The holy court in five tomes, the first treating of motives which should excite men of qualitie to Christian perfection, the second of the prelate, souldier, states-man, and ladie, the third of maxims of Christianitie against prophanesse ..., the fourth containing the command of reason over the passions, the fifth now first published in English and much augemented according to the last edition of the authour containing the lives of the most famous and illustrious courtiers taken out of the Old and New Testament and other modern authours / written in French by Nicholas Caussin ; translated into English by Sr. T.H. and others.

THE HOLY COURT. SECOND TOME.

THE PRELATE.

The first SECTION. That it is convenient the Nobilitie should govern the Church.

I Begin by the Altar to measure the * 1.1 Temple of the Holy Court, and set a Prelate before your eyes, who bare Nobility into the house of God, and there furnished himself with all the vir∣tues, which made him speak like an Oracle, and live as a true image of the Divinity. The Platonists say, the whole order of the world dependeth on Intelli∣gences, which bear sway in the motion of the first Heaven; and we in imitation of them may say, all the good of Christendom proceeds from the examples of Ecclesiastical men, to whom the Son of God hath consigned his authority on their brows, his word in their mouths, his bloud and Church into their hands. For if bees, engendred of the body of a bull, carry in their entrails the very form of that bull from whence they are derived; by a much more just title the people * 1.2 will bear the marks of those, whom God hath given them for Doctours and Fathers, whether it be by correspendence of nature, through custom, or by imitation, which ever hold a very great predomi∣nance over spirits disposed to receive their impres∣sions. Behold the cause why a Prelate, who liveth conform to his profession, imprinteth the seal of the Son of God, on all those souls he governeth, and pro∣duceth himself in as many objects as he hath imita∣tours of his virtues. As on the contrary part, he who liveth ill in great Nobility and dignity, is a Seraphin in appearance, but a Seraphin without eyes, without heart, without hands, which hath wings of a pro∣fane fire, able to burn the Propitiatory, if God afford not his helping hand.

And forasmuch as we at this day see the Nobility aspire to Ecclesiastical charges, and many fathers to dispose their children thereunto, sometimes with more fervour than consideration, it hath caused me to undertake this Treatise for the Nobility which de∣dicate themselves to the Church, as well to shew the purity of intention they ought to exercise therein, as to give them a fair discovery of the goodly and glo∣rious actions they ought to pursue in the practice thereof. I here will first offer you a simple draught, which I afterward intend to adorn with the great∣ness of S. Ambrose, as with more lively colours.

Plato rejoyced to behold Princes and Governours of Common-wealths to become Philosophers, and we have cause to praise God, when we see the chil∣dren of Noble houses to dispose themselves to Priest∣hood, not by oblique and sinister ways, but with all the conditions which their bloud requireth, and sa∣cred dignity exacteth in so noble a subject.

Why should we deny them Myters, Crosiers, and eminency in the Church? So far is their birth from ministering any occasions of the contrary, that it ra∣ther affordeth them favour both to undertake such charges with courage, and discharge their conscience with all fidelity.

The reasons hereof are evident. For first, we must aver, that by how much the more honourable the charges are, so much the rather they are proper for such as make profession of honour; provided always on the other side, they have qualities suitable to those ministeries they pretend to exercise. And are there any in the world more ambitious of honour than Noblemen? Ostentation is the last shirt they put off, and where can you find a more solid and eminent honour, than that which is derived from the lawfull administration of Ecclesiastical functions?

Aristotle saith, Truths which transmit themselves * 1.3 through the common sense of every man, get into credit as it were by the decree of nature. Now such hath been the esteem of all Nations, that Kingdoms and Com∣mon-wealths being established upon Religion and temporal jurisdiction, as on two columns; Religion so much the more excelleth politick government, as things divine transcendently surmount humane. And for this cause, favours, priviledges, and preheminen∣ces, have ever been given to Priests in the greatest and most flourishing Monarchies and Common-wealths of the world, as we may see in Histories, and in the policie of the Aegyptians, Assyrians, Chaldeans, Medes, Persians, Grecians, Romans, Gauls, and other Nations.

The honour of Priesthood gained so much on the hearts of all people, that the Monarchs of the earth seemed not to rule but with one arm, if they made not in one and the same person the alliance of Priest∣hood and Royalty: so that oftentimes they shewed themselves as depraved in their proceedings, as gree∣dy in matter of honour.

The Roman Emperours, who stretched their autho∣rity as far as the point of their launce could be ex∣tended, and who needs would be Commanders of

arms, to become thereby Masters of laws, failed not to joyn the Myter with the Diadem, and as soon to make themselves great Prelates as great Emperours: thinking by this means to have the more power over the hearts of the people, and the less opposition for resistance, when they had depressed the forces, which might give some remarkeable counterpoize to their greatness. And it is an admirable thing, that the first * 1.4 Christian Emperours, as Constantine and his chil∣dren, still retained the titles of the great Pontifices of Gentilism, as a Maxim of State, lest forgoing this fantasie of dignity, they should behold themselves be∣reaved of some jewel of their Crowns.

This is to authorize my proposition, which saith, true honour belongeth to Ecclesiastical charges, when they are well administred; since the Monarchs of the world, from the very abuse of these dignities, have derived glory: but to desire them for honour, is to dishonour the dignity by the unworthiness of your desire. So many Ixions now adays cast themselves athwart the smoke to court a cloud, that there is almost no love left, but for false Deities. That which maketh Ecclesiastical men honourable, is, well to use their titles, and embellish their charges with the ornament of their lives. Otherwise all this pet∣ty gaudery, which we see sparkling round about them is very little. It is not the Myter which maketh the Bishop, but to be esteemed worthy of the Myter by transcendency in virtue, is to be more than a Bishop without merit.

Sometimes we beholding the Meteors of the air, * 1.5 imagine to see Crowns about the Sun and Stars, which really are nothing but vapours, composed of gross air, which illusion coloureth, our imagination figureth, and the wind scattereth. This is to make fools believe there are Crowns encompassing this mighty Star. The Sun is adorned sufficiently with his proper rays; should he borrow his brightness from the vapours of the earth, he would no longer be the Sun: Even so is it, when with a terrestrial and impure eye we consider some exteriour marks of Ec∣clesiastical dignity; we think such things make Pre∣lates, and we therein are deceived, for they are va∣pours of the earth, which the wind sooner or later will dissipate. He that will be truly resplendent, must within himself bear the source of his own light.

Herein consisteth the most excellent form of ho∣nour, when a Prelate allieth sincerity of life to the dignity of his place, and that to serve as an example for all noble spirits, who make election to be of the Church, he advanceth his extraction by the lustre of virtues, which are as rays reflecting from the Divine greatness.

I say for a second reason, that when Noblemen hold Ecclesiastical offices, and therein employ their whole extent of duty, we may hope from their mini∣steries, not onely more radiance, but succour also, as from such as command with greater authority, and make themselves to be obeyed with more advantage.

It is undoubtedly true, that God sufficiently ma∣keth it appear he hath no need of men, when purpo∣sing to stretch out his arm to some extraordinary a∣ctions, he oftentimes extracteth creatures from dregs and dust, to set them in thrones, and establish them with such authority, that he causeth the powers of the earth to bow under their commands, who bear the decrees of Heaven; which hath been seen in the infancy of the Church, and in the sequel thereof, through all Ages: Yet must we say, that as our Sa∣viour, * 1.6 although he had a science increate as God, a science infused as a Prophet, a science of beatitude, as he who was possessour thereof from the first mo∣ment of his life; notwithstanding to accommodate himself to the laws of that nature which he had as∣sumed, spared not to work by humane science, which Divines call experimental; so in the government of the Church, though he sometimes operates without any regard had to dependence on the ordinary course which himself hath established, as when he took simple fisher-men to make them Masters over the Sages, and Instructers of Monarchs, yet at other times proceeding in a common strain, and more usual to nature, he chose men of note and authority, to em∣ploy them in the large confines of his Empire and jurisdiction.

So drew he Moses from Pharaoh's Court, to make him the God of Pharaoh: so for Princes among the Gentiles, which he meant to enrole under his stand∣ard, he elected Kings and Sages: so after he had constituted his Church under the government of a poor fisher-man of Galilie, he took one derived from the bloud of Emperours, whom he made his Succes∣sour, to wit, S. Clement: so he caused in divers occa∣sions Ambroses, Gregories, Leoes, Calixtuses, to arise, and so many others of most honourable extraction, that they might bear Nobility as a dowry into the bosom of the Church, which they had so happily governed.

This Nobility was to their dignity as a guilded case to a rich tablet, as gold to the diamond, beauty of body to the soul, habiliaments to the grace and garb of body. They had more lustre, more splen∣dour, more resolution; and the subjects, who have not always intentions so pure in rendring honour to Ecclesiasticks, as not to regard the exteriour ornament of their qualities and conditions, became more ob∣sequious to their commands, having not boldness enough to contradict even those, who by right of their birth had as soon entered into Empire as life.

How many times had secular powers been seen to transgress their limits, to usurp on the Church, and what disorder had we beheld to arise from the pro∣secution of this confusion, had not the hand of God raised Ecclesiasticks of noble houses, of great autho∣rity, of much courage, to sustain the shock, to tie the hands of the factious, and punish the boldness of the most daring, to call back (as Job saith) the prey out of the teeth of iniquity, and make a Diadem to him∣self wholly composed of actions of justice, magnani∣mity, religion, in this manner more resplendent, than if he had possessed all the pearls of the Orient?

What a fair field of battel, what goodly palms, what bright glory hath a noble soul, to make it self a brazen wall for the defence of the Church, and obtain of God the blessing pronounced by the Pro∣phet Isaiah, in favour of the High-Priest Eliachim? * 1.7 What a glorious honour is it, to be set in a place of trust, to be planted by the hand of God, to serve as a prop for the house of God, to be the seat of glory for the Lord of Hosts, to carry the moveables, riches, and greatness of the Church on his shoulders?

Finally, for a third reason, to conduct the Nobi∣lity to Ecclesiastical dignities, is to bring it into its house. All things willingly return to their source. The waters cease not to glide along, to render them∣selves to the Ocean. The rays of the Sun touch the earth, not forsaking their star; the branches of the tree offer the homage of their verdure, leaves, and fruit, to the root; he goeth well, that hasteneth to his be∣ginning.

Now so it is, that the greatest part of Church en∣dowments came from the Nobility, who then de∣spoiled themselves to cover the Altars, and now ma∣ny unveil the Altars to cloath themselves. If you (O Noblemen) desire to enjoy the patrimony which your Ancestours have left to the Church, you ought not to seek it by unlawfull, mischievous, and tyran∣nical ways, but by means proportionable to the in∣tentions of those, who laid those rich foundations. And what intentions had they, but to cut the trees * 1.8 of Basan, to make oars for the vessel of S. Peter, but to lay their wealth at the feet of God, who accord∣ing to the Prophet, made himself a foot-step of Sa∣phirs,

to serve as a ladder for glory; but to entertain on earth an image of the Heavenly Jerusalem, to grant to the Church men of science and conscience, men of courage and fidelity, for the ornament, support, and maintenance thereof?

If you approach thither, with such an intention, I am of opinion the gates ought to be opened unto you, and that you should enter into your self to go∣vern the house of Jesus Christ, and not destroy it. We have, thanks be given to God, a great King, all whose inclinations dispose him to goodness, as lines to the center: as much love as he hath for justice, so much zeal hath he for the glory of Altars. As God is plea∣sed to sow the stars on the azure of the firmament, so hath he a sensible delight to furnish the Church with good Prelates, because they are the stars of the earth. Merit under him is in possession of good hopes, and hope is not far distant to be consummate in fruition. He is pleased to gratifie the Nobility with the goods of the Church, but he will, his intention be seconded by the merit of those that shall enjoy them. Take the ways of wisdom and virtue to enter into your inheri∣tance, which ever are most assured and the most ho∣nourable. The time hath been when one must, as it were, have done evil to receive good; if now good be offered to those who do it, who would willingly be vitious, and sow crimes to reap miseries?

The second SECTION. That the Nobility should not aspire to Ecclesia∣stical offices, but by lawfull ways.

PRophane Lucian spake truer than he thought, * 1.9 when he feigned Gentilism was filled with gods, whereof some were made of wood and stone, subsisting by the prerogative of antiquity, which age and time gave them; the other much more late∣ly formed, were of gold and silver, resenting the pro∣fuse prodigality of the latter Ages. This caused a di∣vorce in the Temples: the gods of earth were still willing to hold their ranks, shewing besides the anti∣quity of their original, that they were framed by the confident hands of admirable work-men, and had li∣neaments excellently polished. The gods of gold and silver, dignified by the riches of the stuff of which they were composed, spake proudly, and needs would have priority, since the mettal whereof they were made, transcended much in the estimation of men. The matter was put into deliberation in the great Parlia∣ment of Olympus, and the golden gods carried it, not by merit, but by authority of their riches.

Should this scoffing spirit be raised again in these our days, to make a Satyre on the manners of these times, he could not be better fitted. For to speak, not universally of all Ecclesiastical Nobles, since thanks be to God, there are many, who most happily have linked to Nobility all the other qualities requi∣site to their condition; but considering in gross the disorder and corruption, we may well say the gods of gold at this day have the upper hand. We hereto∣fore saw divers spiritual men, extracted from low condition, who arrived to dignities by the degrees of labour, integrity, knowledge, and were finally cro∣zier'd and mytered by the strength of much merit. These men appeared in the Church of God, as those ancient Statues made by the hand of Policletes, Phidias and Sysippus; there was not a lineament in them which spake not. But when gold and silver began to sway more than ever, the rich allured with the wealth of the Church, brake a way through by the help of con∣tentions, authority and command, which silver gave them over the courses of human things; they, maugre industrie and virtue, have made golden gods, which banish as it were all the gods of the earth, notwith∣standing the excellent forms, and all the gifts of na∣ture and grace they could possibly acquire. It seem∣eth for these men the Church is at this day become a great Oak over-turned, where men hastily, on every side run for prey; there is not a hand so little, that will not become outragious to bear away some spoil thereof.

But you noble and generous spirits, who in your minorities dedicate your selves to the ministeries of the Church, behold the first step you must tread. Be carefull herein, as your lives and salvation are dear unto you; aim well your carrier, enter by the gate of honour, to free your self from the disturbances of life and troubles of death. Be ye assured it is the abomi∣nation of the desolation, foretold by the Prophet Da∣niel, * 1.10 the gall of bitterness, and perplexity of sin, decla∣red by the Apostle S. Peter, to enter into an Ecclesia∣stical benefice by unlawfull and strained ways, with∣out vocation. The reasons hereof are evident.

First, the Saints have called this vice, the iniquity of Libanus, alluding to these words of the Prophet Habacuck: The Iniquity of Libanus shall cover thee: * 1.11 where the text spake to those, who despoiled the ho∣ly Land, because the mount Libanus is a holy hill of Palestine, all covered over with fair Cedars, much renowned in the Scripture; from whence it cometh, it mystically signifieth the Church: and those are truly covered with the iniquity of Libanus, who sur∣charge themselves with the weight of inexorable ju∣stice, for attempting on the highest pieces of the patri∣mony of God, which are the offerings of the faith∣full, left for the maintenance of Ecclesiastical state.

This iniquity of Libanus, is the sin of Zeb, Zebeus, and Salmana, who are branded with perpetual infa∣my, for plotting against the Tabernacle of God. The Prophet said, that encouraging one another they cast out these inconsiderate words: Let us go and possess * 1.12 the Sanctuary of God, as our proper inheritance. And what, I pray, do such like now adays? Hold they not the goods of the Church, as one would a Tene∣ment, to pass it from hand to hand, from nephew to nephew? Although they oftentimes in their consci∣ence judge them most uncapable, yet needs must they take good heed how they forgo any thing: the chairs must be filled with honour, with flesh, and hay, and rather will they set shadows on a pinacle, than render to God what is due to him. And what will happen to these Salmanaes or Salmoneans? even that which the same King and Prophet said: They shall turn about as the wheel of the potter, inces∣santly * 1.13 wandring from purpose to purpose, from ambi∣tion to ambition, from bargain to bargain, in a thou∣sand embroilments of spirit, till death come, who shall * 1.14 bruise them (as saith the Wiseman) on the cestern, and shall scatter them for ever from the face of God.

It is no small matter to invade the treasure of Kings, since it is the bloud of the people, the sinew of war, the knot of peace; and the bloud-suckerrs of State which abuse it, sooner or later shall pour their lives out in the dust. And what do you think is it, to abuse the patrimony of God (whereunto so many good souls have oft-times contributed their bloud and sweat) and to enter therein as a Fox, a Lion, with∣out any other intention but to slay and devour the flock, which they ought not so much as to shear?

The crimes which do afront the Divinity, ever bear their punishments behind them. Crassus felt a∣mong * 1.15 the Parthians the Religion of the Temple of Jerusalem, which he had despoiled; the fortune of the Romans was made a prey, the Army routed, the trea∣sures forsaken, the lives of so many mortals exposed to the dint of sword, to chastise the avarice of one man, who durst invade the goods consecrated to the Divine Majesty. Whilest he stretched out his Harpies hands on the goods of men, God suffered him: so soon as he set his tallans on the moveables of the

Temple, he felt the steel of Barbarians, as revengers of his sacriledge.

A hand from Heaven before for the same cause, charactered the dreadfull decree of a Babylonian King, which hath served as a Tragedie for all poste∣rity: * 1.16 and afterward Heliodorus in the Machebees, was prodigiously punished by exterminating Angels, who in the mid-day scourged him in the sight of all the world, employing the Heavenly whips on his body for the same crime, as he had bestowed his hardiness and hand to steal a jewel from Heaven.

If you say there is much difference between the sacrilegious, who steal the treasures of the Church, and those who by ways unlawfull, seize on benefices, which they unworthily hold to the confusion of Christianity: I answer, there may be the difference that would be between a publick robber, and a pri∣vate thief; the one proceeding with open force, the other more cautelously, causing his venom to creep, is by so much the more pernicious, as under the skin of a sheep, he bears the heart of a wolf.

Adde hereunto for a second reason, that the Balta∣zars, Crassuses, and Heliodoruses, and the Hereticks of our time, who have made open war against the trea∣sures of the Temple, having nothing at all hurt the reputation of the Church, which as the Pole-star is ever in motion, and never setteth: but the unjust u∣surpers of Priest-hood, who sometimes enter into charge with extream defect of science and consci∣ence, besides that they unprofitably devour the patri∣mony of the Son of God, do burden his spouse with eternal reproach.

It is observed, that in these deplorable times, where all seemeth to tend to the subversion of Laws, still some new monsters have appeared, who by their birth have declared the disasters that should happen to the world.

The tenth Age, which was the true iron-age, wherein all vices were in force, all sciences in eclipse, all abuse in credit, and as it were all crimes in impu∣nity, afforded neither Satyres, Chimeraes, Centaurs, nor other monsters against nature: But for a certain presage of great evils, which we afterward saw to over-flow all Christendom, children of great men were seen, who had nothing great in them but vice, as being such, who were born for disgrace, bred in disorder, naturalized in sin, to enter during their mi∣nority, into Ecclesiastical charges, to debase authority, and abolish merit. A Pope, John the eleventh, enor∣miously * 1.17 vitious, having the malice of a man most de∣bauched, and the age of a child unexperienced, to sit in the chair of S. Peter! A Theophylact, son of the Emperour, by the absolute power of his father, to seize on the See of Constantinople, to become after∣wards a Merchant of horses, which he so violently affected, that besides the prodigious race of two thousand, which he ordinarily bred, he many times left the Altar where he sacrificed to the living God, to hasten to see some Mare of his that had foled in the stable! Our France hath not been exempt from this * 1.18 unhappiness: for in the same age, Hugo, a child of five years old, was constituted Archbishop of Rhemes, to possess the seat of the great S. Remigius, which was to paralel the foot of Hercules to the leg of a flie.

All Christendom was amazed to behold such pro∣motions, and held them in the rank of Comets, which make terrour to march before them, and after them sterility, massacres, and disasters. Were there no other consideration but the interests of the Church, this ever ought to touch a heart, which as yet retaineth some vein of Christianity, nor should it ever give con∣sent to any preferment, which might appear so disad∣vantagious to her, whom Jesus Christ hath by his bloud, made his lawfull spouse. But besides the de∣triment of Religion, for a third instance, the manifest loss of young men is incurred, who are engaged in Ecclesiastical dignities, not being accommodated with conditions necessary to undergo such a burden: much better were you to send them directly to the house of fools, than to expose them upon the pinacle of the Temple with so little discretion: for in this prison of mad men they should find those that would tie them, thereby to stay their folly; and in these false dignities, they meet with liberty, which freeth them, to precipitate them into all sorts of vices.

Fathers and Mothers, God pardon you, what a torch do you set on fire, to burn and consume the house of God, when blind with affection, and benum∣med in judgement, you so embrace your young apes, that you strangle them with excess of indulgence? To enkindle ambition in the veins of these yong sots, almost at their coming out of the cradle, to set them on the top of the house, over mens heads, with an arm and sling of silver, be they vitious, be they impious and dissolute, be they stupid and heavy as earth, so that they have the breath of favour and oars of silver (as had the rowers of Queen Cleopatra) needs must they be placed on the top of the Turret, to be seen the fur∣ther off. Many times charges of great importance, and superintendence over the heads of so many mor∣tals, are given to men, to whom a silly farmers wife would not have committed the keeping of a cow. The Idumeans enterprize upon the Sanctuary, and these owls endeavour to drink up the Lamp-oyl of Churches, by an ambition of so strong a flight, that it will admit no limits but infinitie. Have you no commiseration of the publick? The Commonwealth is at this day an old song (say you) whereof little care is to be had, we desire to know more than an air, which is that of our own proper interest, since it is an act of prudence well to accommodate ones affairs. Yet are you no whit ashamed of your selves? though silver furnish you with a brow of mettal to regard no man, yet is it a shamefull thing to be desirous to erect in the world the tree of Nebuchadnezzar turned topsie-turvie, where four-footed beasts are above, and little birds beneath? Were it not a goodly thing to see horses, asses, and bulls to neigh, bray, and bellow upon the branches of trees, while the small birds of Heaven, so many celestial spirits, thrust from the rank which wisdom and virtue giveth, go mourning up and down among the thorns of a necessitous life? But we must prefer our children, answer you. Who says the contrary? Raise them on the steps of actions, Christian, solid, and illustrious; cause them to pass through the Temple of virtue, before they go to that of honour; examine their talents, their capacity, their ability, otherwise you do not advance, but precipitate them into publick scorn, into loss of reputation, and danger of soul.

This benefice is not a benefice, but a malefice, but a golden snare, a carcanet of Medea, a Trojan horse, which will produce arms. You, in procuring such an honour, resemble those idolatrous parents, who sa∣crificed their children to the God Moloch (that is to * 1.19 say, to the Sun) and caused them to be burnt alive in the hollow statue of the Sun, not caring to forgo their lives, so they might loose them in those flames and lights, which were the Hieroglyphicks of honour. Oh meer madness! for the life of a flie, which we dai∣ly share with death, to be willing to damme your self and posterity; to stand on the brink of the abyss, and not deign so much as onely open your eyes to behold the precipice?

The third SECTION. Of vocation or calling.

IF you desire to know how you should proceed in the preferment of your children to Ecclesiastical degrees, first understand it is true, Mercury is not

made of all wood. If question be concerning a hus∣bandman, merchant, artificer, or shepheard, we trie the nature of the children, and endeavour to accom∣modate each one of them according to their dispo∣sitions and natural inclinations.

Suppose you it is onely fit for the Church to ex∣pose them at adventure, without election or discre∣tion? What exorbitancy is it to think it lawfull to take the simplest and weakest for Priests and Re∣ligious? What tyranny to divert some with all sorts of cunning and violence, and thrust others on as it were with a fork? To have in all your proceeding no other aim but the benefit of your family, to force the Laws of Heaven to bow under the interests of your house, to give that to God, which you can∣not settle else-where, and if any accident happen, to take that from God which you have given him? Hereby it cometh to pass, that after many years, we behold birds, which change both their plumage and kind upon some very slight cause (not speaking of those who do so by way of counsel and conscience) the scarlet Cloak succeeding the Church Cassock, and the sword the Breviary: wherein they do much worse than the wooers in the house of Ulysses, who being not able to gain access to the Mistress, made their address to the servants. But these forsake the Ladie, whom they have espoused, to court the chamber-mayds; professing all their life time the infidelity of their promises, by the exchange of their habits.

Vocation is most necessary for admittance into the Church, which appeareth in two points: The one ordinary, the other extraordinary. Extraordinary calling hath marks and signs that draw near to a miracle. So we see those who have been great and eminent in the Church, have had some Genius, which hath even in their infancy made the first glimmers of their greatness to appear, drawing the whole world after them with astonishment.

So Moses, though he were a little child, tossed Pha∣raoh's * 1.20 Diadem like a shuttle-cock; which gave a very ill presage to the Aegyptians of their approching ruin. So Elias seemed from his mother to suck fire with milk, which was a prediction his mouth should one day be (as indeed it was) the Arsenal of the God of hosts. So the cradle of S. Epiphanius (as Ennodius * 1.21 relateth) was seen all on fire: A vine in a vision is∣sued out of the mouth of little S. Ephraem: A flaming pillar environed the head of S. Modestas: And it is written that Gregorie the seventh, who from a base extraction was born to the throne of S. Peter, heap∣ing together the chips he found in his fathers shop, who was a Joyner, and arranging them in divers fi∣gures, innocently wrote, without thinking thereon, as a child in sport, Dominabor à mari usque ad mare.

All these callings, and many other of the like kind, are known by extraordinary signs: the rest take the ordinary way, and are observed to be in the good nature of children fit to be dedicated to the Church, which is a matter very considerable. If you ask wherein this good nature consisteth: I an∣swer, It is not in the influence of stars, nor in the Ge∣nius, as Pagans have placed it, nor simply in the beauty of mind, in the goodness of constitution, health, strength, vigour of body, though these may much contribute thereunto; but it appeareth in two principal rays, of which the one is tranquility from passions, by making a reposed calm in a soul, fit to entertain the spirit of God; the other, which ari∣seth from the first, is the docibleness of a mind tra∣ctable, with ease to dispose it self to inclinations of honesty. Behold these two principal heads, where∣on this excellent nature of an inestimable price is established.

And first, forasmuch as concerneth the tranqui∣lity of passions, it is undoubted, that every man being composed of four elements, by consequence draweth along four roots of all the motions thereof, which are, Love, Fear, Pleasure, Sorrow. There is not a man which feeleth not some touch. But as every sea hath his winds, though Mariners observe that some are more tossed than others, so though every soul have its passions, we must confess there be some of them are mildly disposed, and others more roughly distempered. You see men, who from their most tender age tast of strange extravagancies, chol∣ler, harshness, rage, despight, which maketh them to be of a spirit fantastical, uncivil, and obstinate, against which you must ever fight with an armed hand. Others from their cradles are endued with a peaceable soul, as a sea in the time that Halcyons build their nests on the trembling agitation of wa∣ters; they have inclinations to virtue wholly Ange∣lical, in such sort, that they seem to be as it were con∣veyed therein, as fishes in their element. From this repose from passions, ariseth the second condition of good nature, that is, docibleness of spirit, the be∣ginning of education, and happiness of life. For as Divines require in those who receive faith, a certain Religious affection to divine things, discharged and purified from all spirit of contradiction; so in mat∣ter of moral virtue and piety, we stand in need of a tractable soul, which fixeth it self on good instru∣ctions, as the ivie cleaveth to trees and pillars. Go not then about, when you make choice of an Eccle∣siastical man, to tender some Esau, some spirit of the field, who is onely pleased with arms and slaughter of beasts: Take rather a Jacob under the pavilions, a sweet and temperate spirit, that is, wholly disposed to the sound of virtues.

But you, Noble Spirits, who have met with this ex∣cellent * 1.22 nature, I may speak the words of the Prophet unto you: God hath given you a soul wholly cover∣ed with precious stones, enriched with gifts and ad∣mirable talents; he hath enchased it in a body endow∣ed with a singular temperature, as a diamond set in the head of a ring. Much hath he given you, and therefore much requireth at your hands.

The seventh SECTION. Of Virtues requisite in the carriage of a Pre∣late. The first is Wisdom.

DO you demand what God requireth from you? I answer, five principal virtues; which were very wel represented in the ephod of the High-Priest of the old law, as S. Gregorie the great (a) 1.23 hath well observed. This ephod was a certain mantle that covered the shoulders, composed of four colours, of hyacinth, purple, white, and scarlet, the whole wrought all over with threeds of gold, enterlaced with curious work-manship. Why this dressing? why these co∣lours? To teach you seasonably to bear on your shoulders the conditions requisite to your profession. The hyacinth, or skie-colour, signifieth the first thing you ought to do, is, to flie, as the plague of virtues, from these travantly and unworthy spirits, who have no other object in the possession of the goods of the Church, but flesh-pots and play: you are to frame for your selves a soul totally noble, wholly elate, meerly celestial, which conceiveth strong resolutions one day to dedicate it self to God, not in a merci∣nary manner, but with the utmost endeavour of its power. Think not (b) 1.24 (saith S. Ambrose) that be∣ing called to an Ecclesiastical state, you have a slight commission from God. Wisdom requireth you consider the mysteries of Heaven, and that you be highly raised above the ordinary strain. Justice wil∣leth you to stand centinel for the people, who ex∣pect aid from your prayers. Strength desireth you to defend the Tabernacle and Camp of the God of

Hosts. Temperance ordaineth you live with singu∣lar sobriety and continency. You are (said Saint Isidore of Damieta (c) 1.25 placed between divine and hu∣mane nature, to honour the one with your sacrifi∣ces, and edifie the other by your examples. A Priest (d) 1.26 ought to be as a young child, issued out of the school and bosom of the son of God, even as an An∣gel, to govern the Church, not to despoil it, to treat with God in prayer, not to handle a sword. He should be entire in his judgements, just in his resolu∣tions, devout in the Quire, firm in the Church, sober at table, prudent in recreations, pure in conscience, se∣rious in prayer, patient in adversity, affable in prospe∣ritie, rich in virtues, sage in words, upright in prea∣ching, and free in all good actions. Great S. Denis the dreopagite, (e) 1.27 addeth a notable sentence, saying: That he who most especially seeketh to transcend others in holy Orders, ought most nearly approach to God in all sorts of virtue.

For which cause your education should not be in the ordinary way. If you have brothers that are to be bred for the world, let them live in the practice and fashions of the world. O how unworthy are you of the hopes to which God calleth you, if you envie them the favour of the house, and of those, I know not what kind of petty trifles of their own pro∣fession! Your condition is much other, if you follow that spirit which guideth you.

(f) 1.28 Heretofore Monasteries were the chief schools of Kings, and the Great-ones of the earth, to cause them to suck in virtue with the milk: your abode should be in places, where you have engaged your heart and your faith; which best can prepare and ma∣nure you for the life you have chosen.

It is truly a scandal to your profession, if you be ashamed to wear a habit proper for an Ecclesiasti∣cal man, and blush at the standard of your warfare: A shame likewise, if you must be terrified by way of menaces to make you say your Breviary; or if it be needfull to allure you thereunto by I know not what kind of worldly allurements: these verily relish of the unworthiness of a childish spirit. (g) 1.29 See you not that benefice draweth an office after it? that no man should enlarge your conscience by soothing your neglect, and extenuating the obligations you ought to have? If you observe not therein that which you shall be advised by a sage and exact spi∣ritual Father, you may very well most dangerously wander. We are in the Church (saith S. Bernard) (h) 1.30 to sow joy and good example: Joy for Angels, by our devotions and the secret aspirations of our prayers; example for men, by our good works. The mind in the judgement of Philo (i) 1.31 should hold a lit∣tle houshold Consistory, where discharged from sense and the mass of sensible things, it may study the knowledge of it self, and the search of truth.

You should love your condition even from your tender age, and live in the Sanctuary like a young Samuel. The toyl of affairs and secular recreations, is not for you. Leave the onions of Aegypt to sensual souls; your entertainments are in the society of An∣gels. (k) 1.32 Priestly dignity, to which you aspire, requi∣reth a sober gravity, alienated from the ordinary way, a serious life, weight, and maturity. How would you have the people honour you, if you have nothing above them? How should they admire you, beholding vices and imperfections in your manners?

The fifth SECTION. The second virtue of a Prelate, which is Forti∣tude of spirit against avarice and riot.

THe second livery of your colours is the purple, which adviseth you to have a strong and truly noble soul. When there is occasion to defend the glory of God, you must have the arm of God (a) 1.33 and the thundring voice of God, not to gain respect by austere looks and affectations of severity, which ma∣ny times proceed from much infirmity of spirit.

The Councel of Aix saith, (b) 1.34 the Church is a dove, which teareth no man with her tallans, but is pleased sweetly to strike with her wings: The true gravity of a Priest consisteth in manners, not countenance. (c) 1.35 It ought to be a seal of diamond, firmly to pre∣serve the characters of virtue, and sign others by ex∣ample. This fortitude will come upon you, by ac∣customing not to comply with any vice whatsoever. There is not a worse slavery than to put your liberty into the hands of sin. It is a long chain, and hath many gordian knots: cut them resolutely, as did Alexander, and conquer the Kingdom of your pas∣sions, which is of more worth than the Persian or In∣dians. Above all, if you desire to rule, avoid two rocks most dangerous for a Church-man; whereof the one is the thirst ever to get a new, the other lazi∣ness and profuseness in a living already acquired.

Think not to advance your state, and increase the number of your benefices, otherwise it were to seek out God for bread, not for miracles: It were for living to loose well-living, so to become a bad mer∣chant, not a good Pastour. What cause have you of disturbance? A reasonable benefice is enough for you. If you desire to have a shoe over-wide, and not fit for your foot, you deceive your self. Say not you are poor, there can be no poverty where you have God for inheritance, and he whom God all-rich, sufficeth not, deserves to be perpetually poor. This desire which men without ceasing have, to be ever on in∣crease, much villifieth Ecclesiasticks. It affords them as many dependences as they have pretensions. It makes them servilely sooth the passions and vices of those Great-ones, from whom they expect a recom∣pence. It robbeth them of the Kingdom of God, to tie them to the chain of men; who many times are more enthralled than galley-slaves.

It is a great shame to intrude wickedly hereinto, to surprize an honour by the way of a dishonour. Saints have obtained benefices by flying them, and now we must run over the heads of a man and beast, to over∣take them. That brave Architect Vitruvius thought it very strange, that an Artisan presented himself to a great man, to be employed in his own faculty and profession, and thereupon spake a most remarkeable sentence: (d) 1.36 I see Architects who beg, and under-hand sue to be employed: As for my self, I have learned of my Masters, that we should not ask of any man, but ra∣ther be intreated by others, to use care and endea∣vour. He must be blameless, who blusheth not to re∣quire that which may be denied him. What would this noble spirit have said, had he seen Church∣men to debase themselves, not onely to supplications, but to services most unworthy their quality, to ob∣tain cure of souls, which others in solitary wilder∣nesses have fled from, through bryars and thorns, a∣mong savage beasts?

You should imitate that worthy Grecian wrastler, of whom Clemens Alexandrinus (e) 1.37 speaketh, who af∣ter long preparation, going to combate stayed himself on the way, and looking on a Statue of his god, said unto it: I have done my duty, do you yours. Become a good man, and a deserving, and believe God will not fail to give you what shall be most behooffull.

Our great King Robert, made one day upon this occasion, an observation for ever to be remembred, noted by Glaber an ancient Authour. He saith, that a certain Abbot having presented the King with a goodly horse, in imitation of those who fish in giving, and cast out one gift as a hook to draw another, hoped this horse would run so well for his Master, as to bring him home a Bishoprick.

But the good King seeing the sinister intention of this man, sent him to the Church, commanding him to return with his Crozier, which he quickly did, pro∣posing to himself in his mind an augmentation of livings, as his avarice had represented to him. But as soon as the King espied him afar off:

Hold down that Crozier (saith he) you are unworthy of it, since you think to have it from a man:

To the which he obeyed, though much ashamed, and was as one dropped out of the clouds. Our Robert, endow∣ed with a natural goodness, was not willing he should too long suffer this disgrace, but commanded the Crozier to be put into the right hand of the image of our Saviour, which stood directly upon the Al∣tar, then turning himself to the Abbot:

Take (saith he) your Crozier, and learn, that it is he there that gives it you. I would not have you so much as give thanks to a mortal man, but that you freely use it, as the honour of your charge requi∣reth.

What a King? What a lesson?

As for the other rock, which concerneth the use of goods, God forbid, when you come to maturi∣ty of age, that you employ the patrimony of Jesus, the sweat and bloud of the faithfull, in good chear, excess, and play, to fatten beasts, or men worse than beasts, who live but on the sins of others, to raise unto your self a heap of anger in the day of judge∣ments. God forbid, the buildings of an Abbey should fall to decay, the Altars become naked, the images of Saints shivered in pieces, the lamps and lights be eclipsed, the walls weep, and spiders there spin their webs, rats run up and down, and Re∣ligious men famish: that Priests there should pre∣sent themselves before the Altar with ridiculous habits, which tast of a Tavern, whilest I know not what little neece drags silk at her heels, at the charge of the Crucifix.

My God! who will bring back to us a Guy the Gross, that flourished in the time of S. Lewis? I would kiss his ashes, and put them, were it possible, over My∣ters and Crowns. (g) 1.38 This great personage, first a Proctor, married, and father of two daughters, his wife dying, was made Priest; from a Priest Bishop of Puy, from thence Archbishop of Narbone, afterward Cardinal, and lastly Pope. It was expected that his two daughters, which he left to the world, should become great Princesses: but the good Pope made one Religious, with a pension of thirty pounds, and married the other, giving her for full dower three hundred pounds in marriage, to a nephew-Priest, who promised himself many titles, Myters, and Cro∣ziers, of three Prebends he possessed, he took two a∣way, commanding him to content himself with one alone, and by his letters signifying, it was not reason his advancement to the Papacy, which gave him cause of terrour and tears, should minister matter unto his of pride and riot. This act of simplicity is a thousand times more admirable, than if he had made his daughters Queens of Antioch, and turned all his house into gold.

Behold the prudence of S. Augustine, of whom Possidius (h) 1.39 writeth: He used his own kindred as the rest of the faithfull, giving to them, if the case so required, not to enrich them, but to free them from necessity, or at least to make them live in the less penurie.

To what purpose should you be prodigal of an estate whereof you are but a steward (i) 1.40? One part thereof is due to the Ministers of the Altar, an∣other part to the poor (k) 1.41, and a third part to the fabrick. If there be any magnificence in the Church, it belongs to the publick, particulars should be sa∣tisfied with modestie. Why should you pass into the other world, charged with crimes and debts, drawing the malediction of Heaven and earth on your heads?

The sixth SECTION. The third quality of a good Prelate, which is Puritie of life.

YOur third attire is of white linnen, which sig∣nifieth the Angelical purity you should ob∣serve from your most tender years, to carry it with you to the Altar. The Prophet Isaiah (a) 1.42 tel∣leth, they should have their vessels very clean, who are chosen to bear the vessels of God. And for this purpose all the Saints advise us to avoid the daily and familiar conversation of women, who are mani∣fest snares of chastitie (b) 1.43. Believe me, it is one of the most important points of your carriage. A Pre∣late abiding within the limits of this purity, would appear in the commerce with men, as if he came from a Quire of Angels. But as soon as he falleth into a licentious life, he forsaketh the dignity of his character, and goeth out from the throne of Majesty, as the unfortunate Babylonian King, to feed on hay among beasts. The night discovereth not more stars in the Heavens, than it openeth eyes on the earth to observe his most secret pleasures, ears to hearken to his deportment, and mouths to divulge them through all Provinces. He is looked on as a strange bird, that is newly gone out of his element; and God permits, that having sold his soul for hogs-draff, he should still rest unsatisfied, finding each-where a long web of perplexities, and a rouling wheel of immortal punishments. To some he serves for matter of mirth; to others as a shuttle-cock; he gi∣veth occasion of tears to few, of indignation to all. Men for him are wounded with jealousie, and wo∣men, have they never so little honesty, abhor him. There are none but certain Harpies, which (as saith Cardinal Petrus Damianus) flie round about Al∣tars to pillage them, who bear him the like good will, as Ravens do to carrion. He lives in a kind of stupidity of spirit, in continual indisposition of body, disgrace in his temporal fortunes, the fable of the world, the object of Heavens anger, and earths execration. Finally, he resembleth an old sepulcher, that hath nothing in it but stench and titles. Hap∣pily then ponder in your heart, what the life of a Priest ought to be, who is the house of God, of the cabinet, and as it were of the bosom of God. To think a wickedness, is a crime; to commit it, a sacri∣ledge; to bear it to the Altar, is a sin which hath no proper name: there are titles and offices of all vices. Oh how pure should that mouth be, which appro∣cheth to kiss the son of God! Oh how clean should those hands be, which are chosen to purge away the worlds ordures! Oh how chaste ought that heart to be, that is bedewed with the bloud of the Word Eternal!

What a horrour, when a faithless soul from the bed of wolves, goeth out to find the Lamb, and car∣rieth the pollutions of the earth to the Sanctuary of the living God: like to that beastly Empress Messa∣lina, spoken of by the Satyrist (c) 1.44 who bare to the Im∣perial bed of Claudius her husband, the infamy and noisomness of places, which should not be so much as named in the Palace of a Roman Emperour.

S. Peter (d) 1.45 said, we must break all ill thoughts by the exercise of the presence of Jesus Christ, as the waves are dashed against the rocks. And S. Chryso∣stom (e) 1.46 advised Priests to be pure, as if they were in Heaven amidst the Angels.

Chastity, saith holy Zeno, is happy in virgins, strong in widdows, faithfull in the married, but with Priests it ought to be wholly Seraphicall. It is fit he should have little of the body, who is made to ma∣nage and handle the body of the Son of God. It is

fit he should have small commerce with the flesh, who knoweth how to incarnate the living God in his hands. A carnal soul ready to sell his patrimony for a mess of pottage, as the unworthy Esau, is more fit for hogs, than the Sanctuary. They heretofore sacrificed to the Sun without effusion of wine, and those who sacrifice to the Master of the Sun, ought to entermarrie sobrietie with chastitie, which are ever mutually linked together. The banquets of rich seculars (said S. Jerome (f) 1.47) are not so proper for Church-men. It is much fitter to comfort them in afflictions, than to accompany them in their feasts. A Priest who is still present at weddings, is never well esteemed of. He that would behold the modesty which is to be observed at the tables of Ecclesiastical men, let him at the least take a model upon that which Tertullian writeth in his Apologetike of the Primitive Christians. Our table, saith he, hath no∣thing in it which tasteth of sordidness, sensuality, or immodesty; we eat there in proportion, we drink according to the rules of temperance, so much we satiate our selves as is necessary for men, that must rise in the night to offer their prayers to God. We there speak and converse as in the presence of God, our hands washed, and candles lighted, every one reciteth what he knows of holy Scripture, and of his own conceit, all to the praise of God. Prayer endeth the banquet, as it gave beginning thereunto. From the table we go to the exercise of modesty and honesty: You would say if you saw us, it were not a supper we had in hand, but a lesson of piety.

The seventh SECTION. The fourth perfection of a Prelate, which is observed in Zeal and charitie.

YOur fourth mark is scarlet, the sign of the ardent charity and zeal you ought to retain towards the house of God. The buckler of brave Champions of the God of Hosts should be * 1.48 a buckler of fire, and all his souldiers must appear in crimson cassocks. You must early learn to bay the hares skin in the hall, that you may afterward go into the field for the hunting of souls. You must become a wall of fire, to serve as a rampart in the house of God. You must be a star, to run over and enlighten the little world recommended to your charge. You must oppose the power of great-ones, the strength of the sturdy, the wiles of the crafty, the close practises of the wicked, to divert ill actions, advance good, leave unprofitable, destroy vice, plant virtue, chastise delinquents, recompence men of me∣rit, protect the poor, justifie the innocent. You must be an eye to the blind, a foot to the lame, arm and hand to the maimed, a Sanctuary to all the world. You must have as many chains to oblige men to you, as God hath given you means of well-doing. Let the miseries which in a right line would hasten to you, if it be possible, may pass no further than you: Let your house be a shop, where from stones the sons of Abraham may be raised.

The High-Priest heretofore bare the whole world on his habit, of which he was as it were the Ad∣vocate; and you must think, when you are in office, all the world is on your shoulders, and that both the living and dead shall have a share in the duty which you shall render thereunto. It shall be your act to carry the torch of example before the peo∣ple, to instruct men to cure and comfort their in∣firmity, to pray, and sacrifice both for the world of the living, and those whom death already hath di∣vided from our conversation.

What charity think you can you have to be dis∣charged from these obligations? You must learn * 1.49 to love souls, as the most pretious moveables you have in the world, to please your self with the places, where the objects of your zeal are, and the knots of your charge, rather than the Courts of Princes; when you shall have untamed spirits to govern, let them serve as an arrest for your heart, a subject for your industry, an exercise for your virtues. Sathan, in Job, went round about the earth to entrap man; Do you think you do too much, in your opinion, if you advance some steps to save men? Noe was shut up in the Ark with about three hundred kinds of beasts, peaceable among the waves and destruction of the world, be∣cause such was the will of God: and you cannot rest among souls created according to the image of the Divinity, whereunto you are by duty engaged under the peril of your soul. What a shame is it for a Church-man, if he cannot live unless perpetually among horses, dogs, and apes, when God summons him to the charge of souls? Julius Caesar wondred to see men, who dandled apes, having children in their houses; and who cannot but admire, if God allotting you so many spiritual children, you perpetually kiss mon∣keys, play with little dogs, and carry hawks?

The eighth SECTION. The fifth excellency of a Prelate, which is Science and Prudence.

FInally for conclusion, you must sprinkle gold o∣ver your Hyacinth, purple, and crimson. These are the rays and lights of knowledge and pru∣dence, which are as necessary for a Prelate, as the eye for a beautiful body. Discretion (saith S. Bernard is not a simple virtue, but the governess of all virtues, the guide of passions, and the Mistress of manners, which if you take away, virtue becometh vice (a) 1.50. Prelates (as Pope Zozimus assureth us) are the eyes of the Church, and if these eyes be eclypsed, what darkness may we expect over the other parts of the body?

We must not tell a noble spirit, how shameful a thing it is to be in high degree of dignity, and play the golden beast. You cannot brook this affront, the very infants and the dumb world speak, and with a finger shew it you, as did the Ass of which Ammianus * 1.51 writeth, who in the City Pistoia mounted at mid-day into the tribunal of a Judge, & began with much ear∣nestness to bray, as if he had done well to the purpose.

It is a lamentable thing, if for your sake we be enforced to say, that fortune is a daughter of a good house, but that she postitutes herself to servants; that the Church is absolutely wise, but becomes the share of the ignorant. It were a ridiculous thing if on you the fable of the owl should be verified, which telleth, that the small birds had found a rose on the way, and preparing to sing for mastery, they appointed Judges to give it to the victorious, under title of re∣compence for his song, as the prize of his conquest. But as they were disposing themselves for trial, came a mischievous owl in the night, and carried away the flower without singing. Can a noble heart well endure this application should be justly made upon him, and to be held an infamous bird, which hath stollen away the flower due to the little nightingals? Glass will not present the figure objected, if it be not leaded; whatsoever you may have either of lustre or talents, will have no subsistence, if you lead not your head with the strength of endeavour.

Should you have the pome-granate, which is the fruit of Kings, and were you of the bloud Royal, if you have not little bels on the border of your gar∣ment, as had the High-Priest of the old Law, to make the doctrine of the word of God to resound, you

would be despised. Why then do you intermeddle with so many toys and petty trifles of children? You should be an Alexander, who better loveth the launce of Achilles, than the lyre of Paris. You must in these schools be fed with the marrow of lions, as that yong Prince, and not entertain your self with catching of flies. When you grow aged, you should not be in a Bishoprick, like a blind Cyclop in a hollow cave.

The ninth SECTION. The Motives which Noble Prelates have to the duty of their profession.

IN the Name of God, permit you may be recti∣fied in these five virtues, which I have before al∣ledged. The obligations which you have here∣unto, if you well consider them, are very great. First, you see that such as are of the same bloud with you; endeavour to make good what they pro∣fess. Those who manage arms, will part with no∣thing of the glory of arms. The most timorous would be flayed, and piece-meal torn for a poor punctilio of honour, which is oft-times meerly imaginary. They flie among naked swords, flames, and musket-shots, to purchase a little reputation, which hath not ever the reward it expecteth. And you, O Noblemen, that are in the pay of the Sovereign King, whose li∣berality cannot deceive you, in a most honourable profession, and which should not be blemished with remisness, would you spare your endeavour to do something worthy your birth? Do you not behold a flourishing Nobility round about you, which being consecrated to the Church, discovereth marvellous hopes unto us? Some do as the vines of Smyrna, that whilest they are in blossom, bear their fruit. There is nothing now every where but studie and fervour. There are those who win Troy the magnificent, now wholly enflamed, and will you under hatches lie snoring in the ship?

In the second place, see who you are. You are de∣stined to treat the cause of men with God; (a) 1.52 would you betray it? You are selected to be the Oracles of God; would you make your self a weather-cock? you are chosen to be the Ark of the Testament; would you become a vessel of reprobation? You are an Angel, and in hope a little God; would you be an Angel of darkness, and a god of straw? Apply your self whol∣ly to God, to whom you owe all. It is not a matter of discretion for you to do well, it is a point of ne∣cessity. Angels hover over your heads, and men are on every side to observe your actions. Those who are blind as moles in their own errours, have the eyes of a Linx to espie your imperfections. (b) 1.53

Do you not enjoy a goodly honour, when it shall be said of you, that you have a dignity which be∣comes you, as a ring of gold the snout of a hog (as speaketh the Scripture, (c) 1.54 and when the King, who is pleased to take the pain to look into the deport∣ments of men Ecclesiastical, who are of eminent ex∣traction, shall perceive you are in the Church as an unprofitable burden, (d) 1.55 to disgrace the charge which honoureth you, and that all those that name you, when you happen to be mentioned in honourable as∣semblies, will wish a cloud of darkness at noon-day, to cover the shame of their foreheads?

Adde that the Church stretcheth out her arms and intreateth you would not suffer her laurels to wither in your hands, to defile her victories, nor eclipse her lights. She hath seen many miseries, many hath she born, many vanquished; but never felt any wounds more dolorous than those which fell upon her by vice, (e) 1.56 ignorance, and the negligence of her Pre∣lates. That is it which hath opened the gate to he∣resies, which hath fomented infidelities, enlarged impiety, disposed the brows of the wicked to impu∣dence, the tongue to slander, the hands to rapine, which hath darkened the present times with horrible confusions, and which vomiteth upon the times and Ages of posterity. Will you increase these calami∣ties, and with your corruptions make a bridge for the faithless to ruin Christianity? For that perhaps shall be the last scourge, which God will use to pu∣nish the abuses of ill Prelates, and the sins of the peo∣ple in general.

For conclusion I demand, what will become of you in the end at the last judgement of God, under which the Angels tremble, who govern the world? What will become of you, when you shall be accu∣sed to have been a viper in the Church, a scandal to the simple, an ill example to the most corrupt, a fiery torch that would enflame the house of God? Where may one find punishments sufficient to inflict on you, and where can you get members enough to fur∣nish out so many punishments, when the stones and marbles of those places you have possessed, will crack in pieces to flie into your eyes? On the contrary, if you take the right way, which I propose, you shall lead a peaceable life in the security of a good con∣science, rich in honour and ability, honourable in reputation, terrible to the wicked, reverenced by ho∣nest men, fertile in good actions, abundant in infini∣tie of fruits, fruitfull in recompences, prosperous in successes, glorious to posterity, attended on earth with the odour of virtues, and crowned in Heaven by Eternitie.

The tenth SECTION. The examples of great Prelates are very lively spurs to virtue.

TO come to this effect, often represent before your eyes the lively images of so many worthy Prelates, who have flourished through all A∣ges, and behold them as stars, which God with his own hand hath planted in this great firmament of the Church, as well that he there might make his glory shine, as here to prepare a way for our direction. Think sometime within your self what a spirit one S. Nila∣mon * 1.57 had, who died with terrour, as they bare him to the Throne of a Bishop, for which so many other pine away with ambition, he forgoing life with ap∣prehension he should loose his innocency? What hu∣mility in S. Peter of Alexandria, who being the law∣full * 1.58 Successour of S. Mark, would never mount to his chair, but contented himself to sit the residue of his days on the foot-stool, until after his death, the * 1.59 people, having attired him with his Pontifical ha∣bit, did carry his body to the seat which he ne∣ver had possessed? A man truly humble, whose death must be expected to honour his merit, as if honour were incompatible with his life. What zeal in Eustatius Bishop of Epiphanium, whose heart was so surprized with onely notice of the prosanation of a Church, that he fell down dead in the place, ma∣king himself a tomb furnished with the triumphs of his own piety, a thousand times more pretious than gold and richest diamonds? What liberality in Saint Exu••erius Bishop of Tholouse, to give away the gold and silver of his Church, for the necessities of the poor, yea, even to the carrying of the Blessed Sa∣crament in a little basket of osier? What charity in Saint Paulinus, who after he had in alms spent his whole patrimony, which was both very rich and a∣bundant, sold himself, and voluntarily became a slave, to redeem the son of poor widows? What faith in

Saint Gregorie Thaumaturgus, to remove mountains, and command over elements, with as much liberty as a Master over his servants? What power in S. Leo and S. Lupus, to stay Attila, and make head against an Army composed of seven hundred thousand men, drawn from the most dreadful Nations of the earth? What confidence in S. Martin, to submit his should∣ers to receive the fall of a huge tree, on condition he might thereby banish the Idols? Let us lay aside all other actions, which are miraculous: behold the lives of those, who have traced a more ordinary way. Imitate the contemplation of a S. Denis, the fervour of a S. Ignatius, the constancy of a S. Athanasius, the contempt of the world of a S. Hilarie, the generosity of a S. Cyprian, the austerity of a S. Basil, the mildness of a S. Augustine, the majesty of a S. Ambrose, the vigi∣lancy of a S. Gregorie, the vigour of a S. Cyril, the wis∣dom of a S. Remigius. Propose to your self the acts of S. Vedastus, Herculanus, Eleutherius, Medardus, Lu∣cipinus, Nicerius, Romanus, Sulpitius, Pretextatus, Ger∣manus, Amandus, Claudius, Lambertus, Wo••phranus, Swibertus, and many such like. Consider the deport∣ments of S. Thomas of Canterbury, S. Lewis of Tho∣louse; and above all, let not your eye pass over Saint Charles Boromaeus, whom God hath made resplen∣dent in our days, to teach us that no Age is secluded from sanctity.

A man is powerfull to perswade virtue, when in one and the same instant he alledgeth three-score thousand reasons, each of which weigh a Crown of gold (hath one of the best Writers of this Age said:) and so did S. Charles, forsaking three-score thousand crowns of yearly rent for one mornings Mass.

He was a Bishop, who often fasted with bread and water, even in the time of feasts; who every day said his Breviary on his knees, and moistened it with his * 1.60 tears; who celebrated Mass every day with a maje∣sty more than humane; who had two retirements in the year to attend to spiritual exercises; who read the Bible on his knees, sheading brinish tears; who gave alms above his ability; who in person waited on the infectious; who wore hair-cloth under his scarlet habit; who slept on the bare boards; who stirred not out of his Diocess; who visited it on foot; who in his charge made himself indefatigable; who ever was the foremost in good works, in the Church, in the hospital, with the sick, at a Sermon; who was most ex∣act in not giving orders nor benefices, but to persons very capable and of good life; who never did any matter important, without communicating it to the Pope and his Cardinals, whom he as an Oracle, ho∣noured. These are the words of this fore-mentioned Authour, which seem to have very little bulk, but much weight. Is it not sufficient to make you un∣dertake by necessity, that which you cannot refuse without crime? No longer think upon piety as a thing impossible, and do not like ill Physitians, who make the sick despair of health, because they cannot cure them.

These latter Ages are not so barren of good men, who are most excellent plants in the orchard of Al∣mighty God, but that it hath born, and doth still produce plenty of good Prelates, who honour their profession by the merit of their virtues. If you cast your eye upon those, whom the nearness of time doth make us as it were almost to touch, you shall behold a Cardinal George of Amboyse, who was marvel∣lously potent, but employed all his power to the main∣tenance of the Church and State, and never sought to be great, but to oblige inferiours, nor approach to the Court, but there most gloriously to serve his Prince.

A Zimenes, Archbishop of Toledo, who amidst the magnificence of Court, retained the austerity of a Religious man; who was such an enemy of pomp and ostentation, that he hath been seen to visit his Dio∣cess on foot, without train or attendance; who em∣ployed his ample revenues, to make war against Sa∣razens, build Monasteries, found Universities, im∣print those admirable Bibles in many languages, which are the treasures of all the Libraries in the world. A Pool, who was not onely free from the ambitions and avarice of the world, but made as small an account of his body, as of his shirt, since he being violently persecuted by King Henry the Eight, plain∣ly said, that for defence of the faith, he would as willingly disarray himself of life, as of his habit, and would ever be as ready to enter into his tomb, as in∣to his bed to sleep. You shall there behold the four Cardinals of Bourbon, who have equalled their vir∣tues to the bloud of Kings, and the purple of their sacred Colledge. The great Cardinal of Lorain, who hath had the honour to anoint three of our Kings with his own hands, to assist in their Councels, to en∣lighten them with the rays of his spirit, to defend them by his fidelity, fortifying his hand from his ten∣drest youth, for the conservation of the State. In all these pomps he wore austerity under scarlet, he prea∣ched, and ardently cathechized the most simple of his Diocess, he supported, as an adamantine pillar, the faith, which was both in France and Germanie so shaken by the unspeakable disorder of the times: he received the remannts of the English shipwrack with most pious liberality, he instituted Religious Orders, he raised Seminaries, he on every side armed against impiety.

A Cardinal of Tournon, who served four Kings, to wit, Francis the First, Henry the Second, Francis the Second, Charles the Ninth, and that in France and Rome, in all the most important affairs; being likewise Arbitratour of the great Potentates of the earth, with a most remarkeable loyalty, a prudence inesti∣mable, a courage invincible. A Baronius, who hath eternized himself by the endeavour of his hands, a thousand times more honourable than all the Mo∣narchs of Aegypt in their rich Marbles, Pyramids, and Obelisks. But from whence think you have the large blessings of his labours proceeded, but from a most innocent life, which was as the Sun without blemish? but from a most ardent charity, which caused him for the space of nine whole years to visit hospitals morning and evening, to help the necessities of the poor? but from a most singular piety, which wasting his life in the fervour of his prayers, consumed also his revenues with good works in most sacred libe∣ralities?

A Tolet, a Religious man out of Order, who, rai∣sed to the dignity of a Cardinal, employed the most part of the hours of day and night in prayer; living on nothing almost but herbs and pulse, fasting the saturdays with bread and water, and adding a par∣ticular Lent besides the ordinary, to the honour of the most glorious Virgin Mary, as the Reverend Fa∣ther Hilarian de Costa, observeth in the Treatise of his life. Cardinal D'Ossat, writing to Monsieur Vil∣leroy, affordeth him the titles of sanctity, learning, prudence, integrity, worth, fidelity, and saith it is an admirable thing, to see the handy-work of God in raising this great man for advancement of the affairs of France, and absolution of the late King of most famous memory. And the great Cardinal Peron, in a letter he wrote to this triumphant Monarch, dated the second of September, in the year 1595. saith a∣mong other things, speaking of the negotiation of Tolet upon this affair: Besides that he hath renounced all worldly respects, to embrace the equity and justice of your cause, that he hath shut up his eyes from the na∣tural obligation of his Prince, Countrey, Parents, that he hath trampled under foot all sorts of menaces, pro∣mises, and temptations; he hath also taken so much pain both of body and mind upon this treaty, that we much wonder he shrunk not under the burden; com∣bating

sometimes by writing, sometime by conference with those who were opposite, removing and animating such as were stupid, and in sum, carrying this business with such zeal and constancy, that your Majesty could not hope for so many trials, not to say, so many master-pieces, yea miracles, from the most affectionate and cou∣ragious of all your servants. Behold the testimony of a most untainted Prelate.

I say nothing of the excellent Bellarmine, nor of that prime man among the learned, the most illu∣strious Peron, nor of the great light of sanctity my Lord Bishop of Geneva, whose lives are printed. I likewise behold most eminent personages on the Theater of France, who as celestial bodies, have suf∣ficient height and lustre, and are of ability to exercise a pen more powerfull than mine; but since I have put my self upon limits, not to speak here of any man now living, I better love to resemble those, who being not of stature able to affix crowns on the head of the Suns statue, burnt flowers to it, to make their odour mount to the Heavens. So since I cannot crown their merit with humane praise, I will offer up prayers and vows for their prosperities, with all submission due to their eminent qualities. As it is not my humour profusely to enlarge upon the panegyricks of the living, so is it not my inten∣tion to insert all the dead in this little Treatise. If you seek for those, who speak and write purpose∣ly, * 1.61 you will be overwhelmed with a main cloud of witnesses, which will shew you men who have been greater than Kingdoms, who have parallel'd the pas∣sed Ages, edified the present, enlightened the future, and upheld great fortunes by a much greater sancti∣tie. All these will tell you, we have nothing immor∣tal in us, but the riches of the mind, and all this exte∣riour lustre of the world which charmeth the eyes of men, is but a cloud in painting, a petty vapour of water, a fable of time, a dyal, which we then onely behold, when the sun of honour reflecteth on it, and which must in the end be buried in an eternal night of oblivion. Let us now see the great S. Ambrose, whom we among thousands have selected to serve as a model for this first discourse. You therein shall observe a man of a most noble extraction, endowed with admirable parts, and who by necessity of duty, and considerations of charity, was conversant in the Courts of Emperours, and in the infinite per∣plexity of many affairs, which he with all manner of prudence and courage handled, shewing in his deportments a vigorous sanctity, chosen by the Di∣vine Providence, to make as it were the whole State of Christendom most eminent.

[illustration]

E C DOCTORIS AMBROSII

S^t. AMBROSE.

The first SECTION. His Calling.

THe first mark of perfection, which we require in a good Prelate, to wit, Di∣vine calling, is in great S. Ambrose so manifest, that were it written with the rays of the Sun, it could not be made more perspicuous. We may in some sort speak of him, what he said (a) 1.62 of S. John Baptist, That it seemeth God began to prepare him from his mothers womb, to exercise his virtue one day in main battels. First, it is a thing remarkeable, that seeing resolution was ta∣ken in Heaven, to make this Prelate one of the most couragious and eloquent men of the world, he should

be extracted from the Nobility, which is ordinarily full of generosity, being derived from a father, ho∣noured with one of the chief charges of the Empire, which was the Lieutenancy over the Gauls. Besides, he came into the world first breathing French air, which hath been esteemed (according to S. Hierom) (b) 1.63 the Countrey of the most noble and learned spi∣rits of the earth: and Sidonius (c) 1.64 another Prelate hath said, the valour of a French-man extendeth fur∣ther than his life; for he liveth even then, when the soul and body are divided. Secondly, as we have observed before, God many times declared the cal∣ling of infants by sundry presages: It was a great sign of the eloquence of Saint Ambrose, to behold a swarm of bees (d) 1.65 all together settle on his cradle, which was at that time brought out into a court of his fathers Palace, that the child might thereby take a little fresh air. The nurse seeing these little honey-creatures buzze about him, much nearer than she could have wished, coming and going to his lips, was affrighted, and thought to drive them away; but the father, who walking in the same place with his wife and daughter, beheld this pretty sport, made a sign she should hold her hands, lest by exasperating these little creatures, she might provoke their stings. In the end, they peaceably forsook the place, and soa∣red away so high, that they lost sight of them. At that time Ambrose, father of our great Prelate, spake aloud, as with the spirit of prophesie: This infant shall be great. And verily, these bees much better alluded to S. Ambrose than to Plato, who is said to have had the like hap in his infancy. For we must affirm, the eloquence of Plato had honey in it, and no sting: but this of S. Ambrose, besides the exceeding sweetness thereof in peaceable arguments, had, when there was occasion of combate, stings that pierced to the quick.

We may well say, he was the most elaborate in his style of all the Doctours of the Church, especially if we speak of the Latins. For many, as S. Hierom, and S. Augustine, oftentimes dictated with much vehe∣mency of spirit, what came to their mind: but S. Am∣brose did not so much accustom himself to dictate to a writer; for he in composing ever had his pen in hand, (e) 1.66 to polish his works at leisure, and as we say, lick his own bear.

Adde hereunto another sign of his vocation, in the childish sports he exercised without consideration, as did heretofore Saint Athanasius, being then, as he, an infant, which was, to cause his sister, and the children which attended her, to kiss his hand; as the hand of a Bishop, he therein taking much plea∣sure. It seemeth, God sometimes sheweth children as with his finger, the way they should pursue. It is an admirable thing, that ther•• was in Paris found a young begger, called Mauritius, so far transport∣ed in his own fancy, that he one day might become Bishop of Paris, that many offers being jestingly made unto him in his infinite necessity, to move him to renounce the right he pretended to the Bishop∣rick of this ample Citie, it proved meerly impossi∣ble: which a wealthy man perceiving, he so further∣ed him in studie, as in the end he came to the de∣gree, which to himself he had prefigured. What shall we say? God unlooseneth even the tongues of mothers, to speak prophetically touching the state of their children. Witness a most honourable La∣die, named Ida, mother of three sons, Baldwin, Godfrey, Eustace, who one day sporting with her, and hiding themselves under her gown, and many times shewing their heads with diverse pretty child∣ish dalliances, the father casually coming thither in the midst of their play, as they were all covered with their mothers garment, demanded, Who have we there? The Ladie readily answered, not knowing what she should say, It is a King, a Duke, and a Count. So it proved: Baldwin was King of Jerusalem, God∣frey succeeded in the Dutchy of Lorrain, to his fa∣ther the great Godfrey of Bouillon, and Eustace was Earl of Boloigne. God made use of this womans tongue, as of the hand of a dyal, which pointeth out the hours as the great wheel guids it, leaving no memory where it touched. Ambrose did the like at that time, directed by the spirit of God. He made himself Bishop in his own imagination, but when he pursued the way of his proper reason and natural judgement, he therein used all resistance, not thinking he was called thereunto.

In the third place, his calling was altogether ex∣traordinary and miraculous, in that being sent into the Territory of Milan in the quality of a Gover∣nour, Probus, who substituted him, merily said: Go, * 1.67 rule like a Bishop, rather than a President, recom∣mending mildness unto him, that he might apply a le∣nitive to the great rigours that were used in matter of justice. This fell out much otherwise than Pro∣bus and Ambrose had projected, for as the history tel∣leth, Auxentius, an Arrian Bishop, who had much lon∣ger lived than was fit for a man so wicked, some little time before deceased at Milan, the Metropolitan place of his Diocess, and when there was question to pro∣ceed to election, there were many difficulties between the Catholicks and Arrians, every one coveting to create a Bishop of his own party. The emulation which was much enkindled, threatned to draw bloud from the veins of both sides before it could be quen∣ched. Ambrose, as a Magistrate, went thither to re∣dress it. And behold at the same instant a little child, as if it had been an Angel, descended from Heaven, cried out in the midst of the assembly, Ambrose must * 1.68 be created Bishop. This loud voice was seconded by all men, as a voice sent from the mouth of God. The fire of dissention was quenched in an instant, the most outragious courages forsook their arms, and thought on nothing but to raise Ambrose, who was not as yet baptized, to bear him by ordinary degrees to the E∣piscopal chair.

There were some obstacles herein on every side. * 1.69 For first, it was against the laws of the Church to choose a Bishop, since the Councel of Nice condemn∣eth those Prelates, who give Orders to Priests pre∣sently after baptism. Secondly, there was an Edict of the Emperour, which forbade the advancement of his Officers and civil Magistrates, without his express consent. In the third place, Ambrose, who was whol∣ly dedicated to a secular life, had neither vein nor artery which enclined to election. But who can re∣sist the spirit of God, when he is pleased to strike a stroke with his own hand beyond the imagination and judgements of men? All difficulties one after another, were taken away: and this election was ap∣proved, not onely by the holy See, but of all the Ea∣stern and Western Bishops, who much rejoyced and congratulated with S. Ambrose, by their letters. The Emperour Valentinian gave his assent thereunto, boa∣sting, he had sent such good Governours to Provin∣ces, that they were thought capable of Bishopricks. There was no body but Ambrose to subdue, who used all sort of engines and practises to divert this pur∣pose. He, who ever of his own nature was exceed∣ing mild, feigned himself bloudy, causing racks and tortures to bepublickly exercised on offenders, yet needs would they have him for Bishop. He, who was most chaste, made men and women of ill life haunt his house and descended even to the shadow of sin, to flee the light of glory, yet ceased they not to pursue him. He fled, and after he had for a whole night travelled hard, thinking he was far off, found himself at the gates of Milan, from whence he de∣parted. In the end he was forced to yield to the spi∣rit of Almighty God who gave him such evident tokens of his calling. Needs must he undergo the

charge he so constantly had refused, and where hu∣mane prudence looseth its sight, we must suffer it to attend the direction of Eternal Providence.

The second SECTION. A short Elogie of the life and manners of S. Ambrose.

I Will do as Geographers, who put the whole world into a little map. I intend to comprize in few words, that which deserveth a volume, and give you a brief table of the life and manners of this great Saint.

S. Ambrose was a man, in whom it seemed virtue * 1.70 was incorporated, to make it self visible to mor∣tal eyes. Goodness, which cometh to others by studie, seemed his by nature, since he had conse∣crated his infancy by the ignorance of vice, and whiteness of innocency. Others think it ill to com∣mit a sin, and with him it was a great vice to omit a virtue. When he lived in the house of his father, with his good sister Marcellina, he attended to the practice of virtuous actions; they both were as flint-stones, which by proximity make the sparkles flie: so the holy emulation they used in the pursuit of good, enkindled the sensible apprehension of God in their hearts, by a mutual reverberation. He went from this school, as Samuel from the Tabernacle, to bear innocency to the Episcopal Throne, and there to receive dignity. His life served as a rule, his example as a torch, his learning as an ornament, and his very silence as an admonition.

If you regard the virtues, which ordinarily lay the foundations of spiritual building, such as are sobrie∣ty and continency, Ambrose undertook fasts for de∣light, commonly eating but once aday, and that with moderation; he tyed himself to the one for the love of the Cross, and admitted the other by way of necessity. This exercise much served him to con∣serve his purity, which most inviolably he kept even in the very course of secular life, as it was found in his private papers, where he very ardently begged of Almighty God, that he would give him grace to maintain in his Episcopal dignity, the gift of chasti∣ty, which he had afforded him in a secular life. He daily rose from his bed, as the Phenix from her nest, having no other flames, but those of that great Sun, which scorcheth Angels in Heaven, and the most An∣gelical hearts on earth. From this temperance pro∣ceeded his admirable conversation, which gained all hearts. and who so well knew how to joyn the wis∣dom of the serpent with the simplicity of the dove. He was prudent with good men, sharp against the practises of the wicked, yet crafty never. His dis∣course came from him with such an Oeconomy, that the ignorant found instruction therein; the curious, light; the learned, solidity; the eloquent, grace; the vitious, terrour; the virtuous, edification; the timo∣rous, confidence; the afflicted, consolation; and the whole world admiration. There was nothing idle in this man, all spake in him, all tended to praise∣worthy actions; his study was holy letters, his care to express in his manners what he had read in books; he was prompt in all which he did, and had but one hinderance in the world, and that was prayer, which he would never have left, if discretion had not taught him to forsake God to find God. His in∣tentions were most sincere, his negotiations honou∣rable, his silence discreet, his words ever profitable, his heart full of compassion; and although the emi∣nency of his life raised him above all men, yet the sweetness of his nature made him familiar with all such as stood in need of his assistance. As much as his zeal made him terrible to those who durst con∣tend with his Master, so much his mildness render∣ed him communicable to all the world: his exte∣riour employments nothing diminished his interiour, nor did retirement for contemplation hinder the ma∣nage of affairs.

Never was he imperious, but to support the Em∣pire of the Saviour of the world. As he elevated himself towards Heaven, when there was occasion to defend the Church, so he humbled himself to lowest degrees, when he was to condescend to hu∣mane infirmities. Honour always seemed to him the tribute of God, and whilest he lived, he constantly yielded it to his Master, without keeping ought else for himself, but the burden of his ministery. His con∣tinual exercise was to instruct Monarchs exhort peo∣ple, convince hereticks, comfort the afflicted, feed the hungry, cloath the naked, redeem prisoners, entertain pilgrims, shew the way of salvation to the erring, save the desperate from shipwrack, enflame the luke∣warm, cherish the fervent, provide for all those who were under his charge, and punctually to act all the duties of his profession.

He thought all the miseries in the world were pro∣perly * 1.71 his, and bewailed them as his own. He like∣wise accounted the good hap, commodity, and ad∣vancements of his neighbour, were his own riches and enablements, as if in one sole heart, all the hearts of the world were included. There was neither need of Porter nor Page in his house, to give him notice of such as would speak with him, for he was ever ex∣posed to commerce, as writeth S. Augustine. Every one ran to him, nor did any man think the time long in his company; such pleasure they took in his conversa∣tion. The needy who arrived at his house, went not away without relief. From the time he entered into office, he consecrated his whole patrimony to the poor, giving as it were all he had, without reserving so much as himself. Although transitory goods are consumed, faith never is wasted. Faith serveth for alms, and alms fail not to faith. These temporal assistances gave passage to grace and spiritual visits; by which he endeavoured to sweeten, as with oyl, the yoke of Jesus Christ, and adorn with virtue the souls of all his subjects, as his own heart, which was a true receptacle of charity. Never was man more beloved or feared than he; so well did he know to dispence these two different affections. Every man reverenced him as his Lord, and observed him as his father; each man thought he found his countrey, kindred, and accommodations, where S. Ambrose was.

The third SECTION. His Government.

THe Ecclesiastical government of S. Ambrose, is the rule of all the noble actions of the Cler∣gie, as heretofore the sicle of the Sanctuarie was the model of other coins. This great man hath left such an idaea hereof in his writings and manners, that the sensual find therein how to consider their end, the luke-warm wherewith to be enflamed, the imperfect to be corrected, and the most perfect what they may daily learn. His fair soul was as the Ibis, a bird of Aegypt, which buildeth her nest in the palms. It was perpetually conversant in great contempla∣tions, and had no more impressions of the earth, than the supream sphere of celestial bodies.

The principal Maxim on which he established the perfection of his Ecclesiastical life, was that which he afterward digested in writing, in the Epistle to * 1.72 Irenaeus, whereof I have spoken heretofore: Go to Ambrose, (saith he within himself) behold thy self a Priest, and which is more, a Bishop. This condition re∣quireth

a sober gravitie, alienated from the manners of * 1.73 ordinarie men; a life wholly serious, weightie, and solid, in degree of singularitie. It is a folly to think the dignitie of a Bishop consisteth in the exercise of ceremonies, or exte∣riour gestures in publick. How shall he be regarded by the people, who hath nothing in his manners different from the people? What wouldst thou have the world ad∣mire in thee, if it behold nothing in thee above it self, if it find its imperfections there, if after it hath blushed at one vice to which it is subject, it observe thou hast placed it in the throne of dignitie with thee? Since needs I must be a Bishop (a) 1.74 let me seek out a life free from the tongues of the most insolent, and which hath nothing common with the works of weak-ones.

Following this rule, he in his heart detested the practice of those, who enter into charge by sinister ways, and seek after nothing therein but exteriour lu∣stre or temporal commodities: in such sort, that speak∣ing of such a Prelate in the book which he compo∣sed of Episcopal dignity, he saith: (b) 1.75 We behold him with carnal eyes as a great Bishop, and God with his eyes, which cannot be deceived, sees him as a foul leaper. Flesh took the dignity, and the soul hath lost honesty. Flesh predominateth over people, and the soulis a slave to devils.

It is no hard matter to perswade a man to virtue, who believes it to be his principal business. This sage Prelate, having laid the foundations of good and sincere intentions, applied himself so to his charge, that day and night he admitted no other thought. For, leaving the manage of houshould affairs to his brother Satyrus, he addrest himself wholly to Epi∣scopal functions, which he exercised with so much perfection, industrie, and readiness, that Paulinus, an eye-witness of his actions, said, He did as much alone, as five other Bishops.

First, seeing he succeeded a man who had sown dissention, he found it was very necessary often to preach Catholick verities, which he performed with much fruit, but labour indefatigable. For, coming from the order of Magistracy to Episcopal dignity, he must learn that which his first profession never had taught him: and although he might in such neces∣sity have made use of others labours, notwithstand∣ing he, who prudently thought fit, that the doctrine we teach should bud in our hearts, and take begin∣ning in our inventions, to produce it with the more utility, put himself seriously to the reading of Scrip∣tures and holy Fathers that were of his time, to bring forth afterward in his soul what he should speak and observe; for it was the counsel, which he afterward gave to Bishop Constantius. You (c) 1.76 must (saith he) gather together the water, which distilleth from the Pro∣phets, as the clouds from many places, to the end your land may be moistened and watered with their familiar foun∣tains. His preachings were solid, pure, gently flow∣ing, and full of good instructions, and although his discourse had much sweetness in it, yet had he not so suck'd honey from those bees which courted him in his cradle, that he retained not their stings. A nature too flexible resembleth the air, which as soon giveth place to beggers, as Caesars; and as there is nothing more insupportable in a charge than a spirit opinio∣native, so nothing is more fruitless than a weather-cock, who turneth with every wind, and hath no other direction, but the passions of al those that near∣est approach him. S. Ambrose endeavoured to cure all the world, as much as he might possibly, with sweet∣ness, mixing oft-times his own tears with those of his penitents: but if he met with obdurate and rebel∣lious hearts, he took upon him a marvellous predo∣minancy both of authority and eloquence, to tame vice and disarm insolence. Constantine (d) 1.77 a great Physitian observeth, that it is not good to feed those with hony ormilk, who are dangerously wounded; for seldom by this course is death escaped. Our great Bishop made the like judgement upon the maladies of the soul, and never bent himself to cherish by sup∣ple indulgences, those hearts which he saw to be ul∣cered with any malice. His admonitions were not upon idle discourses, for they were seen to be waited on with good effects, and as it were a general refor∣mation in all orders.

(e) 1.78 He began to measure the Temple by the San∣ctuary: for esteeming that the sinews of words are laudable examples, he endeavoured to make a good Clergy, to serve as a mirrour for the Laity. The waters of Jordan heretofore offered homage to the feet of Priests, because they bare the Ark on their shoulders. There is not any thing that gives not way to a good Ecclesiastick, who carrieth sanctity in his heart; his words are thunder-claps, when his life is the lightening. Behold why this great Saint desired no∣thing so much, as to see the house, not of Caesar, but of Jesus, free both from crime and suspition of it. Above all, he strove to extirpate two plagues, fatal and oppo∣site enemies of all sanctity, avarice and lust; not onely desiring the Priests of his Diocess should have chaste bodies, but innocent hands also, and not covetous to draw superfluities to their condition of life. He vo∣luntarily bred them in poverty and frugality, as in the first mansion from whence the glory of the primi∣tive Church proceeded, well knowing, the augmen∣tation of riches doth not equally increase piety.

One would not believe what choice he made in Ecclesiastical preferments, even to the refusing many times of some, who had been very much recommend∣ed unto him, and had nothing to give occasion of re∣jection, but some petty uncomeliness in gesture or exteriour parts; that alone offended the eyes of Saint Ambrose, who was not willing to see any thing but lustre in his Clergy. And although such things seem∣ed idle to many, yet was he no whit in his judgement deceived; for having one day dismissed two for one sole levity in their gate, he found they afterward made shipwrack of faith, and already discovered the unconstant perfidiousness of their mind, in this wan∣ton action of their carriage.

Where reasons could not avail, he employed a se∣vere censure, having no regard to exteriour semblan∣ces, when there was occasions to chastise a crime. Witness one Gerontius, who lived in Milan, under his rule, a man of a spirit most pregnant, and curious beyond his profession, who was not contented to seek into the secrets of physick, and excessively endeavour to polish his tongue, which was very pregnant, but he descended to some folly of Nigromancy. Now this man having an itch of speech, and especially of all that which he thought might make for his advan∣tage, vaunted in some company that he one night had taken one Onoscelides, that is to say, a devil, who ap∣peared to him with the legs of an Ass, and that he had shaved him, and led him to the mill: whether it were that he in effect had seen such a spectre, his brain being already much disposed to illusions, or whether it were through vanity and imposture, that he boast∣ed himself of what he had done, as it oftentimes hap∣peneth to such kind of men, who make tropheys of great crimes, whilest it raiseth them in the opinion of the world above the ordinary sort. These words being related to Saint Ambrose, he very sharply re∣prehended him, and imprisoned him in his own house, in joyning sundry penances for expiation of this fault, most unworthy of a Deacon of the Church of Milan, such as he was. He, who was not capable of such a remedy, fled, and went to Constantinople, with intention to disgrace S. Ambrose, which he did as much as possibly he might. There by the soft insi∣nuation of his wit, joyned to an incredible vain tattle, in stead of seeking out a wholesom playster for his ulcers, he covered them with cloath of gold, in such sort, that through the favour of Great-ones, whom he

had gained, he was preferred to the Bishoprick of Nicomedia. S. Ambrose effectually wrote to Necta∣rius, discovering the impostures of this man, and be∣seeching him for the honour of the Church, and his own proper interest, he would not suffer that Episco∣pal See to be defiled with ordures that astonished heaven and earth. Nectarius employed all his power in this affair, desiring both to discharge his own con∣science, and oblige the Bishop of Milan: but he found this Impostour had by his charms got so much favor, that to remove him was very difficult. The glory hereof was reserved for S. John Chrysostom, who af∣terward removed him, as soon as he was preferred to the dignity of Patriarch of Constantinople.

Behold the severity this great Pastour used in the institution of his Clergy: and as he saw that good Religious men and women served for a great orna∣ment * 1.79 of the Church, so he took a most particular care to entertain them and manure them as worthy plants of the garden of the Church. Never could be rest till he saw a Monasterie erected in the suburbs of Milan, where many holy personages dedicated themselves to a solitary life, to perform on earth what the An∣gels do in Heaven. As for Virgins who took the veil irrevocably to consecrate their virginity to Jesus Christ, he trained them up in the Church, with so much study, fervour, and zeal, that we cannot imagine more. For he dedicated to them the first fruits of his la∣bours, writing in their favour the books of Virgini∣ty, which he composed in the first year of his charge, in a most flourishing and elabourate stile; where to shew the respect he bare to this profession, he spake these words unto them:

My holy daughters, It is not yet three years since I un∣dertook * 1.80 this charge, and you know from whence I was drawn, and the small time given to dispose me to so weighty a burden: notwihstanding, I afford you the fruits of my tongue, since I have learned more in your manners than in books. The flowers which grow in my discourses, come from your garden. It is not precepts for Virgins, but examples drawn from the life of Virgins. Your man∣ners have breathed a certain grace into my soul, & I may say, that all that which my endeavour hath of good odour in it, is derived from your prayers. For who am I but a barren thorn? But God, who heretofore spake to Moses among thorns, will now to day speak by my mouth.

His Sermons and books had so much effect, that Virgins came from the utmost limits of Christen∣dom to be veiled at Milan; which S. Ambrose seeing, he could not wonder enough that he perswaded vir∣ginity where he was not, it not being in his power sufficiently to multiply it according to his desire, in places where he resided (f) 1.81.

He caused the Bishop of Bologna to come unto him, led on by the same spirit as himself, to assist in this design, of whom he one day said in full assembly: (g) 1.82 Behold the fisher of the Church of Bologna, fit for this sort of fish; Lord afford fish, since you have given us coadiutours. And considering that some murmuted at these his proceedings, as if the world should in∣stantly fail by this means, he shewed in a most elo∣quent Sermon, that no one had cause of complaint either married or unmarried; the married, because they had wives, not virgins: the unmarried, because they should find sufficient; and that the carnal, who opposed virginity under pretext of multiplication, re∣sisted by this means the chastity of marriages, where continency is oftentimes exercised, even by necessity: as for the rest, we are not to believe the world will be ruined through virginity: For, admit it should fail, it would ever be a matter more honourable for it to decay by virtue than concupiscence. But it is so much otherwise, said he, that we should lay hold of that, which we see by experience in the Church∣es of Africa and Alexandria, where there are most virgins, they have the greatest number of men.

This employment nothing lessened the assistances, which he afforded for the instruction of those who lived in an ordinary course.

(h) 1.83 Above all, he endeavoured to root heresies out of their hearts, and certain customs of Gentilism, which easily stole in by contagion into the houses of the faithfull. Among other things, there was a Pa∣gan-guise much practised at Milan and other places of Christendom, which was, to celebrate the first day of the year with riots and disorders: a matter much resenting the Bacchanals. He so cut off this abuse by his great authority, that of a day prophaned with so much sensuality, he in few years made it among Christians a day of penance and fasting: which for some space afterward was observed in the Church, until such time as the memory of the superstitions of Gentilism was wholly extinct. Others entertained this foolish belief, that when the moon was eclipsed, she suffered much through the persecution of ill An∣gels, who then endeavoured to exile her; and there∣fore they went out of their houses with many pans and cauldrons, making a loud noise to dissolve, as they said, the design which evil spirits had against the Moon. The sage Pastour made an express homi∣ly against this superstition, wherein he much confoun∣ded those who were infected herewithal. Moreover, it being a custom very ancient, and introduced by the Apostles, to make in Churches, which then were the houses of the faithfull, Agapes, that is to say, bankets of charity in favour of the poor, this by little and lit∣tle was changed into liberties unworthy of Christia∣nity. For sensuality had got such ground, that stifling charity in this action, it rather seemed a sacrifice to the belly, than an act of piety. S. Ambrose abolished all these rites, and cut off such abuses even in the least root, that it was never seen again to sprout in the Church. S. Augustine, in cited by his example, practised the like in Africa, and afterward caused the decree to be inserted in the third Councel of Carthage.

In the proportion that he extirpated vice, he plant∣ed solid virtues in the hearts of the faithfull, whom he ordinarily entertained with these ensuing instru∣ctions, counselling other Bishops to do the like. (i) 1.84 First he sought in all places to form in minds a strong ima∣gination of the presence of God, unwilling that Christian virtues should be petty hypocrisies, guided by the natural extent of humane respect, but rather intentions wholly celestial; and for that cause he said: (k) 1.85 If any man be alone, let him regard himself more than any other in the world.

(l) 1.86 Secondly, seeing the inordinate desire of rich∣es was a petty apostacy of faith, and root of all dis∣orders, he very often did beat on this anvile, labour∣ing by all sort of good endeavours to withdraw hearts from the love of earth, that he might raise them to Heaven. Among other things, you have these excellent words in the epistle to Constantius: (m) 1.87 To enjoy much, is to have a great burden: Great riches are a vain ostentation; the indifferent, for use. We are all Pilgrims in this life; all the business is not in going, per∣fection consisteth in a ready passage. To what purpose do you so torment your self with the desire of boarding? Be wise, and you shall have sufficient. A virtuous man thinks nothing is without him but sin. Wheresoever he sets his foot he finds a kingdom. All the world belongeth to him, because he useth all the world as his own.

In the third instance he made sharp war against the ambitions and vanities of the time, disposing minds as much as he could to Christian humility by this Maxim: (n) 1.88 The greatest knowledge in the world is well to act your part: It importeth not in what condition of life we are, so that we discharge our conscience, and the dutie of our places. We must so use the matter, that our manners may recommend our condition, and not derive their worth from our dignities.

In the fourth place, he used infinite care to main∣tain conjugal chastity in the lives of the married, of∣tentimes shewing by pregnant reasons, that lust (o) 1.89 was a fire, which burnt the garment of the soul, and wasted mountains even to the bottom. And because bravery is ordinarily the nest where dishonesty hatch∣eth, he couragiously opposed profuseness in that kind, using sharp reprehensions against women, vain and dissolute in attyres. One day amongst the rest, he proved they were as in a perpetual prison, loaden with punishments and condemned by their own sentence (p) 1.90 It is pity (saith he) to see a woman, that hath upon the one part a great chain about her neck, and on the other guives about her feet. What matter is it whe∣ther the body be charged with gold or iron, if the neck be alike bowed under a yoak, and the gate bindred? The price of your bands serves for no use, but to give you cause to fear your torments. Miserable that you are, who condemn your selves by your own proper sentence; yea, more miserable than criminals, for these desire no∣thing but their own liberty, and you love your captivity.

In the end, he much recommended charity, justice, government of the tongue, flight from ill company, and modesty in all deportments; whence it came to pass, that he wrote those admirable books of Of∣fices, which set out all Christian virtues with an e∣minent lustre. The good Prelate was in his Bishop∣prick, as the Pilot in the ship, the soul in the body, the sun in the world, labouring in all kinds, and ha∣ving no other repose, but the vicissitude of travailes.

The fourth SECTION. His combates, and first against Gentilism.

IT is time now that we behold our strong Gyant * 1.91 enter into the list against monsters; for armed with weapons of light, he enterprised sundry battails against Sects, vices, and the powers of darkness, which sought to prevail. I will begin his prowess by the en∣counter he had with Symmachus, Governour of the City of Rome, who endeavoured by his eloquence and credit▪ to re-advance the prophane superstitions of Gentilism. This combat was not small, not less glorious for the memory of S. Ambrose, with him that will well consider it, the danger was very great, for the name and design of Julian the Apostata, as yet lived in the minds of many men of quality, and of maligne spirits, who had conspired with time to stifle Christianity, making corrupt and imaginary Deities to re-enter into the possession of the world. This Symmachus was the Ensign-bearer, a subtile man, well spoken, and of great authority; to whom the Emperours had caused a golden Statue to be erect∣ed with the title of The Prime man of the Empire, both in reputation, wisdom, and eloquence: and for that cause he promised himself he had power enough to set God and the devil upon one and the same Altar. He practised to disguise Pagan Religion by his artifices, drawing it from the ordures and bruitishnes thereof chanted by Poets, to give it a quite other face, and represent it with a mask, which he had framed out of sundry Philosophers under the reign of Julian, to render it the less odious. And seeing the times favoured him, by reason that after the death of Gra∣tian, a most Christian Prince, Valentinian, who was an infant under the guardianship of an Arian mother, held the stern of the Empire, he resolved therefore to fish in a troubled water, and by surreption obtained certain Edicts in favour of Paganism, against which S. Ambrose framed most powerful oppositions. I will render you heer the two pleadings in those terms they were pronounced, to confront the babble of a Politician with the eloquence of a Saint.

The understanding Reader shall heet observe two most rich peices of eloquence, which I have rendred rather as an Oratour than a Translatour, to give them the lustre they deserve. I am desirous you may see in the Oration of Symmachus, what a bad con∣science can do, which hath eloquence to disguise truth, and how we must ever judge of men rather by their works than their words.

The Oration of Symmachus to Theodosius and Valentinian the Younger, for the Altar of Victory, exercise of Pa∣gan Religion, and revenue of Vestals.

SACRED MAjESTIES,

SO soon as this sovereign Court, wholly possessed by * 1.92 you, hath seen vice subdued by laws, and that you through your piety have tazed out the memory of passed troubles, it hath taken upon it the authority, which the favour of this happy Age hath afforded, and discharging the acerbities long time retained upon the heart thereof, hath once again commanded me to bring you its complaints in a solemn Embassage.

Those that wish us not well, have hitherto bereaved us of the honour of your audience, thereby to deprive us of the effect of your justice. But I now come to acquit me of two obligations; the one as Governour of the City, the other as Embassadour: As Governour I do a work which concerneth the Weal-publick and as Embassa∣dour I present you the supplications of your most hum∣ble subjects.

Dissentions we have no more amongst us, for the o∣pinion * 1.93 is ceased, that one to become a great States-man, must be particular in his opinions.

The greatest Empire which Monarchs may enjoy, is to reign in the love and estimation of their subjects: so is it also a matter intolerable in those that govern the State, to nourish their divisions to the hurt of the pub∣lick, and establish their credit upon the loss of the Prin∣ces reputation.

We are far distant from those imaginations; for all our care perpetually watcheth for your interest, and for that cause we defend the decrees of our Ancestours, the rites of our Country, and fatal happiness thereof, as a thing which concerneth the glory of your age, to which you gave a new lustre, when you publickly protested never to enterprise any thing upon customs established by our Ancestours.

Behold wherefore we most humbly beseech you to restore the Religion, which so long hath perserved this Empire. If we will remember those Princes under whom we have lived, though divided in Sects and opinions, we shall find some have retained the Religion of their An∣cestours, the other not rejected it. And if authority of the dead suffice not to give us example of what we should do, at the least let us take it from the dissimulation of the living, who in tolerating ancient ceremonies have discovered they had no purpose to condemn them.

We at this present require the Altar of the Goddess Victory may be restored to us, thereon to offer our sa∣crifices. Is there any man in the world such a friend to the Barbarians our enemies, who will oppose this design? The experience of passed times teacheth us wisdom for the future. It is time we avoid so many dreadful pro∣digies which menace as, and at lust yield the honour to the name of Victory, which we have denied to its Divinity. Victory, o Sacred Majesties, hath already powerfully ••yod you, and will yet much more oblige you. It is a work for the wicked, who never have had expe∣rience * 1.94 of its benefits, to hate the honours thereof: but your worth cannot choose but adore that which serves as a favourable support for your triumphs.

Victory is a Divinitie that hath her Altars charged with vows of the whole world. The man is most un∣gratefull, who will dishonour that which he professeth to desire: and were it not an action of justice to afford veneration where it is due, yet ought we not to be de∣prived of the ornaments of our Senate.

Suffer our old age, most sacred Majesties, to leave to posteritie the Religion received from our Ancestours, when we were as yet in our infancie. The love of anci∣ent rites is a marvellous tie. The Emperour Constants, * 1.95 who would have cut it off, therein lost his labour, leaving an example to others to decline severitie, which nothing availed him. We, who are much affected to the eterni∣tie of your Name and Divinitie, must so use the matter, that the succeeding Ages may find nothing which re∣quires alteration in your actions.

Where shall we hereafter swear to your laws and commands, when we shall find all the Altars demolished? Who shall serve as a terrour to the perfidious to arrest their falshood, if they no longer apprehend the Divini∣ties, which they in foregoing time reverenced? We are not ignorant that all this great Universe is filled with the presence of God, and that there is no place of safe∣gard for perjuries: yet it is a matter most important to repress the libertie of crimes by the visible presence and marks of an ancient Religion. This Altar of Victorie is the knot of our concord, and the mansion of publick faith. All that which giveth authoritie to our Decrees, is, that we pronounce them after we have sworn fidelitie upon Altars: and shall we then without difference prophane an Altar so Religious, where we at other times have ta∣ken oath, and prophane it under the reign of Princes, who more entrust the securitie of their persons on the faith of their subjects than force of their arms? But the Emperour Constans is said to have shewed the way * 1.96 thereof. Why do we imitate in a Prince who hath so many other perfections, that, which hath worst succeed∣ed with him, and which he never had done, if good for∣tune had made him see another to miscarrie before him? The faults of a predecessour are not unprofitable to a successour, who from them will derive profit: and oft∣times a man lays the first ground of his virtues on the vices of another. It happened, that this good Emperour foresaw not the discontent which would arise from this action, the matter being as yet new and without presi∣dent: we who now have other knowledges than he, cannot have the like excuses for our errours. Your Majesties shall find in this Prince actions enow worthy of imitati∣on, which you may pursue with more glorie and lesse en∣vie. Neither did he cut away any thing of the privi∣ledges of Vestal Virgins; he replenished the Temples and Ministeries of the Gods immortal with Nobilitie, and was willing coyn should be taken from his coffers, to de∣fray the charges of ancient ceremonies. Coming to Rome he marched through all the streets of this eternal Citie, accompanied with his Senate, most glad to behold him: with a favourable eye he saw the Temples, which bare the titles of our Gods on their foreheads; he enquired the original of their goodly buildings, and applauded the founders. And though he were of a Religion diffe∣rent from ours, yet was he not desirous to make his piety triumph in the extinguishment of that of our Ancestours. He preserved for the Empire its ancient customs, well * 1.97 knowing, that in matter of Religion each manhath his opi∣nion, his rites, and ceremonies; all which require freedome.

The spirit of God, which governeth this great world, hath distributed its protectours to every Citie; and as * 1.98 Heaven hath given us souls, so it every where decreeth, certain geniuses and fatal powers for the government of mortals, which oblige us to regard them more by the profit we derive from them, than any other considerati∣on. All the reasons which we here below have of the Divinitie are obscure, and we cannot know God better than in his benefits, in the memory, and experience of posperities from him derived.

If antiquitie be of power to give any weight to a Re∣ligion, why shall we not maintain a faith established by so many Ages? Why shall not we follow the steps of our fathers, who have so happily succeeded their grand-fa∣thers? Propose to your selves. that Rome at this time presents it self before your eyes, and in these terms speak∣eth to you:

O most excellent and just Princes, who are the true * 1.99 Fathers of the Countrey, have regard to the old Age whereunto I am arrived, in pursuing the piety of my founders: give me leave to exercise the ancient ceremo∣nies, since they are not such as I ought to repent my self of, and to practise my ordinary guises, since libertie is the inheritance of my birth. The Religion of which you would bereave me, is that which hath vanquished the world, that which hath chased Hannibal far from my walls, and driven the Gauls from my Capitol. Have I then been preserved among so many armies and perils, to be now at this day dishonoured by my children? Have I then given Law to the whole world, to receive it in my elder days from simple fisher-men? I yet do not know what they will teach me, but I well understand, the cor∣rection of old age must needs be heavie, and in much danger also to become the more ignominious. I honour the Gods of my Fathers, the Gods of my birth; I beg peace of them, will any man teach me ought else? I think after we have well disputed, we shall find we have all but one and the same God, but that we honour him un∣der sundrie titles. We all live subject to the same stars, we all are covered with the same Heaven, involved all * 1.100 in the same world; let us s••ffer every one to seek out truth according to his poor industrie. God is a great secret: it is no wonder if we endeavour to find him by so many divers ways.

But I leave the disputation hereof to those who have more leisure than I: I come not to give a battel, but to present you with our humble prayers. I would willing∣ly know whether your Majesties coffers have been throughly filled since the small revenews have been ta∣ken from those poor Vestals, which before they enjoyed? * 1.101 They see themselves frustrated of the recompences, which the most avaricious Emperours have decreed them, and in so great a liberalitie of your Majesties, which enrich∣eth all the world, they alone have cause to complain of necessitie.

It is not gain which leadeth them, but the honour to * 1.102 receive the wages due to their chastitie. It is to violate the holy veils, which attyre their heads, to deprive them the ordinary priviledges of their profession. The poor maids ask nought else of you but a bare title of preroga∣tive, as their great povertie hath freed them from sur∣prize of their enemies: for nakedness is that alone which violence cannot disarray. The more you have cut off from their priviledges, so much the more have you rob∣bed them of the honour of their charges, since their vir∣ginitie which is vowed to publick safety, hath so much the more merit, as it findeth the less recompence. God forbid your treasures which are most innocent, should be defiled with prey drawn from the Vestals. The reve∣news of good Princes still encrease, rather from the spoil of enemies than loss of Priests. There is no gain can re∣compence the wrong done them by this decree. The fur∣ther off your dispositions are estranged from all manner of avarice, so much the more is their condition miserable, since they behold themselves so tormented under such great clemency, and frustrated of a happiness, which they cannot lose but with honour. For were they despoiled by Harpyes, we should deplore their miserie in the com∣passion we take of their innocency: but the world, which seeth them deprived of their fortunes under Emperours so reserved and moderate, will say, needs must there be crime on their part, since on yours they behold nought else but sanctity.

Possessions bequeathed to virgins by the last Will of those, who deceased in the devotion they bare to their

Temples, are still withheld: I humbly beseech you, O sacred Pontifes, who sit in the place of justice, why would you make void the publick Religion of your Em∣pire with the succession of a particular? Let dying men make their Wills with all securitie; suffer them to de∣part with this belief, that they have princes not covet∣ous, who will maintain what they shall bequeath in lea∣ving the world, of their abilities. It is your honour and contentment, to see such a happiness in the state which you manage, and likewise to deliver dying men from the disturbances they may have upon the nullitie of their Testaments. Is there any thing in the world that more concerneth the Roman right, than the Roman Religi∣on? How would you have the change of propertie to be called, made upon moneys, which their nature nor the laws have not put into the condition of unclaimed and perishable goods? Legacies are permitted to freed men, slaves are not denied the pettie profits given them by Wils. Is there none but virgins, and those virgins so noble, yea virgins vowed to the exercise of Ceremonies, fatal for preservation of this Empire, must be deprived the possessions, which come to them by lawfull ways of inheritance?

What availeth them to consecrate the chastitie of * 1.103 their bodies to publick safety, to lay the foundation of an eternitie for this Empire on the ayd of their prayers, to tie to your standards, your arms, & your eagles, the favour of heavenly assistances, to present vows powerfull for the whole world, and be bereaved the rights that are de∣nied to no man? It will hereafter be better to serve men than Gods, since we, desirous to make our Empire religi∣ous, make it ungratefull,

It is not the sole cause of the Vestals which I plead, it is that of all humane kind; for the dishonour of their profession is the source of all our evils. The law of our fore-fathers hath honoured these holy maids, and all those that are vowed to Altars, with some small reve∣new, and some very just priviledges. This hath ever been for them maintained, until new ordinances were made by some Bankers, who degenerating from the care of their Ancestours, have employed the revenews dedicated to virginitie on the entertainment of certain Porters. From * 1.104 thence consequently came that great dearth, the effect whereof the whole world hath felt, where lean harvests have deceived the hopes of every Province. Let us not accuse the earth of this disaster, for it is innocent: Let us not quarrel against heaven, for it is just: Let us not complain the worm hath gnawn the ear of corn, or wild oats have choaked the fruits of the earth: Our sacri∣ledges have made the year drouthy, and good reason it were, the whole world should he frustrated of a benefit it hath taken from Religion. Were there any example of our unhappiness in former times, we might say this famin happened by a certain revolution of years, fatal in such accidents. But where shall we find any thing like to this in the passed ages? Where shall we find a sterilitie so knotted together by the malignitie of the ayr? Where shall we find that the people hath been enforced to have recourse to wild plants and accorns of the forrest Dodo∣nia, to satisfie their hunger?

When did our Fathers ever behold a spectacle so cru∣el, whilest they cherished the ministers of Religion at the charge of the publick? When did they ever shake oaks but for hogs? When did they ever pull berbs up by the roots to feed men? When did the fields, which for the most part accustomed enterchangeably to rest, as it were on purpose, fail in one and the same year? Hath this been when the people shared their provisions with the Vestal Virgins? Liberalitie used towards Priests gra∣ced the years revenews, and it rather seemed a remedie against barrenness, than a larges of pietie. Now God in the necessitie of each one avengeth the detention of a be∣nefit, which be would have common for all the world.

Some one will say, it is no wonder, if we refuse to en∣tertain a strange Religion at the charge of the publick. God forbid your Majesties should think the revenews, which were heretofore ordained for the Vestals by the Common-wealth, should at this present be summed up as the coyn of the Weal-publick.

As the Common-wealth is composed of particulars, so hath it no more right over donatives, than it hath on par∣ticular persons. Your selves, who govern all, preserve for each one what appertains to him, and would have ju∣stice extend it self further than your power. Consult, if you please, with your magnificence, and it will tell you, that what you hitherto have given to so many par∣ticulars, is no more a publick good, for the gifts are no longer theirs who bestowed them, and that which was in the beginning a benefit, by custom and succession of time, becomes an obligation. It is to affright the conscien∣ces of your Majesties with panick fears, to think to make you believe you give to our religion, that which you can∣not take from it without injustice.

I pray God the secret assistances of all Sects may fa∣vour your Clemencie, and that this same, which hath so long time ayded your Ancestours, if it can no longer stand in credit with you, may at least keep you in its protection. We will on your Majesties behalf afford it all rights, and it towards you shall continue ordinarie favours. We demand nothing new in requiring the ex∣ercise * 1.105 of a Religion, which hath preserved the Empire for your father (now with the Gods) and which hath blessed his bed with lawfull heirs of his crown. This good Prince being entered into the condition of the Gods immortal, beholdeth from Heaven the tears of these poor Vestals, and well sees customs cannot be violated, which he with so much affection maintained, but by the diminution of his authoritie. Afford at least this con∣tentment to your good brother, received into this celesti∣al companie, as to see a decree corrected, that was not his own. Cover an act under oblivion, which he had never suffered to pass, had he foreseen the discontent of the Senate, and for which the deputies were diverted, which we sent unto him when he was alive, for the fear his ene∣mies had of his equitie. It much importeth the publick to take away a foul blame from the ashes of a good Prince, and justifie the passed by abolishment of the present.

The fifth SECTION. The Oration of S. Ambrose against Symmachus.

MOST SACRED MAjESTIE,

ALthough your Minoritie gave us undoubted signs * 1.106 of the strength of your spirit and constancie of your faith, yet the rank I hold near to your per∣son obligeth me to prevent the surprizes of a craftie dis∣course, which creepeth amongst so many golden words as the serpent amongst the flowers.

It is ill the Governour Symmachus hath employed so fair a tongue on so foul a subject. The deceit of his elo∣quence makes us suspect the weakness of his Gods: for ever a bad cause seeketh that support in words, which in truth it cannot find. Such are the ordinarie proceed∣ings of Pagans, when they speak of their superstitions.

Their Orations resemble those ancient Temples of Aegypt, which under golden Tents lodged Idols of Rats and Crocodiles. But the Scripture teacheth us rather to live than talk, and recommendeth the contempt of lan∣guage to oblige us to soliditie of virtues. That is the cause, why (most sacred Majestie) after I have entreat∣ed you to take my discourse rather in the weight of rea∣sons than number of words, I will answer to three points, which the Governour seemeth to comprize in his speech. The first toucheth the Religion of Pagans. The second the revenews of Vestals. And the third the cause of the famin we have felt. * 1.107

I understand in the first article it is Rome which speaketh with her eyes full of tears, & sighs at her heart, demanding the exercise of Pagan superstitions, because

they are such (saith the Governour) which drave Hannibal from the walls, and the Gauls from the Capitol.

It is to publish the infirmitie of false Gods to defend them in this manner; and better we cannot refute Symmachus, than by shewing him armed against himself. For I ask, if those Gods are the Protectours of this Empire, why they so long time suffered Hannibal to triumph in the ruins of I∣talie? Were their hands so short they could stretch them no further than their walls and Temples? As for the Gauls, what shall I say? I much wonder how the governour doth mention it, since it is in effect a thing most ridiculous, to say, that the enemies being in the heart of the Citie, all these protecting Gods should stand idle in their Temples, in such sort, that all histories have published, the people of Rome owed their preservation, not to the Gods or sacrifi∣ces, which nothing availed them, but to the gagling of a goose, which by good hap awakened the drowsie Centinels, if it be not, that Symmachus, as he is inventive enough, will say, that Jupiter had then forsaken his burning Chariots and thunder-bolts, to shut himself up in the throat of this gosling. But as a lye is ever industrious to hurt it self, did not Hannibal adore the Roman Gods; If it be true, that they always bear victorie in their hands, why did not Han∣nibal surprize Rome with the assistance of those Gods? Or why did not the Romans vanquish Hannibal in all their battels? Why had both the one and the other oftentimes the worst? On what side soever you turn, you must see Gods conquered, who cannot denie their impotencie, if they avow not their nullitie.

It is not Rome then that speaketh in this manner as Symmachus makes it, never gave she him this commission: but she says by the mouthes of her brave Captains:

Romans, what have I done to become a butcherie, and * 1.108 to be imbrued with the bloud of so many creatures? Victo∣ries abide not in the entrails of beasts, but the arms of soul∣diers. It is not the death of oxen hath made me subdue Mo∣narchs, but the valour of men. Camillus by force of arms displayed my standards on the Capitol, which your ceremo∣nies suffered to be taken away. Attilius exposed his life for the trial of his fidelitie & safety of the Weal-publick. Sci∣pio Africanus found triumph, not among the Altars of the Capitol, but in the field of battel. If you desire to see the goodly effects of your superstitions, behold Nero, who was the first that drew the sword of Caesars against the Christi∣ans; behold Emperours monethly made, and unmade like the moon; behold those who were the most zealous in your cere∣monies, whereof some having shamefully enthraled the worlds Empire to forreigners, & the other promising them∣selves great victories under the favour of their Gods, have found servitude. Was not there then an Altar of Victorie in the Capitol? From whence I pray proceeded so many sini∣ster accidents, if good hap be divinely destined to those who obey it? I much repent me of these barbarous ceremonies, though too too late. You that have made me so many times become red with bloud, suffer me once to be ruddie with shame, that I so lightly have been deceived, to the end I may not blush to see my self converted with all the world. And tell me not, I pray, that I am old. Decrepitness is not in years, but in manners. It is never too late to learn ones salvation, and it is ever seasonable to do good. Shame is but for those, who have neither power nor will to correct their vices.

Come & learn a new warfare of Christians with me, which * 1.109 in earth beareth arms, and in Heaven its conquests. From whom should I learn the mysteries of Heaven but from him that made it, and not from man, who doth not so much as know all that passeth in his own house? Whom would you have me confide in the matter of belief we ought to have of God, but God himself? How shall I take you for a Master, since in the seeking to teach me, you confess your own igno∣rance? You say, God is a great secret, and must be sought by many ways: but he who once hath hit on the readie way, why should he amuse himself with crooked turnings? You seek him blindfold, and we find him in the light. You enquire him with suspicions and minds disturbance, and we find him in the revelation of the wisdom and veritie of God himself. It is a malicious stupiditie to think we can serve this sovereign Master in all sorts of Sects. As there is but one sun in the world, so is there but one truth. It is a streight line which is to be made, but one way. All other superstitions are crooked lines, that have as many semblances as defects. How can we reconcile our Religions, you adoring the works of your hands, and we accounting it an injurie done to God to worship the works of men? How shall we have one and the same God, if you adore stocks and stones, which our God instructeth us to trample under foot? To whom shall we entrust this veritie in such a great diversitie of opinions, but to a Man-God, whose words were no other than prophesies, wisdoms, and verities; his life innocencie, sanctitie, and virtue; his actions power, wonders, & miracles in all parts of the world? What secret spirit set the Cross on the top of your Capitol? You demand proofs of the Divinitie, and I shew you the conquest of a world, under the feet of one crucified: the less this action hath of man, the more you behold therein the work of God.

Then Symmachus, you redemand the Altars of Idols, of * 1.110 whom? Of a Christian Emperour, whose heart is in the hand of God, & arms are for the protection of faith. Would you have him employ his chast and innocent hands, which he never lifted up but to the living God, to repair the monuments of a false Deitie? In what Historie find you, that the Pagan Emperours have built Chappels and Temples for us? And think you our great Prince hath less zeal for truth than his Predecessours for falshood? They have made all the parts of the world ruddie with our bloud for defence of their Idols: but God hath blasted their purposes, and overthrown by his power, what they would have raised by their injustice. Would you that a Christian Emperour should from the ru∣ins of your Gods, restore for you, in contempt of his own Religion, objects of sin on the Altars?

But let us a little further see the sequel hereof. They de∣mand * 1.111 revenews for the Vestals, for they cannot otherwise serve their God. Behold how couragious the Gentiles are. We have imbraced and maintained our faith in povertie, in∣juries, and persecutions, and they crie out their ceremonies cannot subsist without their own interest. It is a shamefull thing to sell virginitie, and to fix themselves on profit through the despair of virtues. What armies have these maids to maintain, who have such care of their revenews? Their number exceedeth not seven, which they have chosen amongst so many thousands to guard a mercenary virginity, that still reserves a night to make experience of marriage. Is it for this they must be mytred? for this scarletted? for this endowed with a thousand priviledges, and entertained in magnificent Caroches, with a train of Princesses to brave it through the streets of a Citie? Behold the holy virgins and poor maidens of Symmachus. By my consent let him re∣flect the eye of his understanding and bodie on the state of our Religious women: he shall see companies replenished with honour, integritie, shame-facedness, who know how to use the gift of virginitie as it ought to be. They wear no a∣tyres nor pompeous myters on their heads, but a poor veil which borroweth its worth from the lustre of their chastitie. They know not what belongs to attractives of beautie, for they have renounced all curiosities of the world. Purple and superfluitie never dwels in their house; but rather fasts and austerities. It is not their custom to flatter, or sell at the price of honour and priviledges the puritie of their bodies, but much otherwise, they do all as if their sufferings were to be the recompence of their virtues. Never will they learn the trade of setting their flesh to sale to the best bidder, & sell the abstinence from pleasures to them that offer most: well knowing the first victory of chastitie, is to triumph over gree∣diness of riches, which are the most dangerous baits of sin.

If we should give great revenews to all the maids which are now readie to receive the veil, what treasures would furnish out such an expence? And if they dare affirm that none is due but to Vestals, is it not an impudence to be desirous to deprive Christian virgins from goods given in favour of virginitie, as if to be Christians were to be the less chast, or as if the Religion they profess, were on their fore∣heads a mark of infamie? Who can endure under the reign of most Christian Emperours, customs, which are onely tol∣lerable in the Empire of Nero's? Symmachus demandeth

moneys of the Common-wealth for entertainment of his Vestals, & we by certain modern laws have been bereft the successions, which we might expect from particulars, without making complaints; so temperate we are in our proceedings. Some Ecclesiasticks likewise have been made to renounce their patrimony, to be freed from Court-obligations, and en∣joy the priviledges of the Church. Were this done to the Pagans, they would cast flames from their mouthes, for how could it be but very troublesome to purchase the vacancy of a holy ministery with the prejudice of his means, & in con∣secrating himself to the safety of the whole world, to have necessitie for recompence in his house? Wils are valid in fa∣vour of the ministers of Idols: Be they never so profane in superstition, so abject in condition, so prodigal of their ho∣nour, they are not frustrated of what appertains to them by this article. There be none but the Priests of the living God, who are deprived of common right, because they are vowed to service of the publick. Their manners most innocent are not punished, but their degree; as if it held the rank of crime: That which a superstitious widow bequeatheth to sacrificers of Idols, shall remain inviolable; & what a Religious widow leaves by Will to a Priest of the eternal Religion shall be condemned as a nullitie.

I speak not this now by way of expostulation, but to shew how I suppress lawfull complaints by strength of patience. They answer, they touch not legacies given to the Church in general: And I require of them, who ever hath robbed the riches of their Temples? Christians have heretofore been be∣reaved their substance, which is the marrow of men; of ayr, which is common to all living creatures; of earth, which none ever have denied to the dead, since even the enraged sea hath oft-times sent back the bodies of our Martyrs to the haven, as it were to give them burial. I notwithstanding say not a word, nor do I now accuse any man of crueltie, the condemnation whereof the victorie of the Cross hath gained of the whole world. But if a piece of land be seized from a Southsayer, who contrary to all Religion holdeth wealth gi∣ven in favour of Religion, all the world must be summoned with an alarm. If they will possess lands by our examples, let them imitate the charitie we practice for the publick. Where are the prisoners they have redeemed? the poor they have fed? the banished they have succoured? Of all our wealth we nought retain but faith, the rest is spent in the necessities of men, and they think it reasonable to employ it in massacre of beasts, to see if they have not the death of Princes in their entrails. Is not this insupportable?

Yet notwithstanding their Gods, saith he, have revenged * 1.112 on our heads the injurie done to their Priests, by a general famin. That is it which hath caused us to eat roots & barks of trees, which hath made us shake oaks to eat acorns, and envie hogs their food, since we unjustly detain the suste∣nance of men. Behold great prodigies, and which never hap∣pened to the Gentiles. To whom doth Symmachus think he tels these fables? To us, who know the Pagans were hereto∣fore so accustomed to eat acorns, that for this onely cause deified their oaks? It is possible their Gods should appoint that for punishment, which these have so oft bought with price of incense & bloud of beasts? And then, what injustice were it that for a small handfull of sacrificers & South say∣ers, who pretend to be interessed herein, these cruel Divini∣ties should take revenge by a general desolation of all Pro∣vinces? How should they so long stand with arms across in the ruins of so many Temples, fallen on their Idols, to come to contest with us, upon a just retention of the superfluities of a silly Sacrificer? Behold now alreadie how many years the Pagan Sect hath been declining, hath any one seen for all this the river Nilus overflow to revenge what hath passed at Rome, since the conquest of Egypt hath been tolerated under the arms of the Cross? And if these Gods have this last year avenged their injuries, enforcing us to feed on a∣corns, why this present year, when the contempt of their name is much greater than ever, have they not made us eat thorns? The living God be praised, who busbandeth good & evil for us with a most wise oeconomie; we have seen the billocks smile under the beautie of vines, we have beheld the earth curled with ears of corn, and to yield us so plentifull harvests, that they have given joy to some, admiration to o∣thers, and satisfaction to the whole world. Yea we can say, the last year hath not been so barren, but that it hath left in many Provintes marks of the fruitfulness thereof. The Gauls have been more enriched than ever, the Sclavons have sold corn which they never sowed. The Grisons have had such store that they have given to their neighbours more cause of envie than compassion, and those who were friends in a great scarcitie, are made enemies in large fer∣tilitie. Genova and Venice have tasted the commodities of the fruits of autumn, and in a word, the year hath not been every where so prodigious as the eloquence of the Governour

Nay, these objections are more tolerable, but that which we cannot endure nor dissemble with your Christian Ma∣jesties, is, that the Gentiles out of braverie dare affirm, they offer sacrifices to their Gods in your names, and they pro∣tect you. Who hath given them this commission? Who makes them account your connivences so criminal, as to take them for commandments? Let them guard their defenders whom they have hitherto ill protected, and let them not presume their Gods, being so feeble for preservation of those who yield them such honour, should be able to shield others who handle them with such contempt.

Yet must we (saith the Governour) defend the ancient * 1.113 Religion. Nothing is elder than the truth, which hath seen the world in its cradle; but a false Religion, the more anci∣ent, the more dangerous it is, since it is an antiquitie of er∣rours, the presumption whereof time doth augment. Virtues are not measured by the ell of times, but the greatness of perfections. If we in like manner will consider the works of nature, we shall find the last to be the best.

The world, as you say, was nought els in the beginning, but an assembly of little atomies, which flying in the ayr wove one within another the web of this great work: after∣ward it became a confused mass, full of horrour & darknes, till such time, as the great work-man came to separate the elements, adorn the heavens with lamps, & distend light o∣ver the face of this universe. Then the earth disarraying it self, as from a robe of sorrow, seemed to admire the sun it had never seen. Consider you not how the day at its birth disperseth darkness, with a little dawning of brightness, which insensibly increaseth till the time it discovereth it self in the glittering light and fervours of the mid-day? Behold you not how the moon, which monthly waxeth and waneth, now seemeth lost to us, then shows her self as it were a little threed, streight she becomes a well-formed crescent, afterward in the proportion that she looketh on the sun she is augmented, and lastly composeth for us a great globe of light? Know you not how the earth was before rude, not having felt the iron coulter, but so soon as the husband∣ly labourer began to exercise a power upon it, and cultivate the barren plains, they took upon them a much other aspect? for mollifying in this tillage all which was wild, they spred out unto us grapes and harvests, where we before had seen nought els but nettles and bryers. Se you not also how at the point of the first season the earth is wholly bare, then in the springs progress it beginneth to produce certain small flowers, which are as the eyes of the medows; but eyes, which spring and eclipse in one and the self-same day; and the best of all is kept for the latter season? And we our selves, when we are born, are nothing else but a little lump of flesh, which is pollished with time, and changed into a more lively infancie, but still ignorant, untill our soul be per∣fected by time, for then we leave the rudiments of minoritie to become perfect men. Behold the course which Religions have held in the world: all that which is gone afore, hath been either in part gross and carnal, or deceitfull and lying, by the cunning of the devil. Grace in latter times hath set a seal on the work it began from the birth of the world. If things the less antient be the less perfect, we must prefer the Chaos before the sun, acorns before harvests, March-violets before grapes, and say we have done ill to cover the earth with silver, and change shepherds cottages into the gilded marble of the Capitol.

But they are industrious to wound themselves crying up the ancient ceremonies. If this antiquitie be so recom∣mendable, why did Rome yearly change her Religion, as certain birds do their feathers, introducing daily some innovation in matter of superstitions, derived from the same Nations they by their arms had captivated? Shall it be said she will open her Temples to all the Idols of the earth, and onely shut them up from heavenly veri∣ties? He now here speaketh to us of a victory, which is a gift of God, and not a Goddess: a gift, which is often∣times granted to the strength of legions, and never allot∣ted to the impietie of superstitions. They will set up their Altar in the midst of a sovereign Court, and say, that maugre our opposition we must swallow the smoak of their sacrifices, hear their goodly musick, and receive the ashes of their prophane victims on our forehead, where we bear the character of the living God. Is it not absolutely to out-brave Christianitie under most Christi∣an Emperours? What shall now presently be done at Court by the better part of the Senate which is Christian? It will be necessary that they either in refusing untruth oppose your Edicts (if the unhappiness of the time should make them favour a request so uncivil) or by connivency confess their sacriledge. I will speak freely, it is not an Altar they desire to plant in the Capitol, but rather faith, which they now would tear from our hearts. If you command such a sin, you commit it.

The Emperour Constans, of most worthy memorie, be∣ing as yet but a Catechumen, would not so much as be∣hold this Altar, for fear that by the sole sight thereof his conscience might be polluted: he caused it presently to be taken away, and will you restore it, to make them hereafter swear to your laws before false Gods? What need have we of such an oath? The Senat is assembled by your commands, and for you. To you they ow their fidelitie and conscience, not to Gods who are of no account. It preferreth you before their own children, but not be∣fore their Religion; then is it a charitie much greater than your Empire, to preserve that pietie which safe∣guards your Empire. All here below in the affairs of men is most uncertain, all therein is transitorie; and great for∣tunes, which have the sun in their face, have ice under foot: we possess nothing immortal but true Religion, which raiseth us above Monarchs to equal us with An∣gels. Pompey, after he had measured three parts of the world, more by his triumphs than travels, is defeated, re∣pelled, banished, and dead on the frontiers of the Empire, by the hand of a half man; and the earth which seemed too scantie for his conquests, was seen to fail him for a tomb. Cyrus, after he had overcome so many potent ene∣mies, after he had equalled his victories to his clemen∣cie, is vanquished by Tamaris, and his head, crowned with so many laurels, served as a matter of sport for a woman, who drencht it in a leathern sack filled with hu∣mane bloud, saying unto him, Satiate thee with that thou so much hast desired. Hamilcar, Captain of the Carthaginians, one of the most superstitious Princes that ever the earth bare, after so many tropheys, threw himself through despair into the fire, which be had cau∣sed to be kindled for the sacrifice of his Gods, seeing it had no whit availed him. I will not say Christian Em∣perours shall ever be fortunate in temporal affairs: but I dare affirm, that if we must needs be afflicted as men, al∣though we should loose all, yet never ought we to forsake Religion, as Julian that unhappie Monarch hath done, who joyned the ship-wrack of his faith to the loss of his Empire.

Most sacred Majestie, remember that all the men of the world fight for you, and that you should combat for * 1.114 the true Religion, without which, there is neither pro∣tection in the Empire, nor safety in the world. If there be occasion to resolve a matter of arms, make address to your Councel of War; but if a point of Religion be hand∣led, you neither ought nor may determine it without the advise of your Bishops. You should see them all here as∣sembled, if the practice of our enemies had not prevented them. I answer for all, and in the name of all I implore the pietie and justice of your Majestie, that no man here may pretend to abuse your Minoritie to the prejudice of your soul. Take heed how you precipitate any thing in this affair, without imparting it to the Emperour The∣odosius, whom you have hitherto honoured as a father.

If you do otherwise, I will not conceal that from you which my profession commandeth, and conscience obligeth me to tell you: You will come to the Church, but you will find no Bishop there; or if you do, it will be but to resist you. What would you answer him, when he should tell you, The Church hath nothing to do with your libe∣ralities; since you have adorned the Temples of Genti∣lism, you shall never build the houses of Sion; the Al∣tar of Jesus Christ cannot endure your offerings, since you have erected Altars for Idols. Your word, your let∣ter, your signet, is the work of your heart, of which our enemies make a trophey, and which you cannot denie. Your service can no longer be pleasing to the Saviour of the world, since you are engaged to false Divinities. Think you to serve two Masters? Think you it will be lawfull to entertain Vestals to the contempt of Religious women of your name and belief? You have no more to do with Bishops, since you have preferred Sacrificers to the devil before them. What answer you to this? That you have committed a fault pardonable in a child? Every age is perfect for Jesus Christ, and there is no infancie, but is replenished with God, if it render it self not un∣worthy thereof.

Little Infants heretofore have confronted executio∣ners, and born away the crown of martyrdom, and will you betray our altars? What will you answer to your good brother the Emperour Gratian of holy and glori∣ous memorie, when he shall say, My brother, I never thought my self vanquished by mine enemies, whilest I left the Diadem on your head. It hath not grieved me to die, since my place was replenished with so good a Succes∣sour. I freely have forsaken the Empire, being perswa∣ded the ordinances I made in favour of Religion would remain inviolable to posteritie. Brother, these are the spoils I gained over divels: these are my titles and tro∣pheys; these the pledges of my pietie and monuments of my faith, which you have since taken away from me by your Edicts. What may an enemie do more? You have violated what I so piously ordained for the glory of Al∣tars. It is a thing which he who so unworthily bare arms against me, never did. The sword which transfixed my bodie did me less hurt than your Edicts: more sensible am I of the wound you impressed on my cinders, than that which the Tyrant fixed on my members. The one took from me the life of bodie, but this bereaves me the life of memorie and virtues. On this day it is that I loose an Empire, since I see my self deprived of that I always pre∣ferred before Empires, and that it is taken from me af∣ter my death, yea by the hand of a man, whom I infinitly loved. Brother, If you have done this of your own ac∣cord, you have condemned my faith; and if by constraint, you have betrayed your own: and being wholly dead as I am, you make me die in you, who are of my self the better part. On the other side, think you not but that the Emperour Valentinian your father, whose name you bear, will say unto you, Son, you have done me much injury, so to condemn my conscience, and to believe I ever had any purpose to tolerate superstitions so prejudicial to Christianitie. I punished all crimes that came to my knowledge: But never have I heard of an Altar of Victorie nor profane sacrifices to be made in a Sovereign Court before the eyes of all Christendom. Dear son, you greatly dishonour the respect which is due to the memorie of your father, if you think he oweth his Empire to superstition, and not to his Religion.

I heartily beseech God, most Sacred Majestie, if this affair be so important, as you see, to your conscience, to the memorie of your father, the ashes of your brother;

your own reputation, to the judgement which posteritie shall give upon you, and that which transcendeth all o∣ther considerations, to the universal Church, you now do what you will one day wish to have done, when we shall appear before the eyes of the whole Church Triumphant, to the end your actions may be free from reproof, as my counsels are of Repentance.

Who could resist these thunder-bolts? Symma∣chus reputed at that time, as we have said, the prime States-man in the Roman Empire, both for eloquence and authoritie, was ashamed of his superstition, and in pleading for Victorie lost it, well shewing it was nothing, since it had so little countenanced a man who ascribed so much unto it, which made Ennodi∣us * 1.115 say, Symmachus in pleading for Victorie, hath lost the victorie, left by him in the hands of S. Ambrose, plainly discovering, the Goddess was very unreason∣able, to forsake those that served her, and gratifie such as offended her.

The triumph of S. AMBROSE in the conversion of S. Augustine. The sixth SECTION. Of the Nature and Condition of this great Man.

I Come to one of the most remarkable actions of * 1.116 S. Ambrose, resplendent in the conversion of great S. Augustine, the benefit whereof heaven and earth have divided, since this incomparable man serves as a support for the Church Militant in the revoluti∣on of so many Ages, and an ornament to the Church Triumphant through all eternitie. It is none of the least gifts from Heaven, that our Am∣brose was selected for an affair of so great import∣ance, that the whole world might find its interests therein, and for a victorie so eminent, that were the Angels as capable of envie as they are repleat with charitie, as they have loved the Conquest, they would envie the glory thereof. Happie voice of thunder, which made this hind to bring forth her young, af∣ter the throws and agitations of twelve years. Hap∣pie the Beseleel, who so well hath laboured in the * 1.117 Tabernacle of the living God. Happy the David, who hath subdued this Rabbath, so many times sha∣ken * 1.118 by the arms of great Captains. Happy the Alex∣ander, who with the sword of the word hath cut so many Gordian knots, as held this great Spirit in di∣sturbance. I here defie all the Amphitheaters which have been in the world, and so often mixed the bloud of men with that of Lyons and Elephants: I call those spectacles, which so many times have at∣tracted the eyes of Cesars. I desire the jousts, tur∣neys, races, chariots, triumphs, and those magnifi∣cences may be proposed, which have drawn bloud from all the veins of the world, to establish superflu∣itie; and that it may be considered whether there were ever combat comparable to this which I pre∣sent; where a holy Bishop entred into the list against the prime Spirit of the world, where God sits en∣throned, where the Angels, ranged before the gates of Heaven, contemplate, where three parts of the world expect the issue of this duel, where Heaven applaudeth, the earth trembleth, where hell frown∣eth, the divels houl to see themselves deceived of their prey: Where the victorious Ambrose triumph∣eth, where the unvanquishable Augustine yieldeth, to be confirmed by his fall, to be raised by his abasing, fortified by his weakness.

Gentle Reader, I intreat you, as my purpose is no other but to enchase in this historie of S. Ambrose the acts of Ecclesiasticks, who to him are so parti∣cularly tied, that you think it not strange if I more at large distend my self upon a narration so proper for the subject which I treat of: I doubt not but the manner wherein I shall unfold it will render it wholly new, as the greatness thereof made it honou∣rable, and the utilitie still seasoneth it with some particular delight.

That we may here well observe the ways of the * 1.119 Divine providence in the direction of mans salvati∣on, and the strength of S. Ambrose quickened with the Spirit of God, it is necessarie to consider the powerfull oppositions, that so long time hindered this conversion, which I reduce to three principal heads, Curiositie, Presumption, and Carnal Love.

It is a dangerous pestilence in matter of Religion to take the wind of Curiositie, which ordinarily fix∣eth it self on the fairest Spirits, as it is said Canthari∣des rest on the beautifullest Roses. A great train of vices is ever waited on by a great curiositie, and he that can well know them, shall find, that to be Curi∣ous is to forsake innocencie, to draw near to sin, ac∣cording to the eloquent S. Zeno, Curiositie maketh * 1.120 more offenders in prison than learned in schools; and ever the desire to know what God would have hidden, is paid with ignorance of ones self.

Were I a Painter or Pourtrayer, to represent to youth the vanitie of this passion, I would make the statue thereof on a moving globe; what can be more inconstant? I would give it wings; what is light∣er? I would sprinkle it all over with eyes; what more watchfull? I would fill it with ears; what more industrious in the discoverie of so great a di∣versitie of things? I would give it a mouth perpetu∣ally open, for it is no sooner filled by the ear, but emptied by the mouth. I would lodge it at the sign of Vacuum; for what is more vain? I would afford it spiders webs for attyre; what is more frivilous? For table and viands, smoke; what more slender and hungry? I would ordain for officers many lyers and impostures, for such people are its favourites: Before it a certain itch of generall knowledge should go; for it is the ordinarie messenger thereof: at the right hand Opinion, for it is it which deceives her: at the left, Tattle, it is that, which instructs her: after it I would set disturbance of Spirit, igno∣rance, and miserie; for it is its inheritance in the end.

Augustine, as it were from his most tender years, made himself tributarie to this false Deitie; and in∣stead of taking the way of true Religion by the paths of holy simplicitie, needs would he dive into it by reasons and humane subtilities, which alienated him as far from truth as they were of power to encline him to vanitie.

He had a great wit as it were like a prodigie, and * 1.121 it seemeth that Africk which produced him, would then bring forth nothing which was mean: It must still bring forth huge monsters, or mightie men. He notwithstanding was over-sharp, being not as yet in his consistence, but resembled the glass of a mirrour, which cannot render forms till it be leaded. So this admirable wit through want of the virtue of humi∣litie, which is in men as lead in the mirrour, spark∣led with a vain presumption, which bringeth with it no other profit, made more illusions in eyes than it left good examples in manners. Now to specifie the qualities of this excellent nature, we must consider it from his tenderest years; since the disposition makes it self soon appear in children, as the rose in his bud.

Augustine began almost as soon to studie as to live; * 1.122 for he burned from his younger dayes with a thirst of knowledge, so eminent, that he surmounted his age. And for a note of his curiositie, which alreadie rather aimed at splendour than utilitie, young

though he were, he resembled the children, who make themselves Preachers before they can read. Nothing was he pleased with the elements of Gram∣mar, which he reputed too low for his spirit. He would climb without a ladder, and scorned to learn of a Grammarian how the name of Aeneas was writ∣ten; but rather readily disputed whether Aeneas had been at Carthage or not. Greek to him was a pill, which he swallowed not but by constraint, and bet∣ter loved he to speak Latine by custom, than the rules of Donat. All his delight was to know fables and histories, to weep over the disastrous loves of poor Dido, and to be angrie with Juno with so good a grace, that composing thereupon certain imitati∣ons of Virgil, he ravished his Masters and compani∣ons in the school; which made it well appear he one day should become more fruitfull in strong ima∣ginations (which are the principal pieces of elo∣quence) than religious in choice of words and po∣lished in periods. His father, who discovered the riches of this wit, had an ardent desire that he might swim in a large water, for he as yet studied at Oran a pettie village of Africk, having not the means to go to Carthage.

Want of enablements is many times a counter∣poize to the height of the understanding: but in depressing it he crowned it, since generous studies (according to Plines saying) are lodged at the sign of povertie, and ever sciences are refined by necessity. Augustine, not then knowing what God would do with him, sought to make a fortune, and such like∣wise was the will of Patricius his father, who more desired to see him eloquent than chast. Behold why the good man, who had much courage and little means, strove beyond his abilitie to send his son to Carthage, the most famous Universitie of Africk. As great fishes are found in great seas, so Augustine had there wherewith to satisfie the passion of his curiosi∣tie, and measuring his own strength with that of o∣thers, saw matter enough how to make his wit be held in esteem, to which he alreadie had sufficient in∣clination.

He was not contented to exercise himself in elo∣quence, which in all Ages hath had much reputation among arts, as the fullest of noise and that which unfolds it self with most ostent; but he throughly studied Philosophy and all other sciences, which are of power to make an able man, in such sort that there was not then a book which he had not with undefatigable industrie perused. The poor young man went like a torrent whither passion transported him, and where the blast of ambition breathed, ha∣ving the feeling of Christianitie in him very faint: for much better he loved to measure the world in his vanitie, than possess it in the love of God; not as yet considering the difference between a good countrey swain, who at full ease enjoyeth the fruits of his tree, whereof he knoweth no other secrets, and a Philosopher that observeth the ten Categories, and remains almost famished, not tasting of any one fruit. His curiositie failed not to transfer him to judicial * 1.123 Astrologie, wherein he imployed much time, still thinking to discover some secrets in this labyrinth of fools, which better knoweth how to involve minds than give them satisfaction. He happeneth one day to confer with an old Physitian, a man grave, and of great capacitie; who seeing him passionately in love with these books of Astrologie, said, Son, if you desire to transcend others in any profession of the world, rather take eloquence, in which, as far as I can see, you have greatly profited, than to stick on vain sciences unworthy of your judgement. Verily I will herein confess the ignorance of my youth, I have been as much addicted to judicial Astrologie as ever was any man of my condition: for I not onely sought the satisfaction of my mind, but the establishment of my fortune. Notwithstanding I have wholly left it, through a most undoubted knowledge that we cannot resolve on any thing so∣lid therein. Judge you what you please, but ever a well rectified spirit will be ashamed to profess a sci∣ence not supported by reason, and which knows al∣most no other trade but to deceive. This at that time somewhat startled him, but stayed not his pur∣pose, so much he loved to deceive himself, and so much he resolved to find out this secret in the end. But ever as he waded further, not discovering firm land, he found trouble in a barren labour, and much vanitie, where he to himself proposed some soliditie.

Nothing confirmed him so much in contempt of this folly, as the discourse he had with Firminus, a young man of eminent qualitie, sick of the same dis∣ease that he was: for the curiositie of Astrologie ceased not to incite him, as being born of a father an Astrologer, a man of honour, but so curious, that he calculated the very horoscope of cats and dogs that were whelped in his house; yet so little had he profited therein, that at the same time his son came into the world, a servant of his neighbours being delivered of a male-child, he foretold, according to the rules of his art, that both of them being born under one same constellation, should run the like fortune: which was so false, that this Firminus his son being born of a rich family, progressed far into the honour of the times, whilest the son of the servant, notwithstanding the favours of his goodly horo∣scope, waxed old in servitude.

This young man, who made this narration, though convinced by his own experience, still suffered him∣self to be beguiled with his proper errour, so difficult it is to take away this charm by force of reasons. Our Augustine by little and little dispersed those va∣pours, both by the vivacitie of his own excellent judgement, and the consideration of others folly. He was likewise solicited to attempt a kind of ma∣gick, much in request among the heathen Philoso∣phers of that Age; which was to seek predictions from the shop of the devil, by means of the effusion of the bloud of beasts, and sometiemes of children. But God who as yet held a bridle on this uncollect∣ed soul, and would not suffer it to be defiled with those black furies, gave him in the beginning so much horrour upon all these proceedings, that a Negromancer promising him one day to bear away the prize of Poesie in a publick meeting of Poets, if he would assure him of a reasonable reward, he an∣swered, that were the Crown to be given in those games of profit, of gold wholly celestial, he would not buy it by such kind of ways, at the rate of the bloud of a flie. Which he partly spake through some sence of pietie, partly also by the knowledge he had of the illusion and barrenness of such sciences.

He was much more troubled about the Articles * 1.124 of Faith; for though from his childhood he was edu∣cated in Christian Religion, under the wings of his good mother S. Monica, yet suffering his mind to mount up unto so many curiosities, he had greatly weakened the sence of pietie. And being desirous to penetrate all by the help of humane reasons, when he began to think on the Christian maxims of Faith, he therein beheld much terrour and abyss. He came to this condition, that not content with the God of his forefathers, who taught him holy counsels, and the universal voice of the Church, he put himself up∣on masterie, now wholly ready to shape a Divinitie on the weak idaeas of his own brain.

The Manichees at that time swayed in Africk; who having found this spirit, and seeing he might one day prove a support to their Sect, they spared nothing to gain him: and he being upon change, it was not very hard to bring him into the snare. This Sect sprang from one named Manes, a Persian by

birth, and a servant by condition, who having in∣herited the goods of a Mistress whom he served, from a good slave which he had been, had he remained in that siate, became by studie an ill Philosopher, and a worse Divine; for mingling some old dotages of the magick of Persians with other maxims of Christianitie, partly by the help of his purse, partly also by an infinitie of impostures derived from his giddy spirit, he made himself head of a faction, pro∣testing he was the holy Ghost. His principal folly consisted in placing two Gods in the world, the one good the other bad, who had many strange battels. The bodie, as he said, was the creature of the evil God, and the soul a portion of the substance of the good, enthraled in matter. And following these principals, he gave a phantastical bodie to the Savi∣our of the world, esteeming it a thing unworthy of the Word to be personally united to the flesh, which he held in the number of of things execrable. Behold the cause why those who were ingulfed in this Sect, made shew to abstain from meat and wine, which they termed the dragons gall.

I do not think that ever Augustine fully consented, to all the chymeraes of Manes, which were innume∣rable, but at the least he relished this Sect, in the opi∣nion it had of the original and nature of the bodie and soul, and in many other articles, even to the be∣lieving (as himself witnesseth) fables most ridiculous. Great God! who thunderest upon the pride of hu∣mane spirits, and draggest into the dust of the earth those that would go equal with Angels! What E∣clypse of understanding! What abasing of courage in miserable Augustine! To say that a man, whose eye was so piercing, doctrine so eminent, and elo∣quence so divine, after he had forsaken the helm of faith and reason, became so abandoned, as to make himself a partie of the Sect of a barbarous and phan∣tastical slave, who in the end for his misdeeds was flayed by the command of the King of Persia; as if the skin of this man could no longer cover a soul so wicked.

Behold whither curiositie transporteth an exorbi∣tant spirit. Behold into what so many goodly gifts of grace and nature are dissolved. Behold now the Eternal Wisdom besotteth those, who forsake him to court the lying fantasies of their imagination.

A second obstacle went along with this extrava∣gant * 1.125 curiositie, to settle him fixedly in errour, which was the presumption of his own abilities, an insepa∣rable companion of heresie. He that once in his brain hath deified crocodiles and dragons, not one∣ly adoreth them, but will perswade others, that he hath reason to set candles before them, and burn incense for them. It is a terrible blow, when one is wounded in the head by his proper judgement, whose ill never rests in the mean. We come to the end of all by the strength of industrie: Stones are pulled forth from the entrails of men, the head is opened to make smoak issue out: but what hand hath ever drawn a false opinion out of the brain of one presumptuous, but that of God? All seemeth green, saith A istotle, to those who look on the wa∣ter; and all is just and specious to such as behold themselves in proper love. Better it were, accord∣ing to the counsels of the ancient fathers of the de∣sert, to have one foot in hell with docibilitie of spirit, than an arm in Paradise with your own judgement.

Augustine, not to acknowledge his fault, would * 1.126 ever maintain it, and thought it was to make a truth of an errour, opinionatively to defend it. He had that which Tertullian saith is familiar among here∣ticks, swellings and ostentation of knowledge, and his design was then to dispute, not to live. Himself confesseth two things long time made him to tum∣ble in the snare: the first whereof was a certain com∣placence of humour, which easily adhered to vicious companies; and the other an opinion he should ever have the upper hand in disputation. He was as a little Marlin without hood or leashes, catching all sorts of men with his sophisms; and when he had overcome some simple Catholick, who knew not the subtilities of Philosophie, he thought he had raised a great trophey over our Religion. In all things this Genius sought for supereminence; for even in game where hazards stood not fair for him, he freely made use of shifts, and were he surprized, he would be augry, making them still believe he had gained: as a certain wrestler, who being overthrown, undertook by force of eloquence to prove he was not fallen. This appeared more in dispute than game: For ha∣ving now flattered himself upon the advantages of his wit, he was apprehensive in this point of the least interest of his reputation, and had rather violate the law of God, than commit a barbarism in speaking, thereby to break the law of Grammer, to the pre∣judice of the opinion was had of him. It was a crime to speak of virtue with a solecism, and a virtue to reckon up vices in fair language. When he was publickly to enterprize some action of importance, the apprehension of success put him into a fever: so that walking one day through the Citie of Milan with a long Oration in his head, and meeting a rogue in the street who confidently flouted him, he fetched a great sigh, and said, Behold, this varlet hath gone beyond me in matter of happiness. See, he is satisfied and content, whilest I drag an uneasie burden through the bryers, and all to please a silly estimation. The ardent desire he had to excel in all encounters, alienated him very far from truth, which wils, that we sacrifice to its Altars all the interests of honour we may pretend unto: and besides it was the cause, that the wisest Catholicks feared to be enga∣ged in battel with so polished a tongue, and such un∣guided youth. Witness this good Bishop, whom ho∣ly S. Monica so earnestly solicited to enter into the list with her son, to convert him: for he prudently excused himself, saying the better to content her, That a son of such tears could never perish.

Besides the curiositie and presumption of Augu∣stine, * 1.127 the passion of love surprized him also to make up his miserie, and to frame great oppositions in matter of his salvation. But because this noble spirit hath been set by God, as the mast of a ship broken on the edge of a rock, to shew others his ship-wrack, I think it a matter very behovefull to consider here the tyranny of an unfortunate passion, which long time enthraled so great a soul, to derive profit from his experience. The fault of Augustine proceeded not simply from love, but from ill managing it, af∣foarding that to creatures, which was made for the Creatour. Love in it self is not a vice, but the soul of all virtues, when it is tied to its object, which is the sovereign good; and never shall a soul act any thing great, if it contain not some fire in the veins. The Philosopher Hegesippus said, that all the great and goodliest natures are known by three things, light, heat, and love. The more light precious stones have, the more lusture they reflect. Heat raiseth ea∣gles above serpents; yea among Palms, those are the noblest, which have the most love and inclination to their fellows. These three qualities were eminent in our Augustine. His understanding was lightning, his will fire, and heart affection. If all this had hap∣pily taken the right way to God, it had been a mi∣racle infinitely accomplished: but the clock which is out of frame in the first wheel, doth easily miscarry in all its motions, and he who was already much un∣joynted in the prime piece which makes up a man, viz. judgement and knowledge, suffered all his acti∣ons to slide into exorbitancy. As there are two sorts of love, whereof the one is most felt in the spirit, the other predominateth in the flesh, Augustine tried them

both in several encounters. First he was excessively passionate even in chast amities; witness a school∣fellow of his, whom he so passionately affected. He was a second Pylades, that had always been bred and trained up with him in a mervellous correspon∣dence of age, humour, spirit, will, life, and condition, which had so enkindled friendship in either part, that it was transcendent: and though it were in the lists of perfect honesty, yet being as it was too sensu∣al, God who chastiseth those that are estranged from his love, as fugitive slaves, weaned his Augustine, first touching this friend with a sharp fever, in which he received baptism, after which he was somewhat lightened. Whereupon Augustine grew very glad, as if he were now out of danger. He visited him, and forbare not to scoff at his baptism, still pursuing the motions of his profane spirit: but the other beholding him with an angry eye cut off his speech with an ad∣mirable and present liberty, wishing him he would abstain from such discourse, unless he meant to re∣nounce all correspondence. He seemed already in this change to feel the approaches of the other world: for verily his malady augmenting, quickly separated the soul from the body. Augustine was much troubled at this loss, insomuch that all he beheld from hea∣ven to earth, seemed to him filled with images of death. The country was to him a place of darkness and gyddy fancies; the house of his father a sepul∣cher; the memory of his passed pleasures a hell: All was distast, being deprived of him for whom heloved all things. It seemed to him all men he beheld were unworthy of life and that death would quickly carry away all the world, since it took him away whom he prized above all the world. These words escaped him, which he afterwards retracted, to wit, That the soul of his companion, and his, were expreslie but one and the same, surviving in two bodies, and therefore he ab∣horred life, because he was no more than halfe a man, yet would he not die, for fear the part of his friend, which yet lived in himself, might perish.

All this well declared he had great dispositions to love, and that to what side soever his affections ten∣ded, they never would be with mediocrity. It seemed now all things conspired against him to kindle a coal in his veins, which the revolution of many years could not extinguish. First, as nothing is more dan∣gerous to foment this passion than ill example, he li∣ved in a place, as contagious for chastity as the North wind for plants. Saluianus a great Writer speaking * 1.128 of Africk, which bred S. Augustine, saith, It was the Country of loves, and that it was as strange a man should be an African without being an African, as to be an African and not lascivious. Secondly, these dangers so frequent, which seemed to require much retention found liberty enongh in the house: for the tears of the blessed S. Monica were not as yet suffi∣cient to stay the course of insolent youth, since the father little cared: for that he having one day beheld his son in the baths, spake some free words, which served rather as a spur for sensuality than a motive to continency. In the third place, as the eye must be open to direct occasions, so he therein used so little study, that having a soul as it were of sulphure, so much was it disposed to take fire, he hastened to throw himself into the midst of flames.

He haunted the company of Libertines, who are the most dangerous enemies to chastity, and being of a humour very gentile and pleasing, gave love, and reciprocally received; and although he had none, needs must he counterfeit. When he came to Car∣thage, about the sixteenth year of his age, there was not a street where love spread not his nets. He as yet knew not well what it was to love, and yet desired to be beloved, and grew weary of living in innocency. He hated his liberty, and sought a hand which captived him. He went to Theaters there to behold loves re∣presented, where he servently was enamoured of the passions of imaginary lovers: yea, his very eyes hunt∣ed in the Church after objects of concupiscence, by glances too too dissolute; for which he confessed to have been very particularly chastised by the hand of God, since he mingled the sanctity of the place with the enterainment of the profane actions. This ulcered soul threw it-self out of its compass, and took wind and fire on every side. It seemed to him he must excel in vice as well as in science. He made himself more vicious than he was, to appear more gentile in the eyes of evil men, and there remained for him nothing more as it were in this point but one shame, not to have been sufficiently impudent. In the end he fell into the snares he desired, and was involved in admirable labyrinths, where ever the end of one love was the beginning of another.

This life so carnal was a perpetual hinderance to the visitations of God. For as Platonists say, stars cannot exercise their virtue on the sphere of fire: So all the light of good counsel had no force in the flames of such a passion. His spirit was depraved by sensuality, allured by the bait of worldly beauties, and darkned with the obscurity of his blindness, in such sort, that the light of the spirit of God in him found no place, If there be a vice in the world which ty∣eth the soul to flesh, and makes it stupid to the feel∣ing of God, it is this foul sin: and although it be not wholly incompatible with science, yet never accorded in the wisdom of heaven, which is more conversant in the tast of heavenly things, than in knowledge.

The seventh SECTION. Dispositions towards the conversion of Saint Augustine.

BEhold the principal impediments of the con∣version of S. Augustine: but God, who insensi∣bly wove this work, and draws good even from the evil of his elect, caused him to use the remedy of the scorpion that stung him. For as he pursuing his ordinary curiosity, plunged more and more into solid sciences, he began by little and little to distast the doctrine of the Manichees, finding it very strange, that a man should make all kind of dreams and sot∣tishness to pass for verities, under the false seal of the holy Ghost. Those of his faction, who saw him wa∣ver, oft lent their helping hands, too weak to support him; and knowing their own inability, promised quickly to cause the prime man of their Sect to come from Carthage, who should disengage his mind from so many doubts, and afford him ample satisfaction.

They failed not in their promise: for in few * 1.129 days the false Bishop Faustus arrived; who was as the sword and buckler of the Manichees. He was a man of a fair presence, had charms in his tongue, and many attractives in his conversation, able to ensnare the most subtile wits. He instantly set himself to frame some studied discourses upon the maxims of his su∣perstition, which were heard with great applause by the whole faction. For indeed he was an Eagle among Parrets. These men supposing that Augustine was fully setled in all their apprehensions and appro∣bations, asked him what he thought of the Bishop Faustus, and whether he were not an incomparable man? He very coldly answered, he was eloquent, and throughly able to tickle an ear: but his malady daily encreasing, could not be cured by a man, who per∣petually speaketh, and shuffles up the matter; and threfore besides his goodly sermons, there was need of a particular conference, where he might fully dis∣charge

his mind. Faustus endowed with a natural curtesie, thinking he had to do with a young spirit, whom he with words would amuse, accepts the disputation; where instead of finding a crane he en∣countred an eagle, who handled him roughly from the beginning of the battel. This man made him pre∣sently appear to be of base gold, and that this tal∣lent was no other, than that he was an indifferent Grammarian, had read some orations of Tully, the memory whereof were very fresh in him, some epistles also of Seneca, with a mixture of poesy, but in the books of his own Sect, he had very little know∣ledge. All that which made him esteemed in pub∣lick consisted in a grace of language, which pro∣ceeding from a fair body was exposed with the more exteriour pomp. Behold that which now through∣out the world authorizeth an infinite number of men, who are in the opinion of ignorant, or the indifferently knowing, as flying fires in the air. When Augustine put him upon the solstices, equinoctials, eclypses, the course and motion of stars, wherewith the books of Manes are replenished, this man then found himself in a new world: but yet was wily; for he was not as the sottish Manichees, who promi∣sing evidence upon this doctrine, made as many slips as steps: he roundly said, his curiosity had never born him so far that way, and that he better had loved to contemn such things than study them. As for the rest, the doctrine of Manes depended not up∣on the knowledge of eclypses, since never had it been eclypsed. Augustine perceived his Doctour was not * 1.130 wholly ignorant, since he understood at the least how to acknowledge his own ignorance, but was otherwise absolutely distasted with the divinity of the Manichees, seeing so little support in Faustus, who was the primepillar of the faction; and the snare which he would make use off to stay him was the beginning of his liberty. It was to make a banquet of flowers and songs for one almost famished, to seek with words to give him satisfaction.

In the end, after a long abode in Africk, he resol∣ved to go to Rome, not so much to find verity in its source, which as yet he proposed not to himself to be in the Church of Rome, as to dissolve the irksom∣ness of teaching Rhetorick at Charthage, the youth whereof was extreamly insolent: His friends propoun∣ded unto him for his aim a far other air, much dif∣ferent successes from his former labours, and ano∣ther recompence for his merit; adding besides, it was a sweeter climate, where young men held within the lists of good discipline, yielded their Masters full satisfaction. It was the strongest bait could there∣in be found; for the sweetness of his spirit was in∣compatible with the boldness of the schollars of Car∣thage, which was the cause that secretly stealing away from his good mother, who could not with her tears hinder the voyage, he set sail for Italy, and came to Rome. Behold him in the chief Theater of the world, where he began to shew himself, and entertain an Auditory in his Chamber, to be known, and forth∣with appear in publick Courts, where he learned, the students of Rome gave their Reader good words, but the time of payment being come, they inconside∣rately many times forsook the Teacher to exercise elsewhere the like deceit, which infinitely displeased him: and seeing that by good fortune a Rhetorician was sought after for Milan, he handled the matter so, by the assistance of some Manichees whom he yet courted for his own ends, and by the favour of Sym∣machus Pretour of the City, that this charge was stayed for him.

Behold him then at Milan, where the providence * 1.131 of God had marked out his lodging. Behold him in the field of battel, where he was to be assaulted. Behold him in the Amphitheater, where he should be disarmed. Behold him in the sphere, where he must be illuminated.

As we have beheld the strong oppositions which stopped up the way in the salvation of this great soul, let us now see the means God used for his conver∣sion. Here is an admirable spectacle, and worthy the consideration of noble spirits, since of all the works which God doth out of himself, nothing hath so much manifested his wisdom, bounty, mercy, and power, as the conversion of men. We observe in the effects and experiences of nature, that one thing draweth another in foure special manners, to wit, sym∣pathy, motion, heat, and secret atraction. Sympathy say I, or natural conformity; so the stone tendeth down∣wards into the bosom of the earth, because it there finds reposes: Motions; so the hammer drives the nail, and one man leads another by the hand: Heat; so the sun raiseth up the vapours of the earth, after it hath subtilized and heated them: Secret atractions; so amber draws the straw, and the adamant wyns the iron. The spirit of God, ingenious and powerful in our conversions, makes use of these same four at∣tractions to draw us to him. Attractions, which are able to gain the harshest, disarm the most savage, heat the remissest, and startle the stupid. Attraction of sympathy, consisteth in good nature and sweet in∣clination, which the Master-workman▪ giveth us for virtue. Attraction of Motions is seen in the conuersion of good company, where examples of piety sweetly stir a soul to that which is its good. Attraction of heat is insinuated by the word of God, which is a sword of fire to make strange divisions between the soul and flesh. Se∣cret attraction, is a most particular touch from God, who taketh men by ways hidden, interi∣our. and extraordinary. So, many times we see con∣versions infinitely strange. Such was that of S. Paul * 1.132 who felt a blow in the bloud of S. Stephen, when he shed it by so many hands as he gave consents to the furie of his executioners. Such was that of the Jugler Genesius under Dioclesian, who in a full Theater scof∣fing at the ceremonies of Christians, at the same time became a Confessour of the faith, and Martyr of Je∣sus Christ. Such was that of Mary, neece of Abraham the Hermit, who was gained to God in a supper which she had made in a bourdel. Such likewise was that of Irais a poor maid-servant of Alexandria, who * 1.133 as the Samaritan going to draw water, left her pit∣cher to run to Martyrdom, and joyning her self to Christians which were led to execution, bare away the first crown. Such was that of a thief, who for∣sook his wicked life, beholding a yound Monk that ate wild roots, and another converted, having seen Paphnutius the Hermit drink a glass of wine who ne∣ver * 1.134 had drunk any before, and then onely did it by a resignation of his own judgement and proper will into the hands of another who commanded it: The thief at that instant thus concluded. That if this holy man were so enforced by virtue for an action so contrary to ordinary life, he himself might well by the help of resolution undertake the same pre∣dominance over his passions, and of an ill man be∣come a Saint, as he did. Briefly, such was the con∣version of Parentius, a man of quality, who exer∣cised a place of judicature in a City of Italy: For having seen a young swyn-herd, who taught his companion a trick to make his hogs readily run into into the Sty, which was to say to them: Enter hogs into the sty, as wicked Judges into Hell; and then perceiving that these beasts readily obeyed this word, he laughed heartily; but presently changing all his mirth into serious actions, he set himself to ponder on the difficulties he found of salvation in the great cor∣ruptions of justice, and was so touched, that he tooke the habit of Franciscans, where he so far proceeded in * 1.135 virtue, that he became General of the Order, and vi∣sited bare-foot all the houses of S. Francis. It must be confessed there are great priviledges of Gods provi∣dence in such affairs. I am willing briefly to recite exam¦ples

of these secret attractions, because they are very famous; and I set before you the four sorts of conver∣sions, by reason they will not be unprofitable to make us discover the singular oeconomy of God in that whereof we are now about to treat.

The Saviour of the world used all these pieces in the conversion of S. Augustine, as we may observe in his progression. For first, concerning attraction of sympathy or natural conformity, it is true, that this great man was of an excellent nature, and though * 1.136 it were a long time smothered up in flesh and bloud, yet was it as a sun in eclipse, which should one day appear in full liberty, and illuminate the bodie, which then was its obstacle. In his most tender infancy, he made amorous inclinations to his Creatour appear. For then he had recourse to prayer, as to a Sanctu∣ary of his small afflictions: and like a child placing felicity in that which touched him nearest according to his esteem, he ardently besought God that he might escape the chastisement of rods, and disgraces of the school. He was of an humour free and liberal, gracious, mild, affable, obliging, and full of compassi∣on toward men in want, which is a good way to represent great actions of virtue, and dispose one to receive the spirit of God in abundance. Affections, with tears of sweetness and devotion, were to him very familiar, which appeared on the day of his be∣ing made Priest, some time after his conversion; for he spared not to weep in that ceremony, where by chance a simple man interpreting that this happened to him through disturbance, that he was not yet a Bishop, who so well deserved it, he came near to comfort him, saying He should be patient; that Priest∣hood was the next degree to the dignity of a Bishop, and that in time he should enjoy the accomplishment of his desire. S. Augustine afterward related this speech to his friends, as an example of the errour of judge∣ments made upon mens actions. As for his vices, he had nothing therein black or hydeous: for his loves though inordinate, were bounded in limits most tolerable; and his ambitions were not haughty and disdainful, but consisting onely in a sleight va∣nity to make shew of that which he had either of wit or learning; a passion very natural to those who feel themselves endowed with any perfections. O∣therwise he had no design, pretence, engagements, as have they, who often cover their petty interests with the pretext of piety, and are ever ready to im∣brace the Religion wherein they find most accom∣modation for their temporalaffairs. Augustine was so free from worldly avarice, that he knew not what it was to make a fortune, or reach at wealth. Scarce would he ever learn to carry a key, possess money, in a coffer, and take accounts, as observeth Possi∣donius in his life. All his mind was upon books, and all his intentions aimed to the finding out of truth that he might offer homage to her for all he had, and faithfully serve her all his life, after he once had well known her. These dispositions gave a full pas∣sage to such as were to treat with him.

On the other part, attraction of motion, which com∣meth from good example, was to him very advanta∣gious in the person of his good mother S. Monica. And if certain people, as the Lycians, took the name of their mothers, as of those, whom they thought most contributed to the production of man into the * 1.137 world, Augustine had great cause to take the title of his nobility from S. Monica, who brought him forth more profitably for the life of grace, than that of nature.

This woman verily was the pearl of women, whose life had not great lightnings of extasies, not rap∣tures; for all her virtues passed with little noyse, like * 1.138 to great rivers that glide along with peaceful ma∣jesty: but all was there very inward, as in her who ever was hidden within the better part of her self. Much hath she done in affoarding a S. Augustine to the Church; and whosoever cannot discover the secret virtues of the sun, let him content himself to measure it by his rays. She pretended to consecrate her Virginity to Altars, God drew her to marri∣age, to gain from her a Doctour for his Church. This Saint knew not as yet what she did; when in her tender years by a laudable custom she rose from her bed in the deep silence of night, to offer her prayers to God, and when she shortned her diet at each re∣past, to divide the moity of her life with the poor: but the spirit of God, which guided her, disposed her then by these actions to some matter of importance. She was married to a Pagan, and one of a humour very untractable; which she so softened by her long and discreet patience, that in the end he set aside all his moody extravagancies, as it is said the furious Unicorn sleeps in a maidens bosom. It was with her a great consolation to have married an infidel, and after some years to see him dye a Christian, saying to God, She had received a lion, and restored a lamb. All her care aimed onely at this son, whom she first saw ingulfed in a life most licentious afterward, by mishap involved in the heresy of the Manichees. The poor mother endured nine entire years the throws of this spiritual child-birth, the most sensibly that may be imagined. What grief and sighs in her re∣tirement? What fancies in her sleep? What prayers in the Church? What alms in necessities of the poor? What prudence and discretion in all her pro∣ceedings? She sought out all the passages into this spirit, which she could imagine: but seeing it was a torrent not to be restrained by her forces, she peace∣ably expected the assistance of Heaven. She despaired not of his malady through fear to cure him. She un∣dertook not in the fervent accesses of his feaver to upbraid his disorders: She went not about manacing him with fire and cauteries: But did as God, who acteth no ill, but ever so useth the matter, that the evil is extenuated. When she could not speak to her son, she caused the apple of her eyes to speak to God, deploring all night, and watering the Altars, not with bloud of victims, but that of her soul, which were her tears. We may say, that as the waters which have pearls in them, run for the most part to the south, so this holy woman being in Africk, a Southern Re∣gion, * 1.139 became in the abundance of her tears the true fountain of the South, fit to bear a great pearl, which afterward brought forth for Christendom many millions of pearls. Never had the Angel Rephael so much care of young Toby, as this celestial intelligence of her son, being perpetually in Centinel, and obser∣ving the visitations of Gods providence. Her Para∣litick was ready at the fish-pool, and expected no∣thing but the stirring of the water.

Behold she came from Afrik to Milan, through so many perils both of sea and land, such travels and sufferings, to conclude her deliverance. She found her son much already shaken by the shocks which the eloquence of S. Ambrose had given him. Soon the holy woman knew it was this great Bishop, whom God had chosen to set a seal upon this work of the conversion of a man so important: and her son re∣lateth, that from that time she esteemed S. Ambrose as a very Angel of Heaven (a) 1.140. She was still in the Church to behold him, ever she hung on his lips, as the sources which distil from the Paradise of God.

Here is the attraction of heat, or rather the sun that must on high exhale this cold vapour, after so much resistance it had made against the spirit of God. Augustine himself very particularly deciphe∣reth, how being at Milan, he saw the Bishop Ambrose, known through the whole habitable world (b) 1.141 as one of the best men upon the earth, who ceased not to administer to his people the word of God, which in it bare corn, oyl, and the wine of sobriety. This

man of God, saith he, at my arrival imbraced me, as a father would his son, and shewed he was much pleased with my coming to Milan, obliging me with many charitable offices. Behold the cause why I began to affect him very much: not so much yet as a Doctour of truth (for I expected it neither from him nor any other Catholick) but as a man, who wished me well. I continually was present at his sermons; in the beginning for curiositie, to espie and sound whether his eloquence were equal to his great reputation. I was very attentive to his words, little caring for the matter, and I found he really had a stile very learned and sweet, but not the cheerfulness and quaint attractions of Faustus c 1.142 though for sub∣stance of discourse there was no comparison: For Faustus recounted fables, and this man taught most wholesome doctrine. Behold the first apprehensions that Augustine had touching the abilitie of S. Am∣brose. In the end he continuing to hear him for de∣light, truth entered through his ears, which were onely opened to eloquence, and he found in the be∣ginning, that our Religion had not those absurdities which the Manichees obtruded, and were it not true, it might at least be professed without impu∣dence, which he could not hitherto be perswaded unto. The old Testament, which with the Manichees he so much had rejected, seemed to him to have a quite other face, after the learned interpretations of S. Ambrose. The chymeraes and fantasies, which environed his imagination, were dissolved at the ri∣sing of some pettie rays from him. Notwithstand∣ing it was yet neither day nor night in his soul: Er∣rour was below, and Religion had not yet the upper hand. His spirit over-toiled with so many questions by the wiles of Satan propended to neutralitie, being neither hot nor cold, as it happened to those, who forsake truth through the despair they have how to know it.

The eighth SECTION. Agitations of spirit in S. Augustine upon his conversion.

BUt God still enflaming his chast desires, he bent himself to consider S. Ambrose, whom he per∣petually had for object; and seeing how this man was honoured by the chief Potentates of the earth, & how he flourished in such glorious actions, all appeared compleat in such a life, but that it went on without a wife; he thinking at that time the want of a great burden to be a main miserie. He as yet pro∣ceeded but to the bark of S. Ambrose, observing one∣ly what was exteriour, and not penetrating into those great treasures of lights, virtues, contentments, and heavenly consolations, stored up in the bottom of the conscience of this holy Prelate.

He had vehement desires to speak to him somewhat more familiarly, to understand his opinion, to ask questions at large, to discover his heart all naked, and unfold the mi∣series of his passed life: And because (saith he) I stood in need of a man full of great leasure to re∣ceive the ebbe and flow of thoughts which were in my soul, now I found all in Ambrose, except time to hear me: not that he was difficult of access, for he was ever in his Hall exposed to the service of the whole world; but my unhappiness was, to be like the Paralitick of the fish-pool, still out-gone by o∣thers more strong than my self. What diligence soever I used, I found Ambrose environed with a large troup of solicitous men, whose infirmities he comforted to my exclusion; and if any little time remained for him, it was imployed either in repast, which was exceeding short, or at his book. The good Prelate studied in his Hall in sight of all the world, where I oft beheld him, and saw that in reading, he onely ran over with his eye one page of a book, then ruminated it in his heart, not at all moving his lips, whether it were that he would not engage himself to discourse upon his reading to all there present, or whether it were, he did it to preserve his voice, easily weakened with much exercise of speach, or for some other cause. I thought time was very precious to him, and seeing him so serious, I supposed it a kind of impudency to in∣terrupt him. After so long a silence I went away with the rest, not having opportunity to speak to him.

Verily this discourse sheweth a mervellous repose of spirit in S. Ambrose: and as it were over much mo∣desty in S. Augustine: for it was a wonder that he who ordinarily lived at Milan in the reputation of a great wit, and was already known by the Bishop to be such, brake not the press at one time or other, to gain some hours of audience in affairs of so great importance. I should think either that he used a forbearance too shame-faced and irresolute, or that S. Ambrose would not enter into disputation with a young man as yet so well perswaded of his own abilities, before he had suffered him to ripen, and to be throughly seasoned by the resentments of piety. However, it put the mind of S. Augustine into great disturbance.

Behold (saith he) almost eleven years, that I have sought the truth, and see I am arrived at the thirtieth year of my Age, yet still perplexed. To morrow infallibly it must dissolve: stay yet a little; perhaps Faustus will come to Milan, and tell thee all. But how will he tell that which he shall never know? Let us hold with the Academicks, and say all is uncertain, for every man mantaineth what he list. It is the property of man to imagine, and the nature of God to know. But the Academicks (be∣hold gallant men) do leave a spirit in perpetual do∣tage. Let us rather set our feet on the steps of Ca∣tholick Religion, where we planted them from our tender age. It is not so cloudy as the Manichees suppose it, Ambrose hath already much freed me from errours: let us pursue the rest. I, but Ambrose hath not leasure for thee. Let us read: where shall * 1.143 we find necessary books, and where have fit time? Thy schollars busy thee all the mornings; take at least some hours after noon to enjoy thy self. But when shall I admit the necessary visits of friends that must be entertained? and when the prepara∣tions for my lectures? and when my recreations? Let all be lost, so I may gain my self. This life, as thou seest, Augustine, is most miserable, and death uncertain. If it catch thee upon a surprise, in what estate wilt thou leave this world? And where dost thou think to learn that, which here thou hast neg∣lected? But how if death also should conclude the faculties and life of the soul? It is a madness to think onely on it, since all the greatness and choise of Religion, wisdom, and sanctity fights for the immortality of the soul. We should never so much employ the spirit of God in so great advantages as he hath given us, if we had no other life but that of flies and ants. Augustine, thy evil is thy sen∣suality. If thou wilt find God, thou must forsake thy self, and from this time forward bid a long adue to worldly pleasures, Thou art deceived: when thou hast left them, thou wilt have the repentance, to have done that too soon, which thou oughtest not to do; nor canst thou any more make an ho∣nourable retreat into the world. Let us live, we have good friends; we may in the end have an office, a wife, means, and all sort of contentments: There are too man•• miserable enough through necessity, that consent not to it by any act volun∣tary. To conclude, a wife and the truth of the Gospel, are not things incompatible.

Behold how this poor spirit turmoiled it self in the retirement of his cogitations, as himself hath de∣clared in his Confessions. He beheld the life of Saint Ambrose and his chastity, with an eye yet benummed and surcharged with terrestrial humours, and it re∣flected some rays upon him; but he found it so high mounted in the throne of its glory, that the sole aspect affrighted him: he measured continency by his own forces, not by the grace of God. Behold why he * 1.144 despaired of a single life, and thought a wife was a chain, sometime unhappy, but ever necessary. He li∣ved at that time with Alipius and Nebridius, two no∣ble Africans, his intimate friends, who followed him charmed with his doctrine and sweetness of his con∣versation: and from this time they proposed that life to themselves, which they afterward led. He of∣ten put them upon the intention to establish a good manner of life, to pass the rest of their days in the study of wisdom. Alipius, who was very chast, main∣tained this could not be done in the company of wo∣men, according to an ancient saying of Cato, who affirmed, If all the world were without a woman, it would not be exempt from the conversation of gods. Augustine, that was less chast than Alipius, and much more eloquent, prepared himself to dispute this que∣stion strongly and firmly against him, so that it seem∣ed (saith he) that the old serpent spake by his mouth, so much he connected together reasons and allega∣tions to maintain his opinion. The good Alipius was much amazed to behold such a great spirit so ty∣ed to flesh; and as he attributed much to all his opi∣nions, respecting him as his Master, it was a great chance he had not drawn him into voluptuousness through a simple curiosity of experience. This mi∣serable snare stayed all his good purposes, and needs must he break them, to put this great soul into full libertie.

The ninth SECTION. Three accidents which furthered this Conversion.

IT happened, either by the industry of holy Saint Monica, who failed not to observe opportunities for the salvation of her son, or by a secret inspi∣ration of God, that the woman, whom he had brought with him from Africk, and with whom he had always lived in fair correspondence, preserving to him inviolable faith, as if she had been his law∣full wife, resolved to leave him, saying: That she had now fulfilled the measure of her sins. That it was time to think upon a retreat; that she should die with this onely grief, not to have tears enow to wash the offences of her youth so unthriftily wasted. For the rest, never man should possess her after him, and that all her loves should be from this time forward for him who made her; onely she recommended unto him a son which she left, praying he would shew himself as a father and mother unto him.

Augustine was much amazed at this speech. It seem∣ed his heart was pulled away from him, to see him∣self separated from a woman he so faithfully had lo∣ved: and on the other side he was full of confusion, to behold that she shewed him the way which he sought, he not yet feeling himself strong enough to follow her example. It was not in his power to stay her any longer, nor to approve what she did. His spi∣rit was pensive and divided, not knowing upon what to resolve. After the departure of this woman, the mother, who as yet knew not the will of God, speaks to him of marriage, and he cast his eyes upon a young virgin of a very good house, which much pleased him, who, though she were two years younger than the lawfull age of marriage permitteth, he resolved to stay for her; but in the mean space he found out new loves, taking another unlawfull woman in the place of her whom he had forsaken.

Yet for all that he desisted not from the enquiry of truth, feeling none of all those engagements more than that of love, which made the sharpest resistance against him; and seeing he could not accost S. Am∣brose in his great multiplicity of affairs, with that fa∣cility he wished, he made his address to Simplicianus, * 1.145 Priest of the Church of Milan. He was one of the most venerable men that was then in Europe, endowed with infinite piety, and excellent literature. For this consideration he was delegated by his holiness to serve as a spiritual Father to S. Ambrose. Otherwise he was so humble and modest, that to give his Bishop the upper-hand, he very often counterfeited ignorance in questions which he right well knew, consulting with S. Ambrose as an Oracle, because of his dignity, and giving a perfect example to all, of the duty we ow to the Prelates of the Church.

Besides these ornaments of virtue and science, this holy man had strong attractives in the facility of his conversation, and sweetness of entertainment: so that a certain particular grace was seen to shine in his face, which was the cause every one desired to speak to him for his conversation, nor was any one weary of his company. Augustine having met with this Sim∣plicianus, whom he called the Man of God, throughly openeth his heart unto him, relating all the distur∣bances of his life passed. Simplicianus most tenderly embraceth him, and shews the Port now much nearer than he imagined. For, as he mentioning, that among other readings, he had perused the books of Plato, translated by Victorinus a Senatour, and heretofore Professour of Rhetorick in the Citie of Rome: I like very well (saith this good old man) that you have read the books of Plato, rather than the impieties of other Philosophers. I doubt not but you have observed many passages in this good Authour, which make for our Re∣ligion: but since you have read the Translation of Vi∣ctorinus, and much esteem of it, why do you not imi∣tate him in his conversion? You must understand that I most familiarly knew him, when we were at Rome: he was a very learned old man, having his hairs grown white in the long study of all sorts of sciences, which he taught, manured, and illustrated the space of so many years, partly in declaming, partly by writing. There was not almost a Senatour in Rome, which acknowledged him not for his Master, and he arrived to such a degree of reputation, that they erected a Statue unto him in con∣sideration of his great learning. Who could ever have hoped in the decrepitness whereunto he was come, to see him born again among the little children of the Church? Notwithstanding, to shew you the force of Gods spirit, after the reading of almost all the books in the world, he set himself in the end of his age, to peruse the Bible and other Writings of Christians, where he found him∣self surprized at unawares, saying afterward to me: Simplicianus, know I am a Christian. I thinking he meant to scoff me: I will not, said I, believe any thing, till I see you at Church. And imagine you (replied he) the walls of a Church make a Christian? He spake this, much fearing to offend the Cedars of Libanus, which were his parents, eminent in qualitie, though Infidels: but he afterward was well resolved never to blush more for the Gospel. Let us go (saith he) to the Church, I am a Christian. I was at this word so transported with joy, I could no longer contain my self. I led him to the Church, and caused him to be instructed in the Arti∣cles of our Faith, and commanded a name to be given him among those that required holy Baptism. When he came to make his profession of faith, some one, thinking to please him, would have him pronounce in secret. No (saith the good old man) in publick: It is no longer fit to be ashamed of so glorious an action. As soon as he was mounted into an eminent place to pronounce the Ar∣ticles

of his belief, all the world which knew him, be∣gan to crie Victorinus, Victorinus. The admiration was so great, the contentment so universal, the joy so sen∣sible, that it seemed every one would snatch him from thence, to set him in his heart.

Oh God! how you honour those that faithfully serve you? Behold him now, who in stead of tying himself to those dying Palms of Rhetorick, is fastened to the tree of life, which never perisheth, and is eternized with a glorious memorie in the estimation of Christendom. Who would not think himself most happie, by following his example to participate in his crowns? For mine own part, I will truly confess unto you (dear son) that at such time as Julian the Apostata forbade all the Christians to use humane learning, I was as much addicted to it as any man of mine age, being then in the flower of youth very curious: but seeing matter of faith was in question, I most freely forsooke those Syrens, to arrive at the haven of salvation, where I speedily hope to enjoy your compa∣nie. For so excellent a nature as yours, is not made to be lost. It were over-much to resist the inspirations of God; your age and fashion require you to lay arms aside.

This discourse quickened with love, reason, wis∣dom, and examples so sensible, penetrated far into the heart of S. Augustine, causing him to speak these words, which he did afterwards couch in his Con∣fessions: I knew not what to answer, convinced by varieties * 1.146 so palpable, but in dull and drowsie words, saying always, this shall soon, very soon be: yet had this soon no measure in it, nor did this delay I desired find any end.

God recharged again, and laid a fresh battery up∣on Augustine by the mouth of a secular man. A cer∣tain gentleman of Africa, called Pontianus, who fol∣lowing the Emperours Court, came to visit him in his lodging, found by chance on the table, the E∣pistles of Saint Paul. This being a man much given to devotion, and who knew Augustine to have a wan∣dering wit in the curiosities of prophane books, smi∣led to see him now seeking out his entertainment with an Apostle. Augustine replied, there was no cause of wonder, for it was now become his principal ex∣ercise. The gentleman seeing him in this good hu∣mour, sets before him divers discourses of piety, and among others, some narrations of the life of Saint Anthonie. Wherewith Augustine and his companion Alipius were ravished, having never before heard this great Saint spoken of: So little curious were they to know that, which could not be omitted but by such as were willing to be perpetually ignorant of them∣selves. The other proceeding in his discourse, repre∣sented to them the companies of Religious then in great account, esteemed by all the world as the paps of the Bride, replenished with celestial odours, which streamed even as far as the deserts, with immortal sources of their milk; and added, that they had a Monasterie in the suburbs of Milan, erected by Saint Ambrose, wherein were many great examples of vir∣tue. They heard this man with some small shame to be ignorant of so large a treasure, even at their gate, whilest they turned over the writings of many wits which lived in flames, tormented where they are, and applauded where they are not. This good man seeing they relished this excellent discourse, follow∣ing the point, said: Being one day at Trier, with three gentlemen, my companions, as the Emperour after dinner beheld the Turneys, and race of horses with all his Court, it came into our heads to go take the air in certain gar∣dens near the Citie. Two of the four of us walking along, arrived by chance at a little Cel, where they found Hermits, and a book of the life of Saint Anthonie. One takes it up, reads, and admireth it, and in reading is so moved, that he determined in his heart to change his course of life. And being no longer able to contain himself (so replenished was he with the love of God, and confusion of his own infirmities) he turned to his companion, and said: And what (I pray) do we seek with all our travels? Whither tend all our ambitions? Why bear we these arms? What pretend we with so much toyl? To gain the favour of a man, which is more light than the wind, more frail than glass, more thin than smoak? Out alas! by what perils hasten we to a greater danger? By what steps mount we up to a pro∣montorie of ice, where our foot is ever upon the pre∣cipice? Behold, I may from hence forward be the friend of God, if I will. He persisted to read this book, all on fire, and became big with a new life, which he brought forth; then again he cried out as a man rapt with an extasie: It is done; I have broken my hands, from this step, from this hour, in this place I am resolved to serve God. Go (my dear friend) if you will not imitate me, at the least oppose not my resolution. The other re∣plieth: I am wholly yours; God forbid I forsake you in so fair a way, by frustrating my self of so honourable a war∣fare, and so rich a reward. Behold them from gallants in an instant become Hermits. I and my associate enquired for them in the mean space on every side, and about even∣ing found our selves in the same Cell, condemning them that they must be sought for, and saying it was now time to end our walk with the day-light, and return to the Citie. They seriously made answer: They had found their lodging, we might do well to go whither we plea∣sed, but they were throughly determined never to depart from thence.

I thought in the beginning it was a counterfeit merry∣ment, but better sounding it, upon relation what had pas∣sed, I in effect saw they were men wholly changed. We were ashamed to leave them, and as yet felt our selves much unable to follow. In conclusion, we parted with many tears, we dregging our hearts in the dust, they by supereminence lifting the better part of themselves to Heaven. We went to bear this news unto two Ladies, their betrothed wives, who, enkindled with the same spi∣rit, afforded a free consent thereunto, vowing their vir∣ginitie to God, at the time when their marriage was al∣most on the point of consummation.

The tenth SECTION. The admirable change of S. Augustine.

WHile Pontianus related this, Saint Augustine was enchained to his discourse, and alrea∣dy felt flashes of lightening and battels in the bottom of his conscience, which he had much ado to dissemble. It seemed that God took him as a fugitive, who was hidden behind him, to set him in full view before himself. He saw himself (saith he) in this discourse as in a mirrour, foul, crooked, dis∣figured, and repleat with blemishes and ulcers. When he made comparison between his own unworthiness, and the life of those brave Champions, a holy hor∣rour of his vices so surprized him, that he seemed de∣sirous to be dis-engaged, and to flie from himself. And in this conflict he was still much confounded before his own eyes. The resolution of these two gentlemen unveiled his memory, embroiled from his youngest years, when he remembered he had great in∣clinations to serve God in the state of continency, and to have begged it of him, who is the Authour thereof, but with so much weakness, that he feared that God would not then take him at his word. He much wondred how these men in one after-noon could resolve on an affair of so great importance, and that he in the space of twelve years stuck fast in the snare. In the end, he could contain himself no lon∣ger, but brake the air with a deep sigh, saying to his faithfull Alipius: What is this? What have we heard? These simple men are raised, and win Heaven by a brave warfare, while we with our knowledge wal∣low

in flesh and bloud. Do we blush to wait on them? Nay, rather let us be ashamed not to follow them.

He spake this very suddenly in great agitation of spirit, which appeared in his forehead, in his eyes, vi∣sage, colour, and voice. Alipius very sad, beheld him, judging there was some transportation in this act. From thence he stole into a garden (which was very near the chamber where they discoursed) as a man distemper'd, knowing well what he had been, and not as yet understanding what God would do with him, at the least he had an intention to give free li∣berty to sighs, which he could withhold no longer. Alipius thinking there should be nothing concealed from him, step by step follows him, and both in pri∣vate began a good work. Augustine said in this re∣tirement: My God, what binders me that I break not * 1.147 my chains to day, to put my self into the libertie of thy children? What monster is this? Behold my will com∣mandeth my eye to be opened, my hand to work, my foot to walk, this is done without resistance: now this same will commandeth it self to forsake a wicked puddle, and set it self in the path of virtue; why so much resistance? Doubtless it will and it will not, otherwise it would be obeyed. I am yet fastened to the earth by some great root, and to day I must cut it off. See you not, Augustine, two messengers from God, to wit, shame and fear, armed with whips, which are by thy sides to wyne thee from the way of thy customarie pleasures? Turn thy face boldly, cut off from henceforth all the knots, which have hitherto en∣tangled thy libertie. It is done; Behold me free. I de∣ceive my self; I am not as yet where I think. Then let us do it now without further promise. What is that? I feel, what I do, and do not; notwithstanding I believe what is good, and recoyl not; I draw near, I mount up; the cause why I stay is but to take breath. In the end, by pure force behold I am there; I touch, and almost reach the good so oft desired. Out alas! I say, almost. For in effect I touch not, nor as yet hold any thing. Must I so much doubt to die to death, and live for life eternal?

As I was (saith he) upon these resolutions, near ap∣proching my happiness, if I did see behind me the image of that I left in forsaking the world, I might see abysses and horrours which congealed my heart, and yet notwith∣standing I stood fair, not proceeding nor retiring, as a bodie hanged in the air.

Behold in an instant all the sensual pleasures of my youth, which I had so cherished, were presented to my imagination, as Nymphs and Syrens. They seemed to pull me by the garment, and say: Augustine, What? Will you forsake us after we so sweetly have trained up your youth? Wherein have we disobliged you, but in suffering you to enjoy contentments which the law of nature permitteth? You now become very hardie in this transportation of your thoughts. It is a feaver which possesseth you, it will pass away, and you will be much ashamed to have no longer made use of us. You hasten to go awrie, which shall cost you dear if you take not heed. When you have done, you will be ashamed to return this way back again, and for fear to be thought a fool, you will live miserably all the rest of your d••ies. What? can you live without us? You are not so ignorant of that which God hath created for you. You have affection for beautie, and will have as long as you live. To love, and not enjoy, is to be set on the torture; and to be there vo∣luntarily, is to loose your wits. What? this moment of time here being ended, are we yours no longer? What? shall neither this nor that be permitted us for ever? Is it enough when one saith for ever? What hell is there in the world, if it be not to be deprived for ever of what we most affect?

These blameless Syrens altered not their discourse; for still they batter'd me with such like words; but found I had changed mine ears. Behold the cause, why as I then shewed my self verie resolute, they much lessened their holdness. Their speech was no longer a command, but a request: and when I turned my face from behold∣ing them, it seemed their voice was lost in the air, like a languishing eccho, to which proximitie affordeth no more reverberation. The more I fortified my self with rea∣sons, the more they desisted. All they could do was but to speak some slight words softly in mine ear, or by stealth pull me by the cloak, to cause me to turn my face once again towards them: but I stood firm as a rock, behold∣ing the beautie and sweetness of the life, to which I felt my self called by God.

It seemed unto me that I saw before mine eies fair cha∣stitie, the mother of holy loves, encompassed with a large troup of virgins and chast ones, all white with innocencie, and resplendent with light of glorie. She smiled upon me with a brow more brightsom than the clearest summers day, and stretching out her arm full laden with palms, Come confidently (saith she) why do you any further di∣spute with your thoughts? Forsake those Syrens, they too much have abused the flower of your age. I will acquaint you with their deceits, their vanities, and infamies, if the experience of a dozen years have not taught you more than I am able to discover. What else have you done the space of so many years, but till a barren field, which promised fruits, and gave you thorns and ill sa∣vours, sprinkled with some slight blossoms? As for their words, were they not full of promises, their promises of oaths, and their, oaths of perjuries? What illusions and fantasies have you experienced? And if you have in some sort enjoyed them, hath it not been worse than your own desires, so much was it mingled with gall, and attended by remorse, which made you bear gibbets and tortures with your pleasures? Must you purchase a hell with so many mischiefs, which seemeth wide open to receive the desperate? Where think you to find pleasure out of God, from whom all pleasures are? I am not hydeous nor bar∣ren, as your thoughts, O Augustine, do figure me: I am the mother of holy delights, ever fruitfull by the visita∣tions of God. My joys are gardens, which never wither, since they perpetually are watered with immortal graces. Ask those children, those maids, those men and women. Behold of all ages, and all conditions: Ask them, if they ever found any bitterness in my conversation. You tur∣moil your self upon the frailties of flesh; how simple are you? why cannot you do what such and such have done, who have waxed old in virginitie? Think you they have other flesh, bloud, and other qualities than you? You equal them in all, except in a strong resolution to be a slave no longer. Imagine you that all this they do is by their own power? God gives them the will, God grants the power, God affords them the accomplishment. Child of diffidence, why do you still handle your infirmi∣ties? Cleave to God, as doth the ivie to the wall, and fear not that ever he will bereave you of his support, if you to him remain faithfull.

He entertained his mind with such cogitations, and it seemed unto him this consideration at that instant drew all his misery, as from an abyss, to represent it before his eyes. Then was it when the secret attra∣ction, which consisteth in the particular touch of the Holy Ghost, did manifestly appear. Behold the pro∣phesie of David accomplished: Behold the God of Ma∣jestie * 1.148 who thundereth. Behold the voice of God on the waters, and on the great waters, since it forceth tears to issue out in abundance. Behold the voice of God, which cometh with a strong hand, since it over-beareth all re∣sistance. Behold the voice of God, which cometh with magnificence, since it operateth so glorious a conver∣sion. Behold the voice of God, which breaketh the Ce∣dars of Libanus, since it overthroweth all the pride of the world. Behold the voice of God, which divides the flames since it scattereth the fires of concupiscence. Behold the voice of God, which shaketh the desert, since it removeth from the bottom to the top the sterilities of this desolate soul. Behold the voice of God, which prepareth the Hind for her deliverance, since it removes all the obstacles.

He was near his Alipius, who expected the issue of these agitations of mind, and suddenly behold he felt in his heart a tempest raised, which in it contain∣ed fire and water, and seeing the cloud began now to be divided with the ardent sighs and fountains of tears, which he poured forth, he left Alipius the Se∣cretary of all his thoughts, to engulf himself further into retirement, and give free rains to his passion. He threw himself under a fig-tree, which Isidorus of Pel∣lusium holds to have been the tree of the first unhap∣piness of the world, so, as if to wipe away this stain, it had then been the beginning of his happiness. There he made rivers run from his eyes, which were wa∣sted with his heart in a noble sacrifice of love, and seemed willing to wash the victim with the wa∣ters of Libanus, before they were burnt in the fire of Sion.

Thereupon he cried out with redoubled sighs: My God, how long? My God, how long? No longer re∣member the sins of my foolish youth, but treat with me according to the greatness of thy mercies. Shall we yet say, to morrow, to morrow? And why not to day? And wherefore is it not time to give end to a life so exorbi∣tant? I am troublesom to my self, nor can I any longer en∣dure my self. Must I ever be to Heaven an object of ven∣geance, and to earth an unprofitable burden? My God, how long? My God, how long? Speaking this with an abundance of brinish tears, he heard a voice sweet and harmonious, which said these words as it were sing∣ing: Take and read, often repeating them. Admira∣tion stopped the floud of tears, and he began to exa∣mine in himself, whether such a voice could come from any neighbour-place by some ordinary means. All which well weighed, he found it could not be humane, but that God by this voice instructed him what he was to do. He went from this place thither where he left S. Pauls Epistles with his friend Alipius, imagining, that as S. Anthonie had been converted by the reading of one word in the Gospel, on which he casually happened, God might likewise work some∣what in his soul by the words of his Apostle. He openeth the book with a holy horrour, and the first sentence he encountered, was that which said: It was time to live no longer in good cheer, feasts, and the * 1.149 drunkenness of the world. That it was time to live no lon∣ger in unchast beds, quarrels, vanities, and emulations, but that we must be clothed with Jesus Christ, as with a robe of glory, no more obeying the flesh, nor the con∣cupiscence of the heart.

There was no need to read any further. Behold in an instant the ray of God, which did directly beat upon his heart, and opened to him a delicious sereni∣tie. Behold him throughly resolved. He sheweth this passage to his faithfull Alipius, as the decisive sentence of a long process, which he had with sensuality. And Alipius casting his eyes upon the subsequent words, found: (a) 1.150 Receive him who is weak in faith. Behold me (said he) If you determine to forsake the world, take me for your companion. They rose and went both to the good S. Monica: Mother (saith Augustine) you shall not need to take the pains to find me out a wife. Behold me a Catholick, and which is more, resolved to leave the world, to live in continency. The resolution is made, and concluded with God, there is no means at all to retire. Had not God withheld the soul of this holy widdow of Naim, it was already upon her lips to flie out for joy, beholding this dead son, this son of so many tears, to come unexpectedly out of his tomb, and present himself before her eyes with a splendour of incomparable light. She made bon-fires of joy in her heart, and triumphed with celestial alacritie, blessing God, who had stretched out the power of his arm on this conversion, and who by the bounty of a true father, had surmounted the vows of an af∣flicted mother.

Augustine in the mean while thought sweetly to begin his retreat from the Rhetorick Lectures where∣in he was engaged. There yet remained but twenty days to the time of vacation, which had the conti∣nuance of twenty years, to a man, who then entertain∣ed far other affections: notwithstanding, through great wisdom and modesty, he would not break with exteriour pomp, by publishing a change of life in the Citie of Milan, but suffered the time to steal away with little noise. When the term expired, he quietly discharged himself thereof, and likewise freed him∣self from the importunity of fathers, who passionate∣ly sought him to be Tutour to their children for his great capacity, he alledging for his excuse, that the exercise of the School had brought a difficulty of breathing, and an indisposition of the breast upon him, which threatened him with a ptysick, if he de∣sisted not. This was very true, but yet not the prin∣cipal point of his resolution. Behold how this great man avoided the occasions of ostentation, and the di∣vers interpretations he might make to himself for a gloss of actions: and although God (as he said) had put into his heart flaming darts, and juniper-coals against slanderous tongues, he chose rather to take away occasion of calumny, than to see himself put upon the necessity of defending himself; very far dif∣ferent therein from the nature of those, who make great flourishes, to end them in nothing.

After he was discharged from his professon of Rhetorick, he retired himself into the Grange of Ve∣recundus, where he stayed a long time, as yet a Cata∣chumen, leading a most Angelical life, spent wholly in prayer, and the study of holy letters. From thence he wrote to S. Ambrose of the errours of his passed life, and the estate wherein he presently was by the grace of God, as also of the aid he had contributed to his conversion, demanding besides what book he should read, the better to prepare himself for the grace of Baptism. S. Ambrose certified him of the contentment he took in this so particular visitation of God, and advised him to read the Prophet Isaiah; but he seeing he could not yet understand it, did defer it till another time, wherein he might be better practi∣sed in holy Scriptures.

In the end, the day so many times desired being * 1.151 come, wherein he was to be born anew by Baptism, it being in the thirty fourth year of his age (as Cardi∣nal Baronius accounteth it) he went from the Grange of Verecundus to the Citie of Milan, where he was christened by the hand of Saint Ambrose, and had for companion of his Baptisin his faithful friend Alipius, and his onely son Adeodatus, at that time about fifteen years of age; so prodigious a wit, that his father could not think upon it without astonishment. I had nothing * 1.152 therein (saith he) my God, but sin; the rest is from you, who so well know how to reform our deformities. But all was there admirable, for at the age between fifteen and sixteen years, he already surpassed many great and learned men. He also verified the saying of Sages, af∣firming, these such sparkling wits are not for any long continuance upon earth, for he died some years after his return into Africk, leaving a repose in the father, who already apprehended the course of this * 1.153 youth: and although he grieved to see him taken away in the flower of his age, yet on the other side he was much comforted in the innocency of his life, & hope of his immortality, knowing it was the will of the gardener, who had gathered the fruit according to his good pleasure, to lay it up in store. After this bap∣tism, there were nothing but hymns, songs, lights of eternal verities thanksgiving, and tears of joy.

This done, he must take the way of Africa, and they * 1.154 were now arrived to the port of Ostia, expecting the opportunity of navigation, when the holy and vene∣rable mother▪ Monica, of fifty six years of age, and worn with many labours, rendered to nature her tri∣bute, and soul to its Creatour.

This admirable woman resembleth the Ark in the deluge, which after it had born the whole world in the bowels thereof, amongst so many storms and fa∣tal convulsions of universal nature, reposed on the mountains of Armenia: So S. Monica, when she so long time had carried in her entrails and heart a spirit as great as this universe, among so many tears and dolours, so soon as she was delivered of this painful burden, went to take her rest on the mountains of Si∣on. A little before her death, beholding Heaven from a high window, which opened on a garden, she seem∣ed there already to mark out her lodging, so much she witnessed resentment and extasie towards her son Augustine, who at that time made this admirable col∣loquie with her, couched by him afterward in his Confessions. The conclusion was, that she said un∣to him: My son, I have now no more obligations to the world, you have discharged all the promises of Heaven to me, and I have consummated all the hopes I might have on earth, seeing you a Catholick, and which is more, resolved to perfection of the life you have embra∣ced. When it shall please God to call me, I am like fruit ripe and falling, that holdeth on nothing.

Soon after she betook her to her bed, being surpri∣zed with a feaver, which she presently felt to be the messenger of her last hour. Behold the cause why she being fortified with arms and assistances necessary for this combat, took leave of Augustine and his brother there present, affectionately entreating them to re∣member her soul at the Altar, onely meditating on Heaven, and neglecting the thought of the land of Africa, which she had seemed at other times to desire for the sepulcher of her body.

And as her other son said unto her: Madame, my mother, we as yet are not there, we hope to close your eyes in our own countrey, and burie you in the tomb of your husband; this holy woman seeing this man would still tie her to the present life, and divert her from co∣gitation of death, which to her was most sweet, be∣held him with a severe eye, and then turning her self towards her son Augustine, Hearken (saith she) what he saith; as if we absent from Africa, must needs be further from God. She often cast her dying eyes to∣wards this son, who was her precious conquest, and who in her sickness served her with most particular assistances, affirming, that Augustine had ever been a good son towards her, and though he had cost her many sorrows, he never had forgotten the respect due to a mother.

Verily there was a great sympathie between the soul of such a mother and such a son, which was in∣finitely augmented after this happy conversion, and therefore we must give to nature that which belongs to it. The child Adeodatus, seeing his Grand-mo∣ther in the last agony, as possessing the affections of his father, threw out pitifull out-cries, in which he could not be pacified And S. Augustine, who endea∣voured to comfort them all upon so happy a death, withheld his tears for a time by violence, but needs must he in the end give passage to plaints so reason∣able. The Saint died as a Phenix among Palms, and they having rendered the last duties to her, pursued the way begun directly for Africk.

Behold how the conversion of S. Augustine passed, and though many cooperated therein, yet next unto God, S. Ambrose hath ever been reputed the principal Agent; and for that cause his great disciple said of him: (b) 1.155 Ambrose is the excellent steward of the great father of the family, whom I reverence as my true fa∣ther, for he hath begotten me in Jesus Christ by the vir∣tue of the Gospel, and God hath been pleased to make use of his service to regenerate me by Baptism. Whilest stars and elements shall continue, it will be an im∣mortal glory to the Bishop Ambrose to have given the Church a S. Augustine, of whom Volusianus spake one word worth a thousand: (c) 1.156 Augustine is a man capable of all the glorie of the world. There is much dif∣ference between him and other Bishops. The ignorance of one Church-man alone, prejudiceth not Religion, but when we come to Bishop Augustine, if he be ignorant of any thing, it is not he, but the law which is defective, be∣cause this man is as knowing as the law it self.

The eleventh SECTION. The affairs of S. Ambrose with the Empe∣perours Valentinian the father, and Gratian the son.

LEt us leave the particulars of the life of S. Am∣brose, to pursue our principal design, which is to represent it in the great and couragious acti∣ons he enterprized with the Monarchs of the world. Let us not behold this Eagle beating his wings in the lower region of the ayr, but consider him among lightenings, tempests, and whirl-winds; how he plays with thunder-claps, and ever hath his eye where the day breaketh.

The state of Christianitie stood then in need of a * 1.157 brave Prelate to establish it in the Court of Great∣ones. The memory of J••lian the Apostata, who en∣deavoured with all his power to restore Idols, was yet very fresh, it being not above ten years past since he died, and yet lived in the minds of many Pagans of eminent quality, who had strong desires to pursue his purpose. On the other side the Arians, who saw themselves so mightily supported by the Emperour Constans, made a great party, and incessantly embroyl∣ed the affairs of Religion. Jovinian, a most Catho∣lick Emperour, who succeeded Julian, passed away as a lightening, in a reign of seven moneths. After him Valentinian swayed the Empire, who had in truth good relishes of Religion, but withal a warlick spirit, and who to entertain himself in so great a diversitie of humours and sects, whereon he saw this Empire to be built, much propended to petty accommodations, which for some time appeased the evil, but took not away the root. He made associate of the Empire his brother Valens, who being a very good Catholick in the beginning of his reign, suffered himself to be de∣ceived by an Arian woman, and did afterward exer∣cise black cruelties against the faithfull, till such time as defeated by the Goths, and wounded in an encoun∣ter, he was burnt alive by his enemies in a shepherds cottage, whereunto he was retired; so rendering up his soul in the bloud and flames where with he had filled the Church of God.

The association of this wicked brother, caused much disorder in the affairs of Christendom, and of∣ten slackened the good resolutions of Valentinian by coldness and tollerations, which were rather esteem∣ed the feaver of times, than men.

S. Ambrose entered into charge, as is most probably thought, about the end of the reign of this Valenti∣nian, and had not much occasion to intermedle with him; yet from his enterance sheweth he would be∣come a Lion. For seeing in the State some practises in Magistrates, which turned to the prejudice of the Church, he with much freedom and generosity com∣plained to the Emperour; and though this Prince was one of the most absolute who had swayed the Scepter, he was no whit offended, but answered to S. ••mbrose: It is a long time I have foreseen your na∣ture, * 1.158 and the libertie you would use when a Myter was set on your head. Yet notwithstanding did I never oppose your election, and though I might exercise the resistance which the laws allow me, without any other authoritie, yet I gave my consent, for the desire I have to behold a stout man in this charge. Do what the laws of God appoint you, the times are sick, and need a good Physitian.

This so favourable beginning promised good effects * 1.159 for the future. But this Prince lived not long after: for, having reigned about twelve years in a very harsh manner, he being haughty, and excessively cholerick, it happened that hearing one day the Deputies of a Province in Bohemia, who excused themselves upon certain incursions and roberies imputed unto them, he entered into so violent and thundering distempers, that they laid him on the bed of death; for, from the Councel-table he at that instant was carried into his chamber. The veins of his body shrunk up, his speech stopped, his members were turmoiled with horrible convulsions, and his face spread all over with purple spots. In conclusion, he was wasted with fervours of anger, more dāgerous than the dog-star, which in few hours took him hence, who under the sword of the Roman Empire had made so many Armies of Barba∣rians to tremble, to teach us we have no greater ene∣mies than our selves.

Valentinian left two sons, the one by his first wife Severa, which was Gratian: The other by Justina, which was Valentinian the Younger. Let us see how S. Ambrose treated with them both.

The holy Bishop, who had already exercised so much authority over the father, retained it on the sons with so much the more priviledge, as their age and the necessity of the affairs of the Church requi∣red. Valentinian some years before his death, fore∣seeing as it were what would happen, declared his el∣dest son Gratian Successour of his Empire, and from that time associated him to his dignity. As he was a Prince very awfull, and who among his sharp pro∣ceedings, spared not to mingle many sweet attractives when he undertook an affair, so he made himself ap∣pear in his latter days as a setting Sun in his Royal Throne, and having made a most specious Oration to all his Captains and souldiers there then about him, flattering, and calling them companions by way of Court-ship, he exhibited many large demonstrations of amity to them: then taking his little son Gratian * 1.160 by the hand, clad in an Imperial robe, being then of fourteen or fifteen years of age, he told them, that this was his Heir, whom they were one day to have for companion, and who should with them tread under-foot the powers opposed against the Roman Empire: adding, he should equal his father in valour and in affection, due to their good services, but sur∣pass him in sweetness, having been made happy with a better education than himself. This young youth (as saith his history) was beautifull as a star, for his eyes sparkled like two lightening-flashes, his face ve∣ry amiable, and complexion mingled with white and red. When the souldiers beheld him in this habit, they began softly to strike their targets, and at that instant the trumpets sounded with a thousand accla∣mations to salute him.

This action was the cause that the sudden death of his father, made him instantly Emperour with his un∣cle Valens, who yet lived, when for a singular try∣al of friendship, he divided his dignity with his bro∣ther, the little Valentinian, who was not yet above five or six years old, being then left an orphan under the charge of his mother Justina. Afterward the great necessities of the Empire, made them likewise asso∣ciate Theodosius to the Crown, one of their fathers chiefest Captains.

The young Gratian, who was endowed with an excellent disposition, presently put himself under the wings of Saint Ambrose, to direct him in af∣fairs of his salvation and conscience, which he esteemed the most important of all might concern him. Our great Prelate entered so far into his soul, that living and dying, nothing was so sweet nor familiar in his mouth, as the name of Bishop Am∣brose. And well to discover the apprehensions of this fair soul, and the easie enterance it gave to all the forms of virtue proposed by this great Saint, you must observe, even in the judgement of Pagan Histo∣rians, who never graced him above his merit, that he was the most accomplished Prince for his age, which ever bare the Diadem of Caesars. And if a life so pre∣cious could have been redeemed with the bloud and tears of the faithfull, it had replenished the Church with sanctity, the Empire with glory, and the whole world with wonders.

The beauty of body which he enjoyed, contained a spirit wholly celestial enchased therein, for it was full of generous viva city; and as fire out of his sphere seeketh its nourishment in the conquests thereof, so he lived by sciences and lights, that they became tri∣butary by his judgement and travel, as well as men by his arms. He laboured much in the matter of elo∣quence, * 1.161 seeing it was then a study as it were absolute∣ly necessary for Emperours, to reign over people, and that words were the cement, which united wills and arms for the safety of the publick. By good chance he had Ausonius for Master, esteemed even in the judgement of Symmachus, the most able man of his time; most happy Master of an excellent schollar, who made him change the school of Rhetorick, for the purple of Consul-ship. Gratian was naturally eloquent, nor was it hard to manure so generous a nature. When he pronounced some Oration, he had early in his young years, the majesty of his father, conjoyned with an admirable modesty, and a little a crimony, which gave an edge to his actions. The ordering and inflection of his voice, were rarely pro∣portioned: He seemed eloquent in pleasing argu∣ments; grave, in serious; polite, in laborious, and when the subject required fervour and invective, his mouth spake tempests. This enforced no diminution upon his military exercises, wherein he was infinitely dexterous; whether he were to run, wrastle, or leap, according to the custom of the Roman souldiers, his agility made the world wonder; or whether he were to manage a horse, or handle arms, the Masters who had trained him up, confessed he had dainty passages, inimitable for any practice. The Pagans, who would blame him for diversity of Religion, have never said ought else of him, but that he was to good an Ar∣cher, and over-fervent in hunting of wild beasts. That notwithstanding, set him in the estimation of warlike men, and as he was singularly affable and liberal, so was there nothing to be found in the world more charming than his nature.

Saint Ambrose, having understood his spirit, much affected him, and endeavoured to joyn the most solid virtues to so many fair natural parts; and above all, perceiving that among so many Pagans and Arians, who stretched out their snares on eve∣ry side to surprize him, it was necessary to prevent them, he laid in his Royal soul deep foundations of faith, and most chaste grounds of Religion, to which Gratian shewed himself from the beginning much en∣clined. There is also a letter found, written in his proper stile, and with his own hand, where when he had heard the learned instructions of his Prelate, he demands them in writing, and because it is an ex∣cellent monument of his spirit and Religion, I will here insert it.

The Emperour GRATIAN, to Ambrose the Religious Bishop of God Omnipotent.

I Have a vehement desire to see my self united to you * 2.1 by corporal presence, as I ever have you in my memo∣rie, and as I cohabit with you in the better part of my self, which is the soul. I beseech you (most holy and Religious Bishop of the living God) hasten unto me, to teach me what I believe before I have sufficiently learned. For it is not my purpose to argue upon matter of faith, better loving to lodge God in my heart, than conclude him in my words. My desire onely is to open my soul at large to the Divinitie, to receive its lights the * 2.2 more abundantly. God will instruct me, if it shall please him, by your words, since I confess and reverence his most Sacred Majestie, well observing not to call Jesus Christ a creature, or to measure him by the weak∣ness which I acknowledge in mine own person: but ra∣ther I avow our Saviour to be so great, that our thoughts, which are almost infinite, can adde nothing thereunto. For if the Divinitie of the Son could increase, I would dilate my self in it for augmentation of his praises, sup∣posing I could not better gain the gracious favour of the Celestial Father, than in glorifying the Son Eternal. But as I fear no jealousie on Gods side, so for my part I make no account to esteem my self so great an Oratour, that thereby it may be in my power to adde any thing to the glory of the Divinitie by my words. I acknowledge my self to be infirm and frail, I praise God proportionably to my forces, and not answerably to the measure of his greatness. As for the rest, I beseech you to afford me the Treatise of faith, of which you heretofore gave me a tast, adding thereunto the Disputation of the Holy Ghost, in such sort, that you prove his Divinitie by the Scripture and reason. Hereupon I pray God (dear Father, and true servant of God, whom I adore) that he many years preserve you in safetie.

This Letter, he that will consider it, shall find to be full of much sense; and verily Saint Ambrose was so ravished herewith, that he confesseth never to have seen nor read at that time the like. This good Em∣perour (saith he) wrote to him with his own hand, as Abraham, who himself prepared the dinner for * 2.3 his guests, not giving commission thereof to his own servants. He wrote holy words unto him, as if he had an ear in Heaven; and which is more remarke∣able, it was in a time when he was upon the point of a journey to resist Barbarians, and therefore he pur∣posely took the arms of faith from this great Bi∣shop. For observe, this young eaglet from the se∣cond year of his Empire found business enough For Athanaricus King of the Goths, entered into Thracia with a formidable Army: and as Gratian amassed together all his Eastern troups to make head against him, the Ba••barians imagining with themselves that the Western Empire was unfurnished, fell upon the Gauls, whither the Emperour went with admirable expedition to succour them, and it was at the time when he wrote this letter, and most particularly re∣commended himself to Saint Ambrose, taking the standard of faith from him, to bear it in the front of his flourishing Legions. This was not without * 2.4 very notable success: for by relation of Ammianus Marcellinus, he bare himself most valiantly in this journey, although very young, undergoing toyls, and ever appearing in the head of the army to encourage the souldiers by his presence, which so enkindled them, that they resolved to confront the enemy, as soon as might be, and defeated them at Strasbourg, with so horrible a slaughter, that of seventy thou∣sand Barbarians, threescore and five thousand cover∣ed the field with their massacred bodies, leaving young Gratian to make a harvest in the chief field of Mars, moistened with the palms of his own sweats, but above all, blessed by the prayers of great S. Am∣brose. As the Emperour returned from this conquest, he received letters from the holy Prelate, where a∣mong other things, excusing himself that he had not accompanied him, he saith:

It is not the want of affection, Most Christian Empe∣rour * 2.5 (for what title can I give you either more true or more glorious?) It is not, I say, the want of affection hath absented me from your person, but modestie joyned to the decorum of my profession; yet at your return I present my self before you, if not with bodily steps, at the least with the whole affections of my heart, and all the vows, wherewith I could charge the Altars; and in this, the dutie of a Bishop principally consisteth. But it is mistaken to say, that I came before you, as if I had been separated from you, having perpetually attended you in mind, marching along with you in your thoughts, heart, and good favour, which is the most noble presence I can desire. I measured your journeys, I went along with your Armie, I was in your camp day and night, with all my co∣gitations, and with all my cares; I stood centinel with my prayers, and those of my Clergie, at your Imperial Pa∣villion. How much I was little in merit, so much the more did I raise my self in diligence and assiduitie. And rendering this dutie for you, I did it for the whole Church: herein do I use no flatterie, for you love it not, and well know it to be far from my nature, and the place which I hold, but God is a witness with us both, how much you have comforted my heart by the sinceritie of your faith, to whom he hath afforded such prosperitie, and so much glorie. I ow this acknowledgement both to the pub∣lick and your particular amitie: for you have granted me the repose of my Church, you have stopped the mouthes of the perfidious (and by my good will I wish you had as well shut up their hearts) and this have you done with marvellous authoritie, fortitude, and faith.

The holy Emperour ceased not afterward to ob∣lige the Church in all occasions, by the favour of his Edicts, and shewed himself so openly zealous, that even he, first of all the Emperours merited the title of Most Christian, given afterward to our Kings. His Predecessours who professed Christianity, ever suffered their reputation to be dishonoured with many blemishes, which much weakened the worth of their actions; but Gratian was the most royal and sincere of them all; for he so little complied with the * 2.6 Gentiles, that their Priests coming together to of∣fer him the title and habit of Great Pontife, which all the Christian Emperours had yet for ceremony and reason of State, retained, this good Prince con∣fidently refused it by the counsel of Saint Ambrose; and although the Gentiles were so much moved, they could not abstain from words of menace, he contemned all humane respects, where the glory of God was interessed. As for the rest, to consider fur∣ther the energy of the discretion of this holy Bishop, it is to be noted that the faith of Gratian, his tender plant, was not a languishing and idle faith, but much employed in the exercise of good works, which Au∣sonius, a worldly man, could not sufficiently admire in his schollar, well seeing he knew much more than his Master.

He who observed the most particular actions of * 2.7 the life of this Emperour, hath left in writing, that from the time of his childhood, never did he let any day pass, without praying to God most devoutly, daily rendering some vow to Altars; and that those who knew his most secret thoughts, gave assurance he lived in unspeakable purity of heart, and more∣over, he was very sober and abstinent in his ordinary course of life: and for as much as toucheth and con∣cerneth chastity, it might well be said, that the Altar of Vestal Virgins, where perpetually burned a sacred fire which purged all, was not more holy than the chamber of Gratian, nor the couches prepared in

the Temple for ceremonies, more chaste than his Im∣perial bed. He had the heart of a mother towards his poor subjects, and the beginning of his Empire was consecrated by the comfort of the people, for whom he much sweetened the taxes and subsidies, freely cutting off what was due to his own coffers; and to take away all cause of enquiry in time to come upon that which he liberally had granted, he commanded through all Cities, papers, and obliga∣tions of publick debts to be burnt. Never bon-fire more clearly blazed than the same; not a creature complained the smoak hurt his eyes. Every one prai∣sed the Emperour, beholding, that as his benefits were not frail and transitory, so the evils he took away, were never to return.

How could he but do well for the publick, seeing * 2.8 he was most liberal towards particulars? He was not contented to visite the sick, but himself led Physi∣tians along with him thither, causing them to mini∣ster at his charge, and in his own presence, that which was necessary for their recovery. He was seen after the defeat of the Barbarians which I spake of, to run into the Tents of his souldiers to enquire the number of the hurt, and himself with his own victorious hands to touch the wounds, and cause them instant∣ly to be drest, hastening and encouraging the surge∣ons. And if any poor souldier through distast refu∣sed to take broath, he would sit down by him, and charm him with such sweetness of words, till he ob∣tained of him that which conduced to his health. He ceased not to comfort the most afflicted, to con∣gratulate with the most happy, to enquire into the necessities of all the world, even to the making the packs of a poor subject to be carried by his own mules: and all this did he indefatigably with singu∣lar promptness and alacrity, void of oftentation, gi∣ving all and reproching no man.

Behold the fruits of the good education of S. Am∣brose, which well sheweth, that in making a good man of a great Prince, the whole world is obliged.

The twelfth SECTION. The death of the Emperour Gratian, and the afflictions of S. Ambrose.

OUt alas! Eternal God, who art elder than the beginning of time, and more durable than the end of Ages, must great gifts be so free∣ly given to the world to become so short? My pen abhorreth to pass beyond the bloud of this poor Prince, in whom the earth had nothing to wish but immortality. Behold what a wound it is for the Empire, what sorrow in the Church, and a touch∣stone to the virtue of S. Ambrose.

Gratian, after the death of his father, had reigned about seven years, when behold a monster started up in England, to dispossess its natural Prince, and cast fire and confusion into the Empire. It was Maximus, who according to the relation of Zosimus, was a Spaniard by Nation▪ companion of the great Theodo∣sius, and Captain of the Roman troups, which were then in great Britain.

This wicked man, vexed to the quick that the Em∣perour * 2.9 Gratian had associated Theodosius in the Em∣pire, without ever mentioning himself at all, resol∣ved to enter into the Throne by tyranny, since he could not arrive thither by any merit. Never Ty∣rant used more industrie to cover his ambition than did this man: Never hath any sought more support from the dissimulation of sanctity and justice; yet I beseech those who make account by the like ways to bring their purposes to pass, to learn by the success of Maximus, that if the arm of God sustain not an af∣fair, the more exaltation it receiveth, the deeper ruins it findeth.

Maximus then, a son of the earth, who had nothing great in him but the desire of reign, made himself sometime an English man, other-while a Spaniard, ever leaning to that side, where he saw most support for his affairs. As an English man, he laboured to have it thought he had some correspondence of af∣finity with Saint Helena mother of great Constan∣tine, and he was so impudent as to take the very name of that family, causing himself to be proudly called Flavius Clemens Maximus. As a Spaniard, he would be reputed the allye of Theodosius, whom he saw to be powerfull in the affairs, and whose force he more feared, than loved his advancement. As for Reli∣gion, he well discovered by the effect that he had no other God but honour. Notwithstanding like those who provide oyl to burn in the lamps of Idols, as well as in that of the living God, he embraced all sorts of Sects, making his arrows of every wood, so to hit the white of honour.

Verily, if there be any vice deserving the execra∣tion * 2.10 of all mankind, it is that which distendeth snares over Altars, and which under colour of piety and zeal, entrappeth men, Cities, and Provinces, with a kind of theft, which seeketh to make it self ho∣nourable under pretence of piety and Religion. This was very familiar with this bad man: for seeing ma∣ny Pagans of quality, who bit the bridle, expecting the re-establishment of Idols, he under-hand enter∣tained them with very fair hopes. On the other side, he favoured the Synagogue of Jews in secret, supposing these men being lost in Religion and con∣science, might one day serve his turn, though but to fill up ditches. But then beholding the Catholick Church in an eminent height, he openly courted it, and that with demonstrations of respect and service, which might seem to proceed from none but the most zealous.

Letters also of his were found written to the Em∣perour Valentinian the Second, where he made many declarations of the duty he owed to the Catholick Church, so compleat, that they seem much fitter for the mouth of a Bishop, than of a Tyrant. He speak∣eth of God like a Saint, saying: (a) 2.11 Great hecd must be taken not to contend with ones Master, and that sins committed against Religion, admit no excuse. He talks of Rome (b) 2.12 as a Pope, calling it in full voice, The most Venerable, and Princess of Religion. He seem∣ed to sweat bloud and water in defence of S. Am∣brose, whose virtue he infinitely feared, it being joyn∣ed to a liberty, which never accustomed to bow un∣der tyranny. In another Epistle, where he writeth to Pope Siricius, he tells, how going from the Font of Baptism, he had been transported to the Imperial Throne, which being ignorant of the life of the chil∣dren of God, he esteemeth an incomparable favour from Heaven, and in recompence thereof promiseth all service to the Church of Rome, satisfying himself onely to execute that, which should be commanded him, without any desire to enter into the knowledge of the cause.

Moreover, if he saw any forlorn Hereticks, who were feeble in faction, and much out of favour, he ran upon them with all manner of violence, and then shewing spiders webs, of one side filled with little flies, and on the other side all broken by crea∣tures of a larger size, he raiseth mightie tropheyes, thinking so to piece out his fortune by the effusion of contemptible bloud. In this manner he caused Priscillian, and many other of his Sect to be put to death, who were Hereticks possessed with a black and melancholy devil; and such as in truth, ac∣cording to the laws both divine and humane, well deserved punishment, but not according to the pro∣ceedings

were observed in their process, much bla∣med by S. Martin and other wise Bishops, who took notice of passions over-bloudy, even in the Ecclesia∣sticks, that sought after spoil.

O God! it is verily one of the greatest unhappi∣nesses * 2.13 of humane life, to say, that vices keep shop near to virtues, and often deceive the best experienced merchants with their artifices. That is most true which is spoken by Albertus the Great, Master of Saint Thomas: Severitie counterfeiteth justice: me∣lancholy calleth it self gravitie: babble stealeth in∣to the name of affabilitie, as doth dissolution pass under colour of free mirth. The prodigal saith he is an honest man; the covetous, provident; the self-conceited, constant; the craftie, prudent; cu∣riosity borroweth the title of circumspection; vain∣glory, of generosity; presumption, of hope; carnal love, of charity; dissimulation, of patience; pusilla∣nimity, of mildness; indiscreet zeal, of fervour in matter of Religion: and the worst of all is, hypo∣crisie puts on the mask of sanctity. Yet if with these * 2.14 semblances and borrowed faces, they onely deceived vulgar souls, it were somewhat tollerable; but it is a thing most deplorable, that the subtile, who have no other God but their own interests, by slight com∣placences and petty affectations of devotion, en∣snare noble and Religious souls, who, measuring all by their own innocency, daily afford more support to credulity. A little outward shew handsomly exprest, ravisheth men with admiration, and cau∣seth Altars to be raised to them, for whom God hath prepared gibbets. There are also many silly * 2.15 birds, who seeing the fowler with blear and run∣ning eyes, role a huge pair of beads in his hands, say, this is a holy man, and full of compassion: but the more judicious answer, We must not regard his eyes nor beads, but the bloud and rapine which is in his hands.

Had Maximus been beheld upon this side, he had never deceived the world, but his plaistered devoti∣ons served his turn to amuze easie natures, whilest his ambitions cleft mountains to climb to the Throne of Caesars. Pope Siricius, beguiled with the mask of this false piety, gave demonstration of much affection to him; and when he was declared Emperour, many Bishops used with him at Trier sundry complements, which too near approched to servitude. There was none at that time but our Saint Martin, who held a strong power over this spirit: and the wily Maxi∣mus, who well foresaw there was no resistance to be used against a stroke of thunder, submitted with all pliantness and postures, to draw this great Prelate to his amity. He, who heretofore made himself to be petitioned unto by the Bishops, received the com∣mandments of S. Martin as decrees, and endeavour∣ed to yield him all satisfaction.

One desire onely he fixed in his heart, which was some one time to invite this holy man to his table, to wipe away all the ill reputation of which the most judicious could not be ignorant: but S. Martin con∣stantly refused it, until Maximus upon a time having made a thousand protestations of the sincerity of his intentions in that point, which concerned the usur∣pation of the Empire, the man of God, whether per∣swaded by reasons, or mollified by so many prayers, went thither, and used there passages of generosity, which you shall know.

In this banquet were present the false Emperour * 2.16 Maximus, with his brother, and his uncle, a Consul, and two Counts. S. Martin for his honour was pla∣ced in the middle, near the person of Maximus, and when about the midst of dinner, the cup-bearer pre∣sented a goblet to his Master, he for a singular testi∣mony of his affection, put it into the hands of the good Bishop, seeming to have a holy ambition to drink therein after it was consecrated by the touch of his lips: but S. Martin not using any other com∣plement, when he had drunk, gave the cup to his Dea∣con, as esteeming him the most worthy person of the feast next himself. Maximus, who infinitely seemed to be pleased therewith, although he inwardly felt himself gauled with this liberty, did so outwardly dissemble it, that he caused S. Martin to be applaud∣ed through all his Court, protesting that none but ••e was worthy the title of a Bishop, and that he had done at the table of an Emperour, what the other Bishops would never have acted in the house of a mean Judge. On the other side, the wife of Maxi∣mus, who already possessed the title of Empress, made her self a Magdalen at the feet of Saint Martin; and although never woman touched this chaste creature, he suffered her to exercise all sort of ceremonies to∣wards him, undergoing a thousand troubles to rid himself of her importunities. This seemed not strange in the age of threescore and ten, and in the reputation of sanctity wherewith he had filled the world, that a woman should kiss his feet: but it was a thing very unusual to behold a Princess, hum∣bled in the dust of the earth, to perform this office: She regarded neither purple, diadem, quality, nor Empire, she had no eyes but for S. Martin, being blind to the rest of the world.

After this first banquet, Maximus and the Ladie went to the Saint, and besought him again to take a bad dinner, which the Empress would in private prepare for him with her own hands: and although he in the beginning refused, it was impossible for him to escape from these Saint-like invitations. For these are snares which catch eagles as well as spar∣rows. Needs would the Queen do all offices in this second feast: She played the cook, dressed the di∣ning-room, laid the cloth, gave to the holy man wa∣ter for his hands, was his cup-bearer, and waited on him all the time of his meal, standing bolt upright as a servant, with her mind intentive on her office. Din∣ner being ended, she did eat the scraps and remaind∣er of the table, which she preferred before all the Im∣perial delicacies. Verily, we may say women are violent in their affections, and, when once they go the right way, their virtues have no mean. I will not seek to penetrate the Ladies intentions, which I suppose were very good; but considering the pro∣ceedings of Maximus, there is great cause to think he endeavoured by his infinite courtship, to charm the nature of Saint Martin, which to him seemed somewhat harsh. Yet the great man, endowed with the spirit of prophesie, freely told all which should befal him.

Behold some part of the disposition of Maximus, which I was willing to present on paper, that it might appear of what condition they ordinarily are, who bear arms against the obedience due to Kings, who are the lively images of God. The Ty∣rant began a revolt in England, and from that time determined to establish the Citie of Trier in Germa∣nie, as the seat of his Empire, and thence to raise a pair of wings to flie above the clouds, which were Italie and Spain. He chose for his Constable, a man very consonant to his humour, and of great resolu∣tion, who caused himself to be called the Good man, the better to colour the wickedness of his Ma∣ster. With this bad Councellour he endeavoured to stir up the souldiers, and on every side drew the war∣lick troups to his party. The good Emperour Gra∣tian speedily armeth, to stiffle tyranny in the birth thereof, and in person goeth to encounter his adver∣sary. He had then very freshly drawn good souldi∣ers from the Kingdom of Hungarie to his assistance, of whom he made much account. Others seeing that he much esteemed of them, were stung with jealousie, and grew cold in their Masters behalf. The poor Prince being on the point to wage battel, found

himself carelesly and traiterously abandoned by his legions, who daily stole away to increase the Army and strength of Maximus.

This black and hydeous treason much amazed the Emperour, who complained, as the Eagle in the Em∣blem, that his own feathers gave him the storke of death, seeing his souldiers, who should have born him on their wings, delivered him to his enemy, through a neglect, which shall make the Roman history to blush eternally. So that seeing there was no safety for his person, he sought to regain Italie as soon as possible, accompanied onely with a full troup of horse, consi∣sting of about three hundred men.

Maximus well discovered, that he would at any price whatsoever have the bloudy spoil of his Ma∣ster: For he charged this Good man to pursue him with all violence and not to desist till the prey were in his clutches; which he did, taking horses with him, who ran like a tempest, and could well endure any te∣dious travel. In the end, he met with the Emperour at Lyons, and fearing he might escape, bethought himself of a mischievous stratagem. For he secretly caused the Emperour to be enformed, the Empress his wife was in danger of her person, if he stayed not some while to expect her, because she was resolved to fol∣low him; thinking no place capable of safety or con∣solation where her husband was not.

This false report much softened the heart of Gra∣tian, who was as good a husband as an Emperour; he therefore resolved to hasten to the Empress, though not without evident danger of his life. There is an unspeakable power in the love of neighbours, which is the cause that birds and fishes are oft-times volun∣tarily caught with twigs and nets not fearing to put their life in danger, where they see some part of them∣selves to be. This Prince, who in the extreamest di∣sasters of his fortune, was full of courage, and flew every where like a flash of lightening, to give order to his affairs, at the news that the Empress was on her way to follow him, was much terrified; nor was * 2.17 there an object of peril which he framed not in his thoughts: Moments seemed days unto him and days as Ages. A thousand santasies of affrightment sum∣moned his heart in his solitude. There was no living for him, if he beheld not his dearest love in his arms. She was a Princess of much merit, daughter of the Emperour Constantius, born after the death of her fa∣ther; whom Gratian faithfully loved, though he as yet had no issue by her.

The Tyrant understanding his game succeeded to * 2.18 his wish, made a litter to pass along much like to that of the Empress, and disposed his ambushes round about in the way. The Emperour perceiving it afar off, and supposing his wife Constantia was in it, spurs his horse, and flyeth with those wings which love and joy gave him, being at that time followed by few of his people. The murderers assailed and massacred him, but he still shewing the courage of a Lion, bare himself bravely amongst swords and halbards, leaving the mark of his hand all bloudy on a wall, as S. Hie∣rom hath observed, and ever having on his lips the * 2.19 name of S. Ambrose. His body, after the soul depart∣ed, was taken up to be presented to Maximus, as the monument of a faithfull assassinate.

O God! who shall here be able to cleave a cloud, to read through so much darkness, and so many shadows, the secrets of your Providence? This poor Abel butchered by the hand of a Cain, with a cruelty so barbarous, a manner so perfidious, and a success so deplorable! A Prince, who sheltered the whole world under the valour of his arms, for∣saken by the most trusty servants of his house! An Emperour most Religious, separated by death from the assistances of Altars! A Monarch most just, given as a prey to injustice! One of the best Ma∣••••••rs of the earth slain by servile hands, and used like a beast among the halbards, and courtelaxes of his own servitours! So many rare qualities as were in him, leave nothing else to mortals, but the sorrow to have lost him.

A man, who deserved to have lived Ages, torn from his Throne and life in his 28^•h year, after a reign so advantagious to the Church, and wishfull to all the world! O Providence! Must he pass away, as the foam glideth on the face of the water? Must he be hayl-strucken, as the Crown Imperial, the honour of a garden, in the height of his beauty? Must he wither, as lightening causeth pearls in their growth, leaving them in stead of a substance, nought else but a shell? O God! What bloud of Abels must be shed in all Ages, to teach us a lesson, which telleth, the reward of our children consisteth not in the favour and prosperities of the world, but that seeing in such innocency they are so roughly hand∣led, your justice hath infallibly disposed them for another life, where they live covered with the pur∣ple and glory of your Son, whose sufferings they have imitated.

The poor Constantia, wife of Gratian, hearing this lamentable news, was seized with overwhelming sor∣row, and as soon as she came to herself again, Ab Gra∣tian (saith she) my Lord, and dear husband, I have then found an evil worse than your death, which is, to have been the cause of the same. Must my name be so much abused? Must the love of a creature so caytive as I am, engage into danger a life so important as yours?

I began my unhappiness from the day of my birth, be∣ing * 2.20 born after the death of my father Constantius, na∣ture not permitting me to see him, who gave me life. That little age I have, hath not ceased to be turmoiled with many uncertainties, which enforce me to reap thorns in the fortune of Caesars, where the world imagineth ro∣ses. Yea, I avow (my most honoured Lord) that this ac∣cident hath outgone all my apprehensions. For although I figured you mortal as a man, I could not suppose that he in whom all my charities and hopes survived, should be taken from me so suddenly, in a fortune so eminent, in an age so flourishing, with a death so unworthie of his goodness, not leaving me at the least a son in my entrails to be born of me, as his mother; and which is worse, that I instantly must (Ob my dearest Gratian, the sweetest amongst all men living) redeem your bloudie bodie with the price of gold, from the hands of a wretched slave. My God, I confess I have no strength to bear these calamities so violent, if you afford it not.

The news of this death, which flew like a fatal bird through all the world, transfixed the hearts of all good men. The little Valentinian resented it beyond his age, seeing himself deprived of a brother, whom he so faithfully had loved. S. Ambrose, though most couragious, selt himself as it were surprized with sor∣row and sadness, not being able to unlose his tongue to pronounce any funeral Oration. All the Court was infinitely affrighted, as if Maximus had already been at the gates of Milan to finish the catastrophe of the Tragedy. Justina the Empress, mother of young Valentinian, taking the care of affairs for her son in minority, instantly made her address to S. Ambrose, and besought him to undertake an Embassage, and pre∣sent himself before Maximus, so to divert the stream of his arms, which came to pour themselves on Italie, and to demand the body of his pupil; humbly pray∣ing, not to neglect him dead, whom he alive had so faithfully served.

The thirteenth SECTION. The Embassage of S. Ambrose.

OUr great Prelate couragiously undertook the business, fortifying his heart with assistances of

Heaven, to treat with the murderer of his son, for one may well say, the love he bare to the dead, equalled that of fathers towards their children.

The acts of his first Embassage are lost, although the effect hath been sufficiently published. Which was the diversion of the arms of Maximus, so much feared by the Empress Justina. But as for the Em∣perours body, it was impossible to gain it from him; for Maximus said, he with-held it upon a point of State, well knowing this spectacle would have no other effect, but to exasperate the memory of what was past, and that the souldiers through fury might revenge the dead body, much ashamed they had be∣trayed their living Emperour.

This wicked man insatiable in his desires, and perfi∣dious in his promises, soon repented to have signed the peace, complaining that Ambrose had with his fair words cast him into a sleep; he was full of im∣petuous passions, and incessantly threatned to pass in∣to Italie, nor should any thing hereafter hinder his in∣tentions, which made S. Ambrose enterprize a second Embassage, at the sollicitation of the Empress Justi∣na, of whom we have a most faithfull narration from the pen of the Saint himself, in an Epistle which he wrote to the Emperour Valentinian, to yield him an account of his Commission. There he relateth, how being arrived in the Citie of Trier, where Maximus had placed his Throne, that he the next morning went to the Palace to speak to him in private. The treacherous man, who with so many Legions could not endure the counterbuff of truth, delivered by a Bishop, thinking to silence him, sent one of the gen∣tlemen of his chamber, to demand if he had any let∣ters from Valentinian to deliver him, if so, he should receive answer, but that he might not speak to the Emperour himself, but in full Councel. S. Ambrose re∣plieth, that was not the audience, which is usually given to persons of his quality; that he had most im∣portant affairs to handle, which might better be pri∣vately expressed in his cabinet, than at the Councel-table. He prayed the gentleman of his chamber, to let him know this his request, which indeed was most civil. He did so, but brought back no other answer, but that he should be heard in Councel. The good Bishop said, that was somewhat too far from his pro∣fession; but he notwithstanding would omit nothing of his duty, preferring the memory of the dead, and the affairs of his living Prince, before all the interests of his own person.

He came then to the Councel-table, where Maxi∣mus * 2.21 sate on his Throne, who seeing S. Ambrose, rose up to give him the kiss, according to the custom of that Age: but the Bishop taking place among the Counsellours, who very honourably invited him to sit uppermost, freely said to Maximus: I wonder how you offer the kiss of peace to a man of whom you are ignorant, for were I well known in the rank I hold, you should not see me here. Maximus amazed at this liberty, could not say ought else, but, Bishop you are in choller. S. Am∣brose replieth: I have more shame than anger in me, to see my self in a place where I should not be. Notwith∣standing (saith Maximus) you might have learnt the way, having been here once already. It is a double fault in you (replieth the Prelate) to have summoned me twice. Thereupon Maximus: Why came you hither? To demand peace of you (answereth S. Ambrose) which I have required as of an inferiour, and you now enforce me to seek it as from an equal.

The proud man who thought himself lessened, if compared to the Emperour Valentinian, was moved at these words, and cried out: How equal? By whose favour? By the favour of God (answereth S. Ambrose) who hath preserved that Empire in Valentinian, which he gave him. Maximus at this word entered into vio∣lence. It is you (saith he) that have deceived me, and your goodly Count Bauton, who under pretext to preserve the Empire for a child, made other accommodations for himself, and for this effect is joyned with Barbarians, to invite them to pass into the Empire. And who hath more credit than I, to cause them to march under my Stand∣ards when I list? I have thousands under my pay, by whom I can be served before all the men in the world; and had you not stopped the course of mine arms with your goodly Embassage, no man living had been able to oppose me. He spake this with quick flashes of choller.

The holy Bishop coldly answered: It is dishonour∣able in you to reproch my Embassage, and put your self upon these extravagancies. For to whom appertaineth it to defend widows and orphans, if not to a Bishop? That is it, which the law of my Master commandeth me. Judge in favour of the orphan, and defend the widow, and deliver the weak from oppression. Notwithstanding, I will not give so much credit to my Embassage, as to per∣swade my self it hath staid the course of your arms. What squadrons have I opposed against you? What wals? What rocks? Have I stopped up the passage of the Alpes with mine own bodie? By my will could I so have done; I should account all your objections as a glorie to me. But you your self sent the Count Victor, whom I met at Mentz, to treat of peace: Wherein hath Valentinian de∣ceived you, if he have granted the peace, which you de∣manded of him? In what hath the Count Bauton played false with you, unless you term it deceit to be faithfull to his Master? In what have I beguiled you? Was it then when you said, that Valentinian need not put me to the trouble of this Embassage, but come himself in person, as a son to his father; and that I freely answered you, There was no likelyhood to see a Princess, widow of a great Em∣perour, to put her self into the way with her son, tender of age, and feeble of body, to pass the Alpes in the extre∣mities of winter: and that as for the child, whom you de∣sired onely to see, the mother so much affected him, she could in no sort suffer him to be separated from her? Is not this the answer was given to your Embassadour in the Citie of Milan, when I was then present with you? What deceit find you in this proceeding? Did I ever promise you the coming of the Emperour, and have I failed you in my faith? Have I diverted your troups? Have I staid your Eagles? Where are those Barbarians, which the Count Bauton caused to pass into Italie? Verily if he who is a stranger should have called people of his Nation to the succour of his Master, it would be very excusable, since you, who are so much interessed in the preservation of the Roman Empire, threaten us that you have Bar∣barians under your pay, whom you can make to over-run us when you please.

Behold a little, the difference that is between the sweetness of Valentinian, and your menaces: You are much troubled not to have fallen upon Italie with Bar∣barian Legions, and Valentinian hath graciously divert∣ed the forreign Gauls, whom be had invited to his ser∣vice, whilest you in the mean time make waste on the Grizons, with your Barbarians: he hath bought peace for you with his own money, and you with ingratitude repay him.

Behold your brother, who is now by your side, and you shall see an irreproachable testimonie of the Emperours clemencie. He held in his Province, and hands, that which is most dear to you in the world. Every one thought it was reason to revenge the ashes of the Emperour Gra∣tian upon a near allie of him, who was the authour of his death, and yet Valentinian upon the news of the assas∣sinate committed upon his most honourable brother, and in the greatest fervour of his most just passion, hath so moderated himself, as to send him back with honour, whom he might with justice have hereft you. Compare your self presently with him, and make your self Judge in your proper cause. He hath restored you your brother in perfect health: render him his at the least thus dead as he is. Why do you denie him the ashes of his brother, since he hath not refused your satisfactions yea to his own

prejudice? He hath afforded you a man in like degree of alliance, though in quality much different. He hath grant∣ed you one alive; render him one dead to yield him the last offices. A Tartarian covered with sand a Pyrate, which he by chance found dead upon the sea shore; and you denie us to bury with our own hands the prime Mo∣narch of the world? You take from a Queen-mother, from a widow-Empress, from an orphan-Emperour, the bones of a son, a husband, a brother, whom you have de∣prived of life and scepter. The bodies of reprobates are taken down from the gallouss, to put them into the arms of their mothers; what hath the bodie of Gratian done to be bereaved after death, the charitie of his Allies? Why do you forbid us tears, which very Tyrants themselves, who have torn eyes out, have never denied to the afflicted? You fear (say you) it may exasperate minds, that is to say, you fear a death, which you have caused, and which you have unworthily procured, even then, when you might and ought to save it by all ways of justice and humanitie. And tell me not he was your enemie, you were his, but he never yours. For hostilitie comes from an usurper, and defence from a lawfull Prince. You do well to justifie your self upon this attempt, but there is not a man will believe your justifications. Who sees not you hated his life, whose burial you hinder?

Paulinus addeth, that for conclusion he dealt with him as one excommunicate, and seriously adviseth him to expiate the bloud he had shed, by a sharp penance.

This liberty of our admirable Prelate amazed all the Councel: and Maximus, who never thought that a Priest in the heart of his State, in the midst of his Legions, in the presence of his Court, could have the courage to tell him, that which he would never en∣dure to hear in his Cabinet, commanded him speedi∣ly to depart from the Court. All those who were friends of the holy man, advised him to be watch∣full upon the ambushes and treason of Maximus, who found himself much galled, but he full of confi∣dence in God, put himself on the way, and wished Valentinian to treat no otherwise with Maximus but as with a covert enemy, which did afterward appear most true. But Justina the Empress, thinking S. Am∣brose had been over-violent, sent upon a third Embas∣sage Domnin, one of her Counsellours, who, desirous to smooth the affairs with servile sweetness, thrust them upon despair of remedie.

The fourteenth SECTION. The persecution of S. Ambrose raised by the Empress Justina.

WE may well say there is some Furie, which bewitcheth the spirits of men in these la∣mentable innovations of pretended Reli∣gions, since we behold effects to arise which pass into humane passions, not by an ordinary way. Scarcely could Justina the Empress freely breath air, being, as she thought, delivered from the sword of Maximus, which hung over her head, tyed to a silken threed, when forthwith she despoiled her self furiously, to persecute the authour of her liberty. O God, what a dangerous beast is the spirit of a woman, when it is unfurnished of reason, and armed with power! It is able to create as many monsters in essence, as fan∣tasie can form in painting. Momus desired the sa∣vage bull should have eyes over his horns, and not borns over his eyes: but Justina at that time had bra∣zen horns to goar a Prelate, having eyes neither above nor beneath, to consider whom she struck. Authority served as a Sergeant to her passion, and the sword of Monarchs was employed to satisfie the desperate humours of a woman surprized with er∣rour, and inebriated with vengeance. Saint Ambrose like a sun darted rays on her, and she, as the Atlantes, who draw their bowe against this bright star, the heart of the world, shot back again arrows of oblo∣quie. As women well instructed and zealous in mat∣ter * 2.22 of Religion, are powerfull to advance the Chri∣stian cause, so when they once have sucked in any pe∣stilent doctrine, they are caprichious to preserve their own chymeraes. The mistresses of Solomon, after they had caused their beauties to be adored, made their idols to be worshipped: so Justina, when she had gain∣ed credit as the mother of the Emperour, and Regent in his minority, endeavoured to countenance the A∣rian Sect, wherein she was passionate, that the sword * 2.23 of division might pass through the sides of her own son into the heart of the Empire.

The Arians had in the Eastern parts been ill intrea∣ted under the Empire of Theodosius, and many of them were fled to Milan under the conduct of a false Bishop, a Scythian by Nation, and named Auxentius, as their head, but who for the hatred the people of Milan bore to this name of Auxentius, caused himself to be called Mercurinus.

He was a crafty and confident man, who having insinuated himself into the opinion of the Empress, failed not to procure by all possible means, the ad∣vancement of his Sect, and did among other things, very impudently demand a Church in the Citie of Milan, for the exercise of Arianism.

Justina, who in her own hands held the soul of * 2.24 her son Valentinian as a soft piece of wax, gave it such figure as best pleased her, and being very cunning, there was not any thing so unreasonable, which she did not ever colour with some fair pretext, to dazle the eyes of a child. She declared unto him, that the place she possessed near his persō, wel deserved to have a Church in Milan, wherein she might serve God ac∣cording to the Religion which she had professed from her younger days, and that it was the good of his State, peacefully to entertain every one in the Re∣ligion he should chose, since it was the proceeding of his father Valentinian, which she by experience knew had well succeeded with him.

To this she added the blandishments of a mother, which ever have much power over a young spirit: so that the Emperour perswaded by this Syren, sent to seek S. Ambrose, and declared unto him, that for the good of his State, and peace of his people, it was in agitation to accommodate his thrice-honoured mo∣ther, and those of her Sect, with a Church in Milan.

At this word S. Ambrose roared like a Lion, which made it appear he never would yield to the execution of such requests. The people of Milan, who honour∣ed their Prelate as the lively image of the worlds Sa∣viour, when they once perceived that Valentinian had suddenly called him, and that some ill affair was in hand, they left their houses, and came thundering from all parts to the Palace, whereat Justina was somewhat astonished, fearing there was some plot in it, and so instantly commanded the Captain of the Guard to go out and disperse the rude multitude, which he did, and presenting himself with the most resolute souldiers, he found no armed hands to resist him, but huge troups of people, which stretched out their necks and cried aloud, They would die for the defence of their faith and Pastour.

These out-cries proceeding as from men affrighted, terrified the young Emperour, and seeing the Cap∣tain of his Guards could use no other remedie, he besought S. Ambrose to shew himself to the people, to mollifie them, and promise, that for the business now treated, which was to allow a Church to the Hereticks, never had those conclusions been decreed, nor would he ever permit them. S. Ambrose appear∣ed, and as soon as he began to open his mouth, the people were appeased, as if they had been charm∣ed with his words; whereupon the Empress grew

very jealous, seeing with the arms of sanctity, doctrine, and eloquence, he predominated over this multitude, as the winds over the waves of the sea.

A while after to lessen the great reputation of S. Ambrose, * 2.25 she determined to oppose her Auxentius a∣gainst him in a publick reputation: and though she in her own conscience wel understood that he in know∣ledge was much inferiour to S. Ambrose, notwithstan∣ding she reputed him impudent enough, and a great talker, to stupifie weak judgements. She perswaded her self, that of two things one would happen; either that S. Ambrose, refusing disputatiō, would leave some suspition of his inability, or, accepting it, engage his authority. This powerful woman, unable to bow hea∣ven, resolved to stir hell. She obtained a Mandat from the Emperour her son, by which it was enjoyned to S. Ambrose to be on a day nominated at the Palace, to confer in his presence upon points of Religion against Auxentius, on this condition, that Judges should be appointed for both parts, to decide their difference. The Tribune Dalmatius was the bearer of this Man∣dat, who wished S. Ambrose by word of mouth, that he should hasten to name the Judges, which he inten∣ded to choose for his party; and that Auxentius had already nominated his, who were all Pagans, to take away thereby the suspition might be framed against those of his Sect. He caused also certain words silent∣ly to slip from him by the subtility of Justina, by the which he advised him handsomly to escape, and go whither he thought good, if he would not accept of this challenge. S. Ambrose had a strange horrour upon this Mādat, seeing how the cunning of a passionate wo∣man, & the impudence of a shameless Heretick tyran∣nized over the feeble spirit of an infant, enforcing him to demand this hateful Conference, which seemed to be permitted for nothing, but to expose the venerable Mysteries of our Religion to the scorn of Pagans. He would by no means go to the Palace to excuse him∣self, fearing he might seem to transfer a cause meerly Ecclesiastical, to a Princes Court: but he made a grave answer to the Emperour, which is now extant in his Works, where among other things, the Arians condemning his refusal, and taxing him of contuma∣cy for giving occasion of jealousie to the Emperour, * 2.26 upon the over-great authority of S. Ambrose, he saith:

Sacred Majesty, He that accuseth my refusal of * 2.27 contumacy, accuseth the law of your father of inju∣stice. He, who was a man most accomplished in arms and great affairs, who signed his faith with the seal of his constancy, and the wisdom of his counsels by the happiness of his State, ever witnessed both by his words and Edicts, that it appertained to none but Bishops to judge of Bishops. You, who are tender of age, little experienced, nay, a Catechumene in faith, will judge of mysteries, which you have not yet learned. If this seem reasonable unto you, the laity may hereafter mount into the Chair, and have those for their flock, whom they have had for their Pastours, which can never be done but by perverting the order of this Universe. God forbid I should choose Judges of the laity, to make them either Pre∣varicatours of faith, or victims of the vengeance of our enemies. It sufficeth me to leave my life therein, which I so long have consecrated to the defence of the Church, and not engage others in the peril. I hold the faith of the Nicene Councel, from which neither the sword nor death shall ever separate me. I am ready to defend it at the Church, not in the Court, where never had I been, but for you; and whereof I better love not to know the customs, than learn the cunning. As concerning this which I hear, that your Majesty offereth me peaceably to retire where I shall think good; God himself knows with how much endeavour I avoided the burden your father himself, of glorious memory, laid on my shoulders: Now I cannot with freedom dis∣charge my self in conscience, since the Bishops, my associates, crie out aloud unto me, that it were one and the same crime in my person, either to leave or betray the Altars.

Justina, much moved with the liberty of these words, complained in her Palace, that among so ma∣ny Legions there could not be a man so faithfull, as to deliver her from the importunities of a Priest, pro∣mising offices and singular favours in Court, to any that would lead him into exile.

One named Euthymius offered himself, who having purposely hired a house near to the Church, provi∣ded a Coach well furnished to carry away S. Ambrose at his coming from divine Service: but never was i•• possible for him to perform his promise, by reason of the great press of the people, which perpetually en∣vironed their Pastour. But much otherwise, this mi∣serable undertaker, the year circumvolving, the same day whereon he resolved to execute his design upon the holy man, after he had shamefully been disgraced, was banished, and carried away in the same Coach he had prepared for S. Ambrose; as it is said, Perillus Authour of Phalaris his bull, was the first that han∣selled it; and Hugh Ambriot, who caused the Bastille to be built, was the first that went into it in the qua∣lity of a Prisoner, there to end his days. Another na∣med Caligo••ius, a Groom of the Chamber to the Em∣perour, threatned S. Ambrose to cut off his head with his own hands; the holy man answered: If God per∣mit * 2.28 thee to execute what thou sayest, thou will act but what Eunuchs do, and I shall endure that which ordina∣rily the Bishop suffer.

Some time after, as if Heaven had fought against the Prelates enemies, this wicked man, although an Eunuch, being accused of some impurity by a Cur∣tezan, passed the dint of the sword, which he would have drawn against his Bishop. In the end, the Em∣press resolved to play out the rest of her game, and exercise the whole extent of her power. She obtain∣ed bloudy Edicts, which she her self made to satisfie her own passion: She armed her Auxentius, as the in∣strument of her fury: She caused it to be published aloud, that all Ecclesiasticks, who would not deliver the Church which was in question, should be held as criminals of treason. She caused Squadrons of inso∣lent souldiers to run up and down the streets, and cast terrour into the minds of the most confident. That was the time, when the bruit of peril wherein S. Am∣brose was, being spred through the Citie, universally drew all the people to the Church, each one endea∣vouring to make a bulwark for him of his own body, and never forsaking him either day or night. Tri∣bunes and Captains were dispatched to him, who sig∣nified the Emperours pleasure, which consisted of three articles. The first was, he should speedily deliver the holy vessels, and all the moveables of the Church. The secōd, he should leave the place questioned in the Empresses dispose. The third, that in all haste he must go out of Milan, and that he should have free liberty to travel whither he pleased. The Bishop made answer, That those holy vessels were the inheritance of Jesus Christ, and as the Emperour had not abandoned the state of his Ancestours to Tyrants, so Ambrose would never betray the patrimony of his Master. Were gold and sil∣ver demanded which were his own proprieties, be would make no difficulty to afford them, but as for the goods of the Church, they were sacred pledges, which the Empe∣rour had no right to require, nor he to give. Then, for the Church demanded, It was the house of God, which his Predecessours Dionysius, Eustorgius, Myrocles, and others had couragiously defended & conserved, not to be profaned by Arians, but reverenced by Catholicks. More∣over, for that which concerned his banishment, it was a thing now incompatible with his life, for he more feared God, who had given him this charge, thā the Emperor, who would take it away; and that if Valentinian were ready

to do that which an exorbitant power permitted, Am∣brose was bent on his part to suffer whatsoever a good Pastour ought to endure for his flock, yea, should his body be torn piece-meal under the rack of persecution, yet his spirit should remain fast fixed to the Altar.

The history of the vine of Naboth was then read in the Church, and one part of it, where there passed in figure, was here expressed in verity. The denial of Saint Ambrose being reported in the Palace, the souldiers had commandement to invade the Church on every side, like a Town besieged. Never was a * 2.29 spectacle beheld more intermingled with terrour and piety. The Church of Milan was then as a Taberna∣cle of the Lord of hosts, which marched between the battalions under the conduct of the burning Pillar. There was nothing without, but souldiers, lances, pikes, and swords; within, but prayers, sermons, hymns, and canzonets. One while this admirable Pre∣late offered Sacrifice at the Altar, with great effusion of tears; then he mounted into the Chair, to encou∣rage and consolate the people; presently he introdu∣ced the symphony of Psalms; anon he gave answers to the Emperours Deputies. He travelled indefati∣gably, and appeared as another Judas Machabaeus, sometimes in the head, sometimes in the rere, and sometimes in the midst of the Army. He was in his Church like the Patriarch Noe in his Ark, confident in perils, peaceable in tempests, immoveable in all vio∣lences conspired to his ruin. The people by his ex∣ample in the tumult of the whole Citie, and deluge of roaring waters, were in this Tabernacle of peace, as if they had enjoyed the antipasts of Heaven. All were divided by companies to pray and watch, as in Heaven the Quires of Angels.

The good mother of S. Augustine was then by chance in Milan very far engaged in the business, for she was a Mary, sister of Moses, who served as an ex∣ample to all other women. At that time it was, when God more and more to comfort his faithfull crea∣tures, discovered to S. Ambrose the sacred bodies of S. Gervasius and Protasius, who heretofore had been martyred for the faith. When the holy Reliques were seen to be drawn out of vaults still bloudy, every one was enflamed with an incredible zeal for defence of Religion, much like the Elephants in the book of Ma∣chabees, who were stirred up at the sight of the juice of grapes. There was nothing but lights, musical con∣sorts, exultations, and triumphs.

The miserable Empress, who caused all things that passed, to be hourly related unto her, was now come to the condition of rage. Nothing was heard in the Citie but prohibitions, menaces, penalties, chains and imprisonments. In the end, the Provost was sent to Saint Ambrose, to perswade him, that he at the least would allow a Church in the suburbs, to satisfie Ju∣stina, and appease the sedition. The people prevented his answer, and cried out aloud, that could not be done. S. Ambros•• stretched out his hands, and shew∣ed his neck, signifying he was ready to receive fet∣ters and swords, yea, to be sacrificed on the Altar, ra∣ther than deliver up the Altar. They went to take the Church in the suburbs by force: the people ran thither to stand upon the defence thereof. The Em∣perial Ensigns thereon already fixed, in sign of posses∣sion, were abused even by little children.

It is a strange thing that Heaven, earth, and all the elements, men and women, great and small, noble and ignoble, ranged themselves on Saint Ambrose side. Yea, the souldiers themselves who were sent to take possession of the Church where the holy man was, entered therein, which at the beginning gave occasion of much terrour to the most timorous: but they lifting up their peaceable hands, cried out aloud, They were come to pray with the Catholicks, and not exercise violence on any man; letting also the Emperour know, that the Church belonged to him, as to a Catholick Emperour, there he should pray, there receive favours from above, there be in the Communion of true Christians. If it appertained to Hereticks, it would no longer be a place where the Emperour should feed on the Lamb, which is never eaten but in the true Church. His wicked mother ceased not to bewitch his mind, and breath in his ears, that Ambrose aimed at his State: for which cause a Commissary was dispatched to the Bishop, who roundly told him, he onely desired to know one thing of him: Whether he would usurp the Empire, to the end he might hereafter be treated withal as with a Tyrant?

S. Ambrose made answer, That his tyranny was in∣firmity, and his arms prayers and tears, which made him powerfull before God. That heretofore Priests had gi∣ven Kingdoms, but not usurped them. That there were some Emperours, who had desired Priesthood, but that Bishops never had aspired to Crowns. That Priests had often felt the sword of Tyrants, but Tyrants them∣selves had not at any time seen the sword of Priests un-sheathed against them. Let Maximus be asked, whether he were a Tyrant, for he was very well able to make relation of strange things. His tyranny was to serve the Emperour at the Altar, and to be sacrificed, if God suffer, in serving him.

It well appeared this was to run his head against a rock, to think of such an affair. The Emperour fear∣ing to engage his authority any further, by the advise of some good Councellers, gently struck sayl, leaving all matters whole and entire. S. Ambrose, who then in the Church explicated the history of Jonas, much wondered, how the tempest being ceased, he in an in∣stant came out of the whales belly.

The fifteenth SECTION. Maximus passeth into Italie.

YOu need but to cast a little earth abroad to scatter an army of Ants, to break their Oeco∣nomy and sport, making them rather to think upon flight than the pleasure of their pillage: so whilest Justina with the Arians was still employed in riots, and practises how to be revenged on S. Am∣brose, making use of the innocent spirit of her son, and authority of the Empire to satisfie her revenge, God raised an accident which made her think of other matters.

Domnin her goodly Embassadour, who departed from Maximus loaden with presents and fair words, little thinking thereof, was presently waited on by an army of the Tyrant, who had in him as much fervour as fire, and more infidelity than ice. So suddenly fell he upon Italie, that it was a great chance he had not taken the mother and her young-ones upon the nest. All which the Empress Justina could do, was spee∣dily to save her self with her sons and daughters, to set sayl on the sea, and pass to Thessalonica, a Citie of Greece, much renowned, were it but in S. Pauls Epistles.

Maximus finding no resistance, flowed like a tor∣rent over the fair fields of Italie, and made furious havock; though to take away the blemish of the bloud of the Emperour Gratian, and to gain the reputation of a good Prince, he shewed in the end some moderation.

It is verily a miracle of God, that he having been treated with by S. Ambrose with so much liberty, as we have said before & holding still the bloudy sword in the ruins of Italie, in a time when he might have done any thing which his passion dictated, he so brid∣led himself, that he not onely abstained from wrong∣ing the holy Prelate, but for his sake used the whole

Territory of Milan with the more humanity. It seemed the Citie of Milan under the influences of its Pastour, had the virtue of those sacred forrests, which tamed wolves: It tied up the throat of a ravenous wolf, and made him court his prey. Yet though she were without peril, she was not void of fear, seeing so many armed troups round about her, and smelling the smoak of those fires which wasted her neighbours. Then was the time, when the admirable Bishop acted things likewise worthy of his person. For, all the Ci∣tizens wavering, and almost ready to leave the Citie desolate, to save their lives, he by his eloquence and authority held them back so well, that he seemed to have enchained them. This scourge (saith he) proceed∣eth * 2.30 from our disorders: let us cease to sin, and God will give over to afflict us. It is a folly to flie from your coun∣trey. If you desire to be safe, flie from your sins. The arms of Maximus will have no power over bulwarks of sanctity. Besides, as it is said, he is bad, who is good for none but himself, the charitable Prelate, not con∣tent to consolate and confirm his own, but seeing that all Italie was filled with extream miseries, not onely spent all the means which he had to comfort them, but employed therein the very gold and silver vessels of the Church, for which cause the Arians sought occasion to calumniate him, disposing them∣selves to condemn virtues, since they could find no vice to lay hold on.

The holy man answered that which he afterward couched in his offices. It is the effect of a most ar∣dent * 2.31 charity to compassionate the miseries of our neigh∣bours, and to aid them according to our power, yea, above our power. I rather choose herein to be accused of prodi∣gality, than inhumanity: there is no fault more pardon∣able, than that of bounty. It is a strange thing to find men so cruel, as to be troubled, when they see a man redeemed from death, an honest woman delivered from the violence of Barbarians, which is worse than death, or poor forsaken infants, drawn from the contagion of Idols, which they are forced to adore with menaces of death. Let our enemies murmure as long as they please, but I more affect to keep souls for God, than to treasure up gold.

Whilest all this passed in Italie, Theodosius came to * 2.32 visit Justina and her children at Thessalonica, who failed not to present all their complaints, and solicite him to undertake the war against Maximus. But he therein at first shewed himself very cold; insomuch that (not to disguise the truth partly touched in Zosimus) although Theodosius was a very great Cap∣tain, as one who arrived to the Empire by his own merit, notwithstanding seeing his fortune now at the height, he was pleased to tast the repose and de∣lights of the Court, under the shadow of his own palms, and not contest again with any man, fearing the hazard of wars, and the slippery foot of felici∣tie. Moreover Maximus, who defied the force of all the world, played the fawning dog before him, and sent express Embassadours to draw him to some agreement. This so wrought, that when the offend∣ed Empress sounded an alarm, Theodosius endeavour∣ed to pacifie her with fair promises and good hopes, saying, Nothing must be precipitated; that Maximus would become dutifull; that it was better to give him some bone to gnaw on peaceably, than enkin∣dle a war which would never be extinguished, but with rivers of humane bloud. But the Ladie infi∣nitely vexed, pursued this affair with all extremity, and was much displeased to see, that he who held all his advancement from her husband, her self, and her children, shewed some remisness in so urgent a necessity. She bethought her self of an excel∣lent stratagem, which was, to enflame the war with the fire of love. The Emperour Theodosius had lost his wife Placilla, and was much enclined to a se∣cond marriage.

Justina, who heretofore had enjoyed the short ty∣ranny of beauty, making two Emperours Maxentius and Valentinian the Elder, tributary thereunto, was no longer in season to afford that which might very easily win Theodosius: but she had a daughter, na∣med Galla, then in the flower of her age, and a per∣fect image of the mother; she determined to pierce this man by the arrow of the eye of this Princess, which was most easily done, for she took her along with her to dissolve this heart of ice; and casting her self at his feet, humbly besought him by the ser∣vice he heretofore had vowed to the house of great Valentinian, by the ruin of her orphans, and by the bloud of poor deceased Gratian, whom he had associated in Empire, to take the matter in hand. In the same proportion as she uttered those words with great fervour, the daughter composed her self to weep with a good grace, and even as tears in such persons have a strong spur in them, Theodosius be∣holding her, felt the wound of Turnus, when he be∣held Lavinia in the like case. He quickly took the Empress and her daughter up, promising all assistance, and from that time plainly discovering that he was powerfully touched. He also failed not in few days to require Galla in marriage, which the mother pro∣mised him, as soon as she had irrevocably engaged him in the war she pretended. The marriage was hastily enough solemnized, and from the festival hall they passed into the field of Mars. Maximus, who saw Theodosius entertained his Embassadours with words, not giving them any absolute answer, much doubted the affair, and bent his whole force up∣on defence. He did all which humane prudence may, that hath not the eyes of God. He set his Goodman, the furtherer of all his treacheries, to sea, command∣ing him to guard the Archi-pelagus with a great fleet. On the other part, he gave commission to his brother Marcellinus to keep passage of the Alps with a strong Army. He himself with the most resolved troups descended into Sclavonia, to prevent his enemy.

Theodosius advertised of all this, after he had most particularly invoked the assistance of the God of hosts, he put himself on the way to cast the lot of the worlds Empire. Never was there a more prosperous war. It seemed the Angels of Heaven led the Empe∣rour by the hand; and that the bloud of Gratian so traiterously shed, raised Furies in the Camp of Maxi∣mus. The encounter of the two Armies was at Sissia, where those of the contrary party accounted them∣selves strong, having the river for bulwark, which se∣parated them from approches, terrible to their trea∣chery. But the brave souldiers of Theodosius, nothing amazed, although already much wearied, and all du∣sty with the long journey they had taken, laying hold of occasion by the forelock, speedily passed the river, and furiously charged the enemy.

These wicked men were so astonished to see them∣selves surprized by such an action of courage, that so soon as they had taken a view of them, they turned their backs. Maximus, hardy for a black * 2.33 mischief, and remiss in a field of battel, shamefully a∣bandoned his Army; instantly the earth was covered with bodies, the river filled with bloud, and good success reserved a part to the clemency of the victour. Theodosius pursued his fortune, and grapling with Marcellinus, who was no abler man than his brother, defeated him, returning now very fresh from the vi∣ctory he bare away in the first battel. And as at the same time he had notice that Maximus was retired into Aquileia, he, who desired to cut away the root of war, went thither with his army to besiege it. The justice of God fought powerfully against this Cain, and the time was come, in which with his bloud he must wash the spots of his crime. God, who in pu∣nishments holdeth some conformity with the sin, would that as this miserable creature had stirred the

military men against his Prince, he should be betrayed by the same souldiers, in whom he had all his hopes reposed. It is a strange thing, that these people ab∣horring the wickedness of this man, took, seized, and shamefully despoiled him of the very habiliments and marks of Emperour, which he had arrogated to him∣self; then tying and binding him like a Galley-slave, they presented him to Theodosius.

It was the greatest extremity of unhappiness, which might befal him, to say, that in stead of measuring with his dead body the place he should have defend∣ed, living with his sword in hand, he was used as a King disarrayed, to let him be seen by all the world as a spectacle of infamy.

Theodosius beholding him so humbled, had some pitie of him, and reproching him with his treachery, demanded who caused him to enterprize this trage∣dy? He being a coward and a flatterer, answered in so humble terms, that he discovered to have had this be∣lief, that his design no whit displeased his Majesty; in other things excusing himself with great submission, and making it appear, he was a true lover of life. He never had so good an opinion of his wickedness, as to hope for an ordinary death, yet seeing the Empe∣rour changed colour, and spake to him in a sweeter tone, he was in some hope to obtain life, when the enraged souldiers haled him, and tore him in pieces, * 2.34 or, as others have written, delivered him to the hang∣man, who cut off his head.

At the same time Theodosius dispatched Count Ar∣bogastus to seize on his son, who was a young child, as yet bred under the wing of his mother, whom Ma∣ximus caused to be called the Victorius, and had al∣ready declared him Caesar, when suddenly he was ta∣ken and massacred, to accompany his father.

The Good man, his Admiral, understanding the ge∣neral discomfiture of affairs, voluntarily drowned himself, preventing the hand of a hangman which would not have failed him, but all the water in the sea was not sufficient to wash away the stain of his Masters bloud from his soul, since the eternal flames never can free it.

Behold the issue of Maximus, after the rapine of four or five years. Behold to what the designs of the wicked tend, who under pretext of Religion, seek the advancement of their temporal affairs. Behold to what hypocrisies and goodly humane policies, which make use of God as a mask for their wicked∣ness, are finally reduced. Behold a stroke of thunder, which hath left nothing on earth behind it, but noise and stench. O bestial and bewitched men, who ha∣ving so good lessons of the justice of God, written with the bloud and sweat of so many miserable Sa∣crifices, pursue still the ranks, to be companions of the like misfortune.

S. Ambrose is much glorified for treating with this man, who deceived so many others, as with one ex∣communicate, unwilling to be so much as saluted by him, who vowed so many services at his feet; and freely fore-telling the misery should befall him, if he appeased not the celestial vengeance with a sin∣cere repentance.

The seventeenth SECTION. The affliction of S. Ambrose upon the death of Valentinian.

WHosoever hath said that Scepters are made of glass, Crowns of perfumed thorns, and the ways of great men are all of ice, bor∣dered with precipices, hath said no less than truth. It is verily a thing most strange that the golden seel∣ings of Palaces tremble over crowned heads, and that in the heat of feasts, the hand of Heaven visibly on the walls figureth the sentence of their death. In the mean time we desperately love the vanities of the world: nothing is thought on, but to set our foot on mens throats, that we may the more eminently be seen, to draw the bloud of this universe out of its veins, to cement up the ruins, and tie our selves to a miserable world, which daily falleth apieces even in our own hands. The poor Valentinian was re∣stored to the Throne by Theodosius, after the death of Maximus, and had onely past three or four years in peacefull tranquilitie, disposing himself to good according to the latitude of his own heart, and giving way to be wholly governed by the Coun∣sels of Saint Ambrose, whom he heretofore had per∣secuted. When behold him taken away at the age of one and twenty years, by a horrible treason, which did as it were mingle his bloud with that of his bro∣ther Gratian.

The good Prince passed into France, being then at Vienna near Lions, accompanied by the Count Ar∣bogastus, * 2.35 a French-man by Nation, who had lived till then in singular good reputation: for he was a man of worth, having a well-composed body, a quick spi∣rit, a generous behaviour, and much practice in the ex∣ercise of arms, which had so dignified him, that he held the prime place in the Empire, to the which he had rendered good services. He was very well belo∣ved by the souldiers; for besides his excellent parts, he bare an irreconciliable hatred to avarice, and appear∣ed so little curious to enrich himself, that being so great a Captain as he was, he would be Master of no more than an ordinary souldier. This seemed com∣mendable in him, but he was so desperately proud and cholerick, that he would have all things carried ac∣cording to his own counsels, much offended with the least contradiction, and accounting himself so neces∣sary, that nothing could be done without him.

On the other side the young Emperour, who was jealous of his authority, seeing that through his pre∣sumption he took too much upon him, he in all oc∣casion sought to depress him, which the other ill di∣gested: but he continuing in this arrogant and harsh disposition, Valentinian violently moved, did resolve to be rid of him. Behold why one day, as Arboga∣stus approched to his Throne to do him reverence, he looked awry on him, and gave him a ticket, by which he declared him a man disgraced and deprived of his charge. He furious, as a dog who byteth the stone thrown at him, after he had read the ticket, tore it in pieces in the presence of the Emperour, through extream impudency, and cried out aloud: You gave me not the charge which I hold, nor is it in your power to take it from me This he spake, presuming of support from the souldiers, whom he had ever esteemed. From this day forward he ceased not to make his di∣stasts appear, and to bend his spirit to a mischievous revenge.

There was by misfortune at that time in the Court one named Eugenius, who was accounted a wittie man, but cold and timorous, that heretofore had professed Rhetorick, and acquired a good talent in speaking. Arbogastus supposed his own boldness would make an excellent temper with the coldness of this man, and having along time much confided in him, he made him an overture to seize on the Empire, which he at first refused. But the other having promised him the death of Valentinian, and his sword for defence, gave consent to a most enor∣mous assassinate.

All men were amazed, that the poor Emperour in a fatal morning was found strangled by the conspi∣racy of Eugenius and Arbogastus, aided by the Gen∣tils▪ who desired nothing but the liberty of Paganism.

This news brought a most sensible affliction upon Saint Ambrose, for the Emperour was assured, that

the Bishop came to Vienna expresly to entreat his re∣turn into Italie, which having understood, he recko∣ned up the days, and expected his arrival with un∣speakable impatience. But S. Ambrose, who would not by importunity thrust himself into unnecessary affairs, as he through charity was unwilling to be wanting in necessary, having understood that the Emperour was daily upon his return, deferred this voyage, which had been most requisite to hinder Ar∣bogastus, over whom he had a great power. Va∣lentinian advertised of this delay, wrote to him, and earnestly pressed him to come, adding, he meant to receive Baptism at his hands, for he was as yet but a Catechumen. The good Prelate having received the Emperours letters, speedily undertook the jour∣ney, using all expedition, when at his coming to the Alps, he heard the deplorable death of the poor Prince, which made him return back again, and wash (as he saith) his own steps in his proper tears, most bitterly every moment bemoaning the death of his dearest pupil.

The Providence of God was very manifest in his * 2.36 death, for Valentinian was drawn from Empires of the world in a time, when he seemed now fully ripe for Heaven. It is an admirable thing how the dire∣ction of S. Ambrose, whom in his latter days he onely affected, had metamorphosed him into another man. In the beginning, he was thought to be over-much delighted in tourneys and horse-races: he so took away this opinion of him, that he would hardly per∣mit these sports in the great festival entertainments of the Empire. The Gentiles, who made observa∣tions on all his life, had nothing to reproach in him, but that he excessively delighted in the slaughter of savage beasts, whom he caused to be taken and fed for his pleasure, saying, it diverted him from cares of the Empire. He, to satisfie all the world, caused instantly all those creatures to be killed, and disposed himself to attend the affairs of his Councel, with so good judgement, and so great resolution, that he seemed a Daniel in the midst of the Assembly of El∣ders. These envious people having watched him so far, as to observe him at the table, objected, he an∣ticipated the hour of his repast; yet he so addicted himself to abstinence, that he was seen in feasts ra∣ther seemingly than effectually to eat: for sometimes in entertaining others he fasted, tempering devo∣tion and charity with a singular discretion. Finally, to give testimony of his infinite chastity, it was told him there was in Rome a female Comedian, endow∣ed with a singular beauty, having attractives which ravished all the Nobilitie. This understood, he de∣puteth one expresly to bring her to the Court: but they being passionately in love with her, corrupted the messenger, so that he returned without doing any thing. The Emperour rechargeth, and commandeth that she with all expedition should be brought. It was so done, but she coming to the Court, the most chaste Emperour would not so much as onely see her, but instantly sent her back again, saying, That if he being in a condition which gave him the means to satisfie all his pleasures, and in an Age which or∣dinarily useth to be very slippery in matter of vice, and which is more, not married, abstained from unlaw∣full loves; his subjects might well do somewhat by his example. Never servant (saith S. Ambrose) was more in the power of his Master, than the body of this Prince was under command of the soul; nor ever Censor more diligently examined the actions of others, than he his own.

Though all these dispositions infinitely much com∣forted the holy Prelate, and namely, the desire he ex∣pressed to receive Baptism two days before his death, asking every instant if Bishop Ambrose were come, notwithstanding his heart was transfixed to see him taken away in a time, when he went about to make himself most necessary for all the world. His death was generally bemoaned by all men, and there was not any, nay, not his enemies, which for him poured not out their tears.

It is said that Galla his sister, wife of the Emperour Theodosius, at the news of his death, filled the Court with inconsolable lamentations, and died in child∣bed, which came by excess of grief; for which Theo∣dosius was pitifully afflicted.

The other sisters of the Prince, who were at Milan, ceased not to dissolve into tears, before the eyes of S. Ambrose, who had no word more effectual to com∣fort them, than the assurance that his faith and zeal had purified him, and the demand he made of Bap∣tism had consecrated him, to the end they should no longer be in pain with the ease of his soul.

The good Bishop took a most particular care of his obsequies and burial, where he made a Funeral Oration, found yet among his Works. In the end re∣membering his two pupils: Go (saith he) O you most * 2.37 happy, gone as you are out of the desert of this world, dwell now in the everlasting delights of God, united in Heaven, as you have been on earth. If my prayers have any force before God, I will not let a day pass of my life, that I remember you not: I will not make a praier, where∣in I insert not the names of my dearest Pupils Gratian and Valentinian. In the silence of the night the apple of mine eyes shall be waking and full of tears for you, and as often as I approach to Altars, my sacrifices shall mount to Heaven in the odour of sweetness. By my will (dearest children) if I could have given my life for yours, I should have found consolation for all my sorrows. Then turning himself to his sisters, those mournfull turtles, whom this good Prince had so passionately loved, that in consideration of them, he deferred his own marriage, fearing lest the love of a wife might di∣minish his charity towards them, the good Bishop thus spake unto them: My holy daughters, I will not bereave you of tears; this were to be over ignorant in the resentments of your hearts. I wish that you bewail your brother, but bemoan him not as lost, he shall live more than ever in your eyes, in your breasts, in your hearts, in your embracements, in your kisses, in your me∣morie, in your praiers; nor shall any thing draw him from your thoughts: but you ought now to consider him with a quite other visage, not as a man mortal, for whom you were ever in fear, but as an Angel in whom you dread nothing: An Angel, who will assist, comfort, and hold you day and night in his protection.

The seventeenth SECTION. The tyranny of Eugenius, and notable li∣bertie of S. Ambrose.

IN the mean while Eugenius, drawn from the school to the Throne of Monarchs, to serve as a specious game for the fortune of the times, chan∣geth his ferula into a scepter, and makes himself an Emperour, like the ice of one night. The faithless man, who had been a Christian, shutting up his eyes then from all consideration of piety, and onely opening them to the lustre of this unexpected greatness, made himself an arm of towe, forsaking the direction of God, to support in humane policie. He put all his hope in the sword of Arbogastus, and counsel of Fla∣vianus, a Gentleman of prime quality, and much ver∣sed in judicial Astrologie, who promised him a gol∣den fortune, if he would leave Christian Religion, to re-advance the worship of false gods, towards which Eugenius, blinded with his presumption, disco∣vered great inclinations.

He chose the Citie of Milan, to begin the web of his wicked purposes, where S. Ambrose did not desire

him, not through fear of his arms, but for the hor∣rour he had conceived of his sacriledges. The false Emperour failed not to write to the holy Bishop to require his friendship, which he would make use of to support his authoritie: but holy Ambrose shewed so generous a contempt of his letters, that he deign∣ed not so much as to make answer, untill such time that being informed how Eugenius under-hand fa∣voured the Sect of Pagans, having already allowed them this Altar of Victorie, for which so many bat∣tels had been fought, he wrote to him a most coura∣gious letter; where, not touching his election nor affairs of State, as then not well known, he repre∣hendeth him for his impietie, and said among other things:

I ow the retreat, which I made from Milan, not at∣tending * 2.38 you, to the fear of God, which shall perpetually be the rule of my actions. The grace of our Saviour shall ever be more precious with me, than that of Caesars, nor will I at any time flatter a man to betray my conscience. I wrong no person, if I render to God that which is due to him; and I profit all men, when I conceal not a truth from great-ones. I understand you have granted to Pagans that which constantly hath been denied by Catholick Em∣perours. God knoweth all the secrets of your heart. It is a very ill business if you unwilling to be beguiled by men, think to deceive God, who seeth all that is to be done, even to nothing. The Gentiles, who so much have impor∣tuned you to satisfie their passion, taught you to be urgent to make a good refusal of that which you cannot give, but with committing sacriledge. I am no Controller of your liberalities, but an interpreter of your faith. Give of your treasures what ever you think good; I envie no man: but you shall not give any thing of the rights of God which I will not resist with the utmost extent of my power. You make a goodly matter to present offerings to Jesus Christ; you will find few▪ that make account of these dis∣simulations; every man hereafter will regard, not what you do, but what you have a will to do. As for my part, I enter not now into consideration of your estate, but if you be true Emperour, you will begin with the service of the divine Majestie: This is it which I cannot hide from you, because my life and flatterie are two things incompatible.

As for the rest, the Emperour Theodosius seeing the tyrannie of Eugenius in a readiness, well foresaw necessitie must needs put arms into his hands to be mannaged with pietie. Whilest the infamous Eugeni∣us made slaughter of beasts, amusing himself on the consideration of their entrails, from thence to judge the events of war, the brave Theodosius prostrated himself before the Altars of the living God, covered * 2.39 with hair-cloth, imploring the assistance of Saints for his succour, and all the prayers of souls the most purified, which at that time lived within Monaste∣ries. He departed from Constantinople with these aids, causing the Standard of the Cross to march before him. Eugenius was alreadie encamped on the Alps to hinder the passage of his adversarie, and had in a manner covered them with Statues of false Gods, as of Jupiter and Hercules, so bestial was this man.

The Emperour seeing he needs must fight, com∣manded Gaynes, Colonel of the Goths, who led the vanguard, to break the trenches of his enemies, which he quickly did: but they being yet very fresh, and having a notable advantage of place taken by them, sustained the first assault with much resolution, and infinite loss on the Emperours part; for it is thought that Gaynes, who was a valiant Captain in his own person, yet too wilfully opinionative to force this passage of the Alps, lost there about ten thousand men, which were killed like flies: so that needs a re∣treat must be made, very shamefull for Theodosius his army.

Eugenius, whose head was not made for a diadem, thinking the whole business ended, after so great a slaughter of his enemies, was so puffed up with this success, that he rather thought how to glorifie his victorie, than foresee his defence. The sage Emperour on the other side, seeing his Army grown very thin, and the courage of his souldiers wavering, more stedfastly made his address to God. He was seen up∣on the top of a rock prostrate on the earth, and cry∣ing aloud, My God, you know that I in the name of your * 2.40 Son enterprized this war, and have opposed the arms of the Cross against Infidelitie. If in me their rest any blame, I beseech you to revenge my sins on my culpable head, and not abandon the cause of Religion, lest we become a reproch to Infidels.

The same night God for his assurance shewed him a vision of two Apostles, S. John and S. Philip, who should be, as indeed they were, the Conductours of his Legions. The next morning about break of day, he ranged his forces in battel array, and charged Eu∣genius, not as yet througly freed from his drunken prosperitie: And when he saw that those who had the vanguard proceeded therein somewhat fearful∣ly, remembering themselves of the usage of their companions, he did an act of admirable confidence, for he alighted from his horse, and marching on foot in the head of his Army cried out: Where is the God of Theodosius? At this word the ayd of Hea∣ven * 2.41 was so propitious, that a furious whirl-wind was raised, which persecuted the enemies of Theodosius, casting a huge cloud of dust into their eyes, and re∣turning all their own darts back to their proper fa∣ces, in such sort, that as it is confessed by Claudian, a very obstinate Pagan, it seemed the good Emperour that day had the winds and tempests at command, and that he had nothing to do but to give the word, to make them obedient to his Standards. Heaven fought for its beloved Theodosius, and all the powers of the ayr were in arms to favour his victories. The souldiers at this instant were all changed, so much hope had they in their hearts, & fire in their courages.

Bacurius, one of the Emperours greatest Captains, with his enflamed Legions, brake through the ranks, penetrated the strongest resistances, and gained the Alps. Eugenius, his people dejected as men fallen from the clouds, could not sufficiently admire this alteration. The discreetest among them disposed themselves to treat of peace, crying aloud, that never would they bear arms against a man, who had the ayr and winds in his pay.

Theodosius sortified them with his clemencie; all dispositions by a most remarkable miracle of God, who exerciseth his power as well over hearts as winds, were changed in an instant, and that which is admirable, the most faithfull to Eugenius promised the Emperour to put him into his hands, which they performed: for they went to take this miserable man, who sat on his Throne entertaining his goodly imaginations, and crying, Bring him alive, (speaking of Theodosius) when they laying hold of his collar, and most shamefully binding his hands: It is you (said they) we must bring alive to Theodosius, and that in∣stantly. They trussed him up like a beast astonished, and presented him to the Emperour, who having re∣proched him in presence of all the world for his im∣pietie and treacherie, caused him presently to be put to death, to make an end of his imaginarie Empire.

The wicked Arbogastus who had at other times been so happy, when he followed the counsels of S. Ambrose, seeing the ill success of his designs, became so enraged, that himself thrust two swords through his own bodie, being not able to endure life nor light, which seemed to upbraid him with his crimes.

Some hold that Flavianus died in the throng, that he might not survive his own shame: others think he escaped, and that Theodosius extended his ordinarie clemencie to him.

Briefly behold the course of the tyrannie of Euge∣nius, still more and more to verifie the Oracles of

S. Ambrose. The Emperour came to Milan, where he cast himself at the feet of the holy Bishop, attributing these victories to his wisdom, counsels, and virtue of his prayers.

The eighteenth SECTION. The differences of S. Ambrose with the Em∣perour Theodosius, and his death.

PHilosophers say, there are four things which divert thunder, to wit, wind, rain, noise, and the light of the Sun. And behold a thunder∣clap arrested by Saint Ambrose, with the wind of his mouth, the holy rain of his eloquence, the noise of his voice, and resplendent light of his most unsported life.

Theodosius verily was a great Prince, but as it is so difficult to be on earth, and not participate of earth, as that the Moon being distant by so many thousand leagues, yet seemeth to bear the marks thereof on the forehead; so is it very hard to be in Court, and not resent the manners of the Court, and souls esteemed the most temperate, not to have some blemishes ap∣pear on the face. This brave Emperour was natu∣rally enclined to choller, which was enkindled by the breath of those who conversed with him, nou∣rishing himself with the food of over-much credu∣lity. For this cause he had two great contestations with S. Ambrose, which eminently manifested the au∣thority of the holy Bishop.

The one was for a Synagogue of Jews; the other * 2.42 for the murder committed at Thessalonica. The mat∣ter for the Jews was, for that one of their Synagogues was burnt in the East, at the solicitation of a Bishop, with which Theodosius offended, as if it had import∣ed much prejudice to his Edicts, caused a carefull Inquisition to be made, and adjudged the good Bi∣shop, who was said to be the Authour of this fire, to re-build the Synagogue, now turned to cinders. Saint Ambrose, although he had a peaceable spirit, and that he in his Diocess had never undertaken the like, avoiding popular commotions as much as he might, which ever transport affairs into some excess, yet could he not tolerate the rigours used against Christians, on this pretended injury, but he very sharply wrote thereof to Theodosius, as it appeareth by the letter which is yet found among his Works; some words whereof behold:

My life passeth away in many cares, wherein I am * 2.43 engaged by obligation of my charge: but I must avow that I never resented any thing more lively, than to see my self as it were accused of sacriledge before your Ma∣jestie. I beseech you patiently to hearken to me; for if I * 2.44 be unworthie to be heard by you, I cannot be heard of God for you. You do wrong to commit your praiers and vows to me, to be carried to Altars: if you denie me the audi∣ence of your ears, you declare me by the same sentence un∣worthie to bear your complaints to the ears of the living God. It is not a thing to be done by a good Emperour to take away the libertie of speech, nor for a good Bishop to conceal a veritie contrarie to his conscience. All that which Monarchs have in them most amiable, is, to love li∣bertie, even in the tongues of the souldiers; but by a much stronger reason, ought they to cherish it in the mouthes of Bishops. There hath ever been a notable difference be∣tween good and evil Princes, which causeth that the one desires the libertie of their subjects, and the other love nothing so much in them as slaverie. God commandeth us to bear his word to the face of Kings, and not be asha∣med of justice. I do not intrude through importunitie, but present my self of dutie. That which I do, I do for your good, and in consideration of your safetie. If I derive not the effect which I pretend, yet ever will I better love to be by your Majestie esteemed troublesom, than unprofitable or infamous. You have commanded enquiries should be made of those who have burnt the Synagogue of the Jews, to inflict punishment, and that the Bishop by whose solici∣tation this fire hath been kindled, should be condemned to re-edifie the wasted buildings. What have you done (O Emperour) in imposing such a command, which by neces∣sitie will make of a Bishop, either a Prevaricatour or a Martyr; although neither the one, nor other be proper for your time? I desire a Bishop may be found so fervent as to burn a Synagogue of the Jews; and for that cause you have deputed for him a Commissarie, to the end, that if he obey your commands, he should betray his own law; and if he resist, make you to do that which the Neroes and Domitians have acted. Behold to what this affair will come, if you take not heed. For my part, I propose to my self, that the Bishop will rather encline to matter of Martyrdom, than of treason: he will say that he hath stirred up the people, sounded the alarm, taken the fla∣ming fire-brands in hand, and that he will expose him∣self for his whole flock. O happie lie, which shall serve others for absolution, and him for a Crown! But what need is there to enquire into the absent? Behold me pre∣sent, behold me avowing the act. I publish, and protest, if needs you will have it so, I my self burned this Syna∣gogue now in question, that there might no longer be a place where Jesus Christ should be denied. And do not tell me, that I have not burned any in mine own Diocess; Heaven hath done it for me, Heaven hath prevented the negligence, which I then thought to be reasonable. And if men have in it seconded the will of Heaven, would you send one of your Counts to punish them, and re-build the Synagogue of the Jews at our charge, that so the hand of a Captain, which carrieth the Standards of the Cross, may not henceforth bear them, until be hath been defiled with a sacriledge intended against the Cross of Christ.

We have heretofore seen on the front of the Temple of Idols, how they have been built of the spoils of Cimbri∣ans, but we shall hereafter read over the portal of Syna∣gogues, that they were made with the bloud of Christians, by the commandment of a Christian Emperour. The Jews passionately desire to see Christians at the chain, and they shall find a Christian Emperour minister of their fu∣ries. You will make them triumph over the Church of God, you will cause them to put our tears and afflictions among their days of Festivals, and the victories they will gain upon us; with those they have had from the Amor∣rheans and Cananeans.

He pursued this subject with great vigour of strong reasons, and good words, and seeing the Emperour made no reckoning of this advise given him in parti∣cular, he failed not, according to promise, to speak of it in publick, in a Sermon he made of the waking-rod of Jeremie; where descending upon the history of Na∣than, who reproched David for his sin, by considera∣tion of the benefits he had received from God, he made a long apostrophe to the Emperour Theodosius, to him applying the word of God: I have then made thee Emperour of a private man, I have subjected barba∣rous Nations to thee, I have afforded thee issue to succeed in thy Empires, I have given thee peace, I have put thine enemies fettered into thy hands, I have opened land and seas to thy Legions, I have sheltered thee under the buck∣ler of my protection, I have confounded the counsels of thy adversaries, to make thy enterprizes prosperous, I have rendered thee dreadfull to people, marking thee on the forehead with the rays of my Majestie, that thou mayest re-edifie the Synagogue of the Jews.

He spake many things in the like terms, with so much lightening, thunder, and tempest, that Theodo∣sius was wholly amazed, nor could say any thing else to him coming from the pulpit, but: Bishop you have preached to me to day. Sacred Majestie (answereth S. Ambrose) it is for your good. It is true (replieth the Em∣perour) I did ill to give this command. And for that (saith

Saint Ambrose) I will not go to the Altar to offer the pledge of our salvation for you, till you have revoked this Edict. I from this present revoke it, saith Theo∣dosius. On this assurance which you give (answereth the Bishop) I will offer sacrifice.

As for the other contestation of Saint Ambrose with Theodosius, which was concerning the murder of the Thessalonians, of one part the matter is so no∣torious, that it needeth no declaration, but on the other it is so important, that it were a crime to let it pass under silence.

The Thessalonians in a popular commotion, slew one of the Emperour's Captains, who had caused a Coach-man to be imprisoned. The news reported at Court, incensed all men of arms, who think, wear∣ing swords, they have right over the bloud of peo∣ple. Theodosius could do no otherwise but shew him∣self offended with this death: For the Emperours then thought the souldiers were as necessary for their fortunes, as feathers for birds. As the thunder al∣ready roared in the cloud, and the thunder-stroke of the Imperial Eagle menaced the miserable Citie, tain∣ted with this murder, S. Ambrose came thither very fitly, who much sweetened the affairs, and wholly disposed the Emperour to clemency. But as it is the wind which worketh all the mischief on the Sea, this element being of its own nature very peacefull, so they are ill officers, who often cause those disturbances which happen in the lives of Great men, their good natures very frequently affording them inclinations to sweetness. These Captains which possessed the ears of the Emperour, ceased not to breath and mur∣mur so strongly, that after the departure of S. Ambrose, they raised fire and tempest. Theodosius giveth free∣dom to the souldiers, for the revenge they were to exercise upon the Citie of Thessalonica: They who were willing to drown all their passion in bloud, be∣thought themselves of a wicked and barbarous inven∣tion, putting the poor people into a large publick place enclosed with rails, comonly called the Circus, where ordinarily games were presented, divulging they had an admirable spectacle to shew, for entertainment of the Burgesses of the Citie. Curiositie of its nature is ever credulous, and he that hath the image of pleasure in his head; regardeth the bayt, not considering the hook. These unfortunate men ran by heaps to take place in the morning very early; they were entertain∣ed in the beginning with certain fopperies, which they beheld with much satisfaction, clapping their hands at every word, and crying, Vivat Rex, When behold * 2.45 from the rayls, where tourneaments were expected, hors-men covered with steel were seen to issue out, with sword in hand, who set upon this multitude en∣closed as in a pit-fall, and made a lamentable slaught∣er of these silly sheep. The bloud streaming among so many out-cries and horrible images of death, was a hydeous spectacle, even to those who were out of danger. As a coal enkindled, ever gaineth more and more, eating out his way, it was not known whether any resistance redoubled this fury, but going out of the compass of the Circus, they ran all the Citie over, in such sort, that in the space of three hours there were numbred about seven thousand bodies slain in the market-place.

O you Great-ones, whom God hath set over the heads of men the higher, to behold the images of your own misery, and not to crush and rent them in pieces; what Ocean will suffice to wash your mouths when to content a vanitie of spirit, you let words fall, which carry along with them the massacre of mortals? The sea is less furious, a thunder-clap less dreadfull, the gall of Dragons and poison which swelleth up the neck of Aspicks, is much more tollerable, than an inconsiderate word proceeding from the mouth of a Greatman, which unlooseth the hands to violence, and shuts them up to ju∣stice. In three hours, behold a poor Citie divested of Citizens, and peopled with dead bodies, be∣come a desert Island encompassed with a river of bloud: so many women calling upon their hus∣bands, and so many little children crying for their fathers among the dead, who had voice no longer to answer.

Theodosius never to himself proposed this mischief, but his word falling into the hands of men of war, fleshed in revenge, could by no means be re∣called.

When S. Ambrose, being in the company of other Bishops, heard the news of this pitifull tragedy, it drew sobs from his heart, and tears from his eyes. The Emperour tormented in his conscience, caused secret∣ly the opinion of the good Bishop to be sounded, and instantly knew that he, who in matters of much light∣er importance had not spared him, would handle him in this action according to his demerit. Whereupon he immediately by letter denounced him excommu∣nicate, and that if he came to Milan, he could not otherwise entertain him, but as one excommunicate: His sin having reduced him to that state, that the very sight of Altars would be a crime, unless he resolved upon a perfect penance.

Theodosius in this matter well discovered his mind was good. Some other, beholding himself in con∣dition of a power to disturb the Church, would have resisted the rod with moody extravagancies, and imperious menaces, or admit he would have taken more temperate ways, had sought the means of dispensation from the ordinary rigours of a pub∣lick penance, for reverence due to his person: but this good Emperour, knowing his maladie stood in need of a good Physitian, made choice of the most severe, and never had any rest in his soul till he saw Saint Ambrose; much better loving to be repre∣hended by him, than flattered by another. He came to Milan, and taking the ready way to the Church, the holy Bishop caused speedily all the gates to be shut, and went out of the circuit of the sacred place to encounter him, and at the first meeting, spake to him in this manner:

It is not credible, Ob Emperour, that you as yet know * 2.46 the enormitie of the murder you have committed. As choller at that time blinded you, so now the opinion of your greatness, and rays of your Diadem dazle your eyes; yet ought you not to reflect on the earth from whence you were extracted, and to which you must return. It is fit you think the purple which covers your bodie, can∣not defend you from putrifaction and worms. The state wherein you then shall be, ought to serve for a counterpoize to the elevation of that, which at this time transporteth you out of your self. You command over men, who are of the like nature with your self, who are derived from the same elements, who have equalled you in birth, and shall also parallel you in a tomb. God hath made you man, and Emperour, to use them as men and subjects; and they by your commandment are worse trea∣ted than the most savage beasts.

With what eyes pretend you to behold the Church of the living God, who is your Sovereign Master? Have you any other than those, which are poisoned with the gall of your anger? With what feet will you touch these marbles, which are not made but for the feet of the faith∣ful? Shall it be with them, which go upon slaughters? What bands will you extend to Altars? Have you any other than those, which yet distil the bloud of those unfortunate vi∣ctims? Dare you with those hands to take the bodie of the Son of God? Dare you to lift his bloud to that mouth, which hath denounced the sentence of this massacre? Retire, re∣tire, adde not crime to crime. Take about your neck the yoke of penance, which is the onely remedie of your evils.

Theodosius amazed at this liberty, made no other answer, but that David had been a great sinner as well as he; but so soon as he opened his mouth, the

Bishop replieth: Well then, since you speak of David, imitate him in his penance, as you have in his sin.

Thereupon the Emperour departed, and went to his Palace, touched with an amazed grief, where he endeavoured punctually to perform the works of pe∣nance imposed upon him by the holy Prelate. He al∣ready had passed about eight moneths in this estate, when the feast of Christmass being come, he fetched many deep sighs, and shed abundance of tears, bitterly deploring his condition, for which cause Ruffinus, who was at that time the chief favourite of Theodosius, and after that cut in pieces under the reign of his chil∣dren, perceiving it, asked him the cause of this unmea∣surable sorrow. Then Theodosius redoubling his sobs: Ab Ruffinus, you are merry (saith he) and see not where the evil woundeth me. Have not I cause to bemoan my mishap with bitter tears, seeing the Altars, made even for slaves and beggers, cannot endure me, and needs must I be cut off, as a rotten member, from the society of men and Angels? For I am not ignorant, that what is bound on earth by the mouth of Priests, shall be bound in Heaven.

Ruffinus, who then thought himself as strong as Heaven, said, If there were nothing else but that which afflicted the Emperours mind, he would quickly afford a remedie. Theodosius replieth: You know not Bi∣shop Ambrose; but I know, neither thy credit nor in∣dustry can ought avail me. Ruffinus notwithstand∣ing insisted, protesting he would instantly perswade the Bishop what ever he pleased. He failed not to find out the Bishop, but the Saint gave him a very sharp reprehension, advising him rather to dress his own wounds, than intercede for others; for he partly understood, that he had a hand in this fatal counsel. Ruffinus notwithstanding, plyed it all he could, and endeavoured to charm this man with fair words, say∣ing finally for conclusion, he would immediately ac∣company the Emperour to the Church. S Ambrose, who was ever very serious, answered: If he come thi∣ther as a Tyrant, I will stretch out my neek: but if in quality of a Christian Emperour, I am resolved to forbid him entrance. Ruffinus well saw the Bishop was in∣flexible, and went in haste to advise the Emperour, not yet on this day to hazard his approach to the Church. He found him on his way, as a man distract∣ed, that had the arrow in his heart, and hastened for remedy: and he saying he had dealt with the Bishop, It is no matter (saith Theodosius) let him do with me what he please, but I am resolved to reconcile my self to the Church.

S. Ambrose advertised that Theodosius came, went * 2.47 out, and expected him at the door of a little Cell, se∣perated from the body of the Church, where ordina∣rily salutations were made Then perceiving him en∣vironed with his Captains, Come you, oh Emperour, (saith he) to force us? No (saith Theodosius) I come in the quality of a most humble servant, and beseech you, that imitating the mercy of the Master whom you serve, you would unloose my fetters; otherwise my life will fail. What penance (replieth the holy man) have you done for the expiation of so great a sin? It is (answereth The∣odosius) for you to appoint it, and me to perform it.

Then was the time, when to correct the precipita∣tion of the Edict made against the Thessalonians, he commanded him to suspend the execution of the sen∣tence of death for the space of thirty days; after which, having brought him into the Church, the faithfull Emperour prayed, not standing on his feet, nor kneeling, but prostrated all along on the pave∣ment, which he watered with his tears, tearing his * 2.48 hair, and pitifully pronouncing this versicle of Da∣vid: My soul is fastened to the pavement, quicken me according to thy word.

When the time of Oblation was come, he modest∣ly lifted up himself, having his eyes still bathed with tears, and so went to present his offering, then stayed within those rayls, which seperated the Priests from the Laity, attending in the same place to hear the rest of Mass. Saint Ambrose asked him, who set him there, and whether he wanted any thing? The Emperour answered, He attended the holy Com∣munion: of which the sage Prelate being advertised, he sent one of his chief Deacons which served at the Altar, to let him understand that the Quire was the place of Priests, and not of the Laicks, that he instantly should go out, to rank himself in his order, adding, the Purple might well make Emperours, not Priests. Theodosius obeyed, and answered, that what he had done was not on purpose, but that such was the custom of the Church of Constantinople. Yea, it is also remarkable, that returning afterward into the East, and hearing Mass at Constantinople, on a ve∣ry solemn festival day, after he had presented his of∣fering, he went out of the Quire, whereat the Pa∣triarch Nectarius amazed asked him, why his Majesty retired in that manner? He sighing, answered: I in the end have learned to my cost, the difference between an Emperour and a Bishop? To conclude, I have found a Master of truth, and to tell you mine opinion, I do acknowledge amongst Bishops, but one Ambrose worthy of that title.

Behold an incomparable authority, which was as the rays of his great virtue and sanctity, from whence distilled all that force and vigour, which he had in treating with all men.

I imagine I hitherto have exposed the principal actions of S. Ambrose to the bright splendour of the day, and so to have ordered them, that all sorts of conditions may therein find matter of instruction. It hath not been my intention to distend them by way of Annals, but historical discourses, proper to per∣swade virtue: So likewise have I not been willing to charge this paper with other particular narrations, which may be read in Paulinus, Sozomen, Ruffinus, and which have exactly been sought out by Cardinal Baronius, suitable to his purpose. I conclude, after I have told you that Paulinus his Secretary witnesseth, he writing by him a little before his death, saw a globe of fire, which encompassed his head and in the end entered into his mouth, making an admirable brightness reflect on his face, which held him so rapt, that whilest this vision continued, it was impossible for him to write one word of those which Saint Am∣brose dictated.

As for the rest, having attained the threescore and * 2.49 fourth year of his age, he was accounted as the O∣racle of the world; for they came from the utmost bounds of the earth to hear his wisdom, as unto So∣lomon, and after the death of Theodosius Stilicon, who governed all, held the presence of Saint Ambrose so necessary that he esteemed all the glory of the Ro∣man Empire was tied to the life of this holy Prelate. In effect, when on the day of holy Saturday after his receiving the Communion he had sweetly rendered up his soul, as Moses by the mouth of God; a huge deluge of evils overflowed Italie, which seemed not to be stayed but by the prayers of this Saint. Let us (I beseech you) pass over his death in the manner of the Scripture, which speaketh but one word of the end of so many great personages; and let us never talk of death in a subject, wholly reple∣nished with immortality.

Oh what a life, what a death, to have born bees in his first birth on his lips, and at his death globes of light in his mouth! What a life, to be framed from his tender age as a Samuel for the Tabernacle, not knowing he was designed for the Tabernacle! What a life, to preserve himself in the corrup∣tion of the world, in a most undefiled chastity, as a fountain of fresh water in midst of the sea! What a life, to arrive to honour and dignities in flying them, and to have enobled all his charges by the inte∣frity

of his manners! What a life, not to have taught any virtue before he practised it, and to become first learned in examples, before he shewed himself elo∣quent in words! What a life, so to have governed a Church, that it seemed a copy of Heaven, and an eternal pattern of virtues! What a life, to have born on his shoulders the glory of Christendom, and all the moveables of the house of God! What a life, to have so many times trampled the head of Dragons under-foot, and rendered himself the Oracle of the world, and the Doctour of Monarchs! And what a death, to die as in a field with palms planted by his hand, manured by his industrie, and watched with sweats!

What a death, to have built himself before his death a tomb stuffed with precious stones of so many good∣ly virtues! What a death, which hath made it known that S. Ambrose was born for all the world, and could not die without the tears of all the world; since as every one had his interests in the life of this Prelate, so he found in his death the subject of his sorrow! What a death, to die with these words in his mouth: I am neither ashamed to have lived, nor fear to die, be∣cause we have a good Master! What a death, to return to Heaven as the dove of the deluge to his Ark, bear∣ing words of peace, as an olive-branch in his mouth! What a death, to see vice trodden under his feet, Heaven all in crowns over his head, men in admira∣tion, the Angels in joy, the Arms of God laden with recompences for his merits!

Prelates, who please your selves with Myters and Croziers, would to God this incomparable man, as he is the ornament of your Order, might be ever the model of your actions. And if your dignities make you be as Mountains of Sinai, wholly in lights, flames, and thunder-strokes, let the innocency of your life, render you (by his imitation) Mount∣ains of Libanus, to bear the whiteness of snow in the puritie of your conversation, the odour of in∣cense in your sacrifices and devotions, and fountains in the doctrines and charities you shall distribute to the whole world.

THE SOVLDIER.

TO SOULDIERS.

O Brave and couragious Nobility, whose Ancestours have fixed the Standards of the Cross upon the land of Infidels, and cemented Monarchies with their bloud; to you it is I ad∣dress these lines, for you it is my pen laboureth, excited with a generous design in hath to honour your profession. Here it is, where I present the true figures of valour: Here I display the palms and crowns, which environed the head of your Fathers: Here I do restore the value of fair and glorious actions, reser∣ved for your imitation. Enter with a firm footing and a confi∣dent courage into this Temple of glory, perswading your selves that there is nothing so great in the world, as to tread false great∣ness under foot, and deifie virtues. Worldly honour is the feast of Gods, said an Ancient, where the ambitious are not invited, but in quality of IXIONS and TANTALUSSES, to serve there as buffons: but that which consisteth in valour, joyned to integri∣ty of manners, ought to be the object of your affections, the re∣compence of your labours, and trophey of your memorie. Re∣flect onely with a favourable eye on this poor endeavour which I consecrate to your benefit, and afford by your virtues effect to my prayers, and accomplishment to my writings.

THE SOULDIER.

The first SECTION. The excellency of Warlick Virtue.

IF the profession of arms were as well managed, as it is excellent and necessa∣ry in civil life, we could not have eyes enough to behold it, nor tongues suf∣ficient to praise it: and although our spirit should arrive to the highest top of admiration, it would ever find wonders in this subject, not to be attained.

We seem to hear the Scripture speak, that God * 2.50 himself affecteth the glory of arms, when he causeth himself to be surnamed the God of hosts, and when the Prophets represent him unto us in a fiery Cha∣riot, all environed with burning Legions, at which time the pillars of Heaven tremble under his feet, the rocks are rent, abysses frown, and all the creatures of the universe shake under the insupportable splen∣dour of his Majesty. In effect, this great Monarch of * 2.51 Heaven and earth ceaseth not to make war; and if we will consider his proceedings, we shall find it is more than fifty Ages, since he hath laid siege to a re∣bellious Citie, which hath for ditches, abysses of ini∣quity; for walls and rampires, obstinacy; for towers and bulwarks, mountains of pride; for arms, resistance against divine inspirations; for artillery, tumult and insolency; for houses dens of hypocrisie; for Palaces, labyrinths of dissimulation; for tribunal and bar, im∣piety; for Temple, proper-will; for Idol, self-love; for Captain, blindness; for souldiers, exorbitant passions; for counsel, folly; and for constancy perverse opinion.

This Citie in a word, is the heart of man, against * 2.52 which God daily wageth war, to give us libertie by our captivitie, advancement by our fall, greatness by our abasing, and life by death, which maketh us die to all dead things, to live for immortality. God would that we fight by his example, not onely with spiritual arms, but sometimes with material: and it is a thing very considerable, that Abraham, the first Father of all the faithfull, was a warriour; since S. Am∣brose * 2.53 reckoning up all his titles, according to the Scripture, sheweth he was a good Religious man, a good Justice, a good Captain, a good hoast, and a good husband. Yea, also it is a passage much more admirable to say, what Clemens Alexandrinus hath ob∣served, that the first Army of the faithfull which ever was, marched, not thinking thereon, under the figure of the Cross, and the name of Saviour, although it were about two thousand years before the birth of the Messias.

The fourteenth Chapter of Genesis teacheth us, that nine Kings came into the field with their troups, to fight, four against five. Those of Sodom and Gomorrha were there in person, who like effeminate Princes turned their back at the first encounter, and in flying, fell into pits of sulphure. Their defeat gave leisure to the enemy to pillage all the Countrey: where poor Lot, the nephew of Abraham, was taken, having by mishap, chosen his habitation in a Territory, fertile in wealth and iniquities.

The news coming to the ears of Abraham, he spee∣dily armed his houshold-servants, who were to the number of three hundred and eighten, and with shepheards assaulted Kings, whom he valorously van∣quished, bringing back his kinsman, and all the boo∣ty which his enemies had taken. Behold the first battel renowned in Scripture, where this brave Do∣ctour of Alexandria, before alledged, very well subti∣lizeth and saith, that the number of Abraham••s soul∣diers is represented by three Greek letters T. J. H, whereof the first signifieth the Cross, and the other two the name of Saviour, God being desirous so to consecrate the first arms of believers, by the Mysteries of his Greatness, to declare, that the warfare which is well managed, is his work and glory. Likewise we do not find that the name of Sun hath been given * 2.54 in holy Writ to a living man with so much lustre and applause, as to a souldier, and the best of souldiers: I speak of Sampson, which is so much as to say, Sun in our language; where it seemeth the Scripture leadeth us by the hand, to make us acknowledge that milita∣ry profession, which is under good direction, so much excelleth the ordinary vocations of men, as doth the Sun the stars. For letters, yea, eloquence and arts, which are set out with so much lustre in the estima∣tion of men, are covered under the wings of military virtue, as very well the Roman Oratour hath acknow∣ledged. We do not read that ever the Sun stood still to hear the gracefull words of an eloquent tongue, nor to behold the Theaters and Amphithea∣ters of the Romans, nor the Olympick games of Gre∣cians, nor all the other objects of admiration, which are in the industrie of men: But we do well know from the Oracle of truth, that this great Star, admi∣red by all the world, immoveably stayed, as charmed by the voice of a souldier, the illustrious Josuah, at that time, when he acted so many brave feats of arms; as if it would admire his prowess, and enlighten his conquests▪

And what is there also more admirable in the * 2.55 world, than to see a man, covered with steel, who curvetteth on a generous horse, and hasteneth, his head bowed, to throw himself through the battal∣lions, all bristled with launces and swords, through so many musket-shots, so many hail-showers of iron, and so many dreadfull images of death, which he as freely defieth, as if he were immortal, and as little spareth life, as if he had a hundred to loose? What a spectacle to behold him in a furious conflict, like a thunder-bolt in the cloud, which forceth his prison, and breaks all resistance, flying upon wings of fire, and the whirling roar of thunder, to shake the height of rocks? What an affrightment to see him in an∣other posture, scaling a wal, all beset with arms and terrours, and hastening into danger with the same pace and visage, as another to a feast? What support and what consolation for poor people (whom inju∣stice and hostility would butcher, as sheep ordained to slaughter) to perceive a brave captain, with a flying squadron, dissevering the malignity of those forces,

conspired to the ruine of innocents, and by the splendour of his arms changing all the storms into calms?

O what a beauty is it to receive wounds in those combates, from whence floweth more glory than bloud! O what greatness to reap palms in midst of so many thorns! O what a felicity to behold his battels attended by so many laurels, congratulations, and ap∣plauses of the people, preserved by this military vir∣tue! How can all be in this profession but glorious, seeing death it self, the terrible of terribles, sheweth a face all smiling to those, who are buried in their va∣lour, as in the true tomb of honour?

It seemeth holy Histories do likewise describe these * 2.56 great Captains with some delight, when they make them march in the war. So they tell us (a) 2.57 of Judas Machabaeus, who having put on his arms appeared like a Gyant, and that he in the battel was seen like a roaring Lion, seeking out his prey. So they describe in the second of Kings (b) 2.58 the prowess of David, and other valiant men, who flourished in this time with most particular Elogies. So they depaint unto us in a very admirable manner the strength and stratagems of Gedeon against the Midianites.

Valour is matter of astonishment, which transport∣eth all men both great and small, wittie and dull, to honour its qualities. Aristotle, the politest judgement which hath been in former Ages, so much wonder∣eth at this warlick force, though far distant from his profession, that he composed an excellent Hymn in praise of it, which is yet to be found in Diogenes Laertius: Where he calleth it a virtue most painfull for mortals, but the fairest ornament of Civil life: A virtue, which hath such attractive beauty, that the most generous hearts seek for death with strife to en∣joy the lustre of its glory. If then this valour have such attraction, considered onely within the limits of nature, how will it be if once advanced by the assi∣stance of grace and virtues, which take al that is harsh from it to make it shine with rays of a true and hap∣py majesty? Is there any thing more lovely in the whole world, than to see a valorous souldier furnish∣ed with qualities of piety, prudence, justice, liberality, goodness, honesty, and with all other graces, which are in a sweet disposition, as stars sown in the azure of celestial globes?

Oh Nobility, if you knew your own excellency, and could conform your life to your dignity, what lustre and support would you afford to Christen∣dom? It was the faith of a souldier, and of a soul∣dier issued from Paganism, which the mouth of the living God hath exalted above all the piety of the Is∣raelites, when he so highly commended the Centu∣rion of the Gospel, for acknowledging the Saviour had as much power over maladies and things in∣sensible, as an absolute Captain over his souldiers. It was a souldier, whom Saint Peter by the reve∣lation of the Angel did first of all consecrate to faith, as the first fruits of Gentilism. They are warriours which so often replenish our Martyro∣loges with their names, our memories with their veneration, and mouthes with prayers offered up to them. These hearts have at all times been capable to receive seeds of most noble virtues, and now adays they are suffered to putrifie in neglect, or∣dure, and bruitishness. Oh Nobility, deceive not your selves in the acknowledgement of the badges of your profession, nor flatter your selves under a false mask of valour. I will here represent to you the Palace of military virtue, and shew the way you must walk in, to arrive thither, not suffering your selves to be seduced by chimerical fantasies and illu∣sions of greatness, onely big-swoln with smoak, and which when they have promised to make mountains, produce nothing but rats and vermine.

The second SECTION. The enterance into the Palace of valour, and the illusions of Salmoneans and Rodomonts..

THe ingenious Delben, who hath composed all Aristotoles moral Philosophie in excellent Ta∣bles, figureth unto us at the entery into the Palace of valour, an enraged Mistress, called Auda∣ciousness, which seduceth an infinite number of Sal∣moneans or Rodomonts, under colour of virtue. It is true, she is dumb in this piece of painting, but I re∣solve to shew her full of life in this Treatise, and dis∣cover to you the slie practises and damnable maxims, which she makes use of to deceive the spirits of this Age; to the end, that the knowledge of the evil may with more facility furnish us for application of remedies.

Suffer me here, O Reader, to imitate the great S. Isi∣dore, * 2.59 who the more natively to represent the horrour of vices, makes them dispute against virtues, putting into their mouthes all their lewd maxims. Afford me the liberty, that I may manifest the disorders, which are at this day in the corrupt Nobility, by the mouth of a Rabsaces, the wicked souldier, who undertaketh to give precepts to youth, and dictate most perni∣cious counsels, which shall afterward be refuted by the Christian souldier.

Note and behold the damnable precepts of Rabsaces, the false Souldier, which con∣tain a true Satyre of the manners of the de∣praved Nobilitie.

IMagine to your self, that this dangerous Master goes before the Nobilitie, which seeketh after the glory of Arms, and that he taketh by the hand a young man, whom he sees apt for his impressions, and sheweth him, in stead of the true mansion of for∣titude, a Palace all of wind, built upon quick∣silver, where palms and laurels grow like the fruits of Sodom, which flie into ashes when we think to touch them. Thereupon he thus discourseth with him, wherein you shall too well know the manners and inclinations predominant in the petty Salmone∣ans of this Age.

Sir, behold you are in the Palace of valour, and I am he whom you search for, I purposely present my self before you, to receive you with open arms, and dictate precepts from my lips, which shall make you to equal the glory of Caesars and Alexanders.

I affirm the time hath been when brave souldiers took the sword from the Altar, to employ it for the honour of Altars, and lived in the exercise of Arms, as in the Temple of the God of hosts: but these kind of actions are more found in ancient histories, than in the manners of men that live at this pre∣sent. If thou wilt be a souldier of the time, I wish * 2.60 thee to become a petty Cyclop, and know very little what God or Religion is, but to swear by the one, and profane the other. I should fear lest this devo∣tion may not soften thy courage, which is esteemed at this day not to be of temper good enough, if it have not much impietie. Thy oaths shall be thy * 2.61 Sacraments; thy mysteries, the cabale of the wick∣ed; the table, thy Altar; the dishes, thy Sacrifices; and thou shalt account thy sword, as a Deitie, which thou shalt bear hanging at thy girdle, without fur∣ther search. If needs thou must for ceremonie go to Church, pass along as if thou went'st to a dancing, free from apprehension of the Divine Majesty, for that may make thee melancholy: and when thou art there, without any distinction of profane or sacred,

dispose thy self to laugh and geer upon all occasions which are presented: for indeed we must pleasantly pass away this little ill time. Thou shalt set thy self into divers postures, which shall savour much of a jugler, to keep the decorum of men of thy condi∣tion; and if there be nothing to be talked on, nor jest to be broken, at least thou shalt turn thy head on every side, and make thy eyes and thoughts hunt af∣ter objects which may please the sense. I well know, that all this (taken according to the model of an∣cient piety) is held for a great sacriledge: But thou art very capable of it; and if thy countenance de∣ceive me not, thou wilt never be one of those scru∣pulous ones, who think the Churches are made for nothing but prayer.

Thou shalt learn in good time to lie, swear, for∣swear, * 2.62 slander, and blaspheme: for it is very ordi∣nary Rhetorick in the mouth of our Salmoneans. Go not about to search into old Histories, as Charls the Eighth, who hewed through the Alps, conquer∣ed the Kingdom of Naples, and made Constantinople with its Ottomans, to tremble with the onely shadow of his name, yet durst not so much as swear by his faith. We are no longer in such kind of times; men now are so accustomed to lie, that needs must oaths mount by degrees up to the clouds, to assure a truth, although with extream swearing it is taken for a lie. And were there no other reason of swearing, but to make an able man, since thou canst not be valiant with thy arm, cut through confidently with thy tongue.

Let brags and Rodomontadoes never drie in thy mouth, no more than water in huge rivers. If thou * 2.63 wilt have one of the greatest virtues of the times, thou must be froward and peevish, and speak of no∣thing but duels, of challenges, and assignments of the place; and as soon as thou shalt hear some speech of any man of valour, thou must say, thou much de∣sirest one day to see him with sword in hand, and that thou hast heretofore seen others, over whom thou hadst great advantage. Swear in good earnest, that such a one hath done thee wrong: but that thou wilt evict reparation from him, sealed with his bloud: dispute, swagger, tell tales, make quarrels arise about a pins point, press to be a second to this man, and that man, but ever engage others, and as nimbly as thou canst draw thy pin back again from the game. Believe me, the whole mystery consisteth onely in setting a good face on't. If thou canst counterfeit wounds, as Hereticks false miracles, thou shalt not do much amiss. For all valour now adays bendeth that way. It sufficeth, it be said, thou art a man to kill or be killed bravely. It is true, that an∣ciently some duels were permitted in time of war, enemy against enemy, and executed in the view and presence of Captains of both parts, who beheld them with much solemnity. So the brave Chevalier Bay∣ard, the eye and arm of French warfare, slew Al∣phonsus de Soto-major, a Spanyard, in the field of bat∣tel, before the eyes of both Armies, who beheld this spectacle. This made the souldier very confident to enter into lists with military laws in presence of his Captain, against an adversary of another Nation. Where shall we now adays find the like valour? Of necessity night, private places, and ugly corners must be sought out, to fight a duel: yea, I leave thee to consider what a goodly spectacle it would be, if one from a Theater might behold the countenance of these Rodomonts, most violent in words; you should see them tremble, wax pale, quake, be amazed, trou∣bled, and in the end be slain, like wretched swine; but this is not honest, we therefore must find out some scarff to cover the cowardise of these clande∣stine combats.

The more a man is ignoble, cowardous, or unhap∣py, so much the more ought he seek out such kind of duels: I say ignoble, though I am not ignorant it hath heretofore been the trade of slaves; but opi∣nion hath made it now a way for Gentlemen. Be∣hold why those, who find themselves to be of base extraction, do the more fervently seek out such oc∣casions, as if they should thereby blot out their igno∣minie. I say cowardous, for it is to become confi∣dent in a base business, where lackies and butchers may be Masters. I say unhappy, for it is the means to consummate his misery, without having many witnesses: needs must the desperate find some gate to escape from life, as would enraged beasts from a list, by leaping over the rails. In the end, when thou shalt die in this combat, thou hast nothing to loose, but a wicked soul. And though thou art most wretchedly slain, our Salmoneans will say, thou diedst in the bed of honour, and that sufficeth to be valiant to the world.

When thou art in the war, thou shalt be a kind of * 2.64 Barbarian, in such sort, that the Peasants shall take thee to be more than an Army of Hunnes or Tartars. If thou hast any command, thou shalt march all puf∣fed up with vain-glory, and make thy self known by the disasters of the poor. If thou be called on, to put thy hand to thy purse, thou shalt pay thy hostess with threats, and thy souldiers with impunity of crimes. Thou shalt endeavour to lengthen out the war as long as thou canst, and if thou couldest kill peace it self it should suffer, transfixed through the body with thy sword, as the greatest enemy of worthy actions. Thou shalt not hazard thy self to go much among musket-shots, unless those muskets be charged with powder of Cypress, as an Authour of this time hath told us, where pistolets were shot in stead of bullets.

Trouble not thy self to number up thy wounds; * 2.65 thou shalt ever more easily reckon them than thy crimes. As for that which concerneth the vice of impurity, I ordain no more limits to thy lust, than health to thy reason. Heretofore men affected to be∣come better, and a young Cavalier, who made love to a Ladie by the lawfull ways of an honest marriage, shewed himself virtuous to be beloved, such corre∣spondence was there then between love and virtue: men always endeavoured to lodge their affections in a good place, to become honest by the imitation of their loves, which is the most pleasing way that may be found to innocency. All was treated with so much honour, that the least spot of blame was ap∣prehended much more than death: at this day mat∣ters go not so. If thou wilt follow the course of times, and the proceedings of Salmoneans, thy plea∣sures shall be without order, as thy concupiscence without measure: Thou shalt make a trophey of dishonour, nor shalt thou have other scope in thy love, than vice; nor other means, but those which thy bruitishness shall provide thee. Thou shalt make no difference between the bed of married, that of vir∣gins, and women prostitute; and when thou hast se∣duced an unhappy maid, thou shalt vaunt it, as if thou hadst gained a Citie.

For this purpose it is fit thou entertainest bravery, * 2.66 thy belly, and game, for these will be the furies most familiar to thy humour: thou shalt take the most costly stuffs out of the shops of Merchants, to cover thy stench with gold and scarlet, and thou shalt hold all the best Artisans in breath to serve thee. When thou must pay thy debts, thou shalt revenge benefits by force of injuries, and close up thy infi∣delity with all sorts of ingratitude. If thou hast * 2.67 subjects, thou shalt use them like slaves, and govern them with all rigour, exercising violence on their bodies, and rapine on their goods: one shall feed thy dogs, the other thy horses, the other thy servants, which ordinarily are petry Tartarians, whose inso∣lency fostered by the Masters and Lords, doth all

which may be expected from a servile soul, that hath authoritie in its hands; yea, thou shalt endeavour to make good men believe, that what thou hast done is for their preservation; as was said to the poor shep∣heard, from whom the sacrificers of Hercules had more sheep than would have served an Army of wolves. Thy table, notwithstanding the tears and necessities of the publick, shall ever be abundant in delicacies, and for thy recreation, thou shalt play thy gold with a full hand, although it be the bloud of so many men, to whom thou art beholden. Thou shalt be the chicken of the white hen, and needs must the riches of the wealthy, the industry of trades-men, the virtues of innocent, even hunger it self, and the miseries of the most wretched, be tributaries to thy riots.

I wish, that exteriourly thou appear with an open * 2.68 visage, a smiling countenance, a very honest deport∣ment; but be thou inwardly full of cauteries, and be thy heart always replenished with more stains, than the most spotted skin of a Panther. Thou shalt * 2.69 sell thy soul to ambition, and to advance thy for∣tune, shalt neither hearken to God, Angel, consci∣ence, nor virtue: Thou shalt have no regard to the person either of father, mother, brother, or sister, but the measure of all thy amities shall be thy own inte∣rests. Thou must not think any thing unjust, when it shall be for thy own accommodation, nor be thou scrupulous in matter of conscience; of what side soever profit accrew, it hath ever a good savour. Thou shalt, to suit with the time, bear a mind more black than the abyss, and to ruin an innocent, shalt not spare such treacheries and treasons as have here∣tofore been accounted most horrible: but the cu∣stom of the Age, which is so naturalized in vice, causeth that we now grow familiar with monsters. Thou shalt raise gain out of all, if thou canst; and let there not be a vice, that yields thee not tribute. Thy words shall be full of cunning, thy cunning of pro∣misses, and thy promisses of wind. Finally, thou shalt live in Christianity, as a Janissary at the Porta of the great Turk; and for recompence, when thou shalt end thy days, which cannot last very long, thou shalt directly go to the Paradice of Mahomet, with those great lights, Sardanapalus, Epicurus, Ba∣jazet, and Selymus.

Behold the infamous and pernicious discourse, which this wicked Master held with this young man: wherein you may observe a true Satyre of the lives of many, who entitle themselves Noble, although their manners are far worse than these my words, and that the imagination of a writer cannot so much feign, but they in their profane actions will express much more. Let us now behold the Palace of true va∣lour, and take an antidote against the poisons of the times.

The third SECTION. The Temple of Valour, and sage Precepts, gi∣ven by the Christian Souldier, to refute the manners of the times. And first, that Pietie helpeth Valour.

THe Souldier pursuing his way, entereth into the Temple of Valour, where, according to the excellent conceits of the painter before mentioned, he beholdeth on the frontispiece of the Palace a goodly tower of Chrystal, adorned with lights, as the Globe of glass, in which the Persians heretofore bare the image of the Sun: or else by the imitation of that huge Pharos of Alexandria, which enlightened the sea on all sides, to guide vessels to a safe haven. This was expresly set down to signi∣fie the great and divine lights of wisdom, which are in a true Christian valour. This Palace seemed whol∣ly built of rocks of the colour of iron, streamed with little veins of bloud, which well shewed it was pur∣posely done, to represent the invincible courage of the pupils of this virtue. The Halls were all hanged with prowess and victories: and in stead of columes, it had great Statues of the most valorous men of the world, who flourished in the revolution of so many Ages. Valour bare sway within it, sitting, not on gilli-flowers, or roses, but encompassed with thorns and sufferings, ever armed, and still with sword in hand, with which it cut off an infinite number of monsters, and chased away all Salmoneans from its house.

In this Palace was the brave Eleazar, who, as soon as he from far perceived this young Souldier, he cau∣sed him to draw near, and spake to him in these terms:

Son, I doubt not but you found at the enterance into my Iodging a wicked Sorcerer, who hath by the ear empoisoned you: It is necessary you cleanse it, to make your self capable of the singular precepts of valour and wisdom, which I am now presently to afford you, seeing you for this cause are come hi∣ther into my Palace. It hath been told you, that to be a good souldier, you must become a little Cyclop, * 2.70 without any feeling of God or Religion: for devo∣tion were but to weaken your warlick humours. Those who have said this unto you, have told no∣thing new. It is an old song, which they have drawn out of Machiavel, who thinking to make a Prince, have made a wild beast, and yet would perswade us it was a man; but those that believe it, are such onely as bear their eyes on their heels. Let us not serve our * 2.71 selves with this Phylosophie of flesh, which maketh valour and devotion, as two things incompatible. Verily I go not about to require of you an affected, enforced, and ceremonious piety, that is out of the limits of your profession. I would have you a soul∣dier, and not a Monk: but assure you the prime virtue of art military, is, to have good thoughts, and pure beliefs touching the Divinity, then to practice suit∣ableness thereto by offices and exteriour actions of pietie.

When I speak this, I am so strong in reasons, that * 2.72 I dare take our enemies themselves for Judges. Be∣hold the subtile Machiavel, who upon the Decads of Titus Livius, sheweth Religion is an admirable instru∣ment of all great actions, and that the Romans made use thereof to establish their Citie, pursue their en∣terprizes, and pacifie tumults and seditions, which rose in the revolution of State. Because it was (said he) more conscience to offend God than men, belie∣ving his power surpassed all humane things. So we see, that all those who would form, cherish, or ad∣vance a State, although they had no true Religion in their souls, have taken pretexts, as Lycurgus, Numa, Sertorius, Ismael the Persian, and Mahomet. I demand of you thereupon (my souldier) if by the testimony of this man, who hath made himself our adversary, false beliefs have had so much power up∣on minds, that they have rendered them more doci∣ble to virtue, more obedient to Sovereignty, more ad∣venterous to undertake things difficult, more patient to tollerate matters displeasing, more couragious to surmount those which make opposition; if, I say, the sole imagination of a false Divinity, accounted to punish misdeeds and recompence valour with a tem∣poral salary, was powerfull enough to make Legions flie, all covered with iron, through so many perils, must we not say by the confession of our very ene∣my, that a true Religion, as ours is, which promi∣seth so many rewards to virtue, and punishments for crime, not for a time, but for all eternity, if it be once well engraven in hearts, shall produce so

many worthy effects beyond those of other Sects, as truth is above lying, reality above nothing, and the sun above the shaddows?

From whence think you do so many neglects grow, but from coldness in Religion? For how can a souldier but be valiant, when he is confidently per∣swaded it is the will of the living God that he obey his Prince, as if he beheld a Divinity upon earth; and that burying himself in the duty of this obedience, being well purified from his sins, he takes a most as∣sured way to beatitude? How can he be but the more couragious, having received absolution of his sins, by the virtue of the Sacrament, since by the Con∣fession of all Sages, there is nothing so perplexed, so timorous, so inconstant, as a conscience troubled with the image of its own crimes? How should it spare a transitory life, having a firm belief of immortality, since the wisest have judged, that the valour of an∣cient Gauls, which was admired by the Romans, pro∣ceeded from no other source, but from a strong per∣swasion which the Druides had given them, touch∣ing the immortality of our souls? How could he be but most confident, if he stedfastly beheld the eye of the Divine Providence of God, perpetually vigilant for his protection? How could he be, but most fer∣vent, if he did but figure the Saviour of the world at the gates of Heaven, with his hands full of re∣wards? See you not that all reasons combat for us, as well as experience?

I will not flatter Christians, under pretext that I call my self the Christian Knight, nor ought I be∣tray my cause under the shaddow of modesty: Let all the ancient and modern Histories be read, let milita∣ry acts be examined, and courages poized in a just bal∣lance, I challenge the ablest Chronicler to present me any valour out of Greek or Roman Historie, where the most admirable prowesses are to be seen, that I do not shew them perpetually parallel'd, yea, surpassed by the courage of Christians. When I read * 2.73 those histories of elder times, I behold Grecians that triumphed, for having vanquished Xerxes; who, to say the truth, was a Stag leading an army of sheep: never was any thing seen so perplexed. And although there had been no opposition, yet was this great body composed of a lazie stupified army, onely strong to ruin it self. I see a young Alexander, who, to speak truth, was of an excellent nature, though the most judicious observe great errour in his carri∣age, he oft-times being rash, and many times insolent; but it was well for him he had to do with such gross Novices, whose eyes were dazled with the simple glimmer of a sword, for had he come to encoun∣ter the arms of Europe, his Laurels doubtless would have been seen to wax hoary in the Northern snows. I see the Roman Caesars, who invade, or those which are already effeminated by their proper vice, or such as are wanderers, and dis-united, not to have an assured State to resist their enemies. My ears are perpetually filled with the acts of Cynogirus, who ha∣ving both his hands cut off, bit the arms and ships of his enemies with his teeth; of one Otryades, who wrote his victory with his own bloud; of one Ser∣gius, who fought four times with the left hand, which Plinie observeth in his History, as a prodigie; of the one-eyed Horatius, who defended a bridge against the Army of his enemies; of a maid named Claelia, who passed over Tyber on horse-back; of one Sicinnius, that had been in six-score combats, and bare away thirty six spoils of his enemies, with five and fourty wounds at divers times. I will not exte∣nuate their prowess, nor take away from them the honour they deserved; for to say there was no va∣lour nor vigour in these ancient courages, were to proceed against common opinion. But we now a∣days see many Aristarchuses in the world, who have spirits so retrograde, that when we speak of bruit beasts, they highly glorifie them above men, as if they were of the race of Ulysses his souldiers, who, as fa∣bles tell us, were turned into hogs: so when we come to compare the valour of Christians with that of Infidels, they find nothing, which on our part may give them content, so much have they either of malice, or stupidity.

Let me die, if in the sole life of Captain Bayard, * 2.74 warlick atchievments may not be observed, which in manage and valour surpass those of Alexander's and Pompey's: and he that would number all the heroick actions which have been performed in our wars, sometimes by silly souldiers, sometimes also by Chri∣stian women, might as soon reckon the stars in the fir∣mament. And had I now undertaken to make a sim∣ple enumeration of great Captains, which have flou∣rished in Christendom, it would weary pens, fill books, and confound readers.

I would willingly know whether Constantine, go∣ing out of an Oratory where he prayed with the Bishops, before he had so many battels, was less va∣liant against Maxentius, Maximianus, Licinius▪ If Theodosius in recommending himself so particularly to the prayers of Monks, have the less done his de∣voir against Maximus and Eugenius? Whether He∣raclius were the more remiss for carrying the Image of our Blessed Ladie in his hands, when he subdued Cosroes King of Persia in three pitched battels? Whe∣ther Clodovaeus did the less good, when he caused his standards to march under the conduct of the prayers of Saint Martin? Whether Charls Martel were weakened in his devotions, when at the onely battels of Towers he cut in pieces three hundred three-score and fifteen thousand Saracens, with the most hydeous slaughter that ever was seen? Whe∣ther Charlemaine in being so firmly tied to Altars, felt his arm to fail against the Lombards, Saxons, and Moors? Whether the sword of Godfrey of Bovillon, after so many actions of piety were the less keen, when it cleft the Barbarians at a blow, from the crown of the head to the girdle-stead, and glistered in azure all covered with rays of Palms and Laurels? Whether Bellisarius in being a good Catholick, did the less charge the Goths? And whether Simon Mom∣fort in taking his sword from the Altar, were the less dreadfull to the Albigean Hereticks?

Assuredly there is nothing so strong, nothing so invincible, nor triumphant, as a valour which mar∣cheth under the laws of Christian Religion. The Turkish Nation, which seemeth to be born to bran∣dish the sword, and to have ample transcendency in matters of arms, feareth not so much the Per∣sian and Tartarian standards, as the banners of Chri∣stians. And Baronius in an Epistle dedicatory of his Annals, which he wrote to the Great Henry the Fourth, of famous memory, observeth, that they hold it as a fatal Prophefie among them, that their Empire shall never be destroyed, unless it be by the hands of French-men. If they have obtained victo∣ries against Christians in so many wars, it hath ever been our divisions that have disarmed us, our ambi∣tions that have devoured us, our Apostata-brothers who have betrayed us, our Infidels who have acquain∣ted them with our intentions, our industries, and arms, our mutual quarrels which have wasted us, our sins that have chastised us, the hand of a powerfull God which hath excited the Saracens to purifie, un∣der some colour of temperance and justice, those lands which ours had defiled by so many ordours and sa∣criledges, for otherwise there could not be any force in the world able to resist Christian Princes, were they well united.

We know it by the success of the battel of Lepan∣to, and the prowess of George Castrioth, called Scan∣derbeg, who with a flying camp defeated seven Ge∣nerals of the Turkish Army, in seven great battels,

wherein he slew two thousand men with his own hand, and in the end made Amurath stark mad, to see himself defied, beaten, and maimed by a petty Lord, and with so small numbers. What could this brave courage have done had it been assisted with men, gold and arms, answerable to his merits?

Are you not then very ridiculous, O Souldier, when to be accounted valiant, you play the Cyclop, and fear lest devotion might weaken your courage? Accuse not your Religion, for it is holy: accuse not devotion, for it is innocent. Rather accuse your own impiety, your own neglect, your own unworthiness of spirit, and your own baseness: that is it which en∣feebleth you, and causeth that you are onely valiant to play the beast. No man looseth courage, but he that never had it, and no man hath it, if he beg it not of the true God of hosts. Where should we seek for light but of the Sun, for water but in rivers, and heat but in fire? And where think you to find true strength, but with the God of the strong? The more you shall be united to him, the more able shall you be; not that he will ever give you strength of body, as to Milo, that you may bear an ox; but in serving him, you shall have from him the courage of a man, who hath his root in reason, his increase in piety, and his Crown in true glory.

The fourth SECTION. Manifest Proofs, which declare that Pie∣tie and Valour are not things in∣compatible.

IT is an intollerable thing to see certain young Roarers, who think to make themselves esteem∣ed valiant by profession of impiety, and have as it were but one shame, which is, not to be shame∣less at all, as if we had never seen, nor as yet was ever heard in the world, of souldiers furnished be∣fore God and men with great and Divine virtues, who fail not to be as couragious as Lions. Let us not search out Saints of the Martyrologe, let us onely behold among a thousand, one man, whose life was very lately printed, written in a low stile, I mean the Marshal Boucicaut, who flourished in France * 2.75 under Charls the Sixth. These petty Rodomonts, who make boast of duels, meer cowardice covered with an opinion of courage, durst not behold this Captain without doing that which heretofore was done to the statues of the Sun, that is, to put fin∣ger on the mouth, and admire. For, not to speak of his other acts of prowess, it is he who was pre∣sent * 2.76 at that furious battel, wherein Bajazet the Turk∣ish Emperour, waged war against the King of Hun∣garie; where there were many French-men, the Duke of Burgundie, then called the Count of Nevers, be∣ing there in person.

The history saith, that the Turk coming to fight with dreadfull forces, began so furious a charge, the air being thickened with a black cloud of ar∣rows, that the Hungarians, who were reputed good souldiers, much trembled at this assault, and fled away. The French, who ever had learned in all bat∣tels * 2.77 to vanquish or die, unwilling so much as to hear any speech of the name of flight, pressed into the Turkish Army, notwithstanding the stakes and pyles fixed in the earth to serve as hinderances, and attend∣ed by some other troups, brake the Vanguard of the Turks, by the counsel and example of this brave Mar∣shal; whereat Bajazet much amazed, was ready to re∣tire, at which time it was told him, there was but a very little handfull of French men, who made the greatest resistance, and that it were best to assault them. He, who kept his battalions very fresh, returneth and came to fall upon these poor souldiers, now extream∣ly tired. Never did angry Lion exercise such vio∣lent force amongst the javelins of hunters, as was then the prowess which shined in this generous Captain. For, he having no further purpose but to sell his own life, and those of his companions, as dear as he could, so negligently betrayed, he with the French Cavalry, and some few other people who stuck to him, did such feats of arms, that it was thought twenty thou∣sand Turks were slain in the place. In the end, this prodigious multitude, able to weary out the most har∣dy, although it had been but to cut them to pieces, did so nearly encompass our French, that the Count Nevers, with Marshal Boucicaut, and the most worthy personages, were taken prisoners.

The next day after this dismal battel, Bajazet sit∣ting * 2.78 under a pavillion spred for him in the field, cau∣sed the prisoners to be brought before him, to drench himself in bloud and vengeance, which he so passio∣nately loved.

Never was spectacle seen more worthy of com∣passion: the poor Lords, who had done wonders in arms, able to move Tigers, were led as it were half naked, straitly bound with coards and fetters; no regard being had neither to their bloud, which was noble, nor youth, which was pitifull, nor their behaviour, most ravishing; these Saracens, ugly and horrible as devils, set them before the face of the Tyrant; who in the winck of an eye, caused their throats to be cut at his feet, as if he meant to carrouse their bloud.

The Count Nevers, with two other Counts of Ewe and Marche, had now their heads under the symitar, and their lives hung but as it were at a thread, when Bajazet having heard by his interpreters, that they were neer kinsmen to the King of France, caused them to be reserved, commanding they should sit on the ground at his feet, where they were enforced to be∣hold the lamentable butchery of their Nobilitie.

The valiant Marshal Boucicaut in his turn was pro∣duced, covered with a little linnen cloth, to massacre him over the bodies of so many valiant men. He, who was wise, and particularly inspired by God in this extremity, made a sign with his fingers before Baja∣zet, who understood not his language, as if he would declare himself the kinsman of the Count of Nevers, who beheld him with an eye so pitifull, that it was of power to rent rockie hearts. Bajazet being perswa∣ded by this sign, that he was of the bloud Royal, cau∣sed him to be set apart to remain a prisoner; where he afterward by his great prudence, endeavoured the liberty of those noble Gentlemen, and his own. I cannot think these petty Novices of war will com∣pare themselves to the valour of this man, accomplish∣ed with such heroick prowess.

Let us come, if it please you, to consider him at * 2.79 leisure, whether he were of the number of those, who profess themselves wicked, that they may seem valiant. He was a man, who in time of peace, whilest he governed the Citie of Genoa, daily heard two Mas∣ses, with so exemplar devotion, that he never suffered any man to speak to him in the Church; where he said the Office with singular attention, for which he so accommodated his company, that you should ne∣ver see the least action of uncomeliness in Divine ser∣vice, which he did not severely punish. But the Histo∣rian addeth, that who had beheld his people at Mass, would rather think he saw Religious men than Soul∣diers. Noblemen are of power to bend their fami∣lies to what they please, were it not that through soft∣ness of spirit, they many times give way to the tor∣rent; and contenting themselves to be good, make all the rest nought by the easiness of their natures. I speak not here to you of a Canonical Saint, a Hermit, a Religious man, a Priest; I speak of a Marshal of France, of a most ardent warriour.

Behold, I pray, whether piety be incompatible * 2.80 with arms. This brave Captain happily made his Will, disposing of all his devotions, his affairs, and charge: each day he executed some part hereof, do∣ing all the good he could during his life, not expe∣cting the casual portions of others piety, as those, who cause the torch to be carried behind, to light them when they have lost their eyes, and indeed never do well, but when they are in a condition to be able to do no more. The charitable Lord informed him∣self very particularly of the necessities of the bashfull poor, set their names down in his Registers, as the ra∣rest pieces of his cabinet, appointed on every side his alms to poor Religious, to widdows, to orphans, to needy souldiers, namely those, who through inabili∣ty of old age and sickness, could labour no more. He visited Hospitals, giving, according to his means, round sums of money to furnish and acommodate them; if he walked in the streets, he ever had cha∣rity in his hands, that himself might give all he could, for he therein took a singular contentment: and ne∣ver was he seen to be so merry, as when he had distri∣buted good store of money; this was his hunting, his game, his delight.

He bare a singular devotion towards the friday, in memory of the passion of our Saviour; and whilest he was able, did eat nothing on that day but fruits and pulse, abstaining from all which participated of the life of beasts; and clothed himself likewise with a most simple habit, desirous to shew exteriourly some tast of the reverence we ow to the bloud of the Son of God. Besides abstinencies commanded, he ordinarily fasted the saturday, which is dedica∣ted to the memory of the Blessed Virgin. He never fed at his repast but on one dish, and though he had great quantity of silver vessels, he caused himself to be served in pewter and earth, being glorious in pub∣lick, and in his particular, an enemy of worldly pomps and vanities.

I leave you to think, how much this kind of life is alienated from the curious Nobility, to whom we must daily give so many priviledges and dispen∣sations, that it seems it is for their sakes needfull to create another Christendom, besides that which hath been established by the Son of God. A man would say, to see how they pamper their bodies, they were descended from Heaven, and that thither they should return, not passing through the sepul∣cher, for they deifie it, and to fatten and guild a dung-hill covered with snow, sport with the bloud and sweat of men.

Superfluity of tast being so well repressed, all went * 2.81 in true measure in the house of this good Marshal: his retinue was very well entertained according to his quality, and he had a very solemn custom by him religiously observed, which was speedily to pay his debts, and as much as he might possible to be engaged * 2.82 to none. It is no small virtue, nor of sleight im∣portance, if we consider the Nobility at this time, so easily engulfed in great labyrinths of debts, which daily encrease like huge balls of snow that fall from mountains, and which require ages and golden mynes to discharge them.

Is it not a most inexcusable cruelty before God and men, to see a busie Merchant, a needy Artificer, every day to multiply his journeys and steps before the gate of a Lord or a Ladie, who bear his sweat and bloud in the pleyts of their garments? And in stead of giving some satisfaction upon his most just requests, it is told him he is an importunate fellow, and he many times menaced with bastonadoes, if he desist not to demand his own. Is not this to live like a Tartarian? Is not this to degrade ones self from Nobilitie, Christianitie, and Reason? Is not this to thrust the knife into the throat of houses and entire families? Alledge not unto me▪ that it is impossible for you to pay at that time what is demanded. Why well foreseeing your own impotency, have you heap∣ed up debts, which cannot be discharged? Why do you not rather admit the lessening of your port? Why cut you not off so many superfluous things? Are not your sins odious enough before God, but you must encrease them with the marrow of the poor? From hence ariseth the contempt of your per∣sons, the hatred of your name, the breaches and ruin of your houses.

This man in well paying his debts, was served and * 2.83 respected of Officers, like a little Deitie: there was no need to doubt, nor to make a false step into his house. Never would he suffer a vice, or a bad servant, were it to gain an Empire. Blasphemies, oaths, lies, slanders, games, quarrels, and such like ordures were banished from his Palace, as Monsters; and if he found any of his family in fault, he dismissed them, lest they should infect the other; yet not scandalizing them, nor divulging their offences. At the table he spake little, and did voluntarily entertain himself with ex∣ample of virtues in the lives of Noblemen, not open∣ing his mouth to discourse of his own proper acts, but with singular sobriety.

In his marriage he demeaned himself most chaste∣ly, and had such a horrour against impuritie, that he would not so much as keep a servant who had a lust∣ful eye. Behold the cause, why passing one day on hors∣back through the streets of the Citie of Genoa, as a Ladie presented her self at her window to comb her hair, and one of the Gentlemen of the Marshals trayn, seeing her tresses very bright and beautifull, cried out, Oh what a goodly head of hair! staying to behold her, the Lord looked back on him with a severe eye, saying: It is not well done; it is not fit, that from the house of a Governour, a wanton eye should be seen to glance.

In this point and all the rest which concerned the commerce and repose of Citizens, he rendered so prompt and exact justice, that it was a proverb a∣mongst those of Genoa, when any one was offend∣ed, to say to him who had wronged him: If you will not right me, my Lord Marshal will. The other understanding it, oft-times rather chose to submit himself to right, than expect a condemnation which was inevitable. He so by this means gained the good opinion of the people, that the inhabitants of the Citie sent to the King, beseeching he might continue the government to the end of his days: which ha∣ving obtained, it seemed to them, they had drawn an Angel from Heaven, to fix him at the stern of their Common-wealth.

At the time that the Emperour of Constantinople, then dispossessed of one part of his Empire by the great Turk, came into France to demand succour, and had obtained of the King twelve hundred men, de∣frayed for a year; many widdow-Ladies were seen at the Court, who complained of injustices and oppressi∣ons by them endured after the death of their hus∣bands; whereby this good Marshal was so moved with compassion, that with much freedom he instituted an Order of Knights for the defence of afflicted Ladies, which he surnamed The Order of the white Ladie, because they who made profession of it, bare a schu∣chion of gold enameled with green, and thereon the figure of a Ladie in colour white: thus sought he by all occasions to do good, and shewed himself a great enemy of idleness, the very moth of minds.

He ordinarily rose early in the morning, and spent about three hours in Prayer and Divine Service: at the end whereof he went to Councel, which lasted till dinner time. After his repast, he gave audience to all those, who would speak with him upon their affairs, not failing to behold his Hall daily full of people, whom he speedily dispatched, contenting every one with answers sweet and reasonable: from

thence he retired to write letters, and to give that order to his Officers, which his pleasure was should be observed in every affair: and if he had no other employment, he went to Vespers. At his return he took some pains, then finishing the rest of his office, ended the day. The Sundays and Holy-days either he went on foot in some pilgrimage of devotion, or caused the life of Saints, or other victories to be read, daily more and more to dispose his manners unto virtue. When he marched in the field, he had an admirable way, not to oppress any of his compa∣ny, nor would he permit, even in the land of an ene∣my, that the least disturbance should be given to Ec∣clesiasticks.

Behold you not here a life worthy of a French Ca∣valier? Oh Nobilitie, this man was not a petty Royster, who makes boast to fight in a meadow; but a souldier, who during the wars with the English, kept the field of battel three times, thirty days toge∣ther, against those brave souldiers who would oppose him, from whence he went out all sparkling with glory and wonders.

I would here willingly adde a Bertrand of Guese∣lin, Count of Longuevil, & Constable of France; whose life Monsieur Menard hath given us, written by a pen of that ancient Age, in old language: you shall see a man, who after he had solemnly dedicated in the of∣fertory of a Mass his soul, body, and arms, at the Al∣tars, fought six or seven times hand to hand, exerci∣sed strange feats of battel and arms; stood in the midst of combates, bold, and confident as in his chamber, being otherwise furious, strong, and stout in the press. You should see a man sage in counsels, prompt in execution, whom an enemy found near at hand when he thought him thirty leagues off. A man in all things else free from fraud or dissimulation, chearfull, courteous, obliging, and liberal of his own, employ∣ing his moveables and the jewels of his wife, for re∣lief of poor souldiers. Then you may judge, whe∣ther to be valiant, you may live in the Court of a Christian Prince like a little Turk. Where is your judgement? and where your reason?

The fifth SECTION. Against Duels.

I Do assure my self some will not forget to tell * 2.84 you, that to be valiant men of the times, you must be outragious in slanders, in blasphemies, in auda∣cious words, in duels, challenges, which are the mighty valours of this Age. Well then, my souldier, fol∣lowing this course you will learn to swear and blas∣pheme. I speak not how great this crime is, nor how much you render your ••••ngue punishable in disposing it to this language of devils; but I will say one thing, which is very certain, those which seek for glory out of vice, have not alwayes been made eminently prosperous. All you may doe in purchasing hell by these execrable oathes, will bee to acquire the goodly qualities of a base clown.

And as concerning Duels, I undoubtedly hold, * 2.85 that if this infamous souldier, who hath abused you, were willing to speak the truth, which his con∣science will dictate to him, he rather gives it you for an honest coverture of cowardice, than for true valour. The world is not so doltish as to measure courage by the model of Moors, slaves, and horse-boys, who were the first executours of these but che∣ries. How can you perswade us that a confused mass of these petty mutiners, who have nothing else in their mouthes but these duels, may be valiant men? We are not so ignorant, but that we well know cou∣rage never makes good alliance with servitude and effeminacy. But the most part of this kind of men, are servile spirits, who submit to an infinite number of shamefull and tyrannical laws, for a little smoak. They are bodies withered with laziness, who are * 2.86 many times entangled in their garters, and stand in need to have rings for winter and summer, to change according to the seasons. They fear the lancet of * 2.87 the Surgeon, they crie out aloud for a sleight fe∣ver, and will needs be tended like women in child∣bed: Imagine with your self, what valour can be herein. Were they beaten and stampt into powder in a morter, a hundred of such like Rodomonts would not make up one half ounce of warlick for∣titude. But there is a little despair and rage, which boyleth in a passionate heart, to counterfeit virtue. God forbid, we should take chaff for gold, hem∣lock for parsley, or an Ape for a man. We know valour, by report of great Captains, resteth in ma∣ture deliberation and coolness, as in its true element. When I behold one of these silly braggards, who ha∣steneth to the field for a base fear of some shame, or upon some liver-heat which tormenteth him, I make as much reckoning of it, as if I saw an angry hen. Do you think Sichem was a couragious man for en∣during to be circumcised for the love of Dinah? My opinion is, it was an act of much cowardice to permit himself to be cut with a razor in the most shamefull part of his body, to please a silly female Jew, who when it was done, had great cause to turn this painfull sacrifice into scorn and laughter. This poor Courtier to satisfie a wily wench, for a fool∣ish imagination of point of honour, hasteneth to be cut in pieces in the field: unhappy man, he thinketh to marry Dinah, and finds Proserpina; he proposeth to himself a worldly glory, that may rank him in the number of the valiant, and meeteth a bloudy death, which at one blow killeth body and soul. Let me die, if it be not the poorest thing to behold them in such adventures. For if one did see them, they would make those burst with laughing at their idleness, who were willing to bemoan their misery. I have drawn from this massacre, such as were more amazed than a bridled goose, and more ghastly than a dead man four days after his funeral, taken from his sepulcher. These silly creatures endured all this to make a wretched bruit run up and down in Paris, that they were in the end beaten, and had with so many cold sweats of deaths done that, which their Lackeys, who are somewhat more stupid, would a hundred times with more willingness of heart have undertaken. Behold you not who is worthy either of compassion or contempt? Yet you flatter them with a pretext of courage, which you enforce them to purchase at a costly rate. When you applaud such actions, and tell how brave a combate was perform∣ed behind the Charter-house, and that both of them came thither with much resolution, you are men guilty of bloud: It should suffice you to have your judgements so dull in the estimation which ought to be made upon valour, without rendering your tongues so tragical. Their trembling swords would become very lazie to consummate the mysteries of fu∣ries, if your words armed not despair, to play out the rest of the game.

Perhaps you will say, you know those who have fought duels; who notwithstanding were valiant in Armies. I deny not this. I affirm not that a valiant man cannot fight a duel; but I deny that he is va∣liant for fighting a duel. David had been an adulter∣er, and became a Saint; but it is not for having been an adulterer that he was a Saint; nor shall any one have the reputation of valour among understanding men, for committing a crime. For if this duel were ever an infallible mark of courage, I demand where∣fore have we seen those, who have shewed themselves

most importunate to provoke others to combat, most fiery to hasten thither, most factious to be herein opi∣nionative, and in the mean time, when they came to bear arms, where they must witness true valour for the service of their Prince, such encounters have happen∣ed, that they so despairingly ran off, that they have passed through forrests two leagues over, and not seen a tree, so much affrighted they were. It is not necessary to name them, happily they are already too much renowned in the Histories of the times. And yet you will make much account of these good∣ly swaih-bucklers.

Assure your self the most part of those, who shew * 2.88 such boyling fury in these barbarous acts, are as Lunaticks possessed with an evil spirit. You would be amazed to see a little girle so strong, that there must be twenty men to hold her. From whence, I pray, hath she this force, but that she hath the devil in her body? And tell me, a young Gentleman, who many times hath father, mother, wife, children, honours, riches, pleasures in his life, would he go upon cold bloud to deprive himself of all this? Would he contemn the sacred Edicts of his Prince, now very lately renewed by the zeal of our great Mo∣narch? Would he descend with open eyes into hell, if he had not some black spirit of the abyss, which dreggeth him to the last mischief? He doth that for a cold countenance, an extravagant word, and a ca∣prich of spirit, which he would not either for God, the King, or the whole world. We may well say this is the malady of inferiour houses, and you take it for valour? A poor cocks-comb forsooth, called a second, who putteth into compremise at the discre∣tion of a crack't brain, all that which is most dear unto him in this world, and what he hopeth in the other, going to be the victim of death, or the mur∣derer of a man, whom he never saw or knew, or if he have seen or known him, so far as to love or ho∣nour him, would he play all this goodly prize, if he were not possessed with an evil spirit? Yet you ad∣mire this. Why do you not rather wonder at the countenances, the twindges, and distorted mowings of the possessed?

I begin to perswade you to reason (say you my Gallant:) You are an enemy of this race of Cadmus, derived from the teeth of serpents, and think not these petty wranglers of the times, with all their let∣ters and challenges have any valour: But if a brave spirit be urged to fight by such kind of men, should he refuse it? Verily there are main differences in du∣els, in the causes which make them, and the proceed∣ings of such as execute them. If you must needs go to duel, pass thereunto, as David, in sight of an Ar∣my, with permission of your Prince or your Captain, against some Goliah, who hath defied you. Go thi∣ther with intention to defend the honour of your Nation, and to weaken the contrary faction. Be∣hold who is worthy. If you must go to duel, go thi∣ther when your King or Lord shall command you to accept the combat, to end some notable war, and stay a great effusion of bloud, but by the hazard of two Champions. Behold who is glorious. But if you hasten thither upon some chimera of spirit, which you call by the name of honour, upon some ambiguous word, to which you frame an interpretation against your self, for a cold countenance, a surly brow, for a desire which you have to become pledge of the follies of some fellow, witless, and a slave to his own pas∣sions; if you hasten thither for the love of some un∣chaste woman, to whom you sacrifice humane bloud, how can you be excusable? For if you tell me your honour is more precious unto you than your wealth and life, and therefore, that as the law of nature per∣mitteth you to defend both your riches and body at the point of your sword, against a robber and a ho∣micide, from whom you cannot otherwise dis-en∣gage your self, you have the same right for the de∣fence of your reputation, which is in man as the apple in the eye. I answer, that being so surprized upon the sudden by some assailant, who provoketh you, threat∣neth you, and thrusteth his sword into your sides, if you use not a lawfull defence, it is not then said that you are bound to flie, with some kind of ignominy. Nay, I will say besides, that if true honour were in∣teressed in refusal of a challenge, he that should ac∣cept it, might likewise according to the laws of con∣science seem somewhat tollerable: But from whom ought we to derive this estimation and judgement of true honour? Is it from certain sleight brag∣gards, and witless people, who have sold, themselves to passion, eternally to renounce prudence? Behold goodly Judges of honour: Behold who well deser∣veth to prescribe unto us the rule and price of the most precious thing in the world.

If we desired sincerely to establish the judgement to be made of the point of honour, we ought to search into the resolutions of the Church and Ci∣vilians: but these kind of people are suspected by you, as being alienated from the profession of arms. Let us enquire it in the mouthes of warriours. Was there ever a braver souldier than the late King of most famous memory? And hath there likewise ever been a Prince more dexterous in arms, and more fortunate than he that now reigneth? Since their Edicts condemn duels, both in those who challenge, and such as are challenged, although much diffe∣rent in their proceedings, what do we need any o∣ther judgement to decide the point of honour? But Kings and Princes sovereign (say you) notwithstand∣ing their Edicts, approve those by word of mouth, who shew courage in such like actions. Who dare reproach them with this? Who dare tell them to their faces, that they bely their Edicts by their par∣ticular judgements? Who sees not such words are purposely invented by those men, who seek for pre∣texts to their false liberties? Why these Edicts, di∣ctated by reason, agreed unto with judgement, sup∣ported by justice, provoked by piety; to the writing of which, Jesus Christ would contribute his own bloud, to spare the bloud, and with it the souls of so many, as are lost, and whom to save, he gave up his own life? Where should we learn the rule of honour, the judgement, and will of the Prince, but in Ora∣cles and virtues, which he hath consigned to the me∣mory of all Ages? I intreat you, trouble my head no more with these dastardly combats and detestable massacres; let this be no longer, but for the infamous and melancholy bloud-thirsters. One Bachet, un∣derstanding that a Turkish Captain had called his companion into duel, What, saith he, are there no more Christians? And have not we cause to say▪ Are there no Saracens nor Moors, and other Infidels, to turn th•• ••dge of the sword against our entrails?

The sixth SECTION. Against the ill mannage of Arms.

FRom hence it is likewise, that you are taught in time of war to play the little Cannibal in arms, and to cast nothing but fire and bloud from your throat, that menaces may march before you, and havock and desolation after. Barba∣rous as you are, do you think because you have a sword by your side, you are therefore a Master over the life and bloud of mortals? Never was iron drawn out of the entrails of the earth, but either against wilde beasts, or men who are worse than beasts; and you employ it to torment innocent

people, whom you ought to protect under your wings. It is a strange thing, that men who are made for the support of men, and who are not strong but for defence of the feeble, are now a∣dayes more pernicious than wolves, hail, serpents, inundations, fire, plagues, and famins. Behold that which maketh warfare odious, behold that which disgraceth an honourable profession, be∣hold that which poureth upon the heads of Great-ones, who countenance such actions, the cups of Gods anger, mingled with gaul, worm-wood, and poison of Dragons.

The tears of poor labourers, widdows, and orphans, which are enforced by those who entitle themselves friends, with cruelties that would justifie the Saracens and Moors, cease not to mount to the Throne of God, to ask vengeance on those, who, to satisfie their ambitions, glut their appetites, and fish in troubled waters, enkindling wars intestine, timorarious, and unjust, not regarding the disorders, which ordinarily arise from these wicked counsels. Oh God! it is a ve∣ry great matter, that a man can make a hundred thou∣sand swords to be unsheathed in an instant, which have no eyes to see where they strike, nor hands to pull them back, when they once have received motion. That a man, who hath but one life, should expiate so many deaths, so many violences, so many outrages, as are committed by the unbridled souldiers! Much courage must be necessarily used, to make military di∣scipline be observed, and if these furious corruptions cannot be hindred, it were better to abandō the char∣ges and commands, than to cement them up with the bloud and tears of so many miserable sacrifices.

The brave Belisarius, who was one of the most * 2.89 excellent Captains in the world, having caused two souldiers to be empaled for some crime, seeing others to murmure at it: Know (saith he) I am come to fight with the arms of Religion and Justice, with∣out which we can expect neither victory nor happiness. I desire my souldiers should have their hands clean to kill an enemy. Never will I suffer any man in mine Army, that hath fingers crooked or bloudy, were he in arms as terrible as lightening. Force is of no worth, * 2.90 if it have not equity for companion. Hear a souldier speak. He might perhaps have learned the same les∣son from the Emperour Aurelian, who wrote to one of his Lieutenants: My friend, If thou wilt be a Captain, nay, if thou wilt live, contain thy soldiers in their * 2.91 dutie. I would not that a peasant should so much as com∣plain that he hath been wronged in the value of a chick∣en, nor that any hath taken a grape from his vine with∣out his permission. I will make him give an account even to a grain of salt, or a drop of oyl unjustly exa∣cted. I desire my souldiers should be rich with spoils of enemies, and not the tears of my subjects. I would have them carry their riches upon their swords, not into their cabins. I would have them ••aste in the houses of their hoasts, and that there be no speech of any quarrels.

And is not that strange which Marcus Scaurus * 2.92 writeth, that there have been seen Regiments en∣camped round about a great tree laden with fruit, and the souldiers to depart the next morning, not doing so much wrong, as to take one apple from the Master of the place? And who would not be ama∣zed at that which Lampridius speaketh of Alexander Severus, that his souldiers marched to the Persian war, like Senatours, and that the Countrey-peasants loved them as their brothers, and honoured their Emperour as a God? Is it not a shamefull thing, that Infidels must teach us a lesson of modesty, and that this Alexander, who had learned a lesson from Christians, which was, not to do that to another which we would not have done to our selves, obser∣ved it so exactly even in the liberty of arms, that he thereby became as it were adored by his subjects? And in the mean time we behold Gentlemen, who never having wanted good precepts, exercise tyran∣nies on their subjects, both in peace and war, such as Scythians and Arabians would abhor to do. War cannot now adays be made, but that it seems At∣tila with his Army is raised up, once more to pil∣lage France. It is not enemies they seek to surprize, but purses: and they are ever criminal enough, who have some, though but small wealth to loose. I know not where to seek for his unhappiness, to find it in its source. The souldier excuseth himself upon ne∣cessity, the Captain complaineth of payment, the one filcheth, and the other quarrelleth, whilest the disor∣der is immortal.

O brave and valorous Cavaliers, ought not you herein to second the good intentions of our great King, and banish such infamies, not onely from France, but even from the memory of men? If you desire to see how you are to bear your self in war, I will not go about to seek out a Saint Martin for you: Behold a man, whose life not long since hath been published, to serve as a model for the Nobili∣ty: we yet touch him as it were with a finger; for he died under the reign of Francis the First, having served three Kings in their Armies the space of two and thirty years. It is the valiant Terrail, other∣wise called Chevalier Bayard, born in Daulphine. I willingly make use of his example, both because one of our most warlick Kings, the son of Francis the First, would needs be knighted by his hand, to wit∣ness the honour he bare to his valour, as also, for that I see therein many noble passages, which taste of the virtue of a true French souldier. He was a coura∣gious * 2.93 Captain, of excellent direction, valiant, and magnanimous, of whom was said, that he had the assault of a wild bull, the defence of the bore, and flight of the wolf. I set aside his warlick deeds, I take some of his virtues, which I here will make use of. This Royal courage had no other aim in arms, but the glory of God, the service of his Prince, the honour of his profession: whereof we have an am∣ple testimony in a short Elogie, which his Secretary made upon him, saying, That after these two and thirtie years service, be died almost as poor as he was born. Much is spoken herein, and I think Bayard more glorious under this title, than if he had born the Dutchy of Milan on his back. He had the true piety of a good souldier: For every morning he pray∣ed to God most devoutly, and would not permit any man should enter into his Chamber during the time of his devotions: he was so obedient to those who commanded in the Army, that he never refu∣sed any Commission imposed upon him. Yea, well fore-seeing that the last charge enjoyned him by the Admiral Bonnivet was most dangerous, and as it were impossible, yet he went thither, sacrificing his life to the commandments of the Lieutenant of his Prince, that he might not digress from his ordinary custom. There was he slain by the most generous manner of death that might happen to any Captain of his quality. He was a Lion in arms, who with a choice company of men, selected by him, and trained to this profession, wrought such admirable effects, that there was not any battel won, of which he was not ever the prin∣cipal cause. Never was any man more terrible to an enemy in the conflict; but out of it, it was said, he was one of the most affable and courteous men of the earth. He was so ill a flatterer of Great men, that to gain a Kingdom he would not be drawn to speak any thing but reason. His practice was to honour the virtuous, speak little of the vicious, less also of his own deeds of arms, never to swear, do favours to all who required, as willingly as if him∣self were to receive the benefit, to give secret alms according to his ability, in such sort, that it is writ∣ten, that he, besides his other acts of piety, marri∣ed at the least a hundred young mayds. Behold of

what elements his soul was inwardly composed.

As for the manner of his carriage in the war, he * 2.94 as little cared for money as the dirt of the earth, and desired not to have any but to give. Witness an act of great liberality, which is related of him. He by fair law of arms, took a Spanish Treasurer, who car∣ried with him fifteen thousand Ducats; one of his Captains, named Tardieu, swore, enraged with chol∣ler, that he would have part of the booty, because he was in the expedition. This good Captain smiling, said to him: It is true, you were of the enterprize, but are not to share in the booty; and were it so, you are under my charge, I therefore will give what I think good. This man entered into more violent fury, and went to complain to the General, who having well considered the business, adjudged it wholly to Bay∣ard. He caused his Ducats to be carried to a place of safety, and commanded them to be spred on a table, in presence of all his people, saying to them: Compa∣nions, what think you? Do you not here behold fine junk∣ets? Poor Tardieu, who had been put by his preten∣sions by express sentence of his Captains, looked on this money with a jealous eye, and said: If be had the half of it, he would all his life be an honest man. Doth that depend on this? saith this brave spirit? Hold, I wil∣lingly give that, which you by force could never obtain, and so caused at the same instant seven thousand five hundred Ducats to be told out to him. The other, who in the beginning thought it was but a meer mockery, when he saw it to be in good earnest, and himself in possession of that he desired, he cast himself on both his knees at the feet of Bayard, having abun∣dant tears of joy in his eyes, and cried out: Alas my Master, my friend, you have surpassed the liberality of Alexander, how shall I ever be able to acknowledge the benefit, which I at this time do receive at your hands? Hold your peace (said this incomparable man) if I had power I would do much more: and thereupon causing all the souldiers of the Garrison to be called, he di∣stributed the rest of the Ducats, not keeping one sole denier for his own use,

I ask of you whether this were not a heart of pearl, wherein there could not one least blemish of avarice be found? Yea, also when he passed through the Countrey, even in a land of conquest, he paid his expence.

And one saying unto him, Sir, This money is lost: for at your departure from hence, they will set this place on fire. He answered, Sirs, I do what I ought, God hath not put me into the world, to live by rapine.

Pursuing this course, he did an act at the taking of * 2.95 Bressia, a Citie of Italie, for ever memorable, which I will here deduce as it were in the same terms as it is couched in his History. Which is, that being set in the head of the Perdues, he first entered and passed the rampire, where he was grievously hurt in the top of his thigh with the thrust of a pike, so that the iron stuck in the wound: he nothing terrified, said to Captain Molard: I am slain, but it is no matter, let your men march confidently, the Town is won. Hereupon two souldiers bare him out of the throng, and seeing the wound streamed forth much bloud, they pulled off their shirts, and rent them, to bind up his thigh; then in the first house they hit upon, they took a little door off the hindges, and laid their poor Captain up∣on it, to bear him the more easily. From thence they went directly to a great house, which they supposed to be very convenient for his accommodation. It belonged to an honest Gentleman, who was retired into a Monasterie to avoid the fury of souldiers: For the saccadge of this Citie was so dreadfull, that there were reckoned, as well of Venetians who de∣fended it, as Burgesses, to the number of twenty thousand slain. The Ladie stayed in this house with two fair daughters, who had hidden themselves in a barn under hay. As they knocked at the gate, the mother arming her self with resolution, openeth it, and beholdeth a Captain all bloudy, born upon this plank, who presently set Guards about his lodging, and demanded a place to retire unto. The Ladie leadeth him into the fairest chamber, where she cast her self at his feet, and said: Sir, I offer this house un∣to you, and all within it, for I well know it is yours by the law of arms. I onely beg of you, you will be pleased to save me, and mine honour, as also of two poor maids ready to marry, which my husband and I have bad be∣tween us. The Captain answered: Madame, I do not know whether I shall escape this wound or no; but I faith∣fully promise you whilest I live, there shall be no injury done to you nor your daughters, no more than to mine own person. Onely keep them in your chamber, and let them not be seen: Send for your husband, and assure your self you have a guest, who will do you all courtesie possible. The Ladie much comforted to hear him speak in that manner, obeyed, and employed all her care to give him good entertainment. She presently perceived she had lodged an honest man, when she saw the Duke of Namures, the brave Gaston de Foix, General of the Army, come daily to visit him, and that these men in a Citie of conquest, spake of paying for all they had taken. The good hostess waited on him, as on an Angel of Heaven, so much honour and virtue saw she to shine in him. When he was cured, and that he spake of dislodging, to be present at the battel of Ravenna, where his General passionately de∣sired him, the Ladie, who accounted her self as his pri∣soner, with her husband and children, considering if her guest would rigorously use her, he might draw ten or twelve thousand crowns from her, resolved to give him a present, and coming into his chamber with a servant of hers, who carried a little steel box, she presently threw her self at his feet, but he readily raised her up again, not suffering she should speak one word, till she was seated by him: at which time she made this speech, well observed by the Se∣cretary of Bayard:

SIR, The favour which God hath afforded me in the taking of this Citie, by sending you into this house, which is wholly yours, hath not been less, than the preservation of the life of my husband, mine own, and that of my daughters, with their honour, which they ought to esteem more precious than life. Besides, your people have lived with such temper here in my house, that be∣ing not able to complain of any injurie, I have cause for ever to commend their modestie. Sir, I am not so ignorant of the condition, whereunto the misery of war hath redu∣ced us, as not very well to see, that my husband, my self, and children, are your prisoners, and that all the goods in the house are at your discretion, to be disposed of to your liking. But knowing the nobleness of your heart, which is incomparable, I am come most humbly to beseech you, to take pitie on your poor captives, and to use us according to your accustomed liberalitie. Behold a poor present which we offer, intreating it may be acceptable. In speaking this, she took the box out of the hands of her servant, and opened it before the good Captain, who saw it to be full of fair Duckets, at which he smiled, replying: Madame, how many Duckets are there in this box? The poor woman, who thought this smile proceeded from some discontentment, answer∣ed: There are in it but two thousand five hundred; but if you be not satisfied, we will find more. Nay Madame, replied the Captain, I can well assure you, that should you give me a hundred thousand crowns, you could not do me so much good, as you have done in the courteous en∣tertainment I have here received. In what place soe∣ver I shall remain, while God gives me life, you shall have a Gentleman ready at your command. As for your Duckets, I will none, I render you thanks, take them up again. I have ever more esteemed peo∣ple of honour than crowns, and think not, but I go as

well satisfied from you, as if this Citie were at your dis∣position, and you thereof have made me a present.

She again prostrateth her self on her knees, and the Captain lifting her up, answered: No Sir, I should think my self for ever the most unhappy woman of the world, if you accept not this present, which is nothing in comparison of the infinite obligations I ow to your worth. Well, saith he, since you give it with so good a will, I ac∣cept it for your sake; but cause your daughters to come hither, for I will bid them fare well. These good crea∣tures had charitably assisted him, during the time of his infirmity, in the presence of their mother, many times touching the lute, whereon they played very well, for his recreation. They fell at his feet, and the eldest made a short speech in her mother language, to thank him for the preservation of their honour. The Captain heard it as it were weeping, for the sweetness and humility he therein observed, and then said: La∣dies, you do that which I ought to do, which is to give you thanks for the many good helps you have afforded me, for which I find my self infinitely obliged. You know men of my profession are not readily furnished with handsom tokens, to present fair maidens withal: But behold, your good Ladie mother hath given me two thousand five hundred Duckets; take each of you a thou∣sand, as my gift; for so I am resolved it shall be. Then turning to his Hostess: Madame, saith he, I will take these five hundred to my self, to distribute them among poor religious women, who have been ransacked; and I recommend the charge thereof to you; for you better than any other understand where there is necessity. At this time, the Ladie touched to the quick with so great a piety, spake these words, couched in the History in ancient language: O flower of Chivalrie, to whom no other may be compared! our blessed Saviour and Re∣deemer Jesus Christ, who for sinners suffered death and passion, both here in this world, and in the other, reward you. The Gentleman of the house, who at that time heard the courtesie of his guest, came to thank him with bended knee, making offer of his person and his whole estate. The young Gentlewomen, who were skilfull at the needle, made him a present of two brace∣lets, woven with threed of gold and silver; and a purse of crimson sattyn, very richly wrought. He very graciously receiving them, Behold, saith he, I have more than ten thousand crowns: and instantly he put the bracelets on his arms, and the purse in his pocket, as∣suring them whilest these gifts lasted, he would wear them for their sakes. Thereupon he mounted on hors∣back, accompanied with his true friend, the Lord D'Aubigny, and about two or three thousand men; the Lady of the house, the daughters, and the whole fami∣ly, as bitterly deploring his departure, as if they should have been put to the sword. I demād of you, if the stars were to descend from heavē, whether they might find more love and respect? Where be these silly fencers, who are as commets of fire and bloud, to bear mur∣der, pestilence, and poison into houses, who make the pillars of buildings to tremble with the force of blas∣phemies, who load whole families with injuries, wounds, and scars, who pill and ravage like Harpies, fed with humane bloud? Should they do nothing else all their life, but heap up mountains of gold and sil∣ver, they could not arrive to the least part of the con∣tentment which this good Captain enjoyed, who sought no other recompence from his great actions, but the satisfaction of his conscience, and the glory to have done well. Thus is it, O Noblemen, that hearts are gained, to make a crown of immortality: Thus is Heaven obliged, and earth tributary to virtues.

The seventh SECTION. Against sensual love and impuritie.

I May well say, that among all the qualities of a Nobleman, there is not any hath a sweeter odour than temperance, which represseth the voluptuous pleasures of the body. Let no man flatter you in the passion of love, as if it were a prime virtue of your profession. Believe me, it is the worm which gnaw∣eth all great actions, the moth which eateth all the vi∣gour of spirit, the stain which defileth al, the fairest or∣naments of life, the labyrinth which hindereth all ge∣nerous designs, the rock which wracketh all vessels, the gulf which devoureth bodies and souls.

The wise Secretaries of nature have observed, that * 2.96 all creatures which have the breath of fire, have the tayl of a Dragon. Nor likewise do we ever see car∣nal love vehemently enflamed, but that it produceth some serpentine, hydeous, and disasterous issue. I af∣firm, fire penetrateth into the marrow of the total nature of the Universe, but hath effects very differ∣ent, according to the subjects wherein it resideth. It otherwise scorcheth in Heaven, otherwise in hell, otherwise in the bodies of beasts, otherwise in sulphur and gun-powder, and such like bodies able to receive its action. It filleth the stars in Heaven with a flame full of lustre and honour: It tormenteth the damn∣ed in hell, it entertaineth the life of creatures, it wa∣steth all bodies drie or oily, to reduce them either in∣to ashes or smoak. Take my comparison, and say with me, there are lovers who burn as Heaven, others as hell, others as bodies well composed, others as oyl and wood.

The first lovers have the ardours of Heaven, who entertain chaste and spiritual love for things Divine. These are pleasures, which the jealous eye cannot es∣pie, the slanderous tongue cannot bite, bad report is not accustomed to defame; which equals have no cause to envie, nor can Tyrants, armed with horrour of so many torments, find the means how to take it from Martyrs. When we love God, we find him every where, we speak to him every where, we serve him every where, and every where we feel the services done to him, have their recompence. We talk to him as well in the whales belly as in the flaming furnace; witness Jonas and the three children, who found Chappels wholly built in the entrails of fishes and flames; because the love of God, the wisest architect of the world, had framed such for them.

The second lovers burn as hell, who live perpetu∣ally in stinking, wicked, and infamous concupiscen∣ces, in dark, extraordinary, and desperate passions, who are in sensuality as in an abyss, fettered with a long chain of servitude, never having any part of the air, or light of the children of God.

The third are as bodies mixed, who entertain con∣jugal, honest, and moderate amities; such as are found in good marriages, which are used according to God, in all honour and sanctity.

Those of the fourth order, enkindle one another, as so many little bodies that daily minister fuel to the fire, wasting spirit, flesh, and means, in certain frivo∣lous and giddly loves, which after much use, make men of vapour, ashes, and smoak. You now adays shal find, that affections purely conjugal are very rare, and celestial loves much more; but every where there are many men, who burn like hell or pitch.

There are four sorts of love, which have been great * 2.97 enemies, and still are, to the reputation of a good soul∣dier: the one is the love of sensuality, the other of fantasie, the third of servitude, and the fourth of fury. On what side soever you turn your face, as∣sure your self, Sir, you shall find nothing beautifull in this ugly beast.

Love of sensuality, which subsisteth onely in vo∣luptousness * 2.98 of body, is a bruitish, base, and wander∣ing love, which is ever employed to spie out and trade for flesh, having no other design, but to sati∣ate an unworthy concupiscence, more unsatisfied than fire, the abyss, and hell. If nature had created you some Mustapha to grow fat in a Seraglio, & that you

had never heard speech of good or honour, it were tollerable: but to see a brave souldier, well born and bred up, to pass his life in laying snares for chastity, to search out of both sexes such as make traffick of the sins of others, to train up a wicked servant to be the messenger of your passions, to promise, swear, for∣swear, to seduce poor forsaken maids, to cast them from necessity into disgrace, and from disgrace into despair, how can it be but abominable.

Think you the earth is made to be replenished with your sins, and charities to be instituted to support your crimes? It is idleness that serves as a store∣house for your passions, and it is your remisness which doth not so much as vouchsafe to seek out a remedy. If you be resolved to lead such a life, give up your sword, for you dishonour it. It is no reason that it alone should retain the virginity, which all your other members have lost. You cannot well serve two mistresses, Venus and Bellona, since they are so differ∣ent. And go not about to propose to your self that Sampson, David, and Caesar, made them well accord together: believe me, when they came to be lasci∣vious they ceased to be valiant.

It was neither with the looking-glass nor comb of Dalila, that Sampson slew a thousand Philistines, but with the jaw-bone of an Ass. Whilest he preserved himself from women, he was a sun, and a thunder-blot; a sun to enlighten his Nation, a thunder-bolt to destroy the Philistines. So soon as a woman had shaved him, he of a sun became a coal, of a thunder-bolt a vapour, and of a man a lame jade, who from the field of battel, was sent to mill, no lon∣ger having eyes, but to deplore the disaster of his loves with tears of bloud. When David in the list overthrew the Giant, he had not then received the wound from Bath-sheba's eye. But after he had seen her at the fountain, his eyes ceased not to cast forth flouds, and love dried up all his Laurels, that they had very much ado to wax green again in the water of so many tears. Hold it also for undoubted, that Cae∣sar being in the snows of the Gauls, thought not of committing adulteries at Rome; the business or war took from him all the taste of love, and never did he submit to the imaginations of a beast, till he retained no more designs worthy of a man. Volup∣tuousness never acteth any thing great, but hath de∣stroyed all that is great. And when God is pleased to overthrow Empires, he chooseth souldiers who have chaste hands, to chastise the effeminate. So Ar∣baces vanquisheth Sardanapalus: So Alexander, who would not look upon Queens, his prisoners, but with an eye of chastity, defeated the Persians, bond-slaves to luxury: So the Gothes gained the Empire of Rome, as saith Salvianus, God being willing to purge the earth, which the Romans had defiled, by the arms of a Nation more chaste than themselves, it being rea∣sonable, that those should enjoy their goods, who would have no share in their vices.

The love of fantasie is more sottish than malicious * 2.99 or sordid. There be Cavaliers, who perswade them∣selves they are the bravest men of their Age, and that all Ladies, who sometimes love vapour where it is not be loved, must of necessity have love in store for them. They enter into so great vanities, as they cast their affections upon none but Princesses, or eminent beauties, esteeming the rest of the world too base for the entertainment of their affections. They resemble those birds of Aegypt, who will not build their nests but upon Palms; nor will they love but in a high place. Of this quality were Endimion and the Emperour Caligula, who in the end dista∣sting all the women in the world, transferred the ambition of their loves above the sphere of fire, sup∣posing they were hardy enough to take the Moon in marriage. One would not believe the frenzie of this passion, if we had not by experience seen men of most base extraction, with much content to en∣tertain their thoughts upon the loves of the Queens of Antioch and Sicilie, transporting themselves with joy, whensoever it was told them they were entered far into their gracious favours. This is it which ma∣keth me say, that we in two things know the great∣ness of our soul, to wit, that it can frame a world to its knowledge, as God hath created one in nature; and can lodge the thoughts in so high a place, that the poorest begger of the world can entertain affe∣ction for the most emiment person of the earth. The rich, who do as it were forbid the use of elements, cannot deny love, but it is a gross infirmity to love out of the sphere of your power, that which you can no more enjoy than the Moon in the Heavens. If we will love aloft, let us love him who hath made us. When once we have passed far into his heart, we shall find all the greatness of the world much lower than our feet.

If you, my souldier, entertain these fantastick loves, I from this present will send you to the Strophad Islands, with those who search for the hand of glo∣ry, the Philosophers stone, and quadratura circuli, and who oft-times distil the money out of their pur∣ses, with that little brain which is left them, through the same limbeck.

I fear you rather have the love of servitude, and * 2.100 make a Goddess of a piece of flesh, to which it is your glory to sacrifice your liberty, being so blind, as to kiss the fetters of your slavery, instead of break∣ing them. Verily it is a pittifull thing to see a man burn in ice, and congeal in fire, having the colour wan, the visage meagre, the eyes hollow, the cheeks sunk, the spirit giddy, the reason uncollected, and the heart wholly feaverish, for the love of a creature who flouteth him. To see a man who walketh in his solitude, and creepeth like a spectre, not knowing whether he be of the number of the living or dead, who speaketh, writeth, who prieth, who hopeth, who feareth, laugheth, sigheth, waxeth pale, blusheth, de∣sireth, detesteth, dieth, riseth again, sinketh into an abyss, and then toucheth Heaven with a finger, who playeth a Comedy of a dozen Personages in one hour, and passeth through more metamorphoses in a day, than Ovid in three years.

Oh what a miserable thing is it, saith the golden mouth of Constantinople, to seek to be rosted in ashes, and so desperately love a beauty, which is onely fair in the fantasie of a feaverish brain, and of which in a short time the most licorous worms would scorn to make their dung-hill! O my souldier, let such a frenzie never enter into your heart; you were better serve a Turk or an Arabian, than such a love. It is the punais-worm, which bites while she liveth, and after death maketh her infection to be felt. Why go you about to idolatrize a woman? Have you not slavery enough at home, but you must needs seek it abroad? Withdraw your self in good time from this capti∣vity, gain the haven before the storm surprize you; for if you once be engaged, there is neither arm nor oar can serve to bring you back again. Is it not a comely thing, think you, to behold a souldier, who hath a sword by his side, able to hew monsters, to seek to play the cocks-comb in quest of a wily wench, that exerciseth the most infamous tyranny over him that ever was heard of? It is said Omphale took the Dia∣dem from a King named Hercules, and set her slippers on his head: That Dionysius the Tyrant wrote the ex∣peditions of his Kingdom with his hand, and that Mirrha cancelled or signed them at her pleasure: That King Athanaricus tied the strings of Pincia's shoes: That Themistocles caused himself to be pur∣ged and let bloud with his captive Mistress. He that should see all the follies of the entranced lo∣vers, might observe an infinite number of matters much more strange.

In serving a scornfull piece, who makes you die a thousand times a day, you can oft-times hope for no other thing but ever to serve, and if you come to the end of your pretensions, brag not so much; you perhaps have nothing, but that which servants, or persons more unworthy, have obtained before you. This well deserveth indeed to betray your ho∣nour, and to commit such silly actions; but if you open your eyes to see the end of this goodly stage-play, you shall do as those, who caused themselves to be shaved when they escaped a ship-wrack: you would not let so much as a hair remain upon that young head, which suffered it self to run at liberty af∣ter such sottish loves.

If you plunge your self further into this passion, you * 2.101 shall find fury, which tieth cords, which mingleth poisons, which sharpeneth swords, which openeth black caverns, which erecteth gibbets, which kindleth coals, which prepareth racks, which produceth all that may discover the proceedings of an engaged love, and which maketh an arrow of all crimes, to hit the mark it aimed at.

Were I in your place, I would tear from my heart the sleightest cogitations which occur by this folly, as cankers, vermine, and serpents; and I would ride on post, if it were possible, beyond the elements, with purpose to avoid such encounters. All the bravest souldiers have made boast of chastity. It was the tro∣phey of Cyrus, to whom God for this cause gave all the treasures of Asia: It was the triumph of Alex∣ander, who in recompence had the conquest of the Persians: and the Emperour Julian, who made pro∣fession * 2.102 to imitate him, although he had renounced all the Sacraments, would never forsake chastity, which he had learned amongst Christians: saying, This vir∣tue made beautifull lives, as Painters fair faces. But not to search any further into the ruins of antiquity, look what your Bayard did upon this point: behold an ad∣mirable passage, which I will relate in the same words as it is expressed in his history.

They had caused a young maid to be conveyed in∣to * 2.103 his chamber, which was one of the fairest crea∣tures of the world, and indeed she was endowed with an Angelical grace, but that her eyes were swoln with extremity of tears. When the Captain saw her, How now, fair maid, saith he unto her, what say you? Why come you hither? The poor creature fell on her knees, and said: Alas Sir, my mother hath com∣manded me I should do what you would have me; yet I am a virgin, and never had I any disposition to do ill, were it not necessitie enforced me thereunto; for my mo∣ther and my self are so poor, that we perish for hunger: and I wish to God I were dead, before I commit this act, or at least that I were not in the number of unhappy maids. The noble Lord touched to the quick with the words of this creature, answered her, having tears in his eyes: Verily, pretty soul, I will not be so wicked, as to take that from you, which you so faithfully have kept for God. Thereupon he caused her to beveiled, covering her with a mantle, lest she might be known, he lighted a torch, and not recommending her to any other, conducted her himself, to rest in the house of his kinswoman. The next day he sent for the mo∣ther, and said to her: Are not you a wicked woman to betray the honour of your daughter, which ought to be more dear unto you than life? You deserve a punish∣ment so much the more rigorous, as that I understand you are a Ladie: for in doing this, you wrong Nobi∣litie. The poor woman wholly confounded, knew not what else to answer, but that they were as poor as might be. Is there no man, saith he, who requires her in marriage? Yes truly, saith she, an honest man, a neigh∣bour of mine, but he demandeth six hundred florens, and I am not worth the one half of it.

Then the brave Bayard drew out his purse, and said, Hold, here are two hundred crowns, which are of more value than six hundred florens of this Countrey to marry your daughter withal. I adde also thereunto a hundred more to cloth her, and a hundred to relieve your poverty; but my will is you dispatch it in three days: all which was accordingly done with an unspeak∣able joy of the mother and daughter, which made them live thenceforth very honourably.

O Nobility, I present not here unto you an Her∣mit, it is a Captain, it is a French souldier, who was composed of no other flesh, bones, nor bloud, than you, while he in the mean time performeth an act of a Religious man the most mortified: he exerciseth the liberality of a King, he equalleth therein, and as it were surmounteth the heroical deeds of the greatest Saints. It is true, that S. Nicolas saved the honour of virgins, contributing thereunto his gold and silver: It is true, that in doing it he generously triumphed over the covetousness of temporal goods: but he ser∣ved not in this action, as a triumph to himself, which is verily the choisest piece of eminent virtues. Behold a Cavalier, who vanquisheth both avarice and love, the two most dangerous rocks of the world. Bay∣ard commandeth his purse in a fortune not the best accommodated, which meriteth not the least ap∣plause; but Bayard commandeth himself in a flouri∣shing age, in a vigorous body, in presence of an object so amiable. I beseech you let us no longer say, that chastity is onely found in Cloysters, it is every where, where the fear of God is, where generosity or real virtue is. What can so many wretches answer to this, who fill the world with sins, the Nobility with disgraces, their bodies with diseases, their name with infamy, and load so many poor abused creatures with miseries and despair? What can so many spruce Gallants answer, who brave it through the streets, and make ostents in borrowed feathers, and in habits, standing indebted to the Mercer for the stuff, and to the poor Taylor for the fashion, paying neither the one nor other? True jack-daws of Esope, who de∣serve that all other birds should assemble to pull their plumes off, which they have stoln to entertain their vanity. What will here so many gluttons and game∣sters answer, who eat and rent up the entrails of men by their bloudy riots? Is it possible, that this souldier should have four hundred crowns, which was then a huge sum, to give in one onely alms, and those who in bravery talk of nothing else but pisto∣lets, the belly, and game, have not a denier to throw to a poor body?

I will also shew ••ou an essential virtue of your pro∣fession, which is a certain mixture of honesty, justice, and loyalty due to the King, the Weal-publick, your conscience, even towards your enemies themselves, in the example of this admirable man, justly called The Captain without fault.

The eighth SECTION. Against the perfidiousness of interests.

THere is given to you for the accomplishment of these goodly precepts, a great virtue of the time, which is to betray faith, Altars, and all that which is precious in nature, or magnificent in Religion, to advance your fortune, without any fear at all to trample on the throats of your most faith∣full friends, that you may go directly to the Temple of Honour, or the riches of the world. Poor Jani∣sary, think you that to be the shortest way? Have you never learned, that if you take fidelity out of the world, you pull down the principal Altar of the Temple, the sanctity of humane hearts, the com∣merce of men; the repose of life, the knot and band of all felicities? Perjury, saith an Oracle, hath a son

without name, feet, or hands, and who wander∣eth * 2.104 up and down throughout the world, and crush∣eth in pieces the heads of the perfidious, even to the fourth generation. You in the subsequent discourses shall behold the goodly successes of such proceed∣ings: I for this present tell you, to strengthen these precepts, that were faith and integritie banished from the rest of the world, they might be found in the heart of a French souldier.

Our excellent Bayard, from whom I more affect still to derive this model, than from any other, made it well appear in an affair, where the life of the most eminent man of the Church was interessed. He was at that time in Italie, sent by the King to assist the Duke of Ferrara against the armie of Pope Juli∣us, then much opposite to France, although so many other worthy Popes heartily loved our Nation. See the cause, why he sent to the Duke one Mounsieur Augustine Gerlo, a Gentleman of Milan, a traitour, and factious to perswade him to forsake the French alliance with intention to destroy them, and that in recompence he would give him his neece in marri∣age, and make him Captain General of the Church. This Prince would not in any wise understand him, but he handled the matter so by his policie and ad∣vantagious promises, that he gained this Augustine, who gave him his hand, that he in few days would destroy the Pope, by the help of a mischievous mor∣sel, which he could easily give him. The Duke of Ferrara understanding these propositions, went to find out the noble Bayard in his lodging, and made a long discourse to him of the evil disposition of Pope Julius, and the enterprises he had, both on his life, and of the Frenchmen, of purpose to enkindle him for revenge. Then he pursued his opportunitie, and made overture to him of the treason of this wicked Gerlo. Bayard beheld him, and said, How Sir? I could never have imagined that a Prince so generous as you, would consent to such a mischief: and had you done it, I swear by my soul, before night I would have given the Pope notice of it. How? answered the Duke, he would have done as much either to you or me. It is no matter, replieth Bayard, this treacherie displeaseth me. The Duke shrugged up his shoulders, and spitting on the ground, Mounsieur Bayard, saith he, I would I had kil∣led all mine enemies in this sort: but since you dislike it, the matter shall rest, and you and I both may have cause to repent it. We shall not if it please God, replyeth the good souldier; but I pray you put this gallant into my hands, that would do this goodly piece of service; and if I do not cause him to be hanged in an hour, let me sup∣ply his place. The other excused it, saying, he had gi∣ven him assurance of his person.

Behold you not a brave spirit? See you not a man of a Royal conscience, and of an honestie in all things like to it self? Where are these pettie spirits of the abyss, more black than specters and infernal furies, who have neither loyaltie for their Prince nor Common-wealth, but as it may concern their own interests, who swallow treasons as big as cammels, to gain a flie? They would make truth it self to lie, were not their issues ever tragical, abominable, and hideous.

The ninth SECTION. Short and notable Instructions.

MY souldier, follow the precepes, which the great S. Augustine gave to Captain Boniface. * 2.105 Observe faith and virtue in Arms, which never will be prosperous on earth, if they be not for∣tified with blessings from Heaven. Beg of God, with David, to deliver you from your necessities, which are your passions: he doth nothing to overcome vi∣sible enemies, that have power over bodies, who sur∣mounteth not the invisible, bandied against the health of our souls. Make use of the world, as a thing bor∣rowed: do good with its goods, and become not bad. They are goods, since they come from God, who extendeth his power over all things both cele∣stial and temporal. They are goods, since God gives them to good men; but they are not also great goods, since he affords them to the wicked. He takes them away from the virtuous, to trie their virtue, and from the perverse, to chastise their crimes. It is true, strength, health, victorie, honour, wealth, are indifferently the portion of all men; but conquest over passions, virtues, salvation of soul, immortalitie of bodie, glorie, honour, beatitude, are the proper inheritance of Saints. Love these goods, desire them, seek them with all your endeavour, do alms-deeds to get them, fast as much as your forces will permit: all here below passeth away but good works.

Think when you go to the wars, that the strength of your bodie is a gift of God, & that it is not fit to arm against your sovereign Masters proper benefits. Keep promise even with your enemies, make peace with all the world voluntarily, and war for necessity to acquire the good of peace. Be peacefull even in Arms, for such men are called the children of God. If it be necessarie to kill an enemie in fight, let mercy be always exercised in the latter end of the combat, principally, when there is no further fear of rebelli∣on. Adorn your manners with conjugal chastitie, sobrietie, and modestie. It is a ridiculous thing to conquer men, and be vanquished by vices; to escape the sword, and be overthrown by wine. If you want means, seek it not on earth by wicked practices, but secure rather in Heaven that little you have, by the exercise of good works.

Flee these rocks of Nobilitie, which we have hi∣therto spoken against, and above all bridle presumpti∣on, choller, the tongue, and sensuallitie.

They are slaves, who cannot keep in the mean, between servitude and Empire, where either chains must be had to master them, or a Throne erected to honour them. Pesumption, if you afford it enter∣ance, will make you of a man a baloon filled with wind, a scare-crow of honour, a temerarious thing void of courage, an undertaker without successe, a phantastick without shame, which in the end shall become burdensome to it self, and odious to all the world. Choller and folly are two sisters, which have in all things the same qualities; or if there be any dif∣ference, it is, that the one with more furie maketh havock in an instant, and the other produceth her effects with more leisure and cheerfulness: whilest you are subject to this passion, no man can confide in you in matter of judgement, no more than to wea∣ther-cocks in the point of stabilitie: you will have all other vices in-seed, and perpetually live in the sorrow of time past, disturbance of the present, and uncertaintie of the future. As for the tongue, it is that which containeth all the good or evil of man: It is the needle of the great dial of the soul, that must shew all the hours. It is the truche-man of our thoughts, the image of our actions, the inter∣preter of our wills, and the principal key of conver∣sation. He that will now adays live in the world, saith the famous S. Nazianzen, must have a veil over his * 2.106 eys, a key on his ear, a compass on his lips. A veil over his eyes, not to see, or in seeing to dissemble many things; a key on his ears, to shut them up against so many follies and ordures, which proceed from bad mouthes: and a compass on the lips, to mea∣sure and square out all his words with discretion. So many secrets unnecessarily discovered, so ma∣ny infamous slanders, so many inconsiderate tales, so many frivolous promises, so many impudent lyes

such perjuries and execrable blasphemies, so many disasters which oft happen for a sleight speech, daily teach us, that words have no handles to hold them by, and better it is to trip with the foot than the tongue.

Sensualitie, if you powerfully resist it not from the first reflections which reason may present, will make you a thing of nothing. The three spirits, wine, love, and game, will fetter you with a prodigious slavery. You will become a living sepulchre, a tomb of sur∣phets and slaughters, a gulf of calumnies, a meer hob∣goblin without repose, which shall continually han∣dle cards and dice, to bereave you of your purse and understanding, so to make a spoil of your goods, a frencie of your reason, and a perpetual feaver of your life.

Your condition ought not to make you pretend power over men, if you seasonably enterprise it not over your own passions. Beware how you enter in∣to the list among so many noble spirits, there to dis∣cover your weaknesse, and to adde nothing to the lustre of the honour of so many worthy Ancestours, but to render your own crimes the more remarkable. Shew your self herein a reasonable man, and endea∣vour that all your actions may be as lines, which grow from the centre of wisdome, to be produced with all felicitie. Remember things past, rectifie the present, foresee those to come. Above all, learn to set a true estimation upon every thing in the world, and suffer not your self to be surprised by the illusi∣ons of so many objects, which when they have charmed the eyes, and overthrown reason, leave no∣thing behind them, but sorrow to have done ill, and impotencie of doing well.

In conversation take the measure of your self, and the like of those with whom you deal, to husband and accommodate your self reasonably to all the world; yielding to every one the respect which his merit seems to require. The exercise of devotion will not hinder you from the endeavour how to become an able man in your profession, from being honest, civil, discreet, affable, liberal, obliging, stout, cou∣ragious, patient, which are the principal quali∣ties of a Courtier.

It is not desired, that to be devout, you should have a spirit drowzie, sluggish, overwhelmed, not that through overmuch simplicitie you make profu∣sion of your self, in an Age, where bountie seemeth to be the prey of insolent spirits. Wisdom will teach you neither to intrude nor pour out your self; to dissemble through virtue that which ought to be concealed; to adapt your self to companies and af∣fairs, to believe nothing lightly, nor to promise nor decide any thing without consideration; to persevere in certain things not ill, because you have begun them; not to be harsh, nor too much complying, since the one tasteth of brutishness, the other inclines to flatterie. To propose to your self good and evil, which may arise from an affair, to moderate the one, and tollerate the other. Above all, honour the King next after God, as the source of all greatness, and the fountain of the most noble lights, which reflect on Nobilitie. Honour him with profound respect, as the lively Image of God. Love him sin∣cerely, serve him with all fidelitie. If you be em∣ployed in affairs and governments, endeavour to persist therein with conscience and honour, which are the two mansions of a great soul. If you have merit without employment and recompence, say not therefore that all is lost. It is a good business to be well at rest, to manure your spirit, to enable your self with reading and peaceable conversion, to go∣vern your house. Learn nothing, but what you ought to know. Search that onely which you may profitably find; desire nothing, but what you may honourably wish for. And be not conceited to run after a spectre of imaginarie favour, nor to mount to a place, where you cannot stay without fear, nor fall without ruin.

So many great Monarchs, so many Princes, Lords, and valorous men, who are come from Courts and the profession of arms, to enter into the Temple of pietie, assure us, this life is capable of Saints, and that no man ought to despair of virtue, but he who re∣nounceth it. If the brevitie of this Treatise would permit, I would willingly set before you, a David, a Josias, an Ezechias, a Charlemaign, a S. Lewis, a Her∣mingildes, a Henry, a Stephen, a Casimire, a Godfrey of Bovillon, a Wenceslaus, an Edward, an Elzear, an A∣mideus: I would make you see flourishing Squa∣drons of Martyrs, drawn from warfare, amongst which you would admire a Maurice, an Exuperius, a Sebastian, a Marius, a Mennas, an Olympiades, a Meli∣ton, a Leontius, a Maximus, a Julian, an Abdon, a Sen∣nen, a Valens, a Priscus, a Marcellus, a Marcellinus, a Severinus, a Philoromus, a Philoctemon, and so many such like. Finally, I would shew in the latter Ages men worthy of all honour, eminent in arms, and enobled with singular pietie; but I now content my self to draw from Eusebius, Theodoret, Nicephorus, Zozimus, Socrates, Sozomenus, Cedrenus, and above all Cardinal Baronius, the life of Great Constantine, who hath been the very prime man amongst Christi∣an princes, and hath witnessed, especially after his Baptism, a masculine pietie, and a great example of sanctitie.

[illustration]

IMP. CAES. FLAVIVS CONSTAN AVG.

CONSTANTINE.

The first SECTION. The Providence of God over Constantine.

I Will shew to Christian Nobilitie its source in the life of the prime Gentle∣man of Christianitie. If we respect an∣tiquitie, greatness, and dignitie, we shall not find a Prince either more ancient∣ly noble than he, who first of all among Emperours deserved the title of Christian, or more truly great than he, who so happily engraffed the empire of the universe on the tree of the Cross; or more justly ho∣nourable than he, who cemented his honour with the bloud of the Lamb. It is the admirable Constan∣tine, * 2.107 who so perfectly allied valour to pietie, Mo∣narchy to humilitie, the wisdom of the Cross to the government of the world, the nails and thorns of the passion, to the Diadem of Kings and delights of the Court, that he hath left matter of meditation for the wise, of profit for Religious, of imitation for Monarchs, and of wonder for those who admire nothing vulgar.

Behold a marvellous Theatre of the providence of * 2.108 God, whereunto I would willingly invite all those spirits, repleat with humane policie, and devested of heavenly Maxims, who are onely great by the great∣ness of their ruin, to see how the breath of God de∣molisheth the Towers of Babel, to raise the walls of Sion, how the subtil are surprized in their subtility, how the science of men becometh blind in its proper lights, how the vigour of the world is slain by its own hands, how stabilitie is overturned by the sup∣ports it chooseth, how the spirit of flesh at unawares contributeth to plant the Gross on the top of Capi∣tols and heads of Monarchs, by the same ways wherewith it promised to over-cloud them with darkness and abysses.

I here produce a Constantine, beed up very young in the Court of Diocletian▪ who had an intention to become a scourge to Christianitie: but God surpri∣zed him therein, as Moses in the Court of Pharaoh, to stop the stream of persecution, to calm the tem∣pests of the time, confound Idols, and raise the Church on the ruins of Gentilism.

Reader, stay a little on the frontispice of this hi∣story, and behold how the Eternal Providence led this young Constantine by the hand, like another Cyrus, to humble the Great-ones of the earth before his face, and to give him hidden treasures; to take * 2.109 from him so many bars and impediments, to open for him so many gates of iron, and to cause so many Kings to turn their faces and afford him their place.

There was at that time twelve heads, which alrea∣die either wore the diadem, or thought themselves capable of it. Diocletian and Maximian held the highest place: They had chosen for Successours Ga∣lerius and Constantius Clorus, father of our Constan∣tine. Galerius had made two other Caesars, Severus and Maximinus. Maxentius, son of Maximian, vio∣lently

drew upon himself the Purple by main force, Lycinius furiously opposed him to gain it. Constantius, Dalmatius, Hannibal, brothers of Constantine by the fathers side, beheld this goodly game, and might well hope to have some part therein, as being legi∣timate sons of Theodora, whom Constantius Clorus had espoused when he rejected S. Helena. Constantine saw himself the furthest off, through the disgrace of his mother, yet did the anointment of God make choice of him, dispersing all the rest by such and so divers ways, as we shall afterward behold, to place him in the throne, onely absolute and independent, and to establish him with a long continuance of years, and a large posterity, had it pursued the way which he traced.

Consider what then was the state of the Church, * 2.110 and view the wonders of the powerful hand of God. Dioclesian had undertaken to raze from the memory of men the name of Christianity; and being an im∣perious man, who would as it were that the Heavens and elements should observe no other course but ac∣cording to his will, and engaged very far in this affair, bare himself with such excess of cruelty, that for about three hundred years, that the Christians were persecuted, there had nothing been like the per∣secution raised under his Empire.

Then was the time, when in full assembly of pub∣lick games, which ordinarily were presented at Rome, the cries of an innumerable multitude were heard, who to flatter the design of the Prince, loud∣ly proclaimed two and twenty times; Christiani tollantur, Auguste, Christiani tollantur, Let the Christi∣ans be taken away, O Emperour, let the Christians be rooted out. Then was the time that dreadful Edicts of persecution were affixed on every place, that the earth was covered with bloud and massacres, and slaughters dispersed as it were in all the parts of the habitable world. Christians were accounted as the dregs of mankind, the scorn of the earth, and object of all cruelties. Some were shut up in caves, not da∣ring to appear in publick, excluded from commerce and society of men, deprived of necessities, which nature would have to be common to all the world, they not being permittted to draw water from wels, or to buy a handful of herbs in the market, unless they presented incense to Idols, purposly fixed in pub∣lick places. Others crept up and down in the deserts, among wild beasts, and sometimes roasted with heat of summer, and sometimes congealed with cold of winter, tearing up with their nails the grass, which they mingled with their tears before they are it. Others were led into Theaters, Amphi∣theaters, and Tribunals of Judges, where old men of four-score and an hundred years of age were seen. Ladies very honourable, most tender mai∣dens and little children, brought into the flaying house there to die, before they knew what it was to live.

All the tortures which the Busiris and Mezenti∣uses knew not, were then invented, and exercised on the bodies of Christians: there was no speech but of racks, combs of iron, moulten lead, boiling caul∣drons; but how to crush men under presses as in the time of vintage; but of shutting bodies up in ves∣sels, armed within with counterpointed nails, and rouling them in this moving prison down the des∣cent of hils; but of annointing them with oyl and honey, and exposing them to wasps, in the boiling ardours of the sun; but of hanging women by the feet in their nakedness, to serve as a spectacle for lustful eyes.

It is not credible such horrours could enter into the hearts of men, without some particular impressi∣on of malign spirits; yet Diocletian thought it was a great point of state, and the true means irrecove∣rably to banish Chistianity.

Behold the cause why he spared none, yea not par∣doning even his neece Susanna, nor his wife Serena, whom he caused to feel the edge of the sword for professing Christianity. It was desired the Martyrs should be numbred, but this was impossible, for when it appeared that one moneth reckoned up seven∣teen thousand, and the rest carried the like propor∣tion, the Christians prepared themselves rather to die than to keep any further record of them. The Em∣perour also caused all holy books to be exactly sought out, to commit them to the flames, thinking it was a singular policy to suppress our Religion: but it is a thing extreamly prodigious, and an invincible argument of the Divinitie of our faith, that not∣withstanding all these endeavours, the Church was like the burning bush, which derived glorie from its proper flames. She increased under the sword of per∣secution, borrowing her ornaments from ignominy, her riches from losses, and life from her tomb. It seemed that every drop of bloud which distilled from the bodies of Martyrs, was a grain of seed to make others spring, which in the end wearied exe∣cutioners, blunted the edge of swords, wore out all the instruments of torture; yet was Diocletian for all this nothing mollified.

A man would wonder, from whence he should * 2.111 conceive such hatred against Christianity: but he that will consider his nature and ordinary proceedings, shall find, that besides the suggestions of Hell, he had inclinations disposed to such cruelties. He was born of very base birth, nursed up in bloud, addicted to the Religion of the Gentiles, so far as to make himself the most superstitious. Whilst he abode in France, as yet a young souldier, a Druid who much in∣termeddled with divination, foretold him he should arive at the Empire, when he had killed the fatal bore. He being of a spirit ambitious and credulous, went purposely a hunting, and ordinarily chased bores, to see if a Crown would spring from their bloud. But that was not it which the evil spirit pre∣tended. There was at the Court a Lord, named Aper, as much as to say the bore, father-in-law to the Em∣perour Numerianus, a man powerful & factious, who after some years possessed himself of the Roman Em∣pire by crime and treachery. Diocletian adventured to kill him, not so much for hatred, as he said, as for desire to fulfil the prophesie of the Druid, and he having thrust his sword through his body, being al∣ready arived to the highest degrees of warfar, and well beloved of the souldiers, was proclaimed Em∣perour. This election made him greatly esteem the false Religion of Pagans, and to take deep roots in his superstition; which was much augmented by the Priests of Idols, mortal enemies of Christians, who perswaded him, the Gods that had given the Em∣pire, demanded of him in requital the extirpation of Christianity, and that his hand was fatal to cut and burn the heads of the Hydra, which his Predeces∣sours could never destroy. This afforded him mat∣ter of vanity, which he very easily apprehended, and it being also softly whispered in his ears, that the Christians had a plot upon his state, and pro∣mised themselves in their prophesies an everlasting Empire, he grew moody even to rage, employing all manner of engines to give counterpoize to their exaltations. Besides, he being ever desirous to appear exactly absolute in his commands, and effectuall in his enterprizes, thought he must never give over persecution, till he had buried the memory of the Christian name; and he voluntarily suffered him∣self so to be flatttered upon this subject, that no man could do a thing more acceptable than to tell him he had extinguished the wicked Sect, and esta∣blished the honour of the Gods immortal. Co∣lumes also and Monuments were dedicated to him with this inscription, SUPERSTITIONE

CHRISTI UBIQUE DELETA, which witnessed, these honours were yielded him, for ha∣ving throughly purged the world from the super∣stition of Christ: but his conscience suggested the contrary, wherewith his spirit, fierce, and cruel, was horribly amazed.

O God! we may well say, there is neither force nor counsel can oppose your designs: your divine Providence, shut up in a cloud, roareth over crow∣ned heads, in a moment overthroweth the moun∣tains of winds, which the Tyrants raised one upon another, and makes the silly wisdom of the greatest politicians, appear like an owl unfeathered, and ashamed at the rays of the mid-day.

Diocletian, who was reputed the sub••i••est, and most * 2.112 couragious man of the world, upon a suddain re∣solved to forsake the Empire, and to hide himself in some grot, like a beast, timorous and wretched. He abandoneth the scepter and purple, to retire him∣self into a little country-house, and with his own hands to manure a garden.

This gave matter enough of surmise to all the * 2.113 world, which could not penetrate his intentions. It was believed by no man, that he did it for humility, for these apprehensions found no place in the heart of a man, who caused himself to be adored, and presented his shoes, embroidered with precious stones, to be kissed by them, who came to salute him. He notwithstanding publickly professed, that he addict∣ed himself to this life through a generous contempt of the vanities of the world, being fully satiated with honours of the earth, and having accomplished all the hopes of the most ambitious; so that he knew what the fortune of the Caesars was, and that Dia∣dems were charged with more thorns than pearls; that there was but one way to contentment of life, which was to despise what others a doted: and pursuing this; he wrote a letter to a friend of his, who perswaded him to re-assume the Empire: If you saw the lettice which grow in my Garden, planted with mine own hands, you would think me too good a Gardener, to be∣come a miserable Emperour.

This man would needs play the Philosopher, which he had never learned, and endeavour to colour this change which he had made, with apparences of virtue; but the most understanding judged it was the disease of Timon, and a melancholy enraged, that had transported him into this retirement. He was extreamly confounded, to have drawn bloud out of all the veins of the earth, to stifle a Religion which flourished in its proper ruins. It seemed unto him, that a million of spirits of the dead, encompassed his bed, to require from him, an account of their lives: he began to apprehend something divine in this Re∣ligion, which he had so out ragiously persecuted▪ and withall to fear a horrible punishment in the revolu∣tion of the affairs of his estate. Behold the cause why despaire, anxiety, and eminent peril, made him voluntarily to despoile himself, as a man ready to be drowned, believing still, that be should have a better penny-worth of the punishments of Heaven, in the person of a Gardener, than in that of an Em∣perour. He anticipated his punishment, serving for executioner to himself, and leaving an Empire, which seemed as it were as fast tyed to him as his soul, to make, being yet alive, an honourable recompence to the truth, which he had so unworthily offended. He persuaded Maximianus, partaker of all his crimes, to be also the companion of his fortune and both of them retired, leaving in their places Galerius and Constantius, the father of our Constantine; igno∣rantly giving the Empire to him, who had already brought forth a son, who should ruin all that which these two had built.

Let us now behold his extraction and qualities, beginning from the eminencies of his birth; and let us find in his time the wicked Hermit in the bottom of his cave.

The second SECTION. The Nobilitie of Constantine.

IT is said▪ when nature made the wild lillie, she al∣so * 2.114 taught how to make lillies: and I may say, when she created the grandfathers and parents of great Constantine, she then began the work of a per∣fect Emperour, which she afterward finished in the person of this Monarch, whose life we write.

Nazarius observeth, that he was descended from * 2.115 the Emperour Flavius Claudius, a Prince so renown∣ed, that it was said, the moderation of Augustus Caesar, the virtue of Trajan, and pietie of Antonius were assembled together, to harbour in his heart. He sustained one of the most furious incursions of the Barbarians, which ever was upon the Roman Em∣pire, for be in one sole battel defeated three hundred and twentie thousand, and deserved a statue of gold, which was erected for him in the Capitol having reigned onely two years.

Constantius Clorus the father of our great Constan∣tine, was as the rose amongst thorns; for he lived a∣mong those Barbarous Emperours, who made the world shed tears of bloud, with so great sweetness, temper, and continencie, that France and England, where he ordinarily resided, loved him as their fa∣ther. That which gained him the good will of peo∣ple▪ was, that he rendered himself affable to all the world▪ and thought no treasure greater than the love and affection of his subjects, He was a capital ene∣mie * 2.116 of extortions, and levies of unjust monies, even to the lessening rather the train of his house, than to overcharge those, which other Governours had oft∣times so ill entreated.

He being as yet but nominated for the Empire, * 2.117 Diocletian understanding his deportments, whether he would teach him frugalitie, or that he feared lest the bright lustre of the integritie of Constantius might eclipse him, one day reproched him with his povertie, and sent Embassadours to him expresly to see his husbandrie, and exhort him to heap up trea∣sures, as well as other Caesars. He desirous to appear * 2.118 magnificent at this meeting, spake but one word, which was to give the people notice he wanted mo∣ney. It was a pleasing spectacle to behold how all the world ran to him with full hands, every one of∣fering him what he had, with a love so cordial, and so prompt alacritie, that nothing might be said to be more affectionate. He in few hours amassed toge∣ther * 2.119 great treasures, which he shewed to these Em∣bassadours of Diocletian, who were much amazed thereat. But the brave Prince after their departure, restored all had been presented unto him, saving, he loved better to see riches in the coffers of his sub∣jects, and to retain their loves for himself, than to have all the treasures of the Indies in his house, with∣out friendship.

It was verily a fair and generous lesson, which he taught the Great-ones of the earth, who through excess of avarice heap together all that, which they must forsake, and in great abundance of wealth have a main want of two things which ought to be eter∣nall, to wit, Love and Truth.

Constantius did all this by ways of moral virtues: for although he had very good inclinations to Chri∣stianitie, he was no Christian by profession, being as yet straitly associated to the great persecutours there∣of:

yet because the accidents of time and place might permit it, he freely made use of Christian Officers, judging those would be most loyal in his service, who were most constant in piety. And to this purpose Eusebius addeth, that he being one day desi∣rous to make trial of the faith of Christians which were of his train, commanded them to sacrifice to Idols; which the most faithful constantly refused, resolving rather to forsake Court and life, than to be traitours to the character of their Religion. O∣thers yielding to the stream of the times, and hope of worldly favours, shewed themselves somewhat * 2.120 more pliant to his will, which he having perceived, dismissed them all; supposing they might well be per∣fidious to their Prince, since they had been disloyal to their God. And as for the rest having highly com∣mended them, he afforded them extraordinary preferment.

One would wonder from whence such sincere af∣fections * 2.121 should arise, in so ill education as he found among Persecutours of the faith. But for my part, I think we ought to impute this change, next after God, to the holy and couragious Helena, whom he espoused in his first marriage, and who was mother of our admirable Constantine. This incomparable Lady, that sought the Cross with more industy, than others do Empires, hath engraven her praises with an adamantine pen in the memory of all Ages. It is strange why certain modern Graecians, as Nicephorus and others, have been so desirous to attribute to Greece this creature, so that striving to make her a Grecian, they have made her an out-cast. I have not so much leisure in this treatise, as to amuse my self in recounting and refuting their fabulous narrations, being naturally an enemy of men affectedly eloquent, who have no other profession but to lye in good terms. I speak that which is the more probable, agree∣ing * 2.122 with what is written by Cardinal Baronius, whose opinions are ordinarily most sincere. Helena was an English woman by Nation, daughter of one of the best qualified men of this great Iland, who lodged in his house the Lieutenant of the Roman Em∣pire. Zosimus the historian, who could neither love Constantine nor his mother, morally hating Christi∣anity, reproacheth her, that she was no Lady, and spea∣keth as of a woman of base extraction: but we may well say, that his history, when he speaketh of faith∣ful Princes, hath mingled much gall with his ink. Certain it is, that Helena being a stranger, could not be in the Roman Empire of reputation equal to so many Princesses of the Court, from whom Constan∣tius might at that time expect alliance, yet was very honourable in her own Country, not so much by Nobility of bloud, as that of faith, wherein in my opinion she already was instructed; there being many Christians in England under the Empire of Diocletian. For I hold with S. Paulinus, that she was the first Mistress of her Son in the faith, and that we should not have had a Constantine, if God had not given us an Helena, Princeps Principibus Christianis esse meruit, non tam suâ quàm Helenae matris fide, saith this great Bishop.

Constantius at that time, Governour in great Bri∣tain * 2.123 for the Roman Emperour, being lodged in the house of her father, did cast his eye upon Helena, who was endowed with an absolute beauty; by reason whereof, as we may conjecture, she was afterward called Helena in the Empire, this name being not otherwise familiar with the English. With this emi∣nent comlines of body she had modesty, and a sin∣gular grace, which was a ray imprinted by God upon her forehead; as he did heretofore to the vir∣tuous Hester, to make her amiable to all the world. It is true, which Eustatius a Greek Bishop said, that beauty which hath no grace, is a bait floating on the water without a hook, to be taken, and to catch nothing: but when these two things do meet, they exercise much power over hearts.

And at that time Constantius felt the eyes of He∣lena had made more impression upon his soul, than could the sword upon his body: and being a Prince of a singular continency, so highly praised by the Pagans themselves, he would not require the daugh∣ter of his host by any other means than those of a lawful marriage, which Zosimus hath not wholly denied in this point, more respective, than some Grae∣cians, of Christianity. The father seeing the honour * 2.124 done him by his host, made no difficulty to resolve upon it; and the prudent Helena with as much ease condescended to the will of those to whom she owed her being. She entred into marriage for the univer∣sal good of the Church, to which she should bring forth a Constantine. Her first care was to soften the warlick humour of her husband, by the temper of sweetness and goodness, which she gave him in such sort, that in so great a rage of shedding of Christian bloud which than reigned, he kept his hands the rest of his days most innocent.

This marriage was as the sacrifice of Juno, where the gall of the offering was never presented. There was so much love on both sides, that the spirit of Con∣stantius lived onely in that of Helena, and Helena as the flower of the sun perpetually followed the moti∣ons of this bright star, together with all the good dispositions of her husband. The young Constantine, born in the same Britain, seemed also more firmly to knit the knot of these chast loves, when behold an obstacle which interposeth.

Constantius is sent to succeed in the Empire, and is * 2.125 declared Caesar by the Emperour Maximianus, on this condition, that he should forsake Helena his wife, and marry Theodora the daughter-in-law of the same Emperour. An Empire is a mervellous flash of light∣ning in the eyes; it dazleth and shuts them up from all other consideration. This good husband, who had so much affection for his dear spouse, suffers himself to be won by the ambition and easiness of his nature, which bowed much to the wills of those who seemed to wish him well, and by the lustre of the purple presented to him. Maximianus would needs play the Tyrant aswell over loves, as men, and plott∣ing marriages, placeth his daughter in the conjugal bed of Constantius, to plant him in the Throne of Caesars.

S. Helena, of more worth than an Empire, under∣standing * 2.126 the news, bare this alteration with great constancy, not complayning, either of the chance, force, or disloyalty of Constantius, but accounted it an honour, that to refuse her no other cause was found, but the good fortune of her husband. She more feared than envied Scepters, and was hidden in her little solitude as the mother of pearl under the waves, breeding up her young Constantine in such sort, as God should direct her. Constantius touched with this admirable virtue, lived in body with Theodora, and in heart with his Helena. He gave contentment in the East to a man Imperious, and served the times, to have his will another day: But he was in the West, in the better part of himself. Besides, when he was absolute, and that he must needs divide the Empire with Galerius his Colleague, he voluntarily resigned the rest of the world unto him, to have France, Spain, and his Ile of England, where the moity of his heart remained.

It is a very hard matter long to restrain an honest * 2.127 and lawful love. It is said when Sicily was torn from Italy by an arm of the Sea, which interposed it-self a-thwart, palm-trees were found by the vio∣lence of waters rent asunder, which in sign of love still bowed the one to the other, as protest∣ing against the element, which had separated their loves: The like happened to Constantius and

Helena: the torrent of ambitions and affairs of the world having parted their bodies, could not hinder the inclinations of their hearts. Constantius returned into Great Britain, there to live and make his tomb; for he in the end died in the Citie of York. And as he being on his death-bed was asked which of his children he would have succeed him, since besides Constantine he had three sons by Theodora; at that time forgetting his second wife and her off∣spring, he answered aloud CONSTANTI∣NUM PIUM, I will have no other successour but the PIOUS CONSTANTINE, which was approved by all the Army.

Thus God, the Master of Scepters and Empires, willing to reward the modestie of the virtuous Hele∣na, laid hold of her bloud, to give it the Empire of the world; in the end, leaving the sons of Theodora, to whom Maximian promised all the greatness of the world.

The third SECTION. His Education and Qualitie.

A Great Oratour hath heretofore said, speaking * 2.128 of Constantine, that he appeared as much above Kings; as Kings above all other men. It is the Elogie, which afterward S. Gregorie gave to our Kings. Verily he was accomplished with a spirit and bodie in so high a degree of perfection, that there needed no more but to see him, to judge him wor∣thy of an Empire. Nature sometimes encloseth great souls in little bodies ill composed, as fortune hath likewise placed Kings in Shepherds Cottages. It is an unhappiness deserving some compassion, when a great Captain is of so ill a presence, as to be taken for one of his servants, and be made to cleave wood, and set the pot over the fire, to prepare his own dinner, as it heretofore happened to Philopaemen.

Constantine took no care for falling into such ac∣cidents. * 2.129 It seemed, as Eumenius saith, that nature from above had been dispatched, as a brave harbin∣ger, to score out a lodging for this great soul, and to give him a bodie suteable to the vigour of his spirit, so well was it composed. He was of a stature streight as a palm, of an aspect such, that the Oratours of that time called it divine; of a port full of Majestie; his eyes sparkled like two little stars; and his speech was naturally pithie, sweet, and eloquent; his bodie so able for militarie exercises, that he amazed the strongest, and so sound, that he had no disease. In these members so well proportioned, reigned a vigo∣rous spirit, very capable of learning, if the glorie of Arms had not wholly transported him into actions of his profession. His father well enformed of his fair qualities, caused him to come into the East, where he took a tincture of good letters, at the least so much as was needfull for a warlick Emperour, and applied himself seriously to the exercise of Arms, wherein he appeared with so much admiration, that he was alreadie beheld with the same eye, one would an Achilles or an Alexander, were they alive again.

Diocletian, who had not as yet forsaken the Em∣pire, would have him at his Court, to work him from apprehension of Christianitie, to which he might be alreadie much disposed, and draw him to the hatred of our Religion. It was a most dangerous school * 2.130 for this young Prince; for education ordinarily createth manners, and we are all as it were, that which we have learned to be in our younger dayes. Con∣stantine notwithstanding gathered flowers in this garden-bed, not taking the breath of the serpent which was hidden there-under. He soon learned from Diocletian militarie virtue, prudence to govern souldiers, good husbandrie in revenews, authoritie to become awfull: but he took nothing either of his impietie or malice. This Barbarous man in the begin∣ning passionately loved him, and would perpetually. have him by his sides; but when he saw that passing through Palestine and other parts of his Kingdom, the young Constantine was more respected than him∣self (so much his carriage, especially compared to the harsh countenance of the Emperour, had emi∣nence in it) he began to grow into suspicion; and as it is said, desired secretly to be rid of him. But Constantine prevented the blow, retiring under an honourable pretext to the Court of Galerius, the associate of his father Constantius, who most willingly left this son with him in pledge, thereby to hold some good correspondence with him.

This Galerius was a creature of Diocletians, who * 2.131 had heretofore declared him Caesar, yet still retained such power over him, that when he had displeased him, he made him run on foot after his coach, not deigning so much as to look upon him. He in the beginning very courteously entertained the son of his faithfull friend, affording him all manner of fa∣vours, but in process of time he conceived a strong jealousie, beholding in this young Mars more excel∣lent parts, than he had done in all the Courts of the world besides.

Excess of virtues stand in the account of crimes with malign eyes, so as to be culpable one must be an able man. Galerius resolved to overthrow Constan∣tine for those qualities which made him amiable to all the world; and not thinking it safe to take him away by main force, he made war against him, like a fox, persecuting him in that manner, as some∣times Saul did the invincible David. He found by chance, that a King of the Sarmatians made an in∣cursion on the territories of the Roman Empire, and shewed himself ••o furious, that none durst any more encounter him than an enraged beast. Galerius gave commission to Constantine to bid him battel, think∣ing it was a most honourable pretext to be freed from him, and that he had a reasonable excuse with Constantius the father, when he should shew him his son dead in the bed of honour. The young man, who shut up his eyes to danger, and onely opened them to glorie, went thither readily; and all suc∣ceeded so prosperously, that he not onely brake the troops of the Sarmatians, but also led this King along enchained to Galerius. This man, who received not so much joy to see an enemie at his feet, as sorrow for the prosperitie of a friend, very coldly com∣mended this encounter, and determined with himself to involve the virtue of Constantine in other battels, still seeking in his valour the matter of his ruin.

It was at that time a thing very ordinarie, to make condemned men to fight with savage beasts in an Amphitheater, thereby to give con∣tentment to those who are delighted to behold such spectacles. Galerius called for a combat of Lions, and beheld it with Constantine, who was very impatient to see that such as undertook the assault of those beasts performed it, in his opinion, so coldly. He therefore had a desire to adventure himself therein. Galerius, who observed him over-strong for men, thought he might find his tomb in the bellie of Lions. Note, how under colour of withholding him, he thrust this young virtue further on, alreadie much en∣kindled with his proper flames. The valiant Prince descendeth in person into the list, and assail∣eth the Lion, whom he slew with an incomparable strength, whereupon so loud acclamations, and such

extraordinary applauses were raised through all the Amphitheater, to the honour of brave Constantins, that it alone was sufficient to make the treacherous Caesar burst with anger.

Envie is a mischievous vice, it resembleth those mountains which throw their burning entrails against flowers, that blossom on their tops, as the envious * 2.132 dart gall and flames against those men, who bravely bloom over their heads.

Galerius made the son of his friend reign in hearts, by the same ways wherewith he endeavoured to de∣prive him of life and Scepter. In the end, he still persisting in his wickedness, and not ceasing to pre∣pare new ambushes, some men of good understand∣ing advised Constantine to withdraw himself from the malignity of this wicked man, which he did, for∣saking his Court, without leave taken, and speedily returning into England, where at that time his father expected him with much impatience. Zosinius saith, that in this voyage he took the post-horses which best fitted him, and maimed all the other, to take from his enemies the means of pursuit.

The fourth SECTION. His entery into the Empire.

IT was in this revolution of times that Diocletian and Maximian having dispossessed themselves of the Empire, and Constantius having swayed cer∣tain years with a most prosperous and peaceable go∣vernment, died at York, a Citie of England, to the great grief of the West, which he had so prudently governed. Constantine by good chance was there and nominated by his father for the Empire, a little before his death; which judgement was approved with such consent of the souldiers and all the people, that he had scarcely as yet wiped away his tears, when the purple was cast on his shoulders, and he saluted Em∣perour. The good son, who thought on nothing but to render the last duties of his piety to the me∣mory of his father, found this honour unseason∣able, and would have declined it by all means: but a grave Oratour hath said in his Panegyrick, there * 2.133 is no horse so swift, which can steal from mortal eyes a man, whom the Providence of God pursueth with Empire in hand. He is constrained to yield, though through modesty he would not be absolutely pro∣nounced Emperour, but contented himself with the title of Caesar, well foreseeing he was to have many great affairs upon his hand, before he could be peaceably established in his throne.

The first shock he had, came from two Kings of Germanie, to wit, Assacar and Gaisus, who passing the Rhene with huge troups, endeavoured to overwhelm the Gauls, thinking to surprize a young Emperour, as yet uncollected in the uncertainty of his affairs. But he nothing amazed, speedily encounters, defeats, and takes them, leading them enchained in a tri∣umph, whereupon succeeded an accident, which I should rather attribute to the humour of Diocletion than of Constantine. For, after he had taken his plea∣sure * 2.134 upon these two Kings, he delivered them over to wilde beasts in a combat, which he caused to be presented, for the entertainment of the people. And although the Oratours of his time much applauded this in him, as an act of justice, for the great ha∣vock they both had made, notwithstanding having regard to the qualitie of the persons, this proceed∣ing cannot be excused from cruelty, never made fa∣miliar to the manners of Christians.

This forreign war drew along with it civil wars, * 2.135 wherein the powers of the earth encountered toge∣ther, with incredible servours, and terrible 〈◊〉〈◊〉. Behold a marvellous game, and a great spectacle of the vanities of the world: you shall see seven Prin∣ces, who aspired to the Monarchy, haling each one to himself a piece of the purple, which they r••nt in pulling, and despoiled themselves of it in seeking to put it on. The most fiery of them all, who would swallow the whole earth, could not have so much as five foot to cover his body.

Maxentius, the son of Maximian, companion of Diocletian, a man lost in conscience and reputation, condemned by the judgement of his own father, who thought him unworthy to succeed in the Em∣pire, understanding that Constantins was dead, and that they had chosen his son the young Constantins, born of an English mother, entereth into despe∣rate furies, and being then at Rome, ready for the purpose, caused himself to be declared Emperour, by the souldiers whom he had gained, alluring them by the means of large promises. Galerius, who af∣ter the death of Constantius, and the retirement of Diocletian and Maximian, thought himself the nearest to the Monarchie, laboureth speedily to hinder the tyranny of Maxentius; and having already made two Caesars to succeed, to wit, Severus and Maximinus, he dispatcheth Severus with all diligence, to suppress Maxentius: and as this Severus was now gone out of Milan, bending towards Rome, with Legions of Afri∣can souldiers, Maxemins prevented him, defeats him, as well by treason as force, takes him, and causeth him to be unworthily strangled. Galerius desperately in∣censed with this outrage, would needs fall upon the West, all full of lightenings and flames; but the di∣strusts of the safety of his territories stayed him, and made him create another Caesar, named Lycinlus: af∣ter whose nomination he survived not long, for he died of an incurable ulcer, Heaven revenging his misdeeds by a horrible maladie and an enraged death. After his decease, these two Caesars, who were both of his faction, Lytinius and Maximinus beheld one an∣other wich a jealous eye, and made shew of concesta∣tion; but Maximinus dying at Tharsas, of a very sud∣den death, decideth the difference by an irrevocable resignation.

In the mean time Maximian, who despoiled of * 2.136 the Empire, before he had a will to resign it, as yet retained bloud sparkling in the veins, like a young man: and seeing they had lifted his son to the Throne, whom he had ever reputed a man of no worth, burnt with jealousie, and burst with anger. He therefore hastened to find out his old Hermit Diocletian in his grot, (a) 2.137 and endea∣voured to perswade him by all means possible to reas∣sume the Empire.

Shall we endure (saith he) Great Augustus, this youngster so proudly to insult over the patrimonie of the universe, and make sport with the majestie of the Roman Empire? Your authoritie transperted me to a resolution, to which, that I may speak freely, I never had any great inclination: but I patiently bare it whilest I saw Gale∣rius and Constantius in the government of the Empire, who seemed two heads very fit for a Crown. But now behold my Maxentius, to whose trust I would not have committed the house of a filly Burgess of Rome, to govern it; behold a young Britan, and another I know not who, true mushromes sprung up in a night, that would divide between them Europe, Asia, and Africa. God knoweth, what I speak, is not through ambition, but seeing the house of our fathers, and our own all on fire; it is very good reason we bring water to quench it. What do you here in this miserable grot? You are not made for it: the Eternal Providence, which should have fixed you on the government of the world, so necessarie are you for it, is ashamed to see you among

heasts and peasants. To speak freely, you do amiss, and it is very ill interpreted; your great courage hath ever better hitherto loved to erre, than avow a fault: and I still was of your opinion, while time permitted; but at this present, when the world runs all into confusion, ex∣pecting no reparation but from your hands, with what water can you wash the stains of the bloud, not of one man nor of two, but of a whole world, which shall stick upon your forehead, and of all posterity, if to obey a fan∣tasie of spirit you suffer the Empire to be lost? Think you when these young men shall be Masters, you shall en∣joy this grote in safety? You have too much courage, and Tyrannie hath too much distrust, to leave you so much as life, when it can uncontrollably take it from you. Let us go presently and reassume the Diadem; we shall no sooner stamp with a foot, but we shall make all the world follow us in arms, for our service. If you still affect this kind of retirement, you shall thither return again, when we have pacified all: but believe me an Empire is a shirt, never to be put off but with life.

These perswasions were very moving: notwith∣standing Diocletian, who concluded all his wisdom in the obstinacie of his resolutions, replyeth:

Maximian, I absolutely renounce all the friendship which is betwen us, if ever you speak to me of such af∣fairs. What levitie have you observed in my proceed∣ings, to perswade me to this change? I protest before the * 2.138 Gods immortal, I will never return to the government of the Empire, no more than into my mothers womb. Mi∣serable man that you are, have you yet so little experi∣ence of the vanitie of worldly things, as to prefer a rag of purple before your libertie? I do not know what con∣tentment you may take in government, but for my part, I protest I then slept on thorns, and fed on gall. I neither enjoyed day nor night either rest or travel, nay not sleep; ambition depriving me of things which criminals find under fetters, and which nature is pleased should be com∣mon to all the world. I must live by exteriour shews, countenances, and smoaks; and if others once did what I would have them, they made me a thousand times do what I would not. It is said, a Planet which hath its exaltation in one sign, finds ever its counterpoize in ano∣ther. If I had any good success on the one side, I was ever paid on the other with some discontent. My desires were infinite, and though I seemed very potent, I never had the hundredth part of what I wished; and verily I knew not my self what I would have, so many things de∣sired I, which daily taught me mine own impotencie. What a goodly delight have we to cover the earth with arms, and the Sea with vessels, and fetch a great circuit to seek out a felicitie, which we never find? What li∣bertie, to live a slave of the world, to possess the world? What riches, to beg even from the sweat of a peasant, to entertain riot? What tranquilitie, to live perpetually in torment.

Your conscience knows this to be true, which I say: When you and I would intermeddle with affairs, accord∣ing to the obligation of our charges, what care must there be for revenews? what travel for militarie matters? what watching for justice? what noise upon the com∣plaints of so many Provinces poured out at our feet? what fear of surprizes? what distrust of friends? what deadly sweats for treason? what anxieties, and what ap∣prehensions of so many lamentable events, which would happen to others before our eyes? If we resigned the care of affairs to two or three men of our cabinet, they di∣sturbed one another, and sold us to their ambition under colour of service. In the end they caused us to carry the seeming Scepter of all their follies, and made us account∣able for all the havock, injustices, and miseries of hu∣mane kind. Is not here cause enough to desire such sla∣verie? If you and I had bodies of whales to clothe, and stomacks to be fed with huge sums of gold every hour in the day, I would say, that needs we must return to these kind of spoils to content us. But we have to do with few things, and for a little space. I swear unto you, that from the time I betook me to this retirement, it hath seemed that all the: elements were for me, and that I ne∣ver was more powerfull, more rich; or contented. I have found all that, which I sought for, health, repose, truth, wisdom, arts, and the Gods. Go not now about to colour your specious oration with pretexts of the publick good, I well know where your ambition itcheth: believe me, he is nearest to heaven, who least careth in whose hands the earth is. What importeth it, that young Constan∣tine, Maxentius, and Licinius divide the world? I shall see them strive together, like ar••s about a grain of earth. If the world must be lost, as it is very likely, I had rather it were in their hands than mine. I very well see the Em∣pire is sick to the death; I have for saken it, like an old Physitian, & wil hear no more speech of it, than of a body in the coffin. Believe me, neither you nor I can do any thing for its health but to witness our inability. All those who have admired our resolution in forsaking the Diadem, wil be the first that will cast the stone against our incon∣stancy, if we weakly go about to require again that which we so generously have abandoned. God forbid I should en∣ter into a fantasie to despoil my self of a glory, that ne∣ver any one Monarch had before me, which is the contempt of a world, when I had it in mine hands. If you be resolued to loose your self, do it without company; your frindship ought to pretend nothing upon me to the prejudice of mine honour and conscience. And whereas you propose unto me the danger of my person, I do not think that envy will extend it self over the coleworts and lettice of this little garden, planted by mine own hands: and should they come thither, I have already li∣ved long enough, according to the course of nature, enough to satisfie the desire, which I had if glory, and too much to see the miseries of the world. I will not think much to render up this life, which I have upon my lips, to him who gave it me.

We must needs say this man had a great under∣standing, and goodly Maxims: For had not mischief given him the spirit of a hangman against Charistia∣nitie, he might be accounted in the number of the greatest Emperours. Maximian was much ama∣zed at the constancy of his resolution. Notwith∣standing, the desire he had to return to his former honour being insatiable, he spared not to take the purple again, and bear himself as Emperour, protest∣ing it was the desire of publick good, which put the Scepter into his hands.

It is an admirable thing, how his ambition was * 2.139 discountenanced. He, who promised himself, much respect, was hissed at by the souldiers, as a man vain, unconstant, and shallow; was chased out of Italie, and Sclavonia, and other places, which he sought to possess, and reduced as it were to such terms, as to see himself at the mercy of his son, which he appre∣hended as the last of his afflictions: Although some have thought there was collusion between the father and the son, for the accommodation of their affairs. He wished now to be in the bottom of a cave with his Diocletian: but since he had begun the play, he must finish his act. The subtil man, who well fore∣saw that Maxentius, a brain-sick Prince, was upon ruin, resolved to league himself firmly to the fortune of Constantine. Behold why being retired in haste to∣wards him, having engaged his house in the Empire, it was not difficult for him to find access there, as also for that the new Emperour in this great con∣course of arms and affairs, was very willing to make use of the counsel of a man refined in po∣licie.

Maximian entereth so far into the heart and judgement of Constantine, that to tie him the more to himself, and wholly cement up his own affairs, he gave his daughter Fausta in marriage to him; whom the young Prince espoused in his second wed∣lock,

having first of all been married to Minervina, by whom he had two children, Crispus, and Helena. This marriage of Fausta was solemnized with much magnificence, and the son rendred so much honour to his father-in-law, that he seemed to retain no∣thing of the Empire but the name and habit, divi∣ding with him the rest of his power.

We may well say the spirit of Maximian was tur∣bulent * 2.140 and insupportable; for not satisfying himself with all this excellent entertainment, he thought he was nothing, if he wore not upon his forehead the Diadem which he had forsaken. He began to set things in order at the Court, and to prepare factions in such sort, that he seemed to have no other pur∣pose but to set his son and his son-in-law together by the ears, to enjoy both their spoils. In the end he put his design very far upon the fortune and life of Constantine, & being as he was vain to talke of his enterprizes namely to his daughter Fausta, whom he esteemed to be of a good disposition, he opened him∣self so much to her, that he made, as saith the Wise∣man, of his lips the snare of his soul. For the young married wife, having more affection in store for her husband than her father, and who having already the tast of Empire, would not yield it up to him, to whom she had owed her birth, hastened to tell all to Constantime, advising he should take heed of his father-in-law, and that he was a wicked man, who would if it were possible deceive all the Gods of Olympus for the desire he had to reign. Maximian well perceiving that his daughter had discovered the plot, and that there was no further safetie for him at the Court of his son-in-law, secretly stole away, and endeavoured to regain the East; but was taken tardy at Marsellis, and there strangled, to give an end to his life & all his designs. Some have writ∣ten that he hanged himself through despair of his affairs; others, that it was by the commandment of Constantine: Others have said, that his son-in-law * 2.141 was willing to save him, but the publick hatred born against Maximian prevented clemency, which I think the more probable. Verily I would not dis∣guise the exorbitances practised by Constantine be∣fore his entrance into Christianity; for he cannot be justified upon some disorders: But since Zosimus the historian, who pardoneth him in nothing, char∣geth him not with this death, I see no cause why we should accuse him

Behold the desperate end of Maximian, after he * 2.142 had persecuted the Church, embroiled Empires, all armed the whole world, by the extravagances of his ambition, an infamous halter taketh a little air from him, which he thought he could not freely enough breath, whilst any man stood more eminent than himself. Let us now see the good government of his son.

The fifth SECTION. His prowess against Maxentius.

MAxentius had reduced the City of Rome in∣to * 2.143 such a condition, that there was no forrest of theeves wherein the lives of Citizens were not more safe than in their houses. He who held his advancement from souldiers, for recompence gave them the priviledge of all crimes; so that in the brave orations which he made to them, no words were more frequent in his month, than these, Fruimi∣ni, dissipate, prodigite: Enjoy, riot, spend; and what he said in words, he first of all taught by example. What ever avarice could do in rapines, prodigality in pro∣fusions, cruelty in massacres, luxury in adulteries, a barbarous life in all kind of bruitishnes, returned upon the great Theater of the world, in the person of Maxentius. Whē he had caused houses to be rifled, and unworthily massacred the best qualified Sena∣tours, he betook himself to the honour of Ladies, which he endeavoured to taint with all sorts of ar∣tifices. Among other things it is recounted, that * 2.144 having cast his eyes upon a Lady, a Christian by profession, and wife of a Senatour of an honourable rank, he dispatched villains, who served him in such like ordures, to attach her, with sword and violence in their hands. The timorous husband said to the Emperours Guard, he would refer this matter to be treated at the will of his wife. She understanding what was practised went presently out, and shewed to these wicked messengers, that she was not now in a fit state to be presented before the Emperours eyes, and prayed, they would give her a little time to put on her attyres; which they most willingly condescended unto. The couragious woman, inspi∣red as it was thought with a particular instinct from God, cast her self at the feet of our Saviour, holding a ponyard in her hands, and thereupon began to say: What shall we do, O holy chastity, which I with so much * 2.145 loyalty have preserved in the conjugal bed, never having admitted a forrain love to enter into my heart? Shall we now abandon thee to the pollutions of a Tyrant, forsa∣ken both by God and men? Let us rather die. Die? It is one of my great desires, but to die by my own hands is a sin. Yet the inspiration of God dictateth to me, he will not be offended with the remedy, which is onely left me to decline my happiness. I will follow the spirit and leave nothing to the flesh, wherewith to displease God. If there be a fault in it, my hope shall smother it, and my bloud shall wash it away. Upon these words, inter∣rupted with sighs, she thrust the ponyard into her bosom, giving end to her life, to enternize her honour.

The Bauds who expected her at the gate, won∣dering much at the length of time she bestowed in dressing, entred into the chamber, and found her drenched in her own bloud: wherewith they were so amazed, that fear gave them wings to flie, and make relation to the Emperour of what had passed: but the wretched Pharaoh, was not for all this any thing mollified, still continuing his sacriledges with magick and horrible witchcrafts, until such time that Constantine came to awaken him.

Behold one of the noblest acts of valour, which hath ever been among all the Emperours, that either have preceded or succeeded the great Constantine. For having sought peace by all manner of reasona∣ble wayes, and seeing Maxentius would by no means hearken unto it, but that he caused his images and statues to be broken and dragged over dunghils, he resolved to assault him with a just war, in which he began, although not publickly, to abandon the false Gods, and resign himself into the hands of the Sa∣viour of the world, thereunto invited by that excel∣lent vision of the Cross, and other circumstances, which I reserve for subsequent Sections, where I in∣tend to speak of his calling to Christianity.

It was from this time he took the fatal banner, called the Labarum, wherein the name of our Savi∣our was written in certain cyphers.

The Army of Maxentius was composed, by the re∣port of Zosimus of an hundred threescore and ten thousand foot-men, with eighteen thousand horse; forces so terrible, that they were able to stop the most adventurous.

Constantine amassed together Gauls, and from Eng∣land, and France it-self, in the name of inhabitants upon Rhein, all the forces he could get, and put into the field about ninety thousand foot-men, with many horses of service, which onely amounted to eight thousand. It is the supputation of Zosimus, although others sufficiently declare the troops were far less. He, who by relation of Eusebius was then about thir∣tie years of age, although others make him younger,

shewed in the manage of this Army, all the quali∣ties which might be desired in the most accomplished Captain. For he marched from the Rhein unto the wals of Rome, with singular order, and unparalelled dexterity.

When he entered into Italy he found many resist∣ances both of men and Cities, who endeavoured to stop his passage, in such sort, that needs he must give two or three battels, which he most couragi∣ously won, forcing the rebellious Cities, and very courteously using those who rendered themselves into his hands. In the end he resolved to besiege the City of Rome. Maxentius, who might have tyred him out with long delays, resolved to oppose, and with all expedition joyn battel, considering in the vast multitude of his forces, which were very fresh to set upon an Army, already wearied with so great a journey.

Besides, he had many notable works over Tyber, on the bridge Milvius, which the Romans now call Ponte-mole. His enginiers promised him, that with certain buckles of iron they would build and demo∣lish the bridge as he should think good: So that when his Army was to pass, it should go upon firm ground, and when Constantine with his troups set foot upon it, they were but to let a certain engin loose to drown the bridge and cast it into the river. It seemed to Maxentius he had two strings to his bowe, either to overthrow Constantine in the field with a huge Ar∣my, or entrap him with the stratagem of this bridge, when he was engaged in the battel, and that he had given him a tast of pursuit.

Upon this resolution he passed the Tyber with his Army. Constantine, most glad to have drawn him out of the wals of Rome, arrangeth his battalions with marvellous dexterity, and disposed his souldiers to the fight. Behold two dreadful Armies, which looked one upon another like to huge clouds full of storms, readie to pour down upon the heads of many mortals. The lot is cast, and the quarrel of the Em∣pire of the world must be determined in few hours. The brave Constantine resolved with that small pro∣portion of horse he had, yet men most daring, to assail the Cavalrie of Maxentius, and for a singular testimony of his valour, and the trust he had in God, he first of all appeared in the head of his Army, and with many paces set forward before the rest, making his horse curvet in a martial manner. It was an easie matter to know him, for his arms shined all with gold, and his helmet was set with precious stones. His enemies began to fall roundly upon him; but the Captaines of Constantine, seeing their Emperour so generously to out-brave danger, followed him with such fervour, as if every one of them expected an Empire for recompence. They fell like lightning upon their enemies, who were much amazed at this first charge; yet they notwithstanding made good resistance, but maugre all their endeavours, those of Constantine brake through, and defeated them.

Maxentius beholding his Cavalry, in which he * 2.146 reposed all his hope, to be so ill handled, resolved upon a retreat, to make use of his bridge, and drown Constantine engaged in the pursuit of those that fled. But oh the justice of God! The wicked man, as saith the Royal Prophet, falleth into the ditch which he himself had digged. It is not known whether those besotted engineers failed in their design, or whether the great numbers of those that fled caused this ruin: but the bridge brake under Maxentius his feet, and threw him into Tiber all bloudy, like ano∣ther Pharaoh in the red sea, with all the principal of his Empire, who environed his person. He amazed at so violent a fall, hoped yet to recover the other shore, being excellently mounted, where he was seen to wrestle a certain time with the waves, which in the end swallowed him up. There was in the begin∣ing a great slaughter of those, who made resistance: but in the end seeing their Emperour drowned, they yielded all to the mercy of Constantine, who stayed the victorious sword in the hands of souldiers, to consecrate it to clemency.

He did well to search for the body of Maxentius in Tiber to take off his head, which was fixed on the point of a lance, and born to Rome and Africk, to satisfie justice for the enormous forfeits he had committed when he was alive. From thence this brave Conquerour is received in the City of Rome, as an Angel descended from heaven, for the deliver∣ance of the world. Never was triumph so highly valued as his, because in the tropheys of other Em∣perours, they triumphed for the gaining of some far-distant Province; but in this, lost Rome recovered it-self. The Queen of Nations ceased to be the prey of Nations, & breathed now a sweeter ayr of ancient liberty. If ever Prince saw a glorious day in all his life, this was it, which shined then over the head of Constantine. They came from all parts of Italy to behold him, and those who had seen him thought they had lived long enough, supposing it unfit to behold any other humane thing. Amongst so many notable spectacles, at that time in the City, none was looked upon, but he; his face was the object of all their admirations, and his valour the matter of all discourses.

The Senate, to witness the joy they conceived for this victory, prepared him a triumphal Arch, all of marble, one of the stateliest monuments that ever had been raised to the honour of a Conquerour, wherein this Inscription was engraven.

IMP. CAES. FL. CONSTANTINO MAXIMO. P. F. AUGUSTO. S. P. Q. R.

QUOD INSTINCTU DIVINI∣TATIS, MENTIS MAGNI∣TUDINE, CUM EXERCITU SUO, TAM DE TYRANNO, QUAM DE EJUS OMNI FACTIONE, U∣NO TEMPORE, JUSTIS REM∣PUBLICAM ULTUS EST ARMIS, ARCUM TRIUMPHIS INSIGNEM DICAVIT.

This said that the Senate and people of Rome de∣dicated this triumphal Arch to Constantine Empe∣rour and Great Pontifice, happy Prince, and Augustus: because by an instinct of Divinity, and an admirable greatness of courage, he had with his Army freed the Common-wealth from a Tyrant and all his fa∣ction, by the justice of his arms: Where, in the Arch on the right hand were read these words, Liberatori Urbis; on the left hand, Fundatori Quietis; which clearly declared him, the Freer of the Citie, and Founder of Repose. There was likewise inscribed on it the number of years, in which they desired to ren∣der vows for this glorious victory. Observe, as you pass along, that the Senate was as yet Pagan, yet knowing the devotion which Constantine bare to the Saviour of the world, though he were not then a declared Christian, they abstained from the mention of Gods, and spake onely of one Divinitie.

The sixth SECTION. The death of Diocletian, and feats of Arms, performed by Constantine against Lycinius.

SInce I have undertaken to represent the famous warlick Acts of Constantine to shew his arrival to Monarchy, I will here insert the end of Diocletian and Lycinius. When Constantine caused his Standards to march against Maxentius, there remain∣ed no more of so many Caesars, but Lycinius, who was created a little before the death of Galerius. The brothers of Constantine would alter nothing. Diocletian remained in his retirement. There was none but this Lycinius, who was an old souldier, a man raised from nothing, but advanced by arms, and who had done so good services to Galerius, the crea∣ture of Diocletian, in the war which he had against the Persians, that out of meer respect of his valour he was chosen Emperour.

In all other things he was of a rude and gross spi∣rit, as derived from Peasants, and who all his life had done nothing else but handle iron, either for tillage, or war, not having acquired any neatness of a ci∣vil life. Behold the cause, why being ignorant and proud, he extreamly hated learning, which he called the poison of the Empire: and had it been in his power, he would have banished all knowing men, that there might be none able to reproach his ig∣norance. Constantine, as wise as he was warlick, saw well he must mannage this spirit, who might much trouble him in his design against Maxentius, for which cause following this counsel, he promised him a share in the Empire, and his sister Constantia in marriage. It is held this marriage was solemni∣zed at Milan, a little after the defeat of Maxentius, where many treaties passed between Constantine and Lycinius touching their principalities, and from that time a most favourable Edict was made for the re-establishment of Christians, & the honour of Chri∣stianity; which Lycinius, although a Pagan, refused not to sign.

Victor addeth, that Diocletian was sent for to the wedding of Lycinius. For it was much desired to hear him speak, and see what he had upon his heart; his spirit being very able to give cause of distrust to two Princes, who were desirous to establish them∣selves in all security.

The subtile Hermit on the other side, who feared to be overtaken, made an answer, in which he be∣sought their Majesties to give him leave to live in his Hermitage, and affoord him that for delight, which others commonly tooke for punishment. That he had not for the time to come any mind upon mar∣riages, and that as his age dispensed him from voy∣ages, so retirement freed him from the vain pleasures of the world. That his presence contributed nothing to this action; that the uneasiness of ways would much prejudice his health. In the end, since the re∣solution he had made never to enter into the man∣nage of any affairs, had left him no other share but vows and prayers, he would imploy them for their prosperities.

These fair words satisfied not the Emperours, who had a desire to draw the wolf out of the wood, which gave them occasion to write back again to Diocletian letters very sharp, as if they would willing∣ly involve him in the business of Maxentius. At this time the miserable man plainly saw, the vengeance of God sought him out, in the place which he so obstinately chose for his repose.

When that notable Edict was read unto him, which was made in favour of Christians, and that he un∣derstood Churches were already built for them every where, that they assembled to celebrate their feast with all liberty, that Constantine had caus∣ed the Cross to be set even in his banners, and that on every side the praises of Jesus of Nazareth were preached: On the contrary, that the Temples of false Gods were shut up, their statues broken, their Altars overturned, and that all Paganism went to confusi∣on; this direful Persecutour then felt an infinite num∣ber of vipers to tear his entrails. And seeing besides, * 2.147 that he with so much sharpness was sent for, he ima∣gined the Christians victorious over persecution, would rent him in a thousand pieces. Thereupon, having his soul extreamly perplexed, and his body burdened with diseases, languishing and incurable, he perpetually invoked death, the most amiable of all his Goddesses, to deliver him from the ignominies and toils of life. In the end she too slowly answe∣ring his desire, as the most probable opinion speakes, he hastened her pace, taking poison, as a man who could not die by a worse hand than his own.

Behold the desperate end of the greatest Persecu∣tour which the Church hath ever had: who endea∣vouring to extirpate our Religion, hath filled our Martyrologes with the names of Martyrs, our Al∣tars, with veneration, Christianity with Crowns, and the world with virtues, and buried himself in the tomb of despair and infamy; to teach all Great∣ons; that a worse blindness cannot fall upon them, than the persecution of Innocents, whose bloud hath a voice in it, which crieth out to the memory of all Ages.

Lycinius being alienated from the friendship of * 2.148 Constantine, failed not to put Diocletian into the number of the Gods, although himself were shortly after to be razed from the number of men. This creature, who by report of Heathens of his own factions was covetous, cholerick, and lascivious, could not long comply with the humours of Con∣stantine: for he ceased not to torment the Christians which were in his Empire, with excessive cruelties, though himself, as we have said, had signed Edicts in their favour.

Constantine, who suffered as much as he thought * 2.149 reasonable, seeing his spirit became untractable, arm∣ed against him. The first encounter was at Cibales, a City of Sclavonia, where Constantine was encamped upon a hill, and Lycinius in the valley. The battel was very sharp on both sides, it lasted a whole day, from morning till night, they scarcely breathing; & there∣in Constantine was in much danger, had it not been that the spur of honour that pricked him on, made him do admirable things, which in the end discom∣fited Lycinius, and put him to flight. He went creep∣ing away, like an old serpent, who had received many blows, but yet retained strength and poison. For having gained Thrace, where he thought himself strongest, he rallied his troops, and disposed himself for another war.

Constantine stoutly follows him, finding means * 2.150 to pass the rivers, whereof these flying enemies had broken the bridges to cut off their way, and he so speeded, that he suddenly was in Thrace, near to the Army of Lycinius. From that very evening he rang∣ed his forces for fight, resolving to give them bat∣tel at the break of day. Lycinius seeing they followed him so hard at heels, amde him a virtue of necessity, and animated himself to sustain the shock, having no want of men able to do bravely. This second battel was also very rough, both parties bearing them∣selves man fully: and the ballance of victorie seem∣ing not yet to incline either to one side or other, behold five thousand Legionaries of Constantine, that had very long chased Lycinius, not being able to overtake him, arrived in the heat of this battel, and fell upon his Army to enclose it, but he, who was, to say truly, valiant in the art military, defended himself very well, and in the end freeth

himself from this fight, with composition to leave Sclavonia to Constantine, contenting himself to reign in Thrace and the Eastern parts.

This accord was signed with the bloud of Valens, whom Lycinius had before created Caesar, and whose punishment Constantine demanded in this treaty of peace, as he who was authour of all those Civil dissen∣tions. This peace so plaistered up, lasted not long. Ly∣cinius, still upon alteration, could not contain himself within the limits of reason. He gathered together a great multitude of ships, from the coast of Cyprus, Ae∣gypt, Venetia, Africa, Bithynia, and other places, and set a great Armado to sea. On the other part, he had an hundred and fifty thousand Foot in the field, with fifteen thousand horse. Constantine well perceived that he aimed at Monarchy, and had set up his rest: This was the cause why he prepared forces to confront him, making a naval Army of about two hundred great ships of war, with two thousand of burden, a foot-force of an hundred and twenty thousand men, ten thousand as well Cavaliers as brave sea men.

Now was the time the affair of Empires must pe∣remptorily * 2.151 be decided. Constantine armed with the confidence which he had in the Saviour of the world, whose banner was then advanced in all his Armies, knowing that Lycinius was at that time en∣camped at Adrianople, overtook him passing the river Ister, at this present called Mariza, so suddenly, that at the first encounter he routed all his Army, killing thirty four thousand of his men, and taking a very great many other prisoners, who yielded to his obe∣dience. Lycinius was so amazed with this blow, that he speedily retired to Byzantium, which afterwards was Constantinople, where Constantine pursued, and hardly pressed him. In the mean time Ablantus, who had the charge of the Sea-forces of Lycinius, resolving to give battel, put to sea a great quantity of vessels in a streight, which could not bear such a number. The Admiral of Constantine determined to assault him, with onely four-score light ships, who at advantage assailed him, finding him much plunged in his fleet. Night having broken off this first encounter, they be∣gan a-fresh in the open sea, where the tempest hand∣led the vessels of Lycinius so ill, that an hundred and thirty were lost, and the rest put to flight.

Whilest these things were in doing, Constantine very streightly besieged the Citie of Byzantium, ha∣ving raised plat-forms that were like huge moun∣tains, which at the least equalled in height the walls of the Citie, from whence he battered it, and en∣dammaged it with much facility. Lycinius seeing it was not the securest way for him; gaineth Bithy∣nia, where he trieth his utmost endeavour, making arrows of all wood: but all succeeded so ill with him, that of an Army which exceeded an hundred thousand men, there scarce remained thirty thousand. He, who could not yet find in his heart to give over, shuts himself up in the Citie of Nicomedia, where Constantine furiously assaulteth him; so that seeing himself upon the extream despair of his affairs, he went out of the Citie, and cast himself at the feet of Constantine, laying aside the purple robe and Dia∣dem, and onely demanding a place of safety, where he might pass the rest of his days, which could not much longer continue, for he was fully three-score years of age.

A certain Priest of Nicomedia, who lived at that * 2.152 time there, and who set hand to this History, saith, that Constantine sent him into France to bewail his sins; but the more probable opinion is, that he put him to death, being weary of his disturbances, and having much distrust of his spirit, notwith∣standing that Constantia still lived, and begged of her brother the life of her husband. Constantine can∣not be excused to have used most severe punishments even against his nearest kindred, having still in his head the fire of war and ambition, and not being reconciled but very late to the mildness of Chri∣stianitie.

Behold how so many Emperours being removed, he remained sole Master of the world, making af∣terwards divisions to his brothers, the sons of The∣odora, as he thought good. He that would atten∣tively consider this arrival of Constantine to Mo∣narchy, and the reign of more than thirty years, which God gave him, shall see more clear than day, that all these favours came not to him, but by the virtue of true Religion, whose Altars he the first of all Emperours exalted.

The seventh SECTION. The vices and passions of Constantine before Baptism, with the death of Crispus and Fausta.

I Will not here present unto you a Constantine in outward lineament, as Eusebius hath done, to co∣ver his faults, and onely expose beauties to view. It is no wonder that he had vices before Baptism, but it is the miracle of Christianity, to change Lions into Lambs, sinks into fountains, and thorns into ro∣ses and tulipans. The ice of winter makes the beau∣ty of the spring, darkness contributes to the lustre of light, nor ever is the sun more bright, than after an eclipse. So grace, which is the splendour of eternal light, makes it self to be seen with more triumphs in arms, where it hath subdued most iniquities. It is certain, that this warlike humour of Constantine, transported him into vanities, ambitions, jealousies, and in some sort into a bloudy disposition, which was greatly fomented by the education he received in the Palace of Diocletian.

Behold a prodigious accident, which happened in his house, by a precipitation ill ordered, the death of his poor son Crispus, poisoned by the com∣mandement of his father, upon a wicked and sini∣ster calumny raised upon him by his step-mother. Ve∣rily my pen shaketh with humour, being to touch upon this history, and I know many Grecian flatterers either have passed it over in silence, or been willing to disguise it in favour of Constantine: but the holy Martyr Artemius freely avoweth before Julian the A∣postata, who reproched him with it, forbearing to de∣ny a fact, which was very notorious, yet desirous to sweeten it by intervening circumstances. Cardinal * 2.153 Baronius is much displeased with Eusebius, who hath spoken nothing of it, as if it were a thing very strange, that a man, who wrote to the son the life of his fa∣ther, in form of a Panegirick, should not charge his writings with crimes and furies, which men then en∣deavoured to suppress by all means. Great men have * 2.154 their judgements too tender for such like histories, and ordinarily resemble that creature, which bears his gall in his ear. They cannot hear a true Historie in any thing which toucheth them, without offence; they must sometimes understand their own lives in the rumours of people: where the one unlimittedly takes the liberty of speaking all, since the other takes licence of doing all.

The vices of Constantine about these times can∣not be concealed. But he having caused his son Crispus to be put to death, and thereunto added the death of his wife Fausta, who had raised the ca∣lumny against the innocent, this distick was affixed to the gates of his Palace, attributed afterward to Consul Ablavius:

Saturni aurea saecla quis requirat? Sunt haec gemmea, sed Neroniana.

It was an allusion to the humour of Constantine, who much loved pearls and precious stones; as also to that, which passed in the matter of Crispus and Fausta, the substance whereof is this: Let us not seek any more for the golden Age of Saturn: Behold one all of pearl; but the Age of Nero.

Let us speak what we think most probably to have happened in this affair. We have already mention∣ed, how Constantine in the prime of his youth was espoused in his first wedlock to Minervina, upon * 2.155 which the Writers of his time have much praised him, as a Prince very chaste, who to avoid wan∣dering and unlawfull pleasures, willingly tyed him∣self to a legitimate marriage, and from that time took upon him the spirit of a husband. It is an easie matter to believe, that this Minervina, whom he mar∣ried, had taken the name of Minerva, because of the * 2.156 wisdom, grace, and beauties, resplendent in her per∣son. It seemeth these great perfections of mind and body, ever draw along with them a certain fate, which affordeth them no long continuance, but ra∣ther the lives of roses, that in the evening make a tomb of the scarlet, whereof in the morning they made a cradle. The poor Princess quickly died, after she had brought forth to Constantine at one birth, which was her first and last, two twins, to wit, a son named Crispus, and a daughter, who from the name of her Grand-mother, was called Helena, and after∣ward married to Julian the Apostata.

This Crispus was verily the most accomplished * 2.157 Prince of that Age, for he at the very first sucked in piety with his milk, having the most glorious S. He∣lena for his first Mistress in Christianity. From thence being initiated in the study of good letters, he had for Tutour that famous man Lactantius Firmianus, one of the most eloquent and ancientest Authours of Christianity: who being the instructour of Caesars, notwithstanding lived in such poverty, that he with much straitness enjoyed the necessities of life. Crispus having manured his spirit with learning, very coura∣giously addicted himself to the exercise of arms; wherein he very well expressed the Genius and dex∣terity of his father, but with much more grace and sweetness. For Histories assure us, he was of visage most amiable, full of attractives and admiration, which made upon the minds of men so much the more impression, as they were ingrafted in a singular modesty, and a goodness so natural, that no man could near hand behold it without affection.

O God, what fury is there in dishonest love, and how much did it disturb the house of Constantine! If Lords and Ladies, who give admittance to affections and thoughts unlawful, did well consider the acerbi∣ties which attend this passion, they would rather tear their hearts out with their nails, than pollute them with such ordures. It is not without cause, what the wise Aristophanes hath said, that love was banished * 2.158 from Heaven, as a trouble-feast and disturber of the repose of Divinities. The truth is, where this passion setteth foot, it exileth from thence innocency, and tranquility, two the most precious pearls of life; and and were there wicked loves in Heaven, there would no longer be felicities. Happy is that life, which hath no eyes for those carnal beauties, and is all eyes to pre∣serve it self, especially in the beginning, from such surprizals.

The miserable Fausta wife of Constantine, daughter of Maximian, who had received good education in the house of her father, and was of a very sensual hu∣mour, even so far as to controle the devotions of her husband, and pick quarrels against Religion, which she would never embrace, had in this disorder vehe∣ment dispositions▪ sinisterly to admit the love which the beauty of Crispus might easily afford her. This divine feature standing always as an object for the wanton eyes of the Empress, enkindled so much fire in her veins, that another flame must be found to quench it. The children which she had by her hus∣band were nothing to her, in comparison of Crispus; Crispus was in her heart, Crispus in her thought, Cris∣pus in her discourse, wherein she yet had some tem∣per, fearing to discover her passion. Yet could she not forbear but say, Crispus was the idaea of perfect men, and the incomparable son, whose worth and virtue would survive with the world. It was much wondered, how a step-mother should entertain so much good opinion of the son of her husband; yet she having hitherto lived within the limits of ho∣nour, it was interpreted, all these affections were sincere and innocent. Crispus, who then thought not upon his own defence, in a combat that was nothing but courtesie, took all these favours as witnesses of a most unspotted amity, reciprocally rendering to her much respect, wherewith she shewed her self not a little troubled, desiring he would treat with her in a more free fashion: for love had already despoiled her of majesty.

Saint Augustine hath very well said, that he who will punish an exorbitant spirit, must leave it in its own hands, to serve both as a scaffold and execution∣er to it self. The unfortunate Fausta, who had al∣ready given over-free passage to sin, felt accesses of ice and fire, of desires, of affrightments, of confi∣dence, and remorse. Her conscience accused her in the bottom of her heart, and ceased not to shew her the enormity of this fault, when by the help of impu∣dency, she thought to have quenched these little spar∣kles of goodness, which God soweth in the most forsaken hearts. She knew not how or where to be∣gin this pernicious design. Crispus seemed to be too chaste, his Christian religion made him in her opinion too austere, his spirit was as yet too tender, and not capable of a most powerful wickednes; and although he should consent, where may faithfull complices be found, fit occasions, and liberty, to content an in∣famous desire? The pain which ordinarily attendeth crimes, the rigour of a Constantine jealous of his bed, the infamy, and apprehensions of punishments, coming to fall upon her thoughts made her well to see both the abyss and horrour: but passion tran∣sported her hood-wincked, beyond all considera∣tions; so that one day taking her opportunitie, she accosted the young Prince with words, which suf∣ficiently testified her a lost woman. But he, who would not at the first put her into confusion, with modestie declined what she had said; and interpre∣ted it far from her thought. She, who would no lon∣ger appear a Lucrece, being much troubled he should understand in a chast sense, what she had spoken to an ill purpose, unfolds her self so freely, that the wise Crispus, no further able to suffer this blushless spirit, spake a word to her rough and hopeless, That if she persisted in this infamous desire, he would give the Em∣perour notice; and thereupon flew from her like a lightening, and withdrew, leaving her in a despair and rage, not sufficiently to be expressed. All her love then turned into a diabolical hatred, which sug∣gested * 2.159 furies and black thoughts, resolving with her self to use him as as the wife of Poti••••ar did Joseph. She served her self with all the arms of grief, which were at that time very natural to her, ceasing not to weep and sigh before her husband, as if she had af∣flicted her self for anothers sin: yet had she so much cunning, that she feigned to hide her tears; and smo∣ther her sighs, to render the disguise more dangerous, by a pretext of modesty.

The Emperour seeing her in this plight, asked the * 2.160 cause of her sadness. She answered, it was fit for his Majesty not to know it. He the more persisted to understand what she feigned to conceal, pressing and interrogating her, to draw her calumny from her, with as much earnestness as one would a truth. In

the end she declared with many counterfeit hor∣rours, and words cruelly modest, That his son Cris∣pus would have enterprized upon the honour of his bed; but God be thanked, her faith inviolable put her under safety, free from such dangers: And that she demand∣ed no other satisfaction from this miserable man, who was fled, but the remorse of his wicked conscience. Con∣stantine recommending silence unto her, entered in∣to a black and deep anger, proposing unto himself, that the retreat of his son was a note of his crime; he determined therefore to put him speedily to death, and for this purpose, calling one of his servants, the most trusty and best resolved for executions, having under great oaths and execrations obliged him to se∣cresie, gives him express commandment to meet with his son Crispus as soon as he could, to treat warily with him, not affrighting, nor giving him the least suspition, and withal to fail not to serve him at his first repast with poison well prepared, so to send him into the other world. This man amazed at such a dreadfull command, asked of the Emperour, If he had so well resolved on this affair, as to use a son of so great merit in this manner. Yea, saith he, I have thought upon it, and it is necessary he die: for I must tell you, it not being needfull to inform you further, that besides the practise conceived by him, his life is incompatible with mine. The other supposed he had plotted some conspiracy upon the life and scepter of his father; behold the cause, why he hastened the blow, and being already very familiar with poor Crispus, he accosted him with great complements of honour and courtesie, feigning to make him merry, be∣cause indeed he then saw him in a very sad humour, upon that which had passed between him and Fau∣sta, covering his thoughts as much as he might, to preserve the honour of his wicked step-mother. Hereupon an unhappy banquet was prepared for the innocent, * 2.161 which was the last of his life, poison be∣ing traiterously given him, there where he least expe∣cted it.

Verily this death, which way soever we look, is most lamentable. The Tragedies which bemoan it with so much ornament, as that of our Stephanius, have much spirit in them; but taking onely the thing in the simple nakedness of the fact, it ministereth matter of compassion to hearts most obdurate: A young Prince, at that time the most absolute in the world, beautifull as an Absalom, valiant as an Alexan∣der, innocent as a Joseph, at that time taken away, when he was at the gates of the Empire which expe∣cted him, and taken away by a death so hydeous and treacherous, and by the commandment of his father, who caused him to die as one incestuous, not admit∣ting him to speak, nor permitting him to justifie him∣self, nor affording leisure to know himself, nor one small moment of time to prepare himself for death, which is allowed to the most criminal. He was si∣lently involved in the extremity of unhappiness, to shut up the mouth of innocency, and open that of calumny, to rail against his very ashes.

The generous soul, ever prepared for this passage by the laws of Christianity, which it had so devoutly em∣braced, issued out of his chaste body, to hasten to the crown of the Elect, leaving incomparable sorrows behind it. Alas! what doth not a wicked affection, a calumny, a suspition, an unbridled anger, an incon∣siderate word? O you Great-ones, will you never learn wisdom by the evils of others?

As soon as this news came to the Court, the wick∣ed * 2.162 Fausta well saw it was an effect of her treachery, and lively representing before her own eyes this poor Prince, whom she before had so much affected, at that time so unworthily massacred, in a beauty, in an age, wherein such as die are most pittied, and in a goodness, which would have given matter of com∣passion to Tigers and Lions; all her passion and ha∣tred was turned into an enraged sorrow, which made her crie out, and lament at the feet of her husband, confessing she had slain the chaste Crispus, by her de∣testable calumny, that it was she who had sollicited * 2.163 him to evil, but had found him a Joseph, endowed with an invincible chastity, and had detested her sin, as it well deserved; whereupon excited with choler, and fearing to be prevented, she had proceeded to this dreadfull accusation, and therefore was unwor∣thy to live, since she had slain the most innocent Prince of the world, and stained his own father with his proper bloud.

Constantine amazed beyond description at so pro∣digious an accident, had neither reply, nor sense of a man, so much wonder had rapt him from himself: but when he saw his holy mother Helena, who had so tenderly bred up the poor Crispus, bewailing him with unconsolable tears, and begging of the father, at the least the body of her grand-child, to wash it with the waters of her eyes, and bury it with her hands, saying, the wicked beast had slain her Joseph; he was pierced to the quick with compassion, ming∣led with fury. Then the poor sister of the deceased, who seemed nought else but the shaddow of her brother, coming also to dissolve her self wholly into tears, near to her Grand-mother, this spectacle the more enkindled the passion of the Emperour: And thinking that Fausta well deserved death, being con∣vinced of such a mischief by her own confession, he caused her to enter into the bath, and so in an in∣stant to be smothered with the vapour, which was a punishment wherewith many times they put persons of quality to death.

Behold the issue of the hydeous loves of Fausta, to * 2.164 teach all Ladies, that those passions, which begin by complacencies, soothings, and curiosities, very often end in horrible tragedies. In the mean time the house of Constantine remained long drenched in a dead si∣lence, and all was very secretly carried, so that none knowing what publickly to think of the death of Crispus and Fausta, it gave occasion to many to af∣firm they died for some conspiracy.

We cannot here excuse Constantine of a violent an∣ger, a precipitation, & a proceeding too bloudy. How∣soever, he caused Crispus to die under a false belief of impurity, which he thought was to be revenged, and Fausta punished by way of justice. Behold why this sin, though it hath much mischief in it, yet it hath not the determinate wickedness of the sin of David in the death of Urias, because the one wrought with a ma∣nifest knowledge of his crime and the other proceed∣ed therein with much ignorance, and sense of justice. Yet Constantine after these exorbitances was touched with great remorse, which in the end put him actual∣ly on the profession of Christianity.

The eighth SECTION. The calling of Constantine to Christia∣nitie. The progress of his Conver∣sion and Baptism.

I Have always esteemed the saying of S. Paulinus, * 2.165 which we before alledged, very probable, that the faith of S. Helena did not onely make Constantine a Christian, but the first of Christian Princes. This good mother without doubt gave him the first tincture of Christianity; but being of an ambitious and warlike spirit, who went along with the main stream of the world, he was not so soon confirmed in the faith and integrity of religion. Notwithstanding, he began to have most lively apprehēsions for his conversion about the seventh year of his Empire, which was the year of the defeat of Maxentius; whilest he had this great

war upon his hands his temporal necessities opening his eyes, that he might have recourse to spiritual forces. He then endeavoured, as he afterward rela∣teth, * 2.166 to meditate seriously within himself, that there was some Divine Providence from Heaven, which gave concussions to victories and Empires, without which the counsels of men were cloudy, their Ar∣mies weak, and labours vain. Afterward remem∣bering what had passed in the Roman Empire, he saw that those Emperours, who had shewed them∣selves most fervent in the superstition of false gods, and were the greatest persecutours of Christians, had been infamous and unhappy, not beloved of the peo∣ple, without name, not honoured, issueless, and and for the most part odious and execrable to poste∣rity. He then imagined, that this Religion, which professed so much sanctity, and was grown up in the tempests of three hundred years, had something di∣vine in it, and that perhaps it would not be amiss to invoke in this great labyrinth of affairs, the God of his mother.

As he then went up and down revolving these dis∣courses in the bottom of his thoughts, casting his eyes up to Heaven, he perceived about the evening, the figure of a great Cross, all composed of most re∣splendent light, which seemed unto him to bear these Characters, IN HOC VINCE, Vanquish in this sign. This was much more important than the bowe in Heaven, which Augustus Caesar saw about the sun, when he entered into Rome to take possession of the Empire. Notwithstanding, Constantine and the Cap∣tains, who observed this sign in Heaven, had some di∣strust, because of the figure of the Cross, which till then was ever accounted of an ill presage. Now, as the Emperour slept in the night, in great perplexity of cogitations, it seemed that the God of the Christians appeared unto him, with the same sign which he had seen the day before, commanding him expresly to car∣ry it hereafter in his Ensigns.

Following this vision, he caused a Banner to be made, in the manner as Eusebius describeth it, who had seen it. It was as a launce all of gold, which had a piece of wood athwart in form of a Cross, from whence hung a rich imbroidery, in which was the image of the Emperour, and about it a Crown of gold and pearl, which bare in the middle the two first let∣ters of the name of our Saviour. This was from that time forward his prime Banner, which the Romans called the Labarum. It was no otherwise differ∣ent from the standards of the Roman Bands, but that it carried the sacred cypher of this venerable Title, which was not understood by all the world, but held by the Pagans as some devise of the fantasie of spirit. The war against Maxentius having so prosperously succeeded, as we have said, under this propitious stan∣dard, Constantine held the Saviour of the world in great veneration, and made the Edicts, which we know, in favor of Christians. Notwithstanding, he for a long time deferred his publick and solemn profes∣sion thereof, whether it were that the course of great warlike enterprizes and affairs diverted his mind, or whether he feared to distast the prime men of the Em∣pire by this change. It is likewise thought, that his wife Fausta, whom he in the beginning much affe∣cted, greatly weakened his love to Christianity; in such sort, that the Christians ceased not to be still ill intreated in this remisness of the Emperour. In the * 2.167 end, after the calamitie of the death of his son and wife, so tragically happened in his own house, he se∣riously opened his eyes, about the nineteenth year of his Empire, to seek remedy for his evils.

Zosimus, a Pagan, leadeth us as it were not think∣ing of it, to the knowledge of the time, and manner of his Baptism. For he saith, that Constantine, after the death of Crispus and Fausta, had great remorse of conscience; and that not wholly having abjured Paganism, he sought from South-sayers, and Pagan Philosophers, as others adde, the means to purifie himself from the bloud, which he so unfortunately had shed. It is said that one Sopater, the wisest of the * 2.168 Platonists, who had sometime lived in his Court, told him these stains of bloud would stick on souls, and never be washed out, and that if they departed this life without punishment, they would re-enter into other bodies to expiate in the end those crimes which they had committed, and that there was no other remedy. The Emperour found this Philosophie very harsh, and his spirit being much tormented with ve∣ry strange disturbances; behold, saith Zosimus, an Ae∣gyptian newly come from Spain to Rome: (note that he meaneth the great Bishop Hosius, who was sent at the same time into Aegypt by Pope Sylvester.) This Aegyptian, saith he, having insinuated himself into the favour of some Ladies of the Court, found by their means access to the Emperour, who failed not to propose unto him the difficulties and troubles of his conscience. This man answered him, that his Majesty should not need to disquiet himself hereup∣on, and that there was no crime so enormous, which might not be expiated by the remedies which are pra∣ctised in Christian Religion. To this the Emperour very willingly hearkened, and resolved, all delayes laid apart, to become a Christian.

See here the beginning of the Baptism of Constan∣tine. * 2.169 As for the sequel, it is a question much perplex∣ed: for some would have him to be baptized in the suburbs of Nicomedia, upon the point of death, and others at Rome by S. Sylvester, about the 19^th year of his Empire. I say briefly, to decide this difficulty, that it is a most unreasonable belief, to think that Constan∣tine the Great, called by the general voice of the ho∣ly Fathers, The holy and Religious Emperour Constan∣tine, recorded in memorials and publick registers of the Church, which are recited before Altars, as the chief of Orthodox Princes; Constantine, whom the Arians, yea, the most refractory, which have been after him, never durst declare of their faction, to have been christened at his death, by the hand of an Arian Bi∣shop, out of the communion of the Catholick Church. There is not one to be found who favoureth this opi∣nion, but Eusebius, who hath been an Ensign-bearer of the Arians, and who no more ought to be credited in this article, than a Pagan Historian, it being most unequal to take him for a Judge▪ who had made him∣self a party in this affair. And if some passages be found somewhat doubtful in the Chronicle of S. Hie∣rom, which seem to support this errour, it is easie to consider, that this Doctour, who was a merchant en∣riched with infinite variety of learning, hath made many pieces, which he rather translated and compiled from others, than composed upon his own invention: and the learned are not ignorant, that his Chronicle is accounted in this kind of books, as a work form∣ed from observations and opinions of Eusebius, which should not at all alter the estimation we have of Con∣stantine, acknowledged and averred by so many other passages of the same Doctour. And if S. Ambrose in the funeral Oration of Theodosius, said, that Constan∣tine received Baptism being in extremity, we must not * 2.170 therefore infer, that he was baptized by Arian in the last instant of his life; otherwise he would not call him in the same passage a Monarch of great merit, who left faith as an inheritance for Princes of his posteri∣tie. This extremity then is an extremity either of troublesom affairs, in which Constantine saw himself involved, for having so long time deferred his Bap∣tism, or as others say▪ an extremity of sickness, where∣with he was surprized in the Citie of Rome, and cu∣red by Baptism.

The opinion of Eusebius being rejected, I ask, whe∣ther

it be not much more probable, to take that of a Councel entire, and very ancient, held under Pople Silvester about the year of our Lord, Three hundred twenty four, which is said expresly to have been as∣sembled at the same time that the Emperour Constan∣tine was baptized by Sylvester Bishop of Rome, than to adhere to inventions of a passionate adversary? As for other circumstances of this Baptism, which are * 2.171 drawn from the acts attributed to S. Sylvester, we must affirm, there are divers things very hard to be∣lieve, if we proceed according to humane reason: for we cannot so easily imagine what is expressed in those writings, that Sylvester was hidden in the caverns of the mountain, which afterward bare his name, fly∣ing the persecution of Constantine: of which other Authours make no mention, as being contrary to the humour and Edicts of this Prince, who after the vi∣ctory gained against Maxentius, ever favoured Chri∣stianitie. Besides it is there said, that Constantine de∣manded, what Gods were S. Peter and Paul, who had appeared to him in his sleep: Which was not very likely in an Emperour, that so many years before was instructed in the mysteries of Christian Religi∣on. Adde also the leaprousie of Constantine, whereof no authour hath spoken before those acts, and where∣with it is held, that Constantius the son of this great Emperour was much offended, complaining they at∣tributed to his father counterfeit maladies, to cure him in picture. If we must pursue opinions humanely reasonable, I would say, that Constantine could no more be leaprous, than our King Clodovaeus of most glorious memory; of whom S. Gregory of Towers * 2.172 hath said, that on the day of his Baptism he was cu∣red of an old leaprosie, intending by that speech, from sin. It is true that Cardinal Baronius doth all which an able man may to clear these difficulties: but there are certain things, which it is more comely to believe piously, than easily to establish by reason. And there∣fore if the Reader here desire to know my conceit, I hold, it is a timorarious thing to go about to tax and turmoil old beliefs, which though they pass not for articles of faith, are notwithstanding received with edification in common opinions. Varro saith, that no * 2.173 desire to be wise contrary to common understand∣ing, is to rank ones self in the number of fools: and the great S. Hilary hath said very worthily, that the * 2.174 first verity of wisdom is sometime to believe what one would not, submitting our judgement to men of the best understanding: which if it were well conceived, so many young heads would be ashamed to account themselves able men, especially in matter of faith, thereby inordinately taxing all the monu∣ments of antiquity.

I say then, for these acts, which are accounted to be S. Sylvesters, and namely for those reported by Pope A∣drian, as it is not my intention to engage my self upon the proof of them by a way of sleight human reasons, so would I not in any sort impugn, but rather believe them, with a religious simplicity, which is the science of Saints, and ever the most assured.

These acts tell us, that Constantine still deferring * 2.175 his Baptism, and living in much liberty, was struck∣en with a leaprousie, which was a manifest wound from Heaven, wherewith greatly afflicted, he con∣sulted with Magicians to apply some remedie. They gave him deadly counsel, whereof the Kings of Ae∣gypt had heretofore made use in the like maladie, which was to make a bath of humane bloud. This at the beginning seemed to him very strange, but the infirmity which pressed him, had no ears to hear rea∣son: little children were taken of the meanest con∣dition in the Citie, to cut their throats like sheep, and consecrate their bloud to the health of the Em∣perour. The mothers dissheveled and desperate, ran after their tender infants, even to the gates of the Palace, and howled so dreadfully, that Constantine hearing their cries, and withal the cause of their sorrow, commanded the infants to be restored to their mournfull mothers; esteeming it more reason∣able to tollerate his evil, than to be cured with so cruel a remedy.

The night following, S. Peter, and S. Paul appear∣ed to him in a dream, and advised him to forsake all these Pagan superstitions, to re-edifie the Churches of Christians, and send for Pope Sylvester, who was at that time hidden in the grots of Mount Soracte, that would discover unto him a fish-pool, which should heal his leaprousie. As soon as he a wakened, he recounted his dream to the Lords of his Court, and sent to seek out the Pope, who seeing these Gen∣tlemen come, disposed himself to Martyrdom, think∣ing they came to lead him forth to slaughter: but understanding from their own mouthes much other news, he set forward towards the Emperour, who most courteously received him: and having made a long discourse of matters which had happened unto him concerning his calling to Christianity, he de∣mandeth of him what Gods were Peter and Paul, who had appeared unto him in sleep, and made over∣ture of the fish-pool, wherein he should be washed. The Pope answered they were no Gods, but Apo∣stles, and servants of God. Thereupon he required to see their images, which Sylvester sent for by a Dea∣con: and having found them like to the faces he saw in sleep, he cryed out aloud, that he no longer must de∣fer the fish-pool.

Sylvester seeing him resolved to be baptized, com∣mandeth a publick fast, accompanied with ordinary prayers, catechizeth the Emperour, and counselleth him to take seven days of retirement, to prepare him∣self for Baptism, and which is more, to lay aside for those days the purple and Imperial Diadem, that he might be clothed with the habit of penance; which he couragiously performed. And the day of Baptism be∣ing come, as soon as he was washed with these life-gi∣ving waters, he was miraculously cured of his leprou∣sie, beholding a light from heaven, and a hand stretch∣ed over him. See what is in these ancient monu∣ments, and which Cardinal Baronius rendereth pro∣bable, with reasons very consonant.

The ninth SECTION. The acts of Constantine after his Baptism.

CONSTANTINE after his Baptism began a quite other course of life: for laying aside all humane respects, which had hitherto tyed him to Gentilism for considerations of his State, he cau∣sed a Throne to be prepared in the Palace of Trajan, where having sent for the Senate, he declared with the eloquence of a Monarch, the reasons which had moved him to this alteration of Religion, and said:

SIRS, I doubt not, but the change of Religion, which * 2.176 I have made, will appear strange to many, who blame all that which they cannot understand, and will understand nothing, but what flatters their presumption. All no∣veltie is odious to those, who love the old age of errour: Yet I can tell you, this is no new Religion which I have imbraced, but that which was begun in the purified souls of the golden Age, happily finished in our days. The first men of the world had verity in bloom, we now see the fruit, which we may and shall enjoy, if we be not ungrate∣full to our happiness, and traiterous to our own conscience. Believe me, Sirs, the world is almost grown out of it's non-age, for God hath taken pitie of the ignorance there∣of, and made it see, it was not time any longer to place Dragons and Owls upon Altars, nor other Gods, accounted as monsters, if they would return into the life of men. If

our Ancestours, blinded by mishap, have made to be estee∣med for Divinities so many criminals, for whom our laws do now ordain punishments, we are not bound to partici∣pate with the crimes of the one, nor the errours of the other, under pretext of antiquitie. I must confess, that I from my infancie have had great distrust upon the follies which I saw in the superstition of Gentiles, and that which further confirmed me in this opinion, was, that one day I heard the answer of an Oracle, which had long time stood mute, and being demanded the cause of this silence, answered, The Just hindered it from speak∣ing, and we found those Just were the Christians, who then had power to stop the mouthes of devils.

Afterward I began to consider those men, whom I saw so persecuted, and that there was not a corner of the earth that was not ruddie with their bloud, yet were they notwithstanding so patient in their persecu∣tions, that they had prayers on their lips for those, who rent their hearts out of their bodies. This then gave me matter of amazement; but when I came to think on their Church, which flourished among so many storms, and encreased under the swords of persecution, this seemed to me more than humane; yet transported with the torrent of common opinions, I still resisted the voice of God, which spake in my heart, when it open∣ed my eyes, and made me once lively apprehend the dreadfull ends of Emperours, who had persecuted Christianitie, comparing them to the felicitie of my father Constantius, of most glorious memorie, who had preserved his hands innocent even to death, free from any stain of Christian bloud. This was sufficiently po∣tent to move a soul, which would easily yield to rea∣son: but God redoubling his inspirations, made me one day behold in the Heavens a prodigie, which many saw with me, to wit, the figure of the Cross, com∣posed of most resplendent light, which appeared just at the time I was to wage battel against Maxentius. I call the living God to witness, that I therein read distinct∣ly these words, written as with the rays of the Sun, IN HOC VINCE. And it is a wonder that I deferred still to yield my self up, till such time, that the Saviour of the world advertised me in a vision, to take into my Standards the sign which I had seen in Heaven the day before. I instantly obeyed, and have seen so pro∣digious effects succeed in the defeat of Maxentius, which you have admired, attributing to man that which was a work of the Divinitie.

I thought then to have discovered what I was, but considerations of state, which had too much force upon my soul, stayed me, and have made me walk along hi∣therto, in a life more licentious than I intended. I now protest before the face of Heaven and earth, that I am a Christian both in heart and profession; nor shall any motives ever alter that, which I have so constantly resolved on. Yet for all this I purpose not to force any man in his Religion, leaving for this time belief as free as elements: Yet for the charitie I hear towards my good subjects, I cannot but wish them as much good as my self. Now all my greatest happiness, and which I esteem more than my Purple and Diadem, is to entertain the knowledge of a living God, which hath been reveal∣ed to us by his onely Son Jesus Christ, the Doctour and Saviour of the world. His person is full of miracles, his life of wisdom and goodness, his doctrine of puritie; and if to conquer our pride, and expiate our demerits, he hath humbled himself to the punishment of the Cross, so much therefore the more ought it to be honourable, since he hath done for us all that, which an incomparable love can do, and endured all that which an invinoible pa∣tience may suffer.

I can do no other but love and singularly honour those who are enrolled under his Standard, as my brothers in Religion: and let it not seem strange to any, if here∣tofore shewing my self very liberal to beautifie and en∣rich the Temples of Gentilism, I now apply my self to build and adorn the Churches. I will render what I ow to God and my own conscience, nor shall my subjects, who are of a Religion different from mine, be any way interessed, therein desiring to preserve them, as persons, whom I hope one day to have companions in faith, and coheirs in glorie, if they adde never so little consent to the lights, wherewith the wisdom of God Incarnate hath replenished the world. I onely beseech thee, O great God, on whom all Scepters and Crowns depend, since you have united the East and West under my hands, you would arrange them under the yoak of your Law, which is the knot of Empires, and source of fe∣licitie. I offer unto you my person, mine Arms, my Scepter, and all mine abilities, humbly begging of you to accept my slender service, and to give me the assisting wisdom of your Thrones, to govern in all honour, all justice, all peace, and amitie, the people which you have committed to my charge.

This Oration was heard by all the world, with * 2.177 very great applause, in such sort, that for the space of two hours, the cries of an infinite number were heard, who made many acclamations in favour of Christian Religion. Fourty times was repeated, UNUS DEUS CHRISTIANORUM, There is but one God, which is the God of the Christians: and thirty times was proclaimed, LET THOSE WHO DENY CHRIST, COME TO NOUGHT: and ten times, LET THE TEMPLES BE SHUT UP, LET THE CHURCHES BE OPENED: And fourteen times, THOSE WHO ARE E∣NEMIES TO JESUS CHRIST, ARE ENE∣MIES TO THE EMPEROURS: And ten times, THOSE WHO ARE ENEMIES TO JESUS CHRIST, ARE ENEMIES TO THE ROMANS: And fourty times, THERE IS NO OTHER GOD, BUT HE WHO HATH SA∣VED US. AUGUSTUS CONSTANTINE: And fifty times, HE EVER SHAL VAN QUISH WHO ADORETH THE SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD: And thirty times, LET THE PRIESTS OF IDOLS BE BANISHED OUT OF THE CITIE: And thirteen times, LET THOSE ALSO BE EXILED OUT OF ROME, WHO WIL SACRIFICE TO IDOLS: And fourty times, COMMAND THEY BE PRESENT∣LY THRUST OUT OF OUR WALS.

Upon these last cries, the Emperour rose up, and making a sign with his hand, required silence which instantly made all this great multitude to hold their peace; and thereupon: No, saith he, I intend not any man should be forced in the matter of his Religion; the services of the world are oft-times constrained: but those we render to God, ought ever to be voluntarie. We have no greater proof of the Divinitie, than mer∣cie. God sheweth what be is, in so long time, and with such patience, suffering the impieties and ingra∣titudes of men. I would have all the world know, that I intend not to make Christians by necessitie, but by di∣scretion. As it is a crime to denie true Religion to those who require it, so it is an importunitie to seek now to impose it by force on such as demand it not. They that will not follow my example, shall not therefore be sepa∣rated from my friendship. I am the common Father of all in general, and no man ought to be frustrated of the pre∣servation which I ow him.

These words stayed the out-cries of those, who al∣ready transported the affairs into disorder, by an in∣discreet zeal, and gave good assurance to the Pagans, so that the Emperour going out of the Palace, they lighted at mid-day many lamps and torches, to con∣duct him to his house, with a thousand testimonies of joy and alacrity.

He at the same time caused certain laws to be pu∣blished, * 2.178 by which he left the Gentiles at liberty in in the exercise of their ancient superstition, on such condition, that they should abstain to speak in

any sort against the honour of the Saviour of the world; nor should at all disturb the Christians: ad∣ding, that he intended the sons and daughters of the family, yea the very servants, should not be kept by force in the Pagan superstition, but have all liberty to be baptized when they had a will thereunto.

O God, what incomparable charms have the exam∣ples of Great-ones in them, to dispose men to virtue! Nicephorus saith, that in a very short time there were numbered twelve thousand men, besides women and children baptized at Rome. Yet was it observed, there were few Senatours, nor of other politick spirits; so much the wisdom of the flesh is contrary to that of the Cross. Faith is the inheritance of the humble, and all those souls puffed up with presumption of their own ability, stick so fast to the earth, that they loose the sight of Heaven.

The holy Emperour, who was desirous to render * 2.179 himself as profitable by works and examples, as he became comfortable in his discourses, employed him∣self with an incredible fervour in all that which con∣cern the service of God, and namely in the building of Churches.

Where among other things, he did an act worthy of immortality: for the eighth day after his Baptism, passing to the place which was already dedicated to S. Peter, and where he had a purpose to build a fair Church, there in presence of all the world, he pulled off the purple Robe and Diadem, took a spade in hand, and began to dig the earth, to lay the founda∣tion; then throwing the scuttle upon his royal shoul∣ders, he carried twelve burdens of earth in honour of the twelve Apostles.

It was a spectacle full of admiration, and which gave an unspeakable joy to the Pope and Bishops there present. Notwithstanding the spirits of the times said, it was to abase the purple too much, and vilifie the dignity of Caesars: not considering that the Emperour Vespasian, from whom Constantine was descended, had done the like in honour of Idols, and were withal desirous, that this man should have less zeal for the living God, than others had used in the service of devils.

But the devout Constantine danced before the Ark, whilest Michol murmured at the window. He had a desire to adorn the place where he was baptized, as the cradle of his Christianity: and made the most admirable Font that was ever beheld, whereof we yet see some signs remaining, which our holy Father Pope Urban the Eighth, hath lately adorned, and em∣belished with notable endowments: For, among other magnificences, he caused it to be all covered both within and without with plates of silver, and commanded to set up in embossed work the statues of our Saviour and S. John Baptist, with seven figures of Hearts, which poured out water; all which was al∣so in very fine silver, so that it appeared with a mar∣vellous lustre. He commanded for curiosity, to burn balm in stead of oyl in the lamps there hanging, de∣sirous to apply the use of this precious liquour to the services of the Church, since Heliogabalus, the most prodigal of the Emperours, had used it in the lamps of his house.

He was not content to erect two Churches, the one to S. Peter, and the other to S. Paul, which he enriched with innumerable gifts; but he also changed his pro∣per Palace of Lateran, into a Church of our Saviour, which our Kings have afterward done in imitation of him, oftentimes giving their houses to make hou∣ses of God. He likewise there established a good quantity of revenues for the poor, which should be∣come Christians, leaving the managing thereof to the discretion of the Pope.

It would be a prodigious thing, yea very trouble∣som, to reckon up particularly all the presents he gave, and rents he setled in favour of Churches. It sufficeth to tell you that the Pagans became so jea∣lous, that from that time forward, they began to call him the PUPIL, saying, that the first ten years of his Empire, he had been a good Emperour; the second ten, a robber, despoiling Lycinius and o∣thers: But as for the third ten, he had put himself into Tutelage, resigning to the Church the whole ma∣nage of his estate. See the ordinary hyperboles of passionate spirits, who behold with an envenomed eye the wealth which is taken from riots and vani∣ties, to be bestowed on the Church. Yet notwith∣standing this great Emperour so intermingled mag∣nificence with the husbandry of his revenues, that the people were not neglected, nor did his greatness loose any thing of its lustre

It is a strange thing, that with all those celestial qualities which God had conferred upon his person; he could never tame the stubborn spirits of the Ro∣man Senate; so much infidelity joyned to presumpti∣on, admitteth obstacles to the lights of verity. This affront made him undergo another resolution, to build a Citie else-where, which he would equal, to the majesty of Rome, and fashion to his best liking, as he afterward did, changing the Citie of Bizantium into the royal Constantinople, an eternal monument of his greatness.

The tenth SECTION. The endeavour of good works, with the vir∣tues and laws of Constantine.

THis Monarch changed into another man, li∣ved not but by the fire of charity, cleaving to the earth by very slender roots of the necessi∣ties of nature: he began seriously to manure the pra∣ctise * 2.180 of prayer, discoursing familiarly with God, with a tast so sensible, that it surpassed all delights imagi∣nable in nature and wit; a diligence so great, that being in Arms and under Pavilions, he ever had his little oratory of retirement, where like another Mo∣ses he consulted with the Divinity. He hearkened to discourses of God with incomparable pleasure; and when he spake of the mysteries of our faith, which he as it were perpetually did, it was with so great exer∣cise, that his heart seemed to melt with his words. His zeal so transported him, that of the prime Cap∣tain of the world, he became a Doctour and Preach∣er, to procure the conversion of his subjects. He who so many times had carried in his hand the sword of the Empire, to cut off rebellious powers, bare then in his mouth the sword of the word, to fill the world with wonders. What he spake with his lips, he taught by examples, carrying under the purple a body worn out with abstinence and mortification.

He so trampled vanity under-foot, to which he * 2.181 formerly had some inclination, that among a great number of Churches and edifices of piety, which he caused to be built, he would not have his name thereon engraven, reputing himself unworthy, that God should accept such offerings at his hands. And as one day a Bishop, a flatterer, and an Arian, put himself forward to tell him, that after he had go∣verned the world upon earth, he should do the like in Heaven with the Son of God; he felt himself so confounded with this word, that he who ever treated with Ecclesiasticks with very much reve∣rence could not contain himself, but say: Bishop, let it not fall out you any more use such words concern∣ing me, for they are unto me most hatefull: you shall do much better and more suitable to your profession, to pray the living God, I may be both in earth and hea∣ven the least of his servants, than to propose to your self Scepters and Empires for me.

His patience was equal to his humility, whereof * 2.182 S. Chrysostom hath observed an excellent passage in the oration of Bishop Flavianus to the Emperour Theo∣dosius, where he saith, that as one day in a popular commotion, they stoned the statues of Constantine, there wanted not many about him who endeavoured to enflame him to the revenge of those outrages: to which he smiling, answered, they had strucken a man of stone, but the model remained entire. Now be∣ing not ignorant, that the vigour of Christianity con∣sisted in works of charity, he applied himself there∣unto with so much fervour, that it seemed his hands were that, which the Hebrew text speaketh of in the Canticles, Hands of the spouse, vessels of gold, repleni∣shed with a sea of bounty.

Before his Baptism, great calamities had reduced miserable fathers to such necessity, that being not able to maintain their children, they sought to be dis∣charged of them by ways most lamentable; of which the good Prince being advertised, he wrote to Abla∣vius his Lieutenant of the whole Politick govern∣ment of the Empire, to publish a Law through all the Cities of Italie, in which was intimated to all ne∣cessitous fathers, who were unable for the education of their children, that they should present them at a place appointed, there to receive apparrel and con∣venient sustentation: adding, he intended that not onely publick moneys should be employed to supply such wants, but that he would despoil himself wil∣lingly of that which was proper and peculiar to him∣self, for their comfort.

If he found any beggars in the streets, he delighted to clothe them, and to behold them in this new plight, making of his Palace a mount Thabor, where men were transfigured, changing their miseries into felicities. He most particularly enquired after the shamefac'd poor, who had hertofore been wealthy, & learned from them their fortunes, birth, and want, and as he found their qualities and merits, he gave some∣times lands and entire possessions to those, who were in very pressing necessities. A poor widow, who sighed in a corner of her house, forsaken of all the world was much amazed, that this Monarch of the world, came as an Angel from Heaven, to wipe away her tears, and provide for her poor orphans. A for∣lorn maid, and even upon the brink of the precipice, by the unhappiness of poverty, found the Emperour had given order for her marriage, and had himself taken the pain to know her future husband, and recommend good husbandrie unto him on his part.

This man was as the Intelligence tyed to the go∣vernment of the Primum Mobile, which is never weary, among so many concussions and motions af∣forded to total nature. He was a sun, who drew up, and digested all the vapours of the lower world, not intermitting any thing of its course or lights. He was an Ocean, who received drops of water as well as huge rivers: and as there was nothing so high in the world as to be above his greatness, so was there nothing so low, which could withdraw it self from his charitable knowledge.

He ever had his eye open upon the necessities of mankind, and not contenting himself to provide for them by the ordinary wayes of charitie, he thereunto added the hand of justice, making most wholesome laws for the tranquilitie of the whole world. This good Father of the Universe sought out poor banished men, who had been unjustly de∣spoiled by the rigours of injustice, and restored them to their professions. He proposed to himself in his own repose, the affliction of those who had wrongfully been transported into desert Islands, where they still lived, made slaves under the tyran∣ny of men, and in a worse condition than beasts. He thought upon the miseries they endured, who were condemned by unrighteous sentences to labour in mynes. He reflected on the long services of mi∣litary men, who were absolute in arms, yet often∣times gained nothing but poverty and ignominy. But above all these considerations, as occasions re∣quired, * 2.183 he made most worthy Edicts, for the comfort of so many persons as lived in the acerbities of the world. And for as much as concerned justice, which consisteth in the punishment of crimes and abuses, he was a Hercules, who had perpetually his club lifted up to quell monsters.

There was a custome in those times of Duels and * 2.184 gladiatours, which were much more tollerable than now-adays, for then none were employed therein, but slaves, criminals, and men of the sack and hal∣ter, who were already condemned to death. And now-adays is found a frantick Nobility, who de∣grading themselves from the honour of generous spi∣rits, and bearing the sentence of an ignoble action against themselves, make tropheys of that which is put upon Moorish slaves for punishment. Yet the great Constantine saw this manner of punishing the base and abject creatures of the world was too bru∣tish and butcherly, and that it would do well to change these duels into Gallies, or some such like thing; for he wrote to Maximus the Superintendent of justice in these terms:

These bloudy spectacles in the civil repose and * 2.185 domestick peace wherein we live, please me not at all. Behold the cause why I will wholly take away these combats of Gladiatours. For if there be such graceless wretches, who for the punish∣ment of their crimes deserve such a sentence and such condition, I ordain that you rather cause them to labour in the mynes, to the end that without effusion of bloud, they may feel the pain due to their demerits. Given at Berytus, the first day of October, under the Consulship of Paulinus and Julianus.

I leave you to think what this Monarch would * 2.186 have said of duels of this time, where they hasten to pour out willingly upon publick passages that bloud, which ought rather to be shed upon the walls of In∣fidels, to cement up the glory of the French.

O Lewis, our great Monarch, it seemeth the God of peace hath permitted the heads of this Hydra to have hitherto budded forth, that they might be made to fall under the innocency of your hands, di∣vinely destinated to so many good works. You have again very lately renewed your Edicts against this pestilence, assuring unto fathers and mothers the bloud of their children for the service of your Crown, and taking away a stain which stuck so ma∣ny years upon the brow of your Empire. Heaven and earth have participated in the contentment which hath succeeded from these good ordinances, as they do in the preservation of the lives of your subjects, and tranquility of your whole Realm. Let your Majesty so handle the matter, that this Law may hold with nails of adamant, and not loose a glory, which Constantine would have bought at the price of two Empires.

This brave Prince, who ever had been most chast, * 2.187 made also sharp war against the infamous ordures of lust: for he expelled from the Court, as vermine, certain effeminate men, who had made sale of their souls to dishonour, and at other times made a la∣mentable traffick of their bodies, insinuating them∣selves by this means, into the Palaces of Great-ones, and sometime into honourable rank. He degraded them all from Nobility, and forbad them to bear even the marks of men of Arms, tying them to ser∣vices the most contemptible. Besides, he caused to be taken from publick infamies, many poor Chri∣stian maids, that had been abandoned to evil by the form of punishment, making express inhibitions to

those villains, who live upon others sins, never to undertake the like practises. Briefly, he so abolished the crimes, which had been tolerated under the other Emperours, that S. Hierom writing upon Isaiah, hath given the title to Constantine, that his Empire had vanquished two monsters, the most dreadfull that were ever seen by destroying the infidelity and impu∣rity of the earth.

His prudence descended even to the moderating * 2.188 and changing the punishments of offenders, which had some disproportion; and among other things, he decreed, that characters should no more be imprinted upon the forehead of the miserable, for the respect that is due to the face of man, on the which God hath engraven his image. And moreover, for the honour he bare to the Gross, he forbade it should ever again be defiled with the punishments and executions of malefactours; thinking it unreasonable, that that which was matter of glory to Emperours, should likewise serve as an instrument for the pains of the unhappy. He suffered not any image to be made un∣to him, either in tables, statues, or coins, whereon the Cross was not ever set; such honour bare he to this * 2.189 venerable sign, which Hereticks have ever rejected, with as much malice as stupidity.

It were an infinite thing for him that would par∣ticularly decipher so many noble actions of our Con∣stantine. I content my self to have here set down that in brief, which might have been distended into many chapters, and to make many dishes of it, endea∣vouring to furnish out more substance for my Read∣er, than unprofitable amplifications.

The eleventh SECTION. The zeal of Constantine in the proceedings of the Councel of Nice.

THe Emperour Constantine had great cause to say, what he spake in Eusebius, That he was as the common Bishop of the Church out∣wardly; so much vigilance and zeal he exercised, to procure all which concerned the maintenance there∣of. Behold an accident happening under his reign, which more troubled Christendom, than ever did the torturing racks, the combs of iron, or boyling caul∣drons of Diocletian.

Theologie had been for a long time taught in the * 2.190 Citie of Alexandria, at which time a Priest named Ari∣us, held the regency; who had the reputation to be subtile in seeking out questions, which never had fal∣len into the thought of man: but otherwise was mali∣cious, and of an evil life. Out alas! that these extra∣vagant curiosities should bring, and daily also intro∣duce prejudice into the Church and repose of the people! It were to be wished that those, who through long idleness, and itch of vanity, amuze themselves to find out novelties in matter of belief, might rather handle the coulter in tillage, or the oar in gallies, than turn over books, and contaminate the honour of Divinity. Satan never found a spirit more fit to per∣plexe holy letters, and embroil Empires, than this wretched man of whom we speak.

Saint Epiphanius, who might often have seen him, * 2.191 saith, He was of a large body, of a sad countenance, covering under a mask of austerity, hydeous mon∣sters. He had an extream ambition to hold the high∣est place, and seeing that Alexander, a holy man, was preferred before him in the Episcopal Chair of Alex∣andria, he entered into desperate jealousies, searching out all possible means to crie down this Bishop, and raise calumnies against him, to dispossess him of his charge. And the life of this Alexander being so un∣spotted, that no least stain of reproach might be seen therein, he resolved to involve him in some captious disputations, thereby to accuse him to hold opinions not consonant to the doctrine of the Church. It happened that the Bishop in preaching and speaking of the Son of God, put him, as he ought, in equa∣lity of power and honour with his Celestial Father, calling him by the Greek word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉; whereup∣on this man sought to reprehend him, alledging some passages of scripture maliciously interpreted, of which he made use to establish the unhappy heresie, which denied that the Son was the same essence of God his Father, and took away from Jesus Christ the dia∣dem of the Eternal Divinity, by making him a meer creature.

Alexander, who was not a man of mean account, but such an one as to his sanctity of life, added solid doctrine, defended himself couragiously against the impostures of this malign spirit, very well justifying his belief touching the Divinity of our Saviour: which having been throughly proved in the Assem∣bly of an hundred Bishops, who were first of all called together for this purpose under Hosius, Legat of Pope Sylvester, he pronounced the sentence of ex∣communication against Arius and his complices. This wicked man, who burst with anger to see this con∣demnation passed against him by those whom he re∣puted to be infinitely under him in ability, put him∣self into the field with very much ostent; the differ∣ences he lately had with these Prelates, making him understand his Divinity, was odious, if he there∣in used not some colour to disguise the malice there∣of. He also practised so many wiles, that he dazel∣ed the eyes even of those, who were men very ea∣pable: for after he had deduced his reasons with a great facility of words, and large quantity of speci∣ous passages, and that he thereunto added a cold countenance, counterfeiting himself a modest man, persecuted for the truth, he trained spirits not vulgar to the love of his novelties. All the very same pro∣ceedings have been seen with the Herericks of this time, and if so many corrupt souls had not wholly enclined to their own ruin, God gave them suffi∣cient examples in elder evils to avoid the new. We * 2.192 may well say when we behold these schisms and he∣resies to arise, that there is some comet of the king∣dom of darkness, which insensibly throweth plague and poison into hearts. It is a strange thing that a little sparkle let fall in Alexandria, caused instantly so many fires, that having invaded Aegypt, Lybia, The∣bais, and Palestine, they in the end involved almost the whole world. No man at that time cared how to live, but every one was ready to dispute. Bishops bandying against Bishops, drew the people distracted with opinions: The Churches, houses, and Theaters ecchoed in the sharpness of contentious disputations, and the Cities forgetting all other miseries, rent one another for the interpretation of a word. Arius, to gain support, instantly seeketh for favour from the Court. And knowing that Eusebius Bishop of Ni∣comedia was of great credit, he used all the flatteries, of which this man was capable enough, to gain him to his side. This Eusebius was eminently furnished with all those dispositions and industries, which the most subtile Hereticks have at any time exercised to trouble the Church of God. He was verily one of the worst men then in the Empire, since he had sold his soul to ambition, so much the more pernicious as it was covered with a veil of Religion. It is true which the Hebrews say, that Vineger is an ill son of a good father, for it is commonly made of the best wine: so there is nothing more sincere than an Eccle∣siastick, who liveth in the duty of his profession; but when corruption falleth thereinto, and that he hath once degenerated, there is not a worse sharpness, nor

a more dangerous malice. Religion served this wic∣ked man as a buskin for all feet, for it had no other bounds, but that of his own interests; and he ever, like weather-cocks on the top of steeples, turned his face on what side soever the wind blew.

In the persecutions of Christendom he made him∣self an Idolater; in the garboyls of Lycinius he leaned much to his side; and when he saw Constantine abso∣lute in the Empire, never was man more plyable to flatter him. Doubtless he had all the qualities we have seen in Luther, Calvin, and so many other new Sects, who have still sought favour from Great-ones by wyles and most perillous charms. So wanted he not excellent parts, and great eminencies; for he had a spirit very subtile, speech cunning, a face which spake before his tongue, and as for his extraction, he soared so high, as to make himself the kins-man of Caesars. The air he desired to breath was the Court, and his Bishoprick when he was absent, seemed to him a ba∣nishment. Behold the cause, why he drew near to the center of the Empire as much as he could, in such sort, that being first Bishop of Berytus, he put himself forward to the chair of Nicomedia, afterward took the heart of the Kingdom, and in the end setled him∣self in the Royal Constantinople.

This alteration of chairs had in this time a very ill savour, and this life of Court so passionately affected by an Ecclesiastick not called thereunto, could not in any sort find approbation among good men. Great personages are sometimes very lawful∣ly in Court, for the service of Kings and publick necessities, but they are thereas the birds of Baruch up∣on * 2.193 white thorns, as the Gyants of holy Job, which mourned under the waters, as those sweet fount∣ains found in the salt Sea. An ambitious man, who heweth down mountains to arrive thither, and liveth not exemplary, deserveth to be regarded therein as a fish out of his element, or the pyde bird whereof Jeremie speaketh, whom all the rest assailed with * 2.194 beak and talon.

Eusebius notwithstanding little regarded the repu∣tation of a good Prelate, so that he might arrive to the height of his enterprizes. To insinuate himself the more into the good liking of the Emperour, he gained Constantia sister of Constantine, and widow of Lycinius, as Calvin did afterward the sister of Francis the first. The good Lady, who being despoiled of Empire by the death of her husband, and had no lon∣ger so much employment to number the pearls of her Diadem, would needs then intermedle with curious devotion, and dispute on the mysteries of the holy Trinity. Constantine after the death of S. Helena his mother, held her at his Court with much respect, that she might the more easily digest the acerbities she had conceived in the loss of her husband, and much ea∣sier was it to entertain her in the affairs of the Church, than in those of Empires. Besides, he found it not amiss that she might busie her self in the doubt∣full questions of Bishops. So pursuing the Genius of her curious spirit, she passed so far, that she became an Arian by the practises of this Eusebius, who ha∣ving already gotten credit with her, spake to her of Arius, as of a worthy man persecuted by his own side, for his great abilities; and explicating to her his do∣ctrine in popular terms, which said there was no ap∣parence how a son could be made as old as his father, and that poor Arius had been banished from Alexan∣dria, for that he would not sign this proposition, this drew compassion from her.

The spirit of Constantia tainted with this doctrine, began already to cast an evil odour upon the Empe∣rour her brother; and Eusebius coming thereupon to make recital of that which passed in Alexandria be∣tween Alexander and Arius, set such a face upon the whole business, that he made, as it is said, the Sun with a cole, figuring out the good Prelate Alexander as a passionate man, who could not endure an excel∣cellent spirit in his Bishoprick.

'Tis a pitifull thing that great men see not the truth, but through the passions of those that serve them. This poor Alexander, who was a holy old man, and grown white in the exercises of Religion, was then presented to the Emperour by the information of Eusebius, as a fool, who under a grizled head had extravagancies of youth; in such sort, that Constantine * 2.195 vouchsafing to write unto him, taxed him as the au∣thour of this tumult, in that he put a frivolous que∣stion into consultation, and gave occasion of dispute, which could never have proceeded but from abund∣ance of idleness. And as for Arius, he said of him, that he gave too much scope to his spirit upon a subject, which might much better have been concealed. And for the rest, they should be both reconciled, mutually pardoning each other, and hereafter hindering all manner of disputations upon the like occasion.

Alexander, who had done nothing but by the Coun∣cel of an hundred Bishops, seeing himself treated in a worse condition than Arius was, in the Empe∣rours letters, and considering the blasphemy, which this Heretick had vomited against the Divinity of the Word, was reputed as a trifle, thought verily they had endeavoured to envenom the spirit of Con∣stantine, to the prejudice of the truth. For this cause he informed the other Bishops, and namely Pope Syl∣vester, of the justice of his cause, answering very per∣tinently to the calumnies objected against him. On * 2.196 the other side Eusebius, who beheld the integrity of this holy Bishop with an ill eye, and who had very far engaged himself to maintain Arius, embroiled the af∣fairs at Court, as much as his credit might permit. In the end, the disputation was so enkindled through the Christian world, that needs must a general Coun∣cel be held to determine it.

Three hundred and eighteen Bishops are assembled * 2.197 at Nice, a Citie of Bithynia, by the approbation of Pope Sylvester, at the request of the Emperour Constan∣tine, who invited the most eminent by express letters, and gave very singular direction, as wel for their jour∣ney as their reception. Never was there seen a good∣lier company. It was a Crown, not of pearls nor dia∣monds, but of the rarest men of the world, who came from all parts like bees, bearing (as saith S. Augustine) honey in their mouths, and wax in their hands. There you might behold Venetians, Arahians, Aegyptians, Scy∣thians, Thracians, Africans, Persians, not speaking of Western Bishops, who were there already in no small number. It was a most magnificent spectacle to be∣hold on one side venerable old men, white as swans, who still bare upon their bodies the scars of iron and persecution, which were invincible testimonies of their constancy: on the other, men who had the gift of miracles, so much as to force the power of death, and tear from him the dead out of their tombs: on the other part, men accomplished in Theologie and eloquence, who in opening their mouthes seemed to unfold the gate of a Temple, full of wonders and beauties. There was to be found that great S. James of Nisibis, Paphnutius, and Potamion. There was Ho∣sius, S. Nicholas the first, Gregorie the father of our Nazianzen, Spiridion, and so many other worthymen. The good Pope S. Sylvester could not be present ther∣at, by reason of the decrepitness of his age, but sent thither three Legats, Hosius, Vitus, and Vincentius. The Emperour received them all most lovingly, kissing the scars of some, and admiring the sanctity of others, never satisfying himself with the modesty and good discourse of all, both in particular and general. A∣mong these children of God, were likewise some Sa∣tans, adherents to Arius, who discovered in their eyes and countenances the passions of their hearts.

These turbulent spirits fearing the aspect of this awfull assembly, softly suggested divers calumnies to surprize the spirit of the Emperour, which very naturally retained much goodness. And for this pur∣pose they presented to him many requests, and ma∣ny papers charged with complaints and accusations upon pretended domages. Verily these proceedings were sufficient to divert this Prince from the love he bare to our Religion, were it not that through the grace of God, he had already taken very deep root in the faith.

In the end, to do an act worthy of his Majesty, beholding himself to be daily burdened with wri∣tings, wherein these passionate Bishops spake of no∣thing but their own interests, he advised them to set down all their grievances, and all the satisfactions which they pretended to draw from those who had offended them, and present them on a day design∣ed. They failed not to confound him with libels and supplications: but this grave Monarch putting them into his bosom, said openly: Behold a large * 2.198 proportion of Accusations, all which must be transfer∣red to the judgement of God, who will judge them in the latter day. As for my self, I am a man, nor is it my profession to take notice of such causes, where those that accuse, and such as be accused, are Bishops. Let us, I pray you, for this time, leave these affairs, and treat we the points, for which this Councel is here assembled: onely let every one, following therein the Divine clemen∣cie, pardon all that is past, and make an absolute recon∣ciliation for the time to come. When he had spoken this, he took all the civil requests presented unto him, and caused them to be cast into the fire; which was much applauded by all those who had their judge∣ments discharged from partialities.

In the mean space, the Bishops before they entered into the Councel, took time to examine the propo∣sitions that were to be handled, and leisurably to in∣form themselves of the pretensions of Arius, who was there present, and who already felt the vehemency of the vigour of S. Athanasius, though he was yet but a Deacon in the Church of Alexandria.

The day of the Councel being come, the Bishops assembled in the great Hall of the Palace, where ma∣ny benches were set, both on the one side and other. Every one taketh his place according to his rank. Baronius thinketh the Legats of the Pope were seat∣ed on the left hand, as in the most honourable seats; which he very pertinently proveth. In the first place on the right hand, sat the venerable Bishop Eustatius, who was to begin the prayer, and carry relations to the Emperour. The Bishops remained silent for a * 2.199 while, expecting his coming; and suddenly he ap∣peared, not accompanied with any Guard or soul∣diers, but with a small number of friends. Eusebius, who was there present, saith in his History, that ne∣ver was any thing seen more admirable than the per∣son of this Monarch, at the meeting of this Coun∣cel. For besides that he was of a most gallant stature, and a singular presence, he was delighted to hold it as it were enchased in rich attire. The purple where∣with he then was clothed, mingling the lustre there∣of with the rays of precious stones, which sparkled on his head, made reflections of grace and majesty arise in the eyes of all the beholders. He passed through the middle of the Assembly, and all the Prelates rose up to do him reverence. Then being come unto his place, he stood upright, expecting from the Bishops a sign given him to sit, which be∣ing done, and prayer ended, he sat down upon a golden chair very low, which was placed in the mid∣dle, to the end he might be encompassed with so great a number of Saints, as a Palm with a row of Cedars. The others also being seated near him, Eustatius, sele∣cted out to open the Councel, stood up, and made an Oration, whereof we find some pieces in Gregorie a Priest of Caesarea, which import thus much:

We have very much obligation, O sacred Majestie, to * 2.200 render immortal thanks to the living God, in that he hath made choice of your person to put the Empire of the world into your hands, and that by your means de∣stroying idolatrie, he hath exalted the glorie of his Al∣tars, and established Christianitie in that tranquilitie which we presently enjoy.

It is an act from the right hand of the Omnipotent, which we durst not hope for in our days, if God had not made you to be born for the good of the universal world. It is a prodigie to have seen you in a short time to calm so many tempests, disperse so many smoaks of sacrifices to de∣vils, extirpate so many horrible superstitions, and enlight∣en such cloudie darkness with the rays of the knowledge of the true God.

The world, which was before polluted with ordures, is purified, the name of Saviour is known to Nations the most barbarous: The Father is glorified, the Son adored, the Holy Ghost declared; a Trinitie consubstantial, that is to say, one same Divinitie in three Persons, is acknow∣ledged by all the faithfull.

That is it, O sacred Majestie, which supporteth the greatness of your Empire with those three fingers of power, wherewith it holdeth the mass of the earth, poized as it were to serve as a basis. As your felicitie is inseparably tyed to its honour, so ought you to re∣verence, defend, and invincibly protect all that, which concerneth the glorie thereof.

Behold a strange accident, and which is to us more sen∣sible than the persecution of Diocletian. They go about to dis-member the Trinitie, and thrust the knife of divi∣sion into its throne. One Arius, who hath taken his name from furie, a wolf bred among us in a sheeps skin, a Priest of Alexandria, an enemie of the doctrine of Apostles and Prophets, hath proclaimed war against the Son of God, endeavouring to deprive him of the essence, honour, and power, which he holdeth equal from all eternitie with his heavenly Father.

This is it which hath assembled us here to condemn his errour, and most humbly to beseech your Majestie, that when you have heard the opinions of all these great men here present, you will hold a steadie hand upon the pre∣servation of Apostolical doctrine, and command all those to be cut from our body, who will persever in their damn∣able opinions, to the end we may breath the Christian air in all liberty, which the world beginneth already so sweetly to taste under the happiness of your reign.

Then was the time, saith S. Hierom, when the first trumpet began to sound against Arius After the good Bishop of Antioch had ended, the Emperour behold∣ing all the assembly with a very gracious aspect, spake in Latin, to retain the majesty of the Roman Empire, and in a moderate tone, those words which are cou∣ched in Eusebius, the sense whereof we render:

Venerable Fathers, I must needs affirm, that I never * 2.201 desired any thing more passionately, than to enjoy your sweet presences; and infinitely am I bound to God, that he hath accomplished my desires, granting me a blessing that I prefer before all the happiness in the world, which is, to see you all here assembled, and united in will, for the glory of God, and peace of the Church. I pray you, suffer not the storm to surprize us in the haven, thereby to snatch from us the comfort, which we already have in our hands; and if God hath given us victorie against Tyrants, let us not turn our arms against our selves, to tear out our proper entrails. It is most certain these do∣mestick troubles are much more to be feared than all the hostilities in the world. The sword of persecution can dissever nothing but members; but these divisions tend to the subversion of souls; which maketh them so much the more dangerous beyond common wars, as the spirit is above the body.

God having afforded me so many victories, and so ma∣ny prosperities, I proposed to my self there remained no∣thing from me to ask of him, but an humble acknowledge∣ment of his benefits, and leisure to rejoyce with those whom I saw through his favour in repose, sheltered under the good success of mine arms, and the authority of my Laws. It hath been a grief very sensible unto me to un∣derstand of those revolutions, which have passed in our Citie of Alexandria, and which have afterward disper∣sed themselves through the rest of Christendom. I have done all that possibly I might in the beginning to stop them, but seeing the evil increased with so much danger, I have called you hither to apply the last remedy. I be∣seech you, O venerable Priests of the living God, to pre∣serve among your selves that concord, which I think I may read in your countenances, and not to suffer your selves to be deprived of the benefit of peace, since the Divine pro∣vidence hath selected you to establish it upon Altars, by your prayers for all the rest of the world. Cut off speedi∣ly the root of evil, and sweetly pacifie these troubles of the Church: you shall do a thing most acceptable to God; and as for my self, who am your fellow servant, I shall hold me obliged as for a singular benefit.

The Interpreter explicated the Oration of the Em∣perour in the Greek tongue: Then the propositions of Arius were read. At the reading whereof the most part of the Bishops stopped their ears for horrour, as afterward S. Athanasius observed. From thence they proceeded to opinions, where the disputation was en∣kindled on both sides. Constantine afforded a singular attention to all that was said, peaceably entertained sentences, encouraged all the world, sweetened acer∣bities which might slide into the heat of contention, and guided all the affairs to peace. In the end, Arius * 2.202 is condemned, and a form of faith conceived for the equality of the Word with the Father, whereat ma∣ny Arians much amazed, failed not to strike sail, and yield themselves to the plurality of voices, fearing least their contestation might ruin their reputation with the Emperour. It is thought Eusebius the Hi∣storiographer was of this number; a man of the time, who knew how to comply readily with the humour of those, who had authority and force in their hands. As for the other Eusebius, Bishop of Nicomedia, who had maintained the faction of Arius with much pas∣sion, he saw himself shamefully fallen from the opi∣nion of his great credit, and durst not refuse to sign the doctrine of the Councel. Greatly was he streight∣ned in another Session, to pronounce excommunicati∣on upon Arius his creature, saying he was consenting to the decision of the Councel, under shadow of some perplexed words, which he made use of to cover his opinion. The fathers shutting up their eyes to all hu∣man reasons, and fortifying their arms against favour, surprized this Eusebius, and Theognis Bishop of Nice, in the condemnation of Arius which they would not sign, declaring them upō this refusal, deprived of their Bishopricks. They interposed the authority of the Emperour, who suspended the execution, on such condition, that they gave satisfaction to the Councel.

Never were men more humbled, namely Eusebius; who thought himself the all-predominant; for he was constrained speedily to retire, and address his request to the Bishops, in terms most suppliant, in which he protested wholly to submit himself to the decrees of the Councel; yet notwithstanding he spared not to embroil matters with an infinity of wiles and malice, which made the Emperour open his eyes to confirm their sentence who had condemned him, and send him into banishment, with subrogation of another in his place, though he afterward by ordinary submis∣sion was repealed. At that time happened a marvel∣lous labyrinth of affairs, in which began the combats of great S. Athanasius, which are to take up another * 2.203 History besides this, it extending much further be∣yond the years of Constantine. As for the success of Arius, after the banishment of ten years, he still inter∣medling with factions, found means to be heard in an∣other Councel of Jerusalem, where feigning a peni∣tence artificially counterfeited, he handled the matter so by the practises of Eusebius, who was then in fa∣vour, that he was absolved, with commandment given to the good Alexander, Bishop of Constantinople, to re∣ceive him into the communion of the Church.

The holy Prelate stoutly refused it, knowing well it was an hypocrisie, which tended to annul the de∣crees of the Councel of Nice, and bring confusion in∣to the Church. But Eusebius of Nicomedia ceased not to make armed inhibitions, threatening that in case of refusal, he would deprive him of his Bishoprick. He, who cared not so much for the loss of his dignity, as the safety of the Church, forsook all these subtilities of Theologie, and exhorting his people to a fast of se∣ven days, by the counsel of S. James of Nisibis, who was then present, spared not to macerate his body with austerities, and present to God day and night his humble supplications to divert this scourge. In the end, the affair being very shortly to be determin∣ed, he prostrated his face against the earth, before the Altar, and said: My God, if it be true, that Arius ought to morrow to be received into the communion of the faithfull, I beseech you let your poor servant Alexan∣der go in peace, and not loose the faithfull people with the wicked. But if you be resolved to preserve your Church, and I may be assured you will do it, look on the threats of Eusebius, and deliver not your inheritance to the scorn of the wicked: but rather take Arius out of this world, lest we receiving him, may seem to introduce heresie and impiety into your house.

The next day Arius went early in the morning * 2.204 from the Emperours Palace, very well accompanied with Eusebius, and walked in pomp through the streets of Constantinople. He was a man more subtile than confident, and it is thought the apprehensions he had of the issue of this combat, put terrour in him, and this terrour caused him to step out of the way. Behold the cause, why being by chance in the market∣place of Constantinople, he retired into a publick place of ease, to satisfie the necessities of nature. Socrates holdeth, he cast forth a great quantity of bloud, and thereupon falling into a swoon, not being able to be holpen, he yielded up his wicked soul by a just pu∣nishment from Heaven, leaving to posterity a perpe∣tual detestation of his life, with a horrour of the very place of his death.

Eusebius caused the body to be intrerred, Alexander breathed again, and all the Church triumphed upon the admiration of the judgements of God, seeing that he, who had raised so many bloudy tragedies, was dead in his own bloud; and after he had infected the soundest parts of the world with his poison, vomited up his contagious soul in the publick infections, drawing on his criminal head the execration of all Ages.

The twelfth SECTION. The government of Constantine.

HAving shewed unto you the greatness of Con∣stantine * 2.205 in matters of Religion, let us now be∣hold it in his politick government. It is no slight note of the vigour of his spirit, that he enter∣prized to make another Rome, and so prosperously to have perfected this his design.

There is found among the Gentiles a certain E∣pigram in the ruines of ancient Rome, which said: It stood in need of Gods to make it, but there was but one God necessary to destroy it. What may

we say of the courage, prudence, happy success of the Emperour in the establishment of Constantinople? We will not make him a God, as the Pagans, but say he was a man singularly assisted by the providence of God, in the greatness of his undertaking.

He perceived in this new change of Religion there were in Rome many harsh spirits, and that even among the principal, whom he could not reclaim to Christianity, as his zeal fervently desired. Behold, whether desirous to consecrate to God a place bet∣ter purified from Idols, where he might be served with more consent and better judgement, or whe∣ther he were transported with the desire of honour, and the memory of posterity, he resolved to build a City, which should bear his name, and be as it were the master-piece of a great Monarch.

For this purpose he had some desire to build on the ruins of Troy the Great, thinking the fame of the place, renowned for its unhappiness through all the parts of the habitable world, might contribute somewhat to the glory of his name: but he having laid the foundations, God gave him notice in sleep, that this was not the place appointed him, and that he necessarily must change the countrey: whereat being much amazed, yet still persisting in his design, as not throughly satisfied upon the will of God, it is held, the tools and instruments of work-men were insensibly transported over the sea to the other shore, and that an Eagle setling upon the Level of the Master-Architect, took it up, and hastened to bear it directly to Byzantium; for that is the City, whither * 2.206 Constantine, forsaking the ruins of Troy, transferred his great designs. It had heretofore been a very fair City, but as arms strike at all which is eminent, so had it been infinitely ransacked by many wars happening in the revolution of affairs and Ages. Yet it still sup∣ported it self with some manner of reputation, when this great Prince determined to amplify, enrich, and perfect it throughly, there to fix the seat of his Empire.

It is added, that himself marched round about the wals, holding in his hand a half-pike, designing the circuit of his future Constantinople; and as he still went measuring up and down by the aym of his eye, one of his favourites said to him: Emperour, how long will it be ere you make an end? I will finish, saith he, when he stayes that goeth before me: Which made men think there was some heavenly intelli∣gence, that conducted his enterprize. At the same time he thought he saw in sleep a very ancient Lady, which in an instant was turned into a most beautiful vir∣gin, whom he adorned, and attyred, setting his Dia∣dem on her head. Observe what is said of the be∣ginnings of Constantinople: whether such things hap∣pened with all these circumstances, or whether we naturally love to tell some strange tales in favour of antiquity; as if these fictions were able to give it the more credit. One thing is most undoubted, which Zosimus, although an enemy to Constantine, is enforced to admire, that the manage of this great design was so prosperous, that in five or six years a goodly City was seen on foot, which extended about one league in circuit beyond the walls of By∣zantium.

Constantine, who had a holy desire to equal it to ancient Rome, spared nothing of all that, which the invention of men might find out, courage undertake, and power execute. He there built Palaces, Thea∣ters, Amphitheaters, Cirques, Galleries, and other edi∣fices, infinitely admirable, so that S. Hierom had rea∣son to say, that Constantine to attyre his Constanti∣nople despoiled all the other Provinces.

It is a Maxim among Great-ones, that to make a huge Dragon, it is fit he first devour many little serpents; and to raise a great City, many much less must be ruined to serve for food unto it. The great∣nesses of God are good deeds, those of the world are naturally destructions; for they eat and de∣vour their neighbours, as the tree which we call the Ivie, which insensibly draweth the juice of plants growing near unto it. It is not expedient there should be many greatnesses in the world, they would drie rivers up, as did the army of Xerxes, and would im∣poverish each other by their mutual contestations. Yet notwithstanding needs must there be Majesty in the civil world, to the proportion of elementary. And for this cause God made Kings, taking a pat∣tern from himself, & commandeth we honour them as his living images: Kings make the greatnesses of the world, which are the effects of their powers: Needs must there be a Constantinople that posterity may see Constantine on the back side of the medal, for I think his virtues have represented him on the other side very honourable.

At the least, it is a thing exceeding laudable, and well considered by S. Augustine, that in this infinite store of Pagans, which he must yet of necessity tole∣rate, the Emperour permitted not either Temples of Idols, Sacrifices, or Pagan ceremonies. Well might he be curious to cause from all parts to be brought ancient statues of marble, brass, and other matter, which represented Jupiter, Cybile, Mercury, Apollo, Castor and Pollux, and so many false Divinities, which he set up in Theaters, Amphitheaters, or Races, where the courses of horses were used, and in other publick places. Eusebius, followed by Baronius hol∣deth, it was to expose them to the scorn of the peo∣ple, which is very hard to believe: for I should ra∣ther think, that these pieces, being the most exquisit workmanships of the world, and that Constantine vehemently desiring the beauty of this City, could not then resolve upon such a Jewish zeal, as to break and deface them; but contented himself with the distribution of them into profane places to give lustre to his enterprizes. Yet must we say, that though we at this present, are out of the danger of Idolatry, rich men of this Age have no reason to set up so, readily in their Halls and cabiners, Jun••'s, Venuses, and Diana's, and so many histories of the * 2.207 Metamorphosis, with scandalous nakedness. Tertul∣lian, an eager spirit, pursueth all this as a crime, and proveth in the book he composed of Idolatry, that all those who cooperate in such works, do worse, than if they sacrificed to Idols the bloud of beasts.

For they offer (saith he) their spirit, their industry, their travel, and their estate to Sathan; and though they have no intention of sin, they minister matter to other of offending God.

Behold the cause, why Constantine, although he were in an Age wherein Paganism being still in much request, it was very difficult to take away all these figures, notwithstanding he disguised them as much as he could; witness, that a great statue of Apollo being brought to Constantinople, one of the best pieces that ever had been seen in those elder times, he caused a Constantine to be made of this Apollo, changing it into his own image, and commanding some parcels of the venerable nails of our Saviour to be enchased over his head. It is in my opinion to this same image that he added a golden globe in the hand thereof, and over it a Cross with this in∣scription: Tibi, Christe, Urbem commendo. Besides, he made three Crosses to be erected, the most magnifi∣cent that might then be imagined, & set in the midst of a publick place the statue of the Prophet Daniel among the Lions, all covered over with plates of gold, to represent a figure of the Resurrection. And as for his Palace, he caused to be pourtraid at the very entrance thereof the history of the Passion in a most exquisit work, wrought and tissued with pre∣tious stones, very much resembling Mosayk work. All of it being finished, he made the dedication of

the City on the tenth of May, and as it is very probably supposed, the five and twentieth of his Empire, con∣secrating it to God, in memory of the glorious Vir∣gin Mary, and doing great acts of liberty to the people, which he commanded by his Edicts to be continued for perpetuity. Codin addeth, that he caus∣ed also sumptuous edifices there to be built for the Christians Senatours, which he drew from the City, and made them so like their lodgings they had at Rome, that they were so ravished therewith, as it see∣med their houses by miracle had been transferred from Rome to Constantinople. The two chief Church∣es were those of the Apostles, and of S. Sophia, to whom Constantine gave beginning, but the greatness of the work is due to the Emperour Justinian.

Our great Monarch, who had his eye open over all, forgot not to establish a good Colledge in his City, whereunto he drew the choise of learned men in all professions, dignifying and adorning it with immunities and great priviledges, in such sort, that Aurelius Victor called him the nursing-Father of lear∣ning; and pursuing this design, he took a particular care to erect a good Library, and above all to fur∣nish it with good store of holy books, well written, the superintendency whereof he gave to Eusebius of Caesarea.

Behold the estate of his Constantinople, which he by Edict commanded to be called New Rome, and Sozomen assureth, that in multitude of people, in abun∣dance and riches, it surpassed the ancient: which is not very hard for any to believe, who will consider Rome in the absence of Emperours being then but as a Palace disinhabited; yet could not Baronius en∣dure S. Gregory Nazianzens speech, who said Con∣stantinople as much in his time excelled the other Cities, as Heaven surpasseth earth.

This would suffice to shew the politick prudence of great Constantine; but it shineth also in other points, of which I think this to be most considerable, that he held for the space of thirty years an Empire so great, in a time wherein the Emperours had or∣dinarily so short a reign, that they resembled those creatures, which enjoyed but one day of life, in an age, when the people were so apt to revolt, that the sea had not more agitations, than all Kingdoms had vicissitudes; in an establishment of Religon very new, wherein commotions are commonly most dan∣gerous. We may well say this Prince had something in him above all that which is humane, to cement together an Empire of so long continuance, in affairs so discordant.

It is true, that he tolerated the sects of Pagans for meer necessity, otherwise he must have killed the whole world to make a new of it. The wise Prince well saw it was a thing impossible to annihi∣late superstition in an instant, which had taken such deep root for a thousand years, about which time Rome was built; but in this civil peace, which he gave to all the East, he insensibly undermined the foundations of impiety, and verily by little and little it perished in his hands. His spirit sparkling like a fire could not rest, [but seeing the Magistrates of the Empire were moreover busie, yet not discharging the duty of their places, and that by the greatness of their power they made themselves too absolute, he alter∣ed the whole government, dividing their charges, and multiplying the offices of the Empire: For which Zosimus blameth him, not considering it was the policy of Augustus Caesar, reputed one of the most ablest Princes of the world; and that he, who will consider the state of the Empire established by Con∣stantine, shall find so much order in this great diver∣sity, so much wisdom in inventions; so much courage in executions, so much stability in continuance, that he shall have more cause to admire the deep coun∣sels of the Emperour, than find what to blame in his government. The same Zosimus, as a Courtier and a Pagan, extreamly displeased with great liberalities which Constantine exercised towards the Churches, furiously taxeth him upon the matter of tributes, * 2.208 saying. He invented new, and exacted them with much violence.

And yet notwithstanding there are no tributes under Constantine, the use whereof is not observed to have been in the Age of the former Emperours▪ For concerning the impost of a certain sum of gold and silver paid by merchants from four years to four, which the Grecians called Chrysargyros, although the name were then new, the manner of it could not be so, since the Historiographer Lampri∣dius, in the life of Alexander Severus, makes mention of the gold of merchants. And as for that which was also imposed upon prostitute women, it was like∣wise under the reign of the same Alexander: So that he who will compare that, which is done before Constantine, and that after him in this article, shall there find much moderation in his proceedings. For so far was it from him to surcharge the people, that he gave a relaxation of the fourth part of tributes; which is so much, as if a King after the space of four years passed, should free his people for a year from ordinary subsides, which would be no small liberality. Now concerning the violence whereof this man complaineth, the Edicts of Constantine testifie, that he would not have any man to be so much as impri∣soned for monies due to his coffers. True it is, he had * 2.209 a list of the names of men of quality in the Empire, with a taxe of their revenews, to enforce them to publick necessities, and by this means discharge the poor. Otherwise it is well known this Prince was * 2.210 so zealous for justice, that he would not suffer even the letters of favour obtained from him, should have any power to the prejudice of ancient laws. And that if any of his favourites had a process, and would beg of him to interpose his authority for him, he would leave him to justice, willing rather to afford him coin out of his coffer, than one sole word of favour, which might dispose the Judges to bend the ballance more to one side than another. He had his eye upon his Officers, and retained them in their duties, discovering and chastising corruptions, and banishing with his whole endeavour all crimes that were against the law of God, and publick tran∣quility.

He was much seconded in the administration of affairs by the diligence of Ablavius, the greatest fa∣vourite of the Prince, and Superintendent of Justice, who was verily a man of Judgement, had he not ble∣mished the gifts of God with unfatiable avarice.

He was surnamed The Baloon of fortune, for the many changes which happened in his person. For it is held, that he was of very base extraction, born in Constantinople, then called Byzantium; and that a Mathematician arrived in this City, upon the instant the mother of Ablavius was to be delivered. This man weary of his way, and very hungry, went into an Inne where he cals for dinner: his hostess was very busie to provide it for him, at which time one came to entreat her to assist a neighbour of hers in her child∣birth, for she practiced the office of a Midwife. This made her forsake her guest, to help the poor creature, who was said to be in great danger if she gave not remedy. The business being dispatched, she returned to her guest, who was very angry, and murmured with much impatience. She to appease him excused herself upon the necessity of the accident happened: but this notable Astrologer, hearing speech of the birth of a child, forsooke the pot and glass which he dearly loved, and endeavoured to set the Horos∣cope of this Ablavius, newly come into the world. And thereupon said to the hostess. Go, tell your neighbour, she hath brought forth a son to day, who

shall be all, and have all, but the dignity of an Empe∣rour.

I think with Eunapius, that such tales are rather made after events, to give credit to judicial Astro∣logy, than to say they have any foundation upon truth. It is not known by what means he was advanced, but he came into so great an esteem, that he govern∣ed the whole Empire under Constantine, who freely made use of him, as of a man discreet and vigilant in affairs, though much displeased to see him too eager in his proper interests. And it is said, that walk∣ing one day with him, he took a stick in his hand, and drew the length of five or six foot on the earth; then turning towards his creature Ablavius, why so much sweat and travel? In the end of all, neither I nor thou shall have more than this, nay thou dost not know whether thou shalt have it or no.

He was the cause by his factions that Constantine al∣most caused one day three innocent Captains to be punished with death, being ill inform'd, had it not been that S. Nicholas then living, appeared in a dream the same night to Constantine and Ablavius, threatning if they proceeded any further, God would chastise them, which made them stay execution.

Ablavius notwithstanding was so tyed to the earth, that the words and examples of his Master had small power over his soul, in such sort, that he had an unhappy end, ordinary with those who abuse the favours of God.

For after the death of Constantine, Constantius who succeeded in the Empire of his father, taking this man as it were for a Pedagogue, so much autho∣rity had he assumed unto himself, and thinking he could not free himself of his minority but by the death of Ablavius, caused him miserably to be but∣chered, sending two for executours of this com∣mission, men suborned, who saluted him with great submissions, and knees bended to the earth, in man∣ner of Emperour. He, who before had married one of the daughters of the Emperour Constans, brother of Constantius, thinking they would raise him to the dignity of Caesar, asked where the purple was. They answered they had no commission to give it him, but that those who should present it were at his chamber dore. He commandeth them to be speedily brought in: These were armed men, who approach∣ing near unto him, instead of the purple, inflicted a purple death, transfixing him with their swords, and renting him as a Sacrifice.

If the poor man following his Masters example; had been willing to set limits upon his fortune, and taken shelter at least in the storm, to meditate upon the affairs of his conscience, he would the less have been blamed: but natural desires have this pro∣per, that they are bounded by nature which made them. The fantasies of ambition, which grew from our opinions have no end, no more than opinion subsistence. For what bounds will you give to the falsehood and lying of a miserable vanity, which fil∣leth the spirit with illusion, and the conscience with crimes? When one goeth the right way, he findeth an end: but when he wandereth a-cross the fields, he makes steps without number, errours without mea∣sure, and miseries without remedy.

The thirteenth SECTION The death of Constantine.

IT seemeth great men who have lived so well, should never die, and that it were very fit they still did, what they once have done so happily. But as they entred not into life by any other way than that of birth, as men, so must they issue out from this ordinary residence of mortals, as other men.

Constantine had already reigned thirty and one years, and was in the threescore and third of his age, living otherwise in a prosperous old age, and having a body exceedingly well disposed to the functions of life; for he incessantly travelled in the duty of his charge, without any inconvenience, ordering military matters in his mind, instituting laws, hear∣ing embassages, reading, writing, discoursing, to the admiration of all the world.

This good Prince earnestly desired the conversi∣on of all the great-ones of his Court. Behold why, not satisfied with giving them example of a perfect life, he inflamed them to good with powerful words, which were to souls, as thunder-claps to Hinds, not for the delivery of a beast, but the production of salvation.

A little before his death, he pronounced in his Palace to those of his Court a very elegant Orati∣on of the immortality of the soul, of the success of good and evil, of the providence of God in the recompence of pure souls, of the terrour of his justice upon the incredulous and reprobate. This divine man handled these discourses with so much fervour and devotion, that he seemed to have his ear al∣ready in heaven, to understand mysteries, and enjoy an antipast of Paradise.

A while after he felt some little inequality of temperature in his body, which was with him very extraordinary, so sound and well composed he was. Thereupon he was taken with a fever somewhat violent, and causing himself to be carried to the baths, he remained not long there: for little regar∣ding the health of his body in comparison of the contentment of his soul, he was possessed with a great desire to go to Drepanum in Bythinia, a Citie which he surnamed of his good mother, where was the bo∣die of S. Lucian the Martyr, to which he had a par∣ticular devotion.

He being transported into this desired place, felt in this heart an alacrity wholly celestial, and for a long time remained in the Church notwithstanding the indisposition of his body, fervently praying for his own salvation, and the universal repose of his Empire. From thence he went directly to a Palace which he had in the suburbs of Nichomedia, where feeling the approaches of death, he disposed him∣self for his last hour, with the marks of a piety truly Christian. His Princes and Captains who heard him speak of death, being desirous to divert his mind from this thought, said, He was become too necessary for all the world, and that the prayers of all men would prolong his life. But he, Of what do you speak to me, as if it were not true life, to die to so many dead things, to live with my Saviour? No this heer is not a death, but a passage to immortality. If you love me, hinder not my way; one cannot go too soon to God. This spoken, he disposed of his last Will with a constant judgement and couragious resolution, declaring in his Testament the estate of affairs he would establish, even in the least particulars, and very well remem∣bring all his good servants, for whom he ordained pensions and rewards for every one according to his merit.

He divided the Empire between his three sons, at that time absent; and having distributed their seve∣ral shares with great providence, he gave to Con∣stantius the Empire of the East, leaving a Will seal∣ed with his own signet in the hands of a certain Priest, whom he appointed to deliver it immediately to his son, which he did: and afterward Constantius so much honoured this man, that being inflexible to all other, he onely obeyed him as a God. The dis∣pose of his temporal affairs being setled, he trans∣ferred all his thoughts to familiar discourses which he had with God, and yielded up his most happy soul on the Feast of Pentecost, the 22. of May, about mid-day, in the year of our Lord. 337.

The souldiers and officers who waited next his person, not thinking his end so near at hand, upon this news were seized with a grief so outragious, that tearing their cloaths, and prostrating them∣selves upon the earth, they bewailed their Emperour with complaints, which rather resembled yellings than moderate sorrow, called him, Their Sovereign Lord, their good Master, & common Father of the world.

His body was put into a coffin of gold, covered with purple, to carry it to Constantinople; where it was many dayes exposed in his Palace attired in Im∣perial habit, receiving the same duties and reverences, as if he had yet been alive, never was there observed toward any Emperour whatsoever either such great concourse of people, or cordial affection: not so much as little children but were touched with a sen∣sible grief, as if they had lost their father. One might have seen among the people some confounded with sad and heavy sorrow, others to break forth into complaints, the rest to pour themselves out in devo∣tions and prayer. When ancient Rome heard the news of his death, she caused the baths and publick Places to be shut up, all mirth and solace to cease, that they might lament the loss of a most honoured father.

The Princes his children speedily arrived at Constantinople, caused his obsequies to be performed after the manner of Christians, conducting the body to the Sepulcher with the Clergy, wax lights burning, and prayers of the Church ordained for the souls of the dead. For Eusebius, who was there present, maketh express mention of the ceremonies, which new Hereticks, through great impertinency and malignity have endeavoured to deny for the comfort of the dead.

It is a mervellous thing to consider what power virtue hath over the hearts of men, and to behold how many divers sects are different in that, which is matter of belief in Divinity, but all notwithstand∣ing agree in the honour due to honesty. The Pagans would needs canonize Constantine in their manner, and made a God of him, representing him in a Chariot, harnessed out with four horses, as flying above the clouds, and a hand stretched from Heaven, which made shew to hold him in this most blessed man∣sion of immortality. The Greek Church hath ho∣noured his memory, as of a Saint; although Constan∣tine had so humble an opinion of himself, that it is very likely he ordained by his Testament, which was afterward seen to be executed in his funerals, that his body should be interred not in the Church of S. Peter and S. Paul, but before the porch: esteeming himself most happy, if after he had born the prime Diadem of the world, he might serve as a porter to a simple fisherman.

I now aske of you, my Reader, who have consi∣dered the beginning, progress, and end of this Mo∣narch, where may you find one more clear in great∣ness of courage, more generous in his enterprizes, more prudent in his carriage, more fortunate in suc∣cesses, more constant in his perseverance? Poyze a little, and put in a ballance the glory of his arms, the happiness of his conquests, the wisdom of his laws: what virtue think you had he here occa∣sion to make use of, to set a new face upon a whole world, to oppose Armies with iron, stratagems with prudence, rebellion of untamed spirits with mild∣ness? What arm to resist the torrents of iniquity? What stroke to counterballance the inclinations of wils, and swift motions of an universal world. * 2.211 Verily I must affirm Augustus Caesar was a great Prince, for that he changed the face of the State of a mighty Common-wealth, built up a vast Empire; but not to flatter, nor raise our Princes above their merit with the interest of our own cause, we shall find this man had some thing in him much greater. I admit the other seemeth to you more subtile if you consider him in the maturity of prudence he shew∣ed in his elder days; notwithstanding if you behold him in all the parts of his life, you shall find great vices therein: I say not onely of impurity, or neglect, but of wickedness and inhumanity: which was the cause that he having one day in a banquet taken the shape of Apollo, those about him named him Apol∣linem Tortorem, Apollo the Hangman. I go not about at this time to search into the vices either of the one or other. I admit that Constantine though des∣cended of the most noble bloud of Romans, and as for∣tunate as ever Augustus, was in his beginning some∣what cruel: Yet no man can deny, but that in mili∣tary virtue, he in all points surpassed Augustus Caesar, who was never put into the rank of the most war∣like Princes.

Let us not here overprize the supereminency the one had above the other in this point: Let us onely compare them in quality of founders of new Estates. The one made a new world civil; and the other a new world Christian. The one to do what he did, found a Julius Caesar, who before-hand cut out his work for him: The other hewed forth a way through rocks, flames, thornes, wholly involved with contra∣riety. The one arranged men under a civil submission, in recovery of a Monarchy, which is an ordinary thing: The other without arms disarmed them from the affection they bare to their ancient superstition, which every well understanding Judge will esteem a mattter very difficult, because ordinarily men are very obstinate to retain the beliefs which they have held from father to son, through the revolution of many Ages. Finally, Augustus said he found a City of stone, speaking of ancient Rome, and had made of it a City of marble; but Constantine might boast to have raised a Rome wholly new in the establish∣ment of his Constatinople.

It is affirmed by the Pagans themselves, who ne∣ver attributed any thing to Constantine above his merit, that he was at the least, say they before bus bap∣tism, comparable to all the greatest Princes of the Em∣pire. Eutropius, a souldier of Julian the Apostata, who little loved Christian Princes, is inforced through a truth to confess, that he was (d) 2.212 Agreat man, having qualities and virtues of mind and body most innumera∣ble, and that his fortune being very great be had notwith∣standing equalled it by his industry and merit. Behold a testimony from the mouth of an enemy.

I would here willingly demand of Machiavel, who in the Treatise he composed of a Prince, said: That he which in all things would hold a strict profession of an honest man, cannot long continue in the company of such others as are of no esteem; and that it is necessary for a Prince who will maintain his own power, to learn how he may sometimes be wicked, and to practise it ac∣cording to the necessity of affairs: And in his State-Dis∣courses well discovereth he is of opinion, a Prince should cherish the Religion which most suteth with his designs whatsoever they be.

I should willingly know of all those that pursue * 2.213 the like Maxims with this corrupt spirit, what they would here answer me, upon the progression of the fortune of Constantine. Verily behold here a State∣wisedom, whereunto the pen of this Secretary, who pretended ability in some petty humane tracks, can∣not arrive. Behold a light, whereat all these eyes are dazeld. Behold an abyss, where all carnal men are lost, if we will well reckon them up, we shall find twelve or thirteen, who in several ways argue upon the Dia∣dem with Constantine. By what degrees hath the di∣vine providence conducted him to the Sovereignity of the Empires of the world? Is it by those, which Monsieur Nicholas Machiavel hath prepared to lead his Prince in? If one must dispoil himself of innocency to be re-invested with the robe Impe∣rial, why did Constantine take the way of Empire

by that of sanctitie? If use must be made of Religion, as of an instrument of State, and that taken which hath the most credit in the opinion of the people, why went he about to chuse Christian Religion, at that time when the most part of the world, was in∣gulfed in Gentilism? Behold Maxentius, who ac∣cording to the ordinary custom of the people of Rome, caused the pretended books of Sybilles to be turned over, consulted with Augures, offered sacri∣fices: This gave him a reputation of piety with a people as much infidel as him self: Why did not Constantine pursue the same ways: Why did he set the sign of the Cross on his Standards, esteemed fatal and of ill presage in the minds of the most part of his army? What favour might he then expect from Christians? Would he draw treasures from them? They were despoiled of all. Pretended he to raise huge armies of them for his service? They were so cut down, that one onely month saw seventeen thousand heads upon the ground, Did he perswade himself there was much strength in their religion? They were all either massacred, maimed, or banished. Did he look for counsel? They were men esteemed void of learning or policy. Did he hope for credit? They were trampled under foot like dirt in the streets.

Why then did a man reputed of so excellent judge∣ment, confine his interests to these miserable crea∣tures? He stood in need for the accōmodation of his affairs of a Roman Senate, and it was Pagan. He wan∣ted good Captains, & they were in a manner all Gen∣tiles. He must have Forts, and they all held for ancient superstition. What doth he go about? And yet be∣hold in a time wherein his affairs least seemed to re∣quire it, he takes the marks of Christianitie, and with them hasteneth to assail the Army of Maxen∣tius, composed of a hundred threescore and ten thousand footmen, and eighteen thousand horse, he himself according to the relation of those, who li∣ved in the very same time, having in this conflict, but very small troops. From whence cometh it, that he in so short a time, and with so few people, defeated such formidable powers? Not to bely the matter, had these men been but earthen statues, they might make resistance. Had they but been an army of sheep, they might weary the souldiers of Constantine to cut their throats. From whence comes it they were so soon defeated? From whence comes it that Max∣entius so basely betook himself to the stratagem of a bridge, which he prepared for his enemie? From whence comes it that a Roman Senate, which had confirmed so many Edicts against the Cross, a peo∣ple bred up in the horrour of the crucified, should readily receive a man, who entred into Rome with the Cross, and the name of the crucified upon his Standard? From whence comes it, that on the tri∣umphall Arch dedicated to him, he would have no mention of Roman Gods? At the least, according to the counsel of the Sectaries of the Florentine Se∣cretary, he should dissemble his religion, he should give way to time, he should make himself out∣wardly a Diocletian, and inwardly, if needs he would, a Constantine, Will any one say, he was at that time a man victorious, who came to give law, and not receive it? But who saw not, that his for∣tune being as yet in the bud, he was to walk towards Empires as on thorns, fearing above all things to irritate in the change of Religion the principall spi∣rits of the East and West, who were passionately af∣fected towards their Sect? I affirm Maxentius the Defendor of the Gods, ruinated himself by his ill government. Lycinius was yet on foot; and verily Lycinius an ancient souldier, who had waxed old in arms, and had never arrived to the Empire but by his valour, drew in the end all the partie of Genti∣lism, with forces innumerable both by sea and land, which seemed able to swallow many worlds. He made use of the counsell of Monsieur Machiavel, he protested he took arms for the defence of the Gods and Altars of ancient Rligion, against a man who sought to introduce a barbarous Sect into the World. Was not this a matter very specious in the times, when the superstition of Gentiles was exalted by Edicts of Emperours to the highest degree of honour? Lycinius notwithstanding is beaten, overthrown, rui∣ned, both by sea and land, although he were one of the most inventive in the subtilities of the art millitary, of the most resolute for execution, and the most stub∣born, to make up again a desperate fortune.

O you Nobilitie, what shall we say hereupon? Must we not confess there is one God in heaven, and not any other God, but that of Constantine, who gi∣veth Kingdoms, establisheth Scepters, and cementeth Crowns? If all this proceeding had been an extra∣vagancie of passion, we might attribute one part of it to the hazard of Wars, the other to the valour of Souldiers, and the last, to the heat of the first en∣counters. But to hold an Empire thirtie and one years, with so great an equality, so accomplished a fe∣licitie, so secure a peace, from the time of his last conquest, what may one answer to this?

From whence is it, that Constantine having forsa∣ken ancient Rome, of purpose to build a fair Citie, where God might sincerely be honoured, and ado∣red, without any commixtion of Gods or Altars of Gentils, which he as yet through necessity must to∣lerate at Rome, yet nothing was changed in the West? Was there want of men to undertake it? The grea∣test of the Senate were in a manner all Pagans. Were there not people enough to make revolts? They were as much inclined thereunto as ever. Were there not souldiers to support the enterprizes of those who had a desire to rebel? There was as many and perhaps more at that time, as at any time be∣fore. From whence then proceeded this sweet tran∣quilitie, but that the great Angel-Protectour of Con∣stantine, given unto him by the living God, held one foot on the East, and another on the West, to pro∣tect, preserve, and honour a man, who had defen∣ded, maintaimed and reverenced true Religion.

Oh Nobilitie, let no man go about to confine your * 2.214 hearts to these slender and wretched policies, which ruine all generositie. Whilest your Ancestours sincerely honoured the God of Constantine, of Charlemain, and S. Lewis, and whilest they with all sinceritie manured the pietie of their prede∣cessours, without any mixture of novelties, fact∣ions, and subtilities, they flew like Eagles to the con∣quest of Provinces, and made their arms resplendent almost in so many places, as the sun enlightneth with his rays. Now they endeavour to perswade you, that following a pettie spirit of wrangling, which sub∣mitteth religion to interests, you shall make up to your selves golden fortunes; when indeed experience daily teacheth you, they are but of gilded ice, and are melted under the lightening of Gods justice.

Open your eys to that, which I present you in * 2.215 this historie; behold yet, if you please as you pass along, the sequel and proceeding of the succes∣sours of Constantine. He left three sons, the one cal∣led by his own name, the other Constantius, from the name of his Grand-father, and the third Con∣stans. Constantine and Constans lived not long: the whole Empire which was divided between three, was re-united under the power of Constantius, who verily was an enemie to the superstitions of Gentiles, for which God gave him in recompence great vi∣ctories against the Tyrant Magnentius.

But this unfortunate Prince, instead of following the same belief of his father, hastened to throw him∣self violently into the novelties of the Arians; where∣of Ammianus the Historian, who was a Pagan soul∣dier, very aptly reprehendeth him, saying, he had done

himself great wrong, for that instead of preserving Christian Religion in its simplicity, he had imbroil∣ed and falsified it with novelism, using more per∣plexity to search out subtilities, than gravitie to pa∣cifie the Church: For he by this means, saith he, stirred up an infinite number of dissentions, which he nourished with disputes and quirks of words; so that under his reign you should never see Bishops but riding post over the fields to hold Synods, there∣by to draw all Christendom to the Emperours par∣ty. This was the cause that there were almost no horses nor Couriers to be found for the affairs of the Empire, so much were they imployed in voyages which were made for these goodly Councels.

He hath excellently well expressed in few words the nature of Constantius; for he was perpetually busied in these litigious wranglings of the heresie of Arians, assembling Conventicles of his false-Bishops to condemn the Orthodox. From whence it came to pass, that hated of men, and forsaken by God, he led a life full of jealousies, suspicions, disturban∣ces, and which is worse, defiled with bloud and mas∣sacres.

In the end, having heard the news that Julian the Apostata his cousin, whom he had before declared Caesar, was among the Gauls, and saluted Emperour, and having passed through Italy, came to present himself in Thrace, he went speedily out to resist him, and fell into such desperate furies, that on his way he was surprised with a sharp feaver, which so broil∣ed his body, that they durst no more touch him than a burning fornace. This malady in a few days bereaved him of soul and Empire, leaving the one to the judg∣ment of God, and the other to Julian.

Behold what became of this deplorable Prince, in the one and fourtieth year of his age, for having be∣trayed the Religion of his father; the gravitie and modesty observed in him, which was the cause he was never seen to spit nor wipe his nose, nor turn his head in publick, nothing availing him to length∣en out his life. Julian, Nephew and son-in-law of great Constantine, for he espoused Helena sister of Crispus, took instantly the government of the whole Empire upon him, and would needs overthrow all that which his uncle had done in matter of Re∣ligion.

Let us consider a little without passion the notable extravagancies of this spirit, who contemning the pietie * 2.216 of Constantine, sought to establish himself by all the ways, which the poor policie of earth sug∣gesteth to those who have renounced heaven. To speak to the purpose, we must affirm, this man had all the qualities which Monsieur Machiavel gave to his Prince. If dissimulation may be used for a King∣dom, never was a lamb more mild than this young man at the Court of Constantius, to take all suspici∣ons from him, which he conceived of his near allies; and although he already entertained most mischie∣vous thoughts in the matter of Christian Religion, he so covered them by the publick profession he made of it, that the very Eunuchs who had all charge most narrowly to prie into his actions upon this point, observed nothing therein which tended to alteration in Religion. But far otherwise, about the age of sixteen, he caused his hair to be cut, and vowed himself to the Church, as a Prince most Re∣ligious, who thought little on the Empire of the world.

And after, when he was sent into France, although he used strange superstitions and witch-crafts, rising up in the night to pray to Mercury, to whom he de∣dicated much devotion; yet did he also notwithstand∣ing celebrate the feasts with Christians: and that which besides is more considerable, when he was proclaimed Emperour, though he had an enraged desire towards it, and that all this solemnitie, was throughly agreed upon by his cunning, yet seigned he to have all the aversions in the world against it, and caused himself to be carried to the throne as one would draw an unruly sacrifice to the slaughter.

What spirit was evermore dissembled than this mans? If, as saith the Secretary, a Prince should endeavour to have virtues in apparence which may render him acceptable in publick, though he be not to take much pains to have them in effect, never did any man better put on the mask of much honesty than this. For in the fortune of Emperour, he would seem like the most mortified Stoik of all that Sect; shewing himself so chast, that never might you hear one sole misbecomming word fall from his lips; so sober, that he gave an example to the most austere Monks; so negligent in the neatness of his body, that he much gloried to see vermine run up and down on his beard, which he wore very long to play the Philosopher in all kinds; so patient, that he many times endured all sorts of affronts and sharp words from mean men, no more moved thereby to anger than a stone.

If it must needs be, according to the said Maxims, that a Prince to procure estimation, should perform great enterprizes, this man was no sooner seated in his Throne, but that he practised admirable policies, and hastened to make war on the Persians, to imitate Alexander the Great, to whose virtues he aspired. If needs some remarkable act must be done in the begin∣ing, he at his entrance professing Paganism, repealeth the Bishops, which Constantius a Christian Prince had banished. If liberallitie must be used, this man gave all, and said his treasures were better among his friends, than with himself. If excellent Masters in every art and science are to be cherished, this man did it with much passion.

From whence then proceedeth it, that with all those goodly parts of Machiavels Prince, he hath so little prospered, reigning but one year and seven months, and dying strucken with a blow from hea∣ven, which the Pagans themselves confess to be igno∣rant from whence it came; and dying in a frenzy, which caused him to fill his hand with his own blood, and cry, Thou, O Galilean hast overcome, and leaving in his death a memory of his name so odious to all posterity.

The poor man forsaking the way already so happi∣ly beaten by Constantine, unluckily hasteneth to joyn amity with those wise Politicians, who had all Pla∣to's Common-wealth, who esteemed themselves the most accurate in the government of the World, who promised him by these wiles he practised, the abso∣lute extirpation of Christianity, and to make him the most awfull and most glorious of all the Emperours of the world. And I beseech you, what became in the end of all these promises, but dreams, illusions, and vapours.

Constantius under the holy Philosophy of the cross, reigned more than thirty years. Constantine waged great wars, had great victories, great triumphs, was attended by great Councels, great Cities. Constantine left a Religion, so established, that the malice of an Arian son, nor the policy of a new Apostata could not extinguish it. Constantine never entred into any battel where he came not off victorious. And Julian in the first war he undertook upon the beginning of his em∣pire, confounded all his Army, led his Captains to slaughter, was himself slain as a victime. And the sage Politicians which he ever had in his army, in∣stead of Priests and Bishops, drew him to death, to serve as a spectacle of confusion for the one, and mat∣ter of mirth for the other,

May we not wel say, O Nobilitie, that these spirits who divert your hearts from the chast beliefs of your Ancestors, from the puritie of faith, the candor of a good conscience, to invenom them with a

doctrine of impietie, policy, and treachery; un∣der colour of humane wisedom, are the plagues of States, the ruins of houses, and the fatal hands to annihilate greatness.

I will not infer for a necessary conclusion, that all such as live in the fear of God and in integrity, must ever have pleasing successes according to the world, in the manage of temporal affairs: this is not a thing absolutely promised to us by God. We have not sold him our fidelity and Christianity upon such condition, that he should still afford us the bread of dogs, and favour us with felicities, which he imparteth to Sarazens and Mores. I know good Christian Princes may be afflicted, sometime for the punishment of certain sins, which they with too much indulgence have permitted; sometime for a trial and spectacle of their virtue; sometime to teach us there is another life for the children of God, since they in this same are ill entreated, sometime for causes which the providence of God involveth as in a cloud, replenished with obscurity and darkness. Yet shall you find in reading histories either divine or humane, that all those who have progressed on with true feeling of God, and with the lightenings of integrity, and touches of a good conscience, which nature provideth for every man, have commonly been the most expected, the best beloved, the most happy, and most permanent.

And to speak with S. Augustine, would not they * 2.217 ever be most happy, if they had no other felicity, but to be just in their commands, moderate in their for∣tunes, humble among services, modest in praises, and faithful servants of God, in Empires? Wherein con∣sisteth the happiness of man, if it be not to fear God, so to fear nothing els? If it be not to love a Kingdom, where we no longer may dread to have compa∣nions? If it be not to pardon injuries through cle∣mency, and not revenge crimes, but by justice? If it be not to be chast in the liberty of pleasures? If it be not rather to command over our own passions, than Cities and Provinces?

Behold the principal felicity of great Constantine, which you ought, O Noble Men, to take for your model. Do in your own houses what he acted in an Empire: establish there constantly the fear and love of God. Banish vices, as he from his City of Constan∣tinople the Temples and Victims of false Gods; that the honour of the Cross may set a seal on all your thoughts, all your counsels, all your enterprizes; that your examples may serve to God as amber, and ada∣mant, to attract so many hearts of straw and iron, as are now in the world, to the love of virtue, that these duels of gladiatours, condemned by Constantine, may be the horrour of your thoughts, and detesta∣tion, of your hearts; that devotion, chastity, humility, patience, charity, virtues so familiar to this great Monarch, may make an honourable warfare, which shall possess your heart; and that all of them may there reign, each one in particular with as ample Em∣pire, as all of them in general.

THE STATES-MAN.

TO STATES-MEN.

SIRS,

SInce God hath put the government of people, justice, and most important affairs into your hands, he hath likewise raised you upon a high degree of honour, to be looked on in offices, no otherwise than as stars in the firmament.

Your dignities are obligations of conscience, that bend like the chains of MEDAEA, and scortch weak souls in purple and gold: but which on the other part afford to generous spirits a perfect lustre of Divinitie. The more light a bodie enjoyeth, say the learned, so much the more ought it to have of participa∣tion and favourable influences, for objects which are in a much

lower degree than it▪ So likewise must we necessariely say, that your qualities, which grant you nearer approaches to the source of greatness, and embellish you with the rays of the majestie of a Prince, do most particularly oblige you to all the great vir∣tues, which concern the Weal-publick.

It oftentimes happeneth, that those who flie from charges and affairs under pretext of tranquilitie of spirit, if they be not well rectified therein, find instead of repose a specious sluggish∣ness; and those, who make profession of arms, if they take not good heed, suffering all the innocencie of the Golden Age to languish, make themselves virtues of the iron Age: but your conditions, which have a certain temperance of a life more sweet, accompanied with laudable employments, open the way to you, which maketh and crowneth merits. Yet is there need of a soul very able to preserve it self sincerely in charges, among so many corruptions, and of a heart perfectly purified, to link it wholly to the interests of God, who with three fingers of his power supporteth Estates and Empires.

That is the cause, why I offer this Treatise, not so much to give Maxims of State, of which there are always enough to be found; as sometimes to awaken a good conscience, which is a true ray reflected from the eternall Law, to the end that among so many temptations of Honour, and such burdens of affairs, it may not lose any part of its vigour. If you deign to spend some hours of your leasure hereon, it perhaps wil not be unpro∣fitable; for at least that will let you see a States-man, as rare as a Phenix, and as pure as an Angel. But if this consideration furnish you with any good thoughts for your perfection, I shall esteem my self well recompensed for the service, which I in this work have vowed to your eminent qualities:

THE STATES—MAN.

The first SECTION. The excellencie of Politick Virtue.

I Have ever made account of the di∣vision of virtues which the Platonists use, when they call the one Purga∣tive, the other Illuminative, the third Civil, and the last Exemplar.

Purgative virtues are those, which give to our souls the first tincture of sanctity. For they take our heart, wholly possessed as it is yet with earthly passions, and discharge it from so many imperfections which ordinarily corrupt na∣ture, to give it a tast of heavenly things. Illuminative afford us day-light, when we have vanquished the agitations of sense, & establish us in the sweetness of some repose, where we begin to behold the entrances, progresses, and issues of the world wherein we are placed, and the course of this great Comedy, called life. The Civil draw us out of our selves, to apply us to our neighbour, and to render every one his due according to his degree, in the good conversion be∣twixt man and man. Exemplar proceed much further in perfection; for they expose themselves in publick, to serve as models for others, and appear in charges and dignities, in the government of Kingdoms, Provinces, Cities, and Communalties. This is it which I call here the virtue of a States-man, taking the word generally, not only for those who are engaged in the manage of Monarchies, Sovereignties, and Re-publicks; but also for such as exercise justice, and other principal charges of civil life. We must * 2.218 affirm this politick virtue which maketh true States-men, is a rare piece; and as it were the cream and most purified part of wisdom, seeing that not con∣tenting it self with a lazy knowledge of virtue, it laboureth to build, adorn, and establish the civil world by the maintenance of justice, without which in the amplest Kingdoms are the greatest thefts.

If the world be a harp, as saith the eloquent Sine∣sius, * 2.219 justice windeth up the strings, stirreth the fin∣gers, toucheth the instrument, giveth life to the airs, and maketh all the excellent harmonies. If the world be a Musick-book, framed of days and nights, as of white and black notes, justice directeth, and composeth. If it be a ring, justice is the diamond. If it be an eye, justice is the soul. If it be a Temple, justice is the Altar. All yieldeth to this virtue, and as it is enchaced in all laudable actions, so all lauda∣ble actions are incorporated in justice. It is an engine much more powerful in effect than was that of Ar∣chimedes in idaea; for it doth that in Kingdoms, which this man could never so much as imagine in his mind, though ambitious enough in inventions. It maketh, I say, Heaven to descend on earth, and earth to mount up to Heaven: Heaven to descend, in introducing a life wholly celestial in the uncivil conversation of men; earth to mount up, in drawing it from dreggs and corruption of a covetous and bloudy life, to en∣lighten it with rays of a prudent knowledge, to em∣belish it with virtues, diversifie it with beauties, and settle it in the center of repose.

God maketh so much account of an honest man, * 2.220 recommended to the government of others, that having chosen Noah to command over onely seaven souls, shut up in the Ark as in a moving prison, he calleth him his Heart: for to say truly, we must have the heart of God, to bring forth counsels suffi∣ciently able to save men, and to be in the same instant the mouth of God, to pronounce the Oracles of truth. God asketh Job, who is the man on earth * 2.221 that shall make the musick of Heaven? To which I would willingly answer: It is a good Justicier. For in what consisteth this harmony of Heaven? We are not in my opinion to imagine it according to the dotages of some Philosophers, who of it have made unto themselves a celestial musick composed of voyces and sounds formed by the mutual encoun∣ter of those admirable Globes. The harmony of Heaven is nought else, but the good order of the sun, the moon, stars, day, and night, and seasons, which daily progress along with a regular pace, and mea∣sured motion, not erring in the least point.

This order, which is so excellent and divine in Heaven, is introduced upon earth by the means of justice, which guideth and governeth all the actions of men within the circuits and limits of duty, so sagely and divinely, that he who would observe so many singular laws which books recommend unto us, should quickly make earth become a little Heaven. For the same reason Origen interpreting * 2.222 this passage of Isay, where God saith, Heaven is his Throne, sheweth, that the Paradise and Heaven of God upon earth is justice; from whence it com∣eth to pass, that such as use it, as they ought, are wholly celestial in science, life, and conversation. Was it not this consideration which drew the Babylonians to build the Palace, where judgements were given, in the forme of Heaven; for the very stone-work was of Saphirs, which are of celestial colour, and in the feelings, clouds were counterfeit∣ed, and in those clouds certain birds, reputed as messengers of justice, as if they had been delegated to see the deportments of men in discharge of their offices, and to advise them, that giving judgement on earth, they must ever have an eie and an ear in Heaven.

I also discover this by another observation of * 2.223 Scripture; for it teacheth me, that the brave Prin∣cess Debora surnamed the Bee, judged the people, and held her Assizes under a Palm: or as it is probable, after the reason both of the one and other were heard, she took a leaf of this tree, and gave it to him who had the right. And from this practise * 2.224 is derived the custom to plant Palms at the gates of great Advocates and Justiciers, which was like∣wise observed in ancient Rome.

Now why think you would God have the first ses∣sions

of justice to be held under Palms, but to signi∣fie that which Philo speaketh of, that as the Palm beareth his heart and strength in the top, so good jud∣ges direct their whole understanding and affections to heaven, living perpetually as in the presence of the Divinitie, or else, that as the virtues of the Palm are innumerable, so the excellencies of justice are in∣finite?

Adde also hereunto a passage in a Caldaick Com∣mentary upon Ecclesiastes, which telleth how Solomon, that great King, under whose principality peace and justice mutually embraced as sisters, to shew what account he made of those who well managed mat∣ters of right, caused a most sumptuous Palace to be erected for them of most exquisite workmanship, called the House of Judgement, and through excess of favour, ordained they should partake of the wine of offerings, which was presented on the Altars of the living God, and which came from a vine planted and manured by the hand of Solomon himself. Is it * 2.225 not to place justice in heaven, to admit it to the communication of the honours and offerings of God? So the people of Israel supposing one day that Moses was lost, instantly asked of Aaron Gods to govern them, as thinking there must be some divini∣tie to supply the loss of this great States-man. Why then do you wonder if S. Augustine in the book he cōposed of Order, praiseth the practise of Pythagoras who never taught politick science to his disciples, till they had passed through many long trials, esteeming the other arts were apt to debaush the mind, but that this applied lively colours, and as it is said, varnished and perfected up the table.

It is not very hard at this time to conclude, what the excellency of a brave States-man is, but the discovery of him is very rare. And I will tell you, that considering well the tables which Delbenius hath made upon Aristotle his Phylosophy, and comparing them with other exquisite pieces; I have seen two Cities very different, both which bare the title of Policy: but the one in effect was false Policy, and the other the City of Verity. I will pre∣sent them unto you plainly and sincerely, according to the like design of S. Augustine in his City of God, and according to the Idaea's of ancient Sages, not plancing at our times, which I will neither praise nor condemn, my nature and profession having disposed me to much ignorance of worldly affairs.

The second SECTION. The table of Babylon drawn from sundry conceptions of the most singular wits of Antiquity

WE then have beheld the City of wicked Policy in those ancient paintings, to be built upon ruines, in a land of quick-sil∣ver, wholly cemented with bloud, Earth-quakes are there very frequent, and I know not what kind of outragious winds blow so dangerously, as if they would tear all in pieces.

The waters were there infected, the air killed those which breathed in it, the viands produced death under a false apparence of life, The inhabi∣tants saw nothing but wolves and foxes by their sides, ravens and owls on their houses, comets over their heads, serpents and scorpions at their feet, which were there seen as abundantly strewed, as flowers in the ennamell of the spring. The gates * 2.226 resembled those fatall portalls, whereof histories make mention, that were never opened, but to pass away carrion and ordure: and withall this the Citi∣zens were so powerfully charmed, that they estee∣med themselves most happie, supposing to sleep on thorns was to live among violets and roses.

It is verily a wonder that without there were some shadowes of pietie, but within not so much as a Temple. For in truth the Burgesses of this Citie never looked up to heaven but to blaspheme it, and all of them greedily sought for earth covered with a vail of sky-colour.

I saw no other Gods there, but Honour, Gain, and Pleasure, to which souls and bodies were sacri∣ficed in much greater number than Solomon slaugh∣tered oxen in the solemnitie of his most magnificent Sacrifices. I saw huge caves, where there were all sorts of beasts, and likewise many monsters, that much resembled the Harpyes, Gorgons, and chymae∣ra's of antiquitie.

I perceived also some solitarie dens, where I was certified great sacriledges were committed, of power to make darkness, which served them for a cover, to blush for shame, being unable to deceive the eys of God.

The men which walked in the streets appeared like Centaures, and were clothed with an habit spot∣ted over like the skin of a Panther. The Chirurgi∣ans who diffected some of them newly dead, gave assurance they had found two hearts in them. How∣soever it is certain they shewed, as it is said, mar∣vellous cunning in their words, and had no other pastime all the day, but to lay snares; not sparing their greatest friends: for indeed they were ex∣treamly treacherous and cruell in all which concer∣ned their own interests.

As I more attentively considered their orders and distinctions, I saw there were three labyrinths, very different. In the first, which was at the very entrance, stood the least wicked, who were not as yet practised in black mischiefs, contenting them∣selves to exercise some slight tricks of wit; for they in good earnest deceived one another, and took much pleasure in mutuall cousenage, and called this kind of sport legier-demain, I saw there many creatures that served their masters not forget∣ting their own affairs, and who mowed the mea∣dow, whilest it was plenty. I saw Merchants some of which foisted in false wares, others disguised them, others overprized them, others sware without end, and some likewise swallowed up perjuries as sweetly as the most delicate viand. I saw Artificers who used many deceits in their manufactures, and better understood the trade of lying, than any other. I also saw some who sold wind, silence, and time, and had excellent inventions to get money. Some by certain influences drew it out, as doth lightening▪ not touching the purse. Others had inventions of quintessences: Others traffiqued about stars, and sold good fortune in little boxes of smoak: Others had shops of the secrets of Arts, & made themselves able to give beauty, youth, health & immortalltie, to those that would buy them. Others made dice and mathe∣maticall cards: Others lead Bears; others extracted infamous coin from the planet of Venus; others in the qualitie of mercenaries made Odes and love son∣nets for the Pandora's of the time; and which was most ridiculous, certain young wits among all these were seen, who laboured to patch up together rimes or prose very little to the purpose, to whom Gold and incense was given, with which they were so puf∣fed up, that they esteemed the most solid wisdom of the world to be but meer ignorance in compari∣son of their works,; One cannot tell all the tricks of this imposture, and how many sleights the spirit, watchfull for it's own interests, found to come to the end of its intentions. Conscience checked some; but they answered, one could not live in the world without these tricks, and that they were as necessary as to breath.

In the second labyrinth I saw the corruptions of * 2.227 justice described by S. Cyprian in the Epistle he ad∣dresseth to his friend Donatus, when he speaketh of Rome the Idolatress. All was replenished (saith this Prelate) with goodly Precepts, excellent laws, and sage ordinances: but in the midst of so many lights, God and men were offended with so much impu∣dence, as if these laws were made to no other end, but to be transgressed. Never is innocencie so ill in∣treated, as in the place where profession is made to defend it. The serpents of the desert have less gall and spleen than those Pleaders, whom I saw turmoi∣led with a spirit of giddiness, and dissevered with the sword of division. Their clamours were so loud that they made the whole house of justice to eccho again, as are the waves heard to rore on the shore of the Aegean sea. I saw gibbets, wheels, and boyling * 2.228 cauldrons prepared for some miserable criminals, be∣cause they were yet, as it is said, but little theeves; but were they much greater, their crimes had rather been crowned than chastised.

From thence I viewed fields weeping, filled with standing waters, which were said to be gathered together from the tears of Widdows, Orphans, and an infinite number of other persons, who live under great oppression. I saw some who were in the water up to the neck, and some who lifted up an arm withall their strength to offer up some papers, where∣in were the laws of Charlemain and Lewis the twelfth which expresly command the causes of the poor may be handled before any other business: but it was replied, such ordinances were quite out of use. These miserable creatures solicited their Attorneys, and they betraied them; complained to their advo∣cates and they perplexed them; implored the assist∣ance of Judges, and they sold them, notwithstanding were esteemed honest men, and still enemies to these corruptions.

I saw two great Registers, whereof the one was called the Cabale of favour; and the other the Ca∣bale of monie where it is said there were mischiefs as black as the spirits of the abyss, but they must not be divulged. There was also a very great quantitie of Pleaders, who sought to stretch out suits, as Shoo∣makers a piece of leather with their teeth, and mutter out propositions of errours, reviews, incompeten∣cies, rejections, oppositions, and compulsorie causes, with so many other hideous words, that I asked whether these men spake the language of the Canadas or Chinois

Old Pettifoggers appeared, all over worm-eaten with mischiefs, who could scarce breath from their lips, yet had strong apprehension of death, through fear to leave the exercise of suits. The like was found in souls already half damned, who were very soli∣citous in manner of treachery; one bare false witness, another invented a contract, another forged a Will, another supposed a crime, another had a shop of all sorts of slanders and diabolicall falsifications; the au∣dacious sale of a word prostituted to sin▪ flew between Heaven and earth about twilight with the wings of an owl; and to consummate the sublimitie of mischief, right yielded to iniquitie. It was to do wrong to the wicked, not to imitate those. Crimes, said they were already sufficiently authorised by the great multitude of complices.

In the third Labyrinth, I saw men who had little * 2.229 else of man in them but shape and skin. They were near to an enchanted river, which must be passed and repassed over seven times, as it is said, to be∣come absolute in craft. There were likewise others seen already transformed into unknown monsters, and others who had no more but the little finger or tip of the nose of men. I saw some who were like little Apes, which pushed and scratched one another, and brake through the throng, with all their force to climb up to the top of a tree, which was said to be the tree of Honour.

At the entrance there was I know not what kind * 2.230 of fantasm of Divinity, called Worldly favour. It seemed in apparence to have a body and consistence, but was in effect a true spectre of smoak, cloathed with a mantle tissued with clouds and wind. There stood about it Phylosophers, who would undertake to derive the Genealogie, and set the Horoscope of it. One said she was the daughter of beautie, the o∣ther of hazard, the other of babble; that fortune was her nursing-mother, and that if she had her exalta∣tion in the sign of the Ram, she should find her declination in the Ballance. Howsoever, she then ap∣peared very sprightfull and spruce. Flatterie failed not to court her, throwing roses and flower-de-lu∣ces upon her. But at the same time envy slily stealing into the throng, gnawed the border of her garment. Riches, disdain, presumption and boldness did no∣thing but cry round about her. Make place, make place, and to raise her the higher, they sought to lay the great God of Justinian under her feet. She was so disdainfull of knowledges, she had formerly ac∣quired, that nothing was so cold as her discourse, and if she had eys, they were for no use but to behold her own interests. When I saw she paced along in a way all shining with ice, and that she danced on a rope, I lost sight of her, not troubling my self any further to follow this spirit: but I understood that all those who promised themselves the seven wonders of the world, had been paid in coin of leaves.

There likewise I viewed men whom you would * 2.231 have taken for geese, so simple of countenance were they, but they swam in Pactolus, having but one foot onely of a goose; for the other hidden under feathers was the tallon of a Harpy, which did onely attend to catch golden fish. I saw also some plunged in a huge heap of pistolets, so that neither heads nor bo∣dies appeared, but onely one tip of a toe made like the paw of a Griphon, as a notable painter not long since delineated covetuousness. Going somewhat further I discovered the Den of Bacchus, where I saw fifes, timbrels, ivy, and goat-skinns, huge smoke of roasts, feasts, and men buried in wine and good cheer. Beyond it they passed to the grots of Lust, where crimes were done, which would make the most innocent pens guiltie in writing them; for as there must be an extream impudence to commit them, so ought much shamefastness be used to con∣ceal them. Nothing so much astonished me, as to see Ecclesiasticks without religion, Ladies without shame, young maids tainted, who knew so much of that whereof they should be ignorant, that the most prostituted could teach them nothing.

Afterward the sport turning into bloud, I saw strange teacheries,, horrible circumventions, exe∣crable treasons, which spake of nothing but of tying halters and mingling poisons, I also saw some who made it their practise to kill men openly, and said there was no safetie for them in innocency, but much rather in the enormities of sacriledges.

I thought I had seen all, when I afterwards per∣ceived a chamber hideously black, said to be the stu∣dy of Lucifer, and that the brave spirits of this time fludied there, under the regency of Herod, Tiberius, and Pilate, to find out the way how to believe in God no longer, and to know all the refined policy of former ages.

I should be tedious and troublesome to decipher all the particulars of this prodigious Citie. The paint∣ing hath told much of it, but the greatest unhappi∣ness which I saw there, is, that it is more true than I could wish. For not to touch upon the honour of so many good men, which are yet both in the body of justice, and in all other companies, I must tell

you that among the sons of Seth there are many Children of Cain, which make up this Babylon.

The third SECTION. The destruction of Babylon, and the government of the Divine Provi∣dence over the Estates of the World.

I Courteously beseech you, O ingenious Politici∣an, to run your eyes over these lines which I have traced, to stay a little your hast, and to con∣sider with me the knot of all this policy, the source, progresse, issue, and remedy of all these disorders, perhaps you may find more reason in my discourses than your passion can expect. Consult awhile with your heart, sound your soul, go to the bottom of your conscience, I fear there may be some pits of the abyss, and grashoppers of the Apocalyps, which are those black vapours, that have hitherto eclipsed all the lights of your understanding. I will not con∣ceal from you that there are three sorts of souls, one virginal, another already changed and somewhat corrupted, the rest shameless, such as those which are called in Scripture vast and giant-like-souls. I * 2.232 do not think to find by your proceedings, that you have a virgin-soul, nor will I likewise perswade my self, you have the soul of a giant, which expecteth no other remedy but thunder: I should rather believe you have a stomack depraved by some wicked principles, whereinto either the unhappiness of your educati∣on, the presumption of your ability, or tickling-hope of good success in worldly affairs hath thrown you. Wil you that I touch with a finger the begin∣ing of your disorder? You have been too much flattered upon the excellency of your wit, which is not, to speak truly, one of the shallowest of the time: but there is much wanting of the singularity you imagine. You have insensibly retired your self from that great judgement which S. Denys calleth the e∣ternal * 2.233 hearth of all the most purified lights, and most chast affections, and by withdrawing your self have taken a great quantity of false lights into your cor∣rupt understanding, and much coldness into your heart, which have brought upon you a remisness in good manners, and a notable disorder in all the parts of your soul. You have seen heaven, and all the hopes of the other life, as Mathematicians make us to behold in a dark chamber, whatsoever passeth abroad, through a little cranny, in such manner, that all things we see appear like shadows and landskips turned topsy-turvy.

Behold what happeneth after you have stopped up all the windows and accesses of heavenly light; you have made a little hole for the moon, and all the blessings of the other life have seemed very slender to your distrustful spirit: you have put on a resolution to make a fortune at what price soever, and to build on earth like Cain, after you have almost renounced the hopes of heaven, In doing this you have played the unruly Ass, thinking to escape from the bands of the dependance you have on God: you have made your self your blessing, your end your (a) 2.234 God. Thereupon you have thought of the means you are to hold to arrive at this scope, already framed in your imagination. It seemeth to you all things suc∣ceeded according to your wit, travel, and indu∣stry used therein, with some small help of fortune, God no whit at all intermedling with affairs here below. You have drawn absurd consequencies of the prosperity of some subtile spirits, not looking in∣to the bottom of the business. The success of your affairs, which seemed to you most prosperous, not∣withstanding your crimes and unlawfull proceed∣ings, have emboldened you; mischievous spirits, which dayly converse with you, have confirmed you. In the end, behold your self reduced as it were to this point, as to suppose you are to hold on a course in all affairs and governments of the world, which may be craftie, captious, worldly, and independent of divine laws, if not for some popular apparence.

If this be so, I demand of you, why then in the * 2.235 judgement of that great Politician Thucidides, and all other well understanding men, is it observed that these curious wits, despoiled of the fear of God, have alwayes been most turbulent and unhappy in the manage both of their own affairs and the pub∣lick also; as on the contrary, those who had not so much knowledge and invention, but pursued the ge∣neral instinct of God, have held their estates better governed in simplicitie, more prosperous in the ig∣norance of evil, and much more firm in the lasting of their felicity? Never was there a more refined wit than Achitophel of whom the Scripture said, * 2.236 men consulted with him as with a God: yet never was there any more unhappy in his practise. For ha∣ving disposed of the affairs of the Kingdom, and those of his own house, there remaining none to be provided for but his own person, he took a halter and strangled himself, because they approved not one of his counsels.

When we behold in Histories a large list of these most curious Politicians, who have had so ill success either in their own persons, or in their posterity, as I presently will produce very many; we must undoubt∣edly say, this kind of way is ever dangerous in its en∣terprises, but not infallible in the successes thereof. If you become as wicked as a little Poliphemus, it would be very hard to deny a first cause of all the creatures which are in the world, of it self absolute, independent, and eternal, For were the world full of wheels and revolutions, even from earth to hea∣ven, still must we necessarily come to the last wheel, to the last revolution, which is to give motion to all the other, and to take it of no other, and that is God. Were you as bruitish as a Lestrigon, you could * 2.237 not deny an eternal Verity. For in what time will you say there hath not been a verity? Should you assign the space of ten millions of years, and all that may be imagined beyond it, you would ever find this Verity: and should you say, it was not then, and that in saying so you were sincere, which cannot be; yet would you speak a truth even in denying a truth, so much is her essence necessary: and this eternal Verity which serves as a basis for all other verities, is that which we call God. Were you as unnatural as a mon∣ster, you knew not how to deny there were a sove∣reign Being in the world, which holdeth the first de∣gree of all excellencies in such sort, that we can∣not imagine any thing more excellent; and that is God.

Besides, it is necessary to infer what S. Thomas hath * 2.238 most divinely sayd, that all things which are by bor∣rowing and participation, have relation of necessity to that, which is by essence and nature. So the stars, the pretious stones have relation to the sun; and things hot to the fire as the scope of their excellency. Now it is certain that men, Cities, and Kingdoms, have but a borrowed being, because they are not made by themselves, and therefore it is necessary to affirm there is an intellectual power in a supreme de∣gree, whereunto all these intelligences, even of men which constituted these States and Republickes, do relate; and this relation is nothing else but provi∣dence.

Verily if you should behold on a Theather about ten thousand white beards, that were come thither to

decide a matter by a common consent, would you take your self to be wise to enter into Councel not called, and to reject the opinions of all those, who have delivered their sentences, publishing an opinion absolutely new, and directly contrary to so many good judgements?

And I ask of you, that were now so many excel∣lent Magistrates raised again, as have governed all sorts of Kingdoms and Common-wealths in the A∣ges past, should we not see more than a million of men most accomplished in knowledge, virtue, and ex∣perience, who had mannaged the world in the fear, and under the laws of this Divine Providence? It would then be a notable spectacle, to see you enter into the Hall of such a Councel with a downy chin, to give all this assembly the lie, and say, There is nothing but hu∣mane policie, dissimulation, and the tricks of flattery to be valued in affairs, without the expectation of any thing from God; would you not be ridiculous? Yet this is it which you do, so much hath sin stupified you. If you have the least spark of the understand∣ing of a man, when you foster such thoughts in your minds, do you think it were fit to prefer some moul∣dy reasons of a carnal spirit, and the capriches of your sensual imaginations before the voice of nature, and the states of the whole world, assembled together to condemn your bruitishness? If there be no Provi∣dence to chastise the perverse, and recompence the just, conclude, we must live in the world like a spar∣row-hawk, or Pike, called the Tyrant of the water, and to have no other measure of virtue, but your ta∣lon and throat. Is it not to pen the gate to all in∣justices, perjuries, treacheries, and all possible abomi∣nations? For what monster will not that soul be ca∣pable of, which conceiveth nothing of God? I have some reason, say you, and for this cause you are of opinion, this belief should be entertained to amuze the people.

In saying this, you discover a great weakness of judgement; for it must be concluded, according to your proposition, that all what ever was in the world, either of justice, temperance, modesty, courtesie, pa∣tience, honesty, peace and tranquility, were derived from an imaginary belief, touching Providence, from an errour a folly, an illusion: which is as absurd, as to say grapes grow upon thistles, & roses spring from the ice of winter. And tell me not, I pray, that a false belief seeks to procure good effects, as it appeareth in the virtues of Pagans. For I hold, that what good the Pagans have done, they have not acted it with re∣lation to the adulteries of Jupiter, nor the murders of bloudy Mars: but in honour of a Divinity, which they thought avenged iniquity, and rewarded vir∣tue. In this general belief, which was the true root of their moral virtues, there happened no abuse, although they in particular were deceived in their judgement.

Your goodly objections of aw proceed from an infamous Diagoras, or Plinie, who thought to have * 2.239 found a great secret in saying, The belief of a Di∣vine Providence was a jolly invention, because it kept the world in aw. Deserved he not well to be cursed as a Traytour to all mankind? Deserved not he well to be broiled alive in the throat of hell, as in∣deed he was loosing, his life in the flames of Vesuvius, since he vaunteth himself to have discovered a secret, * 2.240 which would be able, were it true, to let loose the bridle to all profanations and bruitishness of a life the most savage that might be imagined? Ever would it be more to the purpose to tolerate an evil well conferred, than to introduce a good ill digested, say the wise: and what crime is it then to invent false secrets, the ignorance whereof is so wholesom, and the verity whereof would be so prodigiously hurtfull? Why do you not rather take into your considera∣tion the sage discourse of the Philosopher Simplicius, who said: When I imagine a god unto my self, I fi∣gure a great Master, whom I know of necessitie to be endowed with a most stable science, and a most ex∣cellent will. And for this cause I conclude, be cannot be ignorant of the things be hath produced, seeing this ignorance falleth not even upon beasts most stupid; and I say, that he knowing them, governeth them without pain, Omnipotent though he be; there being no greatness nor multitude of burdens, which can weaken the forces and vigour of this infinite Spirit. As there is not any thing too great for his capacity, so is there nothing too little for his bounty. Nothing escapeth his Paternal Providence, nor doth he think it a matter unworthy of his care to govern a butter-flie, since he esteemed it a thing consonant to his bounty, to create a butter-flie. Now for us to think that he knowing, able, and willing to govern the world, is diverted from it through pleasures and con∣tentments he taketh for his own delights, is a most gross imagination; for why should we attribute to God appre∣hensions and assertions, which we would be ashamed to give to men, if they made not profession to be of the num∣ber of the altogether idle?

Behold how this singular wit discourseth: and ve∣rily it is to be wholly ignorant of God, to have any conceit of him less than infinite. Independent Sove∣reigntie cannot admit a companion; and the inex∣haustible force of a Creatour, who made all, sufficeth to govern all. An Angel cost him no more in the ma∣king than a silk-worm, and a silk-wom cost him no less to produce it than an Angel. Why do you not judge that which is to be made, by it which is already made? When you entered into the world, the Divine Providence, as a harbinger, prepared your lodging for you, it was not in your power to make your self then either rich or poor, Master or servant, King or subject; your affairs were dispatch∣ed, and your counsel not asked. God also in silence draweth out the web of your life; if you desire to be happy, you have nothing to do, but to contribute your free-will to his work. But if you have set up your rest to become a Politician, contrary to the de∣crees of Providence, and to bend the byass to your pretended interests, is it not to do the same thing, which a frog should, if she sought to swim against the current of Rhodanus or Danubius? Would not it be as ridiculous, as if a flie should seek to soar up to heaven, and fix her little feet, to stay the course of the Primum Mobile? You say, I press you, and if you * 2.241 can prosper well in the affairs of the world by these ways of piety and honesty, which are ever annexed to a firm belief of a divine Providence, you would rather take this same than any other. To it I answer that which Laertius speaketh of the Philosopher Byon, who having before been an athe••st, & afterward by chance disposing himself to invoke the false gods, became most superstitious in their service, under hope of some temporal commodities, which he thought to gain. O * 2.242 great fool (saith this Authour) who could not propose gods to himself, unless he made them mercenary, and would needs have the belief of a Divinitie depend on the succes∣ses of his person and house. God (saith S. dugustine) en∣gageth not his promise to make us happy according to the world, so soon as we become honest men. If you say unto him: O God, where is your justice, to suffer the wicked so to flourish, & good men to be afflicted? He will answer, Where is your faith? where is that promise I have made you? Have you made your self a Christian to be happy in the world? This were to make a virtue beggerly, wanton, and interessed, which must ever be payed with prosperities: we may well say, it resigned it self to God for good morsels, and not for honesty. It is much to be feared, lest the pleasures of the pre∣sent, may make it loose the tast of the recompence promised in Heaven, as it is said the dogs, which hunt∣ed among the flowers of Mount Gibel, lost hereto∣fore the tracks of the hare.

If following good Policie, we should be unhappy towards the world, we might ever comfort the cap∣tivity of our body by the liberty of our mind, and guild our chains of glory with our virtues. We should enter into the community of great spirits, who have done all good, to endure all evil; we should much more rejoyce to be in the bottom of the pri∣son with S. Paul, than in the heaven on earth, which Cosroes the Persian King caused to be built. But God is not so harsh to a good conscience, that he desireth to hold it still in the incommodities of present life: but much otherwise, if you will well discourse, there will be found an infinite number of good Princes, ex∣cellent Magistrates, and all sorts of persons qualified, who pursuing the way of honesty, have been most prosperous in the mannage of affairs. And if you consider your Politicians, who make profession to re∣fine all the world, either you have seen but the first station of their plaistered felicity, or have ever found great labyrinths, horrible confusions, fortunes little lasting, dejection in their posterity, hatred, and the execration of Ages.

I think, I have fully illustrated these truths in the histories which I have written of Herod, Theodosius, Maximus, Eugenius, Constantine, Dioclesian, Constans, Jalian, and divers others.

And if you yet desire to behold with a ready eye, how there is no policie powerfull against God, and how he surprizeth the most subtile, making snares of their greatest cunning to captive them; behold Jo∣seph, sold by his wicked brothers, for fear he should be honoured, and yet see him honoured because he was sold. Behold Haman, who practised the ruin of the Hebrews, to raise himself; and see him raised on a gibbet of fifty cubits high, to humble him. Behold Jonas, who would also be a Politician con∣trary to the counsels of his Master; yet tempests pur∣sued him, the lot served him for an arrest, the sea for a Mistress of constancy, the belly of a Whale, which should be his sepulcher, for a Palace. He came to the haven by ship-wrack, much more safe in the en∣trails of a fish, than in a ship. Behold Pharaoh, who becomes crafty, and thinketh by ruinating the Israe∣lites, his Scepter is throughly established: God sur∣prizeth him in subtility, and makes him know the op∣pression of this poor people, is the instrument of his ruin. A little child, which lieth floating on the wa∣ters of Nilus, in a cradle of bulrushes, as a worm hid∣den in straw, and whose afflicted mother measureth his tomb with her eyes in every billow of this faith∣less element, is delivered from peril by the very bloud of Pharaoh, to turn the Diadem of Pharaoh into dust, and bury him all enflamed in a gulf of the Red-sea. Behold Jeroboam, who revolting against * 2.243 his Prince, raised a State by ambition, and a Reli∣gion out of fantasie, having seen the Altars crack with the horrour of his crime, yet his heart still re∣maining more obdurate than stone, in the end he is so chastised by the hand of God, that there was not left so much as one handfull of dust of his house up∣on the face of the earth. Behold Absalom, who thought the means to mount up to a Throne, was to make a foot-stool by force of Arms of the crowned head of his father: yet see him entangled in a tree, transfixed with three spears, and thrown into a deep pit, which left nothing of him alive, but the memory of his misery. Behold Saul, who makes shew pun∣ctually to obey the law of God under the direction of Samuel, he afterwards learns to become cunning, plotting designs, and seeking in all points his own petty interests: but in the end David, whose life he judged incompatible with his own estate, dismount∣ed him, using no other Policie, but by making himself an honest man.

Behold the Monarchies of the world, so much dis∣puted on, behold Scepters hanging on a silken thread, the Empires, and lives of Otho, Vitellins, Galba, Piso, Balbinus, Florianus, Basilius, Silvianus, Tacitus, Quinti∣lius, Maximus, Michael Colophates. Behold the fall of Parm••••io under Alexander, Sejanus under Tybe∣rius, Cleander under Commodus, Ablavius under Con∣stantine, Eutropius under Arcadius, Vignius under Fre∣derick, Brocas under Philip, Cabreca under Peter, and so many of the like kind.

Either you shall make your self wholly insensible, or must affirm, that to raise a State, and build a for∣tune, you are to proceed securely therein, with a very great tie upon the maxims of faith, religion, and honesty, unless you will expect in the course of an uncertain life a most certain ruin. And yet you still doubt to enter into the Citie of good Policie. Oh, had you once tasted those delights, you would become wholly enamoured of them, but I see it is fit I make a piece of painting for you, to oppose that wicked Policie.

The fourth SECTION. The Table of the Citie of God, otherwise cal∣led, The Citie of honest men; drawn out of many excellent conceits of ancient Au∣thours, and things practised in some former Common-wealths.

I Will tell you than, thet I have seen in the idae∣aes of Plato this Divine Agathopolis, and that my mind is still much pleased with the remember∣ance of this spectacle. Expect not I should describe unto you the Countrey nor Citie with curiositie of language, for I leave that to Poets and Oratours, who have more leisure than I. Onely I intreat you to believe, that all which delicate pens of antiqui∣tie have written of Elisian fields, and the fortunate Islands, are in it to be found, with many advanta∣ges, which we may much better conceive than ex∣press. The Heavens are there smiling, the air whole∣som, the waters good, the seasons temperate, the winds calm, the ground fertile, the abode delight∣full, the hills and valleys watered with goodly foun∣tains, shadowed with many trees, covered with vines, enamelled with flowers, tapistred with mea∣dows, bristled with ears of corn; on what side soe∣ver you turn, it seemeth the Providence of God hath taken much pleasure to embellish this territory with his own hands.

I will not speak to you at all of the walls, Tow∣wers, Bulwarks, Bastions, Theaters, Amphithea∣ters, Colossesses, Edifices, and other the like; for herein this fortunate Citie hath not grounded its greatness, although there were to be seen buildings, as admirable, as if the Angels of Heaven were come down on earth, to undertake the direction thereof. I took it for a good presage; when I saw at the en∣terance of the Citie a great number of minds, mo∣dest, stout, and resolved, who went to the fount∣ains to draw water, and bare the pitcher on their shoulders, as that ancient Rebecca, of whom it is spoken in Scripture, labouring like bees in a bright summers day. I saw over the gate of the Citie a great statue of the Sun in the sign of Libra, which made me suppose, that all was mannaged within it, as are the days and the nights in the Equinoctial. I was not deceived in the judgement I made upon it, for there were not so much as clocks out of order, in such sort, that they struck all together, and mutually met at every hour of the day.

It was a contentment to me to walk on a pave∣ment, even and smooth, and to behold streets very fair, where there was neither stench, dirt, chan∣nels,

coach-man, caroch, nor lash of whips, smoak of roasts, criers, much tattle, running up and down, sinks, perfumes of Carpet-knights, waggish tricks of lac∣keys, nor sleights of cut-purses proud gates of Rodo∣monts, nor leaders of Bears, nor Mountebanks, nor pettyfoggers, quarrelers, drunkards, ale-houses, nor any of those which draw tribute from humane flesh. The whole world there was busied, and there was not an idle boy: onely you might see children very yong, who played at a most innocent game, and bare in their childish faces the goodness of fathers and mo∣thers, imprinted with an excellent character.

I learned the principal scope of their great felicity, was a most genuine simplicity, which reigned a∣mongst all the inhabitants; not that they were stupid, or witless; for accosting them, I soon perceived they had spirits clear-sighted and well purified; but all their study was to make a harmony between their heart and tongue, and to proceed in all things they undertook with marvellous freedom: they were in∣finitely amazed when it was told them, there were in other Countreys counterfeit men, who spake contra∣ry to their knowledge, and thinking one thing in their hearts, affirmed the contrary with their tongues. They thought it impossible, and used comparisons of their clocks, where the wheel and the hand went ever a like pace. And when I insisted, and grounded my self upon experience of what I had seen and heard, they concluded it may well then be said, those men there are spiritual Centaurs, composed of two natures.

And it being told them, there were Ladies and Gentlewomen in other Provinces, which wore sump∣tuous apparel, plaited, bumbasted, slashed, loaden with precious stones and chains, which had the spoils of the dead upon their heads, draw-bridges tyed to their feet, and that they bestowed a quarter of their lives in combing, and plaistering their faces: the wo∣men of this Countrey had much compassion hereof, and spake with tears in their eyes: Alas poor creatures! we may well say they have committed enormous sins, to carry themselves thus. And when it was answered, the greatest ambition which these Ladies had in the world, was to use this custom, they made many signs of the Cross, asking whether they were innocents, they would not absolutely say, fools?

Hereunto was added a tale, that in the year of an universal peace, there was a Ladie, who travelling with her husband into some other Province, had learned a certain manner how to beautifie her face, which she very curiously made use of; the rest per∣ceiving it, caused her to play at King and Queen, which was a pastime, where the Ladie, who became Empress by the custom of the game, commanded the rest what she thought good, and all yielded obedience to her. The Empress chosen, imposed upon all her train to wash their faces, which this counterfeit wo∣man being inforced to do, as the water dissolved the painting, and that she appeared as she was, the con∣fusion of her forehead was so excessive, that she as it were died with grief, not daring afterward to un∣dertake the like. Their attire port, gate, countenance, words, houses, moveables, tables, recreations, were carried with simplicity, yet accompanied with maje∣sty, civility, decorum, and seasoned with as true plea∣sures, as humane life may afford.

I saw many old men of an hundred years and up∣ward, who were yet very fresh, whereat I was much amazed, and one of them looking on me:

Why (saith he) do you wonder? We live here on inno∣cent meats, whereby it cometh to pass, that we do not so much as know the names of diseases, of which (it is said) you have huge registers, which are the purchasers of your intemperance. We have here no desire to drie up our entrails, and shorten our days; we are all great in the obedience we render to the law▪ all rich in the contentment of our desires; and all pleased with the happiness one of another. We have no passion to tear our hearts, nor cares to pre∣judice our lives, nor avarice to burn us up alive in our houses, nor ambition to make us wings fastened on with wax, so to flie up to the clouds, and make both land and sea famous by our falls. We have an excellent law, which is, never to proceed against the law of nature; and to tell you the truth, the igno∣rance of sins, wherein we live, serves us better than all the precepts of virtue do others.

There is no war among us but against vices, which we rather desire to vanquish, than all sorts of mon∣sters. We know not what plagues mean, because we neither infect the air nor land with blasphemies or bloud. The seasons of the year have with us the same equality which our spirits enjoy, and the sun smileth on us in all his mansions, as we endeavour to have a charity perpetually smiling and the bow∣els of compassion towards our like. When we would behold goodly Theaters, we reduce into our memory the vanities of men, to bewail them so much as they are frivolous. We see this great spe∣ctacle of the world, which it is very hard to imitate, and to fault it, is a crime.

The greatest eloquence among us, is truth, and the first science we teach our children, is that which instructeth them not to tell a lie. Above all, we endeavour piously to honour and serve God, uni∣ting us to his Spirit, and submitting our ways to the main stream of his Providence.

I stood very attentive to hear this old man speak: for I was in a good place; yet not contenting my self simply with what he had said, I needs would see their Churches, their devotions, their laws, and their justice, their commerce, and their Policie. I saw the places dedicated to the service of God, were exceedingly well governed, observed, and frequent∣ed, and that their devotion was not a slight fore of apish tricks, nor affected countenances, but a solid be∣lief of the Divinity with most pure affections. They had no great store of bells, nor took any pride to ring them, nor to publish festivals with much noise, nor to set up Fai•••• at the enterance into Churches, nor to sell jewels, not wear rich apparel, nor to glory in their kitchins. Their great solemnities were bet∣ter known by silence and devotion, than by any other exteriour ostent. It was a blessing, to behold that heresie had altered nothing, either in their do∣ctrine or manners; for they had ever declared them∣selves enemies of all innovation: and as it is said that fishes are silent, and draw near to the source of wa∣ters; so they banishing from their Citie all those con∣tentious disputations, set their mouthes to the fount∣ains of verity.

Thither came at the time whilest I was there, an able man, who thought to preach Controversies to them, and difficult distinctions of School-divinity; but the better sort of French-men demanded whether he preached in Hebrew or no. They could not en∣dure any one should perplex their consciences, by ve∣hemently raising up an infinite number of too subtile arguments, and many times unhonest; so much they feared to bring any mixture upon their innocency, finding more assistance in the lights of good nature, than the subtilities of men.

I considered how at their going from Church, they went to visit goodly great Hospitals, which were ex∣cellently well founded, and administered for the help of the poor, as well forreigners as domesticks: and I saw the most curious Ladies went confident∣ly into them with charitie in their hands, humb∣ling themselves to the services of the most indi∣gent. This made me so enamoured of their govern∣ment, that I judged it the quintessence of the same Theologie.

And verily, when I sought to inform my self of

their laws, I found they had as few, as their sound∣est men had medicines. They were all grounded on the doctrine of the Saviour of the world, namely on that word, which forbiddeth us to do that to others, which we would not to be done to our selves. Their state was Monarchal under the government of a good King, whom they honoured as a visible Divinity. This King had a Councel composed of the prime men of the world, who lived like Angels, and spake as Oracles; so much reverence they bare them, that when they appeared in the streets, they were seen to pass along with a certain silence ming∣led with veneration, as if they had been animated Reliques.

I likewise saw old Captains grown white in for∣reign wars, under the shadow of Palm-trees, and a flourishing warlike troup, readily disposed to do bravely upon occasion. The obedience was there so great, that if a souldier had his arm ready up to strike, upon the first sound of retreat, he would with∣hold the blow. All rewards were for virtues, and Fortune much complained, that she in this Countrey had neither Altar nor credit. Very rarely should you see a man advanced, but by long and faithfull trials of his merit: so that honours were there fasten∣ed, as it is said, with lyme and cement, because they sought for nothing more honourable from great a∣ctions, than the contentment to have done them.

All was there so peaceable, that it seemed this whole Citie was the nest of Halcyons, which calmeth the brow of Heaven, and appeaseth tempests. The Citi∣zens entertained one another, as the fingers on the hand, every one taking part of the good of his fellow: and it was a matter as rare to see a quarrel, as a mon∣ster brought from the utmost limits of Africk.

Needs must I confess I took a singular content, when one day passing through a street, I heard two old men, who discoursed in their language of for∣reign Countreys, and the one said to his compani∣on, that duels and quarrels were used there: the other would not believe him at all, thinking that two men who bare one and the same figure, could not contend one with another: but he persisted, and said he knew it to be true, and that the source of all their debates, was to say: It is mine, It is not: It is so, Yea, No. This narration so enkindled them, that * 2.244 they resolved to imitate those of whom they spake, and to have at least once in their lives a quarrel. But what endeavour soever they used, they would never confidently say, Yea, No. For as soon as one had pronounced, Yea, and began to make shew of con∣testation, the other said, Take it, I yield it. I leave you to think, whether any thing might be seen more pure than these souls.

In their commerces they so much feared to wrong their neighbours, that you would have said, they studied to deceive themselves, for fear to get from another; and if any one had gained ought by some mis-reckoning, he was half dead, and rose often∣times at midnight to hasten to make restitution, it being otherwise impossible for him to enjoy any repose.

I saw their Palace, which was a very beautifull piece, but the manner of suits and processes were there very rare; yet had I notwithstanding a vehe∣ment desire to hear them plead, at which time it was told me, that the next day a notable cause was to come to a hearing.

I failed not to be present thereat, and saw two men of the same condition, like those of whom S. Chry∣sostom wrote the history, who pleaded for a treasure. * 2.245 The matter was, the one had sold his land, and the other had bought it. The seller quickly laid hold of his money, and the buyer being entered into pos∣session, had begun to till the field, to have corn from thence: but not thinking thereof, he found gold in it; for coming to plow the land, he made disco∣very of a great treasure. But he, as much astonish∣ed as if he had found some venemous creature, or some mischievous piece of witch-craft, went direct∣ly to the seller to advertise him of what had passed, and wished him to take his gold again: but the other being unwilling to understand him in that kind, cau∣sed him to be called before the Judges. This was a business then handled with so much concourse of people, that never have I seen a cause so notorious. I had much ado to understand any thing of it, but certain broken words. The plaintive spake, How? Must men be used thus? You have sold me a field, and not given me notice there was a treasure hidden in it, why have you deceived me, why have you used such foul play with me? The defendant lifted up his hands to Heaven, and said: I swear and protest unto you by the faith of an honest man, that I did not this purpose∣ly. I sold you my land in all simplicity, not having the least suspition that there was any treasure. Well Sir, if you sold it with a sincere intention (saith the other to him) God pardon you, but I pray you come and take away your treasure. He again: Why should I take it? It belongs to you. The other: To me? What injustice is this! I bought land, and not gold. You purchased the land, answered the defendant, and all the appurte∣nances, it is reason that you possess all. The poor plaintif replied, sighing: Would you use me in this fa∣shion, and charge me with such unhappiness? Rather take your land again. I will not, said his adversary: it belongeth to you. Good God deliver me from such an unfortunate chance, I will have care how I engage my self in the like. In the end, the treasure was adjudged to him that bought the land, whereat he was much troubled, so that his friends had business enough to comfort him.

Oh Age! Oh goodness! Oh golden poverty! How much art thou now estranged from our man∣ners! I saw not there the Tornielle nor criminal process; for crimes were banished from thence, both by great severity of laws, and the excellent disposition of the people.

Every one was made to render an account very ex∣actly of the means he had to live on. And there was a certain girdle, as that of which Nicholas Damascene speaketh in his Policie, wherewith the just wideness of the wast was measured; and if any one were grown too gross, he had much ado to escape, unless he brought good witness that this happened not to him through idleness or excess of diet.

If a detractour were found, all his teeth were knocked out one after another: If a thief, melted gold was poured down his throat: If an homicide, he was put to be fed on by vulturs in an iron cage: If a blasphemer, his lips were seared with a hot iron, and his mouth so wed up: If a drunkard, he was put into a sack, and thrown into the water: If one un∣chaste, he was burnt with a soft fire, such horrour had they of vice.

Great volumes would be necessary to recount all the wonders of this celestial Agathopolis, which re∣quire some other scope than that which I have un∣dertaken. I will content my self to tell you for con∣clusion, that I saw in the middest of the Citie a great Pyramis of white marble, on which was set the sta∣tue of Justice, clothed with a robe all embroidered with stars, holding in one hand a book of laws, and in the other an ear of corn; about her were also pour∣trayed in embossed work, truth, wisdom, and the arts; and somewhat lower were beheld the statues of all the great States-men, with certain excellent precepts of Policie, engraven in brass; some copies whereof I have drawn out, which I, my Politician, desire to impart unto you.

The fifth SECTION. Sage Precepts drawn out of the Monuments of the divine Agathopolis.

HE is the greatest States-man, who to himself seemeth the least. Imagine not your great∣ness consisteth wholly to set up the Com∣mon-wealth of Plato and Xenophon in your own imagination, nor to lay together a huge heap of pre∣cepts, nor to know Cabales or mysteries, nor to make profession of great subtilities and stratagems: we have seen by the experience of all Ages, that in af∣fairs there is a certain stroke of the Divine Provi∣dence, which dazeleth all the wise, disarmeth the strong, and blindeth all the most politick, with their own proper lights.

Ordinarily the most unhappy in States have been those, who have made the greatest shew of know∣ledge, to deceive under humane Policie. That is it which ruined Jeroboam, which undid Saul, which overthrew the Common-wealth of the Athenians, and which made Machiavel with his great list of pre∣cepts to be disasterous in all his undertakings. These kind of subtile men better understand the mysterie of disputation, than how to live, to discourse than to counsel, and to speak, than to do. They all have as it were three things much opposite to good counsels.

The first is, that they are variable, fickle, and uncapable of repose; which is the cause, that as the Sun sometimes draweth up a great quantitie of vapours which he cannot dissipate, so they like∣wise, by this vivacitie perpetually active, do amass together a great heap of affairs, which their judge∣ment can never dissolve. The second is, that they swim in an infinite confusion of reasons and inven∣tions, resembling oftentimes bodies charged with too great abundance of bloud; who through a notable excess find death in the treasure of life. The third is, that seeking to withdraw themselves from common understanding, they figure to them∣selves subtilities, and chymaeraes, which are as the Towers of the Lamiae (as Tertullian speaks) on which no man hath thought, or ever will; which is the cause that their spirit floating in this great tyde of thoughts, seldom meeteth with the dispatch of an affair.

Adde likewise to this, that God is pleased to stupi∣fie all these great professours of knowledge, and make them drink in the cup of errour, in such sort, that we coming to discourse concerning their judgement, find they have committed many faults in the govern∣ment of Common-wealths, which the simplest pea∣sants would not have done in the direction of their own houses.

This hath been well observed by the Prophet Isaiah, when he said of the Councellours of Pha∣raoh: * 2.246 The Princes of Tanais are become fools, the Princes of Memphis are withered away, they have de∣ceived Aegypt with all the strength and beautie of her people: God hath sent amongst them a spirit of giddi∣ness, and made them reel up and down in all their acti∣ons like drunken men. The holy Job hath said the * 2.247 same in these terms: God suffereth these wise Coun∣cellours to fall into the bazards of senseless men. God maketh the Judges stupid, taketh away the sword and belt from Kings, to engirt their reins with a cord: God maketh the Priests to appear infamous, supplanteth the principal of the people, changeth the lips of truth-speak∣ers, taketh away the doctrine of old men, and poureth out contempt upon Princes.

Behold the menaces which the Sovereign Master pronounceth against those who wander from the true way; and therefore, my Politician, without per∣plexing your spirit with an infinity of precepts, which have been touched by a great diversitie of pens, I af∣firm, that all which you may here expect, consisteth in four things, which are as four elements of your perfection, to wit, Conscience, Capacitie, Discretion, and Courage.

The first and most necessary instruments of all arts, and namely of this profession, is Conscience; which verily is the most ancient Governess of the soul, and the most holy Mistress of life.

It is that, which will instantly dispose you to the end, whereunto you are to pretend in the exercise of an office. It is that which will tell you, that ha∣ving given your self to the publick, you are taken away from your self: that you must not enter into this Sanctuary of justice with a beggarly, base, or mercenary intention▪ but to aim sincerely at God, and the good of the Common-wealth. It is that, which will discover unto you those three wicked gulfs of ambition, avarice, and impuritie, which have swollowed all spirits dis-united from God. It is that which will teach you, that what is done in Heaven, is proportionably acted in a Mathematical circle; and that which is done in the great Regi∣ment of Angels, ought to be done in the government of men. It is that, which will firmly support you on the basis of the Eternal Providence. It is that, which will render you next unto God, by often thinking on God, and will make you speak what you think, and do what you speak.

It is that, which will instruct you, that the spirit of man is like a Sun-dyal, which is of no use but when the Sun reflecteth on it; and that you likewise ex∣pect not your understanding may have any true light and direction for the government of people, if not enlightened with a ray of God.

Besides, it will give you means to enter into a ho∣ly list of piety and justice, which are the two fund∣amental pillars of all great estates. Piety will as∣sign you two sorts of devotion, the one common, the other singular.

The common will cause you piously to honour and serve God, you first having most pure and chaste be∣liefs in that which concerneth true faith, without any mixture of curiosities and strange opinions: for * 2.248 it is a very great secret in matter of religion, not to believe of God but what he is; and that man ever knows him sufficiently, who is holily ignorant of him, esteeming him infinitly to transcend his knowledges. Secondly, it will apply you to divine Worship and publick ceremonies, in a manner free, cordial, and Religious, for the satisfaction of your interiour, and the example of the publlck.

Singular devotion will move you to consider, how being a publick person, and charged with affairs which expect the motion of the Divine Providence, you have a great dependance on Heaven, and that it therefore wil shew you according to the proportion of your time and leisure, some hour of retirement to negotiate particularly with God, in imitation of Moses, that great States-man, who had so familiar a recourse to the Tabernacle. For if that be true which S. Gregorie Nazianzen saith, that we ought to have God in mind, as often as we breath, it is so much the more suitable to States-men, as they have most need to suck in this life-giving spirit, as from the fountain of the Word, by the means of prayer.

Saint John Damascene in a Dialogue he made a∣gainst the Manichees, holdeth this opinion, That the greatest Angels are as clocks, which come in the end to languish and faint, if God do not continually draw them upward by the breath of his spirit: so must we say, that the goodliest Spirits, and strongest Intelligences lessen and wax old every moment, if they resume not vigour in the intellectual source, by the virtue of devotion.

When you shall be instructed in these principles, this wise Mistress, whom I call your conscience, will make you find in a right course the perfection of ju∣stice, which consisteth in four principal things.

The first is, neither to act, nor shew to your subjects the least suspition of evil or sin. For you must be∣gin your government by your own example; and since your spirit is the first wheel whereunto all the other are fastened, it is necessary to give it a good motion. It is held, when the Sun stood still in the time of Josuah, the Moon and all the Stars made the like pause. Governours and Masters have this proper to themselves, that in all they do, they pour forth their spirits into such of their subjects, who are for the most part neither good nor bad, but by the relation they have to the life of those, on whom their fortunes depend.

The second is, not to suffer an evil, since, as said * 2.249 Agapetus to the Emperour Justinian, to commit and permit crimes, when one hath full power to hinder them, is as it were one and the same thing. There are no flatteries so charming, nor importunities so forcible, which should ever make a well composed spirit to bend to the permission of a sin, which he knoweth to be against the honour of God, and the tranquilitie of his conscience. Fabricianus a Ro∣man Captain, in ruining a Fortress of the Samnites, kept their Venus, which he sent to Rome for the beauty of the workmanship, and it is thought the aspect of this statue was the first occasion of making his wife an adulteress, and caused him afterward to serve as a victim to the loves of this unchaste wo∣man by horrible massacre. It happeneth oftentimes, that Masters of families, who seem very innocent in their persons, retain scandals in their houses, through a certain pusillanimity and dissimulation, which draw upon them the chastisements of God, and disasters very extraordinary. The Scripture saith, the High Priest Eli was the lamp of God, be∣fore * 2.250 he was extinguished by a wicked toleration of the excesses of his children, which rent his house, and buried him in publick ruins. Take good heed there be not some houshold servant raised by your indulgence, who rendereth your favours odious, and liberalities criminal, by abuse of the power which you have put into his hands. Alkabicius the Astrologer observeth, there are stars of their own na∣ture benign, and which would ever behold us fa∣vourably, were it not the neighbour-hood of some others malign altered their sweet inclinations. And there are many Masters and Mistresses to be found in the world, endued with a humour exceedingly good, if the near approaches which bad servants make to their persons did not destroy this temper. That man * 2.251 is truly stout and happy, who findeth or maketh men of honour well disposed, faithfully affected, industrious, vigilant, laborious, indefatigable, so∣ber in speech, prompt in execution, patient and able in their charges; for good souldiers make glo∣rious Captains, and good Officers great States-men.

The third condition of the zeal of justice is, that you never be pleased an ill act be done under the shadow that you were not of counsel thereunto, or that it never came to your knowledge. You may very well rejoyce, not to have at all contributed to evil, yea, not to the birth of evil; for this were other∣wise to betray your conscience, which ought to have the same capacity to abhor all vices, and em∣brace all virtues, as faith inclineth to believe all ve∣rities revealed unto it. I leave you to think, what conscience Sextus Pompeius of elder time had, to whom, as he entertained Augustus and Mark Antho∣nie in his ship, and being in the heat of his feast, a servant came to tell him, if so he pleased, he quickly would put these two Princes into his power, thereby to make him Monarch of the world: He a little while thinking on this matter, said to him who brought the news, Thou shouldst have done it, and ne∣ver told me of it. This well shewed he bare some re∣spect to fidelity, but was very far from that perfection which hateth evil, yea, even that which is out of the compass of ones own knowledge.

The fourth is, that you must correct disorders, as much as you possibly may, declaring you have a natural horrour against all sins, which resist laws both divine and humane, and that the love of hone∣sty hath made you to pass it as it were into your na∣ture. I do not see where the virtue of a great States-man may shew it self with more lustre, than in the exercise of justice. S. Gregorie the Great saith, A * 2.252 mixture of oyl and wine must be made to heal the wounds of men in such sort, that minds may not be ulcered with too much severity, nor grow remiss by an excess of indulgence. The rod must be used to touch, and the staff to support; love should not soften, nor rigour transport matters into despair. Moses, the first States-man, burned inwardly with the fire of charity, and was outwardly wholly en∣kindled with the flames of the zeal of justice. As a loving father he offered his soul to God, even to the wish to be blotted out of the book of life to save his people: as a Judge he took the sword, and bathed it in the bloud of Idolaters. He was in all kinds both a couragious Embassadour, and an admirable media∣tour, pleading before God the cause of his people with prayers, and before his people the cause of God with the sword.

It is to do all, to execute good justice; God * 2.253 hath set you on high for no other cause, but to be∣hold vices beneath: if you exalt them, they will trample you under-foot, you shall perpetually drink the greatest part of the poison you mingled for o∣thers; and when you shall break down the hedge, the snake (as the Scripture threateneth) will sting you * 2.254 the first. When a good conscience hath accommo∣dated you with this condition, so that you have no other intention but to advance goodness in your own person, and in those who belong to you, you are not a little advanced in the perfections of a great States∣man: yet it is fit, Conscience, Science, and Capacity be had for the discharge of great employments, and especially by him, who makes profession to govern men sometimes as untractable as Hydra's of many heads.

Campanus Bishop of Terni, of whom we have some * 2.255 Works in the Bibliotheca Patrum, in the book which he composed of magistracy, requireth four conditions in him: A wit vigorous, a carriage neither dejected nor unpleasing a prudence full of maturity, when there is occasion to consult upon an affair; and a promptness to take time in the instant, to execute that which hath once been well resolved on.

He saith a vigorous wit, for it is very fit the soul should be full of lights and flames which is to serve others for a guide; and as there is no wit so great which hath not many defects, so it is very necessa∣ry it be polished by good letters, which unite and incorporate in one sole man the faculties of many others, and by the conference of the wise, which ta∣keth away all that which excellent natures do as yet retain of terrestrial, to make them appear in their best lustre.

A man, saith this Authour, who thinketh to know all, and do all, without having any need of the counsel of others, is necessarily of two things the one, either a God amongst mortals, or a beast among men. The Scripture speaking of the great sea of brass, which Solomon made in the Temple, saith in the book of Paralipomenon, * 2.256 that it contained three thousand measures, and the third book of Kings affords it but two thousand. * 2.257 This seemeth to involve some contradiction, which

Tostatus cleareth in saying, this great vessel in truth amounted to three thousand measures, but that there was never poured out any more thereof than two thousand. So is it with the wits of men how capa∣ble soever; we are not to cloy them with charges and affairs so far as to exhaust them, but to divide burdens in proportion, since there is none but God alone of ability for all. The presumption of those who will undertake above their forces, so to leave nothing for others to do, much more hurteth than would stupidity.

He addeth, to wit, the shape of body, which is not * 2.258 a little recommendable in the stature, figure, port, gate, age, countenance, speech, and even in the very habit. All this when it is eminent, surprizeth minds, and striketh its stroak to give estimation to a man be∣fore we enter into his interiour: but if the house an∣swer not to the frontispiece, what may we else say, but that nature hath built up a goodly mansion to lodge therein a handsom beast?

What he hath said in the third and fourth place of prudence natural and acquired, which some have to deliberate and well resolve on an affair, ac∣companied with a stout resolution and a very strict execution, is verily most necessary in a great States-man.

There are ordinarily two great rocks in this sea of affairs, which have in them oppositions very con∣trary in negotiation of things important. The one is irresolution, and the other obstinacy in opinion. Irresolution ever holds men suspended in the air, and tormenteth subjects who expect their dispatches and directions from the counsel of those who delibe∣rate. Obstinacy through a false presumption of abi∣lity, will never forgo what hath been once propo∣sed, and resembleth a rude Portress, which driveth all good advise from the house. One would not be∣lieve the hurt this last plague draweth upon all good counsels, and how hard it is to be cured. Verily it is a prodigie, that God, who discovereth from the superiour vaults of Heaven to the bottom of the abyss, the least atoms of the world, and who is so clear-sighted, that hell hath not darkness thick e∣nough to hide it self before him; notwithstanding all-wise as he is, to dissolve our pride, he feigneth * 2.259 some repentance in his actions; but we, whose thoughts are timorous, fore-sights uncertain, actions confused, oftentimes have so much arrogance, as to be desirous to make good our faults, for fear to con∣fess our errours.

A maxim of Politicians maintaineth, it is to di∣minish * 2.260 authority, to do that which must be undone; for ever it is better to stifle a monster in his birth which one hath begot, than shortly after to foment and nourish it with humane bloud. Ahasuer us revo∣king * 2.261 the cruel Edict, which he made conceming the massacre of the Hebrews, yieldeth a pertinent reason thereof, saying, This diversitie of decrees proceeded not from the levity of his spirit, but from the alter∣ations of times, which make way for affairs that are treated.

As for execution which followeth deliberation, it is verily the hardest piece: for there are many to be found, who deliberate, as the rat in the fable, to hang a little bell about the cats neck, to fortifie their Common-wealth against surprizes. Counsel is received by all with applause; but when they come to execution, every one turns his back. It is not to be imagined, how much a man who executeth affairs prudently resolved on either of himself, or by such as are very trusty, hath eminence above others in matter of government. King Antigonus said, his warfare was rather a warfare of times and occasions, than arms: and Polybius writeth, that the least things, which * 2.262 are done in war are those which are handled with sword and violence; but the most eminent are exe∣cuted by the knowledge, how fitly to manage an occasion.

Behold in a nearer degree the qualities which form the capacity of a States-man, not enlarging my self to speak here of others, especially of those that are put into the number of blessings, which the common sort attribute to fortune.

But a man may have all possible inclinations, and might notwithstanding be ever like those musicians, who performed all their musick in wardly, no man hearing any of it outwardly, if he produced not him∣self in direction, which is the application of all the gifts of grace and nature, that a man can have for the practise and course of affairs.

This direction will teach you a marvellous secret, * 2.263 which is to proportion your self to time, place, per∣sons, affairs treated, and to measure your self in such manner, that your actions may be profitable for all the world. It will bring you forth from behind the cur∣tain, and advance you on the Theater, to see and to be seen reciprocally by all those who have eyes. There it is, where you are not to present any thing that is sordid, dejected, proud, furious, light, fearfull, nor passionate: for great fortunes have this property, to extrude all the blemishes of the heart into the fore∣head; and although much art may be used to hide ones self, they make a man appear naked, who never is well clothed with habiliments of fortune, if he have not true ornaments of virtue.

What think you, if men be now adays so curi∣ous as to vaunt to see spots in the Sun, where will they not find fault, especially if they have a subject given them? Great excuses serve for no other pur∣pose, but to cover vice, which truth discovereth, and same publisheth, with as many trumpets as men have mouthes.

This sage advise will tell you that it is not necessary you, shewing your self in publick, must therefore make all your defects appear, and what ever you bear upon your beart, as if you had a breast of christal; but also that the way well to cover your passions is to have none. I say not, you ought to be without resentments and inclinations; for as those places, where there is neither sound nor motion, savour ill; so souls thus deafened are not always the most purified: but I pro∣nounce, you must so repress all motions which com∣hat against reason, that they sparkle not in publick, both to your own disadvantage, and the ill example of those who behold you.

Philosophers have noted, that thunders which stir about break of day are the most dangerous, and you shall observe if a man in the first rays of his dig∣nity early discover covetousness, love, hatred, revenge, avarice, and other passions, which much hasten to the prejudice of the publick, and that the voice of the people be raised up, as the roaring of thunder, he loo∣seth as much reputation, as if he were already cor∣rupted in mind.

Discretion will also shew you the way how to man∣age your dignity in a manner neither too harsh arro∣gant, nor haughty; but sweet, affible and commu∣nicative: and with it to retain an, honest and tempe∣rate gravity, thereby to villifie the character which God hath imprinted on those, whom he calleth to charges and commands.

It was a pleasant mockery to behold those Kings of Aegypt appear daily in new habits, with the fi∣gures of beasts birds and fishes, to put terrour up∣on the people, and give subject to Poets to make fables of Protous. This affected gravity, is not in the manners of Great men, who naturally love nothing of singularity above others, but the emi∣nence of their excellent qualities. Our spirits are not so base and childish, as to be satisfied with sem∣blances: they desire some thing more solid: and he is ever best esteemed among the wise, who is more

respected for the interiour than the outward seeming.

Discretion will discover unto you the conditions, manners, inclinations, abilities, and wants of those whom you are to govern, and with a finger shew you the bent, which way you must encline, to lay hold of men. It is at this day no small matter, to mannage humours, which are as different as they are incompatible. The problem of the wolf, the goat, and the colewort, is daily renewed. If a ferri-man find himself much troubled to pass these three things severally from one side of the river to the other, that the wolf may do no hurt to the goat, nor the goat to the colewort in his absence; what prudence think you must a States-man have, to accord so many dogs and hares, hawks and doves? Saint Gregorie saith, Paradise hath nothing in it but blessed souls, and hell is filled with miserable: but the world wherein we live, containeth merchants very different. You shall behold under your government a great number of simple, innocent, poor, and afflicted creatures. Think * 2.264 God hath principally created you for them, open your heart with an amorous compassion, extend to them the bowels of your charity, stretch out affe∣ctionately to them your helpfull hands, take their requests, lend ear to their cries, cause their affairs to be speedily dispatched, not drawing them along in delays which may devour them, strengthen your arm against those that oppress them, redeem the prey out of the Lions throat, and the Harpies ta∣lons.

For this it is, that Kings, Princes, States, and Of∣ficers are made. To actions of this kind is it, that God promiseth all the blessings of Heaven and ad∣mirations of earth. For this sort of processes are crowns of glory prepared. By this means a man di∣veth into the bottom of the heart and good opinion of people. This is the cause, that one hath so many souls and lives at command, as there are men, who the more sweetly breath air by the liberality where∣with they are obliged. The greatness of man before God, is not to replenish earth with armies, and make rivers of bloud, and to raise up mountains of dead bodies, but to do justice to a poor orphan, to wipe away the tears of a forlorn widow, to steep in oyl (as the Scripture speaketh) the yoke of people which live on gall and worm-wood. For, not touching here any thing in particular, we know, that in all Realms of Christendom there are very many persons, who sigh under necessities almost intolerable to the most savage, and who daily charge eares with complaints, and Altars with vows for their deli∣verance.

Now that we have a King so well disposed to ju∣stice, and near his person so sage a Councel, a Parlia∣ment so zealous for the publick good, so many ho∣nourable men, endowed with so sincere intentions, when may we reasonably expect the comfort of peo∣ple, if not at this hour, when miseries are eminent, cla∣mours piercing, and dispositions very good? Alas, if there be any thing in the world, wherein a great States-man may be seen to oblige the present, and re∣plenish the future times with admiration of his vir∣tues, it is in procuring the advancement of so holy an affair, for which Heaven is in expectation, and the hands of so many thousands of people are daily lifted upon Altars.

Such and so many Officers, for not having had any other aim in charges, but the accommodation of their own affairs, have passed away like phantasms, lea∣ving nothing here behind them but ordure, nor bearing ought with them into the other world but crimes. They have found, that the souls of the wound∣ed * 2.265 have cried to Heaven against them, and that God hath not let it pass without revenge, as speaketh holy Job in the four and twentieth Chapter, where he at large explicateth both the calamity of the poor, and the chastisement of the rich who persecute them. But all those who have constantly addicted themselves to the maintenance of justice, and the consolation of af∣flicted persons, besides the Crowns which they enjoy in Heaven, live gloriously in the memory of men. Their mouthes, which are opened for justice, after * 2.266 they are shut up as Temples, are truly worthy to have lillies and roses strewed on the marble which inclo∣seth them, and that their posterity may also reap the good odour of the virtues of their noble ancestours, which hath made it march with up-rear'd head be∣fore the face of the people.

You on the other part shall behold travels and laudable actions, which good judgement will invite you to recompence; wherein you must shew your self generous and liberal. For, although virtue be always well enough payed with its own merit, yet must we affirm it to be one of the greatest disorders which may happen in a State, when in sowing bene∣fits, nought else is reaped but ingratitude, and that to be capable of rewards, one must become remarkeable in crimes.

On the other side, there will be many defects pre∣sented, that must be corrected, which are either of persons very well conditioned, fallen into some slight offence by surprize; and such as these ought to be handled with much sweetness and clemency; or they are covert vices of some wicked consciences, which you neither ought, nor may as yet manifest; and here much industry and wisdom must be used to dislodge sin, and draw the winding serpent out of his den, as by the hand of the wise woman spoken of in Scri∣pture: or they are publick sins, of men resolved, who sin without hope of amendment to the infection of a Common-wealth; and here is it, you are to streng∣then your self with all your power, to take away the evil and evil men.

These are the precepts which S. Bonaventure giveth in his Treatise of the Wings of the Seraphin.

This discretion whereof I speak, will shew you the manner of proceeding in affairs; for it much importeth to lay hold of them by a certain handle which rendereth them much more easie. We see by experience, that those who make them spe∣ctacles of chrystal cut into diamond points, for one pistolet on a table, think they see a huge treasure, in such sort their eyes are filled with illusions, and yet their hand if they know not the secret, will be much troubled to find out the piece of gold they seek for.

This daily happeneth in the course of the world; affairs have an infinity of faces, which present them∣selves to our thoughts even then, when they are most subtile; but they are hollow imaginations, and he is really an able man, who knoweth how to lay his fin∣ger upon the point of a business, and grasp it, as it is said, at the right end.

You expect not here I should speak to you of the mannage of revenues, artillerie, arms, sea-affairs, forti∣fications, petitions, and decrees, they being matters much alienated from my profession, from whence I can derive no glory but by the confession of mine own ignorance. Every one must look into the sub∣stance, extent, and the quality of affairs he treateth, must learn what is profitable to be known for the discharge of his place, inform himself of that which he cannot of himself fore-know, willingly heark∣en to advices, examine and weigh them with matu∣rity. Avoid above all, six obstacles of good affairs, which are, Disorder, Confusion, Passion, Sollicitude, Irresolution, Precipitation; to do all things wari∣ly, and peaceably, so that no anxiety be shew∣ed, like unto Sejanus, a man who had more spirit * 2.267 than conscience, and of whom it is said, that in the middest of his greatest employments, he seemed ever idle.

There are some who give out many precepts upon every office, and do as if one should make a large dis∣course to a man by teaching him to go. Experience, which is a wise Mistress, so soon as she encountereth with a man endowed with some capacity, sheweth him much more than books.

Finally, your last liverie is Courage, which is ex∣ceedingly necessary for men of your profession. Ca∣listenes a disciple of Aristotle observeth, that the earth∣quake of the Isle of Delos, was an unlucky presage to the Cities of Buris and Helice, which were swallowed up in a gulf. So when the bodies of States-men, which are as this Island of the Sun, tremble and bow to favour, what may we expect but an absolute deso∣lation of Provinces? It is necessary to have a great courage to strengthen the arm against so great autho∣rity of iniquities and violences of men of quality, who will confound elements, and mix stars with the dust of the earth, to come to the end of their exorbitant pretensions.

A great courage, say I, to resist the secret allure∣ments, which occur on the part of allies and friends, especially of powerfull women, to whom nature hath afforded such dangerous attractives, that it is many times much easier to defend ones self from the horns of bulls, the tusks of bores, and the throat of Lions, than from the cunning practises of such crea∣tures.

A great courage in the manage of affairs, and words, that are to be used with certain persons, who are quickly angry and heated in their harness: what a brave virtue is it to endure and temper them with a mildness of spirit, peaceable, and charitable; as it is said, that with a honey-comb fountains of troubled water are cleansed and purified. An Ancient said, that * 2.268 he who can well suffer an injury is worthy of an Em∣pire; his onely silence will disarm a passionate man, and throw prostrate at his feet the same, who seemed * 2.269 to roar over his head.

A great courage also to tolerate the ingratefull, who often cast stones against those, who gave them honey; like unto those Atlantes, who shot arrows against the Sun.

A great courage likewise in the bad success of af∣fairs, which cannot always prosper according to the measure of our travel and good desires. And to tell you it in a word, a very able courage, when a man is ready to suffer the loss of office, disgrace, banish∣ment, poverty, imprisonment and permit rather to have the heart turned out of your belly, than any good resolution to be pulled from you, which may be conceived for the Weal publick.

If you desire to arrive at these precious endow∣ments, let the Scripture be ever represented before your eyes, as the pillar of clouds and flames, which conducted the army of the living God. There it is, where you shall learn maxims of State, scored out with most vigorous reflections of the wisdom of God, and where you shall trample under foot with a generous contempt so many illusions, which wretch∣ed souls seek for in the mouth of Pythonisses and Sor∣cerers. Read the books of Wisdom, the Prophets, the book of holy Job, and the divine Psalms of the King, chosen out according to Gods own heart. Consider the stream of so many Histories written in this thea∣ter of wonders, which are characters of fire, where∣with the Divine Providence is pleased to be figured to mortal eyes, that we may learn the punishment of crimes, and the crowns of virtues.

Represent unto your selves often in your idaeaes, those great States-men, who have flourished in the course of all Ages, and derive light and fire from their examples; to illuminate and inflame you in the self same list. Behold him who had been refined above all others in the school of God, I mean Moses: Who * 2.270 hath there been more humble in refusing charges, more obedient in accepting them, more faithfull in exercising them, more industrious in executing the commandements of God, more vigilant in govern∣ment of the people, more severe in the correction of vices, more patient in sufferance of the infirmities of subjects, and more zealous in the cordial love he bare to the whole world?

With these gifts he became the God of Mo∣narchs, he ruined the state of his enemies, he unloo∣sed the chains of an infinite number of slaves, he o∣pened seas, he manured wildernesses, he marched in the front of six hundred thousand men at arms, he lived laborious amongst shepheards, chaste in the Courts of Kings, temperate in government, a com∣panion of Angels in his retirement, and as it were * 2.271 a cabinet-friend of God, having continually Hea∣ven for object, and all greatness in contempt. He had blotted out all that which was man in him, by the purity of a conversation wholly celestial. The flesh was in him under such subjection, and the spi∣rit in such Empire, that he merited the name of God, in the resemblance of whom he was transfor∣med by the superabundance of his virtues.

Behold that great disciple of Moses, Josaah: what piety in the service of the Omnipotent, what sweet∣ness in government, what greatness of spirit in no∣ble enterprizes, what patience in difficulties, what prudence in direction, what dispatch in expeditions? It is no wonder if at the sight of these eminent qua∣lities, walls and Cities fell, Giants waxed pale, rivers retired back, the sun stood still, and one and thirty Kings underwent the yoke.

Behold Samuel, the Father, Master, and Judge of two Kings, the Doctour of Prophets, the Sanctuary of the poor, the pillar of the Church. Is it not a magnificent spectacle to see him go out of charge after so long a government, and so great a diversi∣tie of affairs, with a heart so untainted, and hands undefiled, as if he had perpetually conversed with Angels? Is it not a most heroical action which he did in the first of Kings, when after the election of * 2.272 Saul, having voluntarily resigned his dignity, he shewed himself with up-rear'd head in the midst of the people, and gave liberty to all the world, from the least to the greatest, to complain and make in∣formation against him before the King newly cho∣sen? If it may be found, that in his magistracy, he ever did the least wrong to any man, he is the••e ready to afford all satisfaction that may be thought fit. But as he had lived most innocently, at this word was lifted up a loud crie, proceeding from a ge∣neral consent of the people, which highly pro∣claimed the integritie of his justice. Is not this a praise of more value, than millions of gold and Empires.

But above all, reflect often on the Wisdom of God Incarnate, J••sus Christ, the Saviour of the world, as the prime model of all States-men, which the Prophet Isaiah hath exactly represented in the eleventh Chapter of his Prophesie, where he figu∣reth the Redeemer unto us in quality of a Judge, to serve for an instruction and an example to all poste∣rity. First, for as much as concerneth his perfecti∣ons, he gave him seven sorts of spirits very conso∣nant to a true Politician, to wit, the spirit of Wisdom and Understanding, the spirit of Counsel and Strength, the spirit of Science, of Piety, and the Fear of God, wherewith he was wholly replenished. Then de∣scribing his manner of proceeding, he saith: He shall not judge according to humane apparences, by the inconsiderate views of carnal eyes, and the rela∣tion of a rash tongue; but he shall do justice to the poor, and fortifie himself with all kind of vigour, for the defence of so many gentle souls, as are oppres∣sed in the world.

To this purpose he shall strike the earth with the

words of his mouth, using his tongue as a rod of correction, and shall overthrow the wicked with the breath of his lips.

Justice shall be so familiar to him, that he shall make use of it, as of a girdle of honour, or a rich bawd∣rick, which brave Captains wear. The effects of his government shall be so eminent, that the wolf under his reign shall be seen to cohabit with the lamb, the leopard with the goat, the calf with the lion, and little children to play with basilisks and aspicks: wil∣ling in these allegories to signifie, that he shall molli∣fie the most savage humours by his laws, to reduce them to the temper of reason.

Behold somewhat near, how this divine Writer describeth the Policie of the King of Monarchs.

All those who have insisted in his steps, have been glorious in the memory of men; and he that would number up through all Ages so many great States-men, should make a large Volume.

I will not at this time produce Melon Injurios••s, Carmerus, Robert, Aus••ert surnamed the Man of God, Oenus, Godegrandus, Ledwardus, Eginardus, Raoul, Fulbertus, Hildwinus, Monsieur Stephen of France, Guarinus, William of Mountaigue, Henrie Arnaudus of Corgues, Rochfort, and the most famous Thomas More; not speaking of so many other lights of A∣ges, which have illustrated us much nearer, where we may find a large list of uncorrupted men.

Many have so worthily filled the chairs of justice, that they have deserved to pass forward to Altars, there to possess the prime places of Prelacies.

I satisfie my self to draw out of Marcianus, Cassio∣dorus, Baronius, and ancient Manuscripts, the life of Boetius, where you may observe the body of History sufficiently replenished with matters very consider∣able.

[illustration]

ANIC. MANL. TORQVAT. SEVER. BOETIVS

BOETIUS.

The first SECTION. His great Nobilitie.

BEhold here how I make a great States-man to walk along in his rank, the honour of the gown, and the singular ornament of the purple garment; who hath had the priviledge to revive learn∣ing in his life, and at his death to bury all the Roman greatness in his tomb.

It is the most Illustrious Boetius, whom I have se∣lected almost in the first Ages of Christianitie, as the most accomplished personage, that hath flou∣rished in the quality of a man of the long robe throughout Christendom. For if you consider his extraction, it was the noblest of his time; if you re∣gard his means, he was of the most honestly rich; if you reflect on his wit, he dazeled the eyes of the most learned; if you behold his innocency, his life was as a pearl without blemish; If you weigh his dignity, he had been three times Consul of Rome; if you enquire

after his negotiations and government, you shall find he lived in the greatest revolutions of the Roman Em∣pire, when affairs were most thorny. If you will ob∣serve his constancy, you shall see a pillar of diamond not to be shaken with all the counterbuffs of iniqui∣ty: and if a brave death may set a seal upon a good life, you will be enforced to admire him, beholding him to die on a scaffold, for the defence of piety and justice, which are the two poles that support all the great Policie of this Universe.

The unhappiness is, there hath not been some Au∣thour found in that iron Age, to have written the acts of this great man in a stile suitable to his merit; we should have discovered marvellous treasures: but since I must make my way through so great a scarci∣ty of Writers, who have handled this subject, I will endeavour to render it as little irksom in stile, as it is profitable in matter.

As for the first quality I have observed in him, which is his great Nobility, it is certain he summed up a thousand years, since his Ancestours began to be resplendent with singular lustre in the Citie of Rome; which is no small space, to say, that ten Ages which waste rocks, and wear elements, had not altered the honour of this great Family.

He was descended from the house of those great Manlii, whose hearts extended as far as the Roman Empire. The most celebrated amongst them, named Marcus Manlius, defended the Capitol against the Gauls in the extream necessity of the Romans, and re∣deemed as it were from the abyss the Citie, which God had chosen to command over so many nations. He was a man truly valorous, who wanted nothing but to have been born in an ample Kingdom, and not in a Republick jealous of the greatness of its subjects: For, he having too much courted the People to the prejudice of Magistrates, was accused to have sought a change of government, and was precipitated from the Capitol which he had defended; to the end the theater of his glory might be turned into the scaffold of his punishment.

Never could any thing be seen more deplorable than this brave Captain, when pleading his cause, where he was upon question of his last unhappiness, having produced about four hundred Citizens, de∣livered from great necessities by his means, then thir∣tie spoils of noble enemies, whom he had slain with his own hand, then ten Crowns, then fourty other prizes of valour; as he beheld the incensed Judges much enclining to his ruin, he shewed his naked breast, as yet covered over with honourable scars re∣ceived in so many great battels for his Countrey; and then turning his eyes & his up-reard hands to heaven towards the Capitol, he prayed the Gods to give the People of Rome the same understanding for the pre∣servation of his person, that they had afforded him for the safety of the Weal-publick, in the defence of the Citie of Rome.

This spectacle was so ravishing, that it was impos∣sible to condemn him in sight of this noble fortress, which subsisted not but by his valour: but his ene∣mies causing him to be carried into another place, exercised a heavy judgement, and an act odious to po∣sterity, which was attended by great sterilities and pestilences, attributed to the death of this noble per∣sonage. The other Manlius very eminent, was he, who slew in single combat the Captain of the Gauls, in sight of both the Armies. For this man advan∣cing himself on a bridge, assailed, and defended by both parts, challenged aloud the most valorous a∣mong the Romans to combat man to man; which be∣ing understood, Manlius slowly came forth with the leave of his Dictatour, and having well observed his adversary, who immeasurably braved it, he struck him so nimbly, that he fell down stark dead in the list: then taking his chain off all bloudy, he hung it about his own neck, from whence he was surnamed Torquatus; which title did afterward likewise remain unto his whole posterity.

The third of this race much renowned in histories by an act, one of the severest ever exercised, was that Torquatus, who caused his sons head to be cut off, for having charged and vanquished his enemy with∣out leave. The young mantickled with the honour of his Ancestours, seeing a fair occasion to fight, took the opportunity. And not expecting the per∣mission of his father, overthrew the enemies of the Roman people, in killing with his own hands a man of note, in single combat, whereupon full of joy, he returneth with the applause of the souldiers, and hasteneth to seek out his father, who commanded the Army, bearing in his hands the spoils of his ene∣mies, and saying aloud: Father, behold the cause, why I may be esteemed your son. But the father turn∣ing his eyes away, caused the trumpet to be sound∣ed, to gather all the souldiers together, and in the middest of a great Assembly, as General he pro∣nounced sentence against his son, and said unto him: SON, Since without any respect, either of the dignitie of a Consul wherewith the Common-wealth hath honoured me, or the majestie of the title of a fa∣ther, which nature hath afforded me over you, you have fought contrary to my Edict, dissolving the sacred knot of military discipline, which hath hitherto maintain∣ed the greatness of the Roman State: I well see you have reduced affairs to such necessitie, that either I must forget the Common-wealth, or myself and mine. But God forbid the publick suffer for our faults, and that we must expiate the temeritie of one young man, by the disasters of so many innocent persons. Here an act of State must be performed, which is for the present somewhat odious, but shall be profitable for youth through all posteritie. My son, I have sense of nature, as a father, and as a Captain I resent also the stashes of this youthfull virtue, which is so charming in its illu∣sion: but since I must either by your impunitie annual, or by your bloud seal the commandment of the Consuls; you being of my bloud, I cannot think you so degenerate, as to deny to re-establish by your punishment the Laws of arms, which you by your errour have destroyed.

Thereupon he commanded the executioner to bind him, and lead him to the place of punishment, to be beheaded, wherewith the Assembly was so asto∣nished, as if all the Captains had their heads under the same sword. For every one was drenched in a deep silence, until the bloud of this young Prince was seen to gush forth; for then the souldiers spared neither sorrow nor execrations, taking the body by main force to cover it with its spoils, and enterre it with all honour.

I had a desire to touch this particularly, thereby to teach the Reader, that the great constancy which Bo∣etius witnessed in the whole course of his life, and especially at his death, was in him hereditary.

It were a long piece of work for him, who would prosecute all the acts of the Ancestours of Boetius, since by the report of Saint Hierom, this family hath been so illustrious, that scarcely can one man be found therein, which hath not enjoyed or deserved the Consulship.

Wherefore I may well say, it was a very particu∣lar Providence of God, upon this admirable man, which being pleased to raise him to the condition of a great States-man, hath caused him to be nobly born. For although it cannot be denied, but that many descended from very mean extraction, have sometimes exceedingly well improved in the man∣nage of States, yet must we affirm, they have stood in much need of time, diligence, and eminent virtues, to give a counterpoize to this defect of bloud. Ordina∣rily those who arise from these degrees, being derived from base birth, are many times envied, and little re∣spected,

whereby finding themselves offended, they often take harsh ways, to become powerfull in the minds of subjects by strong hand: whereas such as are of race noble and illustrious, cannot have so few other parts, but that they may easily enter into hearts, as into a house which the virtue of Ancestours hath beforehand wholly purchased for them. And though this seem expedient in all places, yet is it much more necessary in a State, where is a great number of no∣ble men and generous spirits, and where every one thinks himself sufficient enough to perform that which another doth.

Presumption equalleth them all in ability, at the least according to their imaginations, were it not that the uncontrolable supereminencie of houses makes them yield to reason. And although base nobility be very shamefull, yet is it much more tolerable than a servile spirit, which hath power in its hands without any moderation,

There are four things, saith the Wise-man, which cause earth-quakes here below, A servant imperious, * 2.273 a rich fool, a woman scornfull when she is married, and a maid-servant become the heir of her Mistress: that is, saith he, the fourth thing which the world cannot endure. Education maketh manners, and every one is readily that which he hath learned in youth, were it not, that through a great strength of courage ill in∣clinations are resisted.

Boetius, who in his excellent Nobility was endow∣ed with so sweet a temper of spirit, seemed to be cre∣ated of God to govern men. On the other part his family, which was rich and powerfull, gave also much increase to his command, as that which aliena∣ted him from the corruptions, that easily fasten on a necessitous fortune. A man who feareth poverty, is ever to be feared, and a rich innocent cannot meet with any thing more dangerous than a hungry judge.

Saint Thomas hath said very well, that a poverty * 2.274 virtuous and free from covetousness, is an admira∣ble quality for a States-man: but where shall we now adays find such a poverty, in a time, when riot is so exorbitant, that the greatest houses are there∣with impeached? The innocent riches of our great Consul fell out to be much to the purpose, so that they might be employed for aid of the poor, in a time which happened in one of the sickliest Ages of the world, ruined by so many incursions of Barba∣rians, not naming the other scourges, which then fought against the sins of men.

The second SECTION. The eminent wisdom and learning of Boetius.

EXperience, the wisest Mistress of the world, hath sometimes caused the saying of Plato to be questioned, who thought Common-wealths happy when they fell into the hands of Philosophers, or of men who sought to become Philosophers. For in effect it is observed, that those so knowing men meet not always with the bent of common under∣standing, having their spirits more estranged from ci∣vil life. They please themselves with great Ideaes, as if they conversed in the Common-wealth of Plato with demy-gods, not at all yielding to infirmities of nature. And although they use some endeavour to render themselves conversable, yet doth the sweetness of repose inebriate and withdraw them from affairs: but if they force themselves to attend them, noise amazeth them, diversitie of humours not always suitable to their understanding distasteth them, la∣bour somewhat painfull overwhelmeth them, and the heap of so many incident occasions confound∣eth them.

Adde hereunto, that there is much malice in the manners of men, not found in books, and that their actions being very innocent, when they come to mea∣sure others by their own level, they find themselves deceived. Besides, the sedentary and retired life spent in the entertainment of their books, rendereth them very timorous, and softeneth their brow, which should always be as it were of brass, to endure the shock of strong impudencies, which may insinuate themselves into the corruptions of the times.

This may be confirmed by the example of Theoda∣tes King of the Goths, who with all the Philosophy of Plato, wherein he was exceedingly studious, very ill mannaged his affairs.

As also by Michael the Emperour, surnamed of the Grecians, Parapanicius, as who would say, The Schollar: for he perpetually had table-books and pens in his hand, to compose Orations, Verses, and Histories, resigning the whole government of his af∣fairs to an Eunuch, named Nicephorus, who through his insatiable avarice drew much hatred upon the head of this Emperour.

I verily affirm, if you take learning in these exces∣ses, one may very well say, that it would not onely become unprofitable, but also dangerous to princi∣pality. It is not my intention to prove learned men are capable of the mannage of great affairs for the onely consideration of the advantage they have in letters, for then Governours of Provinces were to be taken out of the Regencies of schools; but I say, that sciences well mannaged, adde a marvellous lu∣stre to one in government. For first, they vindicate him from stupidity and a savage life, which maketh a man without sight or knowledge of virtue, to be in a State, as was Poliphemus, made blind by Ulys∣ses, in his den. Besides, they cleanse, refine, and store the soul, made to know great and divine lights. Af∣terwards, they open the understanding by the read∣ing of so many excellent books, and even unloose the tongue, which is an instrument very necessary to mannage hearts. Finally, they make a man more mild, civil, and courteous, and I could say also more awfull and worthy of credit.

For if some unhappy Princes were produced, who being unfurnished of other talents, have made ill use of letters, by abusing them through want of judgement, as one may all the best things in the world; this nothing at all in substance lesseneth the truth of our proposition, since we may oppose against them a large list of Law-makers, Princes, and Gover∣nours, who have exceedingly well made use of the knowledge of learning. For if we make account of the policie of God, which is ever the most assured, know we not, that he having chosen Moses to consti∣tute him the Governour of so great a State, was wil∣ling he might have a good tast of all the sciences then in request among the Aegyptians? And Philo saith, that he there learned Arithmetick, Geometrie, Mu∣sick, and all the greatest secrets of their Philosophie, contained in their Hieroglyphicks. Know we not that Solomon had a heart as large as the sea, wherein God lodged so many knowledges of things both di∣vine and humane, that he penetrated whatsoever the understanding of man, enlightened with rays from God, might comprehend?

Are we so little versed in History, that we cannot reckon up the names of all the greatest Princes, who have been very learned, as Alexander, Julius Caesar, Augustus, Adrian, Antoninus, Constantine, Theodosius, Gratian, Charlemaigne, Alphonsus, yea, even Solyman the great Turk? What a could of witnesses should we have, did we now collect all the names and histo∣ries of learned States-men? For if letters give orna∣ment to such as are wholly eminent in military pro∣fession, by a much stronger reason we are to think they are able to advance the lustre of an excellent

Governour, vowed to the Robe, and to a life peace∣able, as Seneca and Cicero.

I have been the more willing purposely to use this Preface, to the end that coming presently to speak of the great learning of our Boetius, it might not diminish the credit we ought to have of his abilitie in state-affairs. It is sometimes so dangerous to be * 2.275 learned among gross spirits, that the tenth Age, which was very dull, made as it were the good Pope Silvester the II. pass for a Magician, because he un∣derstood Geometrie. And it is not above four-score years ago, that to know Greek and Negromancie, were as it were one and the same thing in the opini∣on of the ignorant.

He that proceedeth by such bruitish ways, would take Boetius for a Devil, such knowledge had he: for it must be confessed, that in the revolution of so many ages, there hath not been many seen who ar∣rived to such a degree of science. As our spirits are limited, so every one freely taketh his share, accord∣ing as his inclination leadeth him, his aim moveth him, his understanding transporteth him, his la∣bour supporteth him: and he that cannot prevail in one science, applieth himself to another, since the di∣versitie of arts is so great, that it is able to satisfie the most curious, allure the most nice,, and encou∣rage the weakest. But as for our Boetius, he entred into the secrets of all sciences, and as there was no∣thing too holy for his great virtue, so might not any thing be found so elate, as to exempt it self from the vivacitie of his spirit.

Julius Scaliger hath very well given testimonie of * 2.276 him according to his merit, when he said, the wit, learning, industry, and wisdom of Severinus Boetius, challenged all the Authors of the world as well Graecians as Latines, not excepting any. He addeth, that all which he composed in Poesie was divine, and that nothing might be found either more elegant or grave; in such manner, that the abundance of su∣pereminent conceits choaked not the grace, nor curi∣ositie, took any thing from the proprietie thereof.

And whereas he writeth, that his prose seemed not equal to the verse, but retained somewhat of the barbarism of that Age, I assure my self Scaliger may have taken some works falsly attributed to Bo∣etius, as there are in the great Mass compiled under his name, which have likewise deceived Car∣dinal Baronius, who imputeth the book of the Disci∣pline of Schollars to him, which is one of the most sil∣ly pieces that could come from a man alienated from common sense.

Among other things this Author saith, that he hath been in the Citie of Julius Caesar, called Paris to take the air, and that he there hath seen many bad schollers, discoursing of Nations, and giving a face to the Universitie, as it had in later times; which will seem ridiculous to every one who shall consider the life of Boetius, and the times wherein he flourished. It is no wonder, if those who have ad∣mitted such works for pieces of Boetius, not through want of judgement, which hath been in these two personages, whom I mention very great, but for fault of giving time to examine them, they there have found matters, which with them have lessened the opinion of such an Author.

But this is very certain, that all which is extant of this brave Writer, hath in it vigour, grace, puritie, spirit, and excellent good consequence: as appear∣eth in the books of Consolation. As for the rest he hath not so confined himself in this great elo∣quence, but that he entereth into the most profound questions of Philosophie and Theologie: and should he have no other honour, but to make Aristotle first speak Latine, who was unknown in the West, I should make much more account of him, than if he had raised Orpheus up again with his Harp. The great knowledge he had of Geography, Arithme∣tick, Musick, and all which concern the Mathe∣maticks, was the cause, when any one stood in need of some piece of wit, they went presently to Boetius, as the onely man of the Empire, who was esteemed a true Library, animated with the spirit of all Arts. It is a pleasant thing to read what the King Theodorick wrote to him in requiring a dial of him, to present it to the King of Burgundy. Behold the words of his great Secretarie Cassiodorus.

It is not reasonable to contemn the requests which Kings our neighbours with all confidence make unto us, and especially when they require some slight things, which they account in the number of great treasures, It happeneth oftentimes that the dalliances and conceits of wit obtain that by sweetness, which arms cannot gain by force. If we needs must play, let us so use the matter our sports may be made for the good of the publick, and let us search for things serious even in pleasures. The K. of Burgundie intreateth of me with much instance twodyals, the one circumvolved with water, the other with the sun, and he prayeth me to send skilful masters to shew him this invention. Let us afford entertainment to this Nation, to the end they may hold those things for miracles, which we here daily use for recreation. I understand the report which their Embassadours have made of these & the like workmanships, which hath much amazed them, as a thing very extraordinarie. Now I know you are so accomplished in all sorts of sciences, that you have tasted in the fountain of all the indu∣stries, what others seek to practise by rote. For you, for this purpose remained in the Universitie of Athens, and have so fairly allied together the Romane robe with the Grecian mantle, that their doctrine by your means is become wholly Latine. You are ignorant of nothing that is in the speculative, nothing which is in the pra∣ctick; and all that, which the Athenians would attri∣bute to themselves of singularitie, you have transported into our City of Rome. Your translations have made Ptolomy the Astrologian, Nichomachus the Arithme∣tician, Euclid the Geometrician, Plato the divine, Aristotle the Logician, Archimedes the Mathematici∣an to speak Latine. All sciences dispersed among so ma∣ny men, and so many wits, through all ages, are in you altogether united: you have interpreted them all with such perspicuitie of discourse, retaining the proprie∣tie of language, that should these Authours return to life again they would prefer your translation before their own originals.

Afterward he enlargeth himself upon the praise of * 2.277 the Mathematicks, then returning to his diall, he saith, it is an admirable thing to see, that a little immoveable steel every day performeth as much way as the sun, and that if the stars had understan∣ding, they would envy dials, and return back again, for fear to be surprized by this prettie sport of men, the hours would be ashamed, that being the daugh∣ters of the day and night, they were painted with shadows. In the end, having given full scope to his wit, he concludes and saith: I pray you send us two dials so soon as you can, to the end you may be known by the figures of your spirit, in a Country, where no man shall see the print of your foot-steps. I would have them understand that our Senatours here are as learned as Doctours, that they may ad∣mire your inventions, and esteem them as dreams, so that being awakened, they may confess they have no∣thing comparable to us.

Cassiodorus amassed together all the strength of * 2.278 his wit, when he was to dispatch letters to Boetius in the behalf of his King. Witness whereof yet is that o∣ther excellent Epistle of Musick, where we learn that our great K. Clodovaeus, having demanded a sin∣gular Player on the Lute of Theodorick, who then raigned in Italy, address was presently made to Boetius to chuse him, with a magnificent letter,

which still retaineth a notable testimony of his ability.

Angelus Politianus, who had throughly read him, holdeth opinion, that there is nothing to be found more sharp than He in Logick, more subtile in the Mathematicks, more rich in Philosophy, not more sublime in Theology, adding the judgement of Al∣bertus Magnus, and of S. Thomas, who have com∣mented upon his works, and assuring us that his sentences were all as it were without appeal. Lau∣rentius Valla calleth him the last of the learned, there∣by willing to say, that all the glory of the excellent wits of antiquity, was buried with him.

But why go we about to search out the testimo∣nies of Authours, since we have still some of his true works in our hands, which are the mirrours, wherein the wit of Boetius makes it self to be seen with more advantage to all posterity? It may be said, he had too much Philosophy for a States-man, but the bird is not burdened with her feathers, no more than the tree with his leaves and flowers. What wrong hath he done to the City of Rome, if when he saw himself to be taken from the Common-wealth, and in tearms where he could not assist it with his counsels, he honoured it with the riches of his wit, charming the sharpness of troubles with the sweetness of his retirement, and giving an ac∣count to posterity of the time which he husbanded for it?

The third SECTION. His enterance into the government of the State.

I Will willingly leave all digestion to come to my project, and seeing the life of Boetius furnisheth us, not with many slight matters, wherewith ordi∣narily volumes are stuffed, when men desire to distend them beyond their merit, I rest on negotia∣tions of government, which shew a man as well as doth the needle the hours upon a true clock.

Boetius happened in a time, which gave him an ad∣mirable list to combat in, with firm footing against vices the most applauded, and to place his virtues in the bright splendour of light, not holding them still imprisoned within the precincts of a library.

Behold here a strong adversary, that fortune put upon him, which exercised his constancy in rough affairs, and caused him in the end to pass by the dint of sword, ending a brave life by a Tragedie very bloudy, no whit abating his noble courage.

This is a history which verily hath given accasion of much horrour to spirits the most strong, and execration to mouthes the most innocent, to detest the tyranny of a barbarous sword, purpled with the bloud of an honourable old man, by whose mouth all learning, and the best maxims of State did speak. It is necessary, my Reader, well to deduce this narra∣tion, you first understand the humour, qualities, for∣tune, beginning, progress, and the end also of this Per∣secutour.

You must therefore understand, that the City of Rome, which counteth its age, and continued be∣fore the Caesars seaven hundred years, and after Augustus, who was the first Emperour, about five hundred twenty three, and generally from the foun∣dation thereof, one thousand two hundred twenty nine, was at that time involved in very great per∣plexities, the Emperours living then the age of flowers, and driving one another, as waves to be broken against the rocks.

One Nepos elected to the Empire, chose for his Constable a man called Orestes, who sought to take the Purple from his Master, to give it to his son, and verily he caused him aloud to be saluted Caesar, and set the Diadem on his head, surnammg him Augustus, though afterward for contempt, the name of Augustulus was given unto him.

It is a fatal blow from the providence of God, that the Empire of the West, which begun by an Augustus, must receive end by an Augustulus: as that of the East, having commenced under Constantine the Great, concluded afterward in the person of Con∣stantinus Dragosus, vanquished by Mahomet.

Nepos seeing himself betrayed by him in whom he most confided, sent for Odoacer King of the Heruli to his aid, who like the wolf in the fable recon∣ciled the dogs that worried one another, by eating them. For he defeated these two contesting Prin∣ces; and seeing himself march in the fair fields of Italy with swords in hand, attended by strong Le∣gions, the great weakness of the Empire, so many times overwhelmed by civil wars, being unable to oppose his designs, he being entreated to help a friend, payeth himself by his own hands, and makes him∣self Master of his possessions: Experience ever teach∣ing us, that forrain charities, have fingers some-what crooked to lay hold on that, which they make shew to succour.

The Emperour Zeno, who reigned in Constanti∣nople, understanding all this goodly business, dis∣patcheth Theodorick into the West, to make head against this usurper: whether he had a purpose to throw the apple of discord between those two strangers, who in too near a degree closely courted his estate, to make them devour one another, or whether that he cordially loved this man, and that to oblige him, not hurting himself, he freely gave him a matter desperate, he armed, and supported him with gold and strength, to raise him to that throne, not having at that time any will thereunto.

This Theodorick was bastard-son of Theodomire King of the Goths, born of a concubine called Aure∣liana. His father who sought for land, which is very easily found out for a tomb, had much afflicted the Eastern Empire, oft-times making inrodes even to the gates of Constantinople; whereat Leo the Empe∣rour, who then reigned being somewhat amazed, endeavoured to gain him by some honest composi∣tion, which was done: and the more firmly to bind this accord, Theodomire sent his little son Theodorick, who was not above eight or nine years of age, in hostage to Constantinople. The Emperour beholding him to be of a good disposition and a brave cou∣rage, very heartily loved him; and afterward Zeno, who succeeded both to the Empire and affections of Leo his father-in-law, much esteemed this young man, who arrived to maturity of age served him most couragiously in brave expeditions of war against the Gepides and Bulgarians, sworn enemies of the Empire.

This occasion whereof we speak being offered, Theodorick flyeth like a Merlin to his prey, and lea∣ving the Court of Constantinople came into Italy, at∣tended by gallant troups, to decide the matter of Empire and life with Odoacer. He being full of fire, handled his adversary very roughly, and defeated him in three battails, making him forsake the field, and inforcing him to immure himself in Ravenna, where he besieged him, for the space of three years, resolved either to loose his head in Italy, or encircle it with a Crown at Rome.

The father Theodomire being already deceased, his mother the fair Aureliana, who had reigned in af∣fections, entertained an insatiable desire to command over the most important part of the world, and be∣ing then in the field, she spared not to excite the soul∣diers, and advance a spur of fire very far into the heart of her son: whereupon it is recounted that

Odoacer, after so long a siege, being reduced to an ex∣tream scarcity of victuals, and seeing he could not any longer subsist, resolved to seek in the hazard of arms, the remedy which he could not find in his languishment. He espied a time, when the assailants tired out with so long a resistance, seemed now to relent, so that by the benefit of a fair night he made a sally with his whole army, composed of people hungry as wolfs, and resolved to conquer or die in this last battel. Their sally was so furious and unexpected, that Theodorick, who was otherwise a great Captain, seeing the astonishment and disorder of his souldiers, betook himself timely to flight, when this Aureliana his mother, moved with an ardent ambition, which gave her courage above her sex, came before him, and taking him by the hand had confidence to say: My Son whither go you? You must of two things do one, either fight, or return into the womb of your mother. You have, as far as I can perceive, the enemy at your back, and fear on your forehead: turn your head against the one, and you shall chase away the other: If you persist in this flight, I will rather make a wall of my body to stay you, than render my self a con∣federate of such an obloquie.

It is a strange thing, that the words of a woman were stronger than the sound of trumpets, arms, flight, and the black apprehensions of death. This young Prince, changing his fear into a generous shame, speedily rallyeth the troups that were best resolved, and hasteneth to fall upon his enemy, with such violence, that his souldiers seemed so many fly∣ing Dragons, who handled their matter so well, that the valiant Odoacer, notwithstanding his best endeavour, was constrained to retire into Ravenna.

Some time after, seeing his enemy was invincible, he caused him to be sought unto for peace, on such condition, that they should between them, divide the Kingdom of Italy, to which Theodorick, whe∣ther that he was wearied out with so long a war, or that he hoped the more easily to joyn the skin of the fox to that of the Lion, willingly consented to this counterfeit peace. The agreement signed, he entered into Ravenna, and these Princes, who were both very brave souldiers, embraced before the face of two armies, mutually preventing each other with all manner of courtesie.

But oh good God! what cement was ever found able enough to entertain ambition and amity in one constant state? and what world hath at any time been wide enough to lodge too ambitious men without a quarrel? Their conversation too frequent, first sowed contempts and insolencies among soul∣diers of different Nations, afterward jealousie crept into the hearts of the Captains, and distrust into the souls of the Sovereigns, who beheld and ob∣served one another, as expecting who should first begin.

Theodorick, whether he sought for some pretext, which ever is soon enough found out to colour the greatest mischiefs, or whether he understood of a design intended on the part of his enemy, imagin∣ed the earth was not large enough to give elbow-room to his ambition, whilest Odoacer shared the Throne with him; that there was but one sun ne∣cessary in heaven, and one King in a Countrey; that he could not endure a Crown made crescent∣wise, but that it was very fit he should furnish out the roundness of its circle; and for the rest that man would soonest be King, who first prevented his ad∣versary.

Hereupon he resolved on a horrible assassinate: for feigning all friendship and affection, he invited Odoacer to a magnificent feast which he had prepared for him to be the last of his life. It is a great matter, that there must be a bait always to surprize men and birds, and that the greatest disasters ordinarily happen in the sports and banquets, when sensuality predominateth, and reason is eclypsed. This mi∣serable * 2.279 King of the Heruli, made it well appear by his over-much confidence, that he had not so much mischief in him, as was afterward imputed to his ashes; for he very joyfully went to this banquet, accompanied with his son and all the principal of his Kingdom, and walked along with great alacrity, having no other intention but to make war against dishes, and nothing less than at that time to entertain purposes of bloud and murder. The resolution notwithstanding is taken to make them all pass by the dint of swords, in a place the most delightful, where pleasures seem to make men as it were newly born. They entered into a great * 2.280 hall most magnificently furnished, and sat down at the table; there was no speech in the beginning, but of mirth, the spirit disbanded thinketh on nothing but objects of pleasure, when instantly the signal was given, and the Goths threw swords purposely out to offend the most sober patience of the Heruli. They answered again what choller and wine sug∣gested: Theodorick stood up, and taking his sword * 2.281 slew Odoacer with his own hand; the rest fell upon his son, and the Princes of the Kingdom. Never was there seen banquet of Centaures and Lapithes more unfortunately expressed. Tables and men were overwhelmed, wine ran mixt with bloud, the dread∣ful cries of the dying made those tremble who were far enough out of danger, and gave matter of pity even to hang-men; yet for all this not a man was spared; the bodies mangled and bloudy were cast one upon another, and the poor souls issued forth in the midst of massacres and surfets to yeild an account in the Court-hall of Heaven.

What horrours of the abyss and furies of Divels see you here? I would know, whether there be any beast in the world that had heaped together in one sole body, the enraged hunger of wolves, the subti∣lity of foxes, the strength of Lions, the cruelty of Tygers and Panthers, the poison of Basilisks, whether it may be more dangerous to man, than himself, when he is possessed with a mischievous ambition.

Oh how happy would the lives of men be, were they not infected with these venemous passions, which transform reasonable nature into more hide∣ous monsters, than those which Poets have set over the gates of hell. We shall see in the sequel of this hi∣story, how wickedness never escapeth the eye of God, and that if he come with feet of lead to chastise it, he notwithstanding hath an arm of iron, to cut up treacheries by the root.

This murder divulged, the Heruli took arms to revenge their Prince, but the Centinels disposed in many places of the City, hewed those in pieces who shewed themselves most forward.

Theodorick made a declaration very ample, where∣in he expressed, that that which caused him to resolve on such an action, was nothing but the security of his person, against which Odoacer had a most evident design, which would instantly have appeared in the deprivation of his life and estate, had he not with all diligence prevented his enemy. That he did, what the law of nature ordained in so manifest a danger, but that he will hence forward witness all manner of clemency to such as would throw themseves into his arms, indifferently stretched out to accept the obedience of all the world.

The great distast of war every one had at that time, the little hope the most mutinous conceived to revenge their quarrel, and the authority of Zeno the Eastern Emperour, who ceased not to support Theodorick, caused a great silence in arms, and af∣forded full liberty to this ambitious King of the Goths, to become Master of Italy.

As for the rest, he seeing Rome was then as it were

like a great oake overthrown, where every one haste∣neth on all sides to get the spoil, and that the French, Visigoths, and Burgundians might aspire, as he, to the conquest of Italy; he made alliances with all those Princes, and especially with Clodovaeus, who at that time reigned, whose sister he took in mar∣riage. Besides, the Emperour Zeno, that had ever up∣held him, happening to die, as Anastatius his succes∣sour made shew to cause an alteration in affairs, and would render himself absolute in the West, this man knew so well how to play his part, that he diverted his ambitions another way.

There is also a letter to be found in Cassiodorus, which he wrote to this Anastasius, deputing a solemn Embassage to him for the obtaining of peace, where among other things he saith: That it is good reason they should seek for peace, who have no cause to make war, and that the man wadeth far into wrong, who giveth no testimony of any disposition to receive con∣ditions suteable to justice. As for himself, he acknow∣ledged the Emperour, as the prime dignity raised above all other Kingdoms, and to be the support of the whole world, and that one of the greatest favours from God, which he hath at any time received, was to have learned in the Court of Constantinople, how he ought to go∣vern the Romans. That he knows the authority of the Emperour is the onely model of all the policy in the world, and that so much as God hath exalted him above other Princes, so much would be humble himself under this Monarch, from whom be requireth most glorious a∣mitie, that be may hereafter apply himself to all that which may appertaine to his honour and service.

The Emperour Anastasius, who according to the humours of his turbulent spirit cut himself work enough out in the East, not going to seek for it in the West, seeing that he set himself into the condi∣tions of a suppliant, when his fortune might already put into his mouth words armed for command, suffe∣red him to gnaw his bone in secure peace. The Ro∣mans considering, that besides force of arms he had the consent of two Emperours of the East, willing∣ly received him, under hope they had to see some tranquility succeed after so many storms, which had afflicted their State.

Behold how from a Knight of fortune he arri∣ved to the dignity of an Emperour: he being not∣withstanding resolved never to take upon him the Title of Emperour, but contenting himself with the name of King, thereby to decline the jealousie of those, who were very capable of it. He that would consider the qualities of his person, which contri∣buted to enthrone him in a place so eminent, shall find, that besides military virtue, he had other parts very worthy to govern, were it not that his spirit was drenched both in humane policy and long pros∣perities, which served as disloyal nurses to sin.

It seemeth that Sidonius Appollinaris had studied him, and summed him up even to the haires of his head, when in the second Epistle of his first book he so curiously describeth him, and saith among other things: He had a body exceedingly well propor∣tioned, the top of his head well circled, his eye∣brows thick, his hair long, his nose hooked, his lips soft, his teeth of ivory, his complexion white mingled with vermilion, which quickly blushed, more through shamefastness than choller, his body very comely, his arms strong, his hands slender, his breast full, his leg plump, his feet small to support a great body.

He addeth, that concerning his manners, he or∣dinarily prayed before break of day in the pre∣sence of his Bishops, who were Arians, without noise or attendance, and that afterward he applied him∣self to affairs, and gave audience to Embassages and petitions, where he heard much and spake little, ever shewing himself very intentive in resolutions, and most prompt in the expedition of that which he had resolved on. From thence he went to survey his Arsenal, his Magazins, his stables, and his Trea∣sures; or he went on hunting, being naturally so dexterous in shooting, that infallibly he would not miss the mark. After exercises he took his repast; where he loved to be entertained with serious things, and as for that which concerned his table, there might be seen (saith he) The nativeness of Gre∣cians, the plenty of French, the promptness of Italians, and a discipline truly Royal. If after dinner he played at dice, his custom was to be silent when he won, to laugh when he lost, and never to be angry, but rather to take occasion to speak some good words, and ever handled dice as manly as arms.

For the rest, he was so good a gamester, that not disquieting himself at all, he rejoyced to see his sub∣jects in humour against him, and so despoiled himself in game of affected gravity, that he seemed to have no other fear, but to be feared. It did him good then to be asked some favour, and such a one oftentimes lost in game with him, who won his suit.

About three of the clock the burden of affairs of the Kingdom had their turn, wherein he rendered himself very serious till the time of supper.

Ennodius in his Panegyrick saith, that he honour∣ed the Royal purple with the rays of his counte∣nance, and that there was not in the world a habit so beautiful, which he made not more lustrous by wea∣ring it on his body: that his eyes had the serenity of the spring, and that his hands were worthy to give death to rebels, and matter of vows to his sub∣jects: That all which Diadems perform in the per∣son of other Emperours, nature had done in him; and that nothing in him was wanting but an heir: for the truth is, he dyed, not leaving any son to suc∣ceed him.

Reader, I have been willing to present unto you succinctly the great revolution of the Empire into which our Boetius fell; and the qualities of his Perse∣cutour, who degenerated afterward into so much barbarism. But let us now behold, what he did by the counsel of our great Boetius in the manage of his Kingdom; to the end you may have so much the more horrour of wicked ingratitude, who slew this holy man, that was as the Intelligence and Angel Guardian of his State.

The fourth SECTION. The enterance of Theodorick into Rome and his happy government by the counsel of Boetius.

THeodorick having pacified the City of Ra∣venna, and made himself Master of the most important places of his Kingdom, went to Rome with the most flourishing troups of Italy, where he was received in the manner of ancient triumphs; which exceedingly pleased the people, who at that time resembled the earth, which ariseth from the snows of winter, as from a tomb, to becom young again with the sweet breath of the spring.

So many years were slipt away wherein they had not seen any thing but divisions, troubles, famine, and bloud; when this Prince came to appear upon the triumphant Chariot, with his golden arms, which gave him a mervellous majesty, besides the graces he had from nature, they thought they beheld a star newly descended from heaven, and followed him with infinite acclamations in witness of affection.

He being alighted at the Palace, Boetius, who was the principal man of the world in nobility, wit,

and learning; was chosen out from all the State to make him an Oration: In which, being then in full vigour of eloquence he most divinely acquitted him∣self. It is a great loss, that posterity hath not pre∣served so brave a monument of this rare spirit, to en∣chase it now presently in this work. From thence the King passed to the Circus, which was a large place appointed for Jousts and Tournaments, and staying himself at a place called the Palm of gold, he caused his throne to be magnificently seated in a place very high raised, and round about him benches for the Senatours, who appeared all of them cloathed with robes of their order.

There he made an Oration full of sweetness in presence of all the people, whereby he declared he had a purpose to revive the ancient magnificence of Rome, and vehemently to desire to conform him∣self to the fashions of those Emperours, who had been the most zealous for the Weal-publick: which made the whole world conceive most excellent hopes of his government.

All the City was then in pomp, like to a noble Lady, who having laid aside sorrow, suddenly appeareth in the bravery of a bright habit. Never day seemed to shine more resplendently to an af∣flicted people.

It was in the same time that S. Fulgentius co∣ming from Africk to Rome, after he had visited the Churches of the Martyrs, passed along by the Circus at the instant, when all these gallant ceremonies were performed, where he was so ravished, beholding the majesty of the Emperour, the glory of his Senate, the lustre of his nobility, the magnificence of the place, and the throng of innumerable people, that he cried out: Oh how beautiful is Jerusalem the ce∣lestial, * 2.282 since Rome the terrestrial at this day appeareth with such splendour! Good God! if you allow so much honour on earth, to those who follow vanity, what glory will you give in heaven to your Saints, who shal behold verity?

The ceremony being ended, the King entertained all the Senate in a feast worthy of his greatness, and distributed liberalities to the people, which seemed to renew the face of ancient Rome. He disposed him∣self, presently to visit all the places of the City, to know the condition of his Senatours, to inform himself of the humour of the people, to observe the state of affairs, and to constitute the government.

It is most certain, he was indowed with a natural wit good enough, but he had withall so little experience in civil affairs, that he had much ado to sign ordinary dispatches.

Behold the cause why a nameless Authour, who * 2.283 wrot his life in a very low stile, witnesseth, that he usually signing with four letters, caused them to be cut in copper, and clapping them on the paper fetched the draught of his pen round about, to serve as a model, to the end that by this means he might give somewhat the better form to his writing. This want of experience caused him to tye himself con∣stantly to two great States-men, whereof the first was our Boetius, whom he made Master of Offices, * 2.284 and Superintendent of his house, in such sort, that all passed by his counsel: the other was Cassiodorus, of whom he made use, as of a most able and faith∣ful Secretary, to dictate all the letters and proceed∣ing of the Kingdom.

Boetius, whom he in the beginning loved as the apple of his eye, and honoured as his father, gave him the forms and maxims of all that excellent po∣licy, which we behold so resplendent in his govern∣ment. I will here couch some of them, that Politici∣ans may see the happiness, which commonly wai∣teth on States guided by the ways of conscience.

The first maxim was, that King Theodorick, being an Arian, should not onely abstaine from persecuting and afflicting the Catholick Church in any kind whatsoever, either of himself or by any of his, but on the contrary should cherish, honour, protect and maintain it with all the extent of his authority, be∣cause the experience of Ages had made it appear, that those who were interessed in the perplexities of Religions contrary to the Catholick, had pros∣pered very ill: and that not going any further, the deportments of the Emperour Anastasius, who then reigned in Constantinople, made it manifest enough, since he had involved himself in the hatred of the Clergy and people, to support with passion certaine novelties: and how on the contrary, ordinary pra∣ctise had discovered that all Monarchs, who had en∣tertained good correspondence and respect with Ec∣clesiasticks, were evermore honoured in their govern∣ment, and much happier in the success of their affairs.

Theodorick so well observed this maxim, that to * 2.285 witness the zeal he bare to our Religion, he caused the head of one of his officers to be cut off, who having been bred in the Catholick Church, became an Arian, thinking by this means to be advanced in∣to the good favour of his Master. But this brave King, My friend, saith he, since thou hast been disloyal to God, I can never think thou wilt be faithful to thy Prince. Thou shalt wash away the stain of thy treache∣ry with thy bloud, to teach posterity, thou must not min∣gle the interests of God, with the profane pretenses of thy fortunes.

He shewed himself very zealous to preserve peace in the Church in a most dangerous schism raised in his time. For Pope Anastasius being deceased, and they proceeding lawfully to the election of Symma∣chus, there was a Senatour of an unquiet spirit, who desirous to make a Pope at the devotion of the Em∣perour of Constantinople, so to countenance his Ex∣travagencies, banded Altar against Altar: and caused an Antipope to be chosen, named Laurentius, which rent both Senate and Clergy into great partialities. But Theodorick very speedily quenched the fire, and being well informed of the business, seeing Symma∣chus was first elected, and supported by the soundest part, he mantained him with a strong hand against all the enterprises of adversaries, who durst not in the end resist his authority.

Besides, having published an Edict against the fa∣vourers of the Heruli, who perplexed the Province of Genoa and Milan whither they were retired; that fell out to be the cause of very many miseries and tears among the poor people, who having no sup∣port so helpful unto them as the Bishops, threw themselves into the arms of Epiphanes and Laurentius, both great Saints and great Prelates, the one of Pauta, the other of Milan. Epiphanes undertook to speak and said to the King:

Sir, Should I here reckon up all the favours which you have received from God, I might make you appear more sparing in your desires, than he hath been in his liberali∣ties; since you have asked nothing of heaven which hath not ever surmounted your vows and hopes. But not to speak at this time of so many prodigies, is it not a very great wonder to see you do justice in the throne of your enemy, and to behold us pleading the cause of your servants, with such a confidence, in a place, which the terrour of arms had heretofore rendered so dreadful?

Sir, it is the Saviour of the world, who hath given into your hand this people, which hath charged us with their requests. Take good heed, how you offend him by ill using the gift he hath afforded you. Know how an in∣visible power hath led you by the hand into so many encounters and battels, that the air, rain, and seasons have favoured your standards, as if they had been to you engaged. Now is the time you must acknowledge so many benefits by your piety, not despising the tears of the afflicted, which are the sacrifices of suppliants. The

examples of your Predecessours, who have been cast out of the throne for their iniquity, shew, you cannot establish it but in your virtues.

Upon this consideration, your Countrey prostrate at your feet, most humbly beggeth, you would be pleased to sweeten the rigour of your laws, not onely by doing good to the innocent, but by pardoning the culpable. For very little would our clemency be, if we did onely abstain to strike those who have given offence to none, not considering mercy is not made for any but the miserable. In revenge∣ing your injuries you shall do like men of the earth, and by pardoning, share in glory with that great Monarch of heaven, who daily maketh his sun to shine on criminal heads, as well as the most innocent.

The King made a most courteous answer, saying: There was no reason that earthly powers should re∣sist the prayers of Bishops, who made heaven propi∣tious: and that he remitted to all in general the punishments of death ordained by laws: but in so * 2.286 much that the ulcer must be purged, least by shew∣ing himself too indulgent to vices, he might make them pass into example for posterity, the conside∣ration of his state required the Authours of sedi∣tion should be removed, to the end their presence might not foment the evil.

The reply was found very reasonable, and let∣ters of grace instantly dispatched by Urbicus, who was one of the chiefest officers in the Court for ex∣peditions.

He satisfied not himself with this favour: but calling the good Bishop into his cabinet, having highly commended him, sent him among the Gauls to redeem the Italian prisoners there, by reason the Burgundians in certain incursions had taken away very many: and others over-whelmed with the miseries, which proceed from civil wars, were vo∣luntarily stept aside. The King gave commission to the Bishops to rally them to their troups, liberally defraying the charges that were necessary.

There is also found one amongst his letters ad∣dressed * 2.287 to Count Adela, wherein he witnesseth, that though he had a great desire to preserve his people in full peace and repose, because the glory of a Prince consisteth in the tranquility of his subjects; yet that he principally intended the Churches should enjoy this favour, since in obliging them, the mercies and blessings of God were drawn on his kingdom: and pursuing this course, he commanded Duke Ida to cause all the Ecclesiastical possessions to be re∣stored, which some had usurped in Languedoc, after the death of Alarick. Observe the good foundati∣ons of piety which he laid by the counsel of Boetius.

The second Maxim was, to bend all his endea∣vours, and imploy his best thoughts for the comfort of the people, because there is not any way more powerful to gain the hearts of all the world, than by sweetening the sharpness of the times present, or the burdens of the passed. We have seen (said he) by experience, that those who are desirous to possess gold without the love of the people, have been very unsafe; that Kings differ not from other men, but in being powerful to do good, and that the com∣mon sort measure their greatness onely by their bounty: that is it, which heretofore made the Gods of Gentiles, and which maintaineth Monarchies on the firm rock of constancy▪

Theodorick imbraced this care most particularly, * 2.288 for he punctually enquired after the losses of his poor subjects, and if he found any molested by the passage of some troups, or other like, he released them of taxes and ordinary subsidies, as it may yet be seen in his letters, and namely in, one which he wrot to President Faustus, wherein he commanded him to hold his hand in this business, Because (saith * 2.289 he) a body over-burdened sinketh to the ground, and that it were better to despise a slight gain, than to deprive himself of pretious things received from the love of subjects. The river which glideth along (said he) though it do no other spoil, still worketh out its channel; so companies of souldiers, which pass through towns and villages, though military discipline be there observed, fail not to bring thither with them much damage, and therefore it was his pleasure, the places should be recom∣penced which had been overcharged.

For the same reason, he appointed fifteen hun∣dred crowns of alms to be delivered to the vene∣rable Bishop S Severinus, to distribute them among the peasants, which he knew had been vexed with the harbouring of certain warlick companies. Ve∣rily, as it is no smal temerity in particular men, who have neither any charge nor knowledge of affairs, to argue great men upon tributes, and the husbanding of their treasures; so would it be a neglect to conceal from them upon occasions the moderation they ought to use herein, since it is so exactly recommend∣ed by the law of God, and published in all histories.

If a stranger raised from the bottom of barba∣rism, shewed himself so Religious in matters of subsidies towards men, whom his arms had newly made tributary, Princes and Lords of Christen∣dom have good cause to consider what they ow to a people, which is given them as to Fathers and Protectours of the publick. There is no doubt, but the exorbitancies committed in such like affairs, are most important charges of conscience, which much clog a soul in the agonies of death, and in the dread∣ful judgement of Almighty God.

There is also to be seen an Edict of the same Prince, where having understood that in the pay∣ment of taxes, the rich made the heaviest part of the burden to fall upon the shoulders of the mea∣ner, and that the undertakers of this business ill behaved themselves therein; he detesteth all these abuses, as injuries done to his own person, and gave full liberty to those who had been wronged to com∣plain to him, that such order might be taken, as he should judge reasonable. This manner of proceeding made him so beloved, that other Princes having passed away like dreams of one night, he reigned thirty years in a most supereminent degree of respect, which those, even of the religion contrary to his own, bare him.

The third Maxim given him by Boetius was to make himself most exact in the exercise of justice, be∣cause it is the basis of thrones, and the spirit which ani∣mateth all government: and he so deeply impressed this in his heart, that the desire he had to render eve∣ry one what was his, was changed in him to a most ardent thirst, and a continual hunger. He selected out the most untainted and uncorrupted Governours he could find, and spake these words unto them, related by Cassiodorus:

Use the matters so, that Judges of Provinces may be very careful in the observation of laws; that Tribunals spare not to thunder out sentences against ill manners; that theeves may fear the gates of your Palaces; that the a dulterer may tremble before a chast Officer; that the forger may feel horrour at the voice of a Herauld, and that all crimes may be banished from our territory: That no man oppress the poor; that persecutours be ap∣prehended and pursued as disturbers of publick repose. You shall make a general peace when you have beaten down the authours of mischiefs which are committed. Let * 2.290 Captains contain their souldiers in all manner of disci∣pline, in such sort that the labourer, the merchant, the sailer, and the artificer, may understand arms are not made, but for their defence. I will not likewise that my nearest allies be pardoned in any case of justice; since I have taken the Common-wealth into my charge, I have despoiled my self of my proper interests. I wish well to mine, but in the generality.

Pursuing the maxims I will recount an admirable

passage, which he used among others, to make his justice remarkable. A Roman Lady left widow by * 2.291 the death of her husband, had lost a son born of this marriage, who was secretly stoln from her, and in ser∣vitude bred up in another Province. This child grown up a young man, received notice from a good hand, that he was of free extraction, and son of a Ladie, whose name was given him, her aboad, and all circumstances, which caused him to under∣take a voyage to Rome with intention to make him∣self known unto her. He came directly to his mo∣ther, who was much perplexed with certain love-affairs, having betrothed her self to a man, who of∣ten promised her marriage, yet never accomplished it. This lover then absent, and detained by urgent af∣fairs very far from Rome, the Ladie had the space of about thirtie days free, wherein she kept this young man in her house, acknowledging him, and particu∣larly avowing him for her son, throughly convin∣ced by evident tokens, so that then her charitie was so great towards him, that she ceased not to weep for joy, in the recovery of her loss.

The thirtie days expired, the Lover returned, and seeing this guest newly come to her house, demand∣eth of the Lady what man he was, and from whence he came. She freely answered, he was her son. He, whether moved by jealousie, thinking this might be but a colour, or that pretēding the marriage of the widow, he would not have a charge of children, plainly told her, if she sent not away this found child from her lodging, never should she have any share in his affection. The unhappy creature surprized with love, to serve his passion, renounceth her own entrals, and readily banisheth from her house this son, over whom she had so many tears. The young man seeing himself as between the hammer and the anvil, in so great a necessitie of his affairs, hasteneth to require ju∣stice of the King, who most willingly heard him, and commanded the Lady should be brought before him to be confronted by him. She stoutly denied all the pretensions of this young man, saying; He was an impostor and ungrateful, who not contenting himself to have received the charities of a poor creature in her house, needs would challenge the inheritance of children. The son on the other side wept bitterly, and gave assurance▪ she had acknowledged him for her own, very lively represēting all the proofs which passion and interest put into his mouth.

The King sounded all passages to enter into the heart of the Lady, and asked her whether she were not resolved to marry again. She answered, if she met with a man suitable to her, she would do what God should inspire her. The King replied? Behold him here, since you have lodged this guest thirtie days in your house, and have acknowledged him so freely, what is the cause why you may not marry him? The Lady answered: He had not any means, which ever is neces∣sary for houshold expence. And to what may your state truly amount, saith the King? The Lady replied. She was very well worth a thousand crowns, which was a great riches in that time. Well (saith Theodorick) I will give as much to this young man for his marriage, on this condition that you shall marry him. She much amazed, began to wax pale, blush, tremble, and to shew all the countenances of a perplexed woman, who sought to excuse her self, but faltered in her speech. The King yet to affright her more, swore deeply she should marry him presently, or tell lawfull causes of impediment. The poor woman condem∣ned by the voice of nature which cried in her heart, and having horrour of the crime proposed unto her, cast her self at the feet of the King, with much pro∣fusion of tears, confessing her loves dissimulation, and mishap. Then this great Prince taking the word from her: Are not you a miserable woman (saith he) to renounce your own bloud for a villain who hath de∣ceived you, get you to your house, forsake these fond af∣fections, and live in the conditions of a good widow, ta∣king unto you such support from your son as he by nature ought to afford you. I leave to relate a singular ex∣ample, upon the same subject, which I drew from the Chronicles of Alexandria, and cited in the third book and one and twentieth Section of my first Tome.

The fourth Maxim, which Theodorick received from our Oracle, was to place deserving men in of∣fices, and to ground his State upon rewards and pu∣nishments, which the ancient Democritus said, were the Divinities of Common-wealths.

The King laied this counsell up in his heart, and presently made Boetius. Superintendent of Offices and dignities, to the end his judgement might be as the character of the excellent qualities of such as should have principal Commissions. There was no speech at all either of favour, flesh, bloud, or nation; all rewards were for men of judgement and virtue: when any one was designed for some office, long and serious inquiry was made of his condition, which be∣ing throughly known, the King gave approbation of him, by writing to the Senate, or forgot not to put into account all his services and laudable actions, to the end the sinceritie of his proceedings might be known, & that he might cast a double lustre upon him, who received so great a benefit from his hands.

We may behold the practise hereof in many let∣ters, * 2.292 which are to be found upon this subject, and namely upon the advancement of Cassiodorus to the dignitie of a Patrician; where the King writing unto him letters full of respect, makes a narration of his life and functions, wherein he had very well served his Majesty; and then said unto him: Enjoy now the recompence of your travel, and doubly take the interests which you have contemned for the publick, for there are no riches more glorious, than to see your virtues crowned both by the testimonie of the Prince, and by the praises which proceed from the month of all the world. It is a great happiness to oblige a King to confess, that a sub∣ject hath that already by his merit, which he grants him by his liberallitie.

This gave so great encouragement to the nobilitie, to dispose themselves to honour, by the degrees of honesty, that in few years the Court was replenished with persons qualified with parts of science, and con∣science, which are the two sources of good affairs.

The fifth Maxim was, the good husbanding of treasures which are not onely the sinews, but the soul, bloud, and life of the people.

It must be confessed, that the States of the world, are subject to great maladies: one while there is a drowsiness in affairs, that is the lethargy: sometimes a humour peccant and maligne, composed of passions and errors which besiege the understanding, that is the epilepsie: sometimes obstacles, which hinder the light of good counsel, and they are cataracts, which grow upon the eys: sometimes obdurations against good advise, that is hardness in the ears: sometimes a malicious silence of truth, that is the squi∣nancy: sometimes oppressions, that is shortness of breath: sometimes want of courage, and those are the evils of the heart: sometimes there is raised an exor∣bitant avarice, that is the bulimy or dog-hunger: sometimes coldness and remisness to unlock coffers for necessary uses, that is the gout in the hand: some∣times negligences opportunely to take occasions, and that is the gout in the feet: sometimes fiery ambiti∣tions and enraged avarice, and they are feavers: some∣times you may observe malignities and intestine wars, which may be called the stone, and nephretick pains, sometimes bloudy agonies termed dissente∣ries: sometimes great corruptions of manners, that is the cachochimy: sometimes sudden di∣sturbances, they are Erysepelies: sometimes sten∣ches of hidden crimes, and that is an infection of

the nose, which the Graecians call Lozena: sometimes there are discovered spots of impietie, that is the Leprosie: sometimes an impotency in all the mem∣bers that is the Palsie; sometimes a faintness over all the vital parts, that is the Ptisick.

Never should he have done, who would keep an account of all the maladies, which are ever dange∣rous in their sources, and mortal in their issues: but this Ptisick which drieth up the body, and maketh of a living man a kind of spectre or Anatomy, is one of the least accidents: and this happeneth to a State through the ill manage of Treasures, contrarie to the loyaltie due to the sacred persons of Kings. That is it, which maketh souldiers to mutinie, which offendeth the great, and giveth matter of indigna∣tion to the most reasonable, and of murmur to all the world: whiles the one account in substance the gold and silver which they have purloined, and the other reckon in idaea that which is spent, entertain∣ing their thoughts with the desire of a thing afar off, as if one would warm himself with the memory of fire.

This is it which bringeth contempt of a Common-wealth abroad, weakness at home, and miserie on all sides: which maketh the people hungry, and a Prince necessitous in his own house. The effects of this disease are better known than the remedies thereof practised: for there are ordinarily in all States many Reformers, who have verily notable designs up∣on Treasures; but there is the like use made of them, as of tooth-picks before dinner.

Money is of the sect of invisibles, no man knows what becomes of it in so many hands; those who abuse it have so many kinds of jugling-tricks, which dazel eyes, whilest they fill their purses. It is a * 2.293 goodly plant, as that wich is called the Affodil or Scepter-royal, which breeds bad little worms, that gnaw all the substance thereof, and hide themselves under the leaves, till such time that getting wings, they becom butterflies all speckled over with flowers, and brave it over men in the air, whom they durst not behold upon the earth.

The States of Great-ones is also an admirable tree, but it oftentimes covereth under it's fair verdure, colour, and beautie, men which gnaw like worms, and who frame themselves wings all enameled with glorie at the charge of the publick, to take their flight over the heade of so many mortals, whom they look upon with a scornfull eye, as if they had no further memory of the earth which bare them.

A Prince cannot more oblige his State, than to have an eye open to all these disorders, and to make his money distil like bloud through all the veins of the bodie, reserving ever good Treasures to render himself helpful to his subjects, terrible to his enemies, honourable to his allies, and necessary to all the world.

Theodorick became so well versed in this Maxim, that he let not as it were a day pass, wherein he cast not his eyes upon the Treasure of his Exchecquer, and that he took not the pains himself to sum up his revenews and expences, to conform his underta∣kings to his coin. He was most exact to draw into his coffers all innocent gains, and honest emolu∣ments as much as he could, preserving them very charitably for the necessities of the Realm. We may see this in many of his letters, and especially in that which he wrote to Saturnius and Verbusius, where he recommendeth unto them to have a great care of that, which is the best part of his Treasures; and that as he desireth not to burden his people, so would he not have lawfull moneys to be lost. He giveth a reason hereof which is very notable: I have * 2.294 reason to avoid povertie (saith he) because it is the mo∣ther of excess, and that there is nothing more pernici∣ous than to be poor in Empire. The inquiry which I make after my rights, is the profession of my innocencie, & that as I would not avarice & extorsions should reign in my Palace, so will I from thence banish necessity.

The sixth Maxim was that, which the seventie * 2.295 Sages gave among many other to King Ptolomy, when he asked of them the means how to govern well. It was their counsell to have, even in time of peace, warlike troups well entertained and guided, to add Majesty to his State, and terrour to his ene∣mies. That is it, which Augustus Caesar did, to con∣stitute his Empire, when he appointed certain reve∣nues, which he would not have imployed on any other thing but the entertainment of souldiers. That is it, which the Common-wealth did before him, ever holding in necessary places souldiers well disciplined. That is it, which by the report of Va∣lerius * 2.296 Maximus gave Cities, Provinces, and King∣doms to the people of Rome. And Theodorick well acquitted himself upon this counsel when he said: War was never better made, than in time of Peace.

The seventh was well to fortifie the Frontiers, whereof he was very carefull, as he witnesseth in an * 2.297 Epistle, which he wrote to the Goths and the Romans inhabiting at Tortona, giving them commandment to strengthen this place, and not to expect the incursi∣ons of the enemy at unawares. For (saith he) all sudden things are inconsiderate, and it is too late to build up a fort, when one is already in danger. To that he added also the forces on the Sea, which are very ne∣cessary to unite the places of his Territorie, to dissolve the designs of his enemies, and to make himself great and awfull; for the experience of the Athenian wars with the Spartans sufficiently discovereth in the history of Thucydides, that they ever have most advan∣tage who command the sea-coast. One may see by * 2.298 the letters that King Theodorick wrote to his Lievte∣nant Abundantius, with what yehemency he sought to make himself able in this point, giving out strait Commissions to build and rigge out great store of ships wherein he thrived so well, that he vaunted the Graecians and Africans, had nothing to condemn in him.

The eighth recommended unto him, notwithstand∣ing his great forces, to entertain peace and good in∣telligence with his neighbours, to the end, that being less busied in forraign wars, he might have full lei∣sure to manure his Kingdom with good govern∣ment, which he did, as we may behold by his Epistles, entertaining those Princes with testimonies of affect∣ion, congratulation in their prosperities, consolati∣ons in their adversities, embassages and presents, which were more wittie than costly. His letter to * 2.299 our Clodovaeus well sheweth, that he highly valued above all the alliance of France, when he protesteth the safetie of the Kingdom is his own proper glorie, and that he shareth in all the prosperities which hap∣pen to this great King.

The ninth counselled him to love letters, cherish learned men, who are the Trumpets of the glorie of Princes, and make them lead a pleasing and hap∣py life in the estimation of posteritie: and consequent∣ly to cherish arts, invite brave Masters, main∣tain Merchants, discourse even with labourers with much sweetness, by the example of Au∣gustus Caesar, which he so exactly did, that he ren∣dered himself very amiable to all the world, in such manner humbling himself to the meanest, that he disdained not to be among Peasants to talk with them in their trades, and for their honour, till the earth with his own hands.

The tenth was to take away the riot of particu∣lars, and shew himself magnificent in publick mat∣ters, as in buildings, theaters, necessities, and re∣creations of the people, still undertaking something great for the Majesty of the Kingdom, and com∣moditie of the Common-wealth. Towards which

he was transported with much fervour and reason, raising many goodly fabricks, and repairing the ho∣nour of places of consideration, even to the equal∣ling of ancient Rome. For he saith in an Epistle which he wrote to one Agapetus, Governour of the Citie, that he would not subscribe in ornaments to the ancients, since he paralelleth them in the happi∣ness of his Age. As in effect, whilest he observed these excellent maxims, his Kingdom was indeed a Realm of justice, peace, and plentie, beheld by all as the mi∣racle of the world.

The fifth SECTION. The honours of Boetius, and alteration of Theodorick.

BOetius was honoured with so great respect for the many excellent qualities resplendent in his person, that from the foundation of Rome scarcely might a man be found of the long robe mounted to such an eminency of honour, by the de∣gree of civil prudence learning, and virtue.

It is a very notable thing, that not onely the King made him three times Consul, but needs he would through abundance of his love, that his sons, who were yet very young, should be advanced to the Consulship. A matter not ordinarie, but titular and of favour, and very rarely given, but to those who were singularly to be gratified.

Himself confesseth, that if joy were to be derived from frail honours of the world, he had cause enough to rejoice on that day, when he saw his two sons carried in Pomp through the Citie, in a triumphant Chariot, accompanied with the whole Senate, and attended by an infinite concourse of people, who ceased not to congratulate the father and the chil∣dren, as the of-spring of a race, born for the good of the Common-wealth.

The same day he made in full Senate an oration of thanks-giving to Theodorick, for the large libe∣ralities extended towards his house, which was de∣livered with such a grace, that in conclusion they presented him a Crown, as to the King of eloquence. He likewise gave notable largesses to all the people, and appeared in the great Court of the Circus, sit∣ing in the middest of his two Consuls in presence of the whole Citie, having his heart replenished with content, and tears of joy in his eys for the affections which the people witnessed.

To crown all those blessings of fortune, he had married a wife, held one of the most accomplished Ladies under heaven. For, which is very rare, she in∣joyed a great spirit, a singular modesty, and an excel∣lent chastitie, of whom Boetius sufficiently to praise her, said in one word: She was the image of her father Symmachus, who had given her to him in a most chast and happie marriage.

Now this Symmachus, called the pearl and preci∣ous ornament of the whole world was a Senatour, who seemed to be composed of nothing but wis∣dom and virtue, for which cause he then lived in much reputation: and all this family of Boetius was in * 2.300 such sort esteemed, that Ennodius writeth it was a vein of purple, signifing thereby it contained there∣in all great dignities, no otherwise than as veins in∣close the bloud. He notwithstanding addeth, those purples increased by the lustre of Boetius, who pos∣sessed them: and after when Rome became the prize of those who subdued it, it being no longer lawfull for Consuls to reap Palms in the fields of battels, he equalled the ancient triumphs by the greatness of his judgement.

Gerebert, an Authour who wrote of those times, calleth this Boetius the father and light of his Coun∣trie, who managing the reins of the Empire in the qualitie of a Consul, spared not to diffuse by the force of his abilitie in good letters, all the lustre they had, equalling them with the wits of Greece.

Tu Pater, & Patriae lumen Severine Boeti, * 2.301 Consulis officio, rerum disponis babenas, Infundis lumen studijs, & cedere nescis Graecorum ingenijs. Boetius, thou father, and Countreys-light, Disposest Consuls office, common right, Giv'st studies radiant lustre, and no whit, In any thing submit'st to Graecian wit.

Verily, we may see by that which followeth in this historie, the little assurance may be had either in men or favours. If men be vessels who do no∣thing all their life time but play with the winds, fa∣vours are waves of glass, which fail not to shiver themselves against the rocks. We would think the moon much greater than all the stars, were it not that the shadow of the earth, which we make use of to measure it, causeth the contrarie to appear: and we might have some opinion, these great dig∣nities of the world, had much eminencie above all that which is here below, were it not, that they day∣ly fall into shadows and fantasms of nothing, which well approve, we have much illusion in our eys, since these greatnesses have taken such estima∣tion in our hearts.

Jealousie a bad daughter born of a good house, which is that of love and honour, divideth beds and Empires, and hath ever eys so bleared, that it cannot endure a ray of the virtue or prosperitie of another. And for that cause the lustre which proceeded from the house of Boetius, in such manner, as day progres∣seth frō the gates of the East, failed not at all to give suspicions to King Theodorick; who seeing himself a stranger, and ignorant among Romans, and men of so great counsel, being not able to derive any other re∣commendation to himself, but what the sword gave him, envied so many heavenly riches as were contri∣buted to the happiness of his Empire.

The change, which then succeeded at Constanti∣nople greatly fortified his distrusts: for it is written that Anastasius an Emperour, who had done no∣thing in the throne but create schisms, beholding the Laurels of Caesar wholly withered on his head, had some distast both of life, which he had passio∣nately loved, and of the scepter possessed with so much ambition. It is certain, that being one day in the Circus, as he espied a furious sedition whispered against him, he voluntarily laid down his Crown, and let the people know by his Heraulds he was wil∣ling to be rid of the Empire, which for some time appeased the most passionate: notwithstanding, be∣ing greatly hated, and foreseeing he could not make much longer aboad in the world, he began to reflect on his Successours, desiring to transfer to the Throne one of his three Nephews, whom he had bred up, having no male issue to succeed him. There was dif∣ficultie * 2.302 in the choice, and he having a soul very su∣perstitious, put that to lot, which he could not re∣solve by reason: for he caused three beds to be prepa∣red in the royal chamber, and made his Crown to be hanged within the Tester of one of these beds, called the Realm, being resolved to give it to him who by lot should place himself under it. This done, he sent for his Nephews, and after he had magnificent∣ly entertained them, commanded them to repose themselves, each one chusing one of the beds pre¦pared for them. The eldest accommodated him∣self according to his fancie, and hit upon no∣thing: the second did the same, He then ex∣pected the youngest should go directly to the crowned bed, but he prayed the Emperour he might be permitted to lie with one of his brothers

and by this means not any of the three took the way of the Empire, which was so easie to be had, that it was not above a pace distant. Anastasius, much amazed, well saw God would transfer the Diadem from his race; and it is also added, that he likewise knew by revelation, that it was Justine who should succeed, for he having determined to kill him, with Justinian, heard a voice which spake in his heart and said: He should take good heed to touch those two personages, because they should do, each one in their turn, good services to God.

Afterward as this Justine being ever near the per∣son of the Emperour, one day by chance set his foot on the train of his robe, the Emperour look∣ing back, Thou holdest me (said he) by the gown, and shalt follow me; but stay a while, your time is not yet come: which much amazed all there present, who thought him to speak like a man distracted, not conceiving what he would say.

In a few days this Anastasius, who so much fear∣ed thunder, that he fled into a Cave so soon as at any time he heard the least notice thereof, was slain by a thunder-stroke upon the very stairs of the place which he had chosen for a sanctuarie. Justine derived from base birth, and mounted through all the degrees of War to the dignitie of the Captain of the Guard, was chosen Emperour; of whom, he being a valiant man and well beloved, Theodorick be∣gan to cōceive a great jealousie, still fearing he might take out of his hands the Empire he had usurped.

The beginning of the storm was, that Justine an Emperour most Catholick, treated the Arians of Constantinople, who had been tolerated under A∣nastasius, with the severitie ordained by laws, de∣spoiling them of Churches, which they had boldly usurped. They failed not to address their com∣plaints, and offer up their grievances to the ears of Theodorick: who interpreting the disgrace of his sect to the contempt of his person, entered into vio∣lences more fit for a Barbarian than a King, who had been trained up to civilitie by such good counsels, for he threatened to turn all Rome into fire and bloud, if the Emperour Justine did him not right, and for this purpose he sent Pope John, commanding him to go speedily to Constantinople to cause the Churches to be rendered to the Arians, supposing his dignitie would procure him full power with the Emperour. The Pope answered, he had made very ill choice of him, for such an Embassage, that the rank he held in the Church permitted him not to be a provider of Churches for the Arians, and that if he had any bad design upon his person, he was ready to stretch out his neck for the defence of the Church, there being no need for him to pass the seas for this, and under∣take the voyage.

This made him enter into much greater extrava∣gancie, threatening the Citie with a deluge of bloud if it were not remedied: Behold the cause, why the Pope was intreated to go to Constantinople, and to find some way how to sweeten affairs, yet to let nothing pass to the prejudice of his conscience. He yielded to the tears of the people and undertook the voyage of Constantinople, accompanied with some of the principal Senatours, where the Emperour Ju∣stine received him with much submission and un∣speakable magnificence.

Theodorick expecting the issue of this great Em∣bassage, which was not so soon ended, entered fur∣ther and further into a vast labyrinth of suspicions and jealousies, beginning to distrust Roman Sena∣tours, and to monopolize all affairs with his Goths, which was the beginning of his ruine. He at that time did four things which infinitely grieved all good men.

The first was he advanced two, who appeared like two comets over the heads of mortals: The one was called Congiastus, and the other Trigilla, both men of rapine and concussions, who by their evil deportment did much disgrace the authoritie of their Prince.

The second was, that he who heretofore used great moderation in matter of subsidies, bare himself there∣in most inordinately, by the perswasion of those two Goths, who were prodigiously covetous, and in∣sariable in their avarice.

The third was, that in a grert scarcitie of victuals, he caused all the corn to be taken out of the fields near Rome, enforcing every one by an express Edict, to sell that little which he had upon a very low price for the Kings own granaries, and the entertainment of souldiers; which gave occasion of many tears, the poor entering into despair, if the force of this E∣dict should be of long continuance.

In the end, for a fourth violence, he fell upon the most eminent Senatours, dispoiling them of their goods, and threatening them banishment and death, under suspitions of treasons.

Boetius endeavoured to cure Theodorick by all the sweetest ways: but seeing his spirit was become very dark, and much altered in all that which might be said reasonable, not to loose honour and good con∣science in the general ship-wrack he foresaw, he began to roar like a Lion against the corruptions of this mercenary Court.

He stoutly set upon these two powerful favourites, and resisted them in the greatest vigour of their cre∣dit, with such liberty and constancy, that it well from that time forward appeared this man had his soul in his hand, being ever ready to resign it for the defence of justice. Trigilla, who was the Superin∣tendent of the whole government of the Empire and the instrument of King Theodorick, would fain seem an able man, and to give colour of wisdom and rea∣son to actions disproportionable, namely in that Edict published concerning the great heaps of corn, amassed together in the magazine of the Prince, in the sharp wants and indigencies of the people. Boetius loudly blamed this manner of proceeding, and ceased not to declare the miseries of Provinces in words very effectual, demanding audience of the King, for the good of his State.

Theodorick, whether he had not as yet altogether renounced the reputation of a righteous Prince, or that he thought his great favourite Trigilla was grounded upon most pertinent reasons, and strong encounters of affairs, which made him stir up these novelties, would needs in his cabinet hear a confe∣rence between Boetius & Trigilla concerning the De∣crees; where Boetius defended the cause of the poor, with such weight of reasons, prudence, and courage, that he hindered the battery of Trigilla, and prevail∣ed so far with the Prince, that he procured him to revoke his Edicts: whereupon these two favourites with all the faction which followed them, finding themselves immeasurably offended, began more and more to cast into the soul of Theodorick, already much changed, infinite distrust against Boetius, and the whole Senate. And then Paulinus and Albinus, two personages the best qualified in Rome, who had run through all the most honourable charges of the Common-wealth, were very ill intreated by sug∣gestions and suspicions, which these men had raised against them. Boetius, seeing the affairs reduced to such a pass, where dissimulation could not repair them, spake in the end to Theodorick, in full Senate with all the libertie which his conscience dictated unto him, saying:

SIR, I am not ignorant that we are in a time, where∣in it is as it were much easier to flie, than to speak of the State of this Empire without offence to any, and that all discourse, which at this present may be framed, will ever be suspected by those, who have made even our thoughts criminal to your Majestie.

Yet must I needs say, it is a matter very hard to be silent in so great revolutions of affairs, since nature hath not created us like crocodiles, who are said to have eys to weep & not a tongue to complain. I perceive we loose as it were all that which we have of Romane in us, and that in this universal disaster, where all the world should streng∣then their arms against violence, men are contented to do, as in a thunder, every one prays the thunder-bolt may not fall upon his own house, and very little regards the danger of his neighbour: So likewise we see many Sena∣tours, whose dignitie ought to put into their mouthes good and forcible words, for the defence of justice, satisfying themselves to avoid the blow, and expecting safetie in common ruines.

As for my self I freely protest, that being born of bloud, which never learned to flatter any man, and see∣ing my self in a rank where my silence may prove inju∣rious to the publick, since I cannot uphold libertie al∣ready too much leaning to its ruin, I will at least sup∣port the image of it, and in so general a servitude, speak something, wherein I will either discharge my conscience for the present, or comfort my ashes for the time to come.

Alas Sir, when I behold you sitting upon the Throne of glory, whereunto the hand of God seemeth to have rai∣sed you by miracle, fortified you by discretion, and bles∣sed you with so many prosperities, I cannot chuse but remember with the most tender resentments of my heart, the calms of the first years, when you took into your hand the stern of this large Empire. Who ever saw divers mettals so happily commixed, as we then beheld different Nations united in one entire body, under your authori∣tie? What consent in affections? What correspondence in all orders? What vigour in laws? What obedience in subjects? What agreement in the Senate? What ap∣plause among the people? What policie in Cities? What good fortune in arms? What blessing in all the success of your affairs.

Seemed it not, that God had affixed to your standards and Edicts some secret virtue, which made the one tri∣umph in war, and the other become prosperous in peace; with so much terrour and reputation, that even things opposite of their own nature, knit themselves firmly toge∣ther for your benefit?

O Sir, what is become of that golden face of your go∣vernment? Who hath metamorphosed it into this lead∣en visage? Perhaps you thought it was a part of the greatness of your Majesty to hold a Senate under, to whom all the good Emperours have so much ascribed, that they esteem them as necessary for their greatness, as leaves about the rose to set out his beautie.

I could tell you Sir, how much these counsels are per∣nicious, * 2.303 were it not that the experience of the years of your reign hath taught you more, than all the maligni∣tie of men can deface. If you will be pleased to call as yet to counsel your wit and understanding, which God hath replenished with so many fair and noble lights, be∣lieve me you shall find this people is as the hearb Basil, which rendereth a good savour, as it is said, when gent∣ly handled, and createth scorpions when rudely chafed. Hold us in the estimation and condition, wherein you hitherto have reteined us, and you shall see nothing more tractable than the Roman people: but if you proceed with those violences, by which some daily per∣vert your good nature, it is to be feared, least this seve∣ritie produce not rather poison, even for those who hope out of it to derive sweetness.

Our enemies cease not to exasperate you, upon want of respect due to your Majesty, and yet God knows we have so regarded royall authoritie, that seeing it in most vnjust hands, where it lost its lustre, we suffered it not to loose the fruit of our obedience.

Allow Sir, the liberty, which ever hath been the most pretious inheritance of this Empire, you have placed men over our heads, who to become great and unwilling to seem any thing less than what they are, seek to smo∣ther in our miseries, the baseness of their own birth, and believe the means to justifie their own carriage, is to take away eies from those, who have them, and to render tongues mute, least they may learn a truth. Now adays to be born rich is to become a prey, and to arrive at govern∣ment with some supereminences of wit, is to raise ene∣mies; all great actions are suspected; and it seemeth that to find safety, we must seek it either in ignorance or idle∣ness.

We have so learned to obey, that we would not hither∣to so much as enter into consideration of the distribution you made of your favors, leaving them more free unto you than are in the sun his rays, and contenting us to ho∣nour the character of your Majesty as well on rocks, as marbles and silver. But now when we see the pretious interests of the Kingdom, in hands less pure than we wish, what els can we do in so publick a clamour, but here most humbly remonstrate, that which the subtile dissemble, the miserable suffer, the good deplore, and even the very stones relate.

Where is the time, Sir, when we heard those noble words to proceed from your mouth, That the flock may be sheared, not flayed; that a body overcharged sunk to the ground; that there was no tribute comparable to the precious commodities, derived from the love of subjects? And now all the Cities and Countries, be∣wail the rigorous concussions they feel, to satisfie with their sweat and bloud, the avarice of some particulars, who are notwithstanding, as greedy as fire, and more unsatiable than the abyss.

I exasperate not here our miseries, by an amplification of words: I have, Sir, made you to see, when you pleased to bear me in your cabinet, the tears of Provinces, which softened your heart to compassion, and opened your hands to liberalitie, so that if your good affections be not alte∣red by some, you are capable enough to discharge heaven of all promises, which it hath made unto us by the happi∣ness of your Empire.

Unseal those eies which you so oft have opened for the comfort of your poor subjects, & in what part soever you turn them, you shall behold nought but miseries. Is it not a strange thing, that slaves being sometimes sold to courteous Masters, sweeten the sharpness of their condi∣on by some gentle usage, and that there should be none, but the people of Rome; who yearly buy out their bond∣age? none but the people of Rome, who were made ac∣countable for the goods pulled from them, and tributarie for the shipwrack of their povertie?

From thence the way is taken to the oppression of Ma∣gistrates, and some are perswaded, that throughly to mow the meadow, you must humble the heads of plants most eminent, Paulinus is despoiled, Albinus is guiltie of treason, they be culpable enough since they are rich & powerful. It is said, there can be no safetie found, but in their disgrace. And who seeth not, that these proceedings tend to the ruine of that most noble body, which almost thirty years maintained your royal Crown?

Out alas, Sir, if we exclaim against witches who poi∣son fountains, how can we be silent, seeing endeavour is used to invenom the soul of the Prince, who is the source of all counsels, to the end we may hereafter find poison, where we hoped for remedie?

Sir, onely behold and imitate your self; re-assume that spirit which made you reign in our hearts, as well as in our Provinces: distinguish flatterers from true friends; hearken to those, whose loyaltie you have known in the success of so many prosperities.

Remember your self, that you were made to reign over man, not as a man, but as the law: to bear your subjects in your bosom, and not trample them under-foot; to teach by example and not constrain by force, to be a father of Citizens, and not a Master of slaves.

Remember your self, Kings are given by heaven for the use of people, and that they ought not to have so much regard to the extent of their power, as not to con∣sider the measure of their obligations. Handle the matter so, that the greatness of your Majestie may appear in its

goodness, and that this word which you heretofore had in your mouth, may stick eternally in your heart, when you said: A good Prince ought not to fear any thing so much, as to be too much feared.

This Oration greatly enkindled minds, and King Theodorick was so much amazed at this libertie, that he seemed not wel setled in his countenance, he one∣ly said in few words, he would give all satisfaction to the Senate, when time had cleared this business, whereof he would inform himself, that it might be treated at the next Session.

Trigilla, Congiastus, and Cyprianus the principal of the faction of the Goths, seeing themselves touched to the quick, resolved the time was now come, wherein either they must be lost, or Boetius undone; so that after this assembly, they ceased not to besiege the soul of the King, who was become jealous, melan∣choly, and timorous, with a thousand objects of distrust upon the practices of Boetius, assuring him the conspiracie was wholly contrived and plotted at Constantinople by Pope John and his Complices, at Rome by Boetius, Paulinus and Albinus, who had marvellous correspondencies. Not content with this, they gained some mercenarie people, they practised with false witnesses, they counterfeited let∣ters, forged and sealed in the name of Boetius, and said all that which their passion suggested.

This is it which gave the most dangerous assault upon the mind of the Prince, for he having read their papers, and heard some depositions, which they gave him notice of, would have no further infor∣mation to be resolved, but speedily assembling the Senate, entred with his papers in hand, shewing in his countenance the trouble of his thoughts, and spake in these terms:

This last Oration, which Boetius made in this place, was the Trumpet of a conspiracie plotted against my State. I wonder not a whit that he made it his task to disgrace our government with so great ornament of eloquence, to transport your minds into rebellion: but I marvel much how he would promise himself to draw to his partie, complices from a bodie so innocent as yours. All my officers displease him, as an enemie of the good offices are done me; and all the favours which I allot to the merit of mine, are so many crimes in mine own per∣son with this man, who draweth poison from all that which serveth others for nourishment. He, whom the Prince raiseth, serves as an object for his envy, and it hath ever been an injurie to appoint him a com∣panion in his honours. He deploreth the miseries of the publick, as if he were father thereof; and it see∣meth to him all is lost, which justice putteth into any other hands than his own.

Had the Gepides and Bulgarians forraged over all Italy, be could not frame any other complaints, than be doth of the State of our Kingdom; where thanks be to God, there is nothing so grievous, but it may seem a sil∣ver Age, if we compare it to the Empire of those who have gone before us. Besides, our good subjects esteem not themselves so unhappie under me, but that they think my preservation is the source of their felicities. But needs must he have pretext of pietie to colour his design and to take upon him a title of protectour of the people, to make himself usurper of mine Empire. Verily would ambition be satisfied, I have performed for this man all that, which may be done to such as are the most greedie of honour, raising him to all eminent char∣ges, and given even to his children almost in their infan∣cie, dignities, which have been reputed in this Com∣mon-wealth, as prodigies. But in doing this, I sought bottom in an abyss, where it was not to be found.

I have suffered all these extravagancies so long as I could possible, ever thinking to complain of him was to draw convulsions upon mine own proper entrails: But since forgetting all respect of dutie, he cannot be un∣mindfull of his own nature, which is to do evil to those who wish him well, I demand of you in the qualitie of a King, that justice which you would afford to the meanest of my Kingdom.

I have not his eloquence to amplifie Impostures, but I enjoy some strength of understanding to judge of a truth. Behold here, most loyal subjects, those who will depose the conspiracie he hath plotted against my State. Behold here letters signed with his own hand, which were dispatched to the Emperour Justine, to call him to my ruin. You may judge hereupon, and ordain what shall be reasonable, is being not my intention to pretend here any other satisfaction, than what the laws afford me.

As soon as he had spoken this, he caused his wit∣nesses to come in, who were one Basilicus, Opilion, Gaudentius, men of lost conscience and reputation. Theodorick notwithstanding caused them to be open∣ly heard, and without exception, against the inno∣cent. Then he began to produce that goodly let∣ter, addressed to the Emperour of the East, which was wholy counterfeited by the damnable impostures of one named Cyprian.

The poor Boetius found himself at the instant like the just Naboth in the midst of these perverse crea∣tures, and what industrie soever he used for the decla∣ration of his innocency, it was oppressed by a power∣full faction, which transported minds either through corruption or weakness, to the ruine of virtue.

The King pressed the Senatours to deliver their opi∣nion thereupon: they, who were desirous not to ap∣pear suspected, confidently cast the stone against the accused, and thought his condemnation would be their freedom; others, who were enemies, bare them∣selves in it with much animositie; there remained some few feeble souls who followed the course of violence: so that banishment was decreed against Boe∣tius, according to the intention of Theodorick.

Verily, if there be any thing worthy of commise∣ration in the world, it is to behold offenders sit as Judges upon the bloud of an innocent, and to con∣sider that afflicting a man with all extremitie, they also deprive him of the pretious jewel of reputa∣tion, which maketh us live in the estimation of ho∣nest men, a pleasing and spiritual life, as do many great-ones in the memorie of all ages.

The wise Boetius after he had wasted himself with love and travel for his Countrie, is taken out of the bosom thereof, as a man treacherous, and put into the hands of the Guard to lead him to Pavia, the place of his imprisonment.

He was not suffered to speak with his father-in-law Symmachus, for all those who were honoured with his friendship are sequestred; scarcely had he the means to give the last adieu to his wife Rusticiana, who seeing her husband suddenly fal∣len from so eminent a dignitie into such disaster, could not contain from saying unto him with scald∣ing tears:

Syr, is this then it, which your innocencie hath de∣served? If the King be resolved to put you to death, why suffereth he still a piece of your self to live, which hath ever been so dear unto you? I have courage enough to follow you either in exile, imprisonment, or death. But Boetius replied again in few words, that he might not any further increase her grief: Madam, the hour is not yet come, trouble not your self to see me suffer for justice. It is a title of honour which God hath reserved for his children. The education which you have derived from your good father, and the instructions you have received from me, give me occasion to hope you will bear this accident with a Christian resolution. My daugh∣ter, it is not fit that our tears, which fall from so much a higher place as we have been bred in greatness, may shew any dejection in the estimation of men. Support your self a little under your burthen, and open your heart to the consolations of heaven▪ since those of earth are mingled with so much acerbities. Then turning to his

children all dissolved into tears: My children, saith he, God hereafter will become your father. Make pro∣vision of great virtues, which have ever been the inheri∣tance of our house, for all other blessings are but dust and wind. This is the lesson which God giveth you in the change of my fortune. Comfort your good mother by the dutie of faithfull obedience, and live in hope: Per∣haps you shall see me again, if it please God, sooner than you imagine.

These words were arrows that pierced these faith∣full hearts, with most just resentments of nature, which could not quickly end, notwithstanding all the leni∣tives that might be applied.

The sixth SECTION. The imprisonment of Boetius.

THe great changes of fortune, which suddenly happen, have this property in them, that they strike our souls as waves not foreseen, and give us the blow before we have leisure to understand our selves. The poor Boetius seeing himself between four walls, sequestered from the Citie, which had served as a theater of glory for all his house, taken away from the love of his own, bereft of his library, and all the most precious accommodations of life, shut up as a victim destined for a bloudy sacrifice, found himself in the beginning surprized with an over-whelming sadness, as he hath left expressed in writing. He be∣wailed with broken sighs his innocency unworthily handled; he traced in his thoughts the marks of his former fortune; he cast his eyes upon his forsaken fa∣mily, which seemed to him in the Lions throat; he called into memory the unworthiness of his accu∣sers who had been heard against him, the ingratitude of the Senate that had condemned him for being faithfull unto them, the cruelty with which this sen∣tence was executed, the wrack of his means, the loss of his reputation, and all the black horrours which a man declared criminal of treason, figureth to himself.

In this abyss of disturbances, he was displeased as * 2.304 it were with death, which layeth hold on so many young men that desire nothing but to live, and deign∣ed not so much as to shut up his eyes, which he per∣petually moistened with his tears. Hereupon we may see, that the most couragious spirits, in these acci∣dents so strange and unexpected, ever pay some tri∣bute to the natural passions of men. But likewise on the other side, we shall observe the power which a well rectified judgement hath over it self, when we behold it to dissipate all the troubles and agitations of the heart by the vivacity of reason, and use of precepts of wisdom, which he most exactly practised in this his captivity.

We have also the book of his Consolation, compo∣sed in this prison: which is verily in the judgement of learned men, one of the most excellent pieces of work that may be framed on this subject; where he intro∣duceth Philosophie, who visiting and awakening him from this dead sleep of sadness.

What Boetius (saith she) are you be then, whom I have fed with my milk, whom I have cherished with so good nutriments, and bred up until you arrived to the strength of mans estate? Verily I have given you arms, which would strengthen you against all the strokes of fortune, were it not that you have forsaken them. Know you me no longer? From whence proceedeth this silence? Tell me, is it out of shame or stupidity? I had rather it were derived from a just bashfulness, but as far as I can perceive you are become wholly senseless. Will you say nothing to me? Ah poor man, he is not absolutely lost, but so near as I can guess, he hath a Lethargie, a com∣mon disease with those, who suffer themselves to be transported with illusions of the mind. He hath forgot himself, but he will recover, when he shall know me. Let us onely wipe his eyes surcharged with terrestrial hu∣mours, and covered with a thick cloud of the world.

This done, Boetius came to himself, and framed an admirable Dialogue with this Queen of spirits, to which I remit the Reader, contenting my self to ob∣serve here the principal arguments, which served him for his Consolation, to the end we may learn with him in our afflictions, to fix our resolution on the will of God, and suck honey from the rock, as the Scripture speaketh.

The first reason proposed to him by this Wisdom * 2.305 descended from Heaven, was to ask of him, what opinion he had of the Providence of God, and whether he thought the world moved by chance, or were governed by reason? God forbid (saith Boe∣tius) that Iever come to this degree of folly, as to think that all here below is casually done. I know God ruleth in the world, as in an house built by his own hands, and that nothing happeneth in the affairs of men, but ei∣ther by his command or permission. Thereupon Philo∣sophie crieth out: Just God! it is verily marvellous, that a man who hath such an understanding of the Di∣vine Providence can be sick of the disease, wherewith I see you surprized. My friend, you entered into the world, as into a list or circle, whereof this Providence hath made the circuit with his own hands. It is fit you * 2.306 patiently suffer all that which happeneth to you, within these limits, as an ordinance of God, to which you have submitted your self. It is he who governeth our lives, our conditions, our fortunes. If you be resolved to give law to the policie of the Omnipotent, from whom you ever ought to receive it, what else will you gain, but to make your self mutinous, and to render your condition more troublesom by your impatience?

I pray you think with your self, if you were embarqued in a vessel, you must go according to the impulsion of winds, and not the motion of your affections. If you till and sow, you shall have fruitful and barren years, accord∣ing to the diversitie of seasons; and you would have a for∣tune ever equal and perpetually stable? you would hold back by force of arms its chariot incessantly circumvol∣ving? Are not you very simple not to know, that if she were not inconstant, she could no longer be fortune?

Go not about here to question with me upon the affli∣ctions of good men, and the prosperities of evil. What injurie doth God to an innocent, if be allot him the share of all those great souls, whom he will not entertain in the pleasures of an idle life, but in the exercise of virtue? Know you not there are fishes that die in standing wa∣ters, and are delighted in the bubling of sluces? Great spirits go all that way, they no more loose themselves in tribulation, than the sun in his eclipse, which onely serveth to make him more resplendent.

And what advantage, think you, do the wicked derive * 2.307 from the benefits of this life? Is there any thing more miserable than to be transformed into a beast, by the enor∣mitie of vices, and to adde impunitie to so many crimes? You say, they do whatsoever they list; and I say they are thereby so much the more miserable: for if it be an un∣happiness to desire an evil, it is a double miserie to have the power to execute it.

If all offenders were punished according to their de∣merit, they should have some benefit which they have not, to wit, the punishment of their misdeeds, which be∣ing a work of justice cannot but be good; they should have some bridle to stay their exorbitancy, some apprehen∣sion of the judgements of God; which being stoln from them by long prosperities, what else remaineth for them but to pass to the extremitie of punishments, by the ex∣tremitie of crimes? For my part, if I should throughly pu∣nish * 2.308 a depraved man, I would ordain for him neither wheels, flames, nor tortures, but I would burst him with honours, gold, silver, and riches; and when be were full up

to the throat, I would draw aside the curtain, to let him see virtue and Paradise, of which he had betrayed the one and lost the other, by the disaster of his carriage.

The second question which Philosophie asked him, was, if he knew well who himself was? And Boetius, answering, He was a man of honour, reviving the memory of the great riches and dignities he had enjoyed heretofore. Verily (saith she to him) I well see * 2.309 there is much forgetfulness of your condition, and niceness in your complaints. If God had put gold as well as bloud into your veins, and given you leave to be born full stuf∣fed with precious stones, or laden with honours and dig∣nities from your mothers womb, you had some cause to deplore that the inheritances of your birth were taken from you: but who are you, or from whence come you? I could tell you how many years it is since you were born a little infant, all naked, creeping on the earth, and having a mouth open to cries and hunger, which had not so much as one little hair on the bodie to cover it; and now you take upon you the spirit of a Mo∣narch, and think you have nothing, if you possess not all? Verily are you not one of the most miserable, if you do not know how to take contentment in that which is left you, and not still to tie your self to sor∣rows for that which you have lost? You have a father-in-law Symmachus, one of the most excellent men in the world, you have a wife, the pearl of her sex, you have children of great hope. How many things would you buy at the price of your life, if you had lost them? and yet you think you are miserable when you possess them, and when they are employed with all their endea∣vour for your deliverance.

Your vessel doth yet lie at anchor, and is not altogether broken: I see comfort in something for the present, and hope for the future; and happen whatsoever will, I will save you by swimming. But needs must I freely con∣fess, * 2.310 that I find a little niceness in this your act, when you deplore with so much bitterness and affliction the petty wants of your condition. Tell me, I pray you, is there any man in the world, who possesseth a felici∣tie so full and free, as not to dispute with his fortunes, to make his estate more happie? The condition of worldly goods, findeth every where thorns; prosperities never come all together, and although they arrived in heaps, they ever would have a slippery place.

One is accommodated with honest means, but is of base extraction, which maketh him to blush in good company. Another is very Noble, but is so poor in his estate, that it were much sitter for him to be unknown. Another is born of good rank, and hath no want of riches, but he bewaileth that part which he hath lost, consecra∣ting himself to retirement with wilfull tears. An∣other hath met with a goodmarriage, but his barren∣ness maketh him amass riches for a stranger. Another hath children, to have cause of great miseries: and to speak in a word, you shall find very few, who well agree with their condition. Through all there are evils, which give happiness to those who are ignorant of them, and borrour to such as have tried them.

Adde also a reason, that these men, very fortu∣nate, are extreamly sensible upon the touch, and as there needs not any thing but a pegge to stay a piece of artillerie upon the way, so the least accident hindereth the glory of their greatness. How many think you are there, who would teach Heaven with a finger, if they had but onely the surplusage of your fortune? This place, which you call your banishment, is the countrey of so many ho∣nest men as inhabit it, and if you reason well, you shall find, that there is as it were nothing miserable, if not made so by opinion.

Finally I ask you, whether ever you have had any thing in the world more precious than your self? If you answer truly, you will protest unto me, assuredly no: and yet notwithstanding, behold you, thanks be to God, if you will, to have so much and more for your self, than ever you had, and that neither prison nor fetters may prejudice the libertie of your spirit.

The third reason, which is very much at large dedu∣ced in this divine Work, is drawn from the vanitie of all temporal goods, where wisdom proveth by very good reasons, That if the sorrows we have for the world, might be measured at the rate of the things which con∣tristate us, as there is nothing great in this vale of tears, so should there not be any thing capable of much dis∣quiet. Mourn we for mettals, which are the nests of rust, and the tinder of concupiscence? for attires, which are the nourishment of mothes? for bodies, which are the food of worms? for houses, which are the bones of the earth, piled one upon another with cement and morter? for precious stones, which are the excrements of an en∣raged sea, borrowing their worth from our illusion? for honours, which are golden masks and weather-cocks of inconstancie?

What a folly is it to hold retirement for a punishment, which so many brave spirits have taken for a Paradise, and to think our selves sharply punished, when we no longer behold behind us great trains of servitours, who burden us with their crimes, and make us become answer∣able for their souls.

What an errour is it to desire to hold riches locked up, which never are what they ought to be, but when they are distributed? For they resemble a dung-hill, which stinketh when it is together heaped, and fatteneth the fields, when it is spread abroad. We move Heaven and earth to flie from povertie, and find it in our riches; for great fortunes are now adays so hungrie, and have so much ado to maintain themselves, that although the nee∣die are ever the most poor, yet is there nothing more beg∣gerly than the rich, who have a thousand dependances, and a thousand necessities, whereunto their felicitie is fa∣stened, as with a chain.

What a charm is it to think then to be happie, when you mannage the affairs of Great-ones; where never is any thing done to please them, if you make not your self a slave to all their passions, where favours are granted of fea∣thers, and disgraces inflicted of lead? Where your sleep, your life, and your faith is sold for a pleasing fantasm, which lasteth no longer than the dream of one night?

Deserveth not a man to be strucken down as an ene∣mie of reason, when unloosened from this slaverie, he withereth, languisheth, and sighs for his fetters, ready prest a thousand times to kiss the hands of him, who again would enchain him. * 2.311

What a mockerie is it to affect greatness among men? as if a rat would make himself a lord among mice, and to feed himself with glorie, which is nothing but a swelling of the ear. Oh Boetius, Seneca desired under Nero, and Papinian under Antoninus, the solitude which thou now enjoyest; but whilst they endeavoured to break their bands, & leaned to a ruinous wall, the mass of their great∣ness transported and buried them. Behold thy self retired * 2.312 from affairs, into a chamber of Pavia: behold thy self in repose, and among books, the first entertainment of thy young days; why dost thou not now presently make a vir∣tue of the happiness, which the providence of God offer∣eth thee?

For a third point, he considered the fruits that might be derived from tribulation, when it is well mannaged. Prosperitie (saith this wisdom unto him) is windie, open, slipperie, and inconsiderate. Adversitie quite otherwise, is sober, reserved, pru∣dent, and circumspect; the one under apparences of fe∣licities, bringeth unto us an infinitie of lies; the other, is ever grave and sincere; the one deceiveth us, the other instructeth us; the one blindeth us, the other enlighten∣eth us; the one polluteth us, the other purifieth us; the one charmeth us, and tieth up our understanding, the other enfranchizeth us; the one separateth us from our sovereign good, and maketh us fall into a thousand sorts of vanities, the other draweth us back, as with a book,

to the consideration of eternitie; the one createth for us many flatteries, the other discovereth unto us many true friends. Let us suffer a little, Boetius, and if this seem troublesom, think, that as thy prosperities have passed away, so shall thy adversities. The last day of thy life, which cannot be far off, will ever be the last of thy ill for∣tunes, if thou leave not it, it will forsake thee: it is an ordinance of God, that favours and disgraces cannot be of long continuance, and that for mortals there is no evil immortal.

Finally, for the last reason, the holy man, who had composed so learned books of the mysteries of our faith, forsaking all the comforts of humane things, drenched himself very far into the consideration of blessings in the other life, of eternity, and the excel∣lency of God. He considered it, as an infinite sea of essence, * 2.313 bounty, beatitude, which encloseth in it self all being, all good, all veritie. He saw the whole Uni∣verse in this immensity of God, as a spunge would be in the midst of the ocean, an atom in the air and a lit∣tle globe of glass, enchased in the first Heaven. He saw in his bosom all glory, all dignities, all riches, all trea∣sures, all pleasures, all consolations, all delights, all joys, and all beatitudes; he walked at ease in those fourteen abysses of greatness, which are in God, to wit, infinitie, immensitie, immutabilitie, eternitie, omnipotencie, wisdom, perfection, sanctitie, benignitie, power, providence, mercie, justice, and the end whereunto all things tend.

From thence he beheld the Word Incarnate, the true King of the afflicted, and all the Saints laden with crosses and persecutions, thinking himself ve∣ry happy to mingle his tears with the bloud of so many brave courages, who had gained Heaven with violence.

This consolation overflowing his heart, drowned all his acerbities, and infinitely sweetened the sharp∣ness of his captivity.

Behold the fruits, which the wise Boetius gathered in his prison; well shewing, that virtue is an hostess tra∣ctable in every lodging, and who looseth no part of her liberty in chains. It onely appertaineth to huge mountains, to bear snow and verdure at one and the same time; and to great souls to retain a holy vigour in the strength of afflictions.

The seventh SECTION. The death of Boetius.

IT is a loss, that the Authours which have written of this death, have cut off so short the last act of a life so eminent. There is not any thing, saith one, so curious in a statue, nor so hard to polish, as the nails; and nothing which more clearly maketh the perfection of a man accomplished in virtues to be seen, as a good death. I will here speak that, which I have drawn from the most probable authours, touching the death of Boetius.

It is certain he was very long in this prison, since he complaineth in the Preface of a book, which he composed during the time of his captivity, that his spirit was in declination, his body being worn with the torments he endured by the rigour of a King of the Goths. Death in the end came to unloose his fet∣ters, by an act very barbarous, exercised by Theodo∣rick on this admirable man.

He, seeing Pope John had done nothing in his fa∣vour at Constantinople, but in stead of causing the Temples of the Arians to be restored, had purified and changed them into Catholick Churches, he entered into a fury more exorbitant than ever, and kept this good Pope in prison at Ravenna, until he was wasted with diseases, yielding up his most blessed soul in fet∣ters, to hasten to enjoy the liberty of the elect.

Cyprian and Basilius, accusers of Boetius, failed not to kindle the fire with all their power, to ruin him whom they already had wounded. There was sent unto him a Commissary, who was Governour of Pavia, to interrogate him upon matters, where∣with he had been charged. The King promising him by this instrument a reasonable usage, if he would confess all the process of this imaginary conspiracy. Boetius having heard what his commission imported, replieth:

Tell the King your Master, that my conscience and age have reduced me to those terms, wherein neither me∣naces nor allurements can work any thing upon me to the prejudice of reason. To require the proceeding of my conspiracie, is to demand a chymera, which hath never been nor ever shall. Is the distrust of his witnesses so great, that needs he must exact from my mouth the arti∣cles of my condemnation? Verily he hath as much cause to doubt my accusers, as I matter of glorie to be accused by mouthes so impure, that they would as it were justifie the greatest delinquents by their depositions. One Basi∣lius chased from the Court, and charged with debt, hath been bought to sell my bloud, and having lost credit in all things, finds more than enough for my ruin. Opilion and Gaudentius condemned to banishment, for an infi∣nite number of wicked promises, they being fled to Al∣tars, the King redoubleth an Edict, by which be ordain∣ed, if they instantly went not out of Ravenna, they should be branded in the forehead with an hot iron. What may be added to such an infamie? Yet notwith∣standing the same day they were received and heard a∣gainst me. Arrows are made of all wood to transfix me, and the most criminal are freed in my accusation. Some being not ashamed to employ against the life of a Sena∣tour those, who would scarcely have been set to confront very slaves.

This makes me say my condemnation is premedi∣tated, and my death already vowed, and that this search is made for petty formalities, to disguise an inju∣stice.

King Theodorick playeth too much the Politi∣cian, for a man, who hath full liberty to do ill. What need is there to use so many tricks? Tell him boldly from me, that I submit to his condemnation. I was willing to save the Senate, though little gratefull for the sinceritie of my affections: I wished the repose of the Catholick Church: I have sought the liberty of the Roman people: Here is all that I can say. As I am not in condition to tell a lie; so am I not on terms to conceal a truth. Had I known the means to reduce the Empire into better order, he should never have understood it. Finally, if he be re∣solved to put me to death thereupon, let him hasten his blow. It is long since I have had death in desire, and life in patience.

The Commissary much amazed at this constancy, made his relation to the King in very sharp words, which put oyl afresh into the flame, to thrust affairs into extremities. The poor Rusticiana, wife of Boe∣tius, knowing the point whereunto the safety of her husband was reduced, made use of all the attractives she could, to mitigate the fury of the Prince: and observing Amalazunta, the daughter of Theodorick, to be an honourable Ladie, and endowed with a sin∣gular bounty, she recommended her petitions and tears to her. This Ladie gave her access to the King, to whom she with her children presented her self in a most deplorable State, able to soften obdurate rocks.

Alas, Sir, said she, if you once more deign to behold from the throne of your glorie the dust of the earth, cast your eyes upon a poor afflicted creature, which is but the shadow of what she hath been. I no longer am Rusticia∣na, who saw palms and honours grow in her house, as flowers in medows: Disaster having taken him from

me, by whom I subsisted, hath left me nothing but the image of my former fortune, the sorrows of the pas∣sed, the grief of the present, and horrour of the time to come.

I would swear upon Altars, that my husband hath never failed in the dutie which he oweth to your Maje∣stie; but calumnie hath depainted his innocency unto you with a coal, to inflame you with choler against a man, who ever held your interests as dear unto him as his own. I know what he hath so many times said to me thereof, and how he hath bred his children, whom your Maje∣stie now beholdeth at your feet. If we no longer shall take benefit of justice, Sir, I implore your mercie. Look on a woman, worthie of compassion, tossed in the storm, and who beholdeth in the haven the Olives of peace, which you always have desired to equal with your laurels. Suffer me, I may embrace them: The world already hath cause enough to dread your power; give us cause to love it proportionably to your bountie. Alas, Sir, on whom will you bestow it? Fire, which consumeth all, burneth not ashes, and behold us here covered with ashes before your eyes: what more desire you of us? A miserable crea∣ture is a sacred thing; the God of the afflicted taketh it into his protection, and will no more have it touched than his Altars. If my unhappiness have set me in that rank, and my sex made me a just object of your pitie, Sir, render that to me, which I in this world do hold most precious; and think not we ever will retain any resent∣ment of what is past, when we shall see our selves re-esta∣blished in our former fortune. It is in you to command, and for us to obey your ordinances, and even to kiss the thunder-bolt that striketh us.

It is to much purpose to present musick to the ears of Tygers, it hath no other effect but to enrage them the more. The cruel Tyrant presently commanded the Ladie to withdraw; adding he would do her justice. And they ceasing not still to multiply su∣spitions with him upon this pretended conspiracy, as if Boetius had now been presently with sword in hand with the Emperour Justine at the gates of Rome or Ravenna, he fell into such fear, gall, and choller, that without any other formal proceeding of justice, he dispatched the afore-mentioned Commissary with a Tribune, to put him to death, whose life was so pre∣cious to the Roman Empire.

Boetius, who had a long time been prepared both by prayers and the Sacraments of the Church, for this last hour, knowing the cause wherefore they came, beheld them with a confident countenance, and said: Perform your Commission boldly: It is long since I knew, that death alone must open the gates of this prison for me. And having spoken this, he contained himself some while in a deep silence, recommending to God this last act of his life, and consigning to him his soul, which during this imprisonment he had so of∣ten whitened with his tears, and purified as in a pre∣cious limbeck of eternal charities, wherein all great souls are deified.

This done, he went forward with a settled pace to the place of execution, which the King would have very secret, not to excite the people; where seeing himself, Behold here (saith he) the Theater which I have long desired. I protest before the face of the living God, and his holy Saints, that I have ever had most sincere intentions for the good of the State, nor am I culpable of any of these crimes objected against me. If my innocencie be now opprest, there shall come a better posteritie, which shall draw aside the curtain, and enter∣tain the rays of truth.

O Rome, O Rome, would to God thou mightest ••e purified by my bloud, and I to be the last victim sacrificed for publick safetie! I will not now accuse him who con∣demned me, desiring God rather may open his eyes to see the justice of my cause, and the plots practised upon his own soul. Behold the recompence I gain, for becoming hoarie in his service; but God is the faithful witness of all my actions, and in his bosom is it now, where I lay down my life, my bodie, my soul, and all my interests.

There was but one poor gentle-man waiter, that accompanied him in this passage: who, as he pour∣ed out tears near unto him, Boetius earnestly behold∣ing him, said: Where is your resolution, leave these tears for the miserable, and tell my father-in-law, my wife, and children, that I have done nothing here unwor∣thie of their honour, and that they act nothing unwor∣thie of me, by bewailing me with plaints, which would be little honourable for the condition of my death, but that they rather take this accident as a gift from Hea∣ven. They well know I have ever told them, it is not here, where we should expect repose, but in the place, where I hope to prepare them a room. These words spoken, they proceeded to execution by the barba∣rous commandment given by Theodorick.

I have read in a very ancient manuscript, from whence I have drawn some particulars couched there∣in, that a cruel torture was inflicted on this holy man, long time streyning a coard about his fore-head, in such sort, that his eyes started out of his head, and that in the end they knocked him down with a leaver: which I cannot think to be probable, see∣ing all other constantly affirm his head was cut off by the hand of a hangman: and Martianus, who most eloquently wrote his life, addeth, that by miracle he some space of time held his head in his own hands, like another S. Denys, until he gave up the ghost, be∣fore the Altar of a Chappel very near to the place of his execution.

His bodie was interred in the Church of Saint Au∣gustine, to whom he had a particular devotion, and his name put among the Martyrs, as Baronius ob∣serveth, because he died partly for the defence of the Catholick Church against the Arians. The place of his imprisonment hath been preserved as a great mo∣nument of piety, his tomb honoured with verses, such as that time could afford, where among other things this title is given him:

BOETIUS IN COELO MAGNUS, ET OMNI PERSPECTUS MUNDO.

The King stayed not a whit after this to put Sym∣machus his father-in-law to death, and to confiscate all the goods both of the one and other, which was a very lamentable thing; yet notwithstanding the cou∣ragious Rusticiana bare the death of her father and husband with so great constancy, that she deserved to draw all succeeding Ages into admiration; for she spake most freely to the King, reproching him with his disloyalty, and honoured these two emi∣nent souls as Saints, much offended with her self, if at any time nature won tears from her eyes, as judg∣ing them too base to be sacrificed to so flourishing a memory.

The vengeance of God slackened not long to fall * 2.314 upon the guiltie head of Theodorick: for few days after this act, as he continually lived in the repre∣sentations of his crime, his imagination was so trou∣bled, that being at the table, when they came to serve up the great head of a fish, he figured to him∣self it was the head of Symmachus, the last of all butchered, and although much endeavour was used to remove this fantasie from him, it was impos∣sible to give remedy, but he rose from the table like a man affrighted, crying out murder, and felt in∣stantly such a quaking over all his body, and be∣sides such convulsions in all his members, that he must needs presently be carried to his bed; where he was visited by his Phisitian, to whom he complained with much horrour, that he had shed bloud which would perpetually bleed against him. The feaver and fren∣zie carried him hence into the other world, where he had a marvellous account to make; of whom we know no more particulars: yet Saint Gregorie wit∣nesseth

that he learned from the mouth of a man * 2.315 worthy of credit, that the same day he died at Rome, certain honourable persons being at Lipari, a little Island of Sicilie, in the Cell of an Hermit, who lived in the reputation of great sanctitie, he said unto them: Know ye, that King Theodorick is no more? They replying, Nay not so, we left him alive, and in health. Notwithstanding (saith he) I can well assure you he died to day in Rome, and which is more, is judged, condemned, and thrown in∣to the store-houses of subterranean fire, which we here call the Cauldron of Vulcan. And it was a * 2.316 strange thing, that they being returned to Rome, understood the death of this wretched King, to have been at that very time, told by the Hermit; which was held for a most manifest judgement of God, and made all those to tremble, who heard the relation thereof.

Athalaricus his grand-child by his daughter, al∣though an infant, succeeded to his estates, under the regency of his mother Amalazunta, who restored all the goods had been confiseated to the widow, that lived afterward, until Justinian got the Empire from the Goths, by the means of Bellasartus: at which time she made all the images and statues of Theodorick to be broken, causing also another process to be framed against him after his death.

Alas, great God, who governest the state of this Universe, and makest the pillars of Heaven to shake under thy foot-steps! what is man who will practise wiles in a matter of policie, contrary to thy eternal Maxims? How hath this wretch ended, loosing soul, Empire, and salvation, to pursue a phantasm? He roared like thunder in the clouds, on the theater of humane things, and then past away, leaving nothing behind but storms, dirt, and morter: at which time thy good servant Boetius, walking in the ways which thou prescribedst him, is mounted to the glory of the elect, leaving here behind him the precious me∣mory of his name to all posterity.

THE LADIE.

TO LADIES.

LADIES,

I Should do an injury to sanctity, even in the HOLY COURT, if having undertaken to speak of piety of Great-ones in these Treatises, I should pass Ladies un∣der silence, who in all times have contributed to the glory of Christianity so much force beyond their sex, as virtues above nature. God hath employed them in the great affairs of all A∣ges, since the Word, which from all eternity acknowledged but one Father in Heaven, hath been pleased to acknowledge in later times, one mother upon earth: and that he who is able to cloath the meadows with the enamel of flowers, and Heaven with the beauty of lights, took flesh and bloud of a Virgin, to make himself a garment, and frame to himself a body. And as the chaste womb of a woman served him for a lodging at his first enterance into the world: so when he would issue out a∣mongst so many horrours, punishments, and images of death, when stones were rent asunder for grief under his feet, and Heaven distended it self with sorrow over his head, women

were also found near to the Cross, as witnesses of his last words, and survivers of his bloud.

Here, O Ladies, are eternal alliances, which you have con∣tracted with devotion; and he who would bereave you the sweetness of its repose, should banish you from your own hou∣ses. So many men as stir up quarrels, seem now adays to have no other profession, but to kill and die upon credit. Those, who are conversant with books, waste themselves in the plea∣sing tortures of the mind▪ Others, who are involved in the turmoils of publick affairs, oftentimes gain nought else but smoak and noise. But when I behold you under the title of the Devout Sex, which is given you by the Church, I find your blessing is in the dew of Heaven, and that you resemble Bees, which are born in honey, or rather those birds of the fortunate Islands, nourished with perfumes.

Believe me, those of your sex who have not true piety, had they a world of greatness and beauties, and were it that all the riches of this world had rendered it self tributary to their intem∣perance, would be no more esteemed before God, than the flower of grass, or scum of earth. But such as take the way of holy and solid virtues, enter into a life wholly Angelical, which forgetting sex and natural imperfections, furnisheth it self with the most perfect idaeaes of the Divinity.

Behold hereof a model, which I present unto you in this Treatise, where, after I have observed, rather by speculation than practice, some blemishes, which might varnish the lustre of so many celestial beauties, I reduce the piety of Ladies into such bright splendour of day-light, that it were to have no eyes, not to admire the merit thereof.

I have been willing to make this service suitable to my habit, and not unworthy of your considerations, thereunto invited by Ladies, who have happily allied virtue to the most eminent qualities of the Kingdom, and who might serve me for a mo∣del, were they in a much better Age than my self. If God, who hath inspired me with these contemplations, grant your per∣formance, I shall have the Crown of my vows, and you, that of your perfections.

THE LADIE.

The first SECTION. That the HOLY COURT cannot subsist without the virtue of Ladies, and of their Pietie in the advancement of Christianitie.

BEhold where I purpose to shut up this Work of the HOLY COURT, which I have brought thus far with labour enough. And since God after those great Works of the Creation, reposed so soon as he had made woman, he thereby shews me an example to give some rest to my pen, when I shall have represented unto you the perfections of a Lady, such as I would wish her, to serve as an ornament for Christianity, and a model of virtue.

Yet Reader, I must needs tell you, I feared this haven, whereunto I saw my self arrive of necessity, as well for that I learned of the great Martyr S. Justin, * 2.317 that a singular discretion must be had to treat with women, and that he doth very much, who can love their virtues without danger: besides, being natural∣ly disposed to brevity, I somewhat doubted lest they might insensibly communicate by my discourse some touches of those great delays, which they use in atti∣ring themselves; and verily I see there are many things may be said both of the one side and other: But as it is an act somewhat uncivil to run inconsi∣derately into invectives against the sex, so it is an un∣worthy servitude of mind to be too obsequious to them, and tender vices incorrigible, by a false pre∣sumption of virtues.

I am much bound to my profession, that it seque∣stereth me from these two rocks, where so many ves∣sels suffer shipwrack. If I must blame you, I will do as he who slew the serpent, not touching the body of his son twined up in his folds; I will strike vice with∣out * 2.318 slandering the sex, and if they must be praised, I look on them as the idaeaes of Plato, which have no∣thing in them common with matter.

I begin to verifie my first proposition, and say, the good life of women is a piece so necessary for Chri∣stianity, that it cannot be cut off without introdu∣cing a notable disorder: and this I say, because there are many uncollected spirits in the world, who make it their glory to act all against the hair, to oppose the most sound opinions, to give the lie to nature, and do that in the world, which Momus did in fables. Sometimes they set themselves to censure the State, and find somewhat to say of military matters, trea∣sures, laws, and offices: sometimes they frame Com∣mon-wealths of Plato in their emptie brains, and con∣stitute new forms of government, which never will have being but in their chymaeraes. When they have touched upon the Purple and Diadem, they busie themselves to controle God upon the master-pieces of nature, and among other things, that he hath done ill to create a woman.

Cato the Censor said in his time, That if the world * 2.319 were without women, the conversation of men would not be exempt from the company of Gods. And a Doctor of the Jews yielding a reason why the Eternal Word had so long time deferred its Incarnation, said no∣thing else, but that the world was then replenished with bad women, and that four thousand years were not able to furnish out one good one, to serve as an instrument suitable to the greatness of this Mysterie. Another having lived free from the bands of mar∣riage, caused to be set on his tomb: Vixit sine impe∣dimento, * 2.320 He lived without hinderance, which was a phrase very obscure to express what he would say: Notwithstanding it was found this hinderance, whereof he spake, was a woman. This may well hap∣pen through the vice and misery wherein the state of this present life hath confined us: but to speak gene∣rally, we must affirm, had it been the best way to frame the world without a woman, God had done it, never expecting the advise of these brave Cato's; * 2.321 and whosoever endeavoureth to condemn marriage, as a thing not approved by God, sheweth, that he is either out of his wits, or a publick enemy to man∣kind.

The great S. Peter, in whose heart God locked up * 2.322 the Maxims of the best policie of the world, was of another opinion, when he judged the good and lau∣dable conversation of women, rendered it self so ne∣cessary for Christianity, that it was a singular mean to gain those to God, who would not submit them∣selves to the Gospel. Whereupon he affordeth an incomparable honour to the virtue of holy women, disposing it in some sort into a much higher degree of force and utility, than the preaching of the word of God: and in effect it seemeth this glorious Apo∣stle, by a spirit of prophesie, foresaw an admirable thing, which afterward appeared in the revolution of many Ages, which is, that God hath made such use of the piety of Ladies for the advancement of Christianity, that in all the most flourishing King∣doms of Christendom, there are observed still some Queens or Princesses, who have the very first of all advanced the Standard of the Cross upon the ruins of Infidelity. Helena planted true Religion in the Roman Empire, Caesarea in Persia, Theodelinda in Ita∣lie, Clotilda in France, Indegundis in Spain, Margerite in England, Gysellis in Hungarie, Dambruca in Poland, Olga in Russia, Ethelberga in Germanie, not speaking of an infinite number of others, who have happily maintained and encreased that, which was couragi∣ously established.

Reason also favoureth my proposition; for we must necessarily confess, there is nothing so powerfull to perswade what ever it be, as complacence and flat∣tery; since it was the smoothest attractive••, which the evil spirit made use of in the terrestrial Paradise to overthrow the first man, setting before him the alluring pleasures of an Eve, very newly issued out of the hands of God.

Now every one knows nature hath imparted to

woman a very good portion of these innocent charms: and it many by these priviled ges are also powerfull in actions so wicked, why should not so many virtuous souls generoully employed in the ser∣vice of the great God, bear as much sway, since he accustometh to communicate a grace wholly new to the good qualities, that are aimed to his honour?

I conjure all Women and Ladies, who shall read this Treatise, to take from hence a generous spirit, and never permit vice and curiosity▪ may derive tri∣bute from such ornaments, as God hath conferred on them, it being unfit to stuff Babylon with the gold and marbles of Sion.

The second SECTION. That women are capable of good lights and solid instruments.

SInce I see my self obliged by my design to make a brief model of principal perfections, which may be desired for the complishment of an excel∣lent Ladie, and that this discourse cannot be through∣ly perfected without observing vicious qualities, which are blemishes opposite to the virtues we en∣deavour to establish; I will make use of the clew of some notable invention in so great a labyrinth of thoughts, the better to facilitate the way.

I remember to have heretofore read a very rare ma∣nuscript of Theodosius of Malta, a Greek Authour, touching the nuptials of Theophilus Emperour of Constantinople, and his wife Theodora, which will fur∣nish us with a singular enterance into that, which we now seek for; so that we adde the embelishment of so many Oracles of wisdom to the foundations, which this Historian hath layed.

He recounteth, that this Theophilus being on the * 2.323 point to dispose himself for marriage, the Empress his mother, named Euphrosina, who passionately desi∣red the contentment of her son in an affair of so great importance, dispatched her Embassadours through all the Provinces of the Empire, to draw to∣gether the most accomplished maidens which might be found in the whole circuit of his Kingdom. And for that purpose she shut up within the walls of Con∣stantinople, the rarest beauties of the whole world, as∣sembling a great number of Virgins into a chamber of his Palace, called for curiositie, The Pearl. The day being come, wherein the Emperour was to make choice of her to whom he would give his heart, with the Crown of the Empire, the Empress his mother spake to him in these terms:

MY LORD AND SON, Needs must I confess, that since the day nature bound me so streightly to your person, next after God, I neither have love, fear, care, hope, nor contentment, but for you. The day yieldeth up all my thoughts to you, and the night, which seemeth made to arrest the agitations of our spirit, never razeth the rememberance of you from my heart: I acknow∣ledge my self doubly obliged to procure with all my en∣deavours what ere concerneth your good, because I am your mother, and that I see you charged with an Em∣pire, which is no small burden to them who have the di∣scretion to understand what they undertake.

It seems to me since the death of the Emperour your father, my most honoured Lord, I have so many times newly been delivered of you, as I have seen thorny af∣fairs in the mannage of your State. And at this time, when I behold you upon terms to take a wife, and that I know by experience to meet with one who is accomplished with all perfections necessary for your State, is no less rare than the acquisition of a large Empire, the care I have ever used in all concerns your glory and content∣ment, is therefore now more sensible with me, than at any other time heretofore.

It is true, O most dear Son, that the praise-worthy in∣clinations which I have observed in your Mujestie, give me as much hope as may reasonably by conceived in the course of humane things: yet notwithstanding the acci∣dents we see to happen so contrary to their proceedings, do also entertain my mind in some uncertaintie.

That you may take some resolution upon this matter, behold in the Pearl of Constantinople, I have made choice of the most exquisite maidens of your Empire, to the end your Majestie may elect her, whom you shall judge most worthie of your chaste affections. I beseech God, who is Authour of Marriage, to direct your spirit in this choice, and dispose it to that which shall be to his greater glorie, wherein you shall ever find your con∣tentments.

When she had spoken this, she drew out of a box a golden apple, enameled with precious stones, which she had purposely caused to be made, that it might be presented to her, who should be chosen out for the bed of her son, and putting it into the Emperours hand:

Behold (saith he) the golden apple, which I leave to your discretion, to give it to the most absolute. You have the Commission of Paris in your hands, but you shall do well to dispose of it more discreetly than he.

The Emperour, after he had most affectionately given thanks to his mother for so many excellent prooss of her affection, asked of her by what note might one know a wife truly virtuous, and so accom∣plished as she wished.

Euphrosina replied: It is no sleight demand, O Em∣perour, nor can that so readily be resolved, yet by your good favour, I will roughly delineate this discourse with so much sinceritie, as not to attribute any thing to my sex, to the prejudice of truth.

There are three sorts of men, who cannot speak well of us: whereof the first are certain scoffers, who to put themselves into an humour, and to give scope to their wits, have no discourse more familiar in their mouthes, than the condemnation of women: and God forbid, these should be any other than Poets or Philosophers; for they frame discourses of our nature, and extravagances to no purpose.

I revenge my self commonly upon these kind of men by silence: for it is to cast water on coals, to hear them without reply, and to punish their tattle by contempt.

Others are men wounded in sport, and who have not well digested some disgraces they have received from women, to whom either vice, folly, or malice hath enga∣ged them more than was expedient for their quiet. These are, as if a dog hurt with a stone, should run up and down to bite all the stones he finds in his way, yea, those which are laid by work-men in the buildings of Churches and houses. They fall upon all women for having been deceived, as they say, by a woman, and cease not to scratch the wound, to renew the smart of it. But who sees not it is a meer passion, to blame the general for the deserts of particulars?

In the third rank, are certain melancholly furious creatures, or such as have something worse in them than furie, who have not so much proclaimed war against our sex, as denounced it against total nature, which cover∣eth us with its arms in this point, and confirmeth us in our right by their silence.

Some of these, who are strong in passion, and discover their revenge with pretext of learning, would perswade us, that the meanest spirit of all the men in the world, is more eminent than that of the most capable woman.

Verily, I will not raise my sex above the merit thereof, thinking we shall ever be high enough, if we abide in the rank which God hath given us.

But whether we consider reason, or whether we regard experience, they very pertinently make void this chy∣mera

of conceit, which hath taken birth from self-love and folly, as from its two most suitable elements.

I would willingly demand of these discoursers, whe∣ther * 2.324 they hold souls to have a sex? Never will they avow this opinion, unless they mean to renounce faith and reason. And if our souls be indifferently created by God, why do they thereupon go about to forge distin∣ctions, which have not any subsistence, but in their de∣praved imaginations.

If some say this diversitie proceedeth from the bodies; who knoweth not, that the disposition of Organs, from which it is thought the goodness of wit proceedeth, is as advantagious in women as men? See we not even at this day in all sorts of conditions men sometimes so abject in wit and capacitie, that if one degree should be taken from them, it seems they would have but sufficient to be∣come beasts? And have we not seen in all times women intelligent and capable, some whereof have made them∣selves appear as miracles in arts, and others shewed, that if they were ignorant, we could attribute it to no cause, but to the modestie of their condition.

I should be too copious if I now went about to enlarge my self upon the goodly Works of Sophia, Erinna, So∣sipatris, Cleobulina, Theomistoclea, Telesilla, Zeno∣bia, and Eudoxia. Those who condemn in us the want of wit, oftentimes wish we had less, and would settle a good part of their contentment in our stupiditie.

We hold for an undoubted truth, that God having cre∣ated us with this equalitie of souls, we have as much right in knowledges necessarie for us in matter of grace, virtue, and glorie, as men can have. One thing I may well say, that the complexion of feminine bodies, may di∣stil into our souls inconstancies, infirmities, and passions, which perhaps would take an irregular flight, were they not repressed by pietie and reason.

For my part, I think Simonides hath not very ill ex∣pressed the ten Orders, which he hath made of the hu∣mours of women, and this will much help you in the choice you are to make, if your Majestie will take so much pain as to be informed thereof.

In saying this, she caused her Virgins to draw near; and as heretofore those of Sparta shewed drun∣ken men to their children, to make them to abhor drunkenness, so framed she a description of the bad natures of women, to procure a detestation thereof, and exalt the merit of the virtuous, by the counter∣poize of their contrary.

The third SECTION. The ten Orders of women, and the vitious qua∣lities which Ladies ought especially to avoid.

BEhold Maidens (saith she) and advise in good time to lay hold on the tenth rank: for there are nine neither pleasing nor laudable.

In the first sphere are those, which are of the nature * 2.325 of a hog, creatures unworthy to be named, who soil the honour of their sex, by the disorder of their carriage: for leaving all that which is either honest or generous in our manners, they let themselves loose to all kind of infamous pleasures, of gluttony and lust, which ruineth them in conscience, fortune, and reputation. They are whoups, proud birds, which have nothing but crest, and naturally delight in ordure: they are bats, which cannot endure one little ray of light, but seek to hide themselves under the mantle of night: they are horse-leeches, which draw bloud from the veins of a house and state, where they exer∣cise their power. They are Syrens of the earth, which cause ship-wracks without water. They are Lamiae, * 2.326 who have hosteries of Cut-throats, that kill men un∣der pretext of good usage. They are harpies, who sur∣prize even from Altars, and in the end become enve∣nomed dypsades, which enforce an enraged thirst up∣on those whom they have once bitten. He that speaks this vice of a woman, hath as it were nothing to say of all the evils in the world. And when impudence hath given them a brow of flint and steel to sin, the bankrupting, which is made upon honour, is attended by that, which is committed on virtues and Altars, and there is not any vice in the world, which will not seek to possess it self of the throne, from whence shamefac'dness is banished. I beseech you I may speak no more of these scandals of nature, lest I may poison my tongue by the recital of their deportment.

In the second rank are those, who have the skin of * 2.327 the fox, and the snares of the hunter, to surprize the simple. I speak not at all of certain creatures, who use pleasing and innocent subtilities, as were those of Rebecca and Rachel, which rather relished of pru∣dence than craft: but I discourse of some women, cunning, inconstant, ingenious, and practick. We see by experience, that creatures the less strong, have the more sleights, as if nature were willing to recompence the defect of one part, by the excess of another? So it often happeneth that we our selves being destitute of forces, which is more proper for men, have recourse to an infinite number of deceits: wherein we think to have some advantage, and by the cunning of our wits, which are nimble enough, and by the superabund∣ance of leisure we enjoy in a sedentary life, and by the fervour of our passions, which being almost never in the mean, do stir up our understanding, to make it produce an infinity of designs. There are women able to give a lesson to the greatest Lawyers in matter of process; so well are they versed therein: they know all the terms of litigious pleadings better than ever did Labeon or Tribonius, and they so cunningly make use thereof, that they tyre the strongest patiences by the tricks and flexibilities which they invent. There are some, who have a sent so penetrating, that they smell from far all which is done in a Citie, and dis∣cover the most secret things to find in some sort their own interests. Others perpetually bear a snare on their tongues, such words have they of double mean∣ings; they know how to measure their daliances to their own profit; to counterfeit friendship where there is not any; to hide hatred under flattery; to put Ri∣vals into passion and quarrels; to make them fight and play the Fencers at their pleasure, and afterwards to pull some feather from those that are beaten. We do not so much advance our affairs as we would wish by these tricks; for that maketh us odious, and taketh the credit from us, which we should rather derive from the goodness of our manners. And besides, as there is no policie which hath not in the end its coun∣termyne, whilest passion holdeth us in breath to de∣ceive others, oftentimes we suffer our selves to be sur∣prized by a certain levity, of easily believing all those which flatter us. Fair maids believe me, as there is no∣thing more lovely than goodness, so is there not any thing more stable than an honest simplicity. We are not born to be Circes and Medaea's, nor to open a shop of all subtilities; let us be contented that Poets have madea monster of a creature of our sex, which com∣monly spake in very ambiguous terms, and they na∣med it Phinx; let us speak truths to make fables false, and beware of the art which they profess.

In the third rank go along certain natures endow∣ed * 2.328 with dog-like qualities, most insupportable, as are so many women troublesom, importunate, and slander∣ous, who do nothing perpetually but bay, bawl, or bite. To live with such a creature in a house, is to have a rotten roof, which letteth rain and tempests drop in winter upon the head of the hoste. There are men who become familiar with Lions, Bears and Dragons; but where shall you find one, who hath made tractable such like humours? The habitations of deserts are de∣lights in comparison of such company. A film in the eye, the gout in the foot, the stone in the reins, the his∣sing

of aspicks, thunder, lightening, rasors, hooks of iron, make less noise, and do less hurt, than these poi∣soned tongues, which penetrate even into the entrails.

A husband which meeteth with so ill a chance, dai∣ly acteth that part in his house, which did heretofore Prometheus on the mountain of Caucasus, when a vul∣tur rent him alive, and gnawed his heart, which was onely fruitfull for his punishment. The wife that meets with a bad husband should not much complain, but yet she findeth that being in subjection, she is not so far distant from the degree, wherein nature hath placed her: but on the contrary side, to see a man ill handled by the impudent exclamations of an imperi∣ous woman, is a kind of monster in nature, which mo∣veth pitie in some, and astonishment in others. All husbands have not the resolution of the Philosopher Socrates, who held opinion we must endure women, as the dung of pigeons, which pay our patience with their fruitfulness. For verily being crowned with a bucket of water, by his Mistress Xantippe, after a great noise of bitter words, he replied, Such was the nature of the world, because after the thunder-clap followed rain. Our age is not so fruitfull in such insensibilities: but in like occasions the husband and wife coming to contend with words, a wind is raised at the door & and window, which bringeth a storm into the house. In all times our tongues have been censured, as tem∣pests * 2.329 opposite to publick repose: some have compared them to those bells of the forrest of Dodona, which made a prodigious jangling: others have said, there needeth not above three of them to make up a Fare; and others have added, It was ill done to say there were words, which came from our mouthes, but ra∣ther waves and froath of the sea. I cannot but think * 2.330 these Censors speak out of excess; but let us prove thē lyars by our discretion, and perswade our selves, that discourses of a woman which have been purified by si∣lence and consideration, have a marvellous virtue.

In the fourth order are women of the earth, who * 2.331 are of a nature gross, stupid, and dull, that live in the world as superfluous creatures, and know as it were neither good nor ill: the care of their house very little toucheth them; the least business is of power much to perplex their minds; their kindred and allies find little friendship with them, since they themselves have of∣tentimes the heart of an Ostrich towards their own children, whom they regard as if they were strangers. In the end, they have much ado to endure themselves, so unprofitable they are, and malignant towards civil life: which happeneth to them through depraved ha∣bits, and inordinate idleness, whereinto they have suf∣fered themselves to slide from their tender years, or by some other corruptions of a melancholy spirit, which they soment to the prejudice of their repose.

These kind of natures are good neither in the coun∣trey, citie, house-keeping nor in religion. For we find that in all things we must use endeavour, and that we came into the world, as into a galley, where, if one can∣not manage either the stern or oar, he must at the least make a shew to stir his arms, and imitate the Philoso∣pher Diogenes, who roled his tub up and down, wher∣in it was said he inhabited, to busie himself. For my * 2.332 part, I like well those people who banished all idle gods out of their walls, and retained such as enjoyn∣ed travel. For, to live and take pains, is but one and the same thing, and that, which the nourishment we take operateth for the preservation of life, labour doth the like for accommodation thereof.

In the fifth station you have women of the sea, who * 2.333 much deceive the world by their fair semblances: for they at first appear quiet and peaceable, as a sea in the greatest calm, having no want of grace or beauty, which promiseth much good to those who know them not; but one would not believe how they shift away upon the least wind of contradiction which is raised; how they are puffed up, and become unquiet with anger, love avarice, jealousie, and other passions very active. Such an one seeth the flower of the thorn, who knoweth not the pricking thereof, and such an one beholdeth with admiration those excellent beau∣ties, who cannot believe how many pricks and stings they cover under these imaginary sweetnesses. You shall therein ordinarily observe very great levity and impatience, which maketh them hourly to change their resolution, in such sort, that they think nothing so miserable, as to remain still in one and the same con∣dition. I have seen young widows, who had washed * 2.334 the bodies of their husbands with their tears, wiped them away with their hairs, and as it were worn it by force of kisses, and who not content with these ar∣dent affections, discharging the surplusage of their passion upon their own proper bodies, tore their hair, pulled their cheeks, & were rather covered with dust than apparel. They died every hour, saying, they could not live one sole moment without their best-beloved, and filled the air and earth with their complaints; which was the cause why such as came to the funer∣als, knew not whether they should bewail the dead, or the dying. Notwithstanding, presently after these goodly counterfeitings, they began again to reform their hair, and change the dust of the pavement into the powder of Cypress: to put painting upon their tears; to adorn with a carcanet of pearl the neck, which they seemed to destine to a halter; to seek for Oracles from their looking-glass, and to do all things, as if death and love conspired to make their feast in one and the same Inn. I have observed others, who being yet under the yoak, were the best servants in the world: but as soon as they saw themselves at liberty, there were no worse mistresses than they. There are no∣ted to be in the heart of a woman the passions of a ty∣rant, and should they continually have wheels and gibbets at their command, the world would become a place of torture and execution. Never have I seen passions more hard to vanquish: for in the end the sea, which threateneth the world to make but one ele∣ment, suffereth it self to be distinguished into ditch∣es by little grains of sand, which stayed it with the commission they received thereupon from God: but when a woman letteth the reins of her passion go, there is not as it were neither law divine or humane, which can recal her spirit to reason. Fair maids, take ever from the modesty of your hearts, the laws which may be given you by justice.

In the sixth degree are the natures of the Ape, who * 2.335 have a certain malice spightfull and affected; and such spirits may be found of this kind who day and night dream on nothing but mischief. They are filled with false opinions, sinister judgements, disdains, smothered choller, discontents, acerbities, in such sort, that the ray of the prosperity of a neighbour reflecting on their eyes, makes them sigh and groan. And as those Apes which sculck in the shop of a Trades-man, mar his tools, disturb his works, scatter his labours, and turn all topsie-turvie: So these malicious creatures spie occa∣sions to trouble a good affair, to dissolve a purpose well intended, to overthrow a counsel maturely di∣liberated, to cause a retardation on the most just de∣sires, and frustrate the most harmless delights. How many times do we behold the sun to rise chearful and resplendent in a bright morning, and every one is aba∣shed to see a mist arise, which in this serenity doth that which blemishes on a fair body? It is said, it some∣times proceedeth from a sorceress, which darkeneth that glorious eye of the day with her charms: And how often have you observed prosperities more radi∣ant than the clearest summers day, which have been cloyed with duskie vapours by the secret practises of a woman, who biteth the bridle in some nook of a chamber? Fair maids, malice is an ill trade: It ever drinketh down at least the moity of the poison which it mingled for others.

In the seventh Region there are some kind of owls, * 2.336 or wild-cats, certain creatures, enemies of day, of all conversation, all civility, and all decorum: who having received from God many honest enablements to a∣dorn life, and to do good to persons necessitous, so lock up their entrails, that you may sooner extract ho∣ney and manna from flints, than get a good turn out of their hands. How is it possible they should be cour∣teous, to oblige their likes, since they are many times cruel to themselves, defrauding themselves of the ne∣cessities of life, which are as it were as common as ele∣ments, to satisfie a wicked passion of avarice that gnaweth them with a kind of fury? For they endure in abundance part of that, which the damned suffer in flames perpetually, and fearing lest the earth may fail them, they bewail what is past, they complain of the present, they apprehend the future, they love life, onely to hold money in prison; and fear not death, but for the expence must be made at their funerals.

Let us take heed we resemble not those fountains, * 2.337 which are so cold in the day, that they cannot be drunk, and so hot in the night, that none dare come near them. Let us do good both in life and death with the goods which God hath given us. If men be un∣grateful, he will suffer us to reap reward even from his hands. A covetous soul, which in the prosperity of its affairs, and superabundance of riches, heareth not the clamours of the needy, is as the hen, which is said to be deaf in summer; is like a bottle full of silver which affordeth nothing till it be broken; is a mil-wheel which much laboureth, and gaineth nothing; a hog, which never doth good, but at his death. It hath al∣ways folly for guid, servitude for dowry, and misery for recompence.

In the eighth are those, which are said to be com∣posed * 2.338 of a certain mixture of powders very different, which causeth them to be of humours light, giddy, fantastical, in such manner, that they daily make an in∣finite number of metamorphoses, and one knoweth not in what mould they must be cast, to put them into a state of consistence. You may there observe a spirit, which is perpetually upon change, which ceaseth not to jump from desire to desire, like a bird from branch to branch. A spirit, which will and will not, which saith and unsaith, doth and undoeth, and which con∣tinually hindereth it self in its thoughts. All that which you think to be very firmly settled with such kind of persons, is tied with a sliding knot, and there needeth but the turn of a hand to overthrow what is thought to be best established. One thing they retain very constantly in such an ebbe and floud of incon∣stancies, which is obstinately to fix themselves upon their own opinions, and no more to give way to rea∣son, than rocks to waves. It is verily one of the greatest vices which may be in a woman, as being the semina∣ry of all disorders that grow in houses. I have ever learned from Antiquity, that the noblest Spirits are those, which give good counsels, and that such as wil∣lingly hearken unto them, come nearest & joyn with them in a laudable degree of goodness. But such as neither can give good advise, nor receive it from o∣thers, are the very worst natures of the world. Pre∣serve your selves, Maidens, from this imperfection, which is the blemish of a noble courage, the worm of concord, the poison of life, the inseparable compani∣on of folly. Make it not your trophey to be refracto∣ry against the advises and remonstrances of those, to whom nature, justice, and reason hath subjected us: otherwise you would travel much, and get nothing in recompence, but the perfection of a mule.

I set in the ninth place maids, who are of the nature * 2.339 of those proud kind of creatures, as of peacocks, or little dogs, which are glutted with curiosities, whilest so many poor people die for hunger in the streets. This order is now adays much spread over the world, for it is filled with nice women, who seem to be born for nought else, but to make it appear how high the desires of exorbitant nature may mount, when a great fortune supporteth them. Many little fisking ghossips are seē, who are made up like puppits, so curiously bred, that they seem to be fed with potable gold between cotten and silk. Those are the divinities of fathers and mothers, who raise rain and fair weather in their hou∣ses, at the onely aspect of their countenances. The joy and sadness of the whole family waiteth on the con∣dition of their humours; they must no more be offend∣ed than those stars, which are thought to send tem∣pests upon such as have not saluted them. What may one hope from a soul altogether drenched in these de∣licacies? Follies attend the increase of age, and multi∣ply by infinit degrees. Reason is trampled under foot, and passion armed with a great power makes it self to be carried on the shoulders of men. Desires are with∣out measure, wills without bridle, passion without moderation, and sensuality without resistance; bravery, tattle, impertinent babble, toyishness, love, afford no passage to truth, and if there be any devotion, it is al∣together silken; so coy and curious it is in the choice of persons. Sacraments are good, if they be not tied to hands, where vanity seeketh its interests; yea, pride is planted upon the hair-cloth of penance; and if God would chastise such creatures to their liking, he must tie up his rods with silk, or else they never would receive correction.

When they leave their parents to be delivered to husbands, they go to change power, and not nature. A husband is ever uncivil, according to their saying, if they have not permission to do any thing. And as * 2.340 it is said the moon never agreeth in qualities with the sun, but when she hath eclypsed him; so they find not any concord in marriage, but in the diminution of his authority, whom God hath given them to be their head. They carry along with their portion all the vi∣ces of their childhood, which oftentimes accompany them even to the grave. They have no eyes to see ad∣versity, no nor ears to hear it; the miseries of the poor touch them so little, as if they were made of marble, and the care of their family shall never interrupt their pleasures. What a life is it to behold a woman who although she rise in a time when the sun is near noon-tide, notwithstanding, as if she feared the vapours of the serain, she is armed before she come out of her bed, with a restorative from the kitchin, to keep her colour the more fresh.

From that time she causeth her self to be attired, and clothed like an Idol, by three or four servants, who have more ado to preserve her beauty, than ever had the Vestals of Rome to maintain the sacred fire. One presenteth her with red, another with white, one holds a looking-glass, and another dares not tell her that the time of Mass is already past, whilest my Lady taketh her head-dressings: yet must the Canons of the Church be broken as easily as a glass, to obey the hu∣mours of a woman, and to celebrate then, when it is to be doubted whether the sun begin not to bend alrea∣dy to his setting. Mass is past over with making sowr faces, and looking scornfull with a good grace, with some slight ceremonies of devotion, which go no fur∣ther than the outward parts. There it is, where resolu∣tions are made of entertainments of time, to be cho∣sen for the rest of the day. Then follow the visits of child-bed women, gaddings, and coachings, dancings and bankets, where the prattle is so loud, that a few women could suffice to make the noise of a mil. They much love to hear discourse upon all kind of affairs. They that have not their spirits so subtile, entertain themselves upon trifles and slight complements, which they have studied for the space of ten years. Others, who can shew they have read a great quantity of love-pamphlets, or such like, would seem of ability, so far as to give law to Poets and writers, who have not this kind of relish, love not to please any thing so

much, as their own sensuality; and in these loose com∣panies take fire and wind on all sides, to the great prejudice of their reputation.

I leave it, my Daughters, to the repose of your re∣collected cogitations, to think what Epitaph may be bestowed upon gentlewomen that lead such a life, but that they have employed themselves in the customary actions of a beast, nay, which a beast daily performs better than they; with this disparitie, that they have been more inventive to season their sin.

Behold what honest women commonly most con∣demn in the carriage of the vitious and imperfect, which I have abbreviated in few words; being un∣willing to enlarge any further upon the other imper∣fections, whereof I have no experience, having ordi∣narily so much entertainment with my books and employments, that I have no leisure to study on the manners of this sex.

The fourth SECTION. The tenth Order of Women, full of Wis∣dom, and Virtue.

THe young Emperour took great pleasure to hear the Empress his mother speak so freely concerning the nature of women; and he prayed her to perform her promise touching the cha∣racters, which might serve him in the choice he meant to make; whereupon she replied:

The last and most excellent Order of women is that, which heretofore was called the order of Bees; women truly divine, who seem to have been made up∣on Celestial globes by the hands of Angels, so sweet is their nature, their virtue so rare, and price so unvalua∣ble. They are in houses as the sun in his Orb, (a) 2.341 and he that would equal their worth, should he draw out all mettals and precious stones which the earth hideth in its veins, would rather find insufficiency in his purpose, than want of merit in his object.

Bees (as said an (b) 2.342 Ancient) having nothing mor∣tal in them but death: they perform actions worthy of immortality. Bees are labourers from the day of their birth; and it seemeth these are framed for the practice of virtues from their cradle. Bees have their little wings; these meditation and action. Those have a sting, these a point of vigour, which is the instrument of all perfections. Those live under a King, and these consecrate themselves to the obedience of Laws both divine and humane. Those are great enemies of or∣dure, and these live in the delights of chastity. Those travel incessantly, and lose not a day unless heaven en∣force it (c) 2.343; these are perpetually in the exercise of good works, and loose no time but to give it unto God. Those never stay upon withered flowers; and these set not their hearts upon any fading things which are under the Moon. Those have their hives rubbed with bitter herbs, to defend them from vene∣mous creatures; and these use mortification of flesh against the poison of pleasures. Those make them∣selves counterpoises with certain little stones to flie the better; and these make a counter-ballance with humility to soar the higher. Those make honey which serves for nourishment and medicine; these have ever charity in their hands to cure the wounds and acerbities of the life of the poor, succouring their want by their liberalities. Those make the Al∣tars to shine by the help of wax, which they pro∣duce; these adorn and enrich all the Church with the travel of their hands or wealth of their Cabinets. What would you to be more noble, or divine? Why then are you amazed, if the Scripture (d) 2.344 hath said, That houses and riches came from parents, but a wise and a virtuous wife from the hand of God?

The fifth SECTION. A brief Table of the excellent qualities of a Ladie; and first of true Devotion.

THe Gentle-women that stood round about the Empress, expressed much earnestness to know in few words the excellent qualities of a woman truly virtuous; and Euphrosina, not to frustrate their desire, proceeded in these terms:

A Ladie well accomplished, is like a star with five rays, which are the five virtues, of Devotion, Modestie, Chastitie, Discretion, and Charitie (a) 2.345. Devotion formeth the interiour, Modestie makes it appear in the exteriour with a requisite comeliness, Chastitie perfecteth both the one and the other, Di∣scretion applieth it to the direction of others, and Charitie crowneth all her actions.

(b) 2.346 A woman without Devotion, were she com∣posed as a Pandora, and had she all the beauties which the heart can desire, and the imaginations feign; is a Bee without a sting, which will make neither honey nor wax; is a savage beast that nature hath lodged in a painted house; is a case covered with precious stones, to preserve a dung-hill; is a Michol, who appeared outwardly with a Crown, and lived in∣wardly a slave to her passions; is a piece of flesh al∣ready half rotten, having not so much as one grain of salt in it. Corruption will creep into her life, disorder into her manners, infamie into her reputa∣tion, and despair into her salvation. Devotion is a virtue hereditary to our sex; it is the first portion which God hath granted us; it is the title which the Church hath given us; it is the most eminent mark of our Nobility. If we loose this ornament, I cannot see why we should pretend to live, having renounced the honour of Christianity.

But to tell you my opinion, Devotion being no other thing but a prompt and vigorous affection, which disposeth us to all that which concerneth the service of God, it seemeth to me, that many among us have great illusions in this point, and oftentimes court a fantasie, thinking to entertain a truth.

There are of those, who by over-much embracing Altars have overthrown them, (c) 2.347 and broken the Idol of Dagon, to set their own judgement up in the place thereof.

I have seen very many, who have a slight devotion of apish tricks, which onely consisteth in a certain light and childish imitation of countenances and ge∣stures, having not any solidity in the interiour. For my part, I imagine when I think upon such apparen∣ces of piety without effect, that if apes had a little stu∣died our countenances, they would much exceed us in * 2.348 this point: For they are great and mischievous imita∣tours of all they see; witness those, who washed their eyes in a bason full of glew, having observed a hunts∣man, who washed his with fair water; and he who be∣ing desirous to bathe a little infant in imitation of its nurse, hastened to plunge it in a boyling cauldron. How many do we daily see in the seemings of affected piety, who so well act all countenances, as if with such merchandize Paradise were to be purchased? And in the mean space they are altogether devoid of true virtues; so that he who could penetrate into their hearts, should find they were like to those pearls, which in stead of a solid body, have nothing but the husk.

Some take devotion as a slight pastime; others as a light complement; others bend that way for compla∣cence to the humours of another; others for glory: and although they have consciences as rude as those of the Countrey, they would willingly draw Sera∣phins out of Heaven to govern them, to the end that although they cannot have devotion, they may at the

least gain the reputation to seek after the perfectest: others are thereto transported for some slender cloak of liberty, and certain accommodations of their own proper interest.

I do not say, but that there are a great number who have intentions most pure and proceed very piously, but we must affirm, that the defects whereof we speak, may craftily slide into the infirmity of our sex.

For, what may we say of a creature to whom ten years of devotion, twelve hundred communions, and a thousand exhortations have not yet taken off one hair of vanity? What may we think of her, who eat∣eth the immortal Lamb twice or thrice a week, and daily on all occasions becometh a Lioness in her house? What may we judge of her, who so many times layeth the holy Eucharist on her tongue, as a seal of the Spouse, not being able to bridle or restrain it so far, as to forbear so many indiscreet and evil words? what may one presume of her, who makes a scruple to drink cool in sommer, and to behold a flower with delight, yet feeleth no remorse of con∣science, to have spoken more slanders in one dinner, than she hath eaten morsels? Verily we betray devoti∣on, which is of it self fair and glorious, when we use it in such sort, and we give matter to exorbitant souls how to justifie their sins by our deportments, to which they ever have but too much inclination, and, think that in depainting us with a coal, they make them∣selves as white as snow. There are others, who de∣sire devotions extatike and ravishing, disguised in strange words, in fashions never heard of, in ceremo∣nies not accustomed. All that which is just, prudent, and moderate, tasteth too much of common; other paths must be found to Paradise; new habits must be cut out for God under the mould of their fancy, to make him known. I am not ignorant, that there are in Religious Orders souls purified from the dregs of the world, which have apprehensions of God most e∣late; nor would I for any thing condemn such bles∣sings. But when in ordinary life they speak to me of fashions so extraordinary, I ever go along with a lead∣en pace, so much do I feare, lest for a strong piety, I find a body of smoke. I add also others, who make to themselves a devotion hydeous, pensive, & melancho∣ly, which amazeth those who behold it with the one∣ly sight thereof; they voluntarily resigning themselves to, as it were, perpetual tortures of the mind. This vir∣tue hath but too much slander in the world; we have nothing else to do, but to hide its beauty, and to give it a mask of terrour, to affright those, who have busi∣ness enough to free themselves from their sensuality. I esteem the devotion most proper for our sex, is that which hath least of affectation, & most of effect. Eve∣ry one will be able to direct the prayers she ought to make, Confessions, Communions, according to her own capacity, profession, and leisure; using therein the counsel of some that govern her conscience, but let her assure her self, she shall never tast devotion at the fountain head, but in the practise of virtues, and the constancie of good resolutions.

The sixth SECTION. Modestie.

AFter the interiour is directed by the motions of piety, followeth the virtue of Modestie, which proclaimeth us exteriourly. It is the needle of the dyal, which sheweth how our souls circumvol∣veth times, and the hours of the day: it, which witnes∣seth the power we have over our passions; it, which formeth us after the model of great souls; it which causeth us to appear in conversation, in a manner not onely regular, but sweet, honest, and examplar.

It is the virtue, which S. Peter the Apostle requi∣red * 2.349 of our sex, when he advised us to hold the in∣ward man in the incorruptibility of a spirit peacea∣ble and modest. This is seen in the carriage, gestures, and countenances; but especially in speech, and habits. We cannot believe how wise we are in simplicity, and how powerfull in mildness.

It is the strongest armour we have from nature. When we mannage a spirit, and govern an affair by these sweet and peaceable waies, we astonish the most confident, we disarm the stoutest, and triumph over conquerours, We have nothing to do but to hold our peace, and our silence speaketh by us. But when di∣vesting us of this spirit of sweetness, modesty, and docibility, we put on a fashion haughty, scornfull, & turbulent, we are onely able in loud noises, which render us contemptible to those who are more pow∣erfull than we, troublesome to our equals, intolera∣ble to our inferiours, and hatefull to all the world. With this mild temper of spirit, Hester changed King Ahasuerus into a lamb; with the same, Abigail, was much stronger than the arms of David; and Je∣sabel with her natural cruelty having slain Innocents, ruined Cities, disturbed States, was thrown out of a high window on the pavement, to be trampled all bloudy under the feet of horses.

But as concerning Modesty, which regardeth the comliness of body & attire, it is a strange thing, how many complaints are made against us upon this point. We have already served for the space of so many A∣ges as a common place to Preachers, matter of cen∣sure for Edicts, a fable for Cities, and laughter to our selves. In the mean time this love of bravery is so throughly engrafted in our spirits, that we will not despoil us of it, but with our skin. It is an original sin, which all women carry with them from their mothers womb, for which there is no Baptism to be found, & he that should go about to wash us from this stain, we would have an action against him. Yea, were this onely usual among great Ladies, for whom earth, rivers, and seas, seem to produce wherewith to satis∣fie their curiosity, it would appear less strange. but all women are born with this passion, & they so heartily hug it, that there will be almost no distinction made in orders, since there is so much confusion in ha∣bits.

Citizens wives will become Queens, & if we here∣after would be taken, for Queens, we must become Citizens wives. Perhaps those who censure us in this point, require too much of us, and some are therein transported with so much zeal, that if we would be∣lieve them, we should make all the Maries of Egypt to be at Court. Those who intend to treat with us in this manner, by falling upon our hair and attires, touch not our hearts; for could any one truely per∣swade us to virtue, we should cover our selves with a sack, so that it might advance the glory of God, and the profit of our neighbour: yet do I think we have some right to comliness, and propriety in our gar∣ments, ever abiding within the limits of the most regular, in such sort, that the wise may not blame our superfluities, nor those who are more favourable ac∣cuse our defects.

But to speak sincerely, there is a kind of frenzy in our proceeding. He who should see the stuffs taken up somtimes at the Mercers to cloth a little body, whereof the worms will quickly make a dung-hill, would say they had undertaken to cover some huge Whale: and he who should reckon up all the furnitures of a Ladie, as they lie on a table, having never seen a∣ny woman, would think it were a Mercery to fur∣nish a little Citie: we resemble those birds, which have no body, and are as it were nought else but fea∣thers; we use therein so many fashions, disguizes, and invention, that we tire our spirits; so much stu∣die and affection, that many of us make so much

business about a ruff, as if we had a Common-wealth of Athens to manage.

And that which is most horrible, is, these vanities are drawn from the bloud of the poor; and in the same proportion as they are extracted, they so impo∣verish, as I fear posterity may have more cause to curse our dissolutions, than cherish them. Nay, worse is done, when they so vehemently affect to begin the a∣dultery of their bodies by that of the face, that it is insensibly eaten into with painting and poyson, as if they would derive beauty from corruption. Then cer∣tain fashions of apparel are found out, which seem to be made rather to sell bodies, than to cover them. I do not know what may be reserved for the eyes of a chast husband, when through all markets the secret parts of his wives body are exposed as open, as if they were ready to be delivered over to the best bidders. I cannot tell what husbands can be pleased with the publication of this nakedness, if not certain Platonists, who would approve the law this Philosopher made, as it is said, of community of beds, than the doctrine of idaeaes, which would be viands too empty to sa∣tiate the hunger of concupiscence. Verily, if we yet retain a vien of the perfect Christianity which swaied in the golden age, we ought to stifle by a generous consent, all these abuses, and make of the spoils of su∣perfluity a Sacrifice of mercy, giving in part for the relief of the poor, that, which hitherto we have dedicated to the fantasies of our spirits. Since we are born with some supereminencies of body, and are the goodliest creatures of the world, why should we go about to beg glory from poisons of the earth, from worms, and spoils of the dead? If opinion have put us unto it, it is now long since withered by the con∣fusion of so many hands, who incessantly gathered it. The glory of the greatest Ladies shall not hereafter survive, but in great modesty.

The seventh SECTION. Chastitie.

THis is the shortest way we have to the preser∣vation * 2.350 of Chastity, an incomparable virtue, and the richest jewel of our sex. It ought to be as natural to us, as flight to birds, swimming to fishes, beauty in flowers, and rays in the sun. You need not ask, what may become of a maid or wife, who is prodigal of a good, which should be as firm∣ly united to her body, as her hearts: She is capable of all sorts of crimes, and were there question to open all the gates of hell, incontinency alone would put the keys into her hands. There is no beast in the world that is not better than a prostitute, who by the disho∣nour of her bed hath charged her soul with sins, her body with intemperance, her renown with reproach∣es, and her memory with execration. We ought so to instruct our daughters in the virtue of purity, that they may not know the least shadow of sins which are committed in the world. I approve not those lit∣tle Dynaes, who will see and smell out so many cu∣stomes of Countries, and entertainments; for they too soon learn that, which they too late will forget, and take so much fire in at the ears and eyes, that water enough will not be found to extinguish it. I do not wish a maid, though very young, should be delighted in the company of children which are not of her own sex. I likewise fear those of her sex, who are too curious, their company is sometimes so much the more dangerous than that of men, as we least take heed of a domestick enemy. That Chastity is ever the most stable, which knoweth not so much as what voluptuousness may pretend unto. I will think crows might become nightingales, when any one should * 2.351 make me believe, that a creature of our sex, which is delighted to hear or utter scoffs, & speeches of dou∣ble sense, which cover ordure under golden words, ei∣ther is chast, or can any long time continue as she is.

Let us guard the eyes, mouth, and ears of those young maidens, as Temples dedicated to Honour, and let us do nothing in their presence, which they can∣not imitate without sin: let us teach them not to addict themselves, either to pleasures of the mouth, or sleight desires, to take and freely possess any petty favours. A creature which much coveteth to have that which her condition cannot afford, hath many enemies in her heart, which will deliver her body o∣ver to dishonour, and her soul to confusion. Let us cut off as much as we may so many wanton songs, idle books, infamous pictures, gossipings, dancings, and banquets: never is a beast taken but with some bait, nor chastity lost, but that such attractives serve as fore-runners.

There are not so many lost spirits to be found a∣mong women well bred, who in sin pretended no∣thing but sin: but the love of divers Ladies proceed∣eth rather from vanities of the mind, than weakness of the body. They desire to be in some esteem and ad∣miration of those, who can neither esteem nor admire them, but in the pretensions of their own interests: they take delight to be commended for their beau∣ties, which never any man so profusely applaudeth, as not to hope to be paid for his praises. They are subject to much credulity, whether it be through some easi∣ness of nature too weak, or by overmuch presumption and self-love, in such sort, that they quickly esteem themselves fair, and worthy to be beloved by those who feign affection, not seeing that fishes are taken with nets, and women with the credulity of their light belief. They undertake designs to make servants, who are not of the order of Arch-angels, to serve them as Raphael did Tobie, not pretending power o∣ver their hearts and honours. They are infinitly de∣lighted to see a man prostrate at their feet, especially when he hath some qualities, which put him into the estimation of the world. It is a glory among the quaintest to have gained slaves, who love their chains, and who will no longer live nor die but for them. This is the cause they counterfeit themselves to be little Idols, and take many sacrifices of smoak; and although they at that time have not any intention to offend God, notwithstanding they suffer themselves to dissolve among so many offers of services, comple∣ment, and protestations; and in the end feel it is a ve∣ry hard matter to defend ones self from an enemy, who onely assaulteth us with gold and incense. Drops of rain are composed of nothing but water, and do by their continual fall penetrate stones: so, much sweetness of words, submissions, and observances re∣doubled one upon another, are able to make a rock rent in sunder: how can they but transport a woman, who issuing from a bone, faileth not to retain all the softness of flesh.

Love sometimes hath wings to fall upon its prey with a full souce, and sometimes it goeth along with a crooked pace. That which it cannot obtain by a prompt heat, it expecteth from a constant importuni∣ty. From thence ensue private conversation, and disor∣ders, which make tales in cities, stage-plaies, & bloudy tragedies, which being begun behind a curtain, are many times ended at the gallows. I do not find a bet∣ter remedy to stop the beginnings of lust, than to be∣hold the end thereof. A Lady who solicited in mat∣ter of dishonour, in the first baits shall draw the cur∣tain, and behold a huge gulf of scandals, injuries, ra∣ges, and despairs, will as willingly descend into Hell alive, as consent to this bruitish passion. She will seaso∣nably proceed to remedies, and unfold her heart in the secret of Confession, will discover the deceipt of it, and by this means avoid an infinity of disasters. Thrice, yea four-fold happy is she, who will take these words as an Oracle, and enchace them in her heart to remember them eternally.

The eight SECTION. Discretion in the mannage of affairs.

WHen we have begun to polish our selves by these virtues, Discretion will regularly ap∣ply us to conversation and affairs, every one * 2.352 according to her qualities.

A woman is a poor thing, which hath no imploy∣ment nor discretion; as there are many to be found, who having lived to the age of ninety years have not learned any thing, but to dress and undress them∣selves. Why should we have a reasonable soul, were it not to enrich it with knowledges, which are ne∣cessary to us, both for our selves, & the government of those which fall into our hands? As we profess not to be wise, so we have not made a vow of stupidi∣ty. We should love as our eye-sight the reading of good books, which teach us how to become better, for they are wise companions, and honest entertain∣ments, from whence we never behold jealousies nor scandals to arise. It is not a very barren delight to be∣hold women, who as soon as they have made a silly complement, have nothing else to say, unless they talk of their ruffs, or some such kind of trifles? At the least, I wish those, who never have been willing to learn to speak, would one day practise to hold their peace: But they deafen the world with their prattle, and daily deliver an Iliad of speeches, wherein there is not so much as one good word. Tell me not these maids so knowing are more subject to caution: I would not have them▪ I say unto you, all learned, as the Sybils and Muses, but who will envy them an ho∣nest science of things, which serve for the direction of manners? There is none but spiders, and such little creatures, that turn flowers into poison. We ought not to fear that a maid, to whom good foundations of humility and devotion are given, will abuse this celestial manna, which is found in sage Writers.

I have learned from one full of wisdom and expe∣rience, that for one young virgin instructed in learn∣ing, which hath failed in her honour, twenty other have been found of the ignorant, who have so much the more grosly erred, as they had the less know∣ledge of their fault. I intend not by this counsel pro∣posed, which is to perfect them by reading, that there∣fore we give liberty to the curiosity of reading of all sorts of books, and namely those which treat of loves, though in a very gentile manner; for they have a lit∣tle sting in them, soft as silk, which insensibly enters into the heart; and when they describe this passion unto you with so many exquisite terms and honest inventions, they create so beautifull loves, that in seek∣ing to imitate them, we produce such as are deform∣ed. If we must become learned, we ought to do it in that manner as the Saints, Tecla, Catharina, Eudoxia, Marcella, Paula, Fabiola, Eustochium, who with the spoils of Egypt, furnished the Cross and Altars of our Saviour: Nor would I advise a virgin to go and hide her self in a granary or cave, to devour books: It is fit she season her reading with works proper to her profession. Let us never suffer her to be idle, but so soon as age rendereth her capable, let us give her some little direction and exercise in the house. For why should we be ashamed to work with the needle, since Augustius Caesar, the founder of Empires▪ reputed such kind of imploiments not unworthy of his daughters; and that the Romans many years pre∣served, as a relick, the distaff of Queen Tanaquilla, much more charily than the lance or sword of Ro∣mulus; thinking, it was more necessary to give women examples of industry, than furnish men with idaeaes of war? One would not believe, how much the earnest∣ness some have upon a good piece of work, diverteth all other passions, which may embroil the spirit; but whosoever will make trial, shall find that innocencie is never better lodged than at the sign of labour. I leave you to think, when a maid hath endeavoured to learn from her tender years, matters fit for house∣wivery, even to the kitchin, what a goodly light is in that house, whether it proceed from a father, or from a husband, for the direction of the family, the government of men, and maid-servants, the example of youth, and the comfort of the family. She maketh her self necessary in the best affairs, there is much re∣pose in her prudence, her health is accounted impor∣tant, her life precious, her death deplorable, and her memory replenished with honour. The wisest of men Solomon, hath given no other marks to know a virtu∣ous woman, than the Oeconomy she holdeth in the government of her family. She hath considered (saith * 2.353 he) the paths of her house, and hath not eaten her bread in idleness; she hath taken pains in linnen and wollen. She is become as a ship laden with victuals and riches. She riseth before day to provide fitting food for her fa∣milie. She hath made purchase of farms, and entertain∣ed traffick. She hath put her hand to work then opened it to the necessity of the poor. All her servants are in good order; her husband, and children cannot sufficientlie praise her for her great wisdom. She is a lamp which will never be extinguished in the darkness of night. Behold somewhat near the terms which he useth to reckon up the perfections of a wife, ending with wisdom, and fear of God, which is the first and last ornament.

The ninth SECTION Conjugal Love.

IN the end; as love is a generous passion which by * 2.354 its good government crowneth all virtues, I would advise a married Ladie, for the accom∣plishment of her perfection, to bear a most cordial charity towards her husband. This is no hard matter when there is good fortune and correspond∣ence in marriages: for complacence ever maketh wings for love, and it is held a happiness to love that, which pleaseth our passion. But it is a most pitifull thing, when parents blinded with avarice, and charm∣ed with the sweetness of pretended interests, renew the example of cruel Mezentius, who tyed the living to the dead, and endeavoured to match a poor young maid, who surviving in favours & blessings from hea∣ven, with a husband putrified in vices, ordures, and diseases of body. Then is a time when much virtue is to be shown, in putting on a resolution to love a monster, from their most tender years to their tomb. What should we do therein? The law of nature gives us free permission to desire good husbands, but the laws of marriage exhort us to bear thē, as much as we may, howsoever they prove. If we love for our selves, this is impossible; but if for God, we therein shall find duty and facility. A woman cannot seek out a short∣er way to the perfection of her sex, than by wedding the humours of her husband, so that they be not op∣posite to the commandments of God: she who well obeyeth, commandeth well; and when we once have surprised the heart of a man, there is not any thing resisteth our wills.

Union is a marvellous cement, which so straightly knitteth obedience and power together, that it is a very hard matter to distinguish him who obeyeth, from him that commandeth. We have in all ages ex∣celled in this conjugal piety, & there are hereof so ma∣ny rare examples to be found, that pens are troubled * 2.355 to express, as well as ears to believe them. Tender & delicate young maidens have been seē, who inconside∣rately married to husbands, worn out with maladies, perceiving frō the first night of her nuptials, unguents,

ulcers, and evil savours; and finding a counterfeit health in bodies, more fit for a tomb than a marri∣age bed, yet have not abandoned them, but loved, honoured, and served them, watching sometimes fourtie days, and fourtie nights about their beds, ne∣ver disarraying themselves Some one man hath been found among others, whose indisposition drawing along with it seven years together the stench of wounds that were incurable, the horrible infirmitie of members which appeared wholly disfigured, did weaken all the forces of those who were willing to assist him, overthrew the patience of the most faith∣full, wasted the charitie of the most zealous, yea even such as do all for money abhorred to come near him And then to see a young maiden of sixteen years of age, weak of complexion, handso•• of bodie and en∣dowed with a beautie which the most flourishing husbands would have coveted, to tie her self to this dead body, to stir it, touch it, cleanse it, to give it broths, to blow the powder of herbs into the nostrils of it, which distilled an humour insupportable to all the world, to cut his beard, and hair, when no man would undertake this adventure; is it not a miracle of our sex worthy of the admiration of men, the ap∣plause of histories and love of all posteritie?

What shall I say of one Eponina, who having e∣spoused * 2.356 a husband much clogged with troublesom affairs & crimes, yea even of treason, was 9 years shut up with him in the vault of a sepulchre; and after∣wards seeing him to be discovered, and condemned to death by the Emperour Vespatian, would needs ac∣company him to execution, & die with him, saying she alreadie was prepared for a tomb, and that she could better tolerate it dead than alive? What should I speak of a Persian Queen, named Cabadis, who seeing her husband detained in prison, came to visit him, not suffering her self to be known; and gi∣ving him her garments of a wife, to put on those of a husband, afforded him opportunitie to escape, pay∣ing afterward with her noble bloud the errour of her pietie?

Are not these prowesses worthy to be written in letters of gold and azure, to be exposed to the view of all Ages? A thousand-fold happy they, whose concord hath bound love up with chains of ada∣mant, separation never finding place in the knot of marriage, which God hath been pleased to tie with his own hands. Let us for this cause preserve us from jealousie, which useth to grow from the most beauti∣full loves, as those worms, which are said to issue from the fairest flowers. It is a most unhappy passion, formed by fantasie, attired by suspitions, darkened by discontents, sed with bad humours by curiositie, entertained with impostures by slander, which gnaw∣eth asunder all that which there is of virtue in chast affections, troubleth the repose of beds, embroyleth the affairs of housholds, reateth alliances, produceth monsters, soweth fury and rage, and having torment∣ed all the world, devoureth it self. If our husbands fall into this miserie, let us pitie them as franticks, and take away from them all manner of occasions which may stir up their imaginations, and if the like maladie surprize us, let us not resemble those women, who have travelled in the dead time of night through huge forrests full of horrour, that they might hasten to watch their husbands, accompanied onely with their passions, whereof some fell between the teeth of wild beasts, which to them were more pleasing than the executioner they retained in their own proper en∣trails.

We oftentimes in this point more bewail our own interests, than the offence done to God; and it is no strange thing, that she who loveth ill should be de∣prived of what she affecteth. When there is sin in it, let us deplore it, let us endeavour to remedie it by prayers; by discretion, by patience, by all the most holy industries we may use therein. We shall find our selves strong in silence and hope; and not in ceaseless com∣plaints, which have no other effect, but to fret wounds, and renew disasters.

The tenth SECTION. The care of children.

TO hide nothing from you, women, who are called to the Sacrament of Marriage, ought to be very perfect; because they have as it were in their mannage the most precious interest of posteritie, they being chosen out to bring forth and educate Children, which are to be members of the body of State.

It hath often been questioned from whence procee∣ded the good and evil nature of men; and I find that many have attributed it to the divers aspects of Pla∣nets, as by a fatal necessity: But to say truly, this Astro∣logie of fools, and webs of spiders, are as it were but one thing, both being fit to catch flies, and not de∣ceive understanding men. I hold opinion, good mo∣thers make the good nature of children; and it hath ever been observed, that great personages who have flourished in some eminencie of virtues, have taken from thence as it were generally the first impressions of sanctitie.

If chast daughters chance to be born of inconti∣nent mothers, it is almost as rare as to see nettles bear gilliflowers. Let us preserve our bodies as temples, to bring forth more virtues than flesh for the publik, and when God affordeth us issue, let it be one of our chiefest cares to train it up in his service. My heart bleedeth when I consider how now adaies many chil∣dren of quality are bred, which are stifled with servile indulgences under the shadow of dandling them. God sends them as creatures, with which he intend∣eth to support the world govern Common-wealths, people heaven, and adorn even the conversation of Angels: but to see how they are used, it seemeth that pieces of flesh are ingendered, which are onely to be licked as bears, to give them true perfections. They are loaden with fat and the kitchin, they are enter∣tained in the full fruition of all the desires of their hearts; they are observed like little Kings, who are not as yet many times above five years of age and already exercise a Monarchy in the houses of their parents. Je∣sus Christ banished Idolatrie from the world with so much sweat and bloud, and it is again daily renewed, when children are set up as certain little Idols, to whom all hearts, respects hopes, fears, and homages are sacrificed. I beseech you, let us not cause them to learn that which we should make them forget; let us not accustom them to mimick affectation of words, to pomp of habits, to liberty, to pleasures. Let us at∣tire them for the service of God, and exercises suita∣ble to their sex and condition; and above all, let us take heed they be not poysoned by the ear, in the fre∣quent conversation of such bad company, who seem to be born for nought else, but to infect purity.

The eleventh SECTION. The conclusion of the discourse.

THe Emperess held ears and hearts suspended with this her discourse, when seeing the hour approch, wherein choice should be made of a wife for the Emperour her son: Behold the time (saith she) my Lord and son, when your Majestie must consign the golden Apple into the hands of her, whom you shall judge to have the best portion of those excellent qualities, which I have recited. And saying that, she caused a goodly room to be opened, whereupon one

side were seen pictures of Ladies, who flourished in the more elder Ages in sanctitie, in spirit, in courage, and in all virtues mentioned by us, which composed a triumphant Court. There was Sarah, Rachel, Lea, Deborah, Abigail, Susanna, Esther, Judith, Mariamne, S. Agnes, S. Cecilie, S. Helena, S. Monica, S. Faelicitas, the ten Sybils, Zenobia, Amalazunta, Placidia, Pulche∣ria, Eudoxia, Theodora, Marcella, Paula, Eustochium, Victorina, Clotilda, Radegundis, and very many other, not comprizing those who have flourished within these eight hundred years: which much amazed me, and made me say, that such as affirmed women of honour were so rare to be found, would perhaps have some trouble to find leaves on trees, and water in the river. All these pourtraits appeared with lights of glory in a most pleasing manner, having enchase∣ments all enriched with pretious stones. Behold, saith Euphrosina, O virgins, how precious us the memorie of holy Ladies. Then turning her self to the other side, she shewed with her finger the figures of such as had forsaken honour and virtue, which were pale, pen∣sive, cloudie, and encompassed with flames, as if they came out of hell. There was Semiramis, Phedra, This∣be, Phillis, Hellen of Greece, Clitemnestra, Cleopatra, Agrippina, Julia, Messalina, Calirrhoe, Thais, Phryne, Rhodope, Flora; and in perspective so great a quantitie, that it seemed to equal the sands of the sea, not ac∣counting those therein, who afterward had a share in their miserie.

The Emperour having observed them, entered in∣to the room called the Pearl, where he saw so many pearls selected from all the provinces of his Empire. There was nothing to be seen but stars, lightening, and rays, so much these beauties on every side ming∣ling their lights afforded lustre, which gave him much difficultie how to resolve. There was among others one named Icesia, a maid of much knowledge, to whom the Emperour Theophilus spake a Greek verse, to which she replied with an admirable prompt∣ness; notwithstanding he relished not this spirit, find∣ing it too curious for his humout: but after infor∣mation taken from his eyes, his ears, and the mouthes of those who bred these creatures, he gave the golden apple to one named Theodora, a Paphlagonian by Na∣tion, whom I notwithstanding cannot think to come near her, whom I here represent for a model.

[illustration]

S. CLOTILDE I.R.C.D.E.F.

CLOTILDA.

The first SECTION. Her Birth and Education.

THE number of Ladies eminent in san∣ctitie * 2.357 is so great, that it rebateth the point of wit to think thereon, and the virtues are so resplendent, that in the commixtion of their lights they dazle all eyes, in such manner, that it is a hard matter to speak of it, unless we put some limits upon the dis∣courses of so many singular subjects, who set none on their merits. And that is the cause, why out of a great number of Princesses, some of those whose names I have produced, I here undertake one, raised upon the most perfect idaea's; which is

the first Christian Queen of France, I mean the most glorious Clotilda, wife of our great Clodovaeus, who verily is much bound to Heaven to have been chosen out for the advancement of the affairs of Christiani∣tie in this flourishing Monarchy, with prowesses and successes incomparable; so likewise are we tied to her in an immortal obligation, to have cast the first seeds of piety into the Court of our Kings, that it might with the more authoritie, enter into the souls of all their subjects.

The good Princess like to a pearl which com∣eth from the salt sea, beheld her self involved al∣most from her birth in great acerbities and horrible confusions, from whence she arose with so much lustre, as she made of adversities the steps to the temple of glory. She was daughter of Chilperick, who contending for the scepter against Gombaut his elder brother, King of Burgundy, with more temeri∣tie than reason, sunk down to the ground, and was forsaken by the people, whom he had excited against this his brother, who verily was a bad King. But God who giveth Sovereigns leave to reign, favou∣ring a just cause even in the person of an evill man, gave victorie to the elder. He most truly made use of his fortune; for having surprized his younger bro∣ther at the siege of a City, he caused him to loose his head on a scaffold; and not content with this mur∣ther, extended his vengeance against the wife of the deceased by an act most unworthy. For causing a stone to be tied to her neck, she was thrown into the river; and it was a great chance he had not inflicted the like upon two other virgins, the lamentable re∣mainders of this unfortunate marriage. But behold∣ing them as yet so young and innocent, he thought their life could not be prejudicial to his estate, and their death might be ignominious to his reputation. Behold the reason why he contented himself to shut the one of them up in a Monastery, and retained the other, which was our Clotilda, with himself, that she might be bred in his Court.

The holy maid entereth into the Palace of her Uncle, as a sheep into a Lions den, having no rea∣son to repose much assurance in a man, who still had the bloud of her father and mother in his hands. Notwithstanding, great is the power of virtue, when it is enchaced in beautie. For this cruel Basilisk, who had an eye of bloud and poyson, no sooner conside∣red the praise-worthy parts of this Princess, but that feeling himself dazeled with her aspect, and his heart softened with the innocency of this poor orphan, he instantly took compassion upon her, who never incli∣ned to it before.

He began to behold her with a pleasing counte∣nance, to endear her, to wish and promise her much good. But the good creature, who could not think after so strange an affliction she was any more to pretend to greatness, and pleasures of the world, threw her self between the arms of the Cross, that there she might find those of God: and though in publick she stifeled the resentments of her sorrow with a discreet patience, not resisting the storm, nor striking her head against the rocks; yet in the secrecy of her retirement she daily dissolved her self into tears, and found no comfort but in the wounds of the worlds Saviour.

My God (said she to him) I adore your holy providence, which drencheth me with gall and wormwood, in an age wherein maidens of my qualitie accustom not to walk but on roses; perhaps you know my pride hath need of such a counter∣poise, and you in all equitie have done that which your wisdom thought good. Behold I have my eyes still all moistened with the bloud of my father, and the bodie of my poor mother, which being covered with so many waves, cannot have over it one silly tear from the eyes of her daughter, which fail not every night to pour forth streaming rivers. My God, Your name be blessed eternally: I require nought else of you, but the participation of your sufferings. It is no reason I here should live with∣out some light hurt, seeing you wounded on all sides for my example. Some have been pleased to wish me I should receive and take contentments in the hope of a better fortune; where would they have me gather those pleasures? I am yet upon the weep∣ing shores of the river of Babylon. I fix all my con∣solations and songs at the feet of your Cross; promi∣sing to desire nothing more in the world, but the performance of your holy will.

There is I know not what kind of charm in holy sadness, which cannot be sufficiently expressed, but such it is, that a soul contristated for God, when it is fallen into abysses, wherein all the world reputes it lost, findeth in the bottom of its heart lights and sweetnesses so great, that there is not any comfort in the world to be compared with them.

Clotilda was already come to these terms: and if for obedience she had not learned to leave God for God, she had been softened with those tears by suf∣fering her self voluntarily to slide into a lazy sor∣row: but considering that whilest she was in the house of this uncle, an Arian heretick, she was bound by God to instruct with her example all those who were to be spectatours of her actions, she set her hand couragiously to the work, and shewed her self so able of judgement in her carriage, and so regu∣lar in all her deportments, that her life became a picture of virtue, which spake to all the world. Although she were derived from the bloud of Kings, she shewed to have no other nobility, but that which springs from worthy Actions. As her face was free from adulterate beauty, so her soul was ex∣empt from those affected authorities and disdains which ordinarily grow with great fortunes. Her aspects were simple and dove-like, her words dis∣creet, her actions sober, her gestures measured, her carriage honest, her access affable, her conversation full of sweetness and profit. She was a virgin in mind and body, living in marvellous purity of affecti∣ons, and amities, which she fomented by the vir∣tue of humility, which the Ancients esteemed to be as the wall of the garden of charity: God often∣times suffering impurity of body to chastise the re∣bellion of the soul. She was so humble of heart, that she accounted her self as the meanest servant of the house, not scorning at all to apply her self to infe∣riour offices; which she notwithstanding perform∣ed with so much majesty, that even in spinning with a distaff she seemed a Queen.

She was marvellously wise in her counsels, prompt and agil in execution, moderate in all good successes, constant in bad, ever equal to her self. She spake little, never slandered, envied none, did good to all the world, not pretending her own interests, expecting from God alone the character of her me∣rit, and the recompence of her charities. She had no worldly thing in her person, and as little regar∣ded her attyres, as the dust of the earth. She knew almost but one street in the City where she dwelt, which was the same that lead to the Church. Sports and feasts were punishments to her, and she was sel∣dom found in the company of men, unless it were some beggers, whose misery she assisted, Her whole heart went towards God, her feet to the Church, her hands to alms, her eys to reading books of devo∣tion, her arms to exercises and works of her sex; all her body to sacrifices and victims of her soul.

Observe, you young maids, who read these pages, of what wood God useth to frame Saints, and that never any happeneth to produce the miracles which Clotilda did in the conversion of a Kingdom, not act∣ing wonders of virtue in the interiour of the soul.

The King her uncle was so ravished with these pretious parts, that the excess of his admiration turned into a furious jealousy; for beholding this spirit more masculine than he could have wished, and fearing least she might be possessed by some other besides himself, he had no purpose to marry her, but kept her so straightly, that one would have said to have seen him, he was the dragon in fables, that ever stood centinel near the golden apple.

But, oh silly humane prudence, which still rowing against the current of the providence of God, find∣est as many precipices in passion as thou openest snares for innoceny! This man notwithstanding all his endeavours, which went the contrary way, bred up in his house a maid, whom God had already destined to chastise his cruelty, and make, he un∣witting thereof, his Scepter tributary to a valorous husband, who was to marry Clotilda, and joyn the Kingdom of virtues to the force of his arms.

The second SECTION. Clodovaeus requireth Clotilda in marriage.

CLodovaeus King of France, a man born to make it appear what valour may produce when it is supported by piety, dayly advanced his con∣quests among the Gauls, yet still in so many victories remained a slave to Idolatry. God was willing to win him to himself by the ways of chast love, and by the means of a wife, which should sanctifie his person and house.

The fame of the beauty and virtues of Clotilda, which spread through neighbour Kingdoms with so sweet an odour, failed not to approach him at that time, when he was upon terms to take a wife in lawful marriage. Love, which many times surpri∣zeth as well by the ear, as the eye, so enkindled him at the report made by his Embassadours of the per∣fections of this divine maid, that he no longer re∣tained either heart or thought, but for her. He affe∣cted what he never saw, with a love mixed with re∣verence, felt a more noble flame than he was wont, which scorched him with a generous passion, and ex∣cited him to require this Princess, as the type of his felicities. The difficulties proposed upon the effecting of this marriage, augmented desire in him. For he was of a vigorous spirit, who measured all by the greatness of his own courage, and resolved to break through obstacles, to crown his purposes. He ad∣dressed himself to his great favourite Arelianus, and having opened unto him the project of this marriage, would needs instantly dispatch him upon a solemn Embassage to confer with the maid, and treat with the King her uncle. This man who un∣derstood the suspicions and apprehensions of Gom∣baut, made it appear unto him, that the conquest of the golden fleece, and the marriage of Clotilda were almost one and the same thing; and that no access could be had to this maid, without first speaking to this bull, who threw flames and fire through his throat. Clodovaeus conjureth him to use all possible industries to satisfie his passion, assuring him he could not oblige him in any matter, whereof he would be more sensible. Aurelianus obeyeth, and taking a ring from the Kings finger, with certain other Jewels to present the Lady, hastened towards Burgundy.

I cannot here conceal, that which Baronius, the Father of Ecclesiastical History was unwilling to omit, seeing it is witnessed by good Authours, and hath nothing incredible therein, but onely with such, who think it is a note of wisdom to seem very in∣credulous.

We know by what hath been spoken before, that Clotilda seldom appeared in publick, if it were not at Church, and cast her eyes on very few, but the poor. God made use of this disposition for her good: for Aurelianus having learned this Lady day∣ly conversed willingly with needy persons, and that it was necessary to seem of this quality to speak unto her without suspicion, took the habit of a beggar, and as the servant of Abraham, sent by the first Father of believers, treated the loves of Isaac in requiring water of Rebecca, who was to be his future spouse; so this man managing the commssion of marriage, for the prime King of the faithful, resol∣ved to beg alms of Clotilda, to find means of access to her; and for this cause he stood at the gate of a Church among a great rabble of beggers, ex∣pecting till Mass were done, that he might see the Princess come forth. She failed not to perform acts of charity to all the poor according to her custom, and perceiving this man who seemed of a gene∣rous aspect in these miserable rags, felt her heart seized with extraordinary piety, beholding one of so good carriage reduced to such misery; and with∣out any further enquiry she gave him a piece of gold. Aurelianus seeing this royal hand so chari∣tably stretched out to succour a counterfeit want, whether he were transported with joy, or whether he were desirous to make himself observed by some act, he lifted up the sleeves of the Princess, which according to the fashion of robes than usually worn, covered all even to her hands, and having bared her right hand, kissed it with much reverence. Clotilda blushed heartily thereat▪ yet pas∣sed on further not shewing any resentment, nor blaming the begger as some Authours adde. Well saith she in secret to an old Lady, who was her confident friend, Have you observed what this begger did? The other replied: It was a very easie matter to note it, since this act had painted her forehead with a most lively scarlet: But yet (said Clotilda to her) what think you of it? The Lady an∣swered smiling, What can I els think, but that your rare perfections joyned to your liberality have transported him? For my part. I suppose (said the Princess) he hath some other design, and if you think good we will cause him to come to the Pa∣lace to beg alms, and thereupon take occasion to be informed of his person.

Aurelianus failed not to entertain this comman∣dement, which was the scope of his desire, and ac∣cordingly to pass to the place assigned him, where Clotilda beholding him soundly chid him for his boldness, in lifting up the sleeve of her garment and kissing her hand. He who was a most queint Cour∣tier, found out his evasion, and said: The custom of his countrey permitted to kiss the lips of La∣dies at salutation: but the happiness of his condi∣tion having abased him so low, he could not aspire to the face: Behold the cause why he contented himself with the hand, it being a thing very reaso∣nable to kiss a hand, which is the source of so many charities, since the doors of Churches from whence we expect good, are kissed. Clotilda was much pleased with this reply, and well saw this man belyed his habit by his discourse and garb. She therefore importuned to tell who he was, and from whence it proceeded that he was reduced to such misery as to beg his bread. Madam (saith Au∣relianus) since your Greatness presseth me thus far, you shall know I am born of a good place, and that it, which hath brought me to this state, is nothing els but the love of a Lady, whom I court, not for my self, but for one of the greatest Princes under Heaven. The maid was very curious to know who this Prince was, as also the Lady sought unto with so much pains. Aurelianus seeing it was now time to speak to the purpose, said: The Lady is three

steps from me, for indeed it is your self. At which she began to blush again, and to shew some disturb∣ance of mind: but (quoth he) Madam, trouble not your self, since I am in a place where I with confi∣dence may speak unto you, your Excellency shall know I am sent by Clodovaeus King of France, my Master, who is the best Prince, and the most valiant Monarch in the whole world. The fame of your most precious and eminent qualities coming to his ear, he desireth to marry you, and hath dispatched me to give you notice thereof, and require your consent. I could have entered into the Court with some very solemn Embassage; but the difficulties the King your uncle enforceth upon you, made me resolve to take this attyre, to speak to you with the more freedom. You may well assure your self, this marriage shall make you the prime Queen of the West, and the most happy in the world; and to ap∣prove the authority of my commission, behold the ring of the King my Master, which I present unto you.

There is not any woman so holy, who is not ca∣pable of much delight upon praises afforded her, and who doth not willingly open her eyes to greatness. Clotilda was not so insensible, as not to be touched to the quick with such an Embassage, howsoever she shewed in this surprisal, she had within her a heart very faithful to God; for most freely refusing the ring, and interrupting the Embassadour: Speak no more Syr (said she) I know your Prince is a Pagan, and I a Christian: God forbid that I ever marry an Infidel, were he the Monarch of the world. Madam, replieth the Gentleman, frame to your self no difficul∣ties upon the difference of Religions, my Prince is not so tied to his Sect, as not to forsake it for your love. But what means will there be said (Clotilda) to gain my uncle? I do not think he hath any purpose to marry me. The Embassadour answereth: If you give me your consent, we will find opportunity to bear you from hence. Not so (replyed the prudent maid) it is a course I will never admit. Ah, why Madam? saith Aurelianus: should you do it, who would condemn your discretion? Is it a sin in your Religion to flie from the den of a furious wretch, to resign your self into the hands of a King? We know how he used your father and mother, and how he also treateth you at this time.

At this word the Lady poured forth some tears, and said: Do by Embassadours all that possibly you can, and assure the King your Master, that I hold my self much honoured by the choise he maketh of me, and that he cannot be so soon for God, as I for him, at least in heart and body, when the King my uncle shall give me leave. Upon these conditions I take your ring, which I very charily will keep. All this passed very happily in a Court of the Palace, where she ordinarily spake to the poor; interroga∣ting them of their necessities; and none perceived there was any other business but the care of the poor, her confident friend onely excepted, who had a share in the secrets of Clotilda.

The third SECTION. The Embassage to the King of Burgundy for the marriage of Clotilda.

AUrelianus touched Heaven with his finger, that he had so successefully thrived in his com∣mission; and forgot not parcel-meal to relate to the King his Master all the particulars of his voy∣age, entertaining him above all with a curious dis∣course made upon the admirable beauty and singular prudence of Clotilda. Clodovaeus burnt with impa∣tience, and would presently have taken the King of Burgundy by the beard to make him let go his hold: but wisdom adviseth him he must observe therein requisite formalities, and that it was fit to send his Embassadours to Gombaut to require of him his neece in marriage▪ which he speedily did, appointing thereunto his faithful Aurelianus, to whom he allotted a flourishing company of No∣bility; which caused such apprehensions to arise in the mind of the Burgundian; that he slept not upon it either night or day. From whence pro∣ceedeth it, said he to himself, that Clodovaeus know∣eth my neece, since I have hitherto kept her so close, that she hath seen nothing, but the wals of the Church, and my Palace? Is there some eel under a rock? Would he have my estate? This French man is too harsh: I would neither have him for a son in law nor a neighbour. Besides, this maid, who hath seemed hitherto as a lamb in my house, being at my dispose, when she behold her self Queen of France, and have swords at her command, who can tell whether she will not shew me her teeth, and revenge on me the bloud of her father and mother? I must rather keep her immured within ten iron gates, that she may not escape my power. Behold a great act of State, which I must cunningly play.

This man environed with such thoughts recea∣ved the Embassadours of France very sleightly, and having promised with all speed to give them answer, he was wary enough not to discover all the thoughts he had thereupon: but taking the most pleasing pretext, answered, that he honoured the King Clo∣dovaeus, as one of the most valiant Princes of that Age, and should ever account the service done him, as one of the greatest favours he could receive from Heaven: but as for this alliance which he sought, it was a matter he could not thinke on. First because his neece had never raised her ambition so high, as to pretend marriage with so great a King, having no∣thing in her person so eminent as might deserve such a husband: and although there were some equality on this side, yet was there on the other part an assenti∣al impediment, which was diversity of Religions, it being a thing unheard of for a Christian maid to marry a Pagan, nor could he permit it without be∣traying the salvation of his nlece, and disgracing himself through the whole world. Aurelianus, who well knew where it itched with him, replyed in few words, That for the qualities of his neece he should not trouble himself, that the woman best beloved was ever best conditioned, that it was sufficient she plea∣sed the King his Majesty, who was not ignorant of her perfections: and for the matter of Religion, which was the most considerable, he hoped the King would put on a resolution to become a Christian. The Burgundian replied, this affair was of such im∣portance that he would not confide in successes upon hopes, which are always uncertain, but that he must see an express promise from the King of France; and thereupon dismisseth the Embassadour, thinking he had sufficiently hindered the business. But the brave Aurelianus speedily dispatched a Currier to Clodo∣vaeus, to shew unto him where the obstacle lay, and to get a promise from him to become a Christian.

The King, who was so transported with affecti∣on, that he was on tearms to refuse nothing, hastily gave the promise required of him: which being af∣terward presented to Gombaut by the Embassadour, it made him sweat apace; not knowing further what invention to make use off to avoid this fatal blow: notwithstanding he answered, that this mar∣riage was of so great consequence, that it could not be decreed, but in an Assembly of his States, think∣ing by this trick he might dissolve the design of Clodovaeus, or draw the affairs out at length with such delayes, that he should trouble all the world. But this was it which transfixed him; so far humane pru∣dence

is cunning to ruin it-self by its proper inven∣tions. For the most active French Nobility so jour∣ning in Burgundy in the expectation of the States, sowed in the spirits of the Magistrates and people▪ the great good would enfue to their Nation by this alliance, when they should come to be all united to∣gether, as brothers: but if they once refused the re∣quest of a great Prince, so replenished with honour and courtesie, they must necessarily proceed to arms, which could not but be fatal to their Kingdom. The Burgundians, hungry after repose, very well tasted these reasons; and the prudent Clotilda spared not silently to strike her stroak, insensibly gaining the chief of the Councel to follow her inclinations. Au∣relianus, who had a very sharp and clear-sighted spi∣rit, much pressed the States, nor could Gombaut make so many knots, but that he still dissolved them.

In the end he must come to the point. The States assembled, and the King came thither with a study∣ed speech, wherein he had heaped together with very great subtility all the reasons which made him ap∣prehend this alliance with the French: but God, who maketh great alterations in Kingdoms, as billows in the sea, so disposed the hearts of the Burgundians, that all allegations opposed against the design of this marriage, seemed but dreams and Chimaeraes. One of the greatest States-men rising up, made a long speech, and declared to the King, That the repose of his Kingdom, at which he aimed in all his discourse, consisted in this alliance: That marriages had in all times been rather the knots of peace, than incen∣tives of war: that the comfort which might grow from such an action, would destroy all the acerbities and divisions of factious spirits: that the greatest trou∣bles of Kingdoms had been often pacified by good alliances: that the French were become so powerful it was not fit to deny them any thing: that the re∣quest of Clodovaeus was so fair, it could not be reject∣ed without a notable act of incivility: That there was not any beast more cruel in the world, than love changed into hatred, and that it was to be fear∣ed least intreaties of a lover might end in the fury of a conquerour: That the offer he made to be∣come a Christian would for ever be glorious to their Nation, for furthering such a piety: That Clotilda had naturally affection for her Countrey, and wit enough to gain her husband, and wholly transport him to the love of her Nation: That the people were tyred with so many wars, which would infallibly grow much more bloudy than ever, if they slighted the faithful love of so great a Monarch.

This man connected so many reasons one upon another, that he prevailed, and almost all came to this conclusion, that they must with all speed send the Princess to the King of France, who required her. The miserable Gombaut finding himself ruined on all sides, said he would use no obstacle; but did think it fit to observe the deportments of his niece; for she had vowed her self to God, and to enter into Religion The Embassadour understanding this last evasion, extreamly laughed from the botom of his heart, and said, if the Princess were that way dispo∣sed, the King his Master would not be so earnest in her pursuit, as to cause her to break her vow. But that it was fit she should be heard, which was done: and she being asked thereof, answered, that her devo∣tion had never hitherto transported her so far, as to make any vow of virginity: and although she were infinitely pleased with the sweet retirement she enjoyed in the Court of her uncle, notwithstanding if it were his good pleasure to marry her to the King of France on this condition that he became a Chri∣stian, she would not be so indiscreet as to hinder it: Upon this answer of the Princess the Deputies of both Nations there present gave a loud applause, and cried out the marriage was concluded The King himself dissembling his passion forced a smile, and well saw it was high time to forgo what he could hold no longer. He disposed of her train very poor∣ly, as a man naturally covetous, saying, His neece was too fair for him to give her so many rich at∣tyres: That the rose was sufficiently beautified with its leaves, and the sun with his rays; and that all humane arts arrived not to the perfections of nature. Aurelianus did not with much earnestness insist here∣upon, so much he feared least the disposition of this man might change, and he invent some new tricks to hinder their departure. But he resolved instantly to carry this Princess away. The uncle seeing her upon her journey, began much to flatter her which he had never done before, saying:

Go too neece, I well perceive, that notwithstand∣ing your devotions, you are of the humour of other women, and affect glory. You are weary to abide with an uncle, you will have a husband, and needs must he be a King. Proceed I shall not be against it, let every one settle their affections where they may expect their felicity. Good daughter, you see how much I endeavour to content you, and how it be∣ing in my power to hinder this marriage, which I thought to be little advantagious to my Realm▪ yet have I been willing to cause it to be confirmed in a general assembly of my States, to render your desires the more assured. This affection, which I at this present witness, sufficiently declareth, that I for a long space have entertained most sincere and hearty affections for the good of your house. For that which passed concerning your father and mo∣ther, troubled no man so much as my self, God is my record thereof. But, dear daughter, there was a necessity in it. I must obey the advise of my Coun∣col; such are the priviledges of Empires: I could not otherwise save the repose of my people, and se∣cure the lives of my subjects. Whensoever I shall fall into the like crime, I wish to be used in the same man∣ner. Behold the true cause, most dear daughter, if there yet remain in you any resentment concern∣ing this death, I suppose you are wise enough to do that herein, which the law of God ordaineth, which is to forget what is past, and not to be ungrateful for the present. If I have hitherto deteined you in my Palace very retiredly, it hath been to please your humour, which I saw had sincere inclinations to devotion; and to breed you as a child of honour, which is the portion you are to carry presently with you to your husband. My wel-beloved daughter, endeavour to love your Countrey, and to hold good correspondence with us. You submitted to my hu∣mours whilst you lived with me you now must un∣dergo those of a husband, and in complying with them shall be most potent. Forget not the fear of God, which ever hath been a faithful companion to you from your most tender years; and let us often hear good news from you,

In saying this he kissed her, and the virgin most humbly thanking him for so many remonstrances of affection, with promise to honour him all the days of her life, began to weep: which a Burgun∣dian Gentleman perceiving, who was of her train, said, that so long as he lived he would never con∣fide in the tears of woman: For were there a crea∣ture in the world which might make bone-fires of joy in her heart, it was his Mistress, who on this day was delivered from the Lions throat, to become the wife of a great King, and Queen of a vast Empire.

The fourth SECTION. The arrival of Clotilda into France, and the life which she led in the time of her wedlock.

NEver ship laden with gold so gladly arrived at the Haven, after so many tedious tempests, and a thousand disasters among Pirates at sea, as Clotilda seemed content to behold her self to tread on the ground, where she was to command, after so long a servitude suffered in a Palace, which had all her life time as it were served her for a prison.

Clodovaeus expected her at Soissons, with so great im∣patience of love, that he would have willingly haste∣ned the course of the sun, to measure it by his affecti∣ons. When he saw this most beautifull Princess, he found she surpassed all the idaeaes he conceived of her, and that her presence far prevailed above her fame. He then imbraced her most lovingly, nor could be satisfied with beholding her. For God, who was pleased to make use of this maid for the conversion of a great King, had (as it is said) varnished over the Table of this mortal beauty, and imprinted with his finger, I do not know what kind of graces and at∣tractives, which Clodovaeus never had felt before. She as an humble Abigail cast her self at the feet of a hus∣band, calling him her Lord and King, and protesting she entered into his Palace to live there as his most humble hand-maid. The Court stood wholy rapt with admiration to behold the worthy qualities of this Princess, and took part in the contentment of their King. The people ran by heaps on all sides to see ••er; and so many poor Catholicks, as were then in France, looked on her as the dawning of the day, which came to charm their cares, wipe away their tears, break their fetters, & guild the times with the luster of her Majesty. There was nothing to be seen every where, but jousts, tournamēts, sports, feasts, largesses to crown the solemnitie of these great nuptials. Notwithstand∣ing, the good Queen suffered not her self to be tran∣sported with the current of her prosperities; but that in the midst of pomps she held her eyes firmly fixed upon the many benefits she had received from God, and sought out in mind the waies she should take to testifie her gratitude, and pour her self as incense upon coals towards the divine Majesty. She had one thorn in her heart, which then entered very far therein. It was, that she saw the King spake not at all of the promise he had made to become a Christian, and that she having attempt∣ed to put him on this discourse, he subtilly declined it. She knew not in what manner to speak to him of it, nor where she might make enterance into his heart.

In the end she resolved to say unto him: Sir, I see your Majestie exerciseth at this time your liberalities to∣words all the world, and I would gladly partake therein, and receive a favour.

The King thinking she would beg a gift for a Favourite, or some other person: Ask (saith he) confi∣dently; for you must not be denied. Thereupon she re∣plied: If your Majestie bear so sincere an affection to me, as you make shew, I most humbly intreat, that on the first night of my nuptials, I enter not into the bed of a Pagan.

Clodovaeus answered: Madam, I understand what you would say, It shall be done, but it is not yet time; suffer the fruit leisurably to ripen, and then either you shall gather it, or it will fall of it self. Alas, would you now speak to me of Baptism, and all your ceremonies? Your attractives are not so faint, as to permit me to en∣tertain any other thoughts, than of you: all my devotion should be but of love, and my pietie should have no∣thing but shews; but this is not it, you desire of me. Give me time to look about me, and I will advise on the means, which I will use for the accomplishment of my promise. As for the rest, you ought not to have any scruple to lye with a Pagan husband; for your law saith, as I understand, that the unbelieving husband is sanctified by a believing wife.

The Queen doubted whether that she should intreat him to defer the nuptials at the least for some time; and deny him all conjugal company till the accomplishment of his promise; but she con∣sidered that her conscience was not interessed there∣in, and the law of God commanded her not to se∣parate her self from her Pagan husband: that if she used so much cunning, it would cause of two things one, which were either to exasperate, and put him off for ever from Christianity, or make him to under∣take a dissembled piety, which would still be said to have been besieged with importunities and allure∣ments, and consequently, would never be constant. She resolved to render him all the duties of marri∣age, and to gain him rather by the example of a good life, and her humble prayers presented on Al∣tars, than by any other way.

Clodovaeus very well liked her humour in this pro∣ceeding, and well saw she was wise; which gave him occasion to honour her much the more. He was a∣bout the age of thirty years, when he married Clotil∣da, and as a Pagan bred up in the liberty of arms, he had not spared to use many love-dalliances; but the affection she bare to this good Queen was so great, that it razed out of his heart all other love, as the ray of the sun scattereth the shadows and phan∣tasms of the night. The holy Lady perceiving the spirit of her husband already moved in hers, and that there was no need of power but example, so compo∣sed her manners in her marriage, that she made her self a perfect model of perfections, requisite for this estate.

Royal Crowns loose their lustre on heads without brains, and brows without Majesty. But this Lady made it presently appear, that although her birth had not made her worthy of a Crown, nor her good fortune had afforded it, her merit alone had been of power to make her wear the best diadem in the world. She practised in the Court of a Pagan King, a strong & vigorous devotion, which was not puffed up with outward shews and vapours, but wholy re∣plenished with wisdom. For she had a fear of God so chast, that she apprehended the least shadows of sin as death; a love so tender, that her heart was as a flaming lamp, which perpetually burned be∣fore the Sanctuary of the living God. Her faith had a bosom as large, as that of Eternity; her hope was a bow in Heaven all furnished with emeralds, which never lost its force, and her piety an eternal source of blessings.

She had made a little Oratory, as Judith, in the royal Palace, where she attended as much as time would permit to prayers and mortifications of flesh: abiding therein as in a fortunate Island, which made the sweetness of her immortal perfumes to mount up to heaven. Yet did she mannage all her actions with singular discretion, that she might not seem too au∣stere in the eyes of her Court, for fear weak souls might be diverted from Christianity, by observing in her carriage perfections transcendent above ordi∣nary capacities. But all that which most passed in a common life, was done by her, and her maids, with much purity, fervour, majesty, and constancy. It was an Angelical spectacle to see her present at Mass, and dispose her self to receive the blessed Sa∣crament, which she very often frequented, to draw grace, and strength from its source. She ho∣noured Priests, as Messengers descended from Heaven, as well to discharge her conscience, as to hold her Religion in much estimation

among Pagans. The zeal of the houses of God, which are Churches, enflamed her with so much fervour, that she had no delights more precious, than either to cause new to be raised, or to adorn those which had been erected, so far as to make them receive radiance from the works of her roy∣al hands. Her charity towards the poor was a sea, which never dryed up, and her heart so large, that all the hearts of the miserable breathed in hers. She composed and decked herself dayly before the eyes of God, putting on all virtues, as it were by nature and rich attire of Ladyes, for necessity. But the King her husband she honoured, as if she had seen the Saviour of the world walking upon the earth: and not staying alone on the body, she pene∣trated even to the center of this infidel soul, which she beheld with eyes of unspeakable compassion. She most particularly endeavoured to observe all his humours, and follow the motions of his heart, as certain flowers wait on the sun. All that which Clodovaeus affected, took presently an honoura∣ble place in the soul of Clotilda, if he delighted in arms, in dogs, in horses, she for his sake praysed arms, dogs, and horses, regarding even the ob∣jects of the honest pleasures of her husband, as her best entertainments. Her conversation was full of charms and attractives, which ever carryed profit along with them: Sometimes she sweetened the warlick humours of her husband with har∣mony of reason, sometimes she comforted him upon occasion of troubles, which might happen in the world: sometime she withheld very soberly, and with prudent modesty his spirit, which took too much liberty; sometime she repeated unto him certain precepts of wisdom, and practices of the lives of Saints, and worthy personages, that he might love our Religion; sometime she pleased him with an eloquent tongue, and an entertainment so deli∣cate, that nothing might be said more accomplish∣ed. She was magnificent and liberal towards her household servants, most exactly taking notice of the faithful services they yielded to her husband, and kept her house so well united within the bands of concord and charity, that it seemed as it were a little Temple of peace. Slander, uncleaness, idleness, impu∣dence, were from thence eternally banished: virtues, industry, and arts, found there a mansion, and the miseries of the world a safe Sanctuary: For she em∣braced all pious affairs of the Realm, and governed them with so much equality of spirit, that she resem∣bled Angels, who move the Heavens, not using in themselves the least agitation. May we not very well say, this divine woman was selected out by God to a set golden face on an entire Monarchy, by the rays of her piety?

The fifth SECTION. The prudence which the Queen used in the conversion of her husband.

THe holy Queen brought forth a King and a great Monarch to Jesus Christ, bearing per∣petually his Court, and the whole Kingdom in the entrails of her charity. She had her Centinels day and night before the Altars, who ceased not to implore the assistance for Heaven of the salvation of her husband, and she her self often in deep silence of darkness caused her weeping eye to speak to God, and adressed many vows to all the elect for the con∣version of this unbelieving soul. She very well con∣sidered, that that which oftentimes slackeneth these wavering spirits in their endeavour to find the way of eternal life, is certain interests of flesh, and bloud, certain impediments of temporal affairs, some inor∣dinate passion, which tortureth and tyrannizeth over the mind. Behold the cause why she took great care to sweeten the dispositions of her husband, calm his passions, and through a certain moral goodness fa∣cilitate unto him the way of the mysteries of our faith. This being done, she took her opportunity with the more effect, and found the King dayly di∣sposed better and better for these impressions.

He alreadie had the arrow very deep in his heart, and began to ask questions, proposing conditions, which shewed he would one day render himself. He said to Clotilda: Madam, I should not be so far alie∣nated from your Religion, were it not that I saw there∣in matters very strange, which you would have me believe by power and authotity, not giving any other reason thereof. You would have me believe, that three are but one in your Trinity, that I adore a Crucified man, and that I crucifie my self in an enforced and ceremonious life, wherein I was never bred. My dearest, had I your good inclinations, all would be easie to me: but you know, that all my life time I have been trayned up in arms. If I should to morrow receive your Baptism, which blotteth out all sins (according to your maxims) I were no sooner washed, but I should fear to plunge my self again into an infinity of occasions, which might dayly present themselves to my understanding. Then would you threat∣en me with the judgement-day, and Hell, with terrours, able to over whelm my mind. Consider whether it would not be more to the purpose, to let me persevere in my Sect, therein performing all the good I may: Can you think, that for all this I should be excluded from the mercy of God, who will save all men?

The wise Clotilda replyed thereunto: Sir, I beseeth your Majesty not to flatter your self with this specious title of mercy, for there will be none in the other world for those, who have performed it in this without profit. Now is the time, that God spareth not to stretch out his arms for your obedience; if you despise him, you will loose him without recovery. One can never do too much for eternall life; and whatsoever we suffer, Paradise may still be purchased at a good penny-worth. Alas, Sir, why do you find so many difficulties in our Religion? Think you God doth wrong in desiring to make you believe things which you cannot conceive by humane reason? It is he, who hath made the soul of man, and who ac∣commodateth all the wheels thereof, nor is there any one of them which moveth not at his pleasure. What marvel is it, if man offer the homage of his understand∣ing to God? If weakness submit to strength, littleness to greatness, the finite to the infinite, that which is nothing, to him who is an abyss of essence, goodness, wisedom, and light?

If you make a promise to any of your servants, al∣though it be unreasonable, and almost incredible, yet would you have him to believe it without reply, and that he take no other ground for this belief, but the great∣ness and infallible word of your Majesty. One man ex∣acteth faith of another, though both of them are but earth and dust: and you think the Sovereign Creatour of Heaven and earth is unjust, to make us believe that, which our bruitish senses cannot comprehend: Is this the submission and obedience we ow Eternal Truth? Why should not I believe, that three are but one, that is to say, three persons, one onely God, since I dayly find my me∣mory, understanding, and will, make but one soul? Where∣fore should we scorn to adore a Crucified man? The Cross is so far from weakening my belief, that there is not any thing which more confirmeth it. For if the Saviour of the world had come, as your Majesty, to the conquest of the universe with legions, horses, treasures, and arms, he should in my opinion retain that esteem, which great Captains hold: but when I consider that by the punish∣ment of the Cross, he hath reduced the whole world under his laws, and planted the instrument of his excessive dolours even on the top of Capitols, and the

heads of Monarchs, I affirm, that all is of God in such an affair, since there is nothing in it of man. Alas, Sir, if you have a faithful servant, who would suffer him∣self to be tormented and crucified, to make you Master of a rebellious Fort, would not you find more glory in his loyalty, than ignominy in his torments? And think you if the Eternal Wisdom having taken a humane body, and voluntarily exposed it to extream rigour to wash our offences in his bloud, and subdue the pride and curiosities of the earth to the power of Heaven, it hath done ought therein reprehensible? Have we not much more cause to adore the infinite plenty of his charities, than to dispute upon honours, which onely consist in the opinion of the world? I beseech your Majesty, figure not to your self our Religion, as an irksome and austere Law: when you have submitted to the yoak, God will afford you so much grace, that all these difficulties which you apprehend, will no more burden you, than feathers do birds. And although it should happen you after Baptism fall into some sin, which God by his grace will divert, the bloud of Jesus Christ is a fountain, which perpetu∣ally distilleth in the Sacraments of the Church to wash away all our iniquities. Sir, I fear least you too long defer to resign your self to the many advertisements which you have received from Heaven: If you weigh the favours that God hath done to your Majesty, having set a Crown on your head at the age of fifteen years, ha∣ving preserved you against so many factions, defended you from so many perils, adorned you with so much glo∣ry, honoured you with so many prosperours successes, you shall find, he hath reason to require at this time from you, what he demandeth of your by my mouth. What know you, whether he have chosen out y••••r person to make you a pattern to all other Kings, and constitute you such in France, as Constantine hath been in the Roman Empire, which will render you glorious in the memory of men, and happy in Heaven to all eternity? Verily, Sir, if you yield not your self up to my words, you ought to submit to the bloud of so many worthy Martyrs, who have already professed this faith in your Kingdom: you ought to submit to so many great Confessours, as knowing as Oracles, of as good life as Angels, who denounce truth unto you. You ought to submit to miracles, that are every day visibly done at the Sepulcher of great S. Martin, which is an incomparable treasure in your Kingdom.

Sweet-heart (answereth the King) say no more, you are too learned for me, and I fear least you should perswade me to that, which I have no desire to believe; and although you had convinced my soul to dispose it to this belief, think you it would be lawful for me so soon to make profession of your faith? You see I am King of an infinite people, and have ever at my commanda great Nobility, who acknowledge no other Gods but those of the Country. Do you believe that all spirits are so easy to be curbed, and that when I shall go about to take a strange God, will it not make them murmur, and per∣haps forge pretexts to embroil something in my King∣dom? For Religion and the State are two pieces, which mutually touch one another very near; one cannot al∣most stir the one without the other: the surest way is not to fall upon it, and to let the world pass along as our predecessours found it.

Clotilda well saw this apprehension was one of the mainest obstacles of his salvation, and she already had given good remedy thereunto, practising the dispositions of all the greatest of the Court. Behold the cause why she most stoutly replyed thereunto:

Sir, it is to apprehend fantasies, to form to your self such imaginations? You are a Prince too absolute, and too well beloved to fear these commotions, but rather much otherwise, I assure you upon mine honour, your people are already much disposed to receive our Religion; and your Nobility, which hath sufficiently understood the vanity to Idols, expecteth nought else but your example to embrace Christianity: Nay, if need were to penetrate rocks, and cut through mountains to gain success for such an enterprize, your travells would therein be very well employed, nor is it fit you fear to loose earth to purchase Heaven. But all the faci••ity is in your own hands, the grape, which you said was not yet ripe almost five years since, is now mature and it is necessary you gather it.

These words oftentimes presented upon occasions, had quickly a marvellous power over the mind of Clodovaeus, and the iron began in good earnest to wax soft in the fire. For he honoured Churches, and used Ecclesiasticks with a quite other respect than he ac∣customed, whereof he gave a most evident testimony in the business which passed with S. Remigius.

The History saith, the souldiers of Clodovaeus for ra∣ging the Countrey in their liberty of arms, had pil∣laged in the Church of Rhemes a goody and large vessel of silver to pour water into; at which the good Bishop being somewhat troubled, for the reverence he bare to all that which appertained to his Ministery, he sent his Commissaries to the King to make Complaint thereof, which was not lost. For Clodovaeus commanded them to come to Soisson, where division should be made of the booty had been taken from all parts, which was done; and they com∣ing to unfardle all these pilferies, the King, being there present in person, found the vessels, which he presently commanded to be restored to the Commis∣saries of the Church: but a souldier becoming obsti∣nate thereupon, and much displeased that so goodly a piece should escape his hand, gave a blow with a halbard upon it to cleave it asunder; which Clodovae∣us for that time dissembled, fearing to proceed to a reasonable chastisement with any passion: but after∣ward seeing this fellow much out of order, How? saith he, is there none but you that grow mutinous, and yet are the worst armed of all the troups? And saying so, he took the halbard out of his hand, and threw it to the ground; the other stooping to take it up again, felt a furious blow from the hand of the King, which bereaved him of life, in punishment of his temerity.

The Queen understanding this news, held it a good presage of his conversion, and that which much more confirmed her in this hope was, that being delivered of a goodly son, she obtained leave of the King it might be Christened; which she spec∣dily did: but the infant stayed not long after his bap∣tism, to forsake an earthly Crown, to take in Heaven a diadem of eternall glory.

Yet Clodovaeus found some slackness in his good purposes, and child the Queen, as being too vehe∣ment to dispose all the world to her own Religion, saying, this Baptism might very well have procured hurt to the health of the child; but she replyed, that life and death were in the hands of God; that this child was not so much to be lamented for having so suddenly changed from the life of a fly, to that of Angels, but that the Saviour of the world, who hol∣deth in his hand the keys of fruitfulness could bless their royal bed with a fair issue, when he thought good; and that we should not be amazed at the death of so frail a creature, nor attribute the cause thereof to Baptism, which operateth nothing but good. She knew so well how to excuse her act, that being the second time delivered of a male child, Bap∣tism was as well conferred on this as the former; af∣ter which it deceased; whereat the King offended more than ever, blamed her very sharply, saying, that he from this time forward well saw these waters of Baptism were fatall to the death of his children and that she should take heed how at any time to open her mouth to obtain of him such like liberty.

She endowed with a constant heart, and having ta∣ken very deep roots in faith, made an answer worthy of her piety, saying to her husband: Ab, how Sir? What if God hath thought me unworthy ever again to have any issue by my child-beds, were it not reason I adore

his holy Providence; and kiss the rods of his justice? I humbly beseech your Majestie not to cast upon the ba∣ptism of Christians that, which you should rather attri∣bute to my sins.

The King all enraged with choller, was so edified with this word, that from this time forward he retained it in memory with much admiration, not being able to wonder enough at the great courage and modesty of his wife.

The sixth SECTION. The Conversion of Clodovaeus.

IT is to sail without stars, and to labour with∣out the Sun (saith Origen) to think of coming to God without a particular grace of God. After so many humane speeches redoubled one up∣on another, the Holy Ghost, worker of all Con∣versions, spake with a voice of thunder to the heart of Clodovaeus in the middest of battels, and caused him to settle upon this resolution, which he had pondered the space of many years.

The occasion was, that the Suevi, a people of Germa∣nie, passed the Rhein with great forces, commanded by many Kings, who were personally in the army, and came to rush on the Gauls, with intention to destroy the beginnings of the French Monarchy. Clodovaeus, ha∣ving received news of this preparation, speedily oppo∣seth them with good troups: for he likewise had drawn together to his aid the Ribarols, people near bordering on the Rhein, who were allied to the French, and had first of all given notice of the enterprize of the Suevi, who in a near degree threatened them.

The encounter of the two armies was at Tolbial near Cullen, which verily was one of the most despe∣rate, that is found in Histories. The King undertook the conduct of the Cavalry, and had given to Prince Sigebert his kinsman, the Infantery. All of them were extreamly inflamed to shew themselves valiant in this conflict. Clodovaeus, who proceeded to lay the foundations of a great Monarchy, wherein he would have no companion, thought he must either triumph or be lost. His allies, who were interessed very far in this war, failed him not in any kind. The Almans on the other side had an extream desire to extend their conquests, and thought their fortune depended on the success of this battel. There was nothing but fire, tempests, deaths, & slaughters, so great was the resistance on either side. In the end, Sigebert valiantly fighting, was wounded with an arrow, and born all bloudy out of the battel by his son. The Infantery, through the absence of their Colonel, was defeated and put to rout. All the burden of the battel fell upon the Ca∣valrie, which did marvellous exploits, fighting before the eyes of their King: but in the end, the shock of enemies was so impetuous, that it brake through, and scattered them. Clodovaeus bare himself like a Li∣on covered with bloud and dust, among the ranks of those affrighted men, cried out with a loud and shrill voice, to rally their troups, he in the mean time fighting in his own person, and withal performing the duty both of a great Captain, and valiant soul∣dier. But notwithstanding all his endeavours, ter∣rour had so seized on these flying men, that the affair grew desperate.

And as remedies are sought from Heaven when those of the earth are of no effect, Aurelianus the great favourite of the King approching near to his Master, perswadeth him to make a vow unto God, to fulfil the promise he had made to the Queen his wife, which was, to be baptized, if he returned victorious from this battel: which he did, cal∣ling aloud upon the God of his wife, and promi∣sing an absolute conversion to the Catholick faith.

The word was no sooner spoken, but that his troups rallied themselves up, made head against their ene∣mies, pursued them, ran through, and routed them with so great a massacre, that the fields were all co∣vered with dead bodies. The discomfiture so terrified them on the other side of the Rhein, that the Almans which survived, fearing least the King puffed up with his victories, might pass the river, dispatched a speedy Embassadour unto him, to yield themselves tributa∣ries to his Majesty.

Clotilda hearing the news of this battel, and of the holy resolution of her husband, was transported with so great joy, that she went out to meet him as far as Champaigne, accompanied with the great Archbishop S. Remigius, a man whom God was pleased to make use of to crown this great work of the salvation of Clodovaeus. For besides his admirable sanctity, ac∣knowledged throughout all France, he had the re∣putation to be one of the most able and eloquent men of his time; witness Sidonius Apollinaris, who speaketh * 2.358 of his eloquence with admiration, saying, He thought there was not a man living upon the face of the earth, whom S. Remigius surpasseth not, without any elabo∣rate study at all, through the experience he had ac∣quired of well speaking. His conceptions were in∣imitable, his language so sweet and polite, that it re∣sembled a piece of ice very smooth, whereon nothing might be seen unequal. His sentences were full of weight, his arguments of force, and his words glided along like a river, and ever bare in them some flashes of lightening at the end of his periods.

So soon as the King, who was still replenished with sweet idaeaes of his victory, saw the Queen his wife, It is now Madame (saith he) that you have gained: Clodovaeus triumpheth over the Almans, and you tri∣umph over Clodovaeus. The deed is done, my Baptism must no longer be deferred. The Queen infinitely comforted with this word, answereth: Sir, To the great God of Hosts is due the glorie of these two tri∣umphs; and your Majestie doth most wisely to render him with the first opportunitie what you have vowed. That man giveth doubly, who affordeth readily. Be∣hold one of the greatest Prelats of your Kingdom, whom I have brought along to serve your Majestie in an affair of such importance.

Thereupon Saint Remigius was presented, whom the King most honourably entertained, and signified he much desired to be rectified by his good instru∣ctions: whereat the holy man exceedingly rejoycing for the good which he hoped to derive from thence, made him on the day assigned a Sermon of the knowledge of God, and of the glory of Christia∣nity, against the vanity of Idols, so ravishing, that it transported the King, and all his Court, who ceased not afterward to confine himself to the lips of Saint Remigius; as to a stream of living waters. It is true that S. Vedaestus, who was afterward Bishop * 2.359 of Arras, had already begun to catechize Clodovaeus: but as these holy men pretended nothing but the in∣terests of God, not having regard to any thing which touched their own persons, he most willingly gave way to the dignity of an Arch-bishop, and to the great ability of a man accounted as an Oracle, contenting himself to assist S. Remigius, and to con∣tribute in this action all which his ministery and ser∣vice might afford.

This King going to Rhemes disposed himself reli∣giously to receive Baptism under the direction of this Prelate, daily hearkening with singular atten∣tion unto the instructions of faith, and informing himself with much judgement in all that, which was necessary for his salvation. It is written among other * 2.360 things, that when S. Remigius came to explicate the mystery of the passion unto him, he was much mo∣ved thereat: so that transported with a generous

impatience, he put his hand to his sword, and spake aloud in anger, That had he with his French been pre∣sent in the place where this act was committed a∣gainst his Master, he would have revenged it, with the utmost ability of his forces. The holy Prelate sweetened his warlike humours, and made him capa∣ble of every mystery, using therein much endeavour and great perspicuity of discourse. After these in∣structions, they proceeded to Confession, and ordina∣ry penances, wherein the King shewed so much devo∣tion, that laying aside the purple robe and Crown, he covered himself with ashes, imploring the mercy of God in his most fervent prayers.

When the day of Baptism came, which was the Eye of Easter, Saint Remigius caused the Church of Rhemes to be excellently adorned, as the custom of those times would permit, commanding it to be hanged with the richest pieces of tapestry he could find, to be perfumed with sweet odours, and lightened with a great quantity of wax lights, com∣posed of certain perfumes, which rendered a de∣licate splendour, in such manner, that Saint Gre∣gorie of Tours saith, this place resembled a little ter∣restrial Paradise.

Some while before the Baptism, the King and Queen sitting with S. Remigius, in the Oratory of S. Peter, attended by few persons of note, behold there came on a sudden a most resplendent light, which appeared unto the eyes of all the world, with rays so sparkling, that scarcely it might be endured; and at the same instant was heard from Heaven a voice, which said, Peace be with you, fear nothing, persevere in my love. This was the time when the new Constantine set forward towards holy Baptism; where being arrived in the presence of all the world, S. Re∣migius spake to him these words: Mitis depone colla Sicamber; Adora quod incendisti, incende quod adorâsti. Bow thy neck (O French man) under the yoke of God; Adore that which you have burned, and burn what you adored.

Thereupon pronouncing his profession of faith, * 2.361 and especially that which concerned the mystery of the holy Trinitie, he was baptized, In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.

The hand of God, that is not shortened, and which being the Work-master of nature, operateth when it pleaseth him above nature, useth to honour with some great miracles, the foundations of Religion in certain places, where it is planted. Here he was plea∣sed to consecrate the Kings of France, and the whole Realm to his Majesty, to derive from hence an in∣finite number of services: and as those great Kings are the first of the Church, and the most perfect ima∣ges * 2.362 of the Divinitie among all Monarchs, especially when they declare themselves imitatours of the piety of Clodovaeus, so God was willing to renew at their consecration, the wonders he did at the Baptism of his Son, to the end the workmanship might have con∣formity with its model: for he caused a dove visibly to appear, which bare in her beak the holy Viol, filled with the unction wherewith Clodovaeus and his suc∣cessours were afterward anointed.

It is a thing so authentical, that it is rather to be reverenced than disputed: the memory thereof is still preserved in the Epitaph, set over the ashes of Clodo∣vaeus in the Church of S. Genevofue of Paris, which saith, this dove was an Angel; in S. Thomas in the se∣cond book of the institution of Princes; in Clement the fourth in his questions and so many other Authours, that it were to do a thing already done, to distend my self any further upon this subject.

Others have added, That the flower-de-Iuces * 2.363 were brought at the same time by the help of an Angel, to be set in the arms and Scutcheons of the Kings of France: but that is not well proved. I should rather believe, that the lilies were the Symbole of the Gauls, as the balm of Judea, long time before Clodovaeus: For there are yet certain medals found stamped in the time of the Emperour Ad••tan, who was little above one hundred years after our Savi∣our Christ, whereon the figure of a Gaul was to be seen, formed as an honourable Ladie, which seem∣ed to hold in her hand a flower-de-luce, offering it to the Emperour, and yielding thanks for its pre∣servation by this title, engraven on the same coyn, RESTITUTORI GALLIAE. I cannot like∣wise understand, who is that Cilurus cited by Mon∣sieur Capet, in his pleadings of Rights and Liberties, that maketh mention of a rod sprinkled with flower-deluces, which then appeared in Heaven, to witness the Kings of France should be the true defendours of the Catholick Church.

We have no want of true miracles nor need we go about to entertain ill grounded fantasies: they who desire to establish false things, gain nought else upon the credulity of humane spirits, but to make truth to be doubted.

That which I find in this Baptism most probable, is, that Clodovaeus was baptized with his children, his sisters, and more than three thousand Cavaliers, Cap∣tains, souldiers, and other Courtiers, not numbering women, and little children; and which is more, the King made an Edict so favourable for Christian Re∣ligion, that being published, it converted to the faith almost all the rest of the French Nation, in such sort, that every where there was nothing to be seen, but burning of Idols, and erecting of Altars.

The admirable Clotilda, who had so long time sigh∣ed after this most happy day, being wholly absorpt in reverence and thanksgiving rendered to God, be∣held her self crowned with so many thousands of children: and if those women of the old Testament for a slender carnal race, sung Canticles of triumph, what might this Ladie both say and do, who, after her coming into France, saw the face of a Monarchy absolutely changed, the Kingdom of God established, and so many souls arranged under the banner of our Saviour, who was pleased so powerfully to make use herein of her prayers and industrie?

The seventh SECTION. What Clodovaeus did by the perswasion of Clotilda after his Baptism.

THe holy woman daily building upon her foundations, ceased not to dispose her hus∣band to all the holy and glorious actions, which she could think on, that he might in some sort answer the favours he had received from the Di∣vine Majesty. She caused him to bend his affections to the embellishing and enriching of Churches; which he did, beginning with that of Rhemes, with so much magnificence, that S. Remigius, who was of a noble and generous courage, had much ado with himself to take all which the King was willing to give: humbly beseeching his Majesty he would apply his liberalities to other places that had more need thereof.

Thereupon he disposed himself to build the Church of the Apostles S. Peter and S. Paul, whom he ho∣noured as the Fathers of Christianity. It is now de∣licated to S. Genovefue of Paris; which the King and Queen afterward chose out for the place of their se∣pulchers.

One cannot too much glorifie this holy place, which hath been as the cradle of the piety of Clodo∣vaeus; and it is a most manifest blessing from Heaven, that it fell into the hands of that sage and religious Prelate, the Lord Cardinal of Rochefaucault, who by his zeal (a most powerfull alchymie) daily changeth

the bricks and morter into marbles and gold: and not content with dead stones, hath assembled the li∣ving in so many good Religious men, there eternal∣ly to praise the greatness of God; and of this heaven∣ly Virgin, Patroness of the place. He could not bet∣ter serve our great King, than by so preciously ho∣nouring the ashes of the first most Christian Prince, and of his holy spouse Clotilda, to tie their protection to his standards.

In the third place, the blessed woman very deeply impressed in the soul of her husband, the devotion of S. Martin, in such sort, that in all his most thorny af∣fairs he had a singular recourse to this great Apostle of France, making there many vows, and sometimes praying prostrate at his tomb, with the fervour of an incredible piety.

From whence also proceeded, that not satisfying himself with giving large donatives to his Church, he treated the whole Diocess with marvellous re∣verence; forbidding his troups when they marched upon any exploit, to take ought else in those pre∣cincts, but salt and herbs. Which was so streightly observed, that he caused a souldier to pass through the pikes, who had taken hay from a Countrey-man, saying it was herbs.

Moreover, to imitate in all eminency the piety of great Constantine, he procured a national Coun∣cel to be held at Orleans: where he witnessed much respect to the Prelates assembled in that place to de∣cide Ecclesiastical affairs, writing unto them a no∣table * 2.364 letter, by which he confirmed the rights and immunities of the Church, according to the form of ancient Canons.

In the end Pope Hormisdas, coming to succeed Sym∣machus in the holy See, Clodovaeus was the very first dispatched Embassadours unto him, with a very beau∣tifull Crown, surnamed the Realm.

It hath been a custom very ordinary in all times, to offer Jewels and Crowns to Altars, in gratefull ac∣knowledgement towards the Divine Majesty. So Constantine tendered his Diadem to the Saviour of the world, which is yet at this time to be seen hang∣ing over the Altar of Saint Sophia. So did Mauritius, so Henrie the Emperour at Clunie, who made offer to the Church of a World, all over diversified with most exquisite precious stones.

This is the cause, why the King sent this present, * 2.365 as the History expresly mentioneth, to be hanged up before the chief Altar of Saint Peter at Rome, in token of the offer he made to God of his person and estate, as the eldest Son of the Church. And he that would well consider the foundation of the Hi∣story, shall find this Diadem, called the Kingdom or Realm, was a kind of crown come from Constanti∣nople: For it is said, that the Emperour Anastasius, who sought support from the favour of the King of France, against the Goths that swayed in Italie, under∣standing the great feats of arms done by our Clodo∣vaeus, sent a solemn Embassage unto him, to congra∣tulate, and offer him the title of an honourable Con∣sul, the purple robe, and the Crown, which the Gre∣cians of this time called 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.

Clodovaeus very gladly entertained this Embassage, and shewed himself attired with those ornaments in the Church of S. Martin, where he made a largess of gold and silver: then acknowledging all these prosperities came to him from God after he was ba∣ptized, he consecrated this rich jewel, which had been presented to him by the Emperour, in the chief Church of Christendom, to serve as an eternal monu∣ment of his Religion. Behold how this illustrious Monarch began at that time to manifest the marks of his zeal, and to cement together the good intelli∣gence which France afterwards had with the Pastor and spiritual Father of the whole world.

I am bound to touch this as I pass along with all sincerity, being naturally an enemy of these questions which are many times moved with too much servour and inconsideration, in the point of contestations of the jurisdiction of Sovereign authorities. We are lear∣ned enough, when we know that Jesus Christ, who had the source of power in himself, distributed it to Popes and Kings: constituting the one for spiritual government, the other for temporal. It is his pleasure we honour the character of his authority both in the one and other, and not to argue upon fantasies. God hath set them over out heads to admire their lustes, and not to controul their power.

Amongst the follies of Nero, it is reported that one day beholding a space of land, which separated two seas, and held them in excellent order, he had a desire to cut it, that these two seas might encoun∣ter, and himself see what countenance they would carry, when they commixed together. Take you good heed (saith the Oracle unto him) otherwise they will overflow to drown you. Leave matters as God hath appointed, and confound not the limits of nature. It is true, Ecclesiastical and civil power are two great seas, God hath limited and divided them by the interposition of spiritual and temporal administration: Both exercise their functions, and live in fair peace. God preserve us from those mise∣ries, which may dis-mantle the wall, and cause them to intermingle together, so that we may behold the world in a deluge of calamities.

To what purpose is all this? The Sun doth not the work of the rain, nor the rain of the Sun. Constan∣tine * 2.366 said the Bishops were Bishops in their Churches, in that which concerneth Religion, and God had appointed him for the government of his Empire in matters temporal. Let us rest in these limits, Give we to Caesar, that which belongeth to Caesar: to God what appertaineth to God. We have better learned to live than dispute, and our Ancestours have pre∣served a Monarchy so flourishing, the space of twelve hundred years, not with disputations and unprofita∣ble wranglings, but with the arms of wisdom, obe∣dience, and courage.

We have always rendered to the Pope the honour * 2.367 he deserveth, as to the Sovereign Pastour of the Uni∣versal Church which is under Heaven. We have con∣fessed, and do acknowledge the King true and abso∣lute Monarch in the government of temporal things, singularly honouring him, and with most cordial af∣fections loving him, as an animated pourtraictute of the greatness of the Divine Majesty. God thereupon maketh us to prosper and tast by experience, that there is no science more noble than obedience, nor any fe∣licity, but the accomplishment of the will of the so∣vereign Master. On the contrary, it is observed in the History of so many Ages, that the wounds from Heaven have on all sides fallen upon those, who have sought to cast the apple of discord into the house of God: The wind blown from their mouthe•• returned on their heads, since it is fit iniquity should first kill it self with its own poison.

The eighth SECTION. The good success which God gave to Clodo∣vaeus after he became a Christian.

CLodovaeus was no sooner become a Christian, but that it seemed God had tied to his arms some secret virtue, which made him triumph over his enemies, and crown all his enterprizes with most glorious successes.

The first war he undertook after his Baptism, was against Gombaut King of Burgundie, of whom we have very amply spoken heretofore. I much wonder

at certain Authours, who measuring the affections of Saints, with the weaknesses of their own spirits, and esteeming it a sweet glory to be revenged upon enemies, from whom some notable injuries are re∣ceived, have said, that Clotilda excited her husband to the ruin of her uncle, to derive an account from him of the death of her father and mother. This is too inferiour a conceit of a Lady, who was arrived to so high a degree of perfection: nay, it was so much other∣wise, that she should enkindle the fire of this war, that Gombaut being in the full possession of Clodovaeus to bereave him of life, she withheld the fatal blow, & af∣terwards seeing he by his ill deportment had lost his Kingdom, she did all that possibly she might to pre∣serve a part thereof for Sigismund, son of Gombaut her cousin-germane.

That which first of all ruined this unhappy King * 2.368 of Burgundie, was his heresie, which drew upon him the vengeance of God: for it being often preached unto him, and he convinced by reasons, offering himself in private to become a Catholick, yet still retained Arianism in publick. Behold the cause, why he having divided his heart, God divided his Kingdom.

The second cause of his ruin was his nature, cruel and covetous, which rendered him uncivil, and an enemy of all order. He sent his Neece as it were in anger to Clodovaeus, giving her not any thing in marriage, but many complements: Whereupon the King making sundry remonstrances, and afterwards complaints, he neglecting both the one and the other, and answering the Embassadours, sent to treat with him very perversely, he resolved to make war upon him.

Adde hereunto, that having already put two of his brothers to death, he tyrannized over the third, who to get shelter from the tempest, had recourse to the King of France, who was no whit displeased to take this occasion to possess himself of the King∣dom of Burgundie, which he saw to be very fit for him. Gombaut having learned that▪ Clodovaeus arm∣ed in good earnest against him, would needs flatter his brother, whom he had before much exasperated, to win him to his party: but he playing the fox against a fox, having given him fair promises, turned his back towards him, and yielded to the French with all his troups.

The Burgundian affrighted, fled, and cast himself upon the Rhosne, until such time that he was shut up in Avignon, where Clodovaeus desperately pursued him, pressed him, and thrust him upon extremities: so that the least word of Queen Clotilda, had been sufficient to take away his life. But the King contain∣ed himself both for the respect he bare to his wife, whom he well knew not to be delighted with the bloud of her allies, and for the discretion which Ar∣redius a Counsellour of Gombaut used toward him. The vanquished King yielded to all the conditions proposed by the Conquerour, so far as to become tri∣butary to France.

Afterwards the troups of Clodovaeus being retired, this man full of gall and bitterness against Godegisilus his brother, who had levied arms against him, besieged him in Vienna, contrary to all promises made to Clo∣dovaeus, and having surprized him, slew him in the Church with his own hand: which was an act so barbarous, and onely worthy of a man abandoned of all sense of Religion. This cruelty was the cause that Clodovaeus returning back again, entered into Burgun∣die, and possessed himself thereof, to punish the exor∣bitances of a man, who was as outragious to offend those who might hurt him, as unable to resist the ju∣stice of arms raised against him.

There remained nothing for him in this shipwrack, but an ignominious and miserable life, which God oftentimes inflicteth for punishment of brother-slay∣ers, as he did to Cain; which he finally ended in A∣rianism. The holy Clotilda (as I said before) taking pitie of the issue of this wicked father, employed all her endeavours to preserve for Sigismund the title of King, and some competent remainders of a fortune, horribly dis-membered by the evil mannage of this Prince, blinded with errour and impiety.

From thence, Clodovaeus transferred his arms in∣to Aquitaine, where he had business enough to deal with Alaricus King of the Visigoths. But as I un∣dertook not in this Treatise to enlarge upon the wars of Clodovaeus, nor on his singular valour, but as it may be considered to correspond with the piety he received from Clotilda, I remit the Reader to the * 2.369 History of France: contenting my self to observe two or three passages of the Divine Providence over King Clodovaeus in this war. The first was, that having resolved to turn his arms against this Goth, who drew into his Territories all the enemies of France, and who was an Arian heretick, most in∣humanely used the Catholicks, which were in his power; he endeavouring to decline this blow, used many wiles to surprize his adversary, and murther him if he could, under colour of emparlance and amity. Clodovaeus notwithstanding, shielded by the powerfull hand of God, was delivered from his pra∣ctises, and although the other was supported by King Theodorick, who was his father-in-law, his coun∣trey-man, and leagued with other Kings, our brave Monarch replenished with the confidence he had in the cause of God, as one who intended to cut off the root of the Arian heresie, which budded forth in France, couragiously marched in the face of the enemy, and with so much speed prevented him, that he rather seemed to have the conduct of an army of eagles than souldiers.

A second testimony of the faithful love of Heaven, appeared in wonders, which served for a presage of the near approching victory. The one was, that the King, according to his customary piety, having appointed some men of purpose to offer up his vows at the feet of Saint Martin, they entering into the Church to perform their devotions, heard by good chance the Quire of Choristers, who sung out aloud this versicle of the seventeenth Psalm: Praecinxisti me Domine virtute ad bellum: supplautasti insurgen∣tes in me subtus me. Lord, thou hast engirted me with force and valour for the war: Thou hast cast under me all those, who were raised against me: which being related to the King, he thereupon conceived good success, and setting forward on his way, as he en∣tered into Poictiou, there was seen to issue out of the Church of S. Hilarie of Poictiers, a great brand of fire, like unto that flaming pillar which heretofore led the chosen people through so many dreadfull wil∣dernesses; in such sort, that it seemed this great S. Hi∣larie, who had heretofore been a light both for the East and West against hereticks, enlightened still on the top of the place, where he had been reverenced, a burning Pharos, to illuminate the conquests of a Prince, who hastened to do that with the keen sword, which he had formerly acted with the sharp dint of the tongue. In the end, coming up∣on the brink of a river swoln up, where he knew not how to find a foord, which much stopped the course of his enterprize, behold a Hinde rou∣zed with the noise of the Army, took the river in sight of the French, in a place where it was passa∣ble, and shewed them the way, who prosperously followed. The King encouraged by so many pro∣digies, encountereth with Alaricus, and gave him bat∣tel very roughly, fortune holding the victory in bal∣lance about six or seven hours, until the French, ani∣mated by the good example of their King, renewed their forces with loud out-cries, and brake with all violence through the files of the Goths. Clodovaeus, who

had the flame of a generous vigour, burning perpetu∣ally in his heart, much desired to meet with King Alaricus, when perceiving him in the middest of the conflict, he set forward to encounter him. The other already contemned by his own Goths, for having here∣tofore refused the combat, and seeing his Army in disorder, became valiant in his despair, and put on a resolution, either to vanquish his enemy, or to wash away the stains of his dishonour with his bloud. He withdrew himself from the main of his Cavalrie, and marcheth on towards Clodovaeus. The souldiers stood still on both parts at this great duel of two Kings. They came to handy strokes in the head of two Armies, and charged one another bravely, being a very long time bloudily bent to battel: but in the end Alaricus felt the thunder, which proceeding from the victorious hand of his adversary, threw him down half dead in the list of combat. Clodovaeus quickly alighted from his horse, to rid him of life; and being about to mend some defect in his cuirass, he was treacherously assaulted by two Goths: but he, having dispatched his adversary, defended himself from both these, and mounted up again on his horse, whom he made to curvet in a martial manner, de∣meaning himself so bravely in all, that he seemed to be as it were a flash of lightening, sent from the hand of God, rather than a man.

This defeat ruined the hopes of the Goths, and cut off all the designs of heresie, which subsisted not but by their favour. From thence Clodovaeus marched all covered over with laurels into the Countreys of his conquests, with so much good success, that being be∣fore the Citie of Angoulesm, which made shew of resi∣stance, the walls miraculously fell down, as did here∣tofore those of Jericho, he having, by the advise of Apronius his Chaplain, caused some holy reliques to be lifted up, whereunto he dedicated a singular de∣votion.

What need we here make mention of the adven∣tures which he had with the Kings Chararic and Rag∣vachairus, whom he defeated as it were without blows? This man went every where as confidently, as one who seemed to have a Guard of celestial Vir∣tues by his side: his hands were fatal to purge the earth from many infidel Princes, that infected it with heresie, tyrannies, and sacriledges. Who can but wonder, that in so short a time he extended his Empire from Rheine to Seine, from the river of Loy∣re to Rosne, and from the Pyrenei to the Ocean? Who can but admire, that he was so feared by all the Monarchs of his Age, as the Grecians, who have writ∣ten * 2.370 after that time under the title of King, intended for the more excellency, to speak onely of the King of France? Who will not highly esteem his great autho∣rity, in that he first of all stampt golden coyn, which the Emperours had always forborn through extream jealousie, causing the marks of his faith to be impres∣sed on this money? And who can sufficiently marvel, that having at his death left four sons to succeed him, he hath besides been followed by seven and fifty Kings, who constantly rendering themselves imita∣tours of his belief, have likewise shared with him in his felicity?

I demand of you whether one must not become blind, deaf, and dumb, not to see, understand, nor declare, that all the happiness and prosperity of France is inseparably tied to the piety of our Ance∣stours, since the hand of God, thundering and lightening at the same time upon so great a number of Diadems of heretical Kings, as of Gombaut, Go∣demar, Chilperic, Godegisilus, Alaricus, and in the end on Theodorick himself, led Clodovaeus by the hand through so many smoking ruins, so many swords, and such flames, to establish him with all his posterity in a Throne, whereunto the great Saint Remegius hath promised an eternity of years, so long as it should remain cemented with the same faith and religion, which first of all consecrated the Lilies to the service of the Divine Majesty?

The holy Clotilda, amongst all these conquests of her husband, lifted her innocent hands up to Heaven, to apply the forces of the Saviour of the world to his Royal banners. In the end, having drawn him to Paris, after so many bloudy wars, and sweetened the extravagancies of his nature, a little too violent, propending to excesses of cruelty, she caused him to tast in his repose, devotion and justice, in such sort, that having closed up his eyes in the exercises of pie∣ty, she enterred him with a most honourable reputa∣tion. * 2.371 There is yet to be found an old Calendar of the Church of S. Genovefue, which maketh mention of the day of his death, on the seven and twentieth of November.

The ninth SECTION. The life of Clotilda in her widow-hood: her afflictions and glorious death.

CLotilda vehemently desired to bring forth male children, for the establishment of her State, and though this affection seemed to be most just, notwithstanding God, who purgeth all the elect in the furnace of afflictions, found a rough Purgatory for this good soul, in the enjoying her desires. She had sons, as she wished, whom she endeavoured with all her power to breed in the fear of God, whilest she might bow them: but these children, who tasted too much of the warlike humours of the father, and had not enough of the piety of the mother, being arrived to an age wherein it was not possible any longer to restrain them, they fell into many terrible extrava∣gancies, which transfixed the heart of the mother with a thousand swords of sorrow.

It happened that Sigismund, the cousin-germain of Clotilda, for whom she had procured the Kingdom of Burgundie, after the death of his wife, by whom he had a son named Sigeritus, suffered himself to be sur∣prized with the love of a Ladie waiting in Court, whom he afterward married, to the great heart-burn∣ing of the son, who could not endure to see her clo∣thed with the spoils of his mother.

This step-dame being drawn from servitude and wantonness, to enter into the bed of a King, behold∣ing her self crossed in her loves by this Heir of the house▪ conceived so much gall and rage against him, that she prepared a most fatal calumnie for his ruin, accusing him to have a plot upon the life of his fa∣ther. Sigismund, who was of an easie nature, stir∣red up with love and ambition, quickly believed this shameless creature: and after he had called this poor young man to dinner, under colour of affection, he commanded him in his sleep to be strangled by the hands of his servants. But the miserable man, deli∣vered out of the gulf of his passion, and seeing him∣self defiled with an act so black and wicked, pub∣lickly confessed his sin, and for it performed a most austere penance: but God, who ordinarily blotteth out the crime, not forgiving the pains and satisfacti∣ons due to his justice, deprived him of Scepter and life, by the hands of his allies, raising up a sharp re∣venge, to give to such like an eternal horrour of his iniquitie.

The children of Clodovaeus, who had already sha∣red the Kingdom of their father, were not yet satisfi∣ed, but desired to advance the limits of their divi∣sion, as far as the point of their launce might extend. Behold the cause why Clodomer, who was the eldest of the legitimate, seeing the Kingdom of Burgundie in this danger, entereth thereinto with great forces,

and found little resistance; Sigismond being formerly convinced by his crime. Having possessed himself of the places most important, he took the miserable King, and led him away prisoner to Orleans; to dis∣pose of him according to his pleasure. But Godimer, the brother of Sigismund, who had retired to the mountains, while the French made all this notable havock, returned with a great power, and having slain the French Garrisons, made himself Master of the Kingdom. Clodomer understanding this defeat, became so furious, that he caused the head of his prisoner to be cut off, with his wife and children by his second marriage, commanding, through extremi∣tie of cruelty, to throw the body into a ditch, which was executed. Nor content with this, he re-enter∣eth into Burgundie boyling with choller, with inten∣tion to recover all to his obedience: but he found himself assaulted by the Burgundians in a battel, who slew him; and knowing him by his long hair, they cut off his head, and fixed it on the point of a launce, to serve for a sad spectacle to the French.

This accident afflicted the heart of the mother, who bewailed her son with inconsolable tears, as well because he was the first, whom she had bred with all tender affection, as for that she seeing him dead in the pursuit of so many bloudy acts, was full of anxiety in the matter of salvation of his soul. The poor Queen fortified her self, as much as she might, against the vio∣lences of sorrow, and armed her self against other accidents which she foresaw might grow from the evil dispositions of her children.

Clodomer left three sons very young, whom the ho∣ly woman bred up in her house, and near her person, into whom the most excellent Maxims of all wisdom and piety were distilled. These little children very well bred, and gently trained by the very good pre∣cepts of their grand-mother; promised something ex∣cellent in time to come, and served as a most sweet lenitive to this disconsolate turtle, to sweeten the acerbities she had conceived upon the death of their father: when behold a horrible frenzie crept into the souls of Childebert and Clotharius her two sons, which is read in all our histories, the brows whereof do blush to leave a blemish of execration on the wicked exor∣bitancy of ambition.

It were much fitter for the great men of the earth to have gnawing vultures, and sharp rasors in their entrails, than to nourish such a passion; which being onely puffed up with a smoke, violateth all it hath therein of right or humanity, to fatten it self with bloud, and never as it were openeth its eyes, but in the flames of the damned.

Childebert and Clotharius, sons of the great Clodo∣vaeus and the holy Clotilda, despoyling themselves of all respect, sweetness, and humanity, conceived a mor∣tal jealousie against their little Nephews, imagining their mother would breed them up to their preju∣dice; and so not taking counsel of ought but their own bruitish passion, they resolved to be rid of them. The poor children were perpetually under the wing of their good grand-mother Clotilda, who could ne∣ver suffer them out of her sight; such fear had she of ill habits, which are easily made to slide into the hearts of children by the corruption of evil compa∣nie. These infamous Uncles besought their mother to let their little Nephews come to visit them, to have thereby some harmless recreation, promising to restore them again speedily into her hands. The ho∣ly woman, who could not imagine the execrable ma∣lice, which was hatched in the hearts of these unna∣tural sons, consented these little ones should go, fear∣ing lest the denial she might make, would further ex∣asperate the suspition of the suppliants. Yet did she even then quake for fear, and bidding them farewel, kissed them with redoubled embracements, rap∣tures, and affections, not being able to contain her passion, nor the presage of her unhappiness.

The little innocents went to the slaughter with a smiling countenance, as children who have walks of recreation, and play in their heads.

When they had them in their full power, they dispatched a messenger to their mother, to bear unto her most unwelcome news. For he was commanded to shew her a poynard and a cyzars, requiring her, she would make choice, which of these she should judge fittest for her grand-children, either to pass them by the dint of sword, or forcibly to shave them and make them Monks.

Clotilda, extreamly astonished at this impudence, answered, As well dead, as Monks: which some very inconsiderately have interpreted, thinking this an∣swer proceeded from an ambition she had, that her grand-children might reign: but the admirable Prin∣cess would say, that we ought not to apply any to the service of God, but voluntaries, and that she had ra∣ther see her children well dead, than to behold them in a religious profession by constraint and force. This wretched messenger made to the humour of his Ma∣sters, in stead of sweetening the matter, made a very harsh relation of his message, which precipated the evil already beginning to fall into extremity.

Clotharius possessed with a diabolical spirit, took Thibault the eldest of these children, and striking him down to the ground, thrust his sword quite through his body. The little Guntharus, who was the second, besprinkled with the bloud of his brother, whom he saw distended on the pavement, grasped the knees of his uncle Childebert, with lamentable out-cries, say∣ing: O Uncle, save my life, wherein have I offended you? He so quaked in all the parts of his body, and so transfixed him with his sighs, that the other, though he purposed this mischief, was seized with much com∣passion, and prayed his brother to pass no further. But Clotharius enraged, and more ravenous than a Tyger of Armenia, What? (saith he) you have been of the Councel, and yet now hinder me in the execu∣tion: I will run you both through with my sword. Childebert amazed, threw the poor victim from his knees, and delivered him to the executioner, who in that very place cut his throat.

As they were upon these contestations, the third son of Clodomer, named Clodoaldus, was taken away by a friend of the father, and secretly bred up in Ecclesiastical condition, wherein he arrived to so perfect a sanctity, that forsaking the shadow of Dia∣dems and Scepters, which deceiveth the credulity of the most passionate by its illusions, he hath merited Altars on earth, and a Crown of glory in Heaven. For this is that S. Cloud which we reverence, near unto Paris.

What imagination is sufficiently powerfull to fi∣gure to its self the ardent dolours, which seized on the spirit of poor Clotilda when she heard all that pas∣sed by the practise of her unnatural sons? What might this soul think so free and purified from the contagions of the earth, which apprehended the shadow of the least sins, when she beheld her house polluted with so horrible sacriledges? Yet still she guided the helm of reason in so tempestuous a storm of passions, and in so dead a night of misery she ado∣red a ray of the Providence of God, which she con∣sidered in the depth of her sorrows: she her self no whit affrighted, took up the mangled bodies of these innocent creatures, and gathered together the scat∣tered members as well as she could, saying: Poor Children, I bewail not your death, although it cannot be too much bemoaned. You are dead like little Abels, like little Innocents, forsaking the earth, profaned with the crimes of your Uncles, to hasten to possess a place in Hea∣ven; you have out-run me, to live hereafter in the bo∣som of your grand-father. But I sorrow for these Cains, and these Herods, whose treacherously have murdered

you, and who, wheresoever they are, I assure my self do carrie pincers and executioners in their hearts. They ought at least to hear respect to the ashes of their father: They ought to have compassion on the tenderness of your bodies: They ought somewhat to regard my age, and the care I have had to breed them, since the death of the King: And had they concluded upon this massacre when they took you from my house, they should have execu∣ted you in my arms; I at the least had closed up your dying eyes with my fingers, I had wiped away the bloud from your faces, I had encouraged you to death, I had received your last sighs in my bosom. Alas, my prettie creatures! little did I think the kisses I gave you at your departure, were to be the last I should afford in your life. Pure and innocent souls, departed from these bodies in an age, wherein you were ignorant of sins, which never approched your knowledges, much less defiled your bodies! Behold from those Palaces of stars and light your afflicted mother, whom God hath as yet left on earth to give burial to your bodies.

Speaking this, she caused them to be carried away, that she might bestow them in the tomb of their grand-father, where being her self personally arri∣ved, nature evicted a huge tide of tears from her con∣stancy, and caused her to say:

My most honoured Lord and husband, who so cordial∣ly loved me in this life, will you not open unto me your sacred tomb to entertain me near you? Behold here your grand-children, which I bring unto you, little blossoms cut off in the tenderness of their age, by the hands of their uncles, your children and mine. Most dear husband, I account you thrice happie, to have been transported into the other world before you saw these lamentable trage∣dies. Were there nought but their respect towards you, it ought to have restrained them. But my sins alone have deserved this desolate old age, to which God hath reser∣ved me to make trial of the most sensible dolours which might ever fall into my imagination. I will endure them as long as it shall please the Divine Providence, who will draw this satisfaction from my sins, and I with sorrow will waste my bodie, that hath almost nothing left but the bark, to place it in short time with yours.

The holy woman daily poured her self out in tears near to this sepulchre, remaining there day and night, as if she had been some shadow of the dead: but in the end to divert her self from this imagination, which was too full of affliction, and that she might the more freely enjoy God, she resolved wholly to leave the Court, and to pass the rest of her days in the Citie of Tours, near to the sepulcher of S. Martin.

There it was where she began to lead a life whol∣ly celestial, as one who seemed to have nothing to do with the bodies and conversation of the living.

It is true, that great prosperities do not easily cor∣rupt souls, which have taken a good temper in the fear of God; yet notwithstanding they wound, and in some sort change them. A little Bee sometimes goeth so long upon her honey, that by much walking there, she entangleth her wings: So a soul, yea one of those which are the most devout, being continually soothed by a long sequel of good successes of the af∣fairs of the world, taketh some small flight out of it self, and seeketh recreation in a smiling and delicate air, which affordeth it nothing but objects of de∣light: but so soon as adversitie hath given its blow, it re-entereth into it self; it foldeth it self within it self; it tasteth it self; it knoweth it self; it findeth God in the bottom of its heart, afflicted and perplex∣ed with the revolutions of the world; it raiseth it self above the ways of the Moon, and the tracks of the Sun, to that goodly Temple of Eternity, where spi∣rits live despoiled from these masses of flesh and bones, which we drag along with us in this mortal life.

This is the way which the wise Clotilda took so soon as she was alienated from the Court, and dis∣entangled from affairs, which she never had used but for obligation of conscience; she entered into a sweet retirement, where it seemed unto her that nature had not displayed the mountains and valleys, the forrests and rivers, but to make her a theater of the works of God. She relished this retreat, as Manna from Paradise, and tasted this deep silence with incredible delight, after so many confused clamours of the em∣broylments of Court. It seemed unto her that she then spake to God face to face; and that she saw all the pride of the earth much lower than her feet. Her soul was whitened with her tears, was purified in her desires, and vapoured out all into God, as it were, through the limbeck of her ardent charity.

The holy Ladie, who had heretofore loved to be∣hold her self shine in the majesty of sumptuous attire, to render her self the more acceptable to her hus∣band, more illustrious in the eyes of her people, was clothed so modestly, that her History telleth, she was seen to be covered with course cloth. She, who here∣tofore was altogether sparkling with precious stones, appeared now in the liverie of penance. She, who had endeavoured temperately to entertain a mortal beau∣ty for the contentment of her dear husband, was wholly wasted with mortifications of the flesh. She, who after so many victories of one of the most va∣liantest husbands that ever was, had been led along triumphant in the chariot of glory, conversed now with widows and orphans, going as it were perpetu∣ally on foot, were it not that the weakness of her bo∣dy dispensed with her therein, by the counsel of those who undertook the care of her health. She, who had seen all the services of a great Monarchy at her feet, was then continually prostrate at the feet of the poor; whom she served as the living Images of God. She, who had taken some care to mannage revenues, as the sinews of State, despoiled her self as it were from things most necessary for life, to succour the necessities of the people. She, who had delighted to build goodly Palaces, had not any affection, but for Monasterics and Churches, which she caused to be erected every where, with so much liberality as her means would permit. This divine woman was as the moon in eclipse, which appeareth wholly dark on the side towards the earth, but faileth not to be most radiant on that part wherewith she looketh to∣wards Heaven. So those who beheld this Princess with carnal eyes in such a state, said she was eclipsed; but God, who in this retirement darted on her rays of glory, through the cloud of the body, caused her to see with eyes of Angels, as a soul wholly invested with the Sun of justice.

As she was in the sweetness of this repose, news came unto her very hastily, that she must return to Court, to appease the discord between her children, who were ready to encounter one another, and to embroil the Kingdom in the desperate desolations of Civil war.

The good woman did not as those, who hold re∣tirement from the vanities of the world as a punish∣ment, nor ever are with themselves, unless necessity make them take the way, which they cannot elect by reason. So soon as she understood these importuni∣ties, which called her back to the affairs of the world, she hastened to prostrate her self at the sepulcher of S. Martin, shedding forth bitter tears, and saying:

My God, you know my heart, and that it is nei∣ther for fear of pain, nor want of courage, that I re∣tired from the Court of my children; but that see∣ing their deportments and affairs in such a condi∣tion, that I could not think my self any ways able to profit them by my counsels, I made choice of the means which I thought most likely to help them, which are prayers. And behold me here now hum∣bled at the tomb of one of your great servants, to

beg of you by his merits and ashes, to pacifie the differences of these unfortunate children, and to behold with the eye of your accustomed mercies this poor people and Kingdom of France, to which you have consigned and given so many pledges of your faithfull love. My God, if you think my pre∣sence may serve to sweeten the sharpness of these spi∣rits, I will neither have consideration of my age nor health; but shall sacrifice my self in this voy∣age for the publick: but if I may be of no other use, but to stand as an unprofitable burden, as I with much reason perswade my self, I conjure you for your own goodness sake, to receive my humble prayers, and accommodate their affairs; and ever to preserve unto me the honour which I have to serve you in this retirement.

A most miraculous thing: it is observed that at the same time when the holy woman prayed at the tomb, the Arms of the brothers now ready to en∣counter to pour forth a deluge of bloud, suddenly stopped; and these two Kings not knowing by what spirit they were moved, mutually sent to each other an Embassage of peace, which was concluded in the place, to the admiration and contentment of the whole world. Thus much confirmed Clotilda in her holy resolution, wherein she lived to great decrepit∣ness of age. And in the end, having had revelation of the day of her death, she sent for her two sons, Childebert and Clotharius, whereof this, who was the most harsh, was in some sort become humble, having undergone certain penances appointed him by Pope Agapetus, to expiate many exorbitances which he had committed; for such is the most common opinion. These two Kings being come, the mother spake to them in these terms:

I was as it were resolved to pass out of the world with∣out seeing you, not for the hatred of your persons, which cannot fall into a soul such as mine, but for the horrour of your deportments, that cannot be justified but by re∣pentance. God knows, I having beheld you so many times to abandon the respect you ow to my age, and the autho∣ritie which nature gave me over your breeding, never have endeavoured to put off the heart of a mother to∣wards you, which I yet retain upon the brink of my tomb. I begged you of God before your birth, with desires which then seemed unto me reasonable, but which perhaps were too vehement, and if ever mother were passionate in the love of her children, I most sensibly felt those stings, yielding my soul as a prey to all cares, and my bodie to travels, to breed and bring you up with pains, which are not so ordinarie with Queen-mothers.

I expected from your nature some correspondence to my charitable affections, when you should arrive to the age of discretion. I imagined after the death of your fa∣ther, my most honoured Lord, that my age which began to decline, should find some comfort in your pietie. But you have done that which I will pass under silence: For it seemed to me your spirits have as much horrour of it as mine, which yet bleedeth at it, nor do I know when time will stench the bloud of a wound so bydeous.

Out alas, my children! you perswaded your selves it was a goodly matter to unpeople the world, to enlarge your power, and to violate nature, to establish your thrones with the bloud of your allies; which is a most ex∣ecrable frenzie. For I protest at this hour, wherein I go to render an account of mine actions before the living God, that I should rather wish to have brought you in∣to the world to be the vassals of peasants, than to see the Scepter in your hands, if it served you to no other use, but to authorize your crimes. Blind as you are, who behold not that the diamonds of a Royal Crown, sweat with horrour upon a head poisoned with ambition. When you shall arrive to that period wherein I am now, what will it help you to have worn purple, if having defiled it with your ordures, you must make an exchange with a habit of flames, which shall no more wear out than eternitie?

Return, my children, to the fair way you have forsa∣ken: you might have seen by what paths the Providence of God led the King your father, to the throne of his Monarchie: you might have also observed the disasters of Kings our near allies, for that they wandered from true pietie. That little shadow which you yet retain of holy Religion, hath suspended the hand of God, and with∣held the fatal blow, which he would otherwise have let fall upon your state. If you persist in evil, you will pro∣voke his justice by the contempt of his mercie. Above all, be united with a band of constant peace: for by dividing your hearts, you disunite your Kingdoms; and desi∣ring to build up your fortunes by your dissentions, you will make desolate your houses. Do justice to your poor people, who lived under the reign of your father with so much tranquilitie, and which your divisions have now covered all over with acerbities. Is it not time to forget what is past, and to begin to live then, when you must begin to die? My children, I give you the last farewel, and pray you to remember my poor soul, and to lodge my bodie in the sepulcher of the King your father, as I have ever desired.

The Saint speaking this, saw that these children, who had before been so obdurate, were wholly dis∣solved into tears, and kneeling about her bed, kissed her hands, having their speech so interrupted with sobs, they could not answer one word. Thereupon she drew the curtain over all worldly affairs, to be onely entertained with God. And her maladie dai∣ly encreasing, she pronounced aloud the profession of the Catholick faith, wherein she died; then re∣quired the Sacraments of the Eucharist and extream Unction, which were administred unto her, and by her received with infinite devotion. From thence forward she for some time onely lived on extasies of her soul, turning that little breath which remained on her lips, to the praises of God: and in the end, rendered up her happy Ghost, the third day of June, on the first hour of the night, pronouncing in the in∣stant of death these words: Ad te Domine levavi ani∣mam meam: Deus, meus in te confido non erubescam.

The History telleth, that the chamber where she died at the instant, when her soul departed out of her body, appeared very lightsom, and that her sacred members yielded forth a most sweet savour, which left to all there present a great estimation of her san∣ctity. Her body was enterred, as she desired, at the feet of S. Gevovefue: for she was so humble, that she accounted her self most happy, to submit her diadem to the ashes of a poor shepherdess. Her memory hath been so honourable throughout all France, that she is yet reverenced under the name of S. Clothe, which is the vulgar word.

O woman, truly worthy to bear a Crown of stars! gold, silver, and precious stones are too base for you. If statues should be erected suitable to your desert, Diamonds, Emeraulds, and Topases, which have been employed on the pourtraicts of the Queens of Ae∣gypt, would be of too mean a value in respect of your praises.

Oh Queens, oh Princesses, nay, oh Ladies, and Gentle-women, why do not you at the least in your houses, that which she performed in an ample King∣dom? What a glory? What an Empire? and what a triumph, to issue from the house of a King of Bur∣gundie, as an innocent lamb, a poor orphan, married for despight, and to enter into a Court full of idola∣tries, which seemed then a forrest of ravenous beasts, yet knew so well how to charm them with invincible spells of her piety, as to convert a King warlike, haughty, a Pagan, and in converting him to change the whole face of a great Monarchy?

All that which we retain of Religion, piety, and

happiness under God, we ow to this holy Queen. O France, France, my dear Countrey! how art thou bound to her memory, to her name, to her virtue, and how much oughtest thou to preserve the precious treasure of faith, which she hath so happily recom∣mended unto thee by her example!

I speak not at all now of the particular favours thou hast received from Heaven: I say nothing of thy flower-de-luces, of thy holy Viol, of thy Stan∣dard, of thy cure of the Kings Evil, and other such like. I onely mention that which thou mayest boast before the face of all Nations, nor ever shalt thou loose the glory which S. Gregorie the Great, an in∣comparable * 2.372 man, who flourished above a thousand years since, gave thee in his books, when he called thee, the lamp of the whole world, and saith, thy Mo∣narchs as much surpassed all other sovereign Princes, as Kings transcend the people.

I pronounce that, which thou mayest publish as * 2.373 a priviledge very extraordinary, that Constantine the Great made heretofore a decree, which was after∣ward engraven upon the Altar of S. Sophia, in the prime Church of Constantinople, by which he expresly forbade all his posterity, to make any alliances or mar∣riages with forreigners wheresoever under Heaven, except the French Nation: as if this Religious Mo∣narch had foreseen that they were the Kings of France who should second him in the zeal he bare to the sup∣port of the Church. See and consider the favours God hath done thee herein. Behold thy neighbours, behold the powers and sovereignties of the earth, behold the Empires and Kingdoms: where is it, that one alone may be found from the memory of men, which hath received Catholick Religion with more favour, which hath defended it with more courage, which hath preserved it with more con∣stancy? Behold the Roman Empire, and thou shalt see presently after Constantine, his sons to be Hereticks, and his son-in-law an Apostata. Behold Italie, and thou shalt see it sheltered under the protection of thy Kings. Behold Spain, and thou shalt see it over-run with Goths, Vandals, and Sarazens, and the Scepter in the hands of Arian Kings. Behold England, and thou shalt see, that it did not seriously receive the faith, till six hundred years were fully expired, after the publi∣cation of the Gospel. Poland accounteth but six hun∣dred and two and fifty years since it was Christian: Muscovia six hundred and two and twenty. Thou (O France) alone art it, to whom Jesus Christ being in the agony of his dolorous passion, when he recommended his mother to S. John, and his soul to his father, de∣signed, and miraculously deputed a Pastour, to wit, the glorious S. Denys, who received the first rays of the knowledge of God in this eclipse, which hap∣pened at the death of our Saviour, to diffuse his di∣vine lights afterward with his bloud upon the moun∣tains, where thy Virgins do as yet lead a life wholly Angelical.

O France, wherefore hast thou enlightened all the parts of the world with thy conquests? Wherefore thy Kings having communicated themselves with so much sweetness and facility, have they augmented their Majesty by familiarity with the people, which usually dissolveth it? Why have they appeared as Amathists, which shine so much the more as they are often worn? Why hast thou been a Seminary of all great spirits? Why hast thou in all times held predo∣minance in learning and sciences, like unto the Al∣tar of the Sun, from whence light is borrowed to illuminate all other lamps? Why dost thou astonish all histories with the continuance of thy Monarchy, to which there is none to be found comparable in the world? Why hath God so many times enriched thee by thy losses, enobled thee by thy disasters, raised thee by thy ruins and precipices,—Fecit{que} cadendo, Ne caderes? Is it not for having preserved this precious jewel of Clotilda, this faith, this Religion, which he hath con∣signed to thy Kings, and to thy people? Oh blind, if thou knowest it not! Oh insensible, if thou neg∣lectest it! Oh unfortunate, if thou loosest it! Go yet, and see the ashes of this good Princess, which are in thy capital Citie, ashes worthy to be kissed of Queens, honoured by Kings, and reverenced by all people.

So long as there shall be Sacrifices and Altars, An∣gels and men, the name of holy Clotilda shall live, and spread it self with a sweet odour through all the Pro∣vinces of Christendom; and my pen, which taketh its flight much further than my design intended, shall be the messenger of her greatness, with so much the more fidelity, as it hath confidence in her protection.

I will also, to crown this work, represent unto you a Lady, issued of her bloud, a grand-child of one of her sons, who hath done in Spain, that which this in France; converting her husband to the faith, and by consequence gained the Nation.

The tenth SECTION. INDEGONDIS, Issued from the bloud and house of Clotilda, transporteth the Catholick faith in∣to Spain.

ABout the year five hundred four-score and three, Levigildus an Arian Prince, reigned in Spain, who seeing the house of France held su∣pereminency amongst all the Kingdoms of the world, sought the alliance thereof; and obtained for wife to his eldest son, called Hermingildus, the daughter of Sigebert, grand-child of Clotilda, named in Hi∣story Indegondis.

She was one of the most accomplished Princesses of that Age, in whom beauty, grace, and virtue, made together an admirable harmony, to purchase her the hearts of all the world. Every one lamented that this bright day-break, which began to enlighten France with its rays, went at her rising into a Countrey, where the Sun setteth, and that so many singular per∣fections were separated from that Kingdom which had given them birth. The good virgin, who had no other object, but the obedience she ought to render those to whom nature had subjected her, went well pleased, besides was something satisfied with the title of a Queen, which she might justly one day expect. But little knew she the combats and difficulties that waited on her in the same place, where she hoped to gather nothing else but flowers.

I do not think hell can ever produce a mischief like unto heresie: which wholly perverting good affairs, instantly hasteneth to drench all the content∣ments of this innocent soul in a deluge of tears. Alas, a million of tortures well deserve to be em∣ployed upon the criminal souls of those, who were the first authours of this monster. For it in all Ages hath disturbed States of Princes, ruined so much ge∣nerous Nobility, and sowed division among the most settled amities.

The wise of that time much apprehended the send∣ing of this young maid into Spain, to marry her to an heretical Prince, to place her in a Court wholly infected with heresie, where no other objects should be presented unto her, but errour and vice. Behold (said they) a goodly vessel well rigged, well furnished, well guided, which hath sails of linnen, cordage of purple, and oars of silver; but they go about to expose it to a rough tempest. Behold an excellent mea∣dow all enamelled with most delicious beauties of nature; but they endeavour to oppose it to

cruel Northern blasts. Behold a chrystal well po∣lished, smooth, and delicate; but they seek to hazard it to the strokes of the hammer. Behold a statue all resplendent with gold, and precious stones; but they trample it under foot. What will a child be able to do amongst so much malice? An age so tender, a∣mongst so many heads grown hoary in sin? A great simplicity amongst so many snares? A maid which hath no recommendation but chastity and obedience, amongst so many wicked commands? Do we think that a father-in-law, a husband, a mother-in-law, will have no power over her spirit? That pleasures will not allure her? That the dignity of a Kingdom will not move her? That the lustre of a Diadem will not dazle her eyes, and force prevail upon her? If that should be given her which she deserveth, it were fit to afford her all but the power to ruin her self.

Others said very temperately, that we must not be∣lieve, that by gaining a Kingdom she should loose re∣ligion: that she was of bloud so illustrious, it recei∣ved no blemish; that she would rather die than dis∣honour her birth; that she would endure all the tor∣ments of Martyrs rather than betray her faith. And that if needs she must make ship-wrack of all her for∣tunes, that the last plank she would embrace, should be a good conscience: that she should be assisted by a good Councel, that would never forsake her: that there were as yet in Spain very many Catholicks, whose tears she would wipe away, and sweeten their acerbities: That her husband, a young Prince, was not so obdurate, but that she might hope one day to joyn him to the Catholick faith: Women are infinite∣ly powerful, when they once have gained the heart of a man. In the end, that she must reflect on the example of her grand-mother, who had converted her hus∣band, with all his Court; and if then cold and ti∣morous considerations had been used upon this mar∣riage, France might still have been Pagan. If the mo∣ther overcame an Idolater, the daughter may well prevail on an Arian.

Yet they, which spake thus, judged not the conver∣sion of hereticks to be much more difficult than that of Pagans, as well for the intolerable pride which ordinarily possesseth their spirits, as for a certain ma∣lediction, which seemeth to be tied to those who vo∣luntarily withdraw themselves from the light, and shake off the yoke of lawfull powers.

Yet notwithstanding considerations of State trans∣ported her, and Indegondis would take her fortune, promising her self so much assistance of God, that not onely she should stand firm in the piety of her Ancestours, but that if it were possible, she would save her husband: supposing to her self he was neither of marble nor iron, not to be mollified with the attra∣ctives of her sex.

The couragious maid was waited on into Spain, by a flourishing conduct of French Nobility, where she was received with very great applauses, for the repu∣tation which the name of France had acquired in the opinion of all people.

The King Levigildus her father-in-law, was marri∣ed upon second Nuptials to an Arian wife, named Goizintha, who was as deformed of body as mind: notwithstanding, she had charmed the heart of this old man, by I know not what kind of sleights, that she held predominance upon affairs, and bent as it were all his wills at her pleasure.

She shewed in the beginning an extraordinary af∣fection to this marriage, and went in person to the Princess, giving her such fair entertainment, that it seemed she went about to over-whelm her with courtesies.

Yet was it to behold night and Aurora in one and the same Chariot, to see these two Princesses toge∣ther. For Goizintha, besides other deformities of her person, was become blind of one eye: and Indegon∣dis laying aside so many excellent parts, which she had from nature, appeared on that day in her attaires▪ like unto those Goddesses which the Poets and Painters form, according to the most advantagious idaeaes of their spirits.

Hermingildus her husband beholding her so ac∣complished, easily felt the glances shot from her eyes, were rays from her, but arrows for his heart, from whence he could receive nought but honour∣able wounds. Never any man bound himself to a creature of the world with a love so forcible, so ho∣nest, and so innocent, as did this Prince to this admi∣rable virgin. From the first arrival, and first glance of the eye; he felt his soul transported with a sweet violence, and it seemed unto him this stranger came to negotiate with him a love, much different from that of flesh and bloud.

It is a position, which hath been sufficiently ar∣gued by ancient Sages, touching the encounter of amities, which are so diversly applied to objects; sometimes by ordinary ways, as by a manifest refle∣ction of beauty and goodness; sometimes also by passages altogether extraordinary, in such sort, that it is very hard to divine from whence the knot grow∣eth, which tieth two persons who never have seen one another, so suddenly, that it is done in an in∣stant, and so inseparably, that it lasteth even to the tomb. Some have said it proceedeth from secret in∣fluences of the same stars, which predominate at their births; a matter, which they verily have much ado to make good. Others have thought it is a work of fortune, and that loves were shuffled to∣gether like cards, to marry sometimes a Queen to a Groom. Others have referred it to complexions of the body, and to resemblance, which useth to be the mother of affections, a thing very probable. Others to the qualities of humours, which is daily sufficiently found.

But besides this, there is a certain secret touch, as in the adamant, not to us throughly known, which rea∣dily striketh its blow, and speaketh in a dumb lan∣guage in the bottom of hearts. For my part, I should think that in this love which Hermingildus bare to Indegondis, there should be some very particular pas∣sage of the Providence of God, who was pleased constantly to bind his heart to her, whom he intend∣ed to make use of for his conversion.

The eleventh SECTION. The persecutions of Indegondis.

NEver Nuptials were more full of content, nor amities more faithfull, nor beginning more prosperous, than were these: But there is ever in humane things some mischief, which sticketh on the most smiling felicities, and never giveth wine but with a mixture of dregs.

I know not what kind of fantasie possessed this wicked step-mother Goizintha, but she became jealous of the chast contentments of her son-in-law, altoge∣ther as it were besotted of this admirable Princess, whom he could not endure out of his fight. She ob∣served their conversation, their discourses, their plea∣sures, and ever put her self athwart their designs, be∣coming as troublesom, as if she had been one of those malign spirits which use to possess men.

Indegondis, although she passionately loved her husband, durst not refuse the flattering entertain∣ment of this step-mother, nor shew that she dista∣sted the company of her sex, to seek after a man: but the Prince extreamly repined hereat, and could not dissemble the jealousie of his step-mother, saying,

She ought to be contented with the credit she had in affairs, not to prie so narrowly into his marriage, and by her importunities take from him his dearest spouse. The other let him understand, this frequent conversation & amity offered her, tended to no other end, but to convert her to her Religion, thereby to render her the more obsequious to his will. And ve∣rily she well witnessed this design was deeply engra∣ven in her heart: For she neither spared endeavour nor subtile practice to seduce this innocent Princess, first waging war against her in the shape of a Dra∣gon, afterward of a Lion.

She told her with much cunning, that God might as well be served in one Religion as in another. That we ought to accommodate our selves to the place, where Fortune hath ranked us: That it was the chief∣est policie of a Kingdom, to satisfie the will and inclinations of the King: That she was not come in∣to Spain to give Law but example of obedience: That her husband never could faithfully love her, whilest she entertained any other sense, other laws, and other Sacraments, than himself: That never could she be a Queen of people, if she embraced not the faith of the people over whom she was to command: That it was a folly to fear the reproches of France, where the wi∣sest would ever think she had done discreetly, to sub∣mit to the times: That if the same faults are pardon∣able in those▪ who in erring, authorize themselves with a multitude of great complices, no man could argue her justly of a verity, which she had entertained with a whole Kingdom.

The wicked woman ceased not to afflict the in∣nocent ears of this young Princess with such like words; but she who had not herein a pliant and yielding spirit, protested, that if she persisted to main∣tain these discourses, it would enforce her to for∣sake her company, and that it was not needfull to use so many subtilities; for sooner should her heart be torn out of her belly, than her Religion from her soul. In saying this, she went out of her cham∣ber, shewing unto her an eye sweetly discontented, with a soul well resolved: with which the other of∣fended, notwithstanding dissembled her anger, so much she feared to disturb her; but quickly afterward endeavouring to make this breach up again, she ten∣dered her a thousand protestations of affection, and ceased not to tyre her out with flatteries, whereat the poor Indegondis was much perplexed, and could not any longer handle the matter so as not to express her disdain.

Notwithstanding Goizintha, who lost not hope to seduce her, attempted once again to get her to be ba∣ptized after the Arian manner, alledging a thou∣sand reasons; whereunto the Princess answered ve∣ry wisely: That she was (thanks be to God) well chri∣stened in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Ho∣ly Ghost, and that if the water of the Baptism of the Arians had been cast on her head, although she loved her hair as well as any woman of her sort, she would cut it off, and tear away the skin, which had been defiled with such an execration.

The step-mother hearing these words, shifted away, and said all foaming with choller, That since she would not be baptized after the Arian manner, she would prepare another kind of Baptism for her, which would wash her from the head to the foot: And thereupon enraged, she put her self upon a pra∣ctice wholly barbarous, which is related by S. Gregorie the Great, and many others; to wit, that after she had dregged this poor Princess by the hair, and torment∣ed her even to the effusion of some bloud, she caused her to be taken by two or three of her waiting wo∣men, commanding them to strip her stark naked, then to bind her with cords by the arms, and in this po∣sture plunge her in a pool, in a very cold season of the year.

It was a pitiful spectacle to behold the daughter of a king thus cruelly used in the same place where she en∣tered with so many triumphs. The impious Goizintha stood upon the brink of the pool, as she, who bare sway in this torture, & commanded her wicked ser∣vants to drench her in the water, not all at once, but by little and little, that she might endure the longer Martyrdom. At every moment the mischievous Queen cried out: Say you are an Arian, and you are safe. The holy maid, who had not so much appre∣hension of death, as of her nakedness, answered aloud: I am a Catholick, A Catholick I will die: Take away my life in this confession; neither fire nor water shall ever have so much force upon me, as to make me unsay it. She was a long time in this torment with a con∣stancy, which amazed this bloudy soul, that so tortu∣red her. In the end, she again took her garments, go∣ing out of the water, as from an Amphitheater of her glorious battel.

The twelfth SECTION. The retreat of Hermingildus, and his Conversion.

HErmingildus who knew nothing of what had passed, beholding her somewhat pase, and weakened with such harsh usage, asked her if she felt any pain of body, or affliction of mind, to dis∣colour her so much more than ordinary; but the wise Princess replied, It was nothing, and that there was not any thing so important, as to be worthy of his knowledge.

He, who well perceived that she by her discretion dissembled some great affront, enquired very curi∣ously of those who might inform him, and some∣what too soon discovered the cruel disgrace, which his mother-in-law Goizintha had put upon his wife. This transfixed him with a dolour so sensible, and so enkindled him with fire and choller in his heart, that if the fear of God, and the sweetness of his wife had not served for a counterpoize to his passion, he had torn this wicked Queen in pieces. But the good Indegondis prostrating her self at his feet, besought him by all that which was most noble in him, not to precipita••e the matter into such extremities, and pre∣vailed so well with her natural eloquence, that he was contented to remove presently from the Court, and retire to Sevil, which his father had given him for his lively-hood.

Then was the time, when those chast loves, which had been crossed by the disturbances of Goizintha, all obstacles being overcome, enlarged themselves as a river, which having broken his banks, poureth it self with a victorious current in the wideness of his channel. Hermingildus could not sufficiently satisfie himself to behold so many virtues in so great a beau∣ty: the modesty, which she had witnessed in this last disgrace, gave him apprehensions of her piety above all may be said.

Those, who seek nothing in marriage but sensual pleasure, which is more thin than smoke, and much lighter than the wind, cannot imagine how much these fair amities, which are the daughters of vir∣tues, nourish holy delights. These are celestial fires, which are ever in the bosom of God, as in their sphere: It is he, who begetteth them, and breedeth them, they being not constrained to descend upon earth, to beg a caytiff nourishment from perishable creatures, which promise so many wonders, and pro∣duce nought but wind.

These two great souls beheld one another with the eyes of the dove, and were mutually enflamed with affections so honest and innocent, that Angels

would not be ashamed to entertain the like fires, since they are those of charity, which is the eternal fur∣nace of all souls the most purified.

Indegondis perceiving she had already great power in the affection of her husband, and that there was no longer any step-mother to dissolve her designs, sollicited him seriously for his Conversion, and said:

Sir, I must confess unto you, the honour I have received from your alliance seemeth not accom∣plished, whilest I behold between us a wall of divi∣sion, which separateth us in belief and Sacraments. Since our amities are come to that point, as to en∣joy all in common, and that they unite things most different, why should we divide God, who is most simple of nature? Why should we make two Re∣ligions and two Altars, since we now live in such manner, that we have but one table, one heart, and one bed?

Verily, Sir, if I saw the least ray of truth in the Sect you profess, and some hope of salvation, I would submit thereunto, the more to oblige me to your person, which I love above all the things in the world. But it is most undoubted, that you are ill rectified, that you pursue a fantasie in stead of a verity, and that dying in this state, you loose a soul so noble, which I would purchase with expence of my bloud. I boast not to be learned, as you Arians, who have so many goodly allegations of Scripture, that you make the ignorant believe God is all that which to your selves you imagine.

Sir, I for my part think the chief wisdom in mat∣ter of religion, is, not to be so wise as you are, and to have a little more submission of spirit; for faith is the inheritance of the humble, and never doth the day of God shine in a soul, which hath too much light of man. You well see this heresie of the Ari∣ans is a revolted Band, which hath forsaken the high way, to wander cross the fields: you are not ignorant, that this Arius was a wicked Priest, who raised an heresie for despight, that he was not made Bishop; and was rejected, and solemnly condemn∣ed in a Councel of three hundred and eighteen Bishops. These men were wise enough for you and me; I fix my self upon their resolutions, I follow the generality of the Church, I adhere to the bo∣dy of the tree, and you tie your selves to a rotten branch. I have no argument more strong, than the succession of lawfull Pastours, than the conformi∣ty of the Universal Church, than the succession of all Ages, than the wisdom, sanctity, and piety, which I see resplendent on our side.

Besides, I come from a Countrey where we have seen all the Arian Kings our neighbours round a∣bout, to have had most unhappy ends: when in the mean time my great grand-father, King Clodovaeus, for having sincerely embraced Catholick Religion, received so many blessings from Heaven, that he seemed to have good hap and victories under his pay. I am not the daughter of a Prophet, nor do I vaunt to have the spirit of prophesie; but I dare well foretel, the Kingdom of Spain, shall not be of long continuance, unless it vomit out this pesti∣lence of Arianism, which lies about the heart of it: I would to God, with expence of my life, I might establish my Religion, then should I account my self the most contented Queen of the world.

Hermingildus knew not what to answer to the strength of truth and love, two the most powerfull things in the world; onely he said it was a business which well deserved to be pondered, and that these changes in persons of his quality are subject to much censure, if they have not great reason for caution. The good Princess to give him full leisure to advise thereupon, handled the matter so by her industrie, that he conferred with S. Leander, who was a strong pillar of the Catholick faith in Spain. The sage Pre∣late so well mannaged the spirit of this Prince, that with assistance of God, and the good offices of Inde∣gondis, who moved Heaven and earth for this con∣version, he drew him from errour. This brave cou∣rage so soon as he saw the ray of truth, needs would acknowledge and freely confess it, taking the Chrism of Catholicks with pomp and solemnity, even to the giving a largess of golden coyns, which he purposely caused to be stamped a little too sudden∣ly, making his own image to be engraven thereon, with a motto; which said, Haereticum hominem devita: that is to say, we must avoid an Heretick; alluding to his father Levigildus.

Disputation, which concerneth the estate of Prin∣ces is a ticklish piece; where the most part of those who speak of it, use their own interest for text, and their passion for Commentary. Silence and peace, which are the two mansions of a good conscience, are of much more worth, than all the questions which enkindle divisions. I think the best doctrine is that, which best knoweth how to cement up concord a∣mong Miters, Diadems, and Crowns, entertain the obedience of people towards their Sovereigns, and if there be verities, which are the daughters of the abyss, and silence (as those Ancients said) to leave them in the house of their father and mother, where, though they nought avail, they shall ever be better lodged than in publick.

It is not vice, but the times, which divideth Saints, and every one thinketh an affair probable, which he hath taken upon the byass of his own understanding. S. Leander approved the separation of Hermingildus in Spain: S. Gregorie of Towers blamed it in France. I enter not into all the considerations of them both, but I think this Prince took ways too violent in his beginnings, levying arms against his father, which were not according to the counsel of his wife; and I will have no other Authour, but himself, since he condemned his own design, so soon as he began to become holy.

The thirteenth SECTION. The reciprocal Letters of the father and the son, upon their separation.

HErmingildus, extreamly incensed at the affront which he received in the person most dear un∣to him in the world, and who wanted not a Nobility round about him, that enkindled the fire of choller, burst forth in the beginning with violence. The father, an old suspitious man, felt himself much displeased with this alteration, and the step-mother ceased not to throw flames through her throat, and crie al-arm as loud as she could, to transport affairs instantly, unto the utmost point of severity.

Levigildus notwithstanding, before he would pro∣ceed to extremities, sought to do something by let∣ters, which are found couched in the History: where∣in this Prince flattereth his son with fair words to surprize him. Behold here the copy of them:

SON, I would willingly say that unto you present, which I cannot sufficiently express in my Letters. If you have as much confidence in me, as I yet have love to∣wards you, I verily think were you with me, and aliena∣ted from the evil counsels of those who abuse the facilitie of your excellent nature, I might do much upon your spirit, both as a father, and as a King; so that at the least if you fear my Scepter, you would love my charitie, which still openeth its arms to your obedience. I have bred you up from your tender infancie, to make you heir of my Crown; and since you arrived to full age, I have con∣ferred

so many benefits on you, that they have surmount∣ed your hopes, and as it were drained my liberalities. I have put a Scepter into your hand, to serve your father with the more authoritie, and not to deliver it over to mine enemy. I have caused you to be stiled a King, to become a support to my Crown, and not a Lord over mine Empire. I have given you all, to repose my old age upon the hope of your dutie, and not to afflict me.

And yet notwithstanding, after I have done all this, beyond custom, beyond your age, and above your merit, you pay me with impietie and ingratitude. Expect yet a little, and the law of nature will give you that which you seek by ambition. Alledge not Religion unto me to justi∣fie your arms, it hath been a crime in you to take a Reli∣gion contrary to my commands; and an impietie in your Religion, to separate your self from my obedience. I counsel you as a friend, and command you as a father, to render your self as soon as possibly you may at my Court, and set your self in the way of dutie; otherwise I fear you may implore mercie, when there will be no other King∣dom found for you, but that of justice.

Hermingildus deliberated upon the answer he was to make to these Letters: but his Councel too fer∣vent, shewed him, it was now no time to retire back; that he had to do with a man imperious and tur∣bulent, a mother-in-law irreconciliable, who had no other aim but to ruin him: and that if he took not arms to defend his own life, he would be cha∣sed away like a beast, and should not find safety even in deserts. Behold the cause why he wrote back in this manner:

Sir, I give thanks to my Religion, which hath alrea∣dy afforded me patience enough to bear the sharpness of your words, and which is more, resolution also not to be shaken with the severitie of your menaces. I have ever freely protested, that I am tied unto you with immortal obligations, and am besides ready prest to acknowledge them, even to my last breath, were it not that some now endeavour with you, to render all my duties un∣just, and my thoughts criminal. Your Majestie should quickly see me by your sides, if she, who will not behold me at your feet, but in the quality of a Delinquent, had not pre-occupated your heart and ears, to stop up the one to charitie, the other to justice.

What assurance can I have of my life in a place, where she for whom I live, hath been dragged by the hair, and trampled under foot? The wound sticketh so sen∣sibly upon me, that time can neither find a lenitive, nor reason a remedie.

As for the change of Religion made by me, I go along with the main current of wisdom, and sanctitie of the whole world, and where I find my salvation most assured, I cannot live with more authoritie, nor die with more hope; and if you condemn me for it, your Majestie shall know, that a father requireth obedience out of the limits of nature, when he exacteth it beyond conscience. Sir, I beseech you to adde to so many benefits by you afforded me, the liberty of an honest repose, lest our arms may be as shamefull for the Conquerour, as mi∣serable to the vanquished.

Levigildus was more exasperated upon these Let∣ters, and the wicked Step-mother ceased not to rub the sore as much as she might. All designs tended to war: the father upon the one side maketh great levies of souldiers; the son fortifieth Sevil and Cor∣dova, and draweth to his party some Forces of the Empire, having sent an honourable Embassy to the Emperour of Constantinople, which was at that time Tyberius, to intreat great succours. Acts of hosti∣lity were practised both by the one and other part, and in the end Hermingildus is besieged in Sevil, where he made his abode the space of two or three years after his departure from the Court. King Le∣vigildus, who was an old fox, endeavoured then to entertain the Catholicks with much sweetness, to divert them from his sons side, and gaineth by force of money many mercenaries, who well discovered they had no other faith, but that which their fortune would give them.

The fourteenth SECTION. The Treaty of peace between Levigildus and his son, by the mediation of Indegondis.

THe war was yet like to continue very long, had it not been that the Princess, weary to behold these calamities that took beginning from an affront which she had endeavoured to dis∣semble with so much prudence, besought her hus∣band with great tenderness of tears, to reconcile himself to his father. He touched at that instant with a quite other spirit than he had hitherto felt, prostra∣ted himself before the Altar, and protested before God, that he abandoned all the justice of his cause for the onely considerations of piety, and would rather die than prosecute those dissentions any fur∣ther, to the prejudice of charity. He went out wholly changed upon this her motion, and coming to his wife, said unto her: Madame, behold me re∣solved to seek out the King my father, since you so desire it. But I must needs tell you, that having for∣gotten my self in this resolution, I cannot neglect you. The unworthie usage which you have received at Court, requireth you return not thither but in triumph. Ne∣ver will I admit that you undergo hazard, by exposing you to the mercie of a woman, which perhaps hath none either for you or me. You know the affairs of France are at this time in so great confusion, that you cannot hope there for any retrait to asswage your griefs. We have here a Prince, the Emperour Tyberius, who is our allie, in whose protection I advise you to put your self, to pass into Africa, and from thence to Constantinople, if it happen that I be otherwise entreated, than your hopes import.

At these words the poor Indegondis selt her self seized with a great trembling, and wept bitterly, not being able to answer one word. The Prince, seeing he had proceeded too far in afflicting her so faithfull heart, sweetened his discourse, and said: Dear heart, why do you trouble your self at my departure? I hope the affairs will run in a way so prosperous, that in two or three days, we shall see one another at Court; but that which I have spoken, is said, taking all accidents at the worst, to provide the better for your safetie.

They had during their abode here, a little son, which yet hung at the breast: the father taking it in his arms, said: Madame, Behold a most precious pledge of our marriage, which I recommend unto you. Let God dispose of it as shall best please him, but you must breed it up as a King. The mother beholding the infant, redoubled her sighs, and the poor Hermin∣gildus not knowing what would follow, felt him∣self surprized with a heavy and stupid dolour, which made him break off his discourse: yet notwithstand∣ing he failed not to treat with the Emperours Lieu∣tenant, to put all that which was most dear unto him into safeguard. But when the fatal day of separation came, these two hearts so united, felt such violent convulsions of grief, as if they then had foreseen the events which afterward succeeded, and that this fare∣wel should be their last.

Indegondis at her parting, cried out: Sir, whatso∣ever happen, loose not the treasure of your faith. My good Mistress, replied the Prince, assure your self you have gained a disciple, who shall never dishonour you: be you merry, I will expect you at Court.

Alas, what is our life, and the affairs of man! That which is past is nothing, the present a fantasie, and the future an abyss, where even those who stand

on the brink, see not anything. These two great souls, which it seemed were worthy to live an Age to ma∣nure their faithfull loves, and possess Empires as per∣petual inheritances of their merits, go about to be di∣vided for ever with a separation, which would be judged hydeous and pitifull, were it not that she hath brought forth a Kingdom to Religion. Some time after that Indegondis was retired, Levigildus under∣standing his son disposed himself to some compositi∣on, conceived much joy thereat: for he feared lest he might be enforced to give battel, wherein he had per∣haps found what a man may do, thrust into despair. So soon as he saw some overture of peace, he dispatch∣ed his son Recaredus, who was in the Army with him, to gain his elder brother, well knowing they were both of humours very consonant.

When the younger entred into Hermingildus camp, and had espied him, hestopped suddenly, and cried out: Oh my brother, before I embrace, I desire to know whether I come to a friend or an enemie. But the good brother, without making him any other answer, set forward, and most lovingly embraced him in the sight of the whole Army.

The other sighing, Ah brother (saith be) most dear brother, whither have the counsels of those transported you, who desire the ruin of our house? Behold your self here environed with armies and Legions, and behold on the other part my fa∣ther, who besiegeth you with all his army. Misera∣ble that I am! What shall I do but make between you both, a wall of my body to hinder your designs? Ah, how brother? are you upon the point to give my father battel? Oh how unhappy would the Sun be which shineth over our heads, if this day, before the setting, he should see his face defiled with the stains of our bloud! Brother, it is our Countrey a∣gainst which you arm, that stretcheth out to your obedience the same hands it lifted up to Altars for your safety. Brother, it is your father and mine a∣gainst whom you march: what honour can you get to tear out of his body by violēce a soul, which he is ready to render up to nature, & to throw it out yet alive into the flaming ruins of his Kingdom? Have you no other objects to give testimony of your valor? I beseech you, both by the Religion you have em∣braced, and the bloud common to us both, stay your arms, or if you persist in your purpose, kill me rather at your feet, and take me as a victim to purge both the armies. Behold the King, who lovingly expe∣cteth you, and who reckoneth up the moments of my Embassage; I bring you the word of full assu∣rance upon my life and honour. You must come instantly, if you dare believe me, for you cannot pro∣crastinate nor retard this affair, but you must slack∣en your own happiness.

These words were powerfull enough to transport a man, who was already resolved. Hermingildus ha∣ving assured him of the good affection he had ever born both to the King his father, and himself, went to the Court. Recaredus flieth with the desire he had to inform his father of the success of his Commission and being arrived, he bare the news of the coming of his brother, wherewith he was infinitely pleased. The Prince followed quickly after, and prostrated himself at the feet of the King his father, saying:

Sir, And my most dear father, behold here your poor Hermingildus, who will perpetually be yours, what over happen. Those, who have armed your clemency to the ruin of your bloud, have chased me from your Court and Palace; but not been able to separate me from your love. I have lived hitherto like a poor exile, and as it were a dead man among the living. If my enemies be not satisfied with my miseries, behold Sir, I stretch my hands wholly dis∣armed to the power, which nature hath given you over me, ready to live or die at your feet.

The King, whether he dissembled his passion, or whether he truly were touched with such a spectacle of piety, embraced him with much tenderness, say∣ing:

Ah my son, evil same hath depainted you much other than you are. I assure you this confidence which you have witnessed unto me, hath now set you free from all suspition. You are very welcome, most dear son, where have you left the Princess your wife? The Prince replied, She should speedily be at Court.

Goizintha faileth not to be there present, and to shew to her son-in-law all possible courtesies; which so confirmed the mind of Hermingildus, that he instantly discharged himself from all distrust, and prepared to send suddenly for Indegondis to come to the Court. A friend notwithstanding whispered him in the ear, that it was not necessary for him to hasten so much, and that he must ever fear a still sea, an old man amorous, and a step-mother too courteous.

The fifteenth SECTION. Hermingildus wickedly betrayed.

THis speech was but too true; for the pernici∣ous Goizintha foreseeing, if Hermingildus were once again fully possessed of the heart of his father, whereof there was some probability, he would not fail to revenge himself on her for the affront done to his wife, and if it were not with diligence prevent∣ed, he might discover her sleights, and disturb all her faction: She therefore called a fatal Councel, wherein she resolved to overthrow this poor Prince. She gained unto her infamous men, who poured into the ears of King Levigildus whatsoever they thought good; she suborneth witnesses, she causeth letters to be produced, and frameth a gross calumny, giving her husband to understand, that this reconciliation of his son was but a matter of disguise, the better to arrive at the scope of his intentions; that he hath sworn the ruin of his father, and that his spirit is become so ar∣rogant, he cannot endure him as a companion in the Empire; that it is a thing undoubted that all the Ro∣mans desire to lift him to the throne: That he hath practised alliance with the Emperour of Constanti∣nople, whereof express letters might be produced: and to shew this is a business already concluded, he hath delegated his wife, a cunning and turbulent spirit, in∣to Africa, to pass from thence to Constantinople, and to bring with her all the forces of the Empire, to fall upon Spain; that there was no other remedy, but with all speed to prevent his design, and to make him feel the power of despised clemency.

She spake so much both of truth and falshood and her Commissioners were so well practised to forge many suspitions, and represent a thousand accidents in affairs, which seemed to confirm this conspiracy, that in the end Levigildus entered into a frenzy more gross than had possessed him before; and having de∣clared his son guilty of treason, he caused him to be suddenly taken, and shut up in a strait prison. It was a pitifull thing to behold this Prince, a man wholly innocent, seized on in the middest of all the pleasing triumphs of the Court, which they had prepared to honour his arrival, betrayed even at that time, when he least thought thereon and used with so much cru∣elty. A matter very natural to heresie, where, after they had clothed him with sackcloth, he was so loa∣den with chains, that he became crooked, not being able at all to lift up his head.

He then well knew his hour was come, so that renouncing all the pleasures of this life, he began couragiously to prepare himself for death. The King accompanied with some Commissioners, whom he had given in charge to draw his process, would needs see him, and beholding him, suffered himself in∣stantly to be transported with great disturbances of

choller, calling him ungratefull, parricide, and wick∣ed wretch. The Prince mildly answered: Sir, could I foretel, I should know what I had done, and wherefore I am accused; but since I have no such spirit, I will die in silence. The father replied, his ill conscience suggest∣ed thereof enough unto him, and that he knew but too much what designs he had upon the State and the life of his father; that he would have him speak freely, and that if he could justifie himself in these points, he would gladly hear him.

Hermingildus at that time made the Apologie, which I have else where expressed in Latin, approch∣ing as near as I might to his own intentions and phrase, and am here ready to render it in our lan∣guage, that I may not frustrate my Reader of it.

Sir, said the Prince, the proof of my innocencie is as easie, as the defence thereof is difficult. I reposed, next after God, all my confidence in your Majestie, to choak the flame of cruel envie wherewith you see me assailed, and as it were still smoking. I attended to implore your name, to challenge your power, and to have you for wit∣ness of my fidelitie, unworthily treated by slander; and now I have you for an ardent accuser, and a most severe Judge, nay, which is more, an incensed father. You have caused me to be taken as it were from the table of a feast, by you prepared for congratulation of my return; you have made me to be despoiled of purple; to be bound, and fettered like a galley-slave. I fear lest the justification of my actions, may not be the condemnation of yours; and that in seek∣ing to defend mine own innocencie, I be not enforced to accuse the errour of my father, which is to me one of the greatest punishments I can suffer. Notwithstanding, since you command I should speak, not that, in the condition whereunto affairs are arrived, I may hope of any thing either by my discourse or silence, but hap what may, I will pour into your ears the last voice of my bloud. For did my accusers demand no other thing than my life, I would wil∣lingly give it them without reply: but seeing they go about to fasten infamie on mine ashes, I beseech your Ma∣jestie, to hear the few words I have to say.

The business here is not a new crime, it is a very long time since the Queen your wife, and our step-mother Goizintha, began to weave this web against my brother and me, to deprive your scepter of its lawfull heirs, and give your Crown as a prey to her ambition. Would to God I might now call out of the other world, the blessed sould of my dead mother, to be present at this judgement: She would speak, and I might be silent; she would remem∣ber your Majestie, how being in the agonies of that fatal hour which took from us this great Queen, she embraced my brother and me, beseeching you by your chast loves, and inviolable faith of marriage, to be unto us both fa∣ther and mother. We were then of an age, wherein we could not as yet either feel or bemoan our losses. Not∣withstanding, seeing you bowed over the bodie, which yielded up the ghost, with weeping eyes, we gave our in∣fant-tears to her memorie, as a just tribute of Nature: but you taking your little orphans into your bosom, for∣bade them to mourn, which you could hardly do, and wi∣ping away their tears, promised you hereafter would be∣come to us a father for protection, and a mother for in∣dulgence. I then grew up under your eyes, spinning out the course of my innocent years, and am come to an age capable to bear some share in your hopes. Had you any thing at that time in the world more dear unto you, than your Hermingildus? Dignities were for him, for him Empires, wars were made by him, and peace conclu∣ded in his name. Hermingildus was the object of your thoughts, the entertainment of your discourse, the con∣tentment of your heart.

Your Majestie then resolved to marrie me, although very young, you found out for me a wife, daughter of a King, sister of a King, neece of a King, but such an one as by her virtues surpassed all titles of Kingdoms. Ah poor maid, who would have said then, that thou wast re∣served to be the subject of so lamentable a Tragedie! I was reputed the most happie man of the world, since for me were born so many singular virtues and perfections, admired by all men. I must confess I loved this Prin∣cess, not so much by the ways of an ordinarie love, as a certain admiration of her virtues. For I have received the faith by her pietie, her example, and her doctrine; holding in her soul the rank of a husband, a disciple, and as it were of her own son.

Thereupon Goizintha began to possess your heart, and to gain superemtnence in your affairs; so changing your will by her ordinarie practises, that she hath turned all your ancient favours into disdain, your confidence into suspition, your resolution into disturbance, and your mud temper into command. This woman hath so perse∣cuted me, that in your Court I neither enjoyed watch∣ings, rest, recreation, nor affairs without danger. But I have willingly passed under silence all that, which touched mine own person, until she fell upon an action so barbarous, which were sufficient to justifie the Scy∣thians and Tartars. I have no words to speak it, having so much sorrow to feel it: Enough is said, when there hath been seen a daughter of so many Kings, trampled under the foot of a woman (whose birth I will not reproch, because indeed I well know it not) a Princess most inno∣cent, beaten even to bloud by a mother-in-law; a Ladie replenished with honour, disarayed of her garments by unworthie servants, and plunged by little and little into a pool in a cold season, to consummate a Martyrdom, such as the ancient Tyrants never invented more cruel for wo∣men, contenting themselves to impose oftentimes onely nakedness for a punishment.

Had I revenged my self of such inhumanitie with sword and fire, no man could have thought my proceed∣ing unjust, nor my thoughts unreasonable: notwithstand∣ing, I have still endeavoured to cure my self by the re∣medie most ordinarie with me, which was patience. I in silence retired unto a Citie which your Majestie gave me for lively-hood; resolved there peaceably to pass my days with my wife, whilest we beheld the face of this Court so adverse to our hopes.

But your Goizintha, as if we had committed a great sin, in not enduring her to thrust a sword through our throats, hath sounded an alarm in your Palace, and af∣terward in all the Province, declaring me an enemie to the countrey, an usurper of the Crown of my father, a Par∣ricide, a creature excommunicate, and adding thereunto words much more injurious against me and my wife.

For my part, Sir, I wish you had rather hearkened to our innocencie, than served her passion; all then had suc∣ceeded better. But after strange Levies were made, you came thundering upon Sevil, to besiege me with a huge Armie, so that you seemed to stir all the elements against me. I confess it, I then followed the instinct which God gi∣veth creatures, even the most bruitish, to defend their own family and fortune. I took arms, not to offend you, but to safeguard my self and my wife, against the furies of a step-mother, who makes use of all arrows for our rain.

Yet seeing my armies reduced to that point, that I had no means to escape without giving battel, which must necessarily be fatal to both parts, I renounced for your sake the laws of nature, and am come to render my self up to your discretion. I call to witness the Altars, holy fire, and the Angel-guardians, which have seen me pro∣strated before them, of the sinceritie of my intentions, and of the tears I have shed for you, having not leisure then to bemoan my self.

Afterward your Majestie sent my brother unto me, to give me assurance of your love; you called me forth, I am come, I have suppliantly intreated, you have received me. I prostrated my self at your feet, you have raised me with so many favours, and so many tokens of good will, that I could require no more for my safetie. I ask, who hath changed your affection, who hath tarnished our joys, and withered the olives of peace, but she, who being not able to

ruin me with weapon in hand, seeks to have my bloud by form of justice.

Behold my accusation and crime; behold all that which hath made me to be clothed with sackcloth, and chained with fetters ordained for Galley-salves.

The father, who was of an ardent spirit, interrupt∣eth him hereupon, and demandeth, where his wife was? whether he had not sent her into Africk, to pass from thence to Constandinople? The Prince answered, He had onely projected this in his mind, not for any other purpose, but to advise upon the safetie of her person, not knowing as then how matters would stand, and that acci∣dents had taught him, he was wise enough in his coun∣sels, but less happie than he imagined.

The King insisteth, and interrogateth, whether he had not treated alliance with the Emperour Tiberius? He thereunto replied, that he had never practised any other correspondence, but to draw from him some Troups, for the defence of his life: and that so soon as he saw some overture of peace, he had dismissed them, resolving to make no further use of them. He then was pressed upon divers questions, to which he made most pertinent answers, shewing very evidently to the miserable father, the colours and pretexts which they made use of to ruin him, unless passion should cast a film over his eyes.

In the end, seeing he could not convince his son to have practised any thing, since the accord was made between them both, he made a strong sally, and wil∣led him freely to answer one word, upon which he would ground the whole proceeding, to wit, Whe∣ther he were not a Roman Catholick? That is it, Sir, saith the Prince, which I avow, which I publish, which I pro∣test. For verily it is a crime, which maketh the Judges become pale, and the offenders laugh. The accusation whereof, is a vow all great souls should profess, and the pain is a felicitie which Martyrs have bought with their bloud. I wish to die a hundred times, if it might be done, for the glorie of that goodly title; so far is it too little, with one mouth to confess the praises of God. Command if you please, that my bodie be hewed and cut in pieces for the profession of the Catholick faith, and then I shall have as many mouthes as wounds, to praise my Sa∣viour, and all those wounds shall be as gates of bloud, to give passage to my soul to the place, where it is expected by so good companie.

The father said thereupon, he was become a fool; and that no man hated life, but he who had ill employed it. The son replied, The misuse had been in heresie, of which he repented him. And at that instant, the Guard received commandment to re-convey him to prison, where he was so comforted with the visita∣tions of God, that finding with much difficulty means to send a Letter to his dear Indegondis, he wrote to her in this manner:

The sixteenth SECTION. The Letter of Hermingildus to his dear wife Indegondis, and his generous resolution.

MY holy Mistress, from whom I have received the faith and true knowledge of God, I write these lines unto you, clothed with sackcloth, and loa∣den with fetters in the bottom of a dark dungeon, for the defence of that Religion which you have taught me. If I did not know by experience the invincible force of your heart, and the resolution you practise in affairs which concern the service of God, I had concealed my estate from you, that I might not contristrate objects sensible to nature.

But (most dear wife) you have a forehead too noble to blush at the disgrace of the Crucifix, and a courage too well fortified, to refuse taking part in the liveris of the Saviour of the world. I protest upon mine honour' I could never perswade my self, there might be content∣ment to suffer that which I tolerate, when your innocent mouth preached unto me the reward of suffering, where∣with your bodie bad heretofore been gloriously covered. But since my imprisonment, I have felt consolations of God so tastfull, that I cannot think it possible to relish in the world any other antipasts of Paradise. You are not ignorant, that my life and conversation, which hath been so long time plunged in errour and vanitie, deserved not these benefits: but your most pure hands, which you so often have lifted up before Altars for my salvation, have obtained that for me, which much transcended my merit and all my hopes.

The King my father hath been pleased to hear me, and I have pleaded my cause in fetters, with so great assi∣stance from the Heavenly goodness, that I justified my self in all charges objected against me; and have put the matter into such a condition, that I am no further accused as a thief and homicide, but as a Catholick.

I speedily expect my sentence, and do not think I am put into the state wherein I am to save my life; but I undoubtedly believe this will be the last Letter you shall receive from my hand. I earnestly beseech your loyal heart, that as in this action which shall close up my days, I intend to do nothing unworthie of you, so on your part, act nothing unworthie of me; betraying the happiness of my death with tears, which would be little honourable to the condition whereunto God hath called me. I put into the hands of the Divine Providence, both you and your little Hermingildus, the onely pledge of our holy loves.

Be couragious, my dearest love, and after my death take the way of Constantinople; to render your self at the Palace of the Emperour Tiberius, who is a good Prince, and most Catholick. I recommend unto you my poor soul: as for the bodie, let that become of it, which shall please my father. If the alteration of times and affairs bring you back into Spain, there to bold the rank you deserve, my ashes will likewise rejoyce at the odour of your virtues. I hope my death shall not be unprofitable, and that God will make use of it for the good of the Kingdom. You know how many times I have heard you say, that you would have bought the salvation thereof with your bloud; you have al∣ready in it employed one part, it is my turn to perform the rest upon a scaffold: For in what place soever you are, I promise my self to be most particularly assisted by your holy prayers.

The good Princess received this Letter, with the news of his death, as we will presently tell you: but in this space of time, R••caredus, the younger brother of Hermingildus, extreamly afflicted, that having been a mediatour of this counterfeit peace, he saw it end in so deplorable a Tragedie, hasteneth to cast himself at the feet of his father; beseeching him with infi∣nite abundance of tears and lamentations, either to give him the stroke of death with his own hand, or save the life of his brother. The father replied. He was a furious fellow, and a traitour to his fortune, and that be ought to suffer justice to be done, which would give him a Crown. That his brother well discovered himself an enemie to his father and the State, since he would not for his sake renounce onely so much as a fan∣tasie Religion; that he was onely questioned upon this point, and that if be could perswade him to reason, he was readie to save his life, Recaredus prepared himself strongly to gain him, and asketh leave to go to the Prison, which was allowed him.

The young Prince seeing his brother covered with sackcloth, and bowed under fetters, was so amazed at this spectacle, that he stood a long time mute as a statue; but in the end, breaking silence with a deep sigh: Ab brother (saith he) it is I, who

have betrayed you; it is I, who have covered you with this fatal sackcloth, I, who have bound and fettered you with these cruel chains, made for ignominious slaves, not for your innocencie. Brother, behold my poynard which I present you, revenge your self upon my guiltie head. I have been culpable enough, in that I have pro∣duced from a good intention so bad effects.

Hermingildus beholding him with a peacefull eye, answered: Brother, why do you afflict your self? Fall well do I know your innocencie. What innocencie? re∣plied the other, if unadvisedly I be the cause of your death by my disasterous Embassage? But good brother, since you are reduced to this extremitie, I beseech you forgo the name of Catholick: or, if that seem unworthie of your constancie, dissemble for some time, and content the King my father and yours, who requireth from you no other satisfaction.

The good Prince answered: Ab Brother! What have you said, you lately perswaded me to an act of pie∣tie, at the peril of my life, think not now to induce me to an impietie, although it should concern all the lives and Kingdoms of the world. Behold here the time for you to reign, and for me to die. I willingly die for the honour I ow to my Religion, for which I gladly would suffer death a thousand times, if it were possible. I nei∣ther accuse you nor my father, whom I more compassio∣nate than my self, and counsel you to render him all the duties of pietie, in the decrepitness of age whereinto he is entered.

As for our step-mother, I pray you rather to endure her nature, than revenge my death. It is the work of God to take knowledge of injuries, and for us to bear them. When my soul shall leave this miserable bodie, it shall ceaselesly pray for you; and I hope, most dear brother, you in the end will renounce this poor libertie. which entertaineth you in the sect of the Arians: and if dying men use to divine, I foretel, that being convert∣ed to the faith, you shall lay foundations of Catholick Religion in all this Kingdom, which I am about to moi∣sten with my bloud.

Recaredus used all the intreaties he could devise, ne∣ver being able to shake the constancy of his brother: which much offended King Levigildus, and trans∣ported him into resolutions very bloudy. Notwith∣standing, those who might yet speak unto him with some liberty, counselled him to precipitate nothing in an affair of so great consequence; saying, there was no apparence that Hermingildus had undertaken any plot against the life and State of his father, since he came so freely to present himself upon his bare word; that those who find themselves guilty, use not to come to burn themselves, as butter-flies at the candle. That his countenance at this interview, was too sweet, his speech too proper, his deportments too candide, to cover so black a mischief: and as for change of Sect, it was no wonder, if the King having given him a Catholick wife, he had taken that Re∣ligion with its love; that it was a complement of a lover, which age would bend, experience sweeten, and prudence in the end deface: that he had at that time more need of a Doctour than an executioner, since the apprehensions of God were distilled in the heart, by the help of tongues, not the dint of swords.

The seventeenth SECTION. The death of Hermingildus.

THe faction of Goizintha, transported beyond all considerations, ceased not to sound in the ears of the King, that Hermingildus was not an offender, whose power was to be neglected: That his crime was not such as might promise him impu∣nity; that the laws of the Countrey had never tole∣rated such practises; that he had violated right both divine and humane, becoming a fugitive from his Countrey, an Apostata in his religion, arebel to the power of his father; in such sort, that to render his wound incurable, he had changed all lenitives into poison. That he had levied arms against his Sove∣reign, without regard of his age, his name, the maje∣sty of the Kingdom, and the voice of nature, and that there was nothing but the despair of his affairs, which had taken them out of his hands. That he held cor∣respondence with the enemies of the State, to whom he was become an assistant and a companion: and now to make himself as impudent to defend a crime, as bold to execute it, had cast all the fault of his con∣spiracies upon the Queen, his mother-in-law, and the marriage of his father; shewing himself so inso∣lent in his misery, that there was nothing to be expe∣cted but tyranny from his prosperity: that it was to be extreamly arrogant, even to stupidity, to seek to retain a chymaera of piety, contrary to the will of his father: and that never would he be so constant in his superstition, if he had not leagued all the interests of his fortune with the Catholicks, enemies of the Kingdom: That if order were not taken therein, they should be hereafter deprived of the power to deliberate on it, when they had given him all the means to execute it.

The credulity of the unfortunate father was so strongly assaulted by these discourses, that he resolved to go beyond himself: so that on a night, which was Easter Eye, he dispatched a messenger to the pri∣son, with an executioner, to let him know, he was speedily to make his resolution, to choose either life and scepter, by returning to the Religion of the A∣rians, or death by persisting in the Catholick: That he had a sword and a Crown before his eyes, the one for glory, the other for punishment, the choice of either was referred to himself.

Hermingildus made answer, he had already suffi∣ciently manifested his determination upon this Arti∣cle; that he would rather die a thousand deaths, than ever separate himself from the Religion which he had embraced with all reason and full consideration. The Commissary replied: The King your Father hath given me in charge, that in case of refusal, I should pro∣ceed to execution of the sentence decreed against you. What? saith Hermingildus. He hath condemned you by express sentence, (saith the other) to have your head cut off in this same prison, where you are. Whereupon the holy man fell on his knees to the earth, and said:

My God, my Lord, I yield you immortal thanks, that having given me by the means of my father, a frail, brit∣tle, and miserable life, common unto me with flies and ants; you now afford me on this day by these sentences, a life noble, happie, glorious to all eternitie.

Then rising up again, he requested the Commissary he would by his good favour, suffer a Catholick Priest to come to him, to hear his Confession, and dispose him to death. He answered, It was expresly forbidden by the King his father: but if he would admit an Arian Bishop, he should have one at his pleasure. No (saith he) for I have detested, yea, and do still abhor Arianism, even to the death: and since my fa∣ther denieth me a favour which ordinarily is granted to the guiltie, I will die, having no other witness but mine own conscience.

Which having said, he kneeled down again, and made his confession to God, praying very long for his father, his step-mother, all his enemies, and pro∣nouncing also at his death, the name of his dear In∣degondis, to whom he professed himself bound with incomparable obligations. Then afterward having re∣commended his soul to God, under the protection of the most holy Virgin, his good Angel, and all the Saints, he stretched out his neck to the executioner, which was cut off with one blow of an ax.

So many stars as at that instant shined in Heaven in the dead silence of the night, were so many eyes o∣pen over the bloudy sacrifice of this most innocent Prince, from whom a wretched father took away, by the hand of a hang-man, the life which he gave him. Had his condition been capable of tears, even Tygers themselves would have deplored him, seeing so much piety, such faith, so much goodness, such worth eclipsed, in a bloud so precious, in an Age so flourishing, in a fortune so replenished with hope.

The news of his death hastened to find out Inde∣gondis, who was yet in Africa, where she also received the last Letter, which her husband wrote to her out of prison.

The servants that were about her person, began to make hydeous lamentations, as if they themselves had been condemned to death. But the couragious Inde∣gondis kissing the letter of her dear husband, then opening it with singular reverence, and reading the last words, which he as it were had steeped in his bloud; she cried out:

Alas! Generous, and faithfull heart! you have done all that, which a good man might: you have manfully fought, you are happily arrived at the Crown. Nothing can be desired in you, but the imitation of your constancy.

Servants, Why do you weep? This is the very day, wherein I am a Queen, and when I esteem my self the most triumphant woman in the world, having my hus∣band a Martyr in Heaven. Give me roses and flower-de-luces, that I may crown his Image, and honour at the least with these testimonies a soul, which hath left unto us such sweet odours of virtue.

She had with her, her little Hermingildus, almost dead with the wearisomness of travel on the way, which indeed had been somewhat easie for the ten∣derness of his age. The mother beholding him,

Go my son (saith she) follow your good father: God hath given you a favour in your cradle, that he doth not to all children, which is to be banished for the faith, and to take part in the Martyrdom of him who begot you. Go little innocent, and rejoyce with others before the Al∣tar of the Lamb: your mother shall not long stay be∣hind you.

The child died shortly after, and the good Prin∣cess, * 2.374 having for a long time combatted in a brave manner against the apprehensions of nature, poured forth on a sudden thick sobs, and a main tyde of tears, which distilled from her eyes against her will, whereupon she mildly said:

Alas! my tears, what fitness can you find to bemoan a Martyr? My God, it is done: the father and the son are alreadie at rest, there remaineth nothing but to take the mother. Behold two parts of the world, Europe and Africk, which I have filled with my miseries. If you will that I yet pass into Asia, your will be done. But if I no longer be ought, but an unprofitable burden to the earth, what do I here? I have spun out all the web which you gave me; I have ended all the hopes of the world; why stay you, O my God, to receive my soul, which I bear on my lips? She was heard: For in few days, being all wasted with love, travel, and desires, after an exemplar death, she found her tomb in Africk.

What shall I say here, and what shall I do, to shut up this discourse? We have all certain natural soft∣nesses in the bottom of our souls, and some humane apprehensions, which alter the force of our judge∣ment. My pen cannot almost pass over this history, and not commix the waters of mine eyes with mine ink; and perhaps also (you my Reader) cannot peruse it without compassion. It seemeth unto you these chaste loves of Hermingildus and Indegondis are too unhappy; that such virtues are cruelly handled, that such noble courages have met with a fortune sinister, hydeous, and persecutive, even to the tomb. You would gladly see these brave spirits, after so many tempests, such thunder-claps and whirle-winds, arrive at a Port of some large temporal felicity. You would behold them with Crowns on their heads, with Sce∣pters in their hands, with Provinces flourishing in re∣venues, with prosperities perpetually smiling in their house, with loves free from disturbance, desires void o•• denials, affairs without trouble, greatness without change, pleasures without acerbities, and a long po∣sterity fully laden with honours▪ It grieves you, that this poor Prince hath passed away as a pearl, parched up with lightening in its growth, or as an eagle strangled in the shell. You bewail this Princess, that being born in France, she died in Africk, separated by the sword from a husband who loved her so tender∣ly, deprived of a son, who gave so many good hopes, abandoned by all her allies▪ but some poor waiting-women that buried her with sorrow so full of pitie, that it was of power to move the monsters of Africk to commiseration. Ah ignorant that we are of the works of God, perpetually fixed to the earth, and de∣prived of those sparkles of fire and light, which burn under the most generous breasts! Let us a little draw aside the curtain, and see through so many clouds one sole ray of the Sanctuary. What injury hath the Di∣vine Providence done to Prince Hermingildus, if for a Crown, which is the weather-cock of winds, if for a Scepter, which is the reed of the times, if for a life, which is the harbinger of death, it afford him virtues, delights, and glories, which out-strip the flight of our thoughts, which drie up our mouthes, which out-run our desires, which surmount all our imaginations? What injury, if it make a Saint of him, whose name is couched in Martyrologes, whose memory liveth in writing, whose praise flourisheth in mouthes, whose words are nought but honour, and works but blessings; whilest his step-mother Goizin∣tha dies like a dog, and is buried in the opprobrie of her name? What injury, if it have so handled the matter, that his father, touched with a lively repen∣tance, hath justified him as an innocent, deplored him as a son, invoked as a Martyr? If it hath san∣ctified his setters, consecrated the tower of his pri∣son, raised up his ashes above all the Crowns of the Kings of Spain? If it hath given him Altars on earth, and a Diadem of beatitudes in Heaven? Is it to have despised his virtue, neglected his sufferings, disobli∣ged his constancy, and frustrated his travels? What would you have God to have made the virtuous In∣degondis? A Queen, delicate, ambitious, covetuous, haughty, which had not spit but in gold, walked but on roses, flown over the heads of men, and putrified in delights? How many such like are there, who have defiled their names with reproach, wearied the earth with their importunities, astonished posterity with their deportments, and peopled hell with their crimes? But this Ladie having been purified with the burning coals of tribulation, issued from the hands of God as a vessel of glory, to make her lustre resplen∣dent in the sight of all Ages.

Ah Ladies, who read this piece, and who many times flatter your selves with the title of virtue, in some petty tracks of devotion, which have nothing but outward semblance, what example of piety see you here? What mirrour? what perfection? My eyes dazle in beholding her actions, and my pen fails in writing her praises.

What a courage? that a young maid not above fif∣teen or sixteen years of age, entereth into a Kingdom with intention to conquer it for God, much other∣wise than the Caesars, who so many times have de∣voured it by ambition? What a prudence to tole∣rate the conversation of a step-mother, whilest she medled not with her Religion? What liberty of spi∣rit, and what strength of words to defend her faith, so soon as she saw her self assailed in this virtue, which was more dear unto her than the apple of her eye?

What patience to endure to be dragged along upon the pavement by the hair? to be beaten even to bloud? to be thrown into the river? to be used like the dust of the earth for the honour of J••sus Christ, not chal∣lenging any one, not complaining, not seeming offend∣ed, nay, not telling her husband (into whose bosom she poured forth her most secret thoughts) the affront she had received, for fear to break peace with a crea∣ture, who deserved the hatred of all the world? What wisdom, what grace, what eloquence used she in the conversion of her husband? What love for his soul, what zeal for his salvation, what care for his dire∣ction? What authority, to stop with a word the ar∣mies of the father and son instantly ready to encoun∣ter? What resignation of her own will in this sepa∣ration from her husband? And what a heart of dia∣mond against a thousand strokes of dolours, to take thankfully a death so bloudy, so tragical, so pitifull? To see her self at an instant bereaved of a son and a husband, and of all things in the world, offering up unto God in all her afflictions, the obedience of her heart, prayers of her lips, and victims of all the parts of her body? What triumph, when after her death, her brother-in-law, who had participated of her good instructions, in rememberance of her and her husband, was absolutely converted to the Catholick faith, and changing the whole face of the Kingdom, repealed the banished, restored the Bishops to their Sees, Re∣ligion into force, Laws into authority, and the whole Province into peace? What miracle, to see sage In∣degondis on the top of all her tropheys, whereof she tendereth homage to God in the glory of Saints? How ought we here to render to her the offerings of our most humble services?

Behold here the limits which I proposed to my self, so to give an end at last to these Histories, having thought it more fit and suitable to my employments to abbreviate my self in these four Models, than un∣boundedly enlarge them; yet it hath been somewhat difficult with me to make a resolution to put forth this second Volume, among so many duties of our ordinary functions, being thereunto sollicited by entreaties, which held as it were the place of com∣mands.

And I may well say, I were stupid and ungrate∣full, if I should not confess to have been much exci∣ted to prosecute this labour by the honourable invi∣tations, which my Lord Bishop of Bellay hath used towards me in his Works, I cannot set too high a price upon his recommendation in such a subject: For he is verily one of the most able and flourishing wits, that ever handled a pen. To see the number of his books, one might say, he began to write so soon as to live, and to consider their worth, it is a wonder, how so many graces and beauties, which other attain not but with much labour, encreased with him as in a soil natural for eloquence. If there be any slight discour∣ses, who amuse themselves to argue upon some words of his writings, it is not a matter unusual, seeing we are now in an Age, where there are some who revive the example of those corrupted Grecians, that prefer∣red a sauce made by the Cook Mithecus, before the divine Works of Phidias.

If this piece have given you any contentment, take the pains to read it over again sometimes at your leisure, tasting the Maxims therein with an utilitie worthy of its subject. For believe me, the precipi∣tation now adays used in slightly running over all sorts of books, causeth a certain indigestion in the mind, wherewith it is rather choaked than nourish∣ed. Reading is never good, if the understanding take not occasion thereby, to negotiate by medita∣tion and industrie, that which concerneth the health and ornament thereof.

1 TIM. 1.

To the King of Ages Immortal and Invisible, to GOD alone be ho∣nour and glorie given, for ever and evermore.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Aeternitas mundi ex obe∣dientiâ ad in∣telligentiam motricem. Apudi Mat∣thiam de Vi∣ennâ, qui li∣ber impressus anno 1482.
• * 1.2

  Ʋlysses Aldo∣bran. de api∣bus.
• * 1.3

  Arist. lib. 1. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Xenophon. l. 4. de factis & dictis Socratis, tribuit etiam Socrati. Strabo Geo∣graph. l. 14. Aelian. l. 14. c. 34. Var. Eus. in Chrō. Agathias hi∣stor. l. 2, &c.
• * 1.4

  Baron. ad an∣num Christi. 383. num. 6. Gratianus pri∣mus nomen Pontificis re∣spuit.
• * 1.5

  Superiora non habent coro∣nas, quia nè ventos quidem. Senec. natu∣ral. q. l. 1. c. 1.
• * 1.6

  S. Thom. 3. part. q. 30.
• * 1.7

  Isaiah 22. Figam illum paxillum in lo∣co fideli, & erit solium glo∣riae domui pa∣tris sui, & su∣spendent super cum omnem gloriam d••mus patris ejus.
• * 1.8

  Ezech. 17. Quercus Basan dolata in remos navis Tyri, di∣vites saeculi Ec∣clesiae applici∣ti. Hieron. super Ezech.
• * 1.9

  Lucian. in Jov. Trag.
• * 1.10

  Daniel. 9. 27. Act. 8. 27.
• * 1.11

  Habac. 1. Iniquitas Li∣bani operiet te.
• * 1.12

  Psal. 82. 12. Haereditate possideamus Sanctuarium Dei.
• * 1.13

  Pone illos us rotam.
• * 1.14

  Confringe•• ro∣tam super ci∣sternum. Eccl. 12.
• * 1.15

  Plutarch. in Crasso.
• * 1.16

  Daniel. 5. 15. 2 Machab. b. 3.
• * 1.17

  Baron. ad an∣num Christi. 931. Joannes 11. M••zoriae filius matre etiam tum amoribus florente. Curopalates & Baron. ad annum 926.
• * 1.18

  Fr••doardus hi∣stor. Rheme••. lib. 4. cap. 17. Monstrum, in∣quit, nunquam haitenus in or∣be Christiano visum.
• * 1.19

  Seldenus de Diis Syris. pag. 78.
• * 1.20

  Ioseph Antiq. lib. 2. cap. 5.
• * 1.21

  Epiph. de Pro∣phetis. Ennodius. Anonymus in ejus vitâ. Raderus. Crantzius l. 4.
• * 1.22

  Ezech. 28. Omnis lapis pretiosus operi∣mentum tuum, & foramina in die quâ condi∣tus es prepara∣ta sunt.
• (a) 1.23

  Greg. de Pastor. p. 2. cap. 3.
• (b) 1.24

  Mediocre nè putes quod tibi commissum est: Primùm, ut alta Dei vide∣as, quod est sa∣pientiae, Dein∣de ut excubias pro populo Dei deferas, quod est justitiae, castra defendas, taber∣nacula tucaris, quod est forti∣tudinis: Teip∣sum continen∣tem ac sobrium praestes, quod est temperantiae. Amb. de O••••ic. lib. 1.
• (c) 1.25

  Isido. Polu∣siota lib. 3. ep. 2
• (d) 1.26

  Sacerdos debet esse Chri∣sti alumnus, à peccatis segre∣gatusrector, non raptor; specula∣tor, non spicu∣lator; dispensa∣tor, non dissipa∣tor; pius in ju∣dicio, justus in consilio, devo∣tus in Choro, stabilis in Ec∣clesiâ, sobrius in mensâ, pru∣dens in letitiâ, purus in con∣scientiâ, assidu∣us in oratione, patiens in ad∣versitate, lenis in prosperitate, dives in virtu∣tibus, expedi∣tus in actibus, sapiens in ser∣mone, verax in predicatione. Alphons. Torrez.
• (e) 1.27

  S. Dionys. ep. 3. ad De∣mophilum.
• (f) 1.28

  Bern. l. 4. de consid. c. 6. Ʋbi de comita∣tu Episcopi in∣ter mitratos di∣scurrere cala∣mistratos non decet.
• (g) 1.29

  Onus per∣sonale sacrifici∣um laudis & fructus labio∣rum. Suarez. de orat. l. 4. c. 12. ex Cle∣ment. 1.
• (h) 1.30

  Seminemus hominibus ho∣num exemplum per aperta ope∣ra: Seminemus Angelis gau∣dium magnum, per occulta su∣spiria. Bern. serm. 30.
• (i) 1.31

  Occidente sole anima in totum exonera∣ta sensibus, mo∣le rerum sensi∣bilium, verita∣tem vestiget in Consistorio do∣mestico. Philo de vitâ sup∣plicum.
• (k) 1.32

  Sobriam à turbis gravita∣tem, seriam vi∣tam, singulare pondus, digni∣tas sibi vendi∣cat Sacerdota∣lis. Quomodo potest observari à populo, qui nihil habet se∣cretum à popu∣lo? Quid in t•• miretur, si sua in te recogno∣scit? Ambr. Ep. ad Iren.
• (a) 1.33

  Si habes brachium sicut Deus, & simi•••• voce tones, cir∣cunda tibi de∣corem, & in sublime erigere Job 40.
• (b) 1.34

  Meminisse oportet quia co∣lumba est in divinis Scri∣pturis Ecclesia appellata, qua non unguibus lacerat, sed alia piè percutit. Con. Aquis∣gran. Con. 134.
• (c) 1.35

  In constan∣tiâ Sacerdos si•• adamantinum signatorium: Men•• nostra si∣guram sui sem∣per custodiens characteris, u∣niversa que oc∣currerint sibi ad qualitatem sui status sig∣net at{que} trans∣formet, ipse oc∣••o insigniri nullius incur∣sibus possit. Cassian. Collat. 6. c. 12
• (d) 1.36

  Vitruvius in praefat. l. 6. Caeteri Archi∣tecti rogant & ambiunt ut ar∣chitectentur: Mihi à Praece∣ptoribus est tra∣ditum rogatum non rogantum opertere susci∣pere curam, quòd ingenuns color movetur pudore, peten∣dorum suspici∣osum.
• (e) 1.37

  Clem. Alex. strom. l. 7. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. An excellent passage of King Robert. Glab. Rudol∣phus l. 5. c. 1. Idem refert Juret. ad ep. 157. Yvonis Carn. Quidam tri∣buunt Henrico Imper.
• (g) 1.38

  Vita Cle∣men. 4. apud. Alphonsum Ciaconium.
• (h) 1.39

  Nec suos consanguineos in suâ vitâ ac morte more vulgi tractavit; quibus dum ad∣huc superesset, id, si opus fuit, quod & caeteris erogavit, non ut divitias habe∣rent, sed ut non egerent, aut mi∣mès egerent. Possidius de S. Aug.
• (i) 1.40

  Non cui propriae sunt, sed communes Ecclesiae facul∣tates. Prosper. lib. 1. de vitâ con∣templativâ cap. 6. Sacer∣dotes bonorum Ecclesiae non possessores sed dispensatores sunt. Aug. Ep. 50.
• (k) 1.41

  Mendici Dei sumus, ut cognoscat ille mendicos suos, cognoscamus nos nostros. Aug. serm. 5. de verbo Do∣mini.
• (a) 1.42

  Mundami∣ni qui fortis vasa Domini. Isaiah 52.
• (b) 1.43

  Verè conti∣nentes assiduas mulierum eti∣am probarum familiaritates fugit. S. E∣phrem. de temperantiâ. Non potest cum Deo toto corde habitare qui faminarum ac∣cessibus copula∣tur. Faemina conscientiam secum pariter habitantis ex••∣rit. Hieron. ad Nepotia∣num.
• (c) 1.44

  Faeda lupa∣naris tulit ad pulvinar odo∣rem.
• (d) 1.45

  Instrueba•• Petrus disci∣pulos, actus vi∣tae suae omni horâ custo••ire, & in omni loco Deum respice∣re, firmiter co∣gitationes ma∣las cordi suo advenientes mox ad Chri∣stum allidere. S. Clem. Ep. 1. ad Jacobum.
• (e) 1.46

  Necesse est sacerdotem sic esse purum ut in Coelo colloca∣tus inter ips••s Coeli virtutes medius staret. Chrys. de Sa∣cerdotio.
• (f) 1.47

  Convivia vitanda sunt secularium, ma∣ximè eorum qui honoribus tument. Consolatores nos pot••us maerori∣bus suis, quàm convivas pros∣peris noverint. Facile contem∣nitur Clericus, qui s••pe voca∣tus ad prandi∣um, ire non re∣cusat. Hieron. Ep. 2. Neposian.
• * 1.48

  Num. 2. Clypeus fortium ejus ignitus, viri exercitus in coccineis.
• * 1.49

  Nullum omni∣potenti Deo tale sacrifici∣um, quale est z••lus anima∣rum. Greg. super Ezech. hom. 12.
• (a) 1.50

  Discretio non est tam virtus quim quaedam mode∣ratrix & ••••ri∣ga virtutum, or∣dinatrixq••e affectuum & morum doctri••. Tolle hanc, & virtus vi••i•••• erit. Bonav ph••∣ret. l. 2. c. 27. Bern super Cantic.
• * 1.51

  Tribunali as∣censo audi••b••∣tur destin••••••••s rugien. Ammi∣an. l. 27. c. l.
• (a) 1.52

  Omnis Pon∣tifex ex homi∣nibus assumpt∣us pro homini∣bus constitui∣tur in iis quae sunt ad Deum. Hebr. 5.
• (b) 1.53

  Aristotoles lib. 4. Politic. c. 15. v••cat Magistratus. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 lumina obeliscis prae∣fix••, quod sa∣cerdotibus pro∣prium. In te oculi om∣nium dirigun∣tur: domus tua, & conversatio quasi in specu∣lo constituta, magistra est publicae disci∣plinae. S. Hier. Epist. 3.
• (c) 1.54

  Prov. 12. Circulus aure∣us in naribus suis.
• (d) 1.55

  Principa∣tus sine merito∣ris sublimitate, bonorum titu∣lus sinehomine, dignitas in in∣digne, ornamē∣tum in luto. Salvia. l. 1. ad Eccles. Cath.
• (e) 1.56

  Nescio cri∣minum an nu∣minum turbam Tert. advers. Valentinianos de eorum diis cap. 8.
• * 1.57

  Martyrol. Rom. ad 6. Januar.
• * 1.58

  Baronius.
• * 1.59

  Chron. Alex∣andr.
• * 1.60

  The Reve∣rend Father ••inet.
• * 1.61

  Greg. pastoral. curae lib. c. 4.
• (a) 1.62

  Amb. l. 1. Comment. in Lucam. cap. 1. Ʋngebatur & quasi bonus athleta exerce∣batur in utero matris, amplis∣simo enim vir∣tus certamini parabatur.
• (b) 1.63

  Hieron. ad∣versus Vigi∣lantium. Sola Gallia monstra non habuit, sed vi∣ris semper for∣tissimis & elo∣quentissimis a∣bundavit.
• (c) 1.64

  Sidonius Apol. carm. 1. Invicti per∣stantanimisque supersunt, Jam prope post ani∣mam.
• (d) 1.65

  The cra∣dle of S. Am∣brose.
• (e) 1.66

  Ambros. Epist. 65. ad Sabinum. Nobis autem quibus curae est similem serme∣nem familiari usu ad unguem distinguere, & lento quedam figere gradu, aptus videtur propriam ma∣num nostro ef∣figere stylo, &c.
• * 1.67

  Vade, age, non ut Judex, sed ut Episcopus.
• * 1.68

  The election of S. Ambrose.
• * 1.69

  Concil. Nice∣num. Can. 1. Miserum est eum fieri ••••∣gistrum qui necdum difi∣cit esse disci∣pulus. Innocentius primus ep. 12. ad Aurelium. Hieron. Ne milesantequm Tyre, ne pr••••s magister sis, quàm discip••∣lus.
• * 1.70

  Rare endow∣ments of a Prelate.
• * 1.71

  Expressa ab Hil••r. Arcl.
• * 1.72

  Epist. ad Ire∣naeum, quae est secunda libri tertii in ordi∣ne vige••ima.
• * 1.73

  The founda∣tion of an E∣piscopal life.
• (a) 1.74

  Quaeramus nobis viam in∣accessam ser∣monibus inso∣lentium, invi∣am operibus imperitorum.
• (b) 1.75

  Lib. de dignitate Sa∣cerdot. c. 5. Oculis quidem carnalibus vi∣detur quasi E∣piscopus mag∣nus, & divinis obtuitibus in∣spicitur quasi leprosus mag∣nus. Caro su∣scepit dignita∣tem, & amina per••idit hone∣statem. Caro deminatur po∣pulis, & anima servit demoni.
• (c) 1.76

  Collige de pluribus locis ••quam quam effundunt nu∣bes propheticae, ut terra tua humescat, & demesticis irri∣getur fontibus. Lib. 3. Ep. 1.
• (d) 1.77

  Constan∣tius medicus de liquidis.
• (e) 1.78

  Reforma∣tion of the Clergy.
• * 1.79

  Religious cherished by S. Ambrose.
• * 1.80

  Excellent speeches to virgins.
• (f) 1.81

  Hic tracie, alibi persua∣deo: si ita est, alibi tractemus ut vobis per∣suadeamus. L. 1 de virginibus.
• (g) 1.82

  Adest pi∣scator Bononi∣ensis, aptus ad hoc piscandi genus: Da Domine pisces qui dedisti ad∣jutores.
• (h) 1.83

  Su persti∣tions and ex∣cesses, taken away.
• (i) 1.84

  Puritie of intention.
• (k) 1.85

  Si quis so∣lus est, seipsion prae caeteris e∣rubescat.
• (l) 1.86

  Covetous∣nes opposed.
• (m) 1.87

  Multaone∣ri, moderata usui. Viatores sumus vitae hu∣jus multi an∣bulant, sedopus est ut quis benè transeat. Saj i∣enti nihil alie∣num, nisi quod virtuti incon∣gruwn. Quo∣cunque acces∣serint sua om∣nia. Totus mundus posses∣sio ejus est, quoniam eo to∣to quasi suo utitur. Ep. ad Constantium.
• (n) 1.88

  Ambition. Nihil interesse in quo statu quis se proba∣bilem praesta∣ret, sed illum esse sinem bo∣norum, ut quo∣cumque quis statu probare∣tur. Illud prae∣cipuum, ••t ma∣gis mores com∣mendarent sta∣tum, quàm sta∣tu•• mores.
• (o) 1.89

  Luxu. ••••.
• (p) 1.90

  Excess in apparel. Hinc collum catend, constring it, in∣de pedes compes includit. Nihil refert àuro cer∣pus o••eretur aut ferro, si cer∣vix premitur, si gravatur in∣cessus; nihil pretium juvat, nisi quod vos mulieres ne pe∣reat vobis poena ••repidatis. Quid interest aliena senten∣tia an vestra vos damnet? Hinc vos etiam miserabiliores quàm qui pub∣lico jure dam∣natur, quòd illi optant exui, vos ligari. Lib. 1. de Virginib.
• * 1.91

  Evident dan∣ger of Christ∣endom.
• * 1.92

  Note that he feigneth Theo∣dosius as pre∣sent, who knew nothing what had passed.
• * 1.93

  All the P••gan Senatours a∣greed not be∣fore upon this Embassage
• * 1.94

  A subtile in∣sinuation of Symmachus
• * 1.95

  Constans the son of Con∣stantine the Great.
• * 1.96

  Constans was allied to the Emperour, for which cause he speaketh wa∣rily.
• * 1.97

  Maxims of a Pagan.
• * 1.98

  He speaketh as a man ig∣norant of faith.
• * 1.99

  Subtil dis∣courses.
• * 1.100

  Dangerous maxims used afterward by Hereticks. Phil••strius de haeresibus.
• * 1.101

  Vestal virgins
• * 1.102

  Moving words.
• * 1.103

  Symmachus magnifieth the Vestals.
• * 1.104

  Famin.
• * 1.105

  He speaketh of Valentinian
• * 1.106

  It is drawn from his rea∣sons, conce∣ptions, and as it were from all his own words.
• * 1.107

  A singular refutation of Symmachus his strongest argument.
• * 1.108

  Rome speak∣eth with Ma∣jestie.
• * 1.109

  Notable an∣swers to the libertie of Symmachus.
• * 1.110

  Grave words for the Em∣perour.
• * 1.111

  A pertinent reply to the act of Vestals.
• * 1.112

  An answer concerning the death.
• * 1.113

  A reply con∣cerning the antiquity of Paganism.
• * 1.114

  Ambros. epist. 11. ad Valent.
• * 1.115

  Dicendi pal∣mam Victoria tollit amico, Transit ad Ambrosium: pl••s favet ira Deae. Ennodius.
• * 1.116

  The greatnes of S. Ambrose in this con∣version.
• * 1.117

  Exod. 31.
• * 1.118

  2. Kings 12.
• * 1.119

  Impediments in the con∣version of S. Augustine.
• * 1.120

  Curiositat re∣um efficit, non peritum. S. Zeno 2. de aeternâ Filii generation••. Curiositie & the descripti∣on thereof.
• * 1.121

  The wit of S. Augustine.
• * 1.122

  His inclina∣tions.
• * 1.123

  Astrologie.
• * 1.124

  His Religion
• * 1.125

  A second im∣pediment, Presumption.
• * 1.126

  August. I. de∣duabus ani∣mabus contra Manachaeos.
• * 1.127

  3. Impedi∣ment, The passion of love.
• * 1.128

  Salvian. l. 7. de gubernat. Tam novum est impudicum non esse Afrum, qu••m Afrum non esse Afrum.
• * 1.129

  Faustus and his qualities. Pretiosorum po¦culorum decen¦tissimus mini∣strator. Conf. 5. & 6.
• * 1.130

  Non usqueque∣qu•• imperitus erat imperitiae suae. Confes. 4. c. 7.
• * 1.131

  Hidden passa∣ges of divine providence in reclayming souls.
• * 1.132

  Notable con∣versions.
• * 1.133

  Martyrol. Rom. 16. Martii & 22. Septemb.
• * 1.134

  Joannes Aegid. de doctrina Patrum titul. Charit. num. 6
• * 1.135

  Chronic. Minorum.
• * 1.136

  The oecono∣my of God in the conversi∣on of S. Aug.
• * 1.137

  Herod. l. 2.
• * 1.138

  The qualities of S. Monica.
• * 1.139

  Aquae defluen∣tes ad Austrum generant mar∣garitas. Tarentinus Philosophus,
• (a) 1.140

  Diligebat illum virum si∣cut Angelum Dei. In Ambro∣sii ora suspen∣debatur ad fon∣tem aquae sali∣entis in vitam aeternam. Conf. 6. in c. 1.
• (b) 1.141

  In optimis notus orbiterrae.
• c 1.142

  Sermonis erat eruditio∣ris, minùs ta∣men hilares∣centis, atque mulcentis quàm Fausti.
• * 1.143

  Disturbances of mind in S. Augustine.
• * 1.144

  Confes. 6. 11. Amans beatam vitam, time∣bam illam in sede suâ.
• * 1.145

  Holy Simpli∣cianus.
• * 1.146

  Confes. l. 8. c. 5. Non erat omnino quod responderem veritate convi∣ctus, nisi tan∣tùm verba len∣ta & somno∣lenta, modò, ec∣ce modò: sed modò & modò non hahebant modum, & si∣ne paululùm, in longum ibat.
• * 1.147

  An admirable combat.
• * 1.148

  Psal. 28. Vox Domini super aquas, Deus majesta∣tis intonuit: vox Domini super aquas multas.
• * 1.149

  Rom. 13. Non in com∣messationibus & ebri••tati∣bus, non in cu∣bilibus & im∣judicitiis, non in contentione & aemulatione, sed induimini Dominum Je∣sum Christum & carnis pro∣videntiam ne ••••ceritis in con∣cupiscentiis vestris.
• (a) 1.150

  Rom. 14. Infirmum au∣tem ••n ••••ae re∣••ipite.
• * 1.151

  S. Ambrose baptized S. Augustine.
• * 1.152

  Horrori ••••ibi erat istud in∣genium.
• * 1.153

  Ingenium ni∣mis mature magnum non est vitale.
• * 1.154

  The death of S. Monica.
• (b) 1.155

  Aug. con∣tra Julianum Pelagianum. l. 1. c. 6. Excellens Dei dispensator, qu••m veneror ut patrem, in Christo enim Jesu per Evan∣gelium ipse me genuit, & eo Christi mini∣sterio lavacrum Regenerationis accepi.
• (c) 1.156

  Volusian. Epist. 2. Vir est totius gloriae capax Augustinus. In aliis sacer∣dotibus absque detrimento cul∣tus divini to∣leratur insci∣tia: at cum ad Antistitem Augustinum venitur, Legi deest, quicquid ab eo contige∣rit ignorari.
• * 1.157

  The state of Christendom.
• * 1.158

  Thood. lib. 4. cap. 6.
• * 1.159

  The death of Valentinian the father.
• * 1.160

  Gratian the son of Valen∣tinian.
• * 1.161

  Excellent qualities of the Emperour Gratian.
• * 2.1

  Apud Am∣bros. in praefat. I. de fide.
• * 2.2

  Excellent faith and mo∣destie of the Emperour.
• * 2.3

  Genes. 18.
• * 2.4

  Triumphant victory.
• * 2.5

  Affectionate words of S. Ambrose to the young Emperour.
• * 2.6

  Zeal and vir∣tue of Grati∣an by the di∣rection of ho∣ly S. Ambrose,
• * 2.7

  Singular qua∣lities of a young Prince
• * 2.8

  Admirable charity in an Emperour.
• * 2.9

  Maximus re∣belleth a∣gainst his Prince, and his wicked disposition.
• * 2.10

  Detestable hypocrisie.
• (a) 2.11

  Peri••••••••, mihi crede, di∣vina te••tan∣••••r: Insanu••, ubi error ex••∣fabilis non est, ibi velle pec∣care. Baron. an. 387. 35.
• (b) 2.12

  Rom•• Ve∣••••rabilis, en∣jus hac parte Principitat••s est. Epist. ad Siricium eod. anno sect. 65.
• * 2.13

  Virtutibus vi∣tia. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Aristot. Ori∣gen. Basil. Albertus in Paradiso ani∣mz, Prolog.
• * 2.14

  Pretext of devotion dā∣gerous.
• * 2.15

  A parable of the fowler.
• * 2.16

  Sulpitius in vita S. Mar∣tini. cap. 23.
• * 2.17

  Pitifull death of the Empe¦rour Gratian.
• * 2.18

  Socrat. lib. 5. cap. 11. Zo∣zom. lib. 7. cap. 13.
• * 2.19

  Cruentae ma∣nus vestigia, parietes tui Lugdune te∣stantur. Hie∣ron. ep. 3.
• * 2.20

  Ambros. in Psal. 61. Me∣minit Gratia∣ni, morsist•• magis est pec∣cati fuga, quàm morientis de∣trimentum.
• * 2.21

  Majestie of S. Ambrose.
• * 2.22

  Herod. lib. 4. Solem orien∣tem execran∣tur.
• * 2.23

  Sect of Ariant
• * 2.24

  Justina an A∣rian demand∣eth a Church in Milan.
• * 2.25

  Strange con∣ference pre∣tended by the Empress.
• * 2.26

  Lib. 2▪ ep. 15.
• * 2.27

  Resolution of S. Ambrose.
• * 2.28

  Genebrar. Chronic.
• * 2.29

  Strange spe∣ctacle.
• * 2.30

  Ambros. serm. 99. Prudence and Charity of S. Ambrose.
• * 2.31

  Offic. lib. 1. cap. 18.
• * 2.32

  Enterview of Theodosius & Justina.
• * 2.33

  Overthrow of Maximus.
• * 2.34

  His death. Inter innume∣ras manus fer∣tur ad mortem. Pacatus.
• * 2.35

  Arbogastus.
• * 2.36

  Manners of Valentinian. Ambrosius de obitu Valent.
• * 2.37

  S. Ambrose speaketh to the souls of his two pu∣pils.
• * 2.38

  Epist. Ambros. ad Eugenium.
• * 2.39

  Theodosius maketh the Court holy.
• * 2.40

  Remarkable pietie of The∣odosius.
• * 2.41

  Victorie of Theodosius o∣ver Eugenius. Ambros. in oratione fune∣bri Theodosii
• * 2.42

  Synagogue burned.
• * 2.43

  Ambros. epist. 17. lib. 2.
• * 2.44

  Grave words of S. Ambrose.
• * 2.45

  Massacre of Thessalonica.
• * 2.46

  Brave words of S. Ambrose to Theodosius.
• * 2.47

  Aedicula ja∣culatoria.
• * 2.48

  Psal. 118. Adhaesit pavi∣mento anima mea, vivisica me secundùm verbum tuum.
• * 2.49

  Death of S. Ambrose.
• * 2.50

  God of hosts.
• * 2.51

  Town belie∣ged by God.
• * 2.52

  The hurt of man.
• * 2.53

  Ambros. Offic. lib. 1. cap. 24. Fide primus, justitiâ preci∣puus, in praelio strenuus, in vi∣ctoriâ non ava∣rus, domi hos∣pitalis, uxori sedulus.
• * 2.54

  Warriours suns.
• * 2.55

  The greatnes and excel∣lency of a brave Cap∣tain.
• * 2.56

  The delight of history to praise Cap∣tains. Induit se lori∣câ sicut Gi∣g••s, similis fa∣ctus est leoni in operibus suis, & sicut catu∣lus leonis rugi∣entis in vena∣tione.
• (a) 2.57

  1 Mac. 13.
• (b) 2.58

  2 Reg. 23.
• * 2.59

  S. Isidorus de conflictu vi∣tiorum & vir∣tutum.
• * 2.60

  First disorder of the Nobi∣lity. Great impie∣tie.
• * 2.61

  Life bruitish and infamous
• * 2.62

  2. Disorder, The tongue blasphemy of and calumny.
• * 2.63

  3. Disorder, The abomi∣nation of du∣els.
• * 2.64

  4. Disorder, Tyranny in war.
• * 2.65

  5. Disorder, Impuritie most dissolut••
• * 2.66

  6. Disorder, Perpetual wickedness.
• * 2.67

  7. Disorder, Barbarousnes in govern∣ment of those under you.
• * 2.68

  8. Disorder, Perfidious∣ness.
• * 2.69

  Abominable manners.
• * 2.70

  Refutation of the first disorder.
• * 2.71

  Piety the first virtue of a souldier.
• * 2.72

  Reasons which shew that true pie∣ty is the soul of military virtue. Chap. 13. and 11.
• * 2.73

  The Acts of Pagans.
• * 2.74

  Prowess of Christians.
• * 2.75

  Mounsieur Godefroy hath published this written by an ancient Au∣thour.
• * 2.76

  The Marshal Boucicaut.
• * 2.77

  Piety and va∣lour of a French soul∣dier.
• * 2.78

  Horrible spe∣ctacle.
• * 2.79

  Pietie of a souldier.
• * 2.80

  Notable de∣votion of a souldier.
• * 2.81

  Sage govern∣ment of a fa∣mily.
• * 2.82

  To pay his debts.
• * 2.83

  A singular discretion.
• * 2.84

  A condemna∣tion of Ro∣domontadoes and Duels.
• * 2.85

  Authours of duels.
• * 2.86

  Laziness.
• * 2.87

  Juvenal. 1. l. 1 Satyr.
• * 2.88

  Courage of duel like to that of the possessed.
• * 2.89

  Justice of Be∣lisarius and Aurelianus.
• * 2.90

  Procop. l. 1. de bello Vandal.
• * 2.91

  Vopisc. in Au∣rel.
• * 2.92

  Excellent di∣scipline.
• * 2.93

  Military vir∣tues of a brave French souldier.
• * 2.94

  Marvellous contempt of money.
• * 2.95

  An excellent act of Cheva∣lier Bayard.
• * 2.96

  Divers kinds of love.
• * 2.97

  Four sorts of love.
• * 2.98

  Love of sen∣suality.
• * 2.99

  Love of fan∣tasie
• * 2.100

  Love of bon∣dage.
• * 2.101

  Love of fury.
• * 2.102

  Julianus apud Ammianum.
• * 2.103

  A Royal act of military chastitie.
• * 2.104

  Oraculum E∣picylidi reddi∣tum, apud Nicaetam.
• * 2.105

  August. ep. 80.
• * 2.106

  Nazianz. in Iamb.
• * 2.107

  Greatness of Constantine.
• * 2.108

  Theatre of Divine Pro∣vidence.
• * 2.109

  Isaiah 49.
• * 2.110

  The state of the Church under Diocle∣tian.
• * 2.111

  Conditions of Diocletian.
• * 2.112

  He leaveth the Empire.
• * 2.113

  Reasons.
• * 2.114

  Plinius Cam∣panilla. Ruai∣mentum na∣tur•• lilia face∣re discentis.
• * 2.115

  Nobilitie of Constantine.
• * 2.116

  Notable mo∣deration in Constanti••s.
• * 2.117

  Eusebius.
• * 2.118

  Excellent passage.
• * 2.119

  A judicious experiment.
• * 2.120

  To be faith∣ful to the King one must be loyal to God.
• * 2.121

  Helena.
• * 2.122

  It is the opi∣nion of Poli∣dorus lib. 10. Of Radul••h in his Poly. chron. l. 4. cap. 29. Of Hunter. lib. 1. Of O••••••. in the Treatise of Roman Em∣perours, Of Harpsselaius in his histor. Eccles of En∣gland. Lipsius is of another opinion.
• * 2.123

  Beauty and grace of S. Helena.
• * 2.124

  His marriage.
• * 2.125

  Inconstancy of men.
• * 2.126

  Virtue of S. Helena.
• * 2.127

  Love of Con∣stantius and S. Helena.
• * 2.128

  Gregor. epist. 6. l. 5. ad Chil∣debertum. Quantò caete∣ros homines regia dignitas antecellit, tan∣tò caeterarum gentium regna regni profectò vestri culmen excellit.
• * 2.129

  Beautie of Constantine.
• * 2.130

  He was bred in the Court of Diocletian.
• * 2.131

  Constantine at Court of Ga∣lerius.
• * 2.132

  Envie.
• * 2.133

  Quis te Cylla∣rus, aut Arion posset cripere, quem sequeba∣tu•• Imperium? Eumenius.
• * 2.134

  Constant. an. 2.
• * 2.135

  A wonderful spectacle of the affairs of the world.
• * 2.136

  Maximi•••• the ancient com∣panion of Di∣ocletiā would needs return to the Empire, & his Oration upon that subject.
• (a) 2.137

  At Car••n∣tium a little village of Sclavoni••, which Zosimus maketh to pass for the Citie of Char∣ters by a no∣table equivo∣cation, read∣ing Carmuti, for Carunti.
• * 2.138

  A brave re∣ply of Diocle∣sian.
• * 2.139

  Maximian the baloon of fortune.
• * 2.140

  3. Disposition
• * 2.141

  Eusebius.
• * 2.142

  Victor Naza∣rius. Non omnia po∣tes, Dij te vin∣dicant & in∣vicem.
• * 2.143

  Constant. 7.
• * 2.144

  Strange Tra∣gedy.
• * 2.145

  Simil. S. Am∣bros. l. 3. de virginibus.
• * 2.146

  Maxentius defeated.
• * 2.147

  Victor.
• * 2.148

  Condition of Lycinius.
• * 2.149

  First battel against him.
• * 2.150

  2. Battel.
• * 2.151

  Great victory of Constantine
• * 2.152

  End of Lyci∣nius.
• * 2.153

  Constant. 19. Bar.
• * 2.154

  Alban. ani∣mal. Albertus.
• * 2.155

  The first mar∣riage of Con∣stantine.
• * 2.156

  Minervina.
• * 2.157

  Crispus and his qualities.
• * 2.158

  So Simon the Magiciā said, that the soul of Helena had put fire, trou∣ble, and jea∣lousie among the Angel••, but that ta∣king from th•• this object of concupiscence he had accor∣ded them. Ph••••astrius de haeres.
• * 2.159

  Love turned into rage.
• * 2.160

  A wicked ca∣lumny.
• * 2.161

  Death of Crispus.
• * 2.162

  The rage of Fausta turned into pitie.
• * 2.163

  Calumny dis∣covered.
• * 2.164

  Death of Fausta.
• * 2.165

  Constant. 19.
• * 2.166

  Beginning of the conver∣sion of the Emperour.
• * 2.167

  Absolute cō∣version of the Emperour.
• * 2.168

  Discourse of Sopater.
• * 2.169

  His Baptism.
• * 2.170

  I•• ultimis co••∣stitutus.
• * 2.171

  The history of the Bap∣tism of Con∣stātine drawn from the acts attributed to S. Sylvester, is more easie pi∣ously to be believed, than effectually proved.
• * 2.172

  Gregor. Tu∣ron. hist. l. 2. cap. 31. Prodit novus Constantinus ad lavacrum deleturus leprae veteris mor∣bum.
• * 2.173

  Contra mul••os sapere desipere est.
• * 2.174

  Sapientiae pri∣••ae haec veritas est, interdum sapere quo•• nc∣lit. Hilar. l. 8. de Trinitate.
• * 2.175

  History of Baptism ac∣cording to the acts of S. Syl∣vester.
• * 2.176

  Notable Ora∣tion of Con∣stantine, part∣ly drawn out of his acts and Edicts.
• * 2.177

  Admirable change of the world by the Oration and example of the Empe∣rour.
• * 2.178

  Edicts and conversions.
• * 2.179

  Piety of Con∣stantine.
• * 2.180

  His devotion
• * 2.181

  Humility.
• * 2.182

  His patience.
• * 2.183

  His Edicts.
• * 2.184

  Duels.
• * 2.185

  L. 1. de gladi∣at. Cod. Theod.
• * 2.186

  Apostrophe to King Lewis the thirteenth
• * 2.187

  His chastity.
• * 2.188

  His prudence. Cod. Theod. L. de paenit. Quo facies, quae ad similitudi∣nem pulchri∣tudinis caelestis est sigurata, mi∣nimè macule∣tur. Zozom. l. 1. c. 8.
• * 2.189

  Honour of the Cross.
• * 2.190

  Original of the Arians.
• * 2.191

  Arius and his qualities.
• * 2.192

  Proceeding of Arians.
• * 2.193

  Baruch 6. 70. Job 26.
• * 2.194

  Jer. 12. 2.
• * 2.195

  Constantine deceived.
• * 2.196

  Eusebius a true patron of hereticks.
• * 2.197

  Councel of Nice.
• * 2.198

  Zozom. l. 1. cap. 16.
• * 2.199

  Constantius in the assembly of Bishops.
• * 2.200

  Oration of Eustatius at ••he opening of the Coun∣cel.
• * 2.201

  O••ation of Constantine.
• * 2.202

  Condemna∣tion of Arius.
• * 2.203

  S. Athanasius,
• * 2.204

  End of Arius.
• * 2.205

  Constant. 19. Constantino∣ple erected.
• * 2.206

  Zonar. & Gly∣c••••.
• * 2.207

  Tertul. l. de Idol. cap. 6.
• * 2.208

  Tributes.
• * 2.209

  Cod. Theod. l. 2. de exactionibus.
• * 2.210

  Cod. Theod. l. 2. tit 2. Victor.
• * 2.211

  Greatness of Constantine.
• (d) 2.212

  Vir ingens. Innumerae in e•• animi corpori••▪ que virtutes clar••erunt: for∣tunà in bel•••• prosperâ fuit: verum ita ut non super••ret industrian. The Prince cap. 2. and upon the 1. Decad. chap. 12. 13.
• * 2.213

  Admirable providence of God. above all humane Po∣licy.
• * 2.214

  Advise to the Nobility.
• * 2.215

  Successours of Constantine.
• * 2.216

  Julian with the qualities which Ma∣chiavel giveth a Prince had ill succ. ss.
• * 2.217

  Aug. lib. 5. de civitate Dei cap. 24.
• * 2.218

  Excellentibus ingeniit citius defueritars, quâ civem re∣gant, quàm quâ hostem su∣perent. Tit. Liv. lib. 2.
• * 2.219

  D. Tho. 22. q 58. Justicia legalis, praeclarior om∣nibus morali∣bus; quia bonum commune pre∣••minet bono singulari. Tertul. l. 2. ad∣versus Mar∣cion. Bonita•• Dei operata est mundum, justi∣tia modulata est.
• * 2.220

  Genes. 8. v. 27. accord∣ing to the He∣brew text.
• * 2.221

  Job. 8. 33. Ordinem Coeli.
• * 2.222

  Isay. 66. Coelum miki sedes est. Effi∣ciuntur sedes Dei, facti pri∣us conversa∣tione & peri∣tia coelestes. Orig. Philostr. l. 1. c. 18.
• * 2.223

  Jud. 45.
• * 2.224

  Exornétque tuas plurima palma fores. Mortial.
• * 2.225

  Exod. 32.
• * 2.226

  Plutarch. de curiosit. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 2.227

  Cyprian epist. ad Donatum. Inter leges ip∣su delinqui∣tur, inter jura peccatur.
• * 2.228

  Fures privato∣rum surtorum in compedibus publici in au∣ro vitam agunt Cato.
• * 2.229

  Rispelliones.
• * 2.230

  Lylius Giral∣dus in pictura favo•• is.
• * 2.231

  Aquila An∣serinae. Stapl.
• * 2.232

  Eccles. 23. the Greek vers. 5. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 2.233

  Dionis. c. 1. de divinis no∣minibus.
• (a) 2.234

  Aug. l. 3. de libero arbit. c. 24. Cui bonum non est Deus, sibi ipsi vult esse bonum su∣um sicut sibi est Deus.
• * 2.235

  Vide Lipsium in notis ad 3. lib. politic. c. 4. p. 125.
• * 2.236

  Consilium A∣chitophel quasi siquis consulerit De∣um. 2. Reg. 2.
• * 2.237

  Ratio D. An∣s••l••i dialog. de veritate c. 1.
• * 2.238

  D. Thom. opus∣cul. 2. cap. 21. Quae sunt per participatio∣nem relu••un∣tur in id quod est per essenti∣am.
• * 2.239

  Irridendum, agere curam rerum huma∣n••rum quic∣quid est sum∣mum, sed cre∣di, & usu vi∣t•• est. Plin. l. 2. c. 7.
• * 2.240

  O proditorem generis huma∣ni. Vives 1. de verit. fidei lib. 9.
• * 2.241

  Against the ancient say∣ing touched by Tertullian: Non licet Deos nosse gratis. Diogen. Laer. lib. 4.
• * 2.242

  Aug. Enar. 2. in Psal. 25. Dicis Deo, Haec est justitia tua ut mali flore∣ant, boni labo∣rent: & Deus tibi respondet, Haec est fides tua: Hoccine tibi promisi, & ad hoc Christi∣anus factus es, ut in spculo stor••res?
• * 2.243

  Domus Jero∣boam eversa esi, & deleta de superficie terrae. 3 Reg. 15.
• * 2.244

  This narrati∣on is found in the lives of the holy An∣chorets.
• * 2.245

  Chrys. hom. 30 ad Popul. Antio.
• * 2.246

  Isaiah 19.
• * 2.247

  Job 12.
• * 2.248

  Insuspicabilis secreti reve∣rendaeque ma∣jestatis cognitio est, Deum non nosse, nisi De∣um. S. Zeno serm. de Nati∣vitat.
• * 2.249

  Peceare & non cohibere pec∣cantes, juxta aestima. Dos∣theus l. Itali∣corum.
• * 2.250

  1 Reg. 33. juxta 70. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 2.251

  Qualities of an Officer.
• * 2.252

  Greg. in Job. 29. Justiti•• firmatur ••••li∣um. Prov. 16.
• * 2.253

  Evect••s in ex∣••••lsum i••••e magis ••itis de∣spice. Cassiod.
• * 2.254

  Eccles. 10. 8.
• * 2.255

  Campanus In∣teramne••us Episcop.
• * 2.256

  2 Parol. 45.
• * 2.257

  3 Reg. 7. 16.
• * 2.258

  Nigredo san∣guine•• regnan∣tem discernit, & praestat hu∣mano generi, ne de aspectu Prin∣cipi•• possit er∣rari. Cassiod. Var. l. 1. Ep. 2.
• * 2.259

  Jer. 26. 13.
• * 2.260

  Diminutio majestatis fe∣cisse mutanda. Seneca.
• * 2.261

  Esther. 16.
• * 2.262

  Pol••b. lib. 9.
• * 2.263

  Nil vile, nil cupidum Judi∣ces decet. Cla∣ras suos macu∣las reddunt, si illi, ad quos multi respici∣unt, aliqud re∣prebensione sordescant. Cassiodorus.
• * 2.264

  A notable practise given by King Theo∣dorick to Cas∣siodorus. Proprio censu neglecto sine invidiâ lucri morum divitias retulisti: Et unde vix solet reportari pati∣enti•• silenti∣um, voces mili∣taverunt tibi loudantium.
• * 2.265

  Anima vulne∣ratorum cla∣mavit, & Deus in ul am abire non patitur.
• * 2.266

  Regnantis fa∣cultas tunc ••••¦ditior, cùm r••∣mitti••, & ac∣quirit nobiles thesauros fam••, neglect•• vili∣tate pecuniae. Cassiod. l. 1. Epist. 16.
• * 2.267

  Actu otiosi•• similli••us. Velleius.
• * 2.268

  Avicen. de diluviis.
• * 2.269

  See La journée
• * 2.270

  Moses Dei de proximo arbi∣ter. Tertul. de Monogami••▪ August. l. 22. contr. Faust. cap. 69.
• * 2.271

  Omnem istam s••cun••um cor∣pus habitatio∣nem, coelestis puritate con∣versationis ob∣duxerat, men∣tem r••g••ns, carnem s••••ji∣c••n••, nomine Dei vocatus est, id c••jus si∣militu••inem se perfect•• virtu∣••is ••b••rtate formaverit. Ambros. l. 2. de Cain & Abel.
• * 2.272

  1 Reg. 22. Loquimini de me••••••ram Do∣mino, & ••oram Christo ejus.
• * 2.273

  Prover••. 30.
• * 2.274

  Lib. 4. cap. 15. de rogim. Princip.
• * 2.275

  Vide Boro. Ann. 990.
• * 2.276

  Scalig. in Hy∣percriti••o.
• * 2.277

  Fugam solis a∣quiparat, quod motum semper ignorat. Invi∣derent talibus, si astra senti∣rent. Ʋbi est illud horarum de lumine ve∣nientium sin∣gulare miracu∣lum, si hos & umbra demon∣strat? Cassiodo∣rus l. variar. Epist. 45.
• * 2.278

  Cassiodorus variarum 16. Epist. 40.
• * 2.279

  Procopius saith, that Theodo∣rick took pre∣text, and trea∣cherously slew him at a banquet.
• * 2.280

  Sigonius. l 5. Occidentali de Imperio in fine.
• * 2.281

  So an ancient manuscript observeth it, found in a Library at Rome.
• * 2.282

  Quam speciosa debet esse Hie∣rusalem illa caelestis, si sic fulget Roma terrestