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.

OF THE CORRUPTION OF MANS BODY BY SIN: The Fourth Treatise: (Book 4)

The First Discourse.

Of the Excellencies of Mans Body.

VErtue being surrounded with enemies, & besieged on all sides by vices, she can∣not m 1.1 stray aside without the hazard of falling into their hands, and of losing all those advantages which render her glo∣rious. If Justice punish a fault rigorous∣ly, her zeal passeth for severity; if she countenance evil by suffering it, she is ac∣cused of indulgency: if valour throw her self upon a danger, which she cannot shun, men esteem her rash; if she shun occasions, when her duty calls upon her, she is blamed of fearfulnesse; and by a strange destiny, she that was a profest enemy to fear, grows to love her, and becomes

her slave. Truth is not more fortunate then vertue; for she is en∣vironed with errours, which surprise her if she go out of the way; and if she listen to them, bereave her of her purity: she is seduced by falsehood, if wisedom and faith assist her not; the desire of combat engageth in danger, and her covering to overcome, makes her oft∣times lose the victory. Fear is often more fatall to her than is her own courage; for whilest she avoides one enemy, she falls upon an∣other; and thinking to shun an ill step or two, she falls into a preci∣pice. This misfortune may be observed upon a thousand occasions, but particularly in what concerns the body of man: for some seeing the unrulinesse thereof, could not beleeve that it was the workman∣ship of God; and falling insensibly into an Errour, perswaded them∣selves, that the Devil was the author thereof: some others, thinking to withstand this heresie, fall into another, and considering, the beauties of the body, thought that it still retained its first purity, that the faults thereof were perfections, and that all the motions thereof might be represt by free-will, without grace. The Catho∣lick truth walks in the midst between these two errours; condemn∣ing the Manichees, she acknowledgeth that mans body is made by God enlivened by his breath, and fastened to the soul by invisible chaines, to make one and the same whole: condemning the Pelagi∣ans, she confesseth that mans body hath lost its innocencie; that sin reigns in the members thereof, that it infecteth the soul which ina∣nimates it, and that the well fare thereof, which begins in Baptisme, will not be accomplisht till the last generall resurrection. Thus God is the Author thereof, and 'tis a marke of 'its n 1.2 Goodnesse; Jesus Christ is the redeemer thereof, and 'tis a mark of it's corruption. I therefore am obliged to part this subject into two discourses, the first of which shall contain the bodyes plea, the other its condem∣nation.

Though the body be the least part of man, and that it be Com∣mon to him with beasts, yet hath it advantages which make it suffi∣ciently known, that it is destin'd to be the organ of an immortall soul. For the members thereof are so artificially formed, as we can∣not judge whether they be more usefull or more pleasing; their number causeth no confusion, their difference augments their beau∣ty, and their proportion gives the last touch to the work which they all together make up. All of them have their particular employ∣ments,

they mutually assist one another, without intrenching one upon another; they hold such intelligence as their good and bad is common: the tongue serves for interpreter to the whole body, the eyes serve it for a guide, the hands for its servants, the ears for in∣formers, and the leggs for supporters. Some of them are in perpe∣tuall motion, and never rest, Action is their life, and rest their death: whilest the eyes are lull'd asleep, the ears closed up, and whilest the feet and hands lie fallow, the heart is always in action; it seems that nature intended to make it her chief piece of workmanship, and that she employ'd all her industry to render it admirable.

'Tis the first part of man that lives, and the last that dies; it is so o 1.3 little; as 'twill not suffice to give a Kite a meal; and yet so great, as the whole world cannot satisfie it: nothing but his immensity that made it, can fill the infinite capacity thereof. All passions derive from it, as from their spring-head; 'tis this that causeth love and ha∣tred? 'tis this that shuns what it hates for fear, and draws neer to what it loves through desire. 'Tis lodged like a King in the midst of its sub∣jects; it gives its orders, without departing from its Throne; its motions are the rules of our health, and assoon as it is assailed, we are sick: its least hurts are mortall: Nature, which knows the worth and the weaknesse thereof, hath endued all its subjects with a se∣cret inclination to expose themselves for its defence, the hands put by the blows that are made at it; and knowing that their welfare consists in the preservation thereof, they hazard themselves to save it from danger. To reward this their service, this Sovereigne is so vigilant, as he never takes rest; he labours alwayes for the weal-publick, and whilest the senses are asleep, he is busied in moving the Arteries, in forming the Spirits, and in distributing them about all the parts of the Body. The Braines finish this work, and giving it its last perfection, dispose it to the noblest operations of the soul. This work ceaseth not, though men sleep; though the Soul take some re∣freshment, these two parts of the Body are always in action; and when they cease to move, they cease to live. All these live in so full a peace, as the difference of their temper is not able to disturbe it: Cold accords there with heat, moystnesse is there no longer an enemy to drynesse; and the elements which cannot tolerate one an∣other in the World, conspire together in man, for his bodies pre∣servation. If any disorder happen, it is occasioned by forreign heat,

the naturall Subjects never trouble the States tranquility: they are so straightly joyn'd by their Interests, as nothing can befall the one which the other doth not resent; the pain of one part is the sicknesse of the whole body: p 1.4 and if the foot be hurt, the tongue complains, the heart sighes, the eyes weep, the head bowes to con∣sider the evill, and the armes extend themselves to apply remedy.

If their love be so rare, their obedience is no lesse remarkable; for they force their own inclinations to observe the orders of the will; and their fidelity is so ready, as the command is no sooner impos'd, then obey'd: at their Soveraigns bare motion, the hands strive to be acting, the tongue explains his intentions, the eyes ex∣presse his thoughts, and the eares execute his designs. The will findes out so much submission in the faculties of the soule, as in the parts of the body; she is oft-times divided by her desires, and opposed by her own inclinations; sheis a rebell to her selfe, & cannot comprehend how one and the same object can cause horrour and love in her at the same time: but she never commands her body without being obey'd, and unlesse passions make a mutiny in it, or that it be dis∣order'd by sicknesse, it fulfils her orders with as much readinesse, as faithfulnesse.

She likewise undertakes nothing without the assistance of this faithfull companion, q 1.5 she stands in need of his aid in her noblest operations; and though she be a meer spirit, she can neither dis∣course, nor reason, but by the interposition of the body: if she will forme thoughts, she must consult with the imagination; and if she will explain them, she is forced to make use either of tongue, or hand: r 1.6 she hath no strong agitations which appear not in the eyes, and when she is disquieted by any violent passion, 'tis soon seen in the face. A man must be very vigilant to hinder the commerce be∣tween the body and the soule; the rules of discretion, and all art of policy, which re-commends dissimulation to Soveraigns, can∣not keep their countenances from discovering their designes, nor their eyes from betraying their wills: the soule conceales nothing from this her faithfull confident; he that could well study the chan∣ges which appear in the face, might infallibly know the alterations of the minde; and without needing to wish as that ridiculous Pa∣gan did, one might read in the forehead, the hearts most secret thoughts. If Physiognomie be a Science, she hath no certainty but

what she draws from the connexion which nature hath placed be∣tween the soule and the body; all her observations are grounded upon the noblest part of the body; if all be true that is said of her, as soon as she sees the face, she knows the humour; and without or Charmes or Magick, she knows their intentions, whose Linea∣ments she observes. Though I dare not acknowledge all this, and that I have much a do to believe that a Physiognomist can discover the designes of a wise Minister of State, by looking him in the face, and that without racking a malefactour, he may read his fault in his eyes; it sufficeth me to know that this Science is grounded up∣on the commerce between the soule and the body, and that she draws her conjectures from the straight union that is between them.

As the Soule doth not forme any designe, wherein the body is not a complice; so doth she taste no contentment, wherein the bo∣dy doth not share a part: if s 1.7 she enjoy the beauties of nature, 'tis by the Senses; if she see the Azure of the Skie, the light of the stars; if she discover the extent of Fields, the fertility of vallies; if she hear the fall of Rivers, the musick of Birds, if she judge of the Glosse or Sent of Lillies, or Roses; 'tis by the benefit either of the sight, hearing, or smelling. It seems the world was made for the bodies diversion, and that all those pleasing parts which go to the composure thereof, have onely been made to delight the senses; the Sun is of no use to the glorified Spirits, and all the brightnesse of that goodly Constellation cannot light the Angels; those noble Intelligences have a spirituall world wherewith they are possest, and ravisht: they finde their happinesse in God, and all that we wonder at in the world, affords them no delight. Materia is requi∣site to tasting the pleasures of sensible nature; such contentments presuppose a low condition, and it is common with Beasts to partake of such diversions. 'Tis notwithstanding one of the bodies least advantages, that the world should be made for it's use; and that this chiefe piece of Gods workmanship is destined either for it's service, or it's delight.

Jesus Christ followed his Fathers steps; and when he came up∣on earth, he would have the body to be the object of his mercy, and of his power; though he laboured for the conversion of sinners, his greatest miracles were wrought for the healing of the sick; and the body being mans weakest part, he thought he was to treat it

with most mildnesse, and to furnish it with as many remedies, as sin hath procured it maladies. Somtimes he clensed it of the lepro∣sie, * 1.8 and restored to it's former purity; somtimes he freed it from blindnesse, and restored unto it the noblest of it's senses; somtimes cured it of the Palsey, and restored it to the use of it's Members: somtimes he withdrew it from the Grave, and re-united it to it's soule, contrary to the hope of nature; somtimes he freed it from the Tyranny of Devils, and re-establisht it in it's former freedoms.

Neither did he neglect it in the institution of the Sacraments; for though they were chiefly ordained for the soules sanctification, and that these admirable Channels poure grace into the soule, yet are they applied upon the body before they produce their effects in the will; and they respect joyntly the two parts which go to mans composure. u 1.9 The body is washt in water, to the end that the soule may be purified; the body is marked with the Figure of the Crosse, to the end that the soule may be fortified; the body receives the unction, to the end that the soule may be consecrated; the body receives the imposition of hands, to the end that the soule may re∣ceive Grace; and the body eates the flesh and bloud of Christ Je∣sus, to the end that the soule may be thereby nourished: Thus doth not religion destroy nature, and in her highest mysteries the pro∣vides for the soules safety, by means of the body. x 1.10 This maxime is so true, as that all Divinity confesseth, that the soule can no long∣er merit, when she is once parted from the body; whil'st they are together in company, their grace may be augmented; and what∣soever vertues they have acquired, they may yet acquire more, but when once death hath divided them, and that the body losing 't's lustre, is reduced either to ashes, or to wormes; the soule can no longer increase her merit, and in that condition she is onely capa∣ble of punishment, or of reward.

Having so many obligations to her body, she cannot forget them, nay even in the state of Glory, where all her designes ought to be satisfied, she wisheth to be re-united to her body, as that wherein her intire felicity consisteth. For though she reign with Angels, that she behold the divine Essence, and that she enjoy a happinesse, to which even wishes cannot adde, yet hath hath she a passion for her body, and all the good she doth possesse cannot take from her the desire, nor memory thereof; though she hath

made triall of it's revolts; though this friendly enemy hath oft∣times persecuted her, and that she hath desired death to be freed from the Tyranny thereof, yet doth she languish after it, and contrary to their humour who have recovered liberty, yet she longs for that which did engage her in servitude. Though the body be reduced to dust, though it cause pity in it's Enemies, and though it cause hor∣rour in those to whom it was so lovely, she forbeares not to desire it, and to expect the resurrection with Impatience, that her body may partake of the blisse which she enjoyes.

And 'tis not without much justice that she beares so much love to her body, since she owes the greatest part of her advantages un∣to it, and that she hath hardly any vertue, or light, which she hath not acquired by the assistance of the senses. The soule is ignorant when first infused into the body; the knowledge which the Plato∣nists attribute unto her, is but a meer capacity of apprehending. If she will be intrusted, she must be advised either by her eyes, or by her eares, she must consult with these Masters, if she will free her selfe from ignorance. How noble soever she be by birth, y 1.11 she hath but weak conjectures of truth, if these faithfull officers should faile her; and should she be ingaged in a body which should have no use of senses, she would be plunged in eternall darknesse. Sight and hearing are the Organs destined to knowledge, and he who is borne deafe and blinde, is destined to live and die ignorant.

As the soule receives these advantages by the body, so doth she distribute them by the bodies assistance, and doth not expresse her thoughts but by the mouth of her Interpreter: she gives with the tongue, what she hath received by the eare; and as she is rich onely by means of the senses, so is she by them onely liberall. She ob∣serves the different qualities of objects by the eyes, she judgeth of the diversity of sounds by the eares; she comprehends mens in∣tentions by their discourse, z 1.12 she makes hers known by the tongue, and this miraculous part of the body frames words which draw her thoughts unto the life: If those who are absent cannot under∣stand her, she hath recourse to the hand, which draws her dictates upon paper: and which makes that appear to the eyes, which the tongue could not make the eares comprehend. Thus the soule acts onely by the body, and all Sciences by which we are either instru∣cted or perswaded, are as well the work of the senses, as of the soule.

Vertue it selfe owes her birth to the meanest part of man, and were he not made of flesh and bloud, he could offer no sacrifice to God, neither could he satisfie divine Justice by his repentance. The a 1.13 purity which equals him with Angls, is not wholly spirituall; if be borne in heaven, 'tis bred upon earth; and if it begin in the soul, it ends in the body. Fasting and silence keep the flesh under to pu∣rifie the soule, and if man had not a tongue and mouth, he could neither praise God in silence, nor honour him by self-affliction. Mar∣tyrdom, which is the utmost of charity, and the highest degree of perfection, is consummated onely in the flesh; meer spirits cannot be a prey to wilde beasts, and a soule which hath put off her body cannot overcome Tyrants, nor triumph over Executioners. Mor∣tallity is requisite to Martyrdom, and if the Angels be somwhat more than we men, because they cannot die, they are in some sort lesse, because they cannot suffer: death is the triall of our love, and as oft as we lose our lives in Christs quarrell, we strike terrour into devils, and fill Angels with admiration.

In fine, the honour which God receives on earth, proceeds from the body. 'Tis the body which is his Priest and Victime; 'tis the body which bears his imprinted characters in it's face; 'tis the body which commands on earth, and which playing the part of Gods Lieutenant, findes obedience amongst the Elements, and mildnesse amongst savage beasts. 'Tis the body which fights for the Glory of the Son of God, and which defends his Interest to the face of Tyrants, and which sings his praises amidst the Flames. 'Tis the body which being made by his hands, and in-livened by his breath, hath the honour to be his workmanship, and his Temple. b 1.14 'Tis the body which is the object of his love, and of his care; which seeth the Sun surround the world to lighten it, fruits bud to nourish it, flowers spring up to recreate it, and whole nature labours for it's pleasure, or service. In fine, 'tis the body which is offered up upon Altars, which fights in persecutions, which praiseth God in pros∣perity, which blesseth him in afflictions, which honours him in death, which in the Grave expects his promises, which will rise again at the end of the World, and which will reign for ever in Heaven.

The second Discourse.

Of the miseries of the Body in Generall.

THe evils which we receive from the body are so great, as that al Philosophy is nothing but an invective c 1.15 against this enemy of our repose. If we beleeve the Platonists, tis a prison wherein the Soul is inclosed to expiate the sins which she hath committed in Heaven. If we will listen to the Academicks, tis a grave wherein the Soul is buried, and where being more dead than alive, she cannot make use of all those perfections which she hath received from Nature. d 1.16 If we trust the Stoicks, tis a disobedient slave, which opposeth it self to all the souls desires, and which being born to obey, hath no so great passion as to command, tis a subject which aspires to Tyranny, and which forceth its legitimate sove∣reign to forgo both honour, and vertue, and to embrace voluptuous∣nesse. If we will give ear to the Peripateticks, who come neerest the truth, tis the least part of Man, which being given him to serve the soul, crosseth all her designs, and hinders the execution of her no∣blest enterprises. Hence it is, that all Philosophers do what in them lieth, to have no commerce with the body, and wish for death or old age, to the end that the one may weaken this Domestick enemy, and that the other may free them from it.

Christian Religion, which marcheth in the midst of errours with assurance, confesseth, that the body is as well the workmanship of God as the soul is, and though it be not altogether so noble, it cea∣seth not to be destined to the same happinesse. But as slaves are pu∣nisht for their masters, and as children sometimes bear the punish∣ment of their fathers sins, the body hath been punisht for the soul, and from the time it became confederate in her crime, it partook in her punishment. Though the soul be the more guilty, the body is the more unfortunate; and of the two parts which go to the compo∣sure of man, the most innocent seems to be the most miserable. For to boote that it is subject to pain by reason of the elements bad in∣telligence, e 1.17 that it undergoes sicknesses whereby the health there∣of

is prejudiced, that it cannot be cured but by troublesome reme∣dies, that the fear of death be a punishment which lasts as long as its life, it is notwithstanding occasion of the most sins whereof the soul is guilty; and this Sovereign thinketh she should be innocent, if she were not fastened to so guilty a Party.

To disintangle all these things, we must know, that when the soul lost her priviledges, the body lost likewise its advantages; f 1.18 for the same grace w•• made the soul pleasing to God, made the body sub∣ject to the soul, & the same innocencie which preserved the sovereign from sin, warranted the slave from death: But when once man be∣came guilty, he became unfortunate; and when once he lost origi∣nall righteousnesse, he therewith lost all the dependencies thereup∣on; Errour and blindness slid into the understanding, malice gli∣ded into the will; and by a consequence, which Divine Justice made necessary, illusion crept into the senses, sicknesse altered mans tem∣per, pain disquieted his rest, and death sho tened his life. These punishments are so irksome as each of them deserves a discourse; and not to enter upon a subject which I should handle more at large, it shall suffice me for the present to make it manifest, that though the body be the Souls slave, since sin it is become her Tyrant, and that it neither tastes of contentment, nor suffers sorrow wherein it shares not with her.

Pain is a sensible evill, and were not the Soul ingaged in the bo∣dy, she without the least commotion would behold the most grie∣vous punishments; but nature having composed man of these two different parts, the bodies pain, is the Souls punishment, their good and their bad are common between them, the more noble suffers with the more ignoble, and by a strange misfortune, the soul which needs no nourishment, fears famine; she who is spirituall, fears pain, g 1.19 and she who is immortall apprehends death; she is afflicted with whatsoever hurts the body, and as if her love had changed her Es∣sence, she seems to be become Corporeall. By a sequell as shamefull as necessary, she takes her part of all the bodies pleasures; she shapes desires, unnecessitated, she follows the inclmations of its senses, and forgoing truth and vertue, wherein all her innocent delights ought to consist, she rellisheth the flowers with the smelling, she tastes meat with the Pallate, she hears Musick with the ears, and seeth the diversity of colours with the eyes. Being thus become sensuall, she

is not to be loosened from the body, she forgets her naturall advan∣tages, by neglecting them, she forgoes commerce with spirits to treat with beasts; the fear she hath of death, makes her doubt her immortallity; the love she hath to pleasure, makes her despise ver∣tue, and to engage her selfe too far in her slaves interest, she learns new crimes, whereof she was before innocent.

For although the soule be not impeaceable, and that her will be not so constant in what is good, but that she may be unfortunately parted from it, yet is she not capable of all sorts of crimes; she may be seduced by falshood, blown up by vaine glory, abased by sad∣nesse, and gnawn by envy, but she should be exempt from such sins, as she is perswaded unto by the senses, if she were dis-ingaged from the body. Meer spirits are not scorcht with unchaste flames; divels are not unchaste, h 1.20 save onely for that they counsell us to im∣purity: They are pleased with this vice, onely because Jesus Christ is thereby injured, and our soules would finde no trouble in being chaste, did they not love unchaste bodies: drunkennesse, the va∣pours whereof cloud reason, is not so much a sin of the soule, as of the body; did not the soule swim in the bloud, the body would never be drown'd in wine; i 1.21 and the greatest drunkard of the world would forgoe his love to this sin, if death had un-robd him of his body; a man must partake much more of a beast, than of an Angel, if he fall into this disorder; and men who make more use of their soules, then of their bodies, are not much subject to this infamous Irregularity. Gluttony (which may be termed the sister or the mother of drunkennesse) lodgeth neither in the will, nor in the understan∣ding, it makes it's abode in the body; the pallate which tastes viands, the stomack which disgests them, are it's faithfull officers; if it make any use of the understanding, k 1.22 'tis for the service of the belly; and if it reason at any time, 'tis but to finde out new sauces, which may awaken appetite. Covetousnesse, though it contest with ambition, and be insatiable, is rather a sin of the senses, than of the soule; for this illustrious Captive, makes not so many wishes for her selfe, as for the body which she inanimates: Glory and vertue are the onely objects of her desires; when she labours to get riches, or to seek out pleasure, she fits her selfe to the humour of her slave, and acts more through complacency, than inclination, or necessity; 'tis the body which needs the light of the constellati∣ons

to light it, the fruites of the earth to nourish it, the skins of beasts to cloth it, and all the beauties of nature for it's diversion.

All Artslabour onely for the service thereof; l 1.23 though they be the work of the understanding, they be the bodies servants; and set those aside which have affinity with sciences, all the rest labour onely to entertain the senses; some cut out clothes to cover us, o∣thers raise houses for us to lodge in; some till the earth to nourish us, others seek for pearl in the bottome of the sea, and diamonds in the bowels of the earth for our adornment; if the soule become ingenious in inventing things which are superfluous, and of no use, she is there unto sollicited by reason of the bodies need, and she forgoes all these cares as soon as she is got out of prison. The Rebell Angels never fought to divide the riches of the earth, the division of Provinces, or Kingdoms, did never move ambition in them, the beauty of women never caused in them loose desires, nor did ever any of those sins which arise from flesh & bloud, tempt those haughty spirits. The greatest part of our excesse derives from the body; if we were parted from it, we should either become innocent; or if in that condition we should have either ambition, or avarice, their motive and object would be altered. The greatest Conquerours have no motions which are not common to them with Lions; Lovers jea∣lousie is not more noble then is that of Buls; and the husbandry of the Avaritious is not more just then is that of Owles, and Ants: if men be more to blame then beasts, 'tis because their soule com∣plies with their bodies, and that she makes use of her advantages, to supply her slaves necessities. But the mischiefe takes it's originall from the body; and as the woman tempted man after she had been seduced by the devill, the flesh tempts the spirit after having been sollicited by objects which flatter the senses.

I very well know that in the State of Innocency, the soule was first guilty, and that the body being subject to reason could not ex∣cite the first seditions; it was obedient to it's Sovereign, and as long as the soule was subject to God, the body was subject to the soule; but when once the soule rebell'd against her God, her body scorn'd to be commanded by her. And as mans fault had been a revolt, his punishment was a rebellion also. All our mischief ariseth from the bad intelligence which is held between the two parts, whereof we are composed; he who could appease their differences,

might remedy our sins; and if the body did no longer rebell against the soule, we should have reason to hope, that the soule would no longer rebell against God.

To understand this truth, m 1.24 which seems at first to gain-say the rules of humane reasons, you must know, that Generation is the way by which Adams sin is transmitted into our soules, should not inherit the bodies sin, nor misery. From this impure, and fruitfull spring-head do all our mis-fortunes derive; the blind∣nesse which cloudes our understanding, draws it's obscurity from the body; falshood, and vanity enter our soules by the gate of our senses; and if sins end in the will, they begin in the imagination. Love glides into the heart by the eyes; he who could be blinde, might easily be chaste; if calumny be formed in the heart, it is dealt abroad by the tongue; and what in the thought was but the malady of one particular man, becomes by discourse the contagion of a whole Town. n 1.25 Conceptions are spread abroad by words, and faults are multiplied by communication; if those who are dumb, conceive envie, they cannot shew it by detraction; and if they ex∣presse it by signes, 'tis either the hands, or eyes, which makes them guilty: our soule is not infected with falshood, or heresie, save by our most refined sense; these two poisons are taken in by the care, not by the mouth: And as faith and truth enter the soule by hear∣ing, their mortall enemies make their passage by the same way: a man must stop his eares, and shut his eyes if he will keep his heart pure. It were to be wisht, that men were blinde, that so they might not see the beauty which inchants them; & that women were deafe, that they might not hear the praises which seduce them. o 1.26 In fine, the world abuseth us onely by our senses; it's pernicious Maximes get into our soules by our eares, the vanities thereof corrupt our wills by our eyes; and all those objects, whose different beauties do be witch us, make no impression in our soule, but by our body. We should be invulnerable, were we spirituall; and of a thousand temptations which we have, we should hardly be troubled with one, were we not engaged in Materia.

To compleat our mis-fortune, we love our enemy, the bad offi∣ces he doth us cannot diminish our love. All the Maximes of Reli∣gion cannot perswade us to revenge; and though this motion of

the minde be so pleasing to the injured, it seems severe unto us, when we are invited to punish our body. Our passion for this un∣faithfull one, p 1.27 is not extinguished by death. The damned pre∣serves it amidst the flames; though they know their pains shall be increased by the resurrection of their body; they cannot chuse but desire it. In hell hope triumphs over fear and pain; and this cruell enemy hath so many charmes, as though he be reduced to dust, yet doth he cause love in the soule which did inanimate him. The re∣membrance of the injuries which the soule hath received from the body, and the fear of pain which she expects from thence, is not able to stifle this desire. She hopes for the day of Judgement, where she must be condemned; though she know her punishment will be increased by her re-union with her body; she cannot but desire it with impatience, and places the delay thereof in the number of her sufferings. So as we are bound to conclude, that if the body be the cause of sin during life, it will be the punishment thereof after death; and that if it hath made the soule guilty upon earth, 'twill make her unhappy in hell.

The third Discourse.

Of the Infidelity of the Senses.

NAture being so intermingled with sin, as that the one is the production of God; the other the work of man; the prai∣ses which we give to the former, are always mingled with Invectives made against the latter; and we cannot value the beauty of nature, unlesse we blame the out-rages which q 1.28 she hath recei∣ved from sin; the figure of mans body is an evident signe of his Makers wisdome. The Lineaments of his face bindes us to admire the power of the hand which hath formed them, and the disposall of the parts thereof, draw no lesse praises from our mouthes, than the like of the universe. But the disorder which we see in mans Temperature, the opposition of those Elements which go to his composure, and that generall revolt which hath shed it self through∣out all his members, obligeth us to detest sin, which is the cause

thereof. We must argue in the same sort concerning our senses, and confesse, that as their use deserves estimation, their irregularity de∣serves blame.

They are admirable in their structure, and were they not com∣mon to us with beasts, we might be permitted to glory in them. The operation of the noblest of them is so subtill, as that the soule, as divine as she is, can hardly comprehend it; she admireth these Master-pieces of nature, though she have so great a share in their miracles, yet knows she not how they are done; and thinks strange that she should contribute to wonders which she cannot conceive. For the soule inanimates the senses, and this spirituall forme, is a created Divinity which sees by the eyes, heares by the eares, and expresseth it selfe by the mouth. But if the senses have their per∣fections, they have also their defects; and if the soule receive any service by them, she is by them likewise much injured. They are the gates of falshood and errour, vanity slides into our soules, by their means; they are exposed to illusions; the objects wherewith they are pleased corrupt them; and being once corrupted by delight, they make no true reports unto the soule. Nature hath endowed us with them, that we might know God by things visible, and to raise us up to consider the beauty of the Creatour by the like of his works; these deceitfull Guides do notwithstanding abuse us, and sollicited either by delight, or interest, make Idols unto themselves of all the creatures, and lead us to adore sensible and perishable Gods. r 1.29 Saint Augustine confesseth, that he never went astray in his beliefe, save when he would follow them; and that he never enga∣ged himselfe in errour, save when he gave beliefe to their advise; he sought out God with his eyes, he would have touched him with his hands, and thought to have found him in the world, whom he carried about with him in his heart. He gave commission to all his senses to finde him out, but these ignorant messengers could learn him nothing; and he found not his God, because he knew not how rightly to seek for him.

Their ignorance would be excusable, were it not accompanied with injustice; but these evill Counsellours grow insolent in chi∣ding us, after they have abused us, and make violence succeed su∣perchery; they tyrannize over our souls, after having seduced them, and make the Sovereign take laws from his slaves. According to

the Government of the Universe, Inferiour things are alwas subject to their superiour: as the earth is lesse noble than the Heavens, it is also lower; it receives their influences, thereof with respect, and all the fruit it beareth, raise themselves up towards the stars, to witnesse that it's fruitfulnesse derives from their Influences. In Civill Go∣vernment, women are subject unto their husbands, and slaves obey their Masters; in Politique, the people hold of their Sovereign, and the Kings will, is the Subjects laws; but in man this order is reverst by an irregularity, which can be nothing but the punishment of sin: his soule depends upon his body; and in her noblest operations, she is obliged to be advised by the senses. Her condition is so unhappy, as she seems almost enforced to believe the ignorant, to follow the blinde, and to obey Rebels. A man would blame a State, where fools should command over wise men, where children should pre∣scribe laws to the Ancient, and where women should have domini∣on over their husbands; yet corrupted nature is engaged in this dis∣order; and since our first Fathers sin, the senses are the souls Coun∣sellours, and this faint-hearted Sovereign, renouncing her lawfull authority, receives orders from her slaves.

Their tyranny hath occasioned another, more cruell, and more dangerous; for as they are subject to the devills illusions, they fight under his colours, and become accessary to all his wicked designes: he s 1.30 hath wonall our senses over to him since sin; the noblest are most trusty to him, and he hath so corrupted them, as one must ei∣ther be very wise, or very fortunate to defend himselfe from them. He hath put slandering in the tongue, uncleannesse in the eyes, er∣rour in the eares, revenge in the heart, and pride in the head: He hath disperst disobedience amongst the passions, revolt amongst the members, and infidelity amongst all the senses. If we speak, he sol∣licits us to speak wrongfully; if we hear, he engageth us in errour; if we look, he strikes us in love; if we think upon our injuries, he incites us to revenge; and if we consider our advantages, he makes us vain glorious. Thus are our senses the Executours of his fury, the parts of our body are confederate in his faultinesse, and the members which nature hath given us to defend our selves, are the weapons which he makes use of to fight against us. But lest I may be accused of adding to our mis fortune to excuse our sin; I will consider the senses in particular, and after having observed their advantages, I will consider their defects.

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If the eye be not the Noblest, tis at least the most beautifull of all our senses; and if it be not most usefull, tis at least the most de∣lightfull. Nature imployes nine Moneths in forming it, it is one of the parts of the Body she begins the soonest, and ends the last: tis a Master peece of workmanship, wherein her power, and t 1.31 her dexte∣rity are equally to be admired: She mingles conrraries so warily there; as waters are there observed to agree with flames; they are the rises of fire and of tears, which cause deluges, & inflammations: All passions are there seen in their glory; sorrow and joy make it their chiefest Theatre, and when the heart burns with love or with hatred; it darteth out Thunder and lightning by the eyes: their greatnesse is rather a prodigie than a wonder; for they inclose the u 1.32 Heavens with all the stars therein, the sea with all her rocks, and earth with all its mountains, the severall species of all these objects lodge there without confusion, and Nature is amazed to see her whole Image, in so small a looking glasse. All their parts are of so nice a composition, as they are un∣discernable; the nerves which convey the sight are smaller than the hairs of the head, the thin filmes which covereth them, are more transparent then Christall, and the waters which are inclosed in their receptacles, are so calm, as no storm can trouble them: Nature, which governs her love according to the merit of her works, hath given them so many guards, as their excellencie is easily judged by her care in preserving them. x 1.33 For to boote that the hairs on the eye-lids, are as many bristled points which defend them; that the eye-brows, are arches which cover them, that the eye-lids, are vails which hide them; the hands are imployed to save them, and their Chief exercise, when in the dark, is to guard these sons, which guide us in the day time. They are so sudden in their operation as it holds of the Nature of lightning; they raise themselves up to the heavens, and descend to the depths in a moment, they finde out things furthest of without wearinesse, and by an ordinary miracle they joyn themselves to them, without disjoyning themselves from the body: They serve for an Interpreter to those that cannot speak, they expresse thoughts which the understanding dares not trust the tongue withall, they are so happy in their expressions as savadge men understand them, and they are so powerfull in their perswasi∣ons, as they oft-times obtain more by their looks, then the mouth can do by words.

But assuredly it must be confest, that their bad exceeds their good, and their defaults their advantages. For the greatest sins commence by the sight, love hath no force with those that are blinde; though he be blinde-folded, his looks make his greatest Conquest; and the arrows which he shoots proceed rather from his eyes then from his quiver: y 1.34 The subtilty of this sense serves onely to make it the more guilty; it commits faults where it is not, and being more subtil then thunder, it scorcheth People without touching them, it medi∣tates adulteries before the heart conceiveth them, and in all unchaste sins, it is alwaies first faulty; most men would be innocent, if they were blinde; and without seeking so many remedies against love, want of sight would serve the turn: z 1.35 The Soul having a more Noble residence in the eyes, then in the other senses, she shapes no wishes which she expresses not by them; nor conceives she any de∣signe, wherein they are not Complices.

Every part of the body is capable of some crime, and since our losse of innocency, we have no part in us which is not able to irritate Gods justice: But yet we have this of comfort in our misfortune that their mischiefe is bounded; and that by a fortunate disability, they can commit but one sort of sin. The hand is onely guilty of Murders and Theft, the tongue of blasphemy and calum∣nie, the ear of hearing, errour, and falshood, and the mouth of ex∣cesse in eating and drinking: but the eye is guilty of all crimes, it sees no object wherewith it is not tempted, and all sins which can kill our Souls, can seduce our light; a 1.36 pride seems to have establisht its Throne there, & lying is not more naturall to the tongue, then vain∣glory to the eyes As they have the art of speaking, they have also the cunning of mis-speaking, their very looks without the help of wor••s sufficiently witnesse their despisal: Slothfulnesse reignes there no lesse then obloquie; though they be so active, they cease not to be slothfull, drowsinesse assails them to make us sleep, they are sooner shut then the ears, and experience teacheth us, that we hear words when we see no objects: Anger is seen to break forth there in fury, Lightnings and Thunders burst forth from thence as messengers of revenge, and this violent passion makes not much more havock in the heart, than in the eyes: Like avarice, they are insatiable, that which hath been pleasing to them, causeth their pain, and their pu∣nishments arise from whence their desires did first derive. Envie sins more by the eyes than by the hands, though she be made to passe

for blinde, she looks upon her neighbours happinesse with repining, and should she have lost use of sight, she would have found a remedy for the greatest part of her torments. Uncleannesse b 1.37 lights her Torches at the eyes to consume the heart; she would be weak, were she not assisted by these faithfull officers; she undertakes nothing but by their looks, and before she imployes the hand to write, or the mouth to speak, she hath already made use of the eyes to expresse her designes. In fine, the eye is so guilty, as the wise Man findes nothing more pernitious, c 1.38 he wisheth to be blinde that he might purchase innocencie; and he leaves in dispute, whether Pesti∣lence and War, or the sight, be cause of greater Mischief.

As hearing contends with it for worth, so may it do for wicked∣nesse; and it must be granted that the good and bad which we re∣ceive thereby, are equally considerab••e; tis the sense which is most peculiar to the understanding, and which Nature and Religion seems to have addicted to the knowledge of the Highest Truthes: Nature makes d 1.39 use thereof to learn sciences; she knows generall things onely by the ears; and those who are deaf remain Ignorant much longer than those that are blinde. Religion makes use of it to insi∣nuate faith into the soul, of all our senses tis the only one which is faithfull to her; all the rest withstand faith, and meet with difficul∣ties which offend them: Hearing is more credulous, and more ratio∣nall, its affinity with the understanding, makes it capable of the won∣ders of Christianity; and the great Apostle e 1.40 confesseth, that Faith enters the Soul by the ears: Passions themselves are obedient to it, and these unruly Subjects which countenance the Empire of reason, obey the Empire of the care, tis by it that Commanders in∣courage their Souldiers to Battle, tis by it that Orators oppease in∣censed people, tis by it that Philosophers perswade their Disciples; tis by it that Polititians instruct Princes, and make Conquerours undertake gallant actions; eloquence, which works such wonders in the world, owes all her might to hearing; she languisheth upon pa∣per; when by the eyes she glides into the Soul, she looseth half her force, but she bereaves us of our liberty where she insinuates her self by the ears: and a man must be either stupid or opinionated, if he resist reasons which are pleasingly conveyed into the understanding by handsome discourse.

f 1.41 For all the praises are given to a sense so requisite to science and

Religion, it ceaseth not to have it's faults; and to bear the chara∣cters of sin. It is a slave to superstition, and errour; it makes here∣ticks, as well as true believers, and 'tis the part by which the Ser∣pents perswasions entred our first mothers soule. The poison which is poured in by the eare, is much more dangerous than that which is taken in by the mouth; and the soule is more easily corrupted by hearing, than by seeing. All vertues are endangered when set upon in this place, and there is not one of them, which is not ex∣treamly threatned, when the vice which is it's enemy, will make it come forth by the part by which it entred; 'tis by it, that idle dis∣course undertakes chastity; 'tis by it, that errour triumphs over truth; 'tis by it, that calumny oppresseth innocency; 'tis by it, that blasphemy doth spread abroad it's contagion; 'tis in fine, by it, that the devill drives out Jesus Christ, and possesseth himselfe of the Throne which he had raised up in our hearts. So as 'tis not without good reason, that the g 1.42 wise man counselleth us to hedge in our eares with thornes, and carefully to lock up a gate, by which falshood, heresie, and impiety do confusedly get into our soules: And 'tis not without cause that we declare, that if the whole body be infected by sin, the eare is the part most dangerously corrupted.

The fourth Discourse.

That the Passions are fickle, or wilde.

IF man were a meer spirit, he should have no passions, nor should his rest be ever troubled by these motions of the sensible soule. Angels h 1.43 which have no commerce with flesh and bloud, have one of these changes; if they desire any thing that is good, they languish not for it; if they punish a fault, they are not tran∣sported with choler; and if they assist us in our misery, they are not touched with compassion: whence I conclude, that passions proceed from the soules marriage with the body; and that it is as naturall for a man to hope, and feare, to love and hate, to rejoyce, and to be sorry, as to eate and drink, or to wake and sleep.

Since nature doth nothing without a reason, man reapes some

advantage by his passions, and meets with a thousand occasi∣ons, wherein i 1.44 he may make good use of them. Desire is the soules course, and she seems to command this nimble heeled passi∣on, to put her in possession of what she loves. Hope comes in to the succour of desire, and promiseth her such good successe, as she resolves to make her way through all difficulties, which oppose her designes. If hope meet with more opposition then she imagined, she calls in courage to her aid, which by her valour purchaseth her the enjoyment of what she had long wished for. Such passions as are opposite to these, serves the soule to keep aloofe from what she apprehends. Fear is her flight; she doth her utmost to keep her enemy off; though she be timerous, she mingleth her selfe with hope to effect her designes; and imployes boldnesse to overcome such dangers as threaten her; if her strength be too weak, she falls insensibly into despair; and giving way to griefe, doth of necessity become unhappy. Somtimes she assumes courage in her disasters; sollicited by hatred, animated by desire, and incouraged by despair, she gets the better of the enemy which possesseth her; and findes by experience, that somtimes to be happy, a man must have been miserable.

These passions have so much affinity with vertue, k 1.45 as let but never so little care be taken in husbanding them, they may become vertuous. Fear is serviceable to wisdome; wise men are always ti∣merous; good successe always their apprehension, and prosperity which makes others insolent, makes Polititians modest; The Tra∣gedian makes Agamemnon, from the ruine of Troy apprehend the like of Sparta; his victory causeth his diffidency, and the Poet, who will make this Prince a perfect Polititian, seems to have graf∣ted his wisdome onely upon fear. Audacity is a naturall fortitude, a man must be couragious to be valiant; this vertue is no lesse a work of nature, than of morality; and unlesse a mans constitution contribute towards his generosity, Philosophy with all her coun∣sell, will hardly make him seek out an honourable death. That which is said of Poets, ought to be affirmed of all vertuous men; as these cannot be famous in their profession, unlesse they be borne of that heat which is the soule of Poesy, these cannot be valiant, unlesse they be born with that generous heat, which desplseth dan∣gers, and which boasteth in the losse of life, when glory is won

thereby. Anger doth somwhat resemble justice, the one and the other of them will punish faults; and if the former be not better regulated in the revenge which she takes for injuries, 'tis because she is blinde, and that self-love whereby she is guided, makes her commit excesse. l 1.46 Sorrow and griefe are happy servants to repen∣tance; they mixt their tears together to bewaile one and the same sin, and the contrition of a guilty person is the joynt work of na∣ture and grace: As to be faithfull, a man must be rationall, so to be penitent, a man must be afflicted; and God will have passion to conspire with reason in repentance, to the end that the two parts whereof man is composed may satisfie justice. In fine, all the mo∣tions of the sensitive soule seem so addicted to good, as some of them cannot forgoe it's party; pitty is always praise-worthy, and the compassion of anothers evill, which she imprints in the heart, is so just, that the very Barbarians cannot condemne it; the indig∣nation which we conceive for the misery of the good, and for the prosperity of the wicked, is a naturall justice which hath not yet met with a censure rigid enough to blame it. The shame which makes us blush at our advantages, or our defaults, doth look so like modesty, as their Interests are inseparable; she serves for an orna∣ment to vertue, and for an expiation to sin; be it that her Father be infamous, or her mother glorious, the daughter is always e∣qually honourable; and if a man be too blame in having committed sin, he is to be praised in witnessing his shame, for having com∣mitted it.

But let Philosophers be as carefull as she pleaseth in praising of our passions, they have lost their innocency, since nature hath lost her purity. The justest of them are irregular, and those which seem to side with vertue, are slaves to sin; their first motions are out of our power; let us take what care we can to reduce them to their duty; they get on wing without our leave; they are sub∣jects to whom rebellion is naturall, m 1.47 wilde beasts which are ne∣ver tamed, and faithlesse souldiers which fight oftner in the behalf of vice, than of vertue. The Saints think themselves happy, when after much ado, they can overcome one of these domestick Enemies; their life is not long enough to assubject them totally; and when they think to have overcome them, they finde, that like Anteus in

the Fable, they draw strength from their weaknesse, and courage from their defeats: there is no passion in man which doth not set upon some vertues; oft-times they conspire together to fight a∣gainst them. They reconcile their own differences, that they may ruine them; and as the Elements use violence upon their qualities, to preserve nature; these force their inclinations to destroy her. Their peace is more fatall to us than war; & we know not, that whe∣ther they be more to be dreaded when they adopt themselves to our humours, or when they oppose our desires. The best of them (the state considered wherein they are put by sin) are almost always irregular, the most innocent of them seem to be somwhat crimi∣nall; and those which men mix with the vertues, have always some affinity with vice: the greatest part of their motions are violent, unlesse they be reformed to grace; and whatsoever advantage mo∣rality may promise unto her selfe by them, she findes by her experi∣ence, that it is never good sporting with a wilde beast, though it ap∣pear never so tame. Naturall pity is almost always unjust; she consi∣dereth the pain, but not the offence; n 1.48 she would break open prison, to let murtherers loose; and guilty men cease to be odious to her, if once they become miserable. Indignation is not much more just than pity; she complaines of the prosperity of the wicked, and of the good mans adversity, onely because she knows not that riches and honours are not the true rewards of vertue; and that shame and poverty are not the true punishments of sin. She is onely severe because she is blinde; she would not condemne the secrets of Gods providence, if she were conversant with the laws of justice, and * 1.49 mercy. Shame is alwayes mixt with sin; if sin be not the cause thereof, it is the occasion: And of as many guilty people as seem shamefull, there are but few which do not more fear the dishonour than the offence. It is very hard in the condition where∣unto sin hath reduced us, for the passions to be serviceable to us without grace; since nature is become our punishment, they are become our executioners; they serve for Ministers to Gods Ju∣stice, to revenge his goodnesse upon our offences; they must be subject to charity, if we will reap any profit by them; and if the greatest part of mens vertues be sins without faith, the greatest part of their passions are disorders without grace; they are not to be

safely guided by morality without Religion, their unrulinesse sur∣passeth her addresse; and as there are certain storms which passe the Pilots skill, there are revolts in man which exceed reason.

They say that Bees have some shadow of Policie in their Go∣vernment; they chuse a King whose wil they reverence, they fight for his Glory, and shew as much courage in War, as industry in Peace. They suck the juyce of flowers without tarnishing their Colours, they rob Gardens without disaraying them, and with the same sting wherewith they fight against their enemies, they make their hives and gather their hony. p 1.50 This handsome order endures no longer then doth their Kings life; for as soon as he is dead they give over working, betake themselves to parties, conspire one against another, & having no King to keep them within their bounds, they divide their state. Whilest innocencie made reason rul'd in Man, the passions were peaceable, all their motions were regular: anger committed no injustice, all its Decrees were equitable, and the measure of the offence was alwaies the rule of punishment; hatred set onely upon sin; and love betook himself wholly to vertue; e∣very passion plotted the publike good: but since originall righteous∣nesse hath forsaken Reason, and that man, being but half himself, hath ceased to be the perfect Image of God, his passions have despi∣sed his Empire, his Subjects have revolted, and losing the respect which he ought to God, he hath lost the authority which he had in his own person.

Profane Philosophy, which saw the effects of a cause, whereof she was ignorant, sought for a remedie, though without successe: She laughed at those, who would destroy the passions, as knowing that they were naturall to men; she invented some vertues to guide them; & forming unto her self a Continencie to moderate pleasures a fortitude to withstand sorrow, a wisdom to regulate accidents, and a Justice to decide the differentes between the Body and the Soul, she thought to have quieted all their disorder, and to have revived innocency in the world; but when she saw how weak these vertues were, despaire made her arm mutineeres, to suppresse one Passion by another, and to oppose hope to fear, choller to remissnesse, and sorrow to joy. This remedy proved worse than the disease; it in∣creased the number of the Rebels q 1.51 whom it would have lessened; & weakened reasons authority, whichit would have established. All

these different means unprofitably employed are sufficient proofs of our passions Malignity; and after all the means used by Philo∣sophy, it must be confest, that the motions of our Soul are disor∣dered by sin; that to make vertues of them, their nature must be almost totally altered, and that unassisted by Grace they are more dangerous mischiefs than either Pestilence or Famine.

One of them is sufficient to destroy a whole Province, a Mo∣narchs anger is the ruin of a State, and that which causeth suites at Law between particular men, kindles War between Princes. Am∣bition hath changed the face of the world a hundred times, the Deluge hath not made such waste therein, as hath the pride and vain glory of Conquerors; the marks of their i 1.52 g••eatnes are for the most part fatall; they build Towns upon the ruines of such as they have beaten down: their conquests do oft times begin with violence and injustice; vertue hath seldom been the reward of their victory, he who hath been most fool-hardy hath oft-times been most fortu∣nate; the whole world dreaded Alexanders ambition, & one only man, hath or caused fear in all men. The desire of glory made him swim in his Enemies blood; this passion was augmented by good successe, victory ingaged him in new Battails; the more fortunate he was, the more was he insolent; had not death stopt the course of his con∣quests, he would have made all Nature groan: Asia Europe and Af∣frica would have had but one and the same Tyrant; and his Subjects ruine would have been the onely proof of his authority. Adams fault never appeared more than in Alexander; we should not beleeve that our father aspired to make himself God, if this his Son had not imitated him; and we should hardly beleeve that man in the state of innocency had any proud desires, had not this Prince had insolent thoughts in the state of sin. The world seemed too little to his am∣bition, his Vanity thought Usurpation lawfull, and he was so blind∣ed with passion as that he thought it no the every to plunder a king∣dom, or Murther to Defeate an Army.

By all this discourse tis easie to inferre, that the passions are re∣bels which are partiall in their siding with sin, and which are never so much assubjected to the Soul, but that they are alwaies ready to obviate her Power, and ruine her authority: They are like the Prae∣torian Souldiers, who made merry with their Princes heads, who made and unmade their Sovereignes, onely in reference to their

own interest; who gave the Empire to those, who offered most for it, and who made no election which began not with murther: for these heady giddy Subjects have no other motion than either their own pleasure or proffit; they obey not reason, save onely when they like her commands, and to reap any profit by them, they must be won either by threates or promises; they help us, onely in hurting us; they do rather occasion the exercising our vertue, then assist the practice thereof; and as if they were of the devils humour, they advance our wellfare only, in labouring our losse; their assistance is almost alwayes pernitious; they must be used as the Poets say Aeolus used the windes; threates must be used with the orders which we give them; They are like those horses in the chariot of the sun in Ovid; they must be be roughly dealt withall before they reduced; and their Nature must be changed, ere their violence be overcome. Anger turnes to fury when not moderated; desire and hope go astray when not regulated; Audacity grows rash, when not held in; and sorrow turns to despaire, when not sweetened; so as all passions in∣struct us, that Nature is corrupted by sin; and that to assubject them to reason, a Man must guide himself by the motions of Grace.

The fifth Discourse.

That the health of Man is prejudiced by sicknesse.

AMongst a thousand differences which distinguish Christian Grace from originall righteousnesse, one of the chiefest is, that the former sanctifies the Souls onely, and the other did sanctifie the whole man, and wrought admirable effects in his body. For in the profession of Christianity, the senses are yet Subject to the Illusions of the Devil, objects do yet move the passions; and reason is oft surprised by their motions. The Sacraments do not warrant us from death, and the remedies which Jesus Christ hath left unto his Church do not cure our sicknesses. But in the state of innocency, originall righteousnes was a plentifull spring-head which

dispersed abroad its rivulets into both the parts which go to the composure of man. For it brought fidelity to the senses, obedience to the passions, and peace to the Elements; hence it was, that man preserving his advantages, s 1.53 was exempt from sicknesse and death: The seasons not being yet irregular, nothing could alter his temper, and his humours being uncorrupted, nothing could have prejudiced his health: But with the losse of his innocency, he lost all his privi∣ledges and he was no sooner sinfull, but he began to be sick.

This is so constant a truth, as that mans life is nothing but a long sicknesse which never ends but in death: he is born in sorrow aswell as in sin; his entrance into the world is no lesse painfull, then shamefull; if this monster like the viper, rip up the bowells of his Mother, he himself feels a part of the pain, which he makes her suffer, and he runs as much danger, as she who brings him into the world. Therefore tis that Saint Austin sayes handsomly, that to be born, is to begin to suffer, and that to live in the body is to begin to be sick: The disorder of seasons is sufficient to corrupt the best constitutions, and the Alterations which happen in the world make such impressions in the Body as trouble the temper thereof. Though Nature be a wise Mother, that she prepare us for the Summers heat by the moderate warmth of the spring, and that she fits us for the winters cold by the moistnesse of Autumn, yet is the body of man so weak as notwithstanding all these precautions, she cannot free it from incommodity; Physicians themselves observe, that every season brings with it its maladie: and that ruling over such humours as accord with them, they never suffer us to enjoy perfect health.

The Elements agree not better than do the seasons, there is al∣wayes some one of them which predominates to the prejudice of the rest, they commit outrages each upon other; and as bloud and chol∣ler, discharge themselves when over heated; flegme and Melan∣cholly do the like when they are corrupted; their good intelligence is fatall to man; this calm threatens him with a terrible storm, and he is never nearer sicknesse, than when in perfectest health; besides these incommodities which spring from his temper, there are others which proceed from indigencie, and which oblige him every day to seek for cure, he is dayly tormented with hunger and thirst, t 1.54 and these are so pressing maladies, as he cannot defer their reme∣dies

without hazarding his life. Naturall heat commits spoil in the body which ought to be repaired. The fire which inanimates us, consumes us, and if it be not furnisht with nourishment to enter∣tain it, it dischargeth it's fury upon the radicall moisture which pre∣serves us. 'Tis a lamp that goes out when left without oyle; and a man is so corrupted since sin, as that which we call life, is but a long death; and that which is termed health, is but a continuall sicknesse. Nature is become our punishment, every part of our bo∣dy is bound by the Justice of God to punish us; so as not needing executioners for the satisfaction thereof, it findes enough in our selves to revenge itselfe of us.

The sicknesses wherewith we are afflicted; u 1.55 arise from the mix∣ture of the Elements; though the seasons were not unseasonable, and though the heavens should have no bad influences, we should not cease to suffer; our bodily temper suffers for the irregularity of our soules; and there are some evils turned into nature; insomuch as we cannot live without them; Thirst is as usuall as hunger, this malady, though it be violent, ceaseth not to be naturall; those who are never troubled therewithall, passe either for Angels, or for Monsters; History ranks it in the number of Prodigies; and men are more astonished to see a man that did never drink, than to see a man that did never laugh: yet this so common punishment is so cruell, as in five or six days it destroys the strongest men, and makes the most couragious accept of dishonourable conditions. Pla∣ces which can defend themselves against force, cannot defend them∣selves against thirst; and the fire which consumes the entrails, is of more efficacy, than that which blows up walls and bulwarks. Wat∣ching is not much lesse unsupportable than thirst. Tyrants have put malefactors to death by keeping them from sleep. Man must have re∣course to sleep to refresh himselfe, and must seek to preserve his life in the image of death. If he neglect this remedy, he languish∣eth away, and his very soule which delights in motion, hath need of this rest, to re-assume it's vigour. But all these evills are but pa∣stimes or sports, in comparison of these which are occasioned by our debaucheries. The stone and gout are punishments which may almost vye with those of the damned, they sieze on the most sen∣sible parts of the body; had they not their intermissions they would cast men into despair; and to free themselves from it, the lawes

of the Ancients ought to be revived; which permitted the mi∣serable to die.

All the parts of the body hath maladies which assail them; there is not any one which hath not some peculiar torments. The eye which is one of the least, though not of least importancy, is subject to a∣bove an hundred severall diseases; the nerves which give them mo∣tion, and through which they receive light, are as capable of ob∣struction, as those by which the armes and legs are moved; the smaller they be, the more susceptible they are of pain, and by how much the parts of the body are the most noble; they seem to be the more painfull. The least hurt in the heart is mortall; and the throne wherein the soule resides is so fraile, as a very vapour is capable to crack it. In fine, the best Physician, who knew not that a man was sinfull, wondred he should be so miserable; and considering his mi∣series, confest he was wholly a disease. x 1.56 The soule, which is the bo∣dies guest, is also it's executioner; the ones agitations trouble the others humours; great men have little health, the great designes which purchases them so much glory, leaves them but little quiet. Violent agitations alter the constitutions more than the countenance, more men dye of anger and griefe, than by the hands of the hang∣man; lovers, and ambitious men are always in a Fever: the fire which inflames them, consumes them; and the Physician who deals with their body cannot cure their sicknesse, till Philosophy which guides their mindes hath allayed their passions. The soules delights are the bodies punishments, and the same meditation which enligh∣tens the understanding, and heats the will, disorders the temper, and alters the constitution; thus the whole life of man, is nothing but a vexatious sicknesse, his noblest operations serve him for punishments, and he cannot purchase knowledge but by the losse of his health.

If the maladies be vexatious, the remedies are not more pleasing. Physick teacheth, that the remedies which she furnisheth us withall, are but prepared venomes; she cannot drive out sicknesses, but by poisons; and to cure those that are sick, she must seek for Antidotes in the bowels of vipers. She is so unfortunate in her cures, as she cannot assaile the disease, without hurting the party diseased; nor can she strengthen the diseased party without augmenting the dis∣ease. These two maximes which divide the school of physick, are are equally dangerous: for be it that you will drive away the disease

by it's contrary, or that you will cure nature by it's like, you must either weaken the sick party y 1.57 whil'st you think to destroy his dis∣ease, or else increase the disease, whil'st you strengthen the party that is sick: so as the remedies are as dangerous as displeasing; and we hazard our life as oft as we endeavour to recover health. Hence proceeds the aversions which sick people have to physick; hence proceeds the Philosophers invectives, against the fear of death, and the desire of life; which oblige us to endeavour remedies, which are more cruell than the evills which they promise to cure.

For there is the difference between nature and physick; the for∣mer remedies are pleasing, the others nauseous. Viands which satis∣fie our hunger are so conformable to our temperature, as they expell the evill with delight, and repaires the ruine thereof without pain. Wine appeaseth thirst with so much contentment, as that drunkards are delighted in the remedy, and wish to be thirsty, that they may have the contentment of being cured; this sort of drink is so pleasing to them, as not staying till they have need thereof, they seek it out meerly for pleasures sake; and violate the laws of nature, which hath made it pleasing onely because 'tis necessary. Sleep charms our wearinesse with so much of content, as though it be the picture of death, no man doth abhor it: the slothfull ground their felicity thereon and those who do most desire to live, take de∣light in dying oft and long. A man must be sick to have an aversion of these remedies, and either our health is interessed, or our taste depraved, when meat displeaseth us: z 1.58 but physick is so severe in her operations, as she never undertakes to cure us, without offending some of oursenses; all her remedies are torments; if she restore us to health, we must undergoe pain ere we come by it; she hurts us to cure us, nor hath she yet found the receipt how to make her poti∣ons pleasing: the sweetest things in her hands, become either dead or bitter, sugar and honey do distaste us, when prepared by her; and she is so unfortunate in all her designes, as she weakens her reme∣••s when she thinks to make them appear pleasing.

Chyrurgerie, which follows her as her handmaid; out-bids her Mistresse for cruelty; Tyrants are not so cruell as, her officers; she hath more instruments to afflict the sick withall, than hang-men have to torment the guilty: a 1.59 all her cures are effected by fire and iron; she widens wounds to close them, she cuts off some members, to

save the rest of the body; she draws the stone out of the bladder, with such torture, as seems to equall that of the damned; and she is either so cruell, or so unfortunate, as she cannot make men whole, without making them Martyrs; a life accompanied with so much pain, cannot be very pleasing; health so dearly bought, cannot be much delightfull; and a man must be stupid, if he do not equally apprehend the malady, and the cure. b 1.60 We see nothing in the world which ought not to cause horrour in us. The simples in our gardens call to minde our sicknesses, the fairest of our flowers teach us that we either are sick, or may be; those drugs which we fetch from the furthest Indics, are proofes of our infirmities; our Ancestors world will not suffice to cure us, we must seek for a new world to find new remedies in; and if the desire of glory make the ambitious passe over unknown seas; the desires of health make the sick discover forreign Countries. Who will not confesse that man is sufficiently sinfull, since there is no part of his body which is not threatned with sundry. maladies; and who will not confesse that he is very unfor∣tunate, since all his remedies are punishments, and that he cannot buy his health, but by the losse of pleasure.

'Tis true, that if we more value Gods glory, then our own inter∣est, we shall finde contentment in our pain; for his justice is satisfied by our sicknesse, his power appears in our infirmities, and his mercies are seen in our recoveries. He invents evills to punish the guilty, c 1.61 he imployes our sicknesse to expiate our sins, he makes as good use of a fever as of death to convert us, & he beats down the pride of Monarchs with punishments, which taking their name from their weaknesse, are called infirmities. His power was admired in Egypt, when he made use of little flies to overcome Pharaohs obstinacy; men were astonished to see these small animalls set upon the souldiers of this great Prince, that they wounded them deeply with weak weapons, and that by their little Trunks (more powerfull in the hand of God, than those of Elephants) they brought all that Monarches sub∣jects to despair; they were surprized when grashoppers made up a body of an Army in his State; when they spread themselves overall his Provinces, when they laid all his grounds waste, eat up the eares of corn, and left a fearfull so litarinesse, which threatned the whole Kingdom with an universall Famine. Men wondred when the frogs forsaking their marish grounds, entred Towns, and houses; broke

through the Corps du-Guards, threw themselves into Pharaohs Pa∣lace, and passing even to his private Closet, whereunto he had with∣drawn himself, did in their croking voice upbraid unto him his pride and infidelity. But this so mighty miracle comes short of that which Divine Justice shews in the sicknesses of the earthly Monarches, grashoppers are not so dreadfull in his hands, as are fevers and contagious diseases; and if he appeared adorable when he revenged himself upon his enemies by flyes and frogs, he is no lesse the same when he stings the nerves by the Gout; When by a grain of sand he stops the uritaries; or, when by a vapour which assailes the brains he puts a period to the designes of the greatest Princes of the world. Grashoppers are the works of his hands, he imploys the beautifullest of all constellations to form them, and he gives them meadows to walk in, and disport themselves, but sicknesses are the daughters of sin, and mothers of death. Being the spring of Rebellion, they ought not render obedience to God; and not being the workmanship of his Power, they ought not to serve his justice; yet he imployes them to punish the Rebels of his Kingdom; he useth them as State Policies, and not making use of fire or water, he commands the Fever or the Goute, to set upon Princes in their Pallaces, to mow down their Subjects, and to turn the most populous Towns, into dread∣full desarts; if these faithfull Officers doe sometime serve his Ju∣stice; they are also sometimes d 1.62 serviceable to his mercy; for sick∣nesses do losen us from the earth, they bereave us of the use of pleasure, and taking from us the power of doing ill, they make us forgo the desire thereof; they change the love we bear unto our body into a holy aversion, they ruin sin whereof they are the ef∣fects, and rendring obedience to Gods designs, they cure the man, by hurting the Malefactour.

The sixth Discourse.

That the bodies beauty is become perishable and criminall.

A Man must be blinde if he value not beauty; her advantages are so visible, as she is, sure to have the better if her judges have eyes; Beauty is the first perfection which is seen in any one, and which steals away the heart of the beholders. She doth so powerfull forestall the understanding, as we cannot harbour an ill opinion of a handsome personage; and since we are perswaded that the works of Nature are perfect, we are apt to beleeve, that she hath inclosed a fair Soul in a handsome body. e 1.63 Tis therefore that the Platonicks terme beauty the luster of Goodnesse, and will have her to be the visible Image of an invisible perfection; she hath such power over humane Judgement, as good fortune cannot be expected where there is no handsomenesse. Angels finde their contentment in beholding the beauty of God. Devils think themselves onely unfortunate for having lost the hope of enjoying it, and though it be the cause of their torments, yet is the object of their desires. This perfection ravisheth the will so readily, as the sight of her is sufficient to make her be beloved, she oft-times changeth hatred in∣to love, and to make her power appear, she delights to make her Enemies her Lovers. We have heard of a daughter that fell in love with him that murthered her Father: the handsome comportment of this Prince blotted all hatred out of her heart, and the beauty which appeared in his countenance forced her to love him, whom by nature and reason she was bound to hate. f 1.64 Barbarians bear respect unto her, fair personage•• pass amongst them as deities, and the lovers of beauty were the first Idolaters.

The command which she exerciseth over men is so powerfull, and so pleasing, as they are pleased with the losse of their liberty, and contrary to the humour of slaves, they love their Irons, and cherish their prisons: could Kings use this art to make themselues be obeyed, they should never know what revolts were, and all their

subjects being their well-wishers, they would be absolute without vi∣olence, rich without imposts, and sa••e without Citadels. Thus when the Sonne of God would reign amongst men, he wonne their hearts rather by his comlinesse then by his power, and he used clemency oftner g 1.65 then justice to reduce his Enemies to their duty, conse∣crated beauty in his person, when he took our Nature upon him; though he assumed the pain of sin, he would not assume the ugli∣nesse thereof, and as there was no ignorance in his soul, so was there no deformity in his body. There was but one Heretique who mis-in∣terpreting the words h 1.66 of a Prophet imagined that Jesus Christ was deformed, but tradition upheld by reason, teacheth us that he was beautifull without art, that the Holy Ghost who formed his body in the Virgins womb would have it adorned with comlinesse, i 1.67 and that nothing might be wanting to his workmanship, he exceeded men in this advantage, as well as in all others. His very Types in the old testament were all comely. Solomon and David, the one of which represented his victories, the other his Triumphs, were both of them famous for their beauty; Nature seemed as if she would picture forth in them the Messias, to satisfie the just desires of those who could not see him. The Angels took upon them his visage when they treated with the Prophets; whilest they spoke in his name they would appeare in his form, Abraham saw him in that Glory, wherein he appeared on Mount Tabor, and numbred this vi∣sion amongst the chiefest favours he had received from Heaven. Iacob had the honour to see him in the person of that Angell which wrestled with him, before the break of day; k 1.68 the three Children which were thrown into the fiery furnace, saw him amidst the flames; his presence freed them from fear, they found paradise in the picture of Hell; and that Angell which bore the visage of Jesus Christ, broke their Irons in pieces, preserved their vestures, and pu∣nished their Enemies. In fine, Jesus Christ lost not his lovelinesse till he lost his life, the Luster of his countenance was not effaced, till by buffetting, his face grew not pale, till by stripes, and he lost not that Majesty which infused respect into his Enemies, till the bloud which distild from his wounds had made him an object of compassion and horrour.

In fine, beauty is so amiable, as her enemy is odious; all the Mon∣sters whereby the world receives dishonour, are composed of ugli∣nesse:

'Tis an effect of sin, which corrupts the workmanship of God, had there been no ^l * 1.69 sinner, there had been no deformed Creature. Grace and beauty were inseparable in the estate of originall righte∣ousnesse. Nothing was seen in the Terrestiall paradise which offen∣ded the eies; all things were pleasing there, because all things there were innocent. There was no deformity known in the world till af∣ter sin; Il-favourednesse is the daughter and the picture of sin, and 'tis a piece of injustice to hate the copy, and to love the originall.

Albeit these reasons oblige us to reverence beauty where accom∣panied with Innocency, yet have we as much and as just cause to fear her, since she is mingled with impurity, For sin hath left no∣thing in nature uncorrupted; this Monster is pleased in setting up∣on the most Glorious works of nature, and knowing that their chiefest ornament lay in their beauty, hath pickt out her more per∣ticularly to discharge it's fury upon. There are none of nature works now, which have not some notable defaults. Did not love make men blind he could never make them in love; did he not hide from them their imperfections whom they love, he should not see so many souldiers fight under his colours; and had he not taught women the secret how to imbellish themselves, Impurity would have long since been banisht from off the earth. The famousest beau∣ties have their blemishes, those who are not blind observe their de∣fects; had Helen of Greece lived in these our dayes, the Poet who put such an esteem upon her, would be found to be a lyer and a blind man, but say that Nature should make a Master-piece indeed, and that Paridoras fable, should prove a true story, her beauty would notwithstanding be contemptible, since she could not grow old and keep it, this advantage is so frail, as it cannot long continue, it is so soon gone, as it rather seems a dream then a truth; let women take what care they please to preserve it, it will vanish from of their fa∣ces, and when they shall see themselves in a glasse, they will have much ado to perswade themselves that ever they were m 1.70 handsome. All accidents have some power over beauty; Time is as well her murtherer, as her producer, it effaceth all her glory, tarnisheth her roses and Lillies, and doth so alter the Godliest workmanship of na∣ture, as it maketh horrour and compassion arise in the same hearts, which it had struck with love and envy. n 1.71 'Tis not death but old age which triumphs over this perfection in women: if they grow old

they are sure to grow ugly, n 1.72 the prolongation of their life diminish∣eth their beauty, and they cannot live long, but they must see that die which they loved dearer than their lives: In the state of in∣nocency, old age would not have injured beauty, the food which repaired nature, maintained the good liking thereof, men lived long, and grew not old: as death did not put a period to life, nei∣ther did oldage weaken it; the body was as strong at a hundred year old, as at forty. Beauty was then somwhat durable, time bore respect to this quality, and divine Justice which found no faults to punish, did not punish women with the fear of old age, or hard-favou∣rednesse; But now this fear is part of their punishment, they are compelled to wish to die young, if they will not dye ugly; and thus divided in their apprehensions, they desire to live, yet fear to grow old.

o 1.73 Time is not beauties onely enemy, the injuries which accom∣pany it wage war against her, and all the evils which we suffer through sin, assaile this fraile perfection. The mil-dew causeth de∣fluxions which are prejudiciall to her, the unseasonablenesse of seasons are averse unto her; cold chils her, and keeping back the bloud defaceth the vivacity of her complexion; heat doth sun∣burn her, and that constellation which makes lillies white, darkens the countenances of women. Sicknesses do not so soon alter the temper, as they do the tincture; and the out-rages which they com∣mit upon the welfare, or good liking of the body, are harder to be repaired, than those which they commit upon the constitution; whole mouthes are required to their reparation, after ^p * 1.74 the fever hath left them; the colour in the cheek is not so soon re-gained as health. And women as if they did prefer pleasure before profit, are sorry to see themselves sooner well, than fair; nothing can con∣solate them for the losse of a thing held so precious, but the know∣ledge that it was natures pleasure it should not be permanent. For her rarest workmanships are of least durance; there is no beauty constant save that of the stars, and yet they may complain, that the cloudes darken them by night, and the sun by day.

The rain-bow is the most beautifull of all Meteors, it shames the Art of painting, be it either for lustre, or for the mixture of co∣lours; it's figure is so perfect, as the compasse cannot imitate it, the greatnesse thereof is so vast, as it incompasseth halfe the world;

the waters whereof it is composed nourish hope in the husband∣man, it causeth fruitfulnesse in fields, and warns men to shun the storms which it threatens. 'Tis a pledge of the peace which heaven hath made with earth; and though it presage rain to men in gene∣rall, yet doth it assure the faithfull, that the world shall never be drowned again; yet so rare a marvaile lasts but a few moments. One and the same hour sees the beginning and the end thereof; & the Sun seems to have made it, only to please itselfe in the un-ma∣king thereof. q 1.75 The rose amongst flowers is like the rain-bow a∣mongst Meteors, her vermillion out-vies all the beauty of the world. Her odour, naturally as it is, disputes for precedency with the most pleasing perfumes that Art can compose; the placing of her leaves, puts painters, who would imitate her, to their wits ends; yet too boot that she is environed with prickles, and that she seems to share more in the curse of the earth, than other flowers, her life lasts but for a few days; the Sun which gave her life, gives her death, and that fire which enlivens her purple, is extinguished, as soon as lighted. Neither is the beauty of women of long durance, that lustre which bewitcheth men is lost in a few years, and they are unjust in wishing that men should be constant in their love, since the object which gives it birth is so subject to alteration.

But this fault in beauty were excusable, since it cures the malady which it caused, were it not accompanied with another which can admit of no excuse, neither deserves any pardon. r 1.76 For beauty is become an enemy to chastity; and since the soule and body are at ods, these two qualities have much adoe to agree. Fair women are seldome chaste; nature, since corrupted, is turned hypocrite; beau∣ty is no longer a mark of goodnesse; she forgoes the soule as soon as she appears upon the body; and as if perfection were no longer to be found upon earth; a woman ceaseth oft-times to be chaste, when she begins to be lovely. s 1.77 That Father in Ovid did witnesse this very well, who being desired by his daughter, that he would give her leave to consecrate her virginity to Diana, reply'd, that her beau∣ty gain-said her designe; that she was too fair to be chaste, and that though she should have resolution enough to keep her vow, she had too many lovers to preserve her chastity: 'tis very hard for a wo∣man who delights in causing love in others, not to share therein her selfe; and that a woman of an excellent beauty should be ice, since

she gives fire to so many flames; she cannot resolve to hate all those that love her, she cannot be perswaded, that those who honour her should undoe her; what advise soever her directour gives her, she cannot believe that those who are her slaves, should be her enemies; nor that those that praise her beauty, would wound her honour. She thinks that beauty of no power, which hath no Martyrs, she be∣lieves she cannot judge of her own charmes, but by her servants sighes; that she is ignorant of her own conquests, if she learn them not from their mouthes; and that there is yet somwhat wanting to her Triumph, if those who have experience of her cruelty, do not implore her mercy: Flattered by these false perswasions, she exposeth her selfe to danger, and out of hope of obtaining new victories, she engageth her selfe in fresh combates; if she be not seduced by vanity, she is misled by pitty; and believes that those who behave themselves so handsomly in their complaints, suffer reall pains; compassion makes her throw open the doores to love, and under pretence of easing anothers malady, she forgets her du∣ty, and betrayes her honour.

If she preserves her chastity amidst so many rocks, which threa∣ten her shipwrack, t 1.78 she runs great hazard of loosing her humility; her lovers Panegyricks make her think better of her selfe, and those praises which men rob God of to give her, perswade her that she is somwhat of divine. Those who cannot corrupt her by their idle discourse, seduce her by their adorations; not being able to make her unchaste, they make her proud; not being able to bereave her of her chastity, they take from her her modesty; and bring her into a sad condition, wherein pride is as it were necessary to her for defence of her honesty. She likes not of common homage, she thinks her selfe injured if men use not blasphemy to heighten her beauty; and unlesse upon cold bloud men say what enamour'd Poets use to do in raptures, she thinks her selfe slighted; her lovers ex∣travagancies, are her Panegyricks; she thinks not that they love, unlesse they lose their reason; nor doth she judge their passion to be extream, unlesse they commit a thousand follies. She judges of her power by her injustice, if she doth not engage those who serve her in hard and ridiculous enterprises, she doubts of their fidelity; and because love is a kind of madnesse, she will have all her lovers to be either mad, or out of their wits. 'Tis not enough for a man

to lose his liberty in her service u 1.79 unlesse he lose his judgment also, more cruell then Tyrants, and more absolute then Kings, she will have her slaves to be her Martyrs, that they kisse their fetters, love their sufferings, and listen with respect to their doom of death. Thus Pride springs from beauty, fair women grow proud, and their in∣solence grows to that height, as to ravish men from God; to com∣mit that execrable attempt on earth, which Lucifer did in Heaven, and to make all creatures adore rhem.

The first Christian women, who very well knew the misfortune which accompanied this advantage, did gallantly despise it, they were ashamed to be handsome, they neglected what our women so much value, they thought it a fault, to heighten a perfection, which produceth lewd desires; the purest amongst them wisht that old age might free them of this domestick enemy, the most zealous did set upon it in the flower of their youth, and revenged themselves upon their own countenances, for the unchast thoughts which they without design had caused: they never appeared in publick unvailed, they x 1.80 sentenced themselves not to see, that they might not be seen, very well knowing that these two faults proceed from the same principle. They would not cause love for fear of receiving it; they were so scrupnlous, as they thought their chastity blemisht by mens eyes; that as fruits lose their verdure if once toucht, a woman lost her chastity if once seen; and that since adultery begins by the eyes, sight was as much to be shun'd as touching they remembred, that their beauty was cause of scandall in Heaven, and interpreting the Scripture according to the letter, they feared to cause love in men, since they imagined their mothers had done the like in Angels. In y 1.81 fine, these chast women did sufficiently witnes by their negli∣gence, how much they undervalued their beauty, for sackcloth was their habit, ashes the powder with which they perfumed their heads; the white of innocency, and red of shamefac'tnesse, was the paint they used, modesty did give life to all their actions; and thus ador∣ned they had Jesus Christ for their lover.

If the example of these famous women cannot reform the disor∣der of those of our age, yet ought they at least to think, that beauty is no lesse dangerous to those that possesse it, than to those that covet it, that it is exposed to temptations, and environed with scandals, that if it be not the cause of sin, it is the occasion thereof, and that if

it do not form bad desires, it is at least unfortunate in causing them. This effect is so ordinary to beauty, as the Fathers of the Church make z 1.82 the contrary pass for a miracle, for if the comlinesse of the Virgine Mary infused good thoughts, if her countenance inspired chast desires, and if her eyes the tears whereof did propagate our souls health, did raise mens souls to God; t'was rather an effect of Grace then of Nature, and as her Innocency was a priviledge where∣with the heavens would honour her purity, the sense of piety which she inspired into mens hearts, was a favour wherewith they would advantage her beauty. Other saints did not deserve to obtein so much, though nothing was so precious to them as their chastity, they perceived nevertheless, that their countenances caused some∣times unchast thoughts, that flames i••hued from their eyes, which against their wils set mens hearts on fire, and that though their bo∣dies were consecrated to Jesus Christ, yet did they not cease to be pleasing in the eyes of his enemies. Therefore did they revenge the faults of others upon themselves, they sentenced their mouth to moanes, their eyes to tears, and their heart to sighs; a 1.83 they did pe∣nance for a sin which they never committed; and to the end that Gods justice might be satisfied they punished the innocent for the guilty, some of them were so generous, as they pul'd out their own eyes not being able to resolve to keep one part of their body, which without their consent had been cause of unchastity.

If the beauty of unpolluted souls be so dangerous, we must not wonder, if the like in lost women be so pernitious, and that the Devil makes use thereof to corrupt the mightiest men. For women is a fa∣tall Instrument in the Devils hands, he is never more to be feared then when assisted by this fatall second. If he undid Adam by Eves cunning, if he made so many wounds with one blow, and if by one single combat he got so many victories, 'twas because our first mo∣ther held Intelligence with him, if he cannot tire out Iob's b 1.84 patience by the losse of his goods, and his children, he hath recourse to his wife, speaking through her mouth, he endevours to make him des∣pair, and to perswade him under pretence of compassion, to end his unhappy life by an honourable death, but of all women the hand∣somest are properest for his designs: and when a singular beauty serves him for Organ, or Interpreter, he is almost sure to over∣come those he assails. By Dalila's charms he triumphed over Samp∣sons

^c * 1.85 strength by the allurements of Bathsheba he engaged David in adultery, and in murther: by the idle discourse of a handsome stranger, he perswaded the wisest of all Kings, to offer up incense to the workmanship of his hands; he rob'd him of his wisdome by depriving him of his continency, and to execute so great a designe, he onely used the countenance of a Pagan Princesse.

But he never appeared more powerfull then when he set upon the whole Army of the Israelites, and when in a moment he made it unchaste, and idolatrous. This wicked spirit, had to no purpose armed the Midianites against the Iews; all their endeavours proved vain, though their numbers were greater, and their souldiers better warriours, they were ever either repulst or beaten; the very names of Israelites wan battells, the glittering of their Arms routed their enemies, and the Elements anticipating the valour of these Conque∣rours, did most commonly begin the battell. So many bad suc∣cesses made the Devill have recourse to his old tricks. He com∣manded his partners by the mouth of a faithless Prophet, to set upon those with women, whom he could not overcome by men; and to make use of beauty where strength was bootlesse. Obeying this his counsell, they placed before their Battalions a troop of loose wo∣men, who carrying looking glasses, and Idols in their hands, invi∣ted the Israelites at one and the same time, to lose their conti∣nence, and to forgoe their religion. This wile was of so great pow∣er, that the Army in whose favour the heavens had done so many miracles, doth adore these women, and their idols; they forget their duty, to obey their love; and renounce their faith to satisfie their lust.

He still useth the same cunning, he corrupts Christians, as he did the Israelites, and the beauty of women is the smallest temptati∣on, wherewith he astonisht the courage of men. A handsome wo∣man is the Courts plague; after she hath once resolved to bereave hearts, and to have servants, she purchaseth as many subjects to the devill, as she deprives Christ Jesus off. After once she hath re∣solved to hazard the reputation of an honest woman, to purchase the name of a stately dame; she turnes to be a false Diety to which all unchaste people offer incense, an Idoll, which makes more I∣dolatours, than impiety makes Libertines; a contagion which be∣ing taken in by all the senses, sweeps away more men than the plague

doth, consuming fire which heats whatsoever it comes nigh, and burns all that it toucheth, a Monster, f 1.86 which being the more dange∣rous by how much the more pleasing, scatters abroad impurity wheresoever it passeth, and which commit murthers, and adulteries by all the parts of it's body. Her looks undo men, the flames which proceed from her eyes reduce soules to ashes, her words bewitch those that hear them, she inthrals the heart by the ears, and whoso∣ever doth not use Ulysses his harmles cunning indangers the losse of liberty. Her hair is a net wherein Lyons and Tygers are taken, her strength like that of Sampson, lies in her weaknesse, she imployes onely these weak arms to overcome the couragious, and makes use onely of these small threads to stop the course of the most uncon∣stant. The lillies when on her face, lose their purity, and the inno∣cent rose becomes guilty upon her cheeks: and as the spider makes her poyson of the best things, she composeth the venome where∣with she infects souls, of the fairest flowers. Modesty and Majesty, which else where defend vertue, do corrupt it in the person of a handsome woman; and these two advantages which makes her beauty the more powerfull make it also the more dangerous; her very gate is not without affectation and fault, her studied steps have a certain becomingness which is fatall to those that behold them; each pace steals a heart from some of her servants, and doing no∣thing without design, she either wounds or kils those indiscreet ones which approach her.

In fine, beauty is so pernicious, as God himself who extracts Grace from sin, makes use thereof onely to punish his Enemies, it is more dreadfull in his hands then thunder, and he hath tane more venge∣ance by womens allurements, then by the arms of souldiers. He ru∣in'd Hamans fortunes by Hesters countenance, the gracefull demea∣nor which he indued her withall, made Ahasuerus condemn his Favorite, and the death of this insolent enemy of the Iews is not so much an effect of Mordecais wisedom, as of his Nieces beauty. God chose out a widow to slay Holofernes, he obteined two victories o∣ver this Conqueror by the means of one onely woman; he took his heart from him by her eyes, and his head by her hands; he made first use of her beauty, then of her courage, and would have the Assyrians defeat to begin by love and end by murther. Thus are handsome women the Ministers of Gods fury, he imploys Hesters

and Iudeths as souldiers to revenge his quarrels, and beauty which causeth impurity doth oft-times punish it.

We see no faults in the creature from whence God draws not some advantage; our weaknesse is the cause of our penitency, if we cannot alter, we cannot repent; and if we had the constancy of An∣gels, we might have the opiniatricy of Devils. Our offences serve to humble us, and the proudest spirits cannot think upon their sins without confusion. Concupiscence, which is one of the originals of our disorders is one of the foundations of Grace: Adams sin fastens us to Jesus Christ, and the miseries which we suffer under, make us have recourse to divine Mercy. e 1.87 But beauty seems onely proper to seduce sinners; if she be not serviceable to Gods justice, she is ser∣viceable to the Devils malice; and causeth Murthers, when she can∣not produce Adulteries. Of all the perfections of man, this is the onely one which Jesus Christ would not imploy to save souls. He imployed the eloquence of Orators to perswade Infidels, he made use of the doctrine of Philosophers to convince the ignorant, he u∣seth the power of Kings to reduce rebels, and he imployes the wise∣dome of Politicians to govern states, but he rejects beauty, and judging her to hold Intelligence with his enemy, he never makes use thereof, but to undo sinners. The beauty of those Virgins which were consecrated to him converted no Infidels, the innocent allure∣ments of the Lucia's and Agneses were of no use to the establish∣ment of our Religion; there modest countenances forbore not to kindle impure flames, and if their executioners were toucht to see their constancy, their beauty set Tyrants hearts on fire.

Gods beauty is then that which can onely securely beloved, tis that, that we ought to sigh, all other desires are unjust. Whosoever betakes himself to the beauty of Creatures, revives idolatry, erect∣ing an Altar in his heart, he offers Sacrifice to the chief Diety which he adores, where he himself is both the Priest, and Sacrifice. The beauty of the creature ought not to be looked upon otherwise then as that of a picture which we value, either for the persons sake whom it represents, or for the painters hand that drew it. He who exceeds these bounds Commits ungodlinesse, and who doth not elevate his love to the first and chiefest beauty, of which all others are but weak copies, is either ignorant or impious. If the beauty of the first An∣gel have made Apostates, and if the love which it occasioned in the

hearts of those pure spirits, made them idolators what may we ex∣pect from a beauty which being engaged in the flesh, and in sin pro∣duceth onely wicked desires. Those who have fallen f 1.88 into this disorder must repent themselves with Saint Austin. To repair their outrages done to th beauty of God, by their infidelity, they must afflict themselves for having so late known him? And to make a∣mends for their losse of time, and losse of love, they must labour to love him with more fervencie, and to serve him with more con∣stancie.

The seventh Discourse.

That the life of man is short and miserable.

TIs strange, yet true, g 1.89 that man having changed his condition hath not changed his desires, and that he wisheth the same thing in his state of sin, as he did in his innocency. For that strong passion which he had for glo∣ry, is but the remainder of that just desire which he had to command over all creatures; his indeavouring to enlarge the bounds of his Empire tends onely to recover what he possessed before his revolt; the pleasure which he seeks after in all his pastimes, is grounded upon the remembrance of his former felicity. Those ri∣ches which he accumulates with so much labour, and preserves with so much care, witnesse his sorrow for being fallen from his aboun∣dance, and the extream desire which he hath to prolong his life, is a testimony that he as yet aspires after immortallity. Yet hath not life those Charms which made it so amiable, the longest is but short the sweetest but full of troubles, and the most assured uncertain and doubtfull. For since the soul ceased to be upon good tearms with God, the body ceased to correspond fairly with the Soul. Though they go to the composure of the same Integrall, they cannot indure one another, their love is mixt with hatred, and these two lovers have alwayes somewhat of 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which makes them not agree. The cords wherewith they are joyned together are so weakened, as the least accident is sufficient to break them; that whereof man is composed may destroy him; the very things without the which he

cannot live, make him die, rest and labour are equally prejudiciall to him: his temper is altered by watching and by sleep, when either are immoderate, the nourishment which susteines him, suffocates him, and he fears abundance as much as want; his soul seems as if she were borrowed, h 1.90 and that she is onely deteined in his body by art: The least accidents do sever her from it; a vapour doth suffocate her; she is choaked with a little flegme, and blood, which is the seat of life, is oft-time the cause of death; whithersoever so miserable a creature doth convey himself, she receives there new proofs of his weaknesse; the change of climates troubles his health, a new air incommodiates him, cold water hurts his stomake, the Sun which lights him, scorcheth him▪ and whatsoever is cause of good unto him, is cause of Evil.

In the State of innocencie grace linkt the Soul to the body; death unseconded by sin could not break the chains; the elements durst not assail him, originall righteousnesse made them observe re∣spect, they appeased their differences, lest they might trouble mans temper; fire agreed with water to preserve his health, & there was as profound a peace in his person as in his state, but since he fore∣went his duty, grace abandoned his body to sin, the elements had liberty given them to war one upon another, man became the scene of their combates, and after once he revolted from God, he saw all creatures take up arms against him, i 1.91 sorrow & death set upon him, he was sentenced to live in pain, & die in sorrow. For the sweetest life bears it's punishment with it. There is no rose which is not graf∣ted upon a thousand thornes, and how handsome soever the chains be which link the soule and body together, they are both of them equally exposed to suffering.

The soule is more capable of sadnesse, than of joy; though she display her selfe to receive in pleasure, yet doth she never taste it purely; she weeps amidst her contentments, she expresseth her joy by sighs, and as if she were not accustomed to great happinesses, she seems to suffer when she receives them. Though she shut the doore upon sorrow, yet suffers she her selfe to be easily siezed on by it; though she resist it, she cannot withstand it; k 1.92 and as if nature had made her more sensible of misery, than of happinesse; a small dis∣pleasure is able to make her forget all her former contentments. The body is not more fortunate than the soule, for it hath not many parts which can tast delight, but it hath not any one which is not ca∣pable

of pain. Pleasures do enter-shock, and always leave some of our senses in languishment or need; pains agree in their assailing us, and though they should not come in a crowd, one alone is sufficient to make it selfe be felt by all the parts of the body; their straight union makes their mischiefes common, and if the head suffer, the tongue complains; the eyes weep, and the heart groanes. Thus the happiest life is miserable, and that moment passeth not wherein we are not inforced to bewail our innocency, & to condemn our sin.

Death comes in to the aid of pain, and by an ingenious peece of cruelty, agrees with life to augment our miserie. For though they appear to be enemies, they joyn in our punishment, and joyn with Gods Justice to revenge God; l 1.93 we live and die daily; the change which makes us subsist, is deaths taster; this cruell one siezeth on us by degrees; all the time we have lived is already gotten by him, and the years which we hope to make use of, are so many titles which he produceth against us. As soon as we begin to live, we begin to die. Death shares with us in all the moments of our life, it takes unto it selfe what is past, because that is certain, and leaves to us only what is to come, because that is uncertain. So as by a strange mis-fortune, the increase of our life is the diminution thereof. The farther we grow from our birth, the nearer we grow to death: our purchases are meer losses, ^m and things are so disposed of since sin, as we cannot count our years without either flattering our selves, or lying.

Tis perhaps for this reason that the Hebrew, (that holy language which the blessed shall make use of in heaven) imployes but one and the same word to expresse both life and death, with the difference of one only point, to teach us, that death and life, are divided onely by that moment which unites them. In effect life is nothing but a brittle chaine consisting of three links, the past, the present, and the fu∣ture; the past, is no more, we retain but a weak remem∣brance of it; all the vows we can make will not fetch it backe; it is not void of doubt, whether Gods absolute power, which finds no resistance amongst his creatures, can ga∣ther together the present with that which is past, and unite these differences of times without destroying their essence. The future time is not as yet, hope which expects it cannot advance it, and wis∣dom which hath an eye unto it, cannot dissipate the obscurity there∣of; it is lesse at our disposall then the time that is past, and for all the vain conjectures which we may flatter our selves withall, we know

not whether it shall come to us, or we shall go to it; the present time, to say truth is in our power, we are masters of it; and it is the onely thing which we can say we possesse, tis the onely part of our life which we are assured of, and who promiseth himself more is ei∣ther ignorant or impious. But this present time is but a moment, and this difference of time hath no parts; time past, & time to come, com∣prehend whole ages, but the present consists but in an instant; so as death and life differ only in a point, & these two which we judge so contrary are intertained by that moment, which doth separate them.

Though I honour this imagination by reason of the gallantry ther∣of, and that respect w^ch I bear to the Hebrew Tongue, obliege me to reverence it, yet me thinks it doth not sufficiently expresse the mise∣ries of life whose alliance with death is neerer then is thereby repre∣sented; death subsists only by life, and life is only preserved by death: they commence & end together, as soon as a man begins to live, he be∣gins to die, nature which very well knows that two moments never subsist together, Commands death to hurry away the one to leave to life the other that ensues. As she doth with moments and houres, so doth she with those years whereof the degrees of our life are com∣posed. m 1.94 She makes our infancie die to give life to our Boyish age; she takes away a childe to substitute a man, and robs us of our youth, to make old age succeede. Thus if we advance in life tis by the fa∣vour of death, and we enjoy our last years by the losse of the for∣mer: who will not praise death, since it makes us live, and who will not blame life since it makes us die? who will not confesse, that sin is very cruell since it accords these two enemies to our undo∣ing? and that for our punishment it hath turned a happy and im∣mortall life, into an unfortunate and perishable one.

If this discourse be thought to be too finely spun, yet can it not n 1.95 be denied, that mans life is shortened since his offence, and if a strong man hath made a shift to tumble in the world a hundred years, he is a wonder to those that see him, History records his name with re∣spect, posterity admires him; and if he passe not for a miracle he doth at least for a prodigie. * 1.96 Every gift of life is so short, as we may easily judge we have divided it onely to deceive our selves. Our infancy endures but seven years; when our tongue gets its liberty, and our understanding is formed, we enter into our Bovish age which is of no longer continuance; it findes its death in our adolescence, and as soon as down appears upon a mans face, he changeth qualitie. This

age which is esteemed the pleasantest of mans life, and which I think the most dangerous, lasts no longer than doth his Boyish-age, it ends when youth begins, which lasts somewhat longer than the o∣ther parts of life which did precede it, it begins at Thirty years of age, and ends not till sixty, old age serves it for a Sepulcher, and when the head is covered with snow, tis time to prepare for death. For this age is shortest of all the rest, if it have any hope, tis ill grounded, and the sicknesses wherewith it is assailed, are so many summons to the grave. If man arrive at that extremity of the age we tearm decrepit, he languisheth in pain, he calls in death to his aide, and the sorrows he suffers makes him think life tedious. o 1.97 But for all this the longest life is but composd of moments, which multipli∣ed by dayes and monthes produce some years; we divide it to make it seem the longer, and perswade our selves that by giving it severall names we adde somewhat to the durance thereof. We imitate the vanity of Princes who divide the earth to aggrandise it; and part it into provinces to satisfie their ambition. Mathematitians teach us, that the earth compared to the heavens is but a point, they ground their operation upon this maxime, and that art which teacheth us to measure hours by the Sun-diall, draws her certainty from this truth. Yet Princes divide this point into kingdoms; they thinke to extend the whole by multiplying the parts thereof, and that they do inlarge the world by dividing it into Provinces, but let their ambi∣tion do its utmost, let it make fights by Sea and land, let it cover the one with Houses the other with Ships, they dispute but for a point a p••nctum; and this place which they have chosen for the Theatre of their vain glory, and the Subject of their differences is but an indivisible atome. The bounders which we prescribe to kingdoms, are as well the proofs of our weaknesse as of our pride. p 1.98 The Alpes and Pyrenean mountains which part France from Italy, and Spain, are lines which nature hath drawn upon the earth to di∣vide it, not to aggrandise or inlarge it; the Seas which seem to us vast, and the Rivers which we think so deep are lesse considerable in the world, then the veines are in the bodie; and whatsoever it be that feeds the vain glory of Conquerours, it is not so great as the least of those Stars which appear to us to be so little. q 1.99 If pismires had as much understanding as men, they would give as specious n••mes to their little caverns, since they have a shadow of policie, they would divide their States into provinces; and by an Ambition

equall to ours, they would frame a little world, of a foot of earth; what Monarchs make of the world, men make the like of life; they distinguish the ages thereof to flatter themselves, they thinke to keep off death, by extending life, and that they have a great way to go, when they have yet to passe through their adolescence, and their old age. They consider not, that the longest life is equall to the shortest, if it be compared to eternity; and that the condition of children is no better then that of old men, if it be compared with the worlds lasting. The time we live is almost nothing, and Nature hath left us but a moment to merit eternity; we can adde nothing thereunto by all our cunning, but as if we were more ingenious to work our selves evil then good, we have a thousand ways to shorten it, and the longest life becomes short through the bad use, we make thereof. We are prodigall of time, and greedy of good: We think we give nothing to our friends when we give them whole daies, and we consider not that we advance death by consuming our time. We heap up riches and scatter abroad s 1.100 years, we are streight handed in things, the profession whereof is praise worthy, and prodigall of those whereof the avarice is laudable. The time which we have lived for our selves makes the least part of our life, and when we shall have at∣teined to sixty years of age, tis found that we have lost more then the half of it. If we will cut off what time we have allowed to com∣pany keeping, what we have employed in visits, what consumed in pastimes, and what employed in other mens affairs, we shall finde the number of our years to be much fewer then we account them to be.

Nature, All whose examples are instructions, teacheth us to hus∣band our time well▪ she is rather prodigall then liberall of her fa∣vours; she hath sewed the stars confusedly in the firmament, and though they be the most beautifull parts of the Universe, she would not have them to own their worth for their raritie. Rivers flow pro∣fusively, their spring heads are not dried up, and though they water never so much ground they grow not dry. The earth is alwayes fertile, there is no part of it which produceth not somewhat, and if you will except rocks which seems to be the bones of this great bo∣dy, her muscles and her veines abound in milk which nourisheth her children. But this mother which is so liberall in her productions, is covetous of time; she gives it us by measure to make us value it the more, she spins it out drop by drop; the parts thereof succeede one

another, and continue not together, she never gives us one moment but she takes another from us; she takes from us what is past when she gives what is present; and she threatens to take the present time from us, when she promiseth us the future. Of all the liberalities which she hath used since the beginning of the world she was never profuse of time, and t 1.101 this her avarice teacheth us that time is the most pretious of all her gifts. Let us learn of so wise a Mistresse to Husband our years, let us by our wisdom prolong our life, and let us not part with so much time for our sports, and our af∣fairs, but that we reserve the greatest part thereof for our well-fare. Thus shall we have no occasion to complain of the shortnesse of our life, and though it be composed but of moments, we shall finde, that if well employd 'twill suffice to purchase eternity.

The eighth Discourse.

That death is the punishment of sin.

OF all the pains which sin hath procured us, death is the most cruell and the most common; all others have their reme∣dies, and self-love teacheth us how to shun them; we by our industry and labour overcome the earths sterility. We fence our selves from the shame of our nakednesse by the means of our clothes; we save our selves from the injury of the aire, and unsea∣sonablenesse of weather by the commodiousnesse of buildings; physick furnisheth us with remedies against sicknesse, and reformeth our temper by the government which it prescribes us; Arts are in∣vented onely to free us from the miseries of life; and the greatest part of Artificers labour onely to fence men from the punishment of sin. But death is a punishment as rigorous, as inevitable; hu∣mane wit hath not yet been able to free man from it. All her care cannot make a man live a hundred years; our first fathers lived longer, and the heavens which would people the earth by their means, prolonged their life to allow them leisure for it: but they died after some hundred years, and the oldest amongst them could not attain to a thousand years.

The rigour of this punishment doth equall it's necessity, for death is deafe to pitty, tears cannot appease it, and whatsoever

causeth either respect or pitty in us, cannot stay the fury thereof. It enters Princes Palaces, t 1.102 as well as shepheards cottages; it knaps in two the Scepters of Kings with as much insolency as the shepherds crook; it keeps no other law than what is prescribed unto it by di∣vine Justice; it siezeth on the son before the father, the daughter before the mother; sets upon Infants in the cradle, or Monarchs in their Thrones, and on Judges on their Tribunalls. There is no sanctuary against it's fury, and those who can pardon the condem∣ned cannot obtain the like favour from death. There are many prodigies in the world whereat we wonder, and there is nothing so strange, whereof there hath not been some example which fa∣cilitates our beliefe▪ there be some whole intire Provinces where the Inhabitants li••e so happily, as that they are never troubled with sicknesse; there are some so auspicious Climates, as that in them the plague doth never mow down men, where the ground is not made sterill through ••amine; and whereas thunder never falls upon the guilty head: France cannot nourish Monsters, nor are her houses at any time shaken with earthquakes. Some men are seen to grow old, yet not grow gray; and women who preserve their comelinesse in their age, and lose it not but with losse of life. Italy hath mountains whose entrailes are full of fire, and their heads covered with snow, as if nature took delight in according these two contraries; and by ending their differences to make her power appear. But how fantasticall soever this mother hath pleased to shew her selfe, what ever diversity she hath put in her workman∣ships to delight us, and what ever miracles she hath wrought to astonish us, she could never free man from death. The devill who promised us immortallity to engage us in disobedience, could not make good his word, u 1.103 and the law which bindes us to die, is too generall to admit of any dispensation, or exception. When God himselfe became man, he became mortall, and taking our nature upon him, he would not exempt himselfe from death. All Gods friends have born this punishment; the justest have oft-times lived the shortest life, and death to astonish others hath made examples of them, if some have been rapt up to Paradise, that favour did not be∣reave death of his rights, for after having lived a long time with Angels, they shall descend on earth again to die there with men.

This rigour would be pleasing were it not accompanied with

circumstances which make it unsupportable, but death assumes fearfull shapes to affrighten us, he is not content to part our soules from our bodies, to break in two the chains which did unite them, and to destroy Gods chiefest workmanship, but to satisfie his cruel∣ty, & tire our patience, he assumes a thousand frightfull shapes, x 1.104 and leaves marks of his fury in the persons of the dead which terrifie the living. He appears hideous even in the beautifullest visage that ever was; he shrinks up the nerves, hollows the eyes, defaceth the complexion, alters the lineaments, and turns a miraculous beauty into a dreadfull Monster. Somtimes he burnes the bowels by the scorching heat of a fever, somtimes swels up the body by a long continued dropsie, somtimes he makes an anatomy, or skeleton thereof, by an irksome consumption, somtimes forms strange characters in the lungs or brain, somtimes he covers the face over with an ulcer, and changes the Throne of beauty into the Seat of deformity.

Violent deaths are yet more uncoucht than such as are naturall; they are not to be beheld without terrour, and those who have cou∣rage enough to tolerate the gout or stone, have not constancy enough to endure the torture of fire▪ or rack; 'tis therefore that it is said, that our father Adam knew not the heinousnesse of his sin, till he saw the picture of death in Abels face; the losse of grace, Gods anger, the Angels indignation, his banishment from Paradise, the creatures revolt, the alteration of seasons, warring of Elements, nor yet the insurrection of the body against the soule, were not suf∣ficient to make known unto him the exorbitancy of his sin, nor the injustice of his disobedience: but when he saw his son want moti∣on, his eyes want light, when he heard no words proceed from his mouth, saw no colour in his face, nor felt no motion of his heart, he thought his sin was very great since it deserved so sore a punishment.

To say truth, y 1.105 death is the image of sin, this father makes himselfe seen in his daughter, his uglinesse is seen in his pro∣duction, and there needs no more to acknowledge the misery of a sinner, than to consider the aspect of a dead man. Those pale lips, those sunk eyes, those hollowed cheeks, and that corruption which always accompanies stench, is the shadow of a soule which mortall sin hath bereaved of innocency and grace. All teacheth us that we are criminall, and that the evills which we endure, are as

well the portraitures of our punishments, as of our offences. The rebellion which we meet withall in the Elements, and creatures is the punishment of our disobedience; the irregularity of the sea∣sons is a signe of the disorder of our passions; the blinding of our eyes proves the like in our understanding, and the sicknesses which our bodies suffer under, are the effects of our souls infirmity: but of all the punishments wherewith we are afflicted, death is the onely true copy of sin, and in this copy it is that we must observe the hor∣rour of the originall.

To discover all his rigours, we must examine the terme of our sen∣tence, we must consider what punishments he condemned us unto, and observe with how many evills he threatens us. z 1.106 The first is to die the same day that we have sinned, and to bear the punish∣ment as soon as we have committed the offence. Few are aware of this punishment, and though it be severe enough, we suffer it, with∣out being sensible of it, or complaining; we perswade our selves, that life and death cannot agree in our punishment, and that God himself is not powerfull enough to make two so contrary things serve his justice: but notwithstanding 'tis true, that we die as soon as we are born, that death assailes us as soon as we are surprized by sin, and that we bear Adams punishment as soon as we contract his offence. For death holds so good intelligence with life, as these do equally part our years; we perish for our preservation; as soon as we enter into our boyes estate, we forgoe infancy, we divide every houre of the day between death and life, a 1.107 and we neither conceive the hei∣nousnesse of our fault, nor the greatnesse of our punishment, if we think that that death, which puts an end unto our life, is our onely one, because it is our last. We die every moment, we lose the years which we number; and part of our being glides away with them, we are but halfe our selves; all of us that is past is deaths purchase; and the youth which hath left us is a losse which we cannot repaire. That complexion, the freshnesse whereof was more lively than that of the rose, that whitenesse which sham'd the lilly, that lustre which sparckled in the eyes, that Majesty which appear'd upon the forehead, those pearles which shewed themselves within the currall of the lips, and all those ornaments which nature had united in a handsome face to make thereof her chiefest workmanship; do they not serve for a prey to death, and who hath no longer these advan∣tages

are they not obliged to confesse that they have lost the best part of themselves? the destinies end their work in silence, b 1.108 death gives blows which hurt not, he mingles himselfe so pleasingly with life, as that he is received insensibly, and under hope of living, men take a kinde of pleasure in dying.

The second punishment which our decree bringeth, is that in not expressing what kind of death we shall die, we are obliged to fear all sorts of death. There is nothing more certain than this punish∣ment; neither is there any thing more secret. Every one knows he must die, every day affords us proofs and examples of it; our friends and enemies confirme this truth, no man is so ignorant, or vain-glorious as to doubt it; the sepulchres of Kings are faithfull witnesses thereof, and those heads for which the lives of a whole Nation are exposed, make us see that death spares no body; but the manner thereof is as unknown, as the hour is uncertain. The stars do not shew the particulars thereof, and unlesse the heavens re∣veale it, the devill cannot foretell it to those that serve him; our decree pitcheth not upon any one, that we may stand in fear of all; and after the example of Princes which have ended their lives by deaths, from which their qualities ought to have warranted them, we may justly apprehend all. It may be 'twill be naturall, it may be violent; it may be 'twill sieze on us in war, it may be in peace, it may be 'twill be short and cruell, it may be lesse cruell, but lan∣guishing; the Judge which hath condemned us, hath not been pleased to expresse himselfe therein, to the end, that the fear of death might be a severer punishment unto us, then death it selfe; it may suffice us to know that he is incensed, and that we may justly expect from his just anger whatsoever death our sin deserves. The truth is we can suffer but one; the weaknesse of our constitution doth not permit both the waters to drown us, the fire to burn us, and the wilde beasts to devoure us, but the darknesse of our decree obligeth us to fear all these punishments, c 1.109 and there is no Monarch whose greatnesse can exempt him from so just a fear; the plague hath not so spared our most pious Kings, and the valiantest among them, hath been murthered amidst the triumph which he prepared for his dearest wife. A clap of thunder bruiseth the pride of crown∣ed heads; poison is mingled in their drink, and violent death doth but too oft befall Sovereigns. Who ought then to stand in fear,

when he shall read a decree which threatens every guilty person with a hundred thousand deaths? and who ought not to dread a Judge, who conceals the condition of our punishment, only to make us reverence his power, and have recourse unto his clemency?

The e 1.110 third punishment is not lesse severe then are the rest; for though we know not what sort of death we shall die, yet we know we shall be reduced to ashes, and that divine Justice following us e∣ven into the grave, will war upon us after death; it treateth us like those notorious Malefactours, who finde not the end of their punishment in the end of their lives; they are degraded, to make them lose their honour, their children are prosecuted, to make them lose their posterity; their bodies are burned, that their ashes may be scattered in the winde; their houses are beaten down, to ruinate their workmanship; and nothing is left in any part that did belong unto them, but characters of their faults, and of their Princes an∣ger. Thus doth our supream Judge deal with guilty man; he drives him out of the terrestiall paradise, and banisheth him into the world; he threatens the place of his exile to be totally consumed with fire, for having received this guilty person; he confiscates all his goods, takes from him all the honourable marks of his great∣nesse, and reduceth him to the condition of beasts, who did pre∣tend to the glory of Angels; he makes all his subjects despise his authority, he makes his slaves either Rebels, or Tyrants, and af∣ter so many punishments, he shortens his shamefull life, by some tragicall end. But all these punishments leaving yet some remain∣der of the guilty person, they pursue him into his sepulchre; he commands the worms to devoure him, and what escapes their fury, he reduceth into dust: you shall see dreadfull marks of the exe∣cution * 1.111 of this decree in the stateliest monuments of our Kings, de∣scend into the most magnificent Ma••soleums, you will finde nothing there but ashes: the earth covers the pride of Conquerours, and of all these Monarches greatnesse, wherewith their subjects in their life were astonished, there remaines nothing after death, but a lit∣tle dust.

A man must be a Saint to be exempt from this punishment, God affords not this favour save to those that serve him unworthily; he preserves their bodies in the sepulchre, he guards their precious re∣licks in the bosome of the earth, the waters cannot corrupt them,

nor the flames devour them; being innocent, he will not deal with them as guilty, death spares their body after having separated it from their soul, they seem to rest in their graves, to repose themselves af∣ter their labour, and to expect with joy that dreadfull day which all the guilty do apprehend. Death then is the punishment of our sin, it is the workmanship thereof, we have procured it unto our selves by our disobedience, God hath ordeined it by his justice, and Jesus Christ, who draws good out of our evil, hath made a sacrifice of it for our salvation.

The ninth Discourse.

What advantages we may draw from death, by the means of Grace.

THough death be the first production of sin, and that the malice and deformed lothsomnesse of the Father appear in Sons visage, some Philosophers have gone about to make apologies for death, and after having made use of their reason in the defence thereof, they have imployed their cunning in praising it. Being ignorant of the g 1.112 first mans fault, they would have death to be a law, and not a punishment; they have excused his rigour by his necessity, and have gone about to perswade us, that he was pleasing, because necessary. All things in nature perish, this mother hath brought forth nothing which she hath not sentenced to die, nothing is immortall, and few things durable: fountains grow dry, and their spring-heads are either lost, orstrayed out of the channel; the mountaines give way to the violence of floods, the sea advances and wins upon the earth, whole isles have sunke into the earth, we see lakes now where our Ancestours have seen Towns, and husband∣men plough up fields, where Pilots have steerd their ships; The Change which preserves Nature is a kinde of death; nature subsists onely by alteration, were it not, h 1.113 for change she would utterly pe∣rish; kingdomes (which apprehend nothing like vicissitude) cannot shun it; as oft as they lose their Princes, they hazard the losse of their liberty, they grow jealous of all their neighbours, and ambi∣tion

is so perfidious as their allyes may become their enemies; all those great Colossuses which past for miracles in their age, their subsistance depends now only upon paper; Time hath made them know, that all the workmanship of man is perishable, and that frail hands can build nothing which is eternall. In fine, the world it self is not exempt from death; the deluge wherewith it was drown'd, and the fire wherewith it shall be consumed, teach us that it may pe∣rish; the Stars which never are at a stay, are threatned one day to lose their influences and their light, the same hand which hath seat∣ed them in the firmament, will one day pull them from thence; and though Aristotle imagines the heavens to be incorruptible, Jesus Christ assures us, that they shall perish together with the world. Wherefore then do we complain of death, since he spares not the Stars, and wherefore do we wish, that our houses may never have an end, since the world cannot escape the fall which threatens it.

i 1.114 Death is not so cruell as men imagine, the fear which we have thereof, is rather an effect of opinion then of Nature; if we were lesse wise, we should be more couragious; we augment our evil by thinking too oft of it; the weapons wherewith we indeavour to withstand this enemy serve only to make him the more redoubted; a Philosopher apprehends him more then doth an ignorant person; and all the constancie of the stoicks cannot equall the stupidity of a country clown. These silly people are easily comforted; they look after no priviledges, which their Ancestours have not enjoyed, they prepare for death when they see their friends die; and having no plots which may fasten them to the world, they are not troubled to be interrupted therein by their death. All men seem to conspire to be cause of astonishment to themselves, and that it fares with them, as in the route of an Army, where those that ran away, cause fear in those that fight. Every particular man frames unto himself an Idea of death, and he who can make it appear the most hideous, pas∣seth for the ablest man. Sciences which ought to incourage us, do intimidate us; and there is not any one who doth not adde somwhat to the image of this Monster, to increase his uglinesse and our appre∣hension. Painters represent him as a ghastly skeleton bearing a coffin upon his shoulders, and a sithe in his hands to mow down the whole earth. Poets (whose fictions are more pleasing then those of pain∣ters) do give him arrowes, each of which being shot doth wound a

heart; physicians decipher him as the enemy of nature, and to no end seek for remedies against his wounds. Philosophers who boast * 1.115 that they know him, that they may withstand him, do astonish their disciples by the number of their reasons, and perswade them that the Monster which they assail is very terrible, since so many prepa∣rations are required to overcome him. Yet experience teacheth us that he takes upon himselfe pleasing formes to reclaim us; that he glides so pleasingly into the heart, as those whom he wounds, feele him not; he set upon Plato sleeping, and it was hard to discern sleep from death in this Philosopher; one of the Crassuses died laughing, and the Romans ceased to fear death, seeing it so amiable upon his face: Chilon was choked with joy; his sons victory was as fatall to him, as to the enemies of the State; and whil'st men sought for Laurell to crown the Conquerour; others sought for Capres to put upon his fathers head. Clydemus died not lesse plea∣singly, since the praises which Greece gave him, were the cause of his death, and that he lost his life amidst his Triumph.

He also since the corruption of our nature makes up a part of our selves. l 1.116 He is as well an effect of our temper, as of a fever; and as the agreement of the Elements makes us live, their disagreement makes us die. We carry the principles of death about us, and from once that originall righteousnesse ceased to appease the differences between those parts whereof we are composed we began to die. It is not necessary that the world disorder it selfe, to bereave us of our lives; though the seasons should not be put out of their pace, we should not cease to perish. And if death be to be feared, we must resolve to fear life. There are some people who apprehend any thing that happens of disorder in the world, and who grow pale as often as they see rivers over-flow their banks, as often as they hear thunder, or see earth-quakes: They think that every clap of thun∣der comes in pursuit of them, and that the sea exceeds not her bounds but to drown them on the earth; but the causes of our death are much lesse violent, and more naturall. For the earth should still stand stable under our feet, m 1.117 though the thunder should never roar over our heads, and though the sea should never exceed her bounds, the elements which we bear about us would notwithstanding con∣demne us to death. Death is so a punishment, as it is also a conse∣quence of our constitution. Whatsoever is composed of contrarie∣ties

can not subsist without miracle; and when the contrary parties do no longer agree, their division must be the ruine of what they compose. Mans immortality in the state of innocency, was not an effect of nature; he lost this priviledge as soon as he lost his righ∣teousnesse, and experience taught him, that nature without grace could not keep him from death. n 1.118 He should then be unjust if he should complain of a mis-fortune which is in some sort naturall un∣to him, and he might justly be accused of too much nicety, if he should not patiently endure a punishment, which he could not escape without a kind of Miracle.

But I dare adde, that death is rather a favour, than a punishment; and that in the estate whereinto sin hath reduced man, it is not so much a mark of justice, as of mercy: the evils which we undergo considered, to live eternally, would be eternall misery; earth would become hell, and the continuance of our torments would make us wish death; which is not dreadfull save to those abused soules which think themselves happy. The miserable desire it; and as death to one who lives contentedly is a punishment, so is life to him who lives discontentedly. o 1.119 Cain desired to die, had not the heavens prolonged his life to punish his parricide; he had prevented Lamechs cruelty, and after having been his brothers murtherer, he would have been his own hangman. Poets who cloke truths under fables, have not without reason fained nature to have invented death, to oblige her children; for seeing that their offence had incensed hea∣ven, that their life became a misery, that fortune intrencht upon their goods, calumny upon their innocency, and sicknesse upon their health; that the fever burnt up their entrails by unsupporta∣ble heat, that the gout stung their nerves, and that they lived not but in fear and sorrow, she broke the cords wherewith the soul was fastned to the body, and ended their lives to shorten their miseries.

To leave fables to Infidels; is it not a constant truth amongst Christians, that life would be an eternall punishment, did not death come in to the succour of old age, p 1.120 to deliver us from it? and that we should pray to go out of the world, if we were condemned to live there, after we had lost the use of our members by the pal∣sey, and were grown blinde, and deaf. Hell is onely more cruell than earth, for that death is banisht thence; if the pains of the dam∣ned could have an end; they should los•• the greatest part of their

rigour, and those miserable ones would finde some ease in their suf∣ferings, if after many ages they were assured to die: nothing makes them despair, but that eternity of their punishment; and nothing doth so much comfort men as the shortnesse of their tortures. Ty∣rants who unjustly endeavour to imitate God in justice, complain that death freed their enemies from their indignation; and that by assisting the miserable, it hindred their designes: for they very well knew, that he knows not how to revenge himselfe of his enemy, who puts him suddainly to death; and that those who will taste the pleasure of revenge, never condemne a guilty man to die till he be re-possessed of their favour. In fine, there are few who owe not thanks to death. q 1.121 Those who fear him in prosperity, invoke him in adversity; those who shun him in opulency, seek him out in poverty; and those who list not to know his name in health, call upon him in sicknesse. He is the onely cure of the incurable, the assured succour of the afflicted, the desire and hope of the misera∣ble; and of as many as implore his succour, there are none more obliged unto him, than those whose miseries and desires he pre∣veneth.

Though these thoughts may seem uncouth to those who love life, they cease not to be approved of by Christianity; and to passe for truth amongst the faithfull. If death be rigorous because he is the punishment of sin, he is pleasing because he is the childe of the Crosse; he hath changed nature, since he was consecrated in the Person of Jesus Christ; he hath forgone those dreadfull names which caused terrour, to assume those pleasing ones which bring consolation. He is onely asleep which charms our disquiets, a pas∣sage which leads us unto life, a happy shipwrack which throws us into the haven, an enemy which takes us out of prison, a Tyrant which breaks our chains, and a son of sin which furnisheth us with weapons wherewithall, to fight with, and to overcome his Father. In the state of innocency death was a punishment, wherewith di∣vine Justice did threaten man; in the state of sin, it was a chastise∣ment, r 1.122 wherewith she did punish the faulty; and in the state of grace, 'tis a sacrifice, which she requires at our hands, and whereby she is appeased. Formerly, to astonish man, he was told, if thou sin∣nest, thou shalt die; and now to fortifie him in persecution, it is said unto him, if thou dost not die, thou shalt sin; death which

was a punishment is become a victime, and the sinners chastisement is become the merit of the just.

The Son of God hath thus instructed us by his example, when he would fight with sin, he took up no other arms than death; he thought the victory would be more honourable, wherein he should employ the son against the father, and where he should make use of the effect, to destroy the cause: s 1.123 this is that which the great Apo∣stle teacheth us in these words, where he saith, that the Son of God hath overcome sin, by sin, and that in the punishment of our of∣fence he hath found a remedy to cure us. Fictitious Hercules vaunts himselfe amongst the Poets, to have overcome t 1.124 Monsters by other Monsters; to have made himselfe weapons by their spoils; and to have ended his last labours by the help of what he had pur∣chased in the former. This fable of Hercules is become a truth in Jesus Christ; and the Gospell obligeth us to acknowledge that in the death of God, which falshood had found out in the life of man. For he by dying hath satisfied his Father, he hath destroyed sin by it's Son; he hath saved the sinner by his punishment. Religion bindes us to confesse that death is the rise of our happinesse, that it is the Christians vow; that without being miserable, they rejoyce in being mottall; and that they should want somewhat of their glory; if since Jesus Christ did lose his life upon the Crosse, they were to ascend to Heaven, without dying they live with pain, they die with pleasure; and to describe a true Christian according to Tertullians language, we must say, that they are a sort of men who are always ready to die; u 1.125 and who placing their happinesse in the resemblance or imitation of Jesus Christ, desire to lose their lives a thousand times amidst tortures, to repair his charity by their love; and to suffer for his glory, what he hath undergone for their salvation.

The tenth Discourse.

That sleep is a punishment of sin as the image of death, and that it bereaves us of reason as dreames do of rest.

THose who think sleep the most harmlesse part of life wil ne∣ver be perswaded that it hath drawn some evill qualities from Adams sin, for it seems to reduce men to the conditions of Children, and that bereaving them of the use of reason, it takes from them that unfortunate power which they by their offences a∣buse. The guiltiest actions become innocent, during sleep, those va∣pours which do stupifie the senses excuse the sins of those that sleep, and as their x 1.126 Vertues are not rewarded, neither are their offences pu∣nished. Murthers are committed without effusion of blood, revenge is taken upon enemies without injustice, and another mans goods are without violence tane away whilst sleep doth lull the senses. The soul is not guilty of the faults which her body commits, and though she gives it life and motion, she hath not liberty enough to give it the guidance thereof. Imagination is the sole faculty which doth in-animate it, and this confused faculty not being guided by reason, commits evil unpunished, and pleads blindnesse for the ex∣cuse of it's errour.

Yet is it certain that in the condition wherein we are, sleep is a punishment of sin, and had man never sinned, he had never proved those disquiets wherewith he is agitated during his rest; Nature would have born a respect to her Sovereigns sleep, the elements which formed his body would not have troubled his rest, and va∣pours would have been so mild, as stupefying all the senses, they would have left the soul at liberty. In this happy condition, man might well have refreshed himself by sleep, y 1.127 his eyes would have been closed against the light, and his other senses would have dis∣pensed with their ordinary functions. But the soul would have re∣tired to within her self, and acting according to the manner of An∣gels, she would have known Truth without the interposition of the

Organs, her rest would rather have bn an extasie then sleep, and man might have said that his heart waked whilst his body took it's resti

I have much ado to believe that man was reduced to the conditi∣on of beasts, before he had sinned, and that he should have under∣gone the punishment of an offence, which he had not as yet commit∣ted. If there have been some Saints whom sleep did not deprive of the use of reason, and who loved God even whilst they slept, I think it not strange that the heavens should have granted this favour to our first father in his innocency, & that he entertein'd himself with Angels, whilest he could not entertain himself with men. St. Iohn the z 1.128 Baptist adored the Son of God in the chast womb of the Vir∣gin, the obscurity of his Prison, could not hinder the light of hea∣ven; from enlightning his understanding, that stupefaction which continues nine moneths with other children, hindred not him from instructing Elizabeth by his motions, and from letting her know that the mother which she saw was a Virgin, and that the child which she saw not, was God. The better part of Divines do not question but that the Virgin did enjoy this priviledge all her life, and that her soul, whilest her body rested, was wholly busied in considering the wonders of her son, she loved him as well sleeping, as waking; Sleep did not interrupt her love: Sleep which makes us beasts, made her an Angel, and her soul had this advantage in the night season that it did act without any dependency upon her bodie; rest did not be∣reave her of half her life, as it doth us, were she asleep, or were she awake, she did equally apply her self to God, her sleep was more ope∣rative then all our watchings, when her mouth was shut, a 1.129 her spi∣rit supplied her silence, and she praised God with her heart, not being able to do it with her tongue.

b 1.130 Imagine that Adams sleep did somewhat resemble that of the Vir∣gins, that he ceased not to reason, when he could not speak, that his noblest part slept not, whilest his other did, that his souls eyes were open, when his bodily eyes were shut, and that his soul exercising those species which she by the senses had received, considered the works of God, for why should we beleive that Adam should suffer that out-rage in the state of innocency, which the Saints had much ado to tolerate in the state of sin? Sleep which is the rest of their body is the punishment of their soul, they are afflicted that their will should be rendered so long useless, they conjure their tutel••ry ••els to wake whilest they sleep, and to love in their behalf 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉

goodnesse, which cannot be loved according to its worth, they look upon their bed, as upon their grave; c 1.131 they think to die as oft as they fall a sleep; and they murmure that their soule which is immortall, should be constrained to suffer such a kinde of death; I pardon them these their complaints; for 'tis true that sleep is the shame of our nature, and that the qualities wherewithall it is accompanied, teach us that it is become criminall: it reduceth men to the condition of beasts, it takes from them their noblest priviledges, and inhibits them the use of all the senses which may be serviceable to the soul.

This punishment seems to be more injurious than death, whose image it is: for death loosens the soule from the body, raiseth her to the condition of Angels, and withdraws her from a prison, which though she delighted in, ceased not to be fatall to her: but sleep stupifies the senses, sets upon such parts of the body as the soule makes most claim to; disperseth it's vapours into the eyes and ears, and reduceth man into a condition wherein he can neither speak, nor think. The heart during sleep, is in a perpetuall motion; natu∣rall heat disgests meat, the liver converts it into bloud, and distri∣butes it abroad amongst the veines; every part turnes it into it's own substance, and by a continuall miracle one and the same nourish∣ment doth extend it selfe into nerves, thickens into flesh, and har∣dens into bone. Nature repaires these ruines which watchings had made in the body, she leaves nothing uselesse in this condition, and her diligence extends even to our haire, which grows whil'st we Sleep. But the noblest of our senses are a sleep; our eyes serve no more for guides, nor the ears for intelligencers, the tongue to which motion is so naturall, is no more the soules interpreter; imagina∣tions selfe doth only furnish her with confused species, d 1.132 and the soul in this disorder is inforced to remain idle, and unusefull.

Passions be they never so violent are more respectfull than is Sleep; their first motions are only dangerous; who can shun being surprized by them, may fence himselfe against their fury; they are as easily calmed as raised; and knowing that reason is their sove∣reign, they reserve some respect unto her even in their revolt. But Sleep contemneth her authority, it obligeth this Queen to withdraw her selfe into the center of her State; and forceth her to abandon the extreamities. It mingles force with sweetnesse to corrupt men; steals so pleasingly upon a man, as it hath got entrance before one

be aware, and reignes so absolutely that unlesse it withdraw itselfe it cannot be repulsed, it's violence is pleasing because sweet; it's Tyranny supportable, because necessary; e 1.133 and it's authority is so absolute, as it calmes those passions which reason cannot allay: it takes from Conquerours the desire of glory, quencheth the flames of unchaste love, charmes the violence of choller, draws displeasure in it's vapours, and if it take not from desperate men the designe of making themselves away, it doth happily bereave them of the means of doing it.

But he sels his good turnes at a deer rate; since to cure our passi∣ons, he bereaves us of our reason; and puts us in a condition where∣in we cannot exercise our vertues; for though he cannot deface the habits thereof, yet he interdicts us the use, and brings us into the condition of wars under age, who being born rich have not the liberty to dispose of their goods; we have reason, yet are not rationall; Philosophers have high conceptions, yet cannot dis∣course; Princes conceive great designes, yet cannot execute them; Saints have good desires, but cannot accomplish them; and the faithfull have vertues, and cannot practise them.

Dreams, f 1.134 which may be termed the productions of sleep, are not lesse injurious to man, than is their father; for they appear to men be the extravagancies of a drowsie imagination, and the follies of a wise man; there is no Philosopher which hath not some ravings in his sleep, nor so well a govern'd mind which is not debaucht in dreaming: the soule hath liberty onely left her to forme Chimae∣raes; and be it either that the vapours which arise from the bowels trouble her presented forms, be it that the senses being drowsie make but confused reports unto her; or be it lastly that the organs of our bodies being bound up hinder her operations; she acts in such confusion and disorder, g 1.135 as all her thoughts are but ravings; and her discourses but extravagancies: if she light rightly, 'tis by hazard; and if in this bad condition she take a good resolution, she is more obliged to fortune, than to wisdome. A man must either be superstitious, or out of his wits to be guided by dreams; and who takes their ravings for revelations, is in great danger running mad, if he be not so already. We do not live in those days, where∣in God made his will known by dreams, he treats no more with men a sleep, but doth rather dispence his favours to those who are

awake. Since Truths have succeeded figures, God doth not often declare his oracles by dreams; and we learn his designs rather by prayer than by Sleep.

It is true that as his mercy makes us reap advantage by our mis∣fortunes, and turns our losse to our souls health, so doth it make use of Sleep and dreams for our good, h 1.136 the first sweetens our Pains, drowns our displeasures, and levels our conditions; takes the crowns from off the heads of Kings, Lawrels from Conquerors and Miters, from Bishops, breaks the bolts of Slaves, opens the prison doors, and if he do not restore liberty to captives, he at least makes them forget their servitude. The Prince hath no advantage over his sub∣jects, when they are both asleep, though his bed be more stately, his rest is no sweeter, and if any remembrance of his greatnesse remain in him when asleep, it causeth most commonly but disquiet and suspi∣tion. All men are alike, when asleep, and sleep as well as death le∣vels all conditions: a Philosopher is not more able then an ignorant person, when he sleeps, the poor man is as happy as the rich, when both of them have forgot their condition, and pleasure and pain cause no difference in men when their senses are stupefied with sleep.

He who doth so many acts of justice, do's some also of mercy, for he prepares us for death, reclaims us thereunto, and being more prevalent than all the discourses of Philosophers, perswades us that a man may die without pain, since he sleeps every day with delight. In effect, sleep is a short death, and death is nothing else but a long sleep, the bed is a grave for one night, and the grave a bed for many ages, we expect to waken from our beds, and we hope to rise again from i 1.137 our sepulchres: thus one and the same thing teacheth us two differing Truths, and sleep which fits us for death, animates us to beleive the resurrection, the dreams which he shapes whilest we rest, and those pleasing illusions wherewith he diverts our soul, when the senses refuse to serve her, are either proofs or presumptions of our Immortality, and we easily imagine that our soul may very well es∣cape death, since she is not wholly engaged in sleep which is deaths picture. k 1.138 In fine, dreams becomes often oracles, our spirit being lo∣sened from the senses, presages either good or bad fortune when it is retired to within it self, it doth act more easily, then when it is dissipated by objects; Great Personages receive advertisement from

Heaven, sleeping, and Angels treat with them, whilest they cannot treat with men. God chose the time of sleep to declare his designs unto his servants, and in the old Testament the dreams of Saints were oracles l 1.139 and prophesies. Ioseph wonne his credit in Egypt by inter∣preting Pharohs dreams; and superstition, which glories to imitate religion, did always believe that her Gods declared their wils whil'st men slept. But this advantage, is as reproach full one to us, and when the heavens deal thus with us, it is doubtlesly to teach us, that if we will be informed what their designs are we must forego our callings, and that to purchase Faith we must renounce reason, so as it is appa∣rent enough, that sleep and dreams upbraid us with our weaknesse, and are punishments of our sin.

Notes

• m 1.1

  Est virtus ha∣bitus animi ju∣dicio susceptus in mediocritate positus. Aristo∣teles. l. 2. Ethic. cap. 6.
• n 1.2

  Deus carnis author, Christus carnis Redem∣ptor est. Tertull de resur. c••rn.
• o 1.3

  Cor paruum est & magna cupit: vix ad unius milui refectionem sufficere posset & totus mun∣dus ei non suffi∣cit. Hugo. li. 3. de anin. â.
• p 1.4

  Sipatiatur o∣culus omnia do∣lebunt, omnia ••essabunt. Quid ventrem ocule mordes: quid pedes re∣mora. is: quid manus vincis? quia innexa na∣tura, sunt om∣nia, modequein∣effabili compa∣tiuntur. Chrysost.
• q 1.5

  Nunquam a∣nima sine carne est quamdiu in carne est, nibil non cum illa a∣git sine qua non est. Tertul. de resur. carn.
• r 1.6

  Volutet ali∣quid anima vul∣tus operatur in∣dicium: facies intentionum omnium specu∣lum est. Tertul. de resur. carn.
• s 1.7

  Quem enim natura usum, quem mundi fructum, quem elementorum sa porem non per carnem anima depascitur? per quam omni in∣strumento sen∣suum fult•• est. Tert. de resur. carn.
• * 1.8

  Nativitate re∣formata regene∣ratione coe••esti carnem ab omni vexatione resti∣tu••t, leprosam emaculat, coe•• perlumi••t pa∣ralyticam redin∣tegrat, daemonia∣tam expiat, mor∣tuam expiat, mortuam resus∣citat. Tert. de carne Christi cap. 3.
• u 1.9

  Caro abluitur ut anima ema∣cu••etur, carovn∣gitur ut anima consecretur, raro signatur, ut anima mu∣niatur, caro corpore & san∣guine Christi vescitur ut ani∣ma de Deosagi∣netur. Tertu. de resur. car. ca. 6.
• x 1.10

  Nulla omuino anima salutem potest adipisci nisidum in car∣ne est adeo caro s••lutis cardo est Tertull. ibid.
• y 1.11

  Artes per car∣nem, studia in∣genii per car∣nem, atque adeo totum vi∣vere animae car∣nis est, ut non vivere animae nil aliud sit, quàm à carne divertere. Ter∣tull. de resurr. carn. cap. 6.
• z 1.12

  Sermo de or∣gano carnis est. Tertul. de re∣sur. carnis ibid.
• a 1.13

  Virginitas qu••{que} & vidui∣tas, & modest•• in occulto ma∣trimonii dis∣simulatio de bo∣nis carnis Deo adolentur. Ter∣tull. de resur. car. ibid.
• b 1.14

  Absit ut Deus manuum sua∣rum operam, in∣genii sui curam adflatus sui vaginam, moli∣tionis suae regi∣nam, liberali∣tatis suae haere∣dem, religionis suae sacerdotem testimonii sui militem, Christi sui sororem in ate••num desti∣net interitum. Tertul. de re∣sur. car. cap. 7.
• c 1.15

  Corpus hoc animi pondus, acpoena est p••ae mente illo urge∣tur, in vincu••s est nisi accessit Philosophia. Senec. Epi. 65.
• d 1.16

  Non aliter a∣spicio corpus quam ut vin∣culum aliquod libertati meae circundatum. Idem ibid.
• e 1.17

  Nos gestamus la queum no∣strumnobiscum, circumferimus inimic um car∣nem nostram lo∣quor de peccato natam, de pecca∣to nutritam, cor∣rupiam nimis de ipsa origine, sed multo am∣plius de prava consuetudine vitia••am. Gre. in. Moral.
• f 1.18

  Nihil inerat quod carnem anim ù mue ho∣minis foeliciter in paradiso vi∣vent is offen∣deret. August. 14. de civi. Dei. c. 10.
• g 1.19

  Non ••nim cum animus ad corp•• declinat, corpus efficitur, sed tamen defe∣ctive, appetitu quodammodo corpora scit. August. l. se∣cund. cap. 10.
• h 1.20

  Ideo immundi spiritus Daemo∣nes appellantur quia se authores vita sceleste immundeque testantur. Au∣gust. lib. 2. de Civit. cap. 26.
• i 1.21

  Ebrietas sub∣versio sensus, tempestas lin∣guae, procella corporis, nau∣fragium castita∣tis. August.
• k 1.22

  Cor habet in ventre gulosus, lasciuus in libi∣dine, cupidus in lucro. Hieron. in Matth.
• l 1.23

  Omnes istae ar∣tes, quibus aut excitatur civi∣tas aut strepit, corporis nego∣tium gerunt: cui omnia olim t••nquam serco praes••abantur, nunc tanquam Domino paran∣tur. Senec. Epist. 90.
• m 1.24

  Sub hoc pec∣cali 〈◊〉〈◊〉 de∣mer gu••tur par∣vuli, qui sine re∣medio baptismi moriuntur: ha∣bent enim origi∣nale peccatum non per animam sed per carnem utique contra ctum, animae{que} resusum. Carni nam{que} ita anima unitar, ut cum carne sit una persona. Aug. lib. de spiritu & anima cap. 41.
• n 1.25

  Desiderii sui veneno mense∣bria, corpus con∣tumeli is applicat & junctis com∣plexibus ambo in mortiferas suavitatis ••si obdormiunt. Cy∣prian. in prolo. de ope••i. cardi∣nalib. Christi.
• o 1.26

  Caro officina est sp••tus, us, qui in e•• & per cam quaecumque af∣fectaver it, per∣ag••t & ••onsum∣mat. Idem ibid.
• p 1.27

  Nemo um∣quam carnem suam odio ha∣buit sed nutrit & sovet eam. Ephes. c. 5.
• q 1.28

  Os homini su∣blime dedit cae∣lumque tueri jussit, & erectos ad sydera tolle∣re vultus. Ovid. 1. Metamorph.
• r 1.29

  Misi nuntios meos sensus om∣nes exteriores ut quarerent te, & non inveni, quia matè quaere∣bam. August. soliloq cap. 31.
• s 1.30

  Diabolus posu∣it in comestione gulam, in gene∣ratione luxu∣riam, in conver∣satione invidi∣am, in gub••rna∣tione auaritiam, posuit malus co∣gitationes in corde, malas lo∣qu••tionesin ore, pravas disposi∣tiones in mem∣bris. Aug. in serm.
• t 1.31

  Tenuibus mul∣tisque membra∣n••eos Natura comyosu••t callo∣sis contra frigo∣ratunicis quas subinde purifi∣cant lach••yma∣tionum falivis. Plin. lib. 11. ca. 37.
• u 1.32

  Adeo oculis absoluta vis spe∣cult, ut tam parva••lla pu∣pilla totam ima∣ginem reddat hominis. Idem ib••d.
• x 1.33

  Omnibus ocu∣lis membrana vitri modo tran slacida obtendi∣tur. Palpebras Natura dedit ce•• vallum quoddam visus, & prominens munim••ntum contra occursan∣tia animalia aut 〈◊〉〈◊〉 fortu•• i••cidentia. Idem ib••d.
• y 1.34

  Visus longius prospicit & mo∣mento facit quod aures tem∣pore: prius enim coruscatio cer∣nitur quam au∣diatur. Marsil. Ficin. in con∣vivi. Platon.
• z 1.35

  Impudicus o∣culus impudici cordis est nun∣tius. Hierony.
• a 1.36

  Odit Dominus oculos sublimes. Proverb. 6.
• b 1.37

  Irritamenta sunt vitiorum oculi, duces sce∣lerum, huic a∣dulterium oculi ministrant, huic domum quam concupiscat.
• c 1.38

  Nequius oculo quid est crea∣tum? Ecclesiast. cap. 31.
• d 1.39

  Auditus cui hominum primo negatus est, huic & sermonis u∣su•• ablatus, nec sunt naturaliter surdi ut non ii∣dem sint & muti Plin. lib. 10. cap. 69.
• e 1.40

  Fides ex audi∣tu. Rom. 10.
• f 1.41

  Est in aure i∣mo memorie lo∣cus quem tan∣geares atte Ia∣mur. Plin. l. 11. cap. 45.
• g 1.42

  Sepi aures tuas spinis, & lin∣guam nequam noli audire & ori tuo facito ostia, & seras auribus tuis. Eccles. 28.
• h 1.43

  Sanoti Angeli & siue irâ pu∣niunt, & sine miseriae compas∣sione subveni∣unt, & tamen∣istarum nomina passionum con∣suetudine loquu tion's humana etiam in eos u∣surpantur, pro∣pter quandam operum simili∣tudinem non pro••ter effect o∣num 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mita∣tem. Aug. lib 9. de Civit, De•• cap. 5.
• i 1.44

  Amor est dele∣ctatio cordis per desiderium cur∣rens & requi∣escens per gau∣dium. August. lib. de substan∣tia dilectionis. cap. 1. & 2.
• k 1.45

  Irasci peccan∣tiut corrigatur, contristari pro afflicto ut libe∣retur, timere periclitantine pereat, nescio utrum quisquam sanâ considera∣tione repreben∣dat. August. li 9. de Civit. cap. 9.
• l 1.46

  Contristati est is secundum Deum, quo enim secundum Deum tristitia est poe∣nitentiam ad sa∣lutem stabilem operatur. 2. ad Corinth. cap. 7. Vtilis nobis unâ re tantum tristitia judi∣canda est cum hanc vel poeni∣tentia delicto∣rum, vel deside∣rio perfection is accenst, vel fu∣turae beatitu∣dinis contem∣platione conci∣pimus. Cassio∣dor. li. 9. c. 20.
• m 1.47

  Quemadmo∣dum ratione nul lum animal ob∣temper at sife∣rum sit. Natura enim eorum est surdasuadenti, i••a non sequun∣tur affectus, non audiunt quan∣talicun{que} sint. Sence. Ep. 86.
• n 1.48

  Misericordia non causam sed fortunam spe∣ctat, lacbrymis nocentissimorum movetur quae si liceret carcerem effringeret. Se∣nec. 2. de Cle∣ment. cap. 5.
• * 1.49

  o Plures pudore peccandi quam bona voluntate prohibit is absti∣nent. Senec. Epist. 83.
• p 1.50

  Rege incolumi mens omnibus una, amisso ru∣pere fidem. V••g. Georgie.
• q 1.51

  Affectus tam m•• minist••i sa••t quàm du∣ces, quas num∣quam ••atio com prime repossi••, n•• parc•• illis si ••e que 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ut ••e metum, 〈◊◊◊◊〉〈◊◊◊◊〉 S••uce. 1. de l••â cap. 9.
• i 1.52

  Hoc vero quid aliud quis dixe∣rit quam insa∣niam, circum∣ferre pericula, & ruere in igno••os, i••atum sine in∣juria, occurren∣tia devastantem & ferarum mo∣re occidere qu••m non oderis Senec. quaest. natural. lib. 5. cap. 18.
• s 1.53

  〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 in hoc corpore mo••tali incipit ••otare. Au∣gust.
• t 1.54

  ••ames natu∣•• est ••dam ••rbus, quia Natura sacta est 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••na. August in 〈◊〉〈◊〉. 〈◊〉〈◊〉. ••7.
• u 1.55

  Sanitas corpo∣ris est corum qui∣bus componitur concordia, & ejus agrotatio, corum discor∣dia, August.
• x 1.56

  Totus homo totus morbus est.
• y 1.57

  Omnis medi∣cina aut Natu∣ra amica, aut mali inimica esse debet. Arist.
• z 1.58

  Remedia nul∣l•• sunt tam sa∣lutaria quam quae faciunt dolorem.
• a 1.59

  Invenit nobis Deus remedia periculis pejora, Senec. in Mc∣deâ.
• b 1.60

  Abominan∣dum est genus remedii sanita∣tem debere mor∣bo, Senec▪ l b. 1. de Itâ c. 12.
• c 1.61

  Omne 〈◊〉〈◊〉 genus remedii l••co Deus admo∣••et, Senec. 1. de itâ▪ cap. 16.
• d 1.62

  Quosd•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 D•• multa peccare posse 〈◊〉〈◊〉 i••firmitate cor∣poris ne pec••, ut eis utili•• sit frangi 〈◊〉〈◊〉 gu••∣ribus ad salu∣tem, quam re••∣nere incolumes ad da••atio∣nem, Hugo lib. 1 de anima.
• e 1.63

  ••ulgor boni∣tatis pulcbritu∣do, Plato in convi.
• f 1.64

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 eti∣••m ••rbaricae ••ver ••tur, & ad ••bilem ••spectum 〈◊〉〈◊〉 oc•• m••∣suescit. P••l Jo∣vius hist. lib. 5.
• g 1.65

  Specie tu•• & pulthritud•• tuâ intende, prospere proced•• & regna, Psal 44.
• h 1.66

  Passiones qui∣dem humanam Christi caruem, contumeliae in∣••onestam proba∣vere. Tertul. de carne Chri∣sti.
• i 1.67

  Speciosus for∣ma prae filiis hominum, Psal. 44.
• k 1.68

  David erat rufus & vald•• pulcher, 1 Reg.
• * 1.69

  Quarti species 〈◊〉〈◊〉 similis filio Dei, Daniel.
• m 1.70

  Te Pulchrum videri non t••a natura, sed ocu∣lorum ••ectan∣tium facit i••∣firmitas. Boet. lib. 3. de consol▪
• n 1.71

  Momento ra∣pitur, null áque non dies formo∣sum corporis spolium abstulit, res est forma fu∣gax, Senec. in Hypolit.
• n 1.72

  I ni 〈◊〉〈◊〉 manus form•• damnosa sene∣ctus. Cumque aliquis dicet fu∣it haec form••sa do••ebis, & spe∣culum mendax esse qu••ere tuum. Ovid.
• o 1.73

  Flet quoque ut in speculo ru∣gas conspexit aniles, Tyndarys & secum cur sit bis rapt•• requirit. Ovid. Metam. lib. 15.
• * 1.74

  q Form•• digni∣tas aut morbo deflorescit, aut vetustate ex∣tinguitur. Cic. lib. 4. Rhetor.
• q 1.75

  Lang••scunt folio ••lia palli∣do, & gratae ca∣piti deficiunt rosae, ut ••ulgor teneris qui ra∣diat ••osis. Senec in Hypolit.
• r 1.76

  Rara est con∣cordia for••e atque pudicitiae. luvenal.
• s 1.77

  Nam te deco•• iste quod optas esse vetat, voto∣que tuo tuo for∣m•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Ovid. M tam. lib. 1.
• t 1.78

  Fastus inest pulchris sequi∣turque superbi•• sor••am. Ovid.
• u 1.79

  Amor 〈◊〉〈◊〉 rationis oblivio. Hieronym. in Ep••stola.
• x 1.80

  Tam sancti viri est suffundi si virginem vi∣derit, quam sanctae virginis si à viro visa sit. E••usdem est lidibinis velle videri & videre. Tertul. de Vir∣ginibus veland.
• y 1.81

  Vestite vos serico probita∣tis, byssino san∣ctitatis, purpura pudi••itiae. Tali∣ter pigmentat•• Deum habebitis ama••orem. Ter∣tul. de cultu ••oem c••ultimo.
• z 1.82

  Stdium pla∣cendi per deco∣rem quem natu∣raliter 〈◊〉〈◊〉 invitatorem li∣bidinis non ven••t ex integrâ con∣scientia. Tertul. de cultu ••aem. c. 2.
• a 1.83

  Pereat corpus quod amari po∣test oculis qui∣bus nolo, Am∣bros.
• b 1.84

  Adhuc tu per∣manes in simpli∣citate tuâ, bene∣dic Deo & m••∣rere. Job cap. 2.
• * 1.85

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 Samson va∣lidus & fortis leonem suffoca vit, sed a morem ••um s••ocare non pot••t, vin∣cula solvit ho∣stium, sed sua∣rum no•• solvit nexu•• cupidita∣tum, m••sses in c••dit alienas sed unius ipse mulieris ac∣census igniculo m••ssem suoe virtutis amisit. Ambros. lib. 1. de David.
• f 1.86

  Quid est spe∣••iosa mul••er? Sepulchrum de∣albatum: Nisi fuerit casta pu∣dica Pul••ritu∣do sine his vir∣tutibus est prae∣cipitium pa∣tens, venenum inspicienti•• compositum. Chry sost. in Psalm. 50.
• e 1.87

  Vela caput & mul••er Si ma∣••er propter fili∣••s, si soror pro∣pter r••tres, si filia propter pa∣••res: omnes in te ••tates peri∣clitantur, i••ue armaturam pu∣doris; murum sexui tuo strue, qui nec tuo•• e∣mittat oculos uec admittan lienos. Tertul. de Virginib. veland. cap. 13.
• f 1.88

  Sero t••amas vi 〈◊〉〈◊〉 tam antiqua & tam nova. Con ••ss.
• g 1.89

  Homo qui me∣dius constit••∣batur inter Deum & crea∣turas dum De∣um cessavit a∣mare, incepit ad creaturas omnes per amorem des∣cendere: quod∣que in uno Deo inveniebat in creatu•• is quae ••i∣vit nec invenit. August.
• h 1.90

  Homo 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 & ma•• ••rentis, frigoris aesius la∣boris impatiens, alimenta metu∣••s sua quorum modo inopia modo copia rumpitur. Odor illi sapor & ci∣bus, & sine qui∣bus vivere non potest, mortise∣ra sunt. Senec. a•• Marc. c. 11.
• i 1.91

  Omnis vi••a 〈◊〉〈◊〉 est, Sence.
• k 1.92

  Segnius bo∣mines bona 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mala sen∣••ant.
• l 1.93

  Quotidie mo∣rimur, aliqua pars vitae demi∣tur, & tunc quoque cum cre∣scimus vita de∣crescit. Hunc ipsum quem a∣gi••us diem cum morte divi••∣mus. Senec. Epist. 24.
• m 1.94

  Incrementa ipss si bene com∣putes damna sunt. Senec. ad Marc.
• n 1.95

  Infantiam a∣misimus, deinde pueritiam▪ de∣inde adolescen∣tiam: quicquid transiit temporis 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Senec. Epist. 24.
• * 1.96

  Hoc quod vi∣v••s proxi∣m••m nihilo est et tamen ob 〈◊〉〈◊〉 no∣stram 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Senec.
• o 1.97

  Punctum est quod vivimus, & adhuc puncto minus, sed hoc minimum specie quadam longio∣ris spatii natura divisit, aliud ex hoc infantiam fecit, aliud ado∣lescentiam, a∣liud senectutem. In quàm angu∣sto quot gradus posuit. Senec. Epist. 49.
• p 1.98

  O quam ridi∣culi sunt morta∣lium termini ultra Istrum Dacu•• non ex∣••at, Parthis o••stet Euphra∣tes, Rhenus German••ae mo∣dum faciat, Pi∣renae is, Galli∣••s & Hispani•• dividat. Senec. q••st. Natural. lib. 1. praefat.
• q 1.99

  Si quis ••or∣micis de•• intel∣lectum hominis nonne & ill•• u∣n••m a••m in m••ltas Provin∣cias divident. Idem i••id.
• s 1.100

  Nemo inveni∣tur qui p•• uni∣••m suam divi∣dere v••lit: vi∣tam unusquis{que} quam multis di∣stribuit. Sence. de brevit. vitae.
• t 1.101

  Simul ad tem∣poris ••acturam ventum est, pro∣fusissimi sumus in eo cujus unius honesta avaritia est. Senec. de brevit. vitae c. 3
• t 1.102

  Non mise••e∣tur mors 〈◊〉〈◊〉 non re•• eretur divitias, non sapienti•• 〈◊◊〉〈◊◊〉 non ae∣tati denique parcit, nisi quod seni••s est in 〈◊〉〈◊〉, ••uve∣nibus vero in ins••is. Bern. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Serm.
• u 1.103

  Didicitque Achilles, & D••s ••ates mori S••n. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ••ade
• x 1.104

  Tres sunt 〈◊〉〈◊〉 mortis, ca••us infirmi∣tas, senectus Casus dubia; in∣firmitas gra∣via; senectu•• certa denunti∣at. Casus nun∣tiat mo t••m la∣tentem; infir∣mitas apparen∣tem; senectus praesentem. H•• quot mortium form••. Hugo de cl••ustro an••∣mae, lib 2.
• y 1.105

  Stipendium peccati mors. Primegen••ta peccati. Paul.
• z 1.106

  In quacun{que} die comederis ex eo, morte morie∣••s. Genes. 2.
• a 1.107

  Quare à sene, ubi pueritia, u∣bi infantia, ubi ann••, ubi men∣ses▪ beu periere. Ad Mart. Sen.
• b 1.108

  Ut facilius obrepat mors sub i•• so nomine vitae latet, a∣gunt opus suum fata nobis sen∣sum nostrae ne∣cis auferunt. Senec. ad Martiam.
• c 1.109

  Erge tu i•• tantis erroribu•• es ut existimes Deos mortium signi•• praemitte∣re, & quidquam in terris ta•• magnum esse ut qu•• perire mundus sciat. Senec. lib. 1. Quaest. Natu∣ral. cap. 1.
• e 1.110

  Omnibus est eadem lethi via: non tamen unus. Est vitae 〈◊〉〈◊〉 exitii{que} ••odus. Cor. Gall.
• * 1.111

  〈◊〉〈◊〉 Pulvis es & in pulverem re∣••rteris. Gen. 2
• g 1.112

  Lex est non poena perire. Senec.
• h 1.113

  Ita est nihil perpetuum, pauca di••turn▪ sunt, aliud al o modo fragile est: rerum exi∣tus variantur: caeterum quid∣quid coepit, & 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Senec. ad Polyb. in initio.
• i 1.114

  Tolle istam pompam sub quâ lates & stultos territas: mors est quam nuper seruus meus quam an∣cilla contemp∣sit. Sen. Epist. 24.
• * 1.115

  k Mors contem∣ni d••bet mag••s quàm solet: multa enim de ill•• credimus: ••ultorum inge∣niis certatum est ad r••gendam ejus infamiam. Sen. Epist. 82.
• l 1.116

  Non morieris quia agrotas sed quia vivis. Sen. Epist. 58.
• m 1.117

  O••e de••n∣tem & oblitum fragilitatis tuae tuae si tunc mortem times cum tonat. Sen. lib. 2. Quaest. Natural. cap. ultim••.
• n 1.118

  Haec omnia elementa quibus mundus admi∣nistratur tam causa vivendi sunt quam viae mortis. Senec. Epist. 117.
• o 1.119

  Cupidum mortis ut lu••∣ret delictum vetuit mori, Tertul.
• p 1.120

  Quid aliud ess••t homini vi∣tiato aeterna vi∣t quàm aeter∣n•• mise••iae.
• q 1.121

  Perimat ty∣rann•• lenis, in regno meo mors impetratur. Se∣nec. in Thyeste.
• r 1.122

  Mors quae in lege Naturae e∣rat poe••a pecca∣ti, sacta est in lege gratiae ho∣stia pro peccato. August.
• s 1.123

  De peccato damnavit pec∣catum. Paul.
• t 1.124

  Armat us ve∣nit leone, & ••ydrâ, in Her∣cul. furent.
• u 1.125

  Genus homi∣num morti ex∣peditum. Tert. in Apologet.
• x 1.126

  Et bona facta gratuita sunt in somnis, & deli∣cta secura. Tertul. de ani∣ma.
• y 1.127

  Ego dormio & cor meum vigilat. Adae s••mnus ex∣tasis appellatur à Patribus.
• z 1.128

  Elizabet, Mariae, Joan∣nes, Domini sensit adven∣tum. Istae grati∣••m loquuntur illis intus ope∣rantur duplici∣qus miraculo prophetant Ma∣tres spiritu par∣vulorum. Am∣bros. in Luc. c. 1
• a 1.129

  Somnus licen∣tia animae sine more fugitivae. Tertul.
• b 1.130

  Sanctorum somnus operato∣rius est. A n∣bros. Ep••st.
• c 1.131

  Stultum est▪ somno delectatis mortem horro∣re▪ cum somnus assiduus sit mor∣tis imitatio. Senec.
• d 1.132

  Somnus est ligamentum o∣mnium sensuum Aristot. lib. de somno & Vigil.
• e 1.133

  Lucis requies noctisque comes qui par Regi famul••qus ve∣nis, placidus s••ssum lenisque soves, pavidum l••hi genus hu∣••um co••is ••ngam discere mortem, in Her∣cul furente.
• f 1.134

  Somnia som∣ni negotia. Ter∣tul. de animâ.
• g 1.135

  Saepe somnia vana, & fru∣stratoria & turbida, & lu∣dibrios•• & im∣munda à 〈◊〉〈◊〉 incutiun∣tur. Tertul. de anima.
• h 1.136

  Somnus re∣creator corpo∣rum, redinte∣grator virium, probator vale∣tudinum, op••∣rum, medicus laborum, cuile∣gitime fruendo dies cedit, nox legem facit, au∣ferens rerum e∣tiam colorem. Tertul. de ani∣ma.
• i 1.137

  Etiam per somnium imagi∣nem mortis, fi∣dem initiaris, spe•• medit••ris, discis mori & ••ivere, discus vigilare dum dormis. Tertul. de anima.
• k 1.138

  Stoici Deum volunt inter cae∣tera praesidia di∣vinatricum ar∣tium somnia no∣bis quoque indi∣disse, peculiare solatium natu∣ralis oraculi. Tertull. de anima.
• l 1.139

  Siquidem & 〈◊〉〈◊〉 divinitus somniat, & ma∣•• penè vis ho∣••inum ex visio∣nibus Deum di••unt. Ter∣tul. ibid.