God for his end, shall not have him for his happinesse. All these Actions which we so un∣justly value, had no other rise but self-love: the Stoicks and Epic∣raans agreed in this point, and though the one considered vertue, the other pleasur, they both loved man, and by severall ways en∣deavoured the same end. For (as g 1.60 saith S. Austine) the Epicuraans were ingaged in the body, and believing there was no other happinesse, than what consisted in the sense, the Pleasures of the soul seemed Illusions to them; they thought all that was not sensible, imagina∣ry,

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& knowing no other life than the present, they expected no other happines. The Stoicks were more haughty, and estranging themselves from their body, that they might ement themselves the more strong∣ly to their souls, they despised pleasure, that they might value vertue; their chains were not the weaker for being the more finely wrought, their Irons were not the lesse for being gilded, and their servitude was not the sweeter, for being somewhat the more Glorious. The one lived according to the flesh, the other according to the soul, but neither the one nor the other lived according to Jesus Christ. The Epicuraeans confined themselves within their body, the Stoicks with∣in their soul, but neither did the one nor the other of them, forgoe themselves to fasten to the Summum Bonum.

Then to be vertuous, it is not sufficient to love Morall vertue; she cannot be mans finall end sin is onely created for God; nor can she be a means to acquire it, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 h 1.61 〈◊〉〈◊〉 love is her originall. To et her forth to the life, we must say, that in this sence she is a disguised sin, which fights against apparent mischiefs by Hidden ones; which hurts us to heal us, and which never closeth up slight wounds, with∣out making deeper and more dangerous ones. This ought not to seem strange, to those who will consider that there be women who are chast, because they will be unchast, who grant nothing to their hus∣bands, that they may give all to their Adulterers. Thus did the Infi∣dels in their Combats; they opposed one sin to another, they surpast Incontinancy by vain glory, and freed themselves from injustice by Ambition▪ Those past for the best whose faults were most usefull to the State, men judged of vertues by their effects, as they oft-times do of counsels by their events; and not considering their original or their motives, they were thought vertuous who were honourable in the Common-wealth. They praised Fabrici his poverty▪ be∣cause it was a means why Luxury did not corrupt the most illustri∣ous Families of Rome, They valued Scipioes continencie, because there by the insolencie of the Souldiers was supprest, and they excu∣sed Catoes severity, because it preserved the Senates freedom; but all these false vertues were true faults: the very best of them was worth nothing, the beautifullest of them had their defaults, i 1.62 and oft-times those which we praise most, deserve most blame. It is not impossible; but that Camillus his ambition was more violent than that of Cateline; it may be Pompey was not more innocent than Caesar: who can tell

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but that he might have prevened his Father in Laws fault, had he * 1.63 thought he might have gained as much honour, by the oppression of the Repulique, as by her defence? It may be Scipio was no lesse vain than was Marius; and if he used it more modestly, 'twas onely for that he fashioned to himself a more noble Idea of glory. In fine they were all faulty; And as S. Austine says; Catiline was more wicked than Fabricius, but both of them were to blame; both of them shall be punished in Hell, but Fabricius not so much as Catiline, not for that he was better, but for that he was lesse cked, not for that he was more solidly vertuous, but for that he came somewhat neerer True vertue.

From all this discourse we must infer that S. Austine doth not ac∣knowledge any morall vertues, which are not Christian; that wis∣dom and Fortitude, are but weaknesse and blindnesse if they be not founded upon faith; that he who is not upon good terms with himself, cannot be upon good terms with his neighbours; that the wife who is faithlesse to God, l 1.64 cannot be faith∣full to her husband; and that the body cannot be chast, when the soul is the Devils strumpet. Let us conclude this discourse with those gallant words of S. Ierome; which will be the lesse subject to suspi∣tion, for that he seems to reverence the vertues of the Pagans, and that he is pleased to write their Panegyricke, to encourage the Faith∣full by their example. m 1.65 The just man lives by Faith, saith the holy Scripture, and we say, that the Chaste and courageous man lives by Faith. Let us apply these words to all the vertues, let us make wea∣pons there-out to beat the mis-beleevers & Hereticks withall, to the end that they may learn, that there is no living well out of Jesus Christ, without whom innocency is guilty, and vertue vitious. Af∣ter this Testimony, we may long dispute the truth of this Doctrine; and what is establisht by the Authority of two of the wisest Fathers of the Church, may be believed without Errour, taught without scandall, and defended without any scruple.

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The fift Discourse.

That Wisdom without Grace is blinde, weak, and Malignant.

IF the Pagans did beleeve that the vertues were Dieties we must not wonder if they yeelded the same Honour to Wisdom, since according to the judgement of Philosophers she is their Sove∣reign. n 1.66 Tis she which doth indeed conduct them in their employ∣ments, redresse them in their errours; and assists them at their needs: she wakes for the safety of the State, and whereas other vertues have but particular uses, this hath generall occupations which concern the Common good. When she goes to the Composition of an upright man, she is called morality, when to the making of a Father to a family, O economie, and when she makes a State Minister, or a Prince; she assumes a more Lofty name, and is called Policy; but she is the soul of all those Sciences, which have no other light than what she affords them, and which differ within themselves onely by the diversity of their objects, she is as necessary in war as in Peace; and the Generalls of Armies are more to be commended for their wisedom, o 1.67 than for their valour. In fine, she is the Chain which links all vertues together, which do disband as soon as she gives over guiding them. For Fortitude without wisdome is but meer rash∣nesse; Justice which is not accompanied with discretion, doth easily degenerate into severity, even Temporance it self, when it gives o∣ver being guided by her, becomes either too remiss, or too rigorous. So as a man must be wise to be vertuous, and the shortest way to come by all vertues is to get wisedome,

Amongst many Employments which are given her, the p 1.68 chiefest are to consult, and to deliberate, to Judge, and resolve; to conduct and to execute. When she hath done her utmost diligence, she leaves the successe to Fortune, and confesseth by this her submission, that she holds of a Sovereign Power which disposeth absolutely of all worldly affairs. Amongst so many advantages which so Eminent a vertue doth enjoy, it is not hard to observe her defaults: and to make Politicians who do adore her, confesse, that since Originall sin she is become blind, weak and malignant.

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Light seems to fall to q 1.69 wisdomes share, and that leaving Stability to Justice, Rigour to Fortitude, and Mildnesse to Temperance; she reserves Perspicuity to her selfe, to dissipate those darknesses which do obscure worldly things: yet is she unfortunate in this very point, and of all Sciences which meddle with prediction, she is the most uncertain in her conjectures. Astrologie, which seems to be wholly composed of Doubts and Errours, boasts her selfe of having con∣stant Principles, and to extract the good fortune, or bad fortune of men from the Conjunction of Planets, and from the Aspect of those Constellations which govern at their birth; Physick, which ought not to be more certain than it's objects, hath Prognosticks, which do not often deceive it, and the Symptomes which happen to sick folks, do presage their lives, or deaths. Navigation hath infallible rules, and though it depend upon the Element, which is no lesse in∣constant than furious, yet doth it foresee Tempests, knows the eb∣bing and flowing of the Sea, and dexterously makes use of the winds Impetuosity. r 1.70 But wisdome hath but feeble conjectures, which she drawes from what is past, to governe what is present, and to foresee what is to come. She boasts that time makes her know men, but what can she observe in so false a Glasse, and what knowledge can she draw from a thing which is so unknown unto her? for though memory be faithfull to her, and that she furnish her at her need with all the Miracles of Past Ages; though History enrich her with all her Treasure, and present her with a thousand Examples, which may informe her of the truth; though the senses discover unto her things present, and that these faithfull Officers make 〈◊〉〈◊〉 but faith∣full reports unto her, yet cannot she by all their assistances penetrate into the secrets that are to come. Futurity is a time wich suffers not it selfe to be approached; two of it's moments makes us loose our knowledge; and the wisest s 1.71 Politician, unlesse he be a Prophet, can∣not foresee the mis-fortunes which Futurity threatens him: that which he hath prepared for his defence, serves most commonly for his un∣doing; and that which he looked upon as the ground-work of his fortune, becomes the cause of his mis-fortune: oft-times the fairest appearances produce the worst effects; somtimes he is blest by a mis-fortune, and the wave which should have swallowed his Vessell up, doth oft-times happily throw him upon the Shore. Therefore hath the wisest of all Philosophers acknowledged that

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Counsell t 1.72 whereof, the best part of wisdom is composed, depends more upon fortune than reason, and that it was rather to be ranked amongst divine things, than humane. The body and the soule are as differing in their constitution, as in their conduct: for the body hath eyes in the face to conduct it, it sees whatsoever is before it, and none behinde it's sight, extends it selfe to such objects as seek it, and not to such as shun it; but the soule contrariwise, seeth things that are behinde her, and seeth not things that are before her, her eyes are on her back, not in her face; she remembers what is past, and knows not what's to come; wisdome endeavours to fortifie her sight, but she is not so happy as is Astrology, which hath found out prospective Glasses to consider the Stars: for after having made use of her conjectures, u 1.73 she is forced to confesse, that she foretels things to come, onely by consideration of what is past, and that she is deceived as oft as she undertakes to judge of what's to come. Prophets are onely permitted to consider this part of time: one must be admitted into Gods Cabinet to comprehend mysteries be∣fore they happen. The Devils themselves for all their subtill under∣standing cannot divine, their predictions are as doubtfull, as ob∣scure; they speak in hidden termes to excuse their ignorance; and the Oracles of these proud spirits are always conceived in confused words, to the end that their Adorers may not discover their fal∣shood. Man (who is not much lesse proud than the Devill) per∣swades himselfe that assisted by wisdome, he may know secrets to come, and that experience which is the Mother of this vertue, may furnish him with conjectures, the x 1.74 evidence and certainty whereof, are equally infallible: but who knows not that experience depends on yeares? that a man must be conversant in affaires to come by it, and that the Proverb of Ars longa vita brevis, ought rather to be affirmed of the Politician, than Physician.

If wisdome be voide of light, she is not much better provided of power; and if she be-blinde a man without injuring her, may say she is yet more weak; for she oft-times sees mischiefes which she cannot hinder. It would make for our ease, that she were either lesse knowing, or more y 1.75 powerfull; her light serves for the most part but to antici∣pate our miseries, and to make us miserable before our time. Thus is our condition worse than that of Beasts, for they shun an evill when they see it near at hand; and remember it no longer when it is

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once over; but we aflict our selves both with what is past, and with what is to come, we seem to be prejudiced by our advantages, and that we are onely unhappy in having too good a memory, and in be∣ing too wise, the one calls back the evil when it is past, and the other goes to finde it out before it approach. What need is there in hasten∣ing our dislikes, in advancing those evils which come always too soon, to what end do we loose the present time for fear of the fu∣ture? what good doth it us to be now miserable because we must be so hereafter? This is notwithstanding the most usual effect of wis∣dom, for as she hath more light then power she foresees our disasters, and not being able to hinder them, advanceth our punishment.

To understand this, we must know that wisdom and power are but one and the same thing in God, that which deliberates, is that wth resolves, and that which undertakes, is that which puts in execution. If from Divine perfections we passe to the Divine persons we shall finde that the Son, who is the wisdom of his Father, is likewise his power, that he who is his thought, is also his strength; he doth fore∣cast designes, and finisheth them, he forms enterprizes, & executes them, he is that Pallace proceeding from Iupiters brain, which past for the Goddess both of sciences and arms, & which was no lesse recom∣mendable for her valour, then for her wisdom: hence it is that he is called by severall names in the holy Scripture, and that he is some∣time called the a 1.76 word sometimes the arm of his Father. But in man these qualities are divided, he who is wise is not always strong, and when he hath wisely resolved, he must borrow aide from some other vertue, to execute his resolution with courage. Wisdom is ti∣merous, because cold; valour bold, because hot, and as their quali∣ties require severall tempers, they do not oft times meet in one and the same person: but say Nature should work a miracle by agreeing them, and that a man should have as much courage as conduct, his power would never equall his b 1.77 wisdom, and after having given wise Counsell, he would not be answerable for the event; there is a So∣vereigne Providence which hath reserved unto it self the disposall of all things, and which takes delight in giving bad successe, to the best resolutions, to teach us that our happiness, and unhappinesse is in the hands thereof. Politicians are surprized in their cunning: that which happens well unto them in one affair, falls out clean otherwise, when heaven forsakes them.

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This made the Pagans say that fortune laughs at wisdom, and that to confound our presumption, she had so ordered affairs, as that hap∣pinesse and wisdom did not always keep Company: she makes fools happy when she cannot make them wise, and not being able to make wise men fools, she makes them unfortunate, c 1.78 whence it is that Po∣liticians doubt whether good fortune or wisdom be the more requi∣site ingredient to the composure of a puissant Prince. Wisdom is more honourable, but good fortune is more certein, wisdom furnisheth ad∣vice, but good fortune gives the event: Wisdom comes from earth, but good fortune from Heaven: therefore Sylla, who understood this secret very well, chose rather the name of fortunate than of great, or wise, and was of an opinion that an Empire favoured by fortune, was better established, than one governed by wisdom. This confession makes all Polititians despair, after having built Altars to their Idol, d 1.79 they must erect Temples to providence; and acknowledge that it is she, which gives Scepters to shepheards, which overthrows the Thrones of the wise, which inspires the timerous with courage, and infuseth fear into the heart of the most hardy; which snatcheth Law∣rell from out the hands of the victorious to crown the conquered therewithall. To atribute good successe to humane wisdom is to of∣fend Divine providence, in all our enterprizes we must leave much to her guidance, and in executions we must give all to her Glory, she is jealous of this acknowledgement, and who fails to give her this Honour, never failes to be unfortunate. 'Tis said that a certein Gre∣cian named Timothy, recounted to the Athenians, the victories which he had gotten over their enemies, vaunted that his victories were wrought by his wisdom, and not by fortune, that they owed their obligation to his good guidance, and not to his good luck. Though * 1.80 those insolent speeches were onely uttered against an idol which could not resent them, Divine providence forbore not to revenge her self upon this generall, not suffering him to have any good suc∣cesse, in any thing that he undertook afterwards; to let him know that his former good successes were not so much the effects of wis∣dom as of Fortune.

Though these two qualities which accompany wisdom, are suffi∣cient enough to tarnish her glory, the third is much more injurious to her, for ignorance and weaknesse bear their excuses with them, and there are glorious vertues which have not much more power, nor much more light, but guile is odious, and vertue turns to sin, when

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it becomes deceitfull; yet this is a quality which seldom forsakes hu∣mane wisdom, all her cunning is criminall and being often interessed, she is almost always g f 1.81 unjust couznage is so naturall to her, as that all her counsels are there withall infected she approves of cheating when we may reap profit thereby; and because by the Laws of War we are permitted to overcome our enemies, either by stratagem, or by force, she thinks she may deal so with all men.

She disperseth her guile into all worldly commerce, be it either that particular men end their difference by processe at Law, be it that Marchants traffick with strangers, be it that Princes treate by their Ambassadours, wisdom fenceth her self onely by cunning, and in all her imployments, he who knows best how to coozen, is the ablest man. Thus is cheating mixt with wisdom; and those who are not guided by charity, cannot be wise unlesse they be deceivers.

Though Pagan vertues be oft disguised vices, which under a counterfeit beauty hide reall uglines, yet there is not any which hath a neerer allyance to vice than wisdom hath. Exempt vain glory from temperance in the unbeleevers, and Temperance shall be without blemish; and separate force from ambition, and ambition shall be praise worthy; but wisdom is inter-mingled withall sins; interest is her motive, injustice her originall, deceit her interpreter, and dissi∣mulation her Counsellour: she hazards innocency, to evade infamy, she violates Nature to preserve a peece of Earth, and to settle her own State she overturns that of strangers. All her right consists in might, under any colour of pretence, which her cunning may pretend unto, she takes up arms to defend it, and thinks, that all war is just whereby she may be aggrandised, all her Maximes are blasphemies, which give against Religion, or society; she frames Gods, and Laws after her own Mode or fashion: she esteems whatsoever withstands her interest to be weaknes of spirit, and is firm of opinion, that the Hea∣vens g 1.82 must do miracles to make her tractable. In fine, in the State of corrupted Nature, it is hard to be wise, and not a Cheater. * 1.83 Tis there∣fore that the Son of God, when he instructeth his Disciples, never adviseth them to be wise as Serpents, without obliging them to be Innocent as Doves; because innocencie without wisdom would turn to folly, and wisdom without innocencie, convert to guile. Tertullian descanting upon this passage, says, that were it in his choise he would prefer the innocencie of the Dove before the wisdom

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of the Serpent, and that if he could not shun the two evils, which accompany these two vertues, he would rather fall into that of Fol∣ly, than that of Guile; Indeed the Scripture gives the preeminency to Innocency, as by this comparison; for the Dove is much more pleasing than is the Serpent, she is the Emblem of Innocency and love, she expresseth her selfe by sighes, she was chosen by God, in the beginning of the world for the Messenger of Peace, and to advertise man of the Deluges decrease; in the fulnesse of time, she had the honour to denote Jesus Christ, and to instruct the chiefest of all Prophets; The Holy i 1.84 Ghost hath made it his mysticall Image, and when he would become visible, he took upon him the forme of a Dove, but the Serpent creeps upon the earth, hides himself in the grasse, wraps himself in his own folds, and ne∣ver discovers but one part of himselfe; he served for an Interpreter to the evill spirit, to expresse himselfe by, and for an officer to seduce man; this was the first visible shape the Devill put on, and we never see this Animal, but we are touched with some secret horrour, which teacheth us that the Devill is odious, and wisdome dangerous. This is also the vertue of self-love, which endeavours to restore man to what he hath lost, which withstands Gods purposes, which gives against the lawes of his Providence and Justice, and which under a pretence of freeing us from those miseries which afflict us, endevours to make in each of us a proud Tyrant of a rebellious Slave.

The sixth Discourse.

That there is no true Temperance, nor Iustice amongst the Pagans.

IT is not without reason, that I joyn these two vertues in the same discourse, and that I make one onely Panegyrick for Tem∣perance, and for Justice; for though all the vertues are allyed, and that proceeding from the same Father, they resemble one ano∣ther, yet these two have so great a relation one to another, as they may be termed both by one name; Justice may be termed a Pub∣lique Temperance, and Temperance a particular Justice; for Tem∣perance doth the same thing in men, which Justice doth in States; and these two vertues have no other care than to entertain Peace in War, and Equality in the difference of Conditions. Justice rules

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Monarches, stifles Divisions in their births, makes Princes Gracious, and Subjects obedient, she gives unto every one what belongs unto him, she weighs mens reasons, and considers not their qualities, she condemnes Kings if they be faulty, absolves Slaves if they be innocent; she is not to be frightned with threats, nor bribed by promises. If she commit any fault, 'tis surprisall, and her intenti∣ons are so upright, as if she doth any ill, 'tis under the appearance of God; when she forsakes k 1.85 Kingdoms, they turn to Tyrannies, when Tyrants follow her advice, they become lawfull Kings, and when she once enters a Kingdom, she always brings plenty and pro∣sperity with her: Politicians do also mingle all vertues with her, and judge that to be perfect, sufficeth to be just. The Roman Common∣wealth had not increased, nor preserved her selfe, had it not been for this vertue, she confesseth she doth not so much owe her conqests to the valour of his souldiers, as to the Justice of her Commanders; and that if she had gained Victories by Combating, they had wonne Provinces by their Decrees. This is so undoubted a truth, as Cicero in those admirable Composures of his, touching a Commonwealth, acknowledgeth that a l 1.86 State cannot subsist without the help of this vertue, that it changeth Name, so soon as it loseth Justice, and that it ceaseth to be profitable to it's Subjects, when it ceaseth to be just to it's Allyes. A Kingdom without Lawes is a meer Tyranny; and Aristocracy without Order, is but a Faction of the most eminent men, and Democracy without Policy, is but a confused Popularity, which cannot keep from falling into the hands of a Tyrant.

But though the Romans be so passionate for Justice, and that they have been obliged by their self-Interest to reverence her, yet were not they more just than other men, and their Republique hath been more enlarged by their injustice, then by their valour; she was borne with the Sword in her hand, and never fore-went this war∣like humour, which doth not much agree with the sweetnesse of Lawes, her first attempt was the ravishing of the m 1.87 Sabine, and she sufficiently witnessed her Conquests were Tyrannicall, since her Marriages were unjust; uder pretence of assisting her Allyes, she oft-times opprest her Neigbours; she took Orphan Princes in∣to her protection, to bereave them of their Kingdoms, and being more carefull of preserving her reputation than her Conscience; she onely sought for pretexts to invade her Enemies Territories,

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when she had conquered all Italy, she studied how to conquer the whole World, and that she might at the same time trouble all the parts there∣of, she sent Armies into Africa, Europe, and Asia; her Pride was not lessened by het greatness, her increasing served onely to augment her ambition: and had she not turned her weapon upon her selfe, to undoe her selfe, the world would as yet have groaned under her Tyranny. 'Tis true, she did some Actions which wonne her Credit, she would not vanquish by Poison, when she thought she might do it by the Sword; she advertised Pyrrhus of his Physicians perfidious∣nesse, and rendred to▪ Fallisci that treacherous Pedant which had betrayed his Disciples to her; but in both these exploits, either n 1.88 Glory or Interest was the rule of her Justice; she Gloried in overcoming an Enemy by Courtesie, whom she could not overcome by Valour; and won the hearts of Parents by sending their Children back unto them.

She treated Kings, and the People a like favourably; for she either presupposed some wrong done, that she might have some sub∣ject to declare war against them; or she offered them her alliance, to engage them in servitude, or took them from their Allyes, that she might weaken them; or raised some revolts in their States, to ruine them. o 1.89 There have been Generous Nations, who have preferred death before her Tyranny, and who have chosen rather to make try∣all of her cruelty, than of her servitude. Numantium & Carthage could never endure her Insolence: the one burnt her houses to preserve her Inhabitants; the other broke her Treaty of Peace to regain her li∣berty, either by war or death. Gule had never submitted to her Laws, had she not hoped to revenge herself on the Romans under Caesars con∣duct, and Germany had never submitted her neck to the yoke, if Rome had imployed nothing but her force & valour against it. In fine, this proud Republique, which hath wearied so many Poets, made so many Historians sweat, and stained the Glory of all those Nations, whose Estates she usurped; wonne more by Treaties, than by Com∣bates; and hath borne away more Victories by wiles, than by valour. She thought those battells most honourable, which cost least bloud; and gave him the greatest Triumphes, who could vanquish without Fighting. 'Tis true, her Laws were just, but so ill observed; as new ones must be made to maintain the old ones, till the Number thereof grew so great, as she found by experience, that a State is never sicker than when it needs so many remedies. Wherefore St. Astine consider∣ing

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all the cheats which Rome had o 1.90 used to raise her Greatnesse, con∣fesseth o 1.91 that a Common-wealth cannot be just, unlesse it be Christi∣an; that her Laws cannot be holy, if Jesus Christ be not the Author of them; and that her people cannot be happy, unlesse they be en∣lightned by Faith, and cherished by Charity.

The Romans Temperance was no truer than their Justice, and if the State were faulty in her Policy, hi Subjects were as much to blame in their Guidance. For Temperance formeth men by her mildnesse, governs such passions as promise us pleasure; with∣stands delightfull Enemies, stops their fury in it's birth, dis-abuseth the understanding which they endeavour to surprize; and as a wise Sovereign makes use either of punishment, or reward to reduce them to their duties; she maintains the Authority of reason by her Counsels, and he who guides himself by her Motions, doth nothing of unwor∣thy. p 1.92 She never thinks that profitable, which is not honest, and the Pleasure which delights the senses, never pleaseth if it be unjust. This vertuebreeds peace in our soules, calmes the stormes of hope and desire; and doth so well govern them, as these Giddy-headed Passions, never take wing, but by her Orders. For the temperate man can q look on beauty, without coveting i; he possesseth riches, yet loveth them not; he tasts pleasure, not surfetting thereon; and deals so uprightly with his body, as it is neither his slave, nor yet his Tyrant. This vertue being solovely, steals away the hearts of her Enemies, and makes her self be admired even by those that persecute her: the lascivious praise her, whil'st they make war against her, they wish that such women as they have corrupted, were chast, and that such as commit Adultery with them, would be true unto them. We must not therefore wonder if the Romans were ravished with her beauty, that they have praised her; and that there hath been some Commanders, who amidst the licenciousness of war, have sup∣prest their Passions, that they might purchase the glorious Title of q 1.93 Temperate; they thought that to overcome pain, they must over∣come pleasure; that before they fight for their Country, they must fight for reason; & that it was not to be hoped for that he who could not resist a womans beauty, could defend himself against a souldiers valour. They perswaded themselves that temperance was the first step to fortitude, and that one judged of the victory which a Commander might get over his Enemy; by what he had won over his sensuality.

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Thus great men did study this vertue early; s 1.94 she was their first Apprentisage, and when the bloud which boiles in the veines, kind∣led in them unclean desires, they quenched the fire thereof by the help of temperance. One of the Scipioes won more glory by vanqui∣shing his love than by quelling the pride of Carthage; he purchased more credit in Spain by his Continency, then by his valour: and the quitting of a famous beauty, and free gift of her to her sweet-heart got him a whole Province, he won many Battels, by defending himself from a Maide. And his enemies were perswaded that their Souldiers could not overcome him, whom their Yeomen could not corrupt; this combat is heightened above his victories, his valour is never spoken of, without mention made of his t 1.95 continencie, and as oft as men talk of the taking of Carthage, they adde thereunto the re∣stitution of this Princesse. All the Circumstances of this action are so remarkable, as they are not to be omitted without injury to this gal∣lant man. He commanded a victorious army, to which the laws of war made all things lawfull, which were not by them forbidden: he had tane a Town by assault, the resistance whereof had stirr'd up his anger; 'twas thought that to astonish all Spain, he would have made it a cruell example, and that the bloud of the inhabitants should have been that wherewith he would have quenched the flames which devoured their houses; that he would have made victimes of all the Prisoners, and that if the Womens lives were preserved, it should onely be to bereave them of their Honours. In this belief they pre∣sent him with a glorious beauty, whose misfortune it was to be im∣mured within that fatall Town: she was unfortunate enough to move pitty, but too fair, not to provoke love. The Souldiers were perswaded that their General would suffer himself to be vanquished in his victory, and that he would become his captives captive; they expected to have seen him once overcome, whom they had alwaies seen victorious. Though they had his continencie in great esteem, they did think it was not proof good enough against so exquisite a beauty; and they could not imagine that a man who was yet in the prime of his youth, should have power to withstand the Allurements of so fair a Maide, who had nothing but her tears to defend her self withall. The truth is, his eyes thought to have betrayed his heart, and u 1.96 he found how difficult a thing it is to behold a rare beauty, and not love it; his passion would have perswaded him, that without

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injuring his greatness he might become his captives captive; he had examples enough to excuse his fault, flattery would have authorized it, and if he would have listned to his Domesticks, he had neer trium∣phed over his love. Amidst this his trouble, he endeavoured to comfort her who caused his pain, and would give security to her, who intrench upon his liberty. He understood by her, that though her fortune had made her a Prisoner, she was by birth a Princesse; that her Parents had promised her to a young Prince, and that her Fate had cast her into the hands of her enemies; the knowledge of these particulars, and that his Prisoner was of so high a rank; was enough to make Scipio resolve to give her her. Liberty: he made her Father and her husband be sought for, who came up∣on his word into Carthage; every one looked for an event answer∣able to the passion which gave it life: some think he will demand her in marriage, others, that he will inquire into her birth, and see whether without offending the Glory of the Scipioes he may take his prisoner to be his wife, some fear least he will begin his Mar∣riage by Murther, and secure his sute by his rivalls death: few be∣lieve that he will betray his love, and by one and the same act of Justice, restore a daughter to her Father, u 1.97 and a Mistris to her servant: this mean while, when he knew: that this Princesse was no lesse Nobly born then beautifull, that her Father was Gover∣nour of a Province, and that her servant did Command an Army, he presently delivered her into their hands, and would no longer suffer his eyes to behold a beauty, which might invite him to do an un∣just act; and to Crown this Noble Action, x 1.98 he gave her the money which was brought him for her ransom; as part of her portion, to the end that all Spain might know that Scipio knew aswell how to Triumph over Avarice as over Love.

I foresee I cannot condemn this Action without under-going the jealousie of such as favour the party of the Infidels, that I shall draw either publique envie or publique hatred upon me, if I shall question whether so glorious a victory deserve the name of vertue or no, and that men will think my love to Saint Austine hath made me forgoe the love of truth; yet according to his principles we must confesse, that this vertue is a sin, that not deri∣ving from charity, y 1.99 it proceeded from self love; that Scipio did

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but ence himself from one by an other, and that his keeping himself from Incontinencie proceeded from vain glory. Infidels are slaves to the Devil, their will is in his hands, and as long as this cruell Tyrant doth possesse them, he permits them not to do any one good Action, out of a good motive, he may suffer them to resist the violence of Love, or the fury of Avarice; but he corrupts their intentions, and never with draws them from one evil, but he ingageth them in another, they shun an ill step, to fall into a precipice, and their will is so subject unto his, as after long deliberation, they alwaies put on the worst resolution. This unjust Sovereign fits himself to their inclinations that he may undo them, he adviseth them onely to such things as he knows doth please them, and when he gives any counsel, he alwaies considers their honour or desire, he is content that they may practise one ver∣tue, so as they mix a vice with it, he cares not though they over∣come love, so as they give way to vain glory, & as learned Tertullian saith, z 1.100 he cares not much whether he dam men by debauchery or by incontinencie; Thus I doubt not but that 'twas ambition which kept Scipio chast, that it was the sweetnesse of glory which charmed the like of Pleasure, and that in so difficult an Action 'twas reputation which he proposed unto himself for recom∣pence. All Conquerours were of his Humour, they left the Pillage of the enemy to their Souldiers, they parted the Pro∣vinces which they won amongst their Domesticks, they made their slaves Sovereigns, and of all the advantages which they got by their victories they only reserved glory to themselves. This man feared to lose his reputation by losing his Liberty, he was ashamed to suffer himself to be taken by his Captive, and he would leave no shamefull marks of his defeats, where he had left such glori∣ous proofs of his victories. Vain glory was the soul of his vertue, his pride increased whilest his incontinencie decreased, and Scipio was a slave to ambition, whilest he commanded over un∣cleannesse.

That which hath been said of the continencie of this Generall of an Army; may be affirmed of Lucretia's Chastity with this of difference, that hers, being accompanyed with Murder, can ad∣mit of no excuse, nor ought in any wise to be praised. For though her death seem to be generous, and that the Romans

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who look upon her as the beginning of their liberty, would have it to passe for the Noblest sacrifice which was ever offered up to chastitie; yet did it deserve punishment in a State well policed. And they might have revenged themselves of living a 1.101 Lucretia, up∣on the body of Lucretia being dead. They would disguise the crime, and make it seem a vertue; not considering the unjustnesse thereof, they looked onely upon the publique interest, and since this Murther had driven the Tarquins from Rome, they had ground enough to make thereon a Panegyricke; they therefore place Lu∣cretia in the head, or first file of all Chaste Women, they blame Fortune; for having immurde so stout a soul in so weak a body, they excuse the sin by the effects thereof, and cannot blame a murder which was the rise of the Roman Common-wealth. They justifie her Chastity by her death, they excuse her death by her Chastity, and maintain that as she preserved her Chastity in a forced Adul∣tery, she did not violate Justice in a voluntary self-Murther. But truely I finde that Saint Austine hath so justly blamed her as that she is not justly to be defended; and that he hath made a Dilem∣ma, to which the subllest Philosophers cannot answer. Whence it is (saith he) b 1.102 that he who hath committed the sin, is not as se∣verely punished, as she that suffered it, or on whom it was com∣mitted? the one did lose his Country, the other lost her life. If you exempt her from the unchastnesse because she was violated, how will you exempt her from injustice, since she was the death of an Innocent? c 1.103 your Roman Laws, Pappal to you, which will not have the guilty to be condemned unheard, what would you say if the crime were in a mooted case put to you, and what sentence would you give, if it were made evident unto you that she that suffered death was not guilty, but Innocent? would you not severely punish such a piece of injustice? yet this is Lucretias case; cruell Lucretia, hath kill'd chast Lucretia, whom Tarquin had violated but not corrupted. Give judgement according to E∣vidence; and if you think you cannot punish her because she is dead; praise her not because she was a Murderess. For if to excuse her Murther, you wrong her chastity, and if you think she kill her self to expiate the pleasure she conceived in thàt sin, 'tis not d 1.104 Tarquin that is onely guilty, Lucretia was as faulty as he: take∣heed

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what judgement you give upon this occasion; these faults are so linkt together, as they are not to be parted; by taking from the Adultery, you adde to the Murther, and by excusing the Murther, you aggravate the Adultery: you can finde no out∣let from this Labyrinth; and you know not how to answer to this Dilemma which I propose unto you. e 1.105 If she were unchast why do you praise her? And if she were chast, why did she kill her self? If you would rather acquit her of Adultery, than of Murther, con∣fesse at least that it was not so much the love of Chastity; as the apprehension of dishonour which made her take up a dagger: This Roman Lady, and consequently haughty, was more carefull of preserving her glory, than her Innocencie, she feared least she might be thought guilty of some fault, if she should out-live the out-rage that was done her; and thought she might be judged to be confederate with Tarquin, should she not take venge∣ance on her self: Christian Women, who have had the like misfor∣tune, f 1.106 have not imitated her despaire, they have not punisht the faults of others in themselves; nor committed Homicide, to revenge a Rape: The witnesse of their Conscience, was the glo∣ry of their Chastity; and it sufficed them that God who is the searcher of hearts, knew their Intentions; and shutting up all their vertue in their obedience, they went not about to violate Gods Laws, to save themselves from the calumnie of men. Thus are all the vertues of the Pagans nothing but Pride; their Justice; be it ei∣ther slack, or severe, is interessed: Their Continency is vain glo∣rious, and their courage, hath in it more of despaire then of Fortitude.

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The seventh Discourse.

That the Fortitude of Pagans, is but weaknesse, or vanity.

Though all Vertues be delightfull, and that they have suf∣ficent charmes to make them appear amiable even to their Enemies, g * 1.107 we must confesse that Fortitude bears most of lustre with it, and that severity which doth accompany it, doth not detract any thing from it's beauty. Justice is reverenced even by her persecutours; Tyrants are affraid of her shadow, and after having bootlesly imployed violence for their defence, they have been fain to have recourse to Justice for their preservation: wisdome is adored by all Politicians, a man must have lost his wits not to value her, if she be not esteemed by fools, she is admired by wisemen; all sorts of people confesse that she is as necessary for the Govern∣ment of private Houses, as of States. All parts of Morality take her for their Guide; and without the assistance of this Vertue, they can neither make an honest man, a States-man, nor a Father of a Family. Temperance is beloved by all men, her Enemies respect her, in those that love her, they confesse that pleasures can neither be innocent, nor yet delightfull, when she is absent; and that pleasure without temperance is the punishment of the unchast. But certainly all the Vertues hide their heads, when Fortitude displayes it's beauties. These Stars are eclipsed, when the other Sun ap∣pears; and people cease from looking upon Justice in Princes, pru∣dence in Politicians, and Temperance in Philosophers, when they consider the courage of the unfortunately Innocent.

Though this Illustrious Vertue be sincere, and that the pain wherewith she is assailed make her unquiet, yet hath she allure∣ments which win her more admirers than the other have lo∣vers: There are but few that look after her, but all admire her, and that because persecution must precede courage, every one is content to reverence a vertue, which must cost so dear to come by; she in-nobles such as possesse her, she comforts the condition of

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slaves, heightens the Majesty of Soveraignes, augments the beauty of women, and of all the ornaments which adorne either the minde, or the body, there is none more Majesticall than Fortitude; if we will believe Philosophers, there is nothing on earth more worthy of Gods looking on, h 1.108 than a man who withstands sorrow and mis∣fortune; he despiseth all that Glory which dazels us; the pride of our Houses is the mark at which his Thunder-bolts are aimed; the Magnificence of our Palaces, are but the Spoiles of Quarries, or of Forrests; those Pyramides which adde to the wonders of the world, are but heaps of stones, torne from out the bowels of the earth; these Armies which make whole Provinces to groan, either by rea∣son of their numbers, or their disorders, these great bodies which pour forth bloud from out al their veines to re-fill those rivers, which they have drained, are but swarmes of Bees, which decide their diffe∣rences by fighting: and God looks upon the Glory of Kings, as wise men do upon a Stage-Play; but he delights to look upon a noble minded man, who grapples with sorrow, who sees his riches borne away without any agitation of spirit, and who in losse of ho∣nour, life, or liberty, preserves his courage.

If the earth produce nothing which may make God stay to look upon it, and if generous actions merit not that God should busie himselfe about them, yet must we confesse that they are approved of by all people; and that men do more admire a Philosopher who suffers death patiently, than a Monarch who governs his State with Justice. He through his constancy triumphs over whatsoever the world hath of most furious; since he overcomes pain, he may well vanquish pleasure; since he despiseth death, he may laugh at for∣tune; and since, he fears not the threats of Kings, he may well e∣nough sence himselfe against their promises: he tramples under foot all those pleasures which we seek after, and all the pains and sorrows which we apprehend: the greatnesse of the danger incourageth him to battell, i 1.109 the more difficulty he foresees, the more glory he hopes for; he values not that much, which cost him but little; he tries himselfe when fortune spares him, and to keep himselfe in breath, he makes Enemies, when he meeteth with none. Past ages have pro∣duced men, who have not changed countenance amidst Tortures; their Executioners could not wrest moans from out their monthes, nor make them confesse so much as by a sigh the pains which they

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indured; there have been some, who to triumph over Tyrants, have laughed amidst their punishments: such hath been their constancy, as that Joy did not abandon them even in that condition: their cou∣rage seemed to make them insensible; and that by being accustomed to torments, they were grown familiar to them. Thus did Scevola defie Tarquin the proud, his whole hand mist him, and his burning hand struck him with astonishment: hee escaped the Princes anger by preventing it, he pierc't his heart, whose body he could not hurt; and Tarquin judging of the Fortitude of all Romans, by that of Scevola, he feared to have those men for his Enemies, who fear∣ed not the fire. But not to adde to this discourse by examples, it may suffice to listen unto the reason of Philosophers, and to acknowledge with them, what advantages Fortitude hath over all other vertues.

Man began to be unhappy, when once he became criminall, his subjects became his enemies, the Elements declared war against him, and those elements which went to his composure, divided themselves, that they might alter his temper, and shorten his life: Pain and pleasure agreed together for his undoing, life and death were reconciled to make him suffer. Morall Philosophy, found out vertues to succour him, and every one of these faithfull Allies un∣dertook to defeat an Enemy: wisdome undertook to prevent far distant mischiefes, and by her addresse to avoid them: Justice looks upon her to end al the differences which self-love; and Interest should breed amongst men. Temperance charged her selfe with ruling voluptuousnesse, and with hindring such pleasing Enemies from seducing reason: and k 1.110 Fortitude, as most couragious of all the rest, undertook to fight against pain, and to overcome death. This cru∣ell Enemy to Man-kind defying the power thereof, took a hundred shapes upon him, to astonish the others constancy, he called in Tor∣tures, and sicknesse to his aid, he invented Gallowses, and Wheeles, he extended Racks, incensed Lions, and Bears, armed the Elements to satisfie his cruelty, and made torments, and punishments, of whatsoever nature had produced for our use. All these vertues were siezed on by astonishment: when they saw so many Monsters con∣spire mans ruine, wisdome confessed, she wanted addresse to molli∣fie them: Justice profest, she had not sufficient Authority to sup∣presse them; and Temperance protested; she wanted vigour to restrain them: Onely Fortitude promised to withstand them:

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and though she saw her selfe, forsaken by her Sisters, she resolved to charge upon them: wisdome offered her her light, l 1.111 Justice her se∣verity, and Temperance her moderation. With these weak Forces she enters the pitcht Field; where she had for assistance hope, and boldnesse. The former inhartned her by her promises, the second promised lesse, but performed more; for she discovered unto her the weakness of her Enemies, and taught her on what part she might assail them. Fortitude, thus assisted, ingaged her selfe upon all occasions; she received as many blows as she gave, she mingled her bloud with the bloud of her enemies; she past all her life in this exercise, & if she took any ease after a fight, 'twas onely to prepare her self against those that were to ensue. By all this discourse, 'tis easily seen, that the de∣signes of Fortitude are much greater than those of all the other ver∣tues, & that it is not without reason that they yield the Honour to her, since they dare not appear upon such occasions of Combates as she doth, and bears away the victory.

Though Fortitude be thus beautifull in Idea, yet is she but weake amongst the Pagans, and covers true blemishes under deceitfull ap∣pearances; for as in them n 1.112 she cannot have charity, for her originall, she derives oft-times from self-love, and inherits all her Fathers weaknesses; it is her own Glory she must seek, since she is ignorant of Gods Glory; it is anger which must give her heat, revenge which must provoke her, and vain glory, which must in-animate her, since 'tis not Faith that doth assist her. All these passions mixt together, make up the greatest part of her greatnesse; and when one shall examine her intentions, or motives, he shall finde that her noblest exploits, are but magnificall sins. All those men who in ancient times have been esteemed couragious, have contemned onely pain to purchase o 1.113 Glory, they have given their life for a little smoak, and in so unjust a battering have sufficiently shewn, that their Fortitude, was not reall, since she wanted Justice, and wisdome. In effect, their most glorious Actions have their defaults, their valour is nothing but despair, and all that the Roman Eloquence calls courage, is but Pusillanimity. Certainly Cato was the wise man of Rome, he held there the same Rank which Socrates did amongst the Athenians; his death goes for the chiefest testimony of his courage; and Histo∣rians never speak thereof, without highly praising it; he had fruit∣lesly endeavoured to appease the Civill Wars, he sided, which the

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Common-wealth, whilest every one took part either with Caesar, or p 1.114 Pompey; he remained free, whilest every one had chosen a Ma∣ster, he assisted the dying Common-wealth with his counsell and his weapons; he opposed his courage to Fortune, and if this blinde hus-wife could have seen his merit, she would have been inamored thereof. After having given all these Testmonies of his affection to his Country, what lesse could he do, then secure his own Liberty by his death, and dip that Innocent sword in his bloud, which the q 1.115 civil wars could not defile? he therefore considerately prepares himself for this blow, he dissembles his design to couzen his friends, he spent the night either in reading or taking rest, he encourageth himself to die, by the thought of Immortality; when he was well perswaded, he would go see what he had beleeved, and by a gene∣rous blow, free his soul from the prison of her body: his hand did not serve his courage faithfully, his Friends, who came into his suc∣cour, bound up his wounds, and endeavoured to alter his designe; he seemed to approve of their reasons, so to free himself from their Importunities: but when he was alone, he tore off his apparel, o∣pened his wounds and ended that with his hands, which he had be∣gun with his sword. Fortune would prolong his death to try his constancie, and this Tragedy seemed so pleasing to him, as he en∣deavoured to spin it out, that he might the longer taste the pleasure thereof. r 1.116 Seneca complaines, that Eloquence is not happy enough to make Panegyrickes upon this death. He prefers it before all the battels of Conquerours, he calls all the Gods to witnesse it, he leaves us in doubt, whether Cato be not more Glorious then his Iu∣piter; he is troubled that his age knew him not, Complains that the Common wealth, which should have raised him above Caesar and Pompey, hath placed him beneath Vatimus and Clodius; and to erect a stately Trophye to this vanquisher of fear and Death, he sayes, that Cato, and Liberty died both on a day, and were buried in one and the same Tombe.

Yet a man need not to be much enlightened, to observe the de∣faults of a so well disguised death; for if Cato be to be praised for having killed himself, all those that did survive him deserve to be blamed. 'Twas weaknesse in Cicero to have recourse to Caesars cle∣mencie; 'twas either Folly or Fearfulnesse in him, not to despair of the Republiques well-fare, and yet to reserve himself to raise her up

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after her Fall. But not to make use of so weak a reason to condemn him; who sees not that pride had a greater share in this Action than Courage? Who does not think that Cato was prouder than Caesar, and that it was not integrity, but want of Courage which put the Poneyard in his hand? Who knows not that it was rather weak∣nesse, than Constancie that made him die? had he had courage enough to have under-gone adversity, he would never have had re∣course to despair; he wanted patience in his misfortune, and if he could have endured Caesars victories, s 1.117 he had not Committed self-Murther; For if he thought it shame, to beg his life of his enemies, wherefore did he Counsell his Son to do it? If he thought death so glorious, wherefore did he disswade his friends from it. If he thought the t 1.118 Common-wealth might be restored by their Counsels, wherefore did he deny her his? and if he advised every one to seek for mercy from the Conquerour, wherefore did he by his errour prevent it? What ever mischief threatens us, we must never flie to despair, though the decree be pronounced, the Scaffold set up, and that all things assure us we must die, we must not play the Hang∣mans part, nor hasten our death to free us from misery. This is to make our selves Ministers of our enemies cruelty, to excuse their fault by preventing it, and to commit Parricide, to exempt them from man slaughter.

Socrates, who was not better instructed than Cato, was more generous, because more Patient; he might have freed himself from Poyson by a sword, and by fasting five or six dayes have acquitted himself from his Enemies violence: yet he spent a whole Month in Prison, he affordeth death leisure to imploy all its horrours to try his constancie, he thought he was to give way to the Laws of his Country, and not to refuse his last instructions to his friends, they intreating for them. If this Pagan Philosopher thought he ought not to attempt any thing against his own life, because he was in the hands of justice, no man can with reason make himself away: for from the first moment of his birth he is subject to the Laws of God, and unless he will do an unjust act, he must waite, till he that put him into the world take him from thence; to hasten our death, is to intrench up∣on his rights, to kill our selves, is u 1.119 to overthrow his workmanship; and to bereave him of the least of his Subjects, is to attempt against his Sovereignty. In this case we have lesse power over our selves,

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than over others; for we may kill an enemy in our own defence, but it is not lawfull to shun his fury, by preventing it. We must wait till the same Judge, which hath pronounced the decree of our Death, make it be executed; and it belongs to one and the same Power, either to shew favour or Justice to the guilty. All those stately words which flatter our vain Glory, and do incourage our despair, do not excuse our fault, when we attempt upon our owne lives. Na∣ture teacheth us sufficiently by those tacite instructions which she gi∣veth us, that if it be treacherie to abandon a place which a Prince hath committed to our charge, 'tis perfidiousnesse to forgo the body, which God hath given us the guidance of; and which he hath joyned so straightly to our soul, as that it is a part of our selves. In fine; no reason can justifie despair: the number of our enemies, the evils of the present life, the Good of the Future, the cruelty of sicknesses, rigour of servitude, sweetnesse of liberty, strength of Temptations, nor the very fear of sin, are not considerations sufficient to make us hasten our death; 'tis alwaies poornesse of x 1.120 spirit, not to be able to suffer the evil which we will shun by Homicide, Pride hath lesse part in this crime then weaknesse, and whatsoever praise the despe∣rate man expects for his attempt, wise men will alwaies beleeve, that if he had courage enough to bear the miseries of life, he would never have had recourse to so cowardly a remedy. Al the Fortitude of Phi∣losophers is then but meer cowardise, those wounds which despair & impatience have made them give themselves, deserve more blame then they have received praise; a man cannot approve of their fault without becoming guilty thereof, and when Seneca imploys his weak reasons to excuse Catoes murther, he lets us see, that he knew not wherein greatnesse of courage consisted, since he made it consist in an action, which is more familiar to women, then men; to slaves then to free persons; and to weak than to strong spirits.

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The eigth Discourse.

That Friendship without Grace is alwaies inter∣essed.

IF the vertue of Pagans have her stains, we must not wonder if their Friendship have her defaults: sin hath corrupted the best things, and her malice hath left almost nothing in man, y 1.121 which doth not deserve reproach or punishment: since a sinner is upon bad termes with God, he cannot be upon good terms with himself, nor with his Neighbour. If he love himself, tis in excesse, and if he love another, tis for interest; his will being in the power of his e∣nemie, he can hardly make good use of it; whatsoever he does, he is in danger of sinning; his love is not much more Innocent than is his hatred, and be it that he loves his friends, or hates his enemies, tis with so little justice, as he stands alwaies in need of pardon, profane Philosophie prefers Friendship before vertue; she gives her such prai∣ses, as taste of Flattery; and if we will beleeve her reasons, she will perswade us, that the joynt uniting of Hearts, is the greatest content∣ment which man can partake of on Earth. 'Tis the knot of Socie∣ty, without which States cannot be preserved, nor Families main∣tained.

Nature made this project in production of woman, whom she drew from the rib of man, to the end, that the resemblance and e∣quality which she placed between them might oblige them to z 1.122 love one another; she renews this in brothers, who proceed from the same Originall, and who are shaped in the same womb, to the end, that all things may invite them to love. Vertue endeavours to make this good more universal, and seeing that nature did not give all men brethren, she would give them Friends; & repair their losse with usu∣ry. For though brothers proceed from the same stem, they are not alwayes of the same Humour; they differ often more in their Inclinations, then in their Countenances: but say there were any thing of resemblance in their humours, the dividing of Estates divides hearts; and Interest, (which hath to do every where) doth many times ruine their best intelligence. But a 1.123 Friendship (more powerfull than Nature) makes a paty

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between those whom she will unite; the unity of hearts, is that which makes all things common, and the words Thine, and Mine, which sets division between Brethren, cannot do the like between Friends. Nature leaves us no choise, in her alliances, we are enga∣ged before we be capable of choise; and she oft-times makes us love a Monster, because he is our Brother; but friendship gives us a free∣dome of choise, she permits us to take the best, and we are onely to blame our own folly, if in the liberty she leaves us, we make choise of one for a friend, who deserves not our affection. Our Brethren are the workmanship of nature, she did not advise with us, when she gave them life; and not having the care of producing them, we delight not in preserving them. b 1.124 But our friends are the children of our will; we formed them, when we chose them; we think our selves concernedin their losse, because we have laboured in the ac∣quiring of them. And as Mothers expose themselves for their Chil∣dren, because they are their workmanship, so men expose them∣selves for their friends, because they are their Productions.

But not to spend more time in observing the advantages which friendship hath over and above nature; we must confesse, there is nothing in the world which ought not to give place to friendship: Law, which preserves Estates, which punisheth vice, defends ver∣tue, is not equall to her, neither for antiquity, nor power. Punish∣ments nor rewards were never ordained' till c 1.125 friendship began to coole; whil'st she continued in full vigour, the use of lawes was use∣lesse, and the Politiques do confesse, that States are better governed by good Intelligence amongst Subjects, than by Ordinances of Princes: the latter reforme onely the mouth, or the hand; impede onely bad actions, or insolent speeches: but the former reformes the heart, and gliding into the will, guides desires, and regulates thoughts. The Law ends differences, but friendship reconciles enemies; the law inhibits injuries, but friendship adviseth good offices. In fine, the law is requifite to the commencement or initiation of a good man, but friendship is required to his accomplishment; and by her advice renders him perfect.

She is also of use to all sorts of Conditions, and that man liues not, that needs not a friend. A friend is needfull to old men, to assist them, to young men, to guide them; to the mi∣serable, to comfort them, to the ignorant, to instruct them; and to

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Kings themselves, to increase their felicity. For though their condi∣tion seem to be raised above that of all other men, and that amidst the abundance of riches, and honours, wherewith they are enviro∣ned, there remains nothing for them to wish for, yet ought they to make friends, and endeavour a delight, which agrees as well with Greatnesse, as with Innocence. Friendship is the best of all exteri∣our Goods, and 'twere unjust that Kings who possesse whatsoever else is of good, should not possesse this; Friendship obligeth us ra∣ther to give, than to receive; d 1.126 and Kings are in a condition where∣in liberality is their principall vertue. In fine, happy Princes ought not to be solitary, and I know not whether any one of them would accept of their felicity, at the rate of living solitarily: Therefore greatnesse doth not forbid friendship to Soveraignes, that which seems to keep them aloofe off from this vertue, draws them nearer to it; and their power is never more pleasing, than when imployed in succouring the miserable, or in making men happy. Neither do we see any Prince who hath not his Favourite. e 1.127 The proudest Mo∣narches of the world, grow weary of commanding, they finde more content in a friend, than in a slave; and how brutish soever their nature be, they are well content to have one, to whom they may un-bosome themselves. Tiberius loved Sejanus; and had not this Favourite become his Rivall, it may be he never had decreed his death. Nero could not fence himselfe from friendship; the sweet∣nesse of this vertue, vanquisht that Monsters cruelty; and whil'st he quencht the flames of Rome, by the bloud of Christians, he had some Confidents, whom he called friends. This Infidell Prince, whose subjects were all slaves, and in whose Empire the desire of liberty was a fault, wanted not Favourites whom he loved; he plays with those he ought to destroy, he makes those the objects of his love, who ought to be the objects of his fury; a certain Captive, had power over the Tyrant, and under the assurance of friendship gave lawes to him, who gave lawes to the greatest part of the world.

Though these reasons do mightily inhance the merit of Friend∣ship, yet must we conclude in Saint Austines Principles. That the Friendship of Pagans is defective, and doth not deserve the praises that are given it. For if we take Aristotle for our Arbi∣tratour, friendship ought to be established upon selfe-love, and

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to love his f 1.128 Neighbour well, a man must love himselfe well. He who prefers the pleasures of the body, before those of the mind, who hazards his honour to preserve his riches, and who injures his conscience, to encrease his reputation, cannot be a good friend to others, because he is his own Enemy; and who wants vertue, cannot have friendship. Morall Philosophy with all her precepts, cannot reforme a disorder, which since the losse of o∣riginall righteousnesse, makes up one part of our selves: the un∣righteousnesse thereof hath past into our nature, and as we can∣not without grace be upon good termes with our selfe, neither can we without her be upon good termes with others. We ei∣ther give them too much, or not enough; we cannot keep that just measure, which makes friendship reasonable, we turne a ver∣tue into a passion; or to speak trulier, we make an innocent a∣ction criminall; and the same selfe-love which puts us on ill termes with our selves, puts us upon the like with our Neigh∣bours; we love his errours, whil'st we think to love his perfe∣ctions; we excuse his sins, in stead of condemning them, and we oft-times become guilty of his faults, for having approved them. Blosius confesseth he would have burnt g 1.129 Iupiters Temple, if Gracchus had commanded him so to do; he thought Justice ought to give place to friendship, that his friend should be dearer to him than his God, and that whatsoever he did through affection, could not render him faulty. It may be 'twas for this cause, that Aristotle blaming friendship, whil'st he thought to praise her, said, that her perfection consisted in her excesse; and that far dif∣fering from common vertues, which do consist in mediocrity; she was never more admirable, than when most excessive: That a man might give too much, but not love too much; that one might have too much courage, but not too much love; that a man might be too wise, but not too loving; yet this excesse is vitious, and ex∣perience teacheth us, that Common-wealths have no more dange∣rous Enemies, than those who are ready to do or suffer any thing for their friends. Therefore 'tis that the same h 1.130 Philosopher prescribing bounds to friendship, did publickly professe, that truth was dearer to him than Plato: & that when he could not accord these two, he fore∣went his friend to maintain his Mistresse. Hence it is, that Polititians calling in Religion to the succour of Morality, have affirmed, that

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affection ought to give way to Piety, and that she ceased to be just, when she prophaned altars.

Those i 1.131 notwithstanding that are of this opinion, have not for∣borne to set a value upon faulty friendship: and Antiquity doth hardly reverence any friends, whose friendships hath not been prejudiciall either to the State, or to Religion. Pilades and Orestes were of intelligence onely to revenge themselves. Theseus and Pi∣rithoiis kept friendship onely to satisfie their unchaste desires: Len∣tulus and Cethegus were faithfull to Catiline, onely that they might be perfidious to their Countrey. But what else could one expect than faults, from those who had no piety? what friendship could one hope from those who wanted the first of vertues? & how could they have bin faithfull to their friends, since they were unfaithful to their Gods? if they have loved any one even till death, k 1.132 it hath been out of vain glory: and if they loved them whil'st they were alive, t' has been for Interest: the sinner for the most part loves none but himselfe; and though this irregulate love be both his fault, and his punishment, yet he therein findes his delight, and his glory: nothing can divert him from his own Interest, when he thinks to free himselfe from himselfe, he fasteneth himselfe closer to himselfe; and if he love his friends, 'tis that he may love himselfe in more places than one, and in more persons; if he part with his heart, 'tis that he may receive it back again with the like of others; his love is but usury, wherein he hazards little to gain much; 'tis an l 1.133 invention of self-love, which seeks to satisfie it selfe in others; 'tis a trick of humane pride, which makes man abase himselfe onely that he may grow the greater, which adviseth him to engage his liberty, onely that he may bereave others of theirs; and which makes him make friends, onely that he may have slaves, or such as love him. What glorious name soever one attributes to friendship, she hath no other designes than these, when she is led on by self-love; and whatsoever language the Infi∣dels have held, these have been their onely motives, when they have lost either life, or liberty, for their friends; if they were silent a∣midst tortures, and if the cruelty thereof could not compell them to discover their associates, 'twas either for that they valued friend∣ship more than life, or that they thought treachery worse than death: if they would not out-live their friends, 'twas to free themselves from sorrow and solitarinesse; and if for their delivery, they exposed

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themselves to Tyrants, 'twas for that their words bound them to it, and that they thought they should be no losers in an occasion, where∣in, though with losse of life, they won honour. m 1.134 And to say truth, Aristotle hath well observed, that he who dyes for his friend loves himself better then his friend; and that in an Action which seems to violate Nature, he doth nothing which self-love may not advise him to, since that by suffering death, he labours after glory, and that by erecting a sacrifice unto his love, he buildes a Trophy to his Memory.

The example of Damon and Pythias may confirm this Truth; They had been brought up in Pythagoras his school, the conformity of their humours, and opinions had so straightly united their souls, that death it self could not part them. The Tyrant Dionysius, to whom vertue was an Enemy, condems one of these faithfull friends to his last sufferings; he findes that his occasions ingage him to make a voyage, the Tyrant, who would adde mirth to cruelty, per∣mits him so to do; provided he finde out Baile who may take his place, and who will be bound to die for him, if he defer his re∣turn: Pythias accepts of this Condition, and entring into Prison, wisheth that the day of Execution drew nigh, that he might deliver his friend; the fatall hour being come, and Damon not yet appear∣ing, Pythias is led to punishment, he rejoyceth at his happinesse, whilst the people are afflicted at his misfortune: he excites the Hang∣man to make hast, and fears death lesse then his friends return; and without excusing his delay, or suspition of his fidelity, he commends Fortune, which keeps his friend from making good his word: at this very moment Damon arrives quite out of breath, he presseth through the crowde, presents himself before the Tyrant and the Executioner, and calls for his baile in: Pithias pleades the hower is past, that Da∣mon having failed in his assignment is no more lyable to death: and that it is he (Pythias) that n 1.135 must end what he had begun. This strife makes the Hang-man stay his hand, moves wonder in the people, and softens the Tyrant, who for their fidelity revokes his Decree, desires to be admitted into their society: & this monster, who had never stu∣died any thing, but to make himself to be feared, ravisht to see this Miracle, wisheth to be beloved.

It cannot be denied but that this was a rare example, and that in this mutuall correspondancy the height of friendship is seen; for it

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was of power to inspire the contempt of death, o 1.136 to cancell the love of life, to mollifie cruelty, to change rage into mildness, and to turn the pain of punishment, to a glorious recompence; but who doth not also see, that this contestation might rather proceed from vain Glory, then love? who thinks not that each of these loved themselves better than their companion? since leaving life to him, he would keep Glory to himself? who will not confesse, that in this dispute there was more of Ambition then fidelity? and who will not acknowledge, that so gallant an adventure might have been wisht for by men not so wel known to one another? and between whom there was not so great a friendship, as between Damon and Pythias?

But we must not wonder if friendship be faulty amongst the Pa∣gans, since she is not alwayes innocent amongst Christians, and since interest, which gives against the designes of Charity, keeps her from inlarging her self, and doth unjustly confine her self between two parties; for we suffer our selves to be perswaded by Philosophy, that common friendship cannot be reall, that he who loves many, loves none, and that who doth so readily ingage himself, doth disingage himself with as much as Ease. Yet the Son of God bindes us to love all Christians as our brothers, he will have his body and blood, to be the bond of all the faithfull, and that his chiefest p 1.137 mysteries tend onely to the uniting of them together: his pleasure was, that we should all have one and the same Father, to the end, we might have one and the same inheritance; he ordeined but one Baptisme, to the end, that our birth might be alike; and that the difference of Con∣ditions being banisht from out his Church; reciprocall love might not by mistake be diminished; he gave us but one head, to the end, we might be inanimated by the same spirit, and that the conformity of our opinions might be the preservation of our friendship: he hath q 1.138 left us his body in the Eucharist, to the end we might have one and the same food; and that being converted to himself we should be obliged to love one another, as being his members; he hath caused us to be born in one and the same Church; to the end that we might have but one Mother upon earth, as we have but one Father in Hea∣ven; he hath promised us one and the same Paradise, to the end, we might have one and the same Country; and that being so straight∣ly united in time, we may not be separated in Eternity; yet all these powerfull means cannot keep friendship amongst Christians; self

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love derides them, the division of wealth divides their wills; every one prefers his interest before Charity; the Common people end their differences by suite at Law, Gentle-men by Duels, and Princes by Battails; r 1.139 Men defend their right either by cunning, or by force; not considering that Jesus Christ lives in our enemies, we kill them to revenge our selves, and commit murther, to cancell an injury.

But though we should be more charitable, we cannot shun being unfortunate; for sin hath so corrupted our nature, & Divine Justice hath so severely punisht sins, as the life of man is rather a succession of miseries, then of years: man cannot live long without much suf∣fering, if his body be in health, his minde is sick, if his wealth be not exposed to injustice, his Innocency is exposed to Calumny: if he fence himself from one misfortune, he is assayed by another: and he learns to his own cost, that long life is but a long punishment. And s 1.140 then again whosoever engageth himself in friendship, obligeth himself to new displeasures: as he lives in two bodies, he suffers in two places, and addes his friends miseries to his own, if he have ma∣ny friends, Fortune hath more to lay hold off in him: and as affli∣ctions are more common than blessings, he must resolve to be often miserable.

Those deceive themselves who esteem friendship a consolation to the afflicted: to give her her due name, she ought to be term∣ed the torment of the fortunate, t 1.141 because she hath made evil Common between those who mutually love, and since she makes a man suffer in his friends misfortune, though otherwise he him∣self should be in a happy condition: she augments the number of the miserable, under pretence of diminishing it: she turns a single Malady into a contagion: she inlargeth displeasures un∣der colour of easing them, and by an ingenious Cruelty she findes a means to hurt many, in indeavouring to heal one.

Therefore do the unfortunate fear having friends, when they are uninteressed, they love not that their maladie should be contagious, it sufficeth them that they are miserable without making others so: they are as covetuous of their Pains, as they have been prodigall of their pleasures; they think not themselves freed of their miseries by laying them upon their friends; they shun company for fear of in∣fecting them; knowing that solitarinesse is the abode of the afflicted, they forsake the world, and hold for certain that an unfortunate man

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becomes faulty, when he wisheth for Companions in his misery.

Be it confest that friendship is very fantastick, and that she im∣printes strange opinions in men; for if they be Just, they u 1.142 ought not to desire that their friends contentment should be disquieted by their misfortunes; they are unworthy of their Compassion, if they too eagerly desire it; they deserve not to be bemoned if they exact tears; they are Tyrants and Hang-men if they will have their friends to be their Martyrs; and that for having partaken in their Pro∣sperity; they should do the like in their Adversity: notwithstand∣ing 'tis true, that Friendship never appears but in Affliction. 'Tis misfortune x 1.143 that tries Friends, their friendship is approved of when Fortune frowns: we must be Miserable, to know that we are beloved; we cannot get this assurance without the Losse of our Felicity, and as long as Fortune favours us, we dare not build upon our friends Fidelities. Heaven therefore is the true harbour of Friendship: 'tis there that our Love divides it self without fear of Jealousie, and waxeth not weak: 'tis there that we shall have so many Friends as God makes blessed Saintes: 'tis there that without trying them by our Misfortunes, we shall be assured of their good-wills: 'tis there that reading their Hearts, and seeing their Thoughtes, we shall no longer run the hazard of being abused by Words: 'tis there that without fear of adding to our mis-fortunes by the increase of our Friends, we shall enjoy all good, and fear no evil: 'tis there that living for ever toge∣ther, we shall no longer fear to be separated by Death or ab∣sence. Finally 'tis there that being perfectly united to God, we shall see our selves in his Light, and love our selves in his Goodnesse.

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The ninth Discourse.

That the Uncertainty and Obscurity of Knowledge is de∣rived from sin.

IT must be confest that man is very unfortunate in becoming guil∣ty, since his perfections, and his defects are almost equally fatall to him. y 1.144 His vertues are false, and his vices true; his most glori∣ous actions do oft-times derive from so bad an originall, as they are not to be praised without injuring in some sort both grace and rea∣son. His ignorance doth not always excuse his sin, and his know∣ledge doth not always enhance his vertue. The more he is know∣ing, the more guilty is he, as Saint Paul saith, He withholds the truth in unrighteousnesse; and his light is intermixt with so much darknesse, that it may lead him out of the way, and cannot conduct him. This is notwithstanding mans most violent passion: desire of knowledge is born with him, and if it makes not his difference, it is one of his chiefest Proprieties. For Beasts are wrought on by ambition, they fight for glory; and as if that were the onely reward of their victory, they pardon their enemies, after they have beaten them: they are tormented with love and jealousie; Lions can endure no rivalls, and if they want rewards to honour fidelity, they want not chastisements to punish Adultery. Desire of life is not much lesse violent in beasts, than in men; the same instinct which animates Tigres to seek out prey for their nourishment, makes Stags hide themselves in woods for their preservation. Nature teacheth them remedies for their evils, and this common mother furnisheth them with herbes to cure them: the apprehension of death encourageth the most timerous; when they are bereft of all hope of safety, they turn their fear to fury; and to shun danger, throw themselves head-long into it. But the desire of knowledge is peculiar to man, and there is no cruelty, which he useth not to content his curiosity. He rips open the bowels of the earth, to know the secrets thereof; he melts metals, to discover their essences; he descends to the bot∣tome of the Sea, to learn the wonders thereof; he turns the world

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upside down, to know it: under pretence of succouring those that live, he dissects those that are dead: z 1.145 and seeks out the causes of their maladies, that he may finde out remedies for them. This pas∣sion is much augmented by the esteem which it hath won in the world; for nothing is more honoured than knowledge: the Devil gave it credit in the earthly Paradise, & by the praises which he gave it, made our first Parents long after it: their children imitated them in their errour, & consecrated their watchings to the atchieving of so rich a fleece. Greatest honours have been conferr'd upon the most know∣ing men; and if those which have freed their Countrey from the Insolence of Tyrants, have past for Heroes, those who have found out Arts, & who have defended men either from ignorance, or from necessity, have had Temples and Altars erected to them; in so much as the Devill kept his word, which his gave our first Parents; when a 1.146 to seduce them, he would perswade them their knowledge would make them Gods: and his promise, though false, hath been in some sort accomplisht by peoples simplicity, who have adored knowing men. For it must be confest, that the monuments of our mindes are more durable than those of our hands; and that Scien∣ces have much better fenced themselves against the injuries of time, than the stateliest Edifices of Antiquity.

Aristotles Philosophy hath had her admirers in all Ages; this gal∣lant man had more Disciples since his death, than during his life; and there have been greater disputes had to maintain his Doctrine, than the most famous Conquerour hath given Battels to enlarge his Territories. Homers Verses are still read with respect, men ad∣mire his invention, reverence his defects, and labour almost as much to understand his Conceipts, as to understand Oracles: some men passe whole nights in perusing his works, who glory to be a dead mans Interpreter, who enrich themselves at the cost of a poor man, and b 1.147 boast themselves of enlightning all mens understandings, by explicating the words of a blind man; since his time all Empires have been dissipated: Rome hath seen her self twice or thrice buried under her own ruines; her Republique hath been turn'd to a Monarchy, and her Monarchy hath divided it selfe into as many parts, as there are Kingdomes in the world. Men know not where the capitall Cities of Media, and Persia, were situated; it is disputed in what parts of the World, Thebes and Memphis were built; their

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high walls, large circuits, and number of Inhabitants have not been able to preserve the memory thereof: these works of great Kings have not been able to defend themselves against Time, and these miracles of Art have either been ruin'd by the Sword, or de∣voured by fire: but Homers works live yet; Troy was never so beau∣tifull in Asia, as in his Verses; if he could not keep it from being burnt, he hath kept it from being forgotten. The Grecian Achilles, and Hector of Troy, never won so much renown by their valour, as by his praises. This onely example makes it evident, that Know∣ledge hath the upper-hand of Courage, and that the labours of the brain are more durable than the Conquests of Kings; yet hath knowledge her defaults, since the state of sin, and there is no know∣ledge so certain, which admits not of doubts; none so profitable, which is not discommodious, nor none so good, which is not bad.

True knowledge ought to have two qualities; Evidence, and Certainty: c 1.148 the first without the second occasioneth Opinion, the second without the first, produceth Faith. Therfore 'tis that all Sci∣ences boast to possesse these two advantages, and employ all their power to perswade us, that they are evident, and assured; but the means they make use of to prove this, contradicts their design, and makes their doubts and obscurities equally appear. For they draw their light either from Time, Authority, or Experience: Time is the father of truth, but is also oft-times the murtherer thereof, ac∣cording to the Rabbines; 'tis the witnesse of all things, but it suffers corruption; and the depositions thereof are as obscure, as doubt∣full: all knowing men complain, that life is short, the way to know∣ledge long; and that it were requisite to spend whole Ages in the School of Time, to become learned. 'Tis only permitted to Damons, who are ancient as the world, to profit under a Master, that discovers his secrets only to such, as through their own industry observe them.

Authority is grounded upon the worth of those who have gone before us: their antiquity gives them credit, we think them abler than our selves, onely because they are older; and we dare nor op∣pose their opinions, because they are no longer able to defend them; they onely rule, because they live no longer; and if they beare a∣way the victory, 'tis because they are without the danger of the fight. Their Maximes serves us for Oracles, their wills serve us for laws, and they may say, as Kings, This is our Pleasure. Death

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which destroyes the power of Soveraigns, establisheth the Tyranny of Philosophers, and these men who live no longer, have yet credit enough to triumph over our liberty. Yet is their antiquity a proofe of their ignorance: since they have seen lesse then we, they should in reason know lesse; and since they lived in the first Ages, they could not have made sufficient observations to discern the truth. That which we call the worlds Antiquity, d 1.149 was but it's Infancy; men, not being able to advantage themselves by the labour of their Ancestours, did live in profound ignorance, and left the glory of finding out truth, to the care of those that should succeed them.

Experience is grounded upon the Senses, and hath all her good from their reports: but all men know these Messengers are unfaith∣full, that they are corrupted by objects, that the soule which is by them advised, is oft-times deceived; and that nature hath given her an inward light, to free her selfe from their Superchery: they mistake themselves daily in their own operations; & if we will believe these blinde guides, we shall be always engaged in errour. The Sun appears greater at his rising, than at Noon-day; the Heavens seem to meet with the earth at the Levell of the Horizon; and men think a long walk narrower in the extremities thereof, than in the middle. e 1.150 Wherefore the wisest Philosophers, knowing the va∣nity of the Senses, have confest the like of Sciences; and being pressed by Truth it selfe, have been forc't to acknowledge, that that there was nothing certain in them, but their uncertainty; nor any thing evident, but their obscurity. The modestest among them have boasted to know nothing, but that they knew nothing; and to have learnt by their study, that mans greatest knowledge was but a Depth of ignorance.

The uncertainty thereof is accompanied with uselessenesse, and let her promise what she pleaseth, she teacheth us things which are rather curious, than profitable. Science is not vain onely, because she is proud, but because she is given to lying: for she makes those that court her hope for miracles; and to hear her servants, or her slaves speak, you would think that were a remedy for all evils, and a means to come by all vertues: but if we will examine all the mi∣series of men, we shall not finde any one that may be lessened by knowledge. Sin hath reduced them to a condition wherein both

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good and bad, are equally dangerous to them: some apprehend death f 1.151 which threatens them, some complain of poverty where∣with they are afflicted, some are slaves to their riches, and wonders that plenty should bereave them of liberty: this man dreads ill for∣tune, that man is glutted with good: some are persecuted on earth, some punisht from heaven. All these stand in need of help in their differing conditions, and are in danger of shipwrack, unlesse they be assisted by a favourable and gracious hand. Knowledge boasted that she would succour them, and men abused by her pro∣mises, sided with her under this confidence; but after they had list∣ned to her instructions, they found she abounded more in light, then in heat, and more in vanity, then in power. To say truth, she busieth her selfe in enlightning the understanding, not being able to heat the will; and in stead of instructing things usefull, she is content to vent curiosities. Not being able to accord the Elements within our bodies, nor yet the passions in our soules, she busieth her selfe in sorting voices, and in forming an agreeable harmony out of differing Tones; not being able to withstand vices, nor irregular inclinations, she undertakes to fight against wilde-beasts, or ene∣mies; to get the victory where the danger exceeds the honour; and to bear away Triumph, where injustice and fortune have a greater share then courage or wisdome. * 1.152

When she saw she could not observe the wonders of nature, she appli'd her selfe to consider the Debauchments; and passing by her goodliest operations, either in silence, or oblivion, she entertained men with her disorders onely, or with her diversions. For all Sci∣ences which are now in request, and wherein great men do glory, teach nothing but ridiculous things, and fill their disciples mindes with naught but smoak, & winde. Were it not better that Astrology should teach us the way to heaven, than uselesly to teach us the Number of the Stars, the Influence of Planets, and Motions of the Sphears? Were it not to be wisht, that Arithmetick, which teacheth to calculate immense summes should teach us to bound our own desires, and not to set by riches? were it not to be desired, that the Mathematicks, in stead of instructing us how to besiege Towns, and not to defend them, should shew us how to preserve our own liberty, and how to keep us from the Tyranny of sin?

If in fine, Sciences were rationall, would they not rather

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endeavour to make men Vertuous, than Knowing? and if they were not slaves to Curiosity, would they not labour more to regulate the will, than to satisfie the understanding? and yet the chiefest of Philosophers, after having in all his writings h 1.153 made the Panegyrick of knowledge, after having offer'd Incense to this Idol, and after having purchased her as many Adorers, as he had Disciples, confesseth, that she is of no use to vertue; and that though she may make men more Learned, yet shee cannot make them Bet∣ter. In effect the most knowing men have not alwayes been the most vertuous; and those who have Written best, are not those that have lived best. Seneca's life agrees not with his writings; the counsels which he gives to Nero in Tacitus are not like those which he gives him in his books of anger, and clemencie; he is much more generous in his epistles to Lucilius, then in his consolation to Polybius: and his naturall questions taste much more of Philoso∣phie, then that bloody invective which he wrote after the death of Claudius: these two pieces discover his nature, which in the o∣ther he sought to disguise: when he sets forth vertue to the life, and gives her so many charmes to make her Lovely, me thinks I seek a Black-more painting a fair Woman, or a corrupt Lawyer pleading an Honest cause. Socrates and Plato, though they were the most learned of their age, were not the most vertuous; their acti∣ons require rather Apologies than Panegyricks: if they condemn ra∣ther ambition, 'tis to authorize uncleannesse; if they contemn'd the love of Women, 'twas thought 'twas to authorize the like of yong men; and that if quencht impure flames, 'twas to kindle Hellish ones. Epicurus and Zeno breathed forth nothing but either Plea∣sure, or vaine glory; if the one wage war with vice, 'tis onely to purchase Glory, and if the other suppresse his Passions, 'tis onely that he may enjoy the more Rest, and that he may adore Pleasure in the temple of vertue. Thus is knowledge unprofita∣ble; and to reap any advantage by her instructions, i 1.154 a man must ask counsell of Charity. For to what end is it that we know what is good, if our bad inclinations keep us from doing it? and what advantage shall we receive from a science, which can neither with∣stand vice, nor defend vertue? We know, that we ought to be ayding to our Parents k 1.155 in their miseries; but Avarice keeps us from being so: we know, that we ought to fight for our Countrey;

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but fear keeps us from doing so; we know, that we ought to incom∣modiate our selves, to serve our friends; but pleasures divert us from it: we know, that we should prefer Honour before pleasure, and innocence before both; but ambition and delight will not per∣mit us so to do: so as it is to no purpose to advise us, unlesse the Obstacles which oppose themselves to that advise be removed, and unlesse the will be heated at the same time that the understanding is enlightened.

But that which is yet more grievous, and which obligeth all men to confesse, that Knowledge is corrupted by sin, is, that she is an enemy to vertue, and that under pretence of defending her, she wageth war against her. The Roman Common-wealth did never flourish more then in the l 1.156 first Ages, wherein she was content to know, that she was to honour her Gods, guide her People, assist her Allyes, and to fight her enemies: she lost her integrity when she would increase her knowledge: Pleasures en∣tred Rome, together with forreign sciences, and from the time that once the Romans began to dispute concerning vertue, they cea∣sed to practise her: the Greeks revenged themselves on them by their Philosophers; not being able to overcome them by Arms, they found a meanes how to corrupt them by their conferences; and giving them Learning, they bereft them of Justice, where∣by they had won so much over all the people of the world. Athens was more learned than Lacedaemon, but Lacedaemon was more vertu∣ous than Athens; Vertue triumphed over Eloquence, and this Town which was wholly composed of Philosophers and Orators, was brought to serve the other which abounded in ignorance. Ex∣perience teacheth, that knowledge doth abate courage; that in po∣lishing the understanding, she weakens it; and that in teaching how to speak well, she makes us forget how to do well. The Turks owe their valour totally to their ignorance; and if any Innocencie remain amongst the Barbarians, 'tis because they have not yet been ac∣quainted with the mischeif of knowledge.

Wisdom her self is not reconciled to her: these two Sisters, which Philosophers boast to have united, cannot agree together in any ex∣traordinary degree. It seems impossible for a man to be both Learned and wise; m 1.157 Learning doth puzzle the brain as well as vain glory; as excessive fortunes make us lose our Judgements, much knowledge

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makes us lose our reason: Study dries the Braine, great contesta∣tions of minde alter mans Temper, and it oftentimes falls out, that both the Soul and the Body are weakened through an extream desire of knowledge. The most dangerous folly is not Stupid; that which is occasioned by Ignorance, is easily remedied; but that which is oc∣casioned through Study, makes both Physician and Patient despaire; in fine, knowledge is the learned mans punishment; she is more boundlesse then ambition, n 1.158 all her desires are out of Order, the more she possesseth, the more she wisheth for; the Richer she is, the Poorer she esteems her self; and framing daily new designes, she makes those that love her confesse, that she is a vexatious occupation, which God hath given them onely for their Chastisement: that he who addes New-lights to what hath formerly been known, addes more Paines to former Troubles; and that who labours after more knowledge, labours to make himself more Miserable.

It were to be wisht, that as God hath tane immortality from us, to shorten our Misery; he had likewise deprived us of profane know∣ledge, to lessen our sufferings: and then we should have found, that ignorance and death, are rather Favours, then punishments. A man must become ignorant, to become Faithfull. Vain Philosophy is an Obstacle to our belief: tis easier to convert an Ignorant man than a Philosopher, and humblenesse of minde, which serves for the foundation of Christian vertues, hath no more mortall enemy, than the vanity of Philosophy. o 1.159 The great Apostle of the Gentiles de∣clares war against it in his writings, he cannot endure the pride which doth accompany it, he despiseth the false lights, which puzzle the understanding, but do not enlighten it; though he was taught at feet of Gamaliel, he boasts of his ignorance, and he teacheth all the faithfull, that he knows nothing but Jesus Christ crucified. It is e∣nough to know, that p 1.160 man can do nothing of himself; and that as he holds all whatsoever he is, and whatsoever he hath, from the Goodnesse of God, he is bound to employ it to his Glory.

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The tenth Discourse.

That Eloquence is an Enemy to Reason, Truth and Religion.

AS Eloquence is the Mistresse of handsome language, as she makes the Panegyricks of Princes, vaunts her self to put a valuation upon vertue, and to reward her for all the glorious troubles she undergoes, so hath she not been wanting in giving unto her self those praises which she thinks are due unto her, and to imploy all her cunning in making her worth appear. For if we will beleeve her, she boasts that no power equals hers, and that without use of fire or sword, she hath the power of perswading the opinioned, of reducing Rebels, and of obliging wicked men to side with vertue. q 1.161 She thinks her profession no lesse illustrious than that of Arms, that Demosthenes, and Cicero, may waigh in the scales with Alexander and Caesar, and that if there were one Hercules, who by his valour overcame monsters, there was another who prevailed over men by reason; she imagines she may be serviceable to Religion; that Christ himself in the plainnesse of his discourse did not neglect adornments, that after having a∣stonished sinners by his Miracles, he convinced them by his words, and that the people, being overcome by the Power of his r 1.162 Doctrine, confest, that no man ever spoke like him. In fine; if she expresse her self by the mouthes of her Orators, we are bound to beleeve, that whatsoever is atributed to Philoso∣phie or to Justice, is onely the work of Eloquence. s 1.163 For they say, that 'twas she that withdrew men from deserts, who reduced them too within Towns, who prescribed laws unto them, who kept innocence from calumnie and oppression, and who changed Tyran∣nies into lawful Kingly Government. To hear them speak; you would think that vertue were banisht from off the earth, had not Eloquence taken her into her protection, and that there should be

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no longer peace in Kingdoms, did not she by her dexterity appease seditions? But without listning any longer to her unjust praises, I pretend to make her partakers confesse, that since she became a slave to sin, she injures by one and the same excesse, Truth, Rea∣son, and Religion.

'Tis hard to say, whether Cunning be the father of Eloquence, or Eloquence be the mother of cunning, but 'tis easily to discerne, that each of them assist other, in the bearing down of truth. Both of them being ingenious in extremity; they dissemble their mean∣ings, and hide their hatred under the appearance of love: they speak on their enemies behalfe, and the one of them seems to em∣ploy his wiles, the other her Figures and Tropes, onely to make truth appear the more pleasing: yet under pretence of serving her, they injure her; and under colour of establishing her power, they destroy her Empire. For this vertue, worth adoration, despiseth deckings; she knows her beauty is never more ravishing, t 1.164 than when most neglected; she rejects borrowed lustre; and paint be∣ing a kin to falshood, she approves not of the use thereof. She su∣spects any thing that may deceive, her language is plain, her appa∣rell modest, and were it not for fear of those unchaste ones, who prophane even holy things with their looks, she would throw a∣way the vaile that covers her, and shew her selfe stark naked to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her lovers.

As all her glory consists in her naked plainnesse, so doth also her strength; the very sight of her is sufficient to make her be beloved; she very well knows, that they that know her cannot oppose her, nor yet defend themselves from her. u 1.165 She hath no greater passion than sweetly to insinuate, her selfe into mens mindes, and by her light to dissipate the obscurity of falshood: she very well knows that men do naturally reverence her, and that unlesse they be foo∣lish, they be never unfaithfull to her. Therefore no humane help is of use to her, and this powerfull Princesse needs no souldiers to re-possesse her selfe of her State, nor to reduce her Rebels to obe∣dience. Her very sight is sufficient to make her be obey'd, her pre∣sence stifles rebellion, and as soon as she appears, she awakens re∣spect and love, in her Subjects hearts. But if the malice of the Age were such, as should make her seek for partners to defend her;

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certainly she would never implore aid from Orators: They are too full of Quircks to please her, and she loves plain dealing too well to approve of their cunning. All the Tropes and Figures, which they make use of in their discourses, x 1.166 are but so many disguised fal∣shoods; they cannot speak without lying; and all the inventions which they borrow from Rhetorick, are but undertakings against truth.

But least I may be accused of falling into an errour, which I finde fault with, I will examine the figures, and make such as make use of them, confesse, that they are onely to be termed pleasing falshoods. The Metaphora, which is so frequent with them, and wherewithall they heighten their style, to raise up the meannesse of their cogitations, is it not an Imposture? and doth not Eloquence abuse her Auditors, when she will perswade them, that the fields are thirsty, that the drops of deware pearles, flowers in medowes are stars, and the murmuring of waters musick? if thus much li∣cense be to be allowed, who cannot say, that little birds are An∣gels of the Forrests? that Whales are living rocks, or ships with soules? that the Sea is a moving earth, and fountain water, liquid Christall? y 1.167 who can imagine that truth needs such cunning to de∣fend her selfe, that men are onely wrought upon by such raving, and that a man cannot please, unlesse he be ridiculous? Ironia is no truer, and if it deserve any pardon, 'tis because 'tis lesse serious; for it disguiseth not it's falshood, but openly protests against being believed; it gives it selfe the lye by it's accent, terms not a man innocent, save onely that he may be thought guilty; 'twould think it selfe too silly, should it call all things by their names, and would not think it selfe sufficintly bitter, should it not know how to cover a reall reproach under a false praise.

Are not Allegories impertinent? when to un-weary mens minds, they abuse them, and say one thing when they think another? they will perswade us, that a Ship is a Common-wealth, Tempests, the State-affairs wherewith it is troubled, and Mariners, the lead men that govern it. May not a man with the same affrontednesse affirme, that open Countries are Kingdoms, that the Mountains, are their Kings, little hills their Magistrates, and Vallies their Sub∣jects: must not a man have lost his wits to have made use of these fi∣gures, and had not one better hold his peace, than speak a language

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which the common sort of people understand not, z 1.168 and which wise men despise; but an Hyperbole is the more unsufferable, for it's insolency, and seeming seriousnesse: Common expressions seem poor to it; it cannot endure any thing that is ordinary, but affects extravagancy to hide it's basenesse; it heightens nothing with 〈◊〉〈◊〉 exaggeration, tells no truth un-mingled with falshood, and by ajust punishment, looseth credit, through coveting too much▪ beliefe. 'Twill make snow black, to make a womans face seem fair, tarnish the verdue of the rose, to exalt the freshnesse of her complexition, a 1.169 and darken the Sun, to give lustre to her eyes. This figure is not to be excused, but by acknowledging that it is conscious of it's own rashnesse; that it dares more than it hopes for; that it is of the humour of those, who lie often, and who think themselves happy enough, if they can but perswade the Au∣ditours to believe part of what they say. An Antithesis is not so bold as an Hyperbole, though more affected; all it's cunning is but a continuall play or Maigame, it opposeth the subjects which it treats of, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 because it knows not how to enlarge them; it hops always, because it can neither run nor walk softly; it leanes upon all it meets withall, because it cannot sustain it selfe; and 'tis sel∣dome ingenious, save onely for it's sterility sake. In fine, that may be said of all figures, which Seneca saies of an Hyperbole; they lead us to truth by falshood; they cousen us to please us, and to instruct us do seduce us. If this cunning be blamelesse, I know no couze∣nage, which may not admit of excuse; men will kill men to make them live, will put out their eyes to clear their sight, and will throw them into slavery, to set them at liberty.

There have been some who would have had painting inhibited, because it abuseth the senses, and because by the rules of the Opticks, it extends open Countries the end whereof we cannot arrive un∣to, sinks valleys: so as we cannot discover their bottome, and rai∣seth up Mountains to the height whereof we cannot attain, But eloquence being more deceitfull, deserves a greater punishment; and she should as well be forbidden comming within the barand Pul∣pit, as painting was forbidden the Court of Arropagus, Since she heightens mean things, enlargeth what hath no substance; and to make her power be admired; makes Faustina a Lucretia, Tiberius an Augustus, and Fredigonda a Clotilda. It must then be confest,

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that eloquence is the workman-ship of sin, b 1.170 that men have sought out these figures onely to disguise falshood; and they began not to be eloquent, till they began to be sinfull. Innocencie would not per∣adventure have spoken this language; and if we meet with some such like Oratory somtimes in the holy Scripture, I imagine it is, that the Scripture may accommodate it selfe to our custome, and to imitate the goodnesse of God; who puts on our passions when he will treat with us.

If truth complain of Rhetorick, reason hath as much cause so to do; and who shall consider, what ill offices she hath received from her, will finde, that she should never implore her aid: for though this Sovereign be not always at peace, within her Territories, and that her Subjects do somtimes despise her authority, Eloquence is not sincere enough to re-invest her in her power, and it oft-times falls out, that whil'st she thinks to stifle disorder, she augments it. For Reason hath nothing to fear in her Empire, but the errour of her understanding, the obstinacy of the will, the revolt of passions, and the unfaithfulnesse of the senses; let her prevent these disor∣ders, and she may be sure to raign peaceably. For what concernes the understanding, it needs no Rhetorick to perswade it, itcareth not for c 1.171 ornaments, truth is as pleasing to it in the mouth of a Philo∣sopher, as of an Oratour; the lesse truth is expatiated, the more force doth the understanding finde in her; and the lesse she hath of Art, the more doth it reverence her power. As for the will, it is so free, as nothing can force it; grace alone hath power to ravish 〈◊〉〈◊〉▪ and only God can sway it without using violence. The passions must be calm'd by dexterity; he is a wise Pilot, who can saile long upon their Sea without suffering shipwrack. And as for the senses; they must be won by fair means, and they must be loosened from ob∣jects to be submitted to reason.

Eloquence boasts, that in this point, she hath great advantage o∣ver Philosophers: the Cadence of her periods smooths the senses; she imitates musick, and makes use of the voice of Oratours, to in∣chant the ears; d 1.172 the gesture of their bodies, their studied actions, and all those graces which accompany Pronunciation, steal away the heart by the eyes, and work wonders upon the will: Figures raise passions, draw tears, encourageth Auditours to choler, and put weapons into their hands to revenge themselves of their Ene∣mies.

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But I finde that all the means which Eloquence attempts, are extreamly dangerous, and that the remedies which she applies, are worse than the malady which she would cure. For thinking to flat∣ter the senses, she engageth them in voluptuousnesse; whil'st she would divert them from, she accustometh them to delight; and though her designe be innocent, yet ceaseth it not to produce ill effects. For as oft as a pleasing Oratour defends an ill cause, and that he imployes all his good parts in favour of injustice; the sen∣ses, which seek onely after content, suffer themselves to be borne a∣way by his cunning; and making interressed reports to the under∣standing, they engage it in their revolt. Thus is a pleasing fal∣shood better entertained than truth; and vertue is lesse valued than vice, if she appeare more austere.

Eloquence is not more fortunate in taming passions, then in charming senses: for though she be acquainted with the secret of kindling and allaying choller, of setting love and hatred on fire, of abusing hope, and sweetning despair, yet hath she this of mis∣fortune, that as she laies one passion asleep, she awakens another; and be it for want of dexterity, e 1.173 or for her diffidence of her own strength, she never sets upon vengeance, unlesse she be assisted by ambition; she meddles not with love, without exciting hatred, and quels not hope, without raising fear. Thus she hurts us, to cure us; and her remedies are worse than our diseases. She imitates those bad Physicians, who debauch the stomack, to refresh the bowels; and who undo one part, to preserve another; for not weighing the danger, she oft-times awakens cruelty in a Tyrant, to encourage him against an Enemy; she excites ambition in a Con∣querour, to incline him to clemency; and hazards a whole King∣dome to save a guilty person. Men blamea Prince, who to revenge himselfe of his Subjects, puts weapons into the Rebels hands, and and who under colour of stifling a commencing sedition, streng∣thens a party, which justles out his Authority; yet this is the order observed by Eloquence in her Orations; and expearience teacheth us, that to overcome a passon which opposeth her designes, she will not fear to awaken another which will entrench upon the publique Liberty. Cicero flatters Cesars vain glory, to obtain Marcellus his pardon, he propounds glory to him, to divert him from rigour: yet f 1.174 sees not that to extinguish the fire of his choller, he kindles the

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life of his ambition; which was to set his Countrey on fire. Who will not then confesse, that eloquence is an enemy to reason? that she dis-joynts an Empire, in stead of setling it? and that she addes to the number of passions, under pretence of apeasing them?

Her other designes are not more just, and she deals not more mild∣ly with liberty than with reason; for though she always vaunt to take her side, and to defend her against such enemies as war against her, I finde she is the first that chargeth on her, and that there is no difference between an Orator and a Tyrant. They take severall ways, but their Armies are alike, g 1.175 and their manner of government is e∣qually violent; Tyrants make use of fire and sword, to astonish their Subjects, and Oratours imploy anger and revenge, to seduce their Auditors. Tyrants forge chaines to keep them in, that resist them; and Oratours frame discourses which violate the will of those that listen to them. Tyrants make themselves be feared, because they cannot make themselves be beloved; and Orators make them∣selves be beloved, though they know very well how to make them∣selves be feared: Tyrants affright us, when they cannot win us by fair means, and Orators deceive us, when their perswasions falle them. In fine, Tyrants butcher our bodies, and Orators tyrannize over our mindes. I think not the Republique of Syracusa, much more unhappy under the Tyranny of Dionysius, then was the Common-wealth of Athens, whilest she languished under the elo∣quence of Dosthenes. There are some Philosophers of my opi∣nion, and Cicero himselfe doth not differ much from it, since he confesseth, that an old man hearing the great Pericles make an Orati∣tion; after that he had formerly heard the Tyrant Pisistrates, cri'd out aloud, that he had never seen two men more like, and that he did no lesse dread the ones eloquence, than the others cruelty: in ef∣fect, he was not in the wrong; for the event shewed, h 1.176 that there was no difference between Pisistrates, and Pericles, save that the one exercised Tyranny with his weapons, and the other with his Rhetorick.

Eloquence being so dangerous, and her Empire so violent, we must not wonder, if Jesus Christ, whose designe was to win the world by fair means, would not have his Apostles make use there∣of; he chose ignorant men to confute Philosophers, and to make his power be admired, his will was, that their simplicity should tri∣umph

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over rhetorick. They were inspired with the gift of tongues in a moment, and the same spirit which did wonders by their hands, made known his oracles by their mouthes: but Heaven which made them so learned, would never make them eloquent; they spake be∣fore the Kings of the earth, without any loftinesse of style; they discoursed without adornments before the Judges of Areopagus, they preached without figures before the Senate of i 1.177 Rome, and yet they submitted the pride of Rome, and the eloquence of Athens to the simplicity of the Gospell. I must spend the rest of this discourse in the recitall of this wonder, and to confute Rhetoricks vain glory, I must exalt the humility of Religion.

Never did any designe equall that of Jesus Christ, when he sent his Apostles into the world; he meditated the conquest of the world, the overthrowing of superstition, the ruine of Idols, and the devils defeat; to effect this enterprize, Philosophers must be convinced Oratours perswaded, Monarchies vanquished. To bring this so high a designe to an happy end, one would think, that he must raise Aristotle, Demosthenes, and Alexander from their graves; he notwithstanding vouchsafes to look upon a dozen fisher∣men, and to incourage them to combate, and to overcome so many enemies, he forbids them to bear Armes, to meditate for reasons, or to study speeches: and to the end, that the whole glory of so great a work might be attributed to his power, k 1.178 he will have the humility of his Disciples beat down the pride of Tyrants, he will have their ignorance confound the learning of Philosophers, and their simplicity to triumph over the eloquence of Orators. If their dis∣course were plain, their writings were not more aptly couched. Hardly did they write correctedly, their most usuall Figures are Barbarismes, they neglect ornament, plainnesse appeares in all their Epistles; and we have much ado to believe, that those who spake such indifferent language, should miraculously have received the gifts of tongues; yet doth the beauty of their doctrine ravish us, we are astonished with the depth of those mysteries, which they ex∣plain, and their words bear so great a sense with them, as we are not troubled to fore-goe Aristotles Politicks; to read Saint Paules Epistles.

Since the Apostles are the Masters of the Church, and that their examples are our instructions; I advise Preachers to imitate their

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plainnesse, to affect their lowlines, to despise eloquence, and to im∣plore aide from that Spirit which wins hearts without the pomp of words, and ravish the will without the ornament of language. Rhe∣torick is a prophane art, and preaching is a sacred exercise; vanity hath need of cunning to sustaine her, but the Gospel is main∣teined by truth: those who preach it with most setting off, are not those whose preaching works l 1.179 most affect, of as many Preāchers as God hath given to his Church, I see but Chrysostome whose elo∣quence he hath blessed, all the rest have drawn their power from the humility of the crosse, the meanest of them have been the most be∣neficiall those who have wrought the greatest conversions, have oft times abounded more in Piety then in learning, and more in zeal, than in eloquence. If I give not the same counsell to the faithfull, as I do to Preachers; tis not that I do not approve of those who would imitate the Apostles simplicity, and that I condemn those who would imitate the Orators vain-glory, but nature being faulty, we must not wonder if her language be corrupted; and since the Son of God tolerates the impurity of our sins, we must not think it strange, if he bear with the vanity of our words, till being gotten into the liberty of his Children, he frees us from the tyranny of sin and from the slavery of eloquence.

Notes

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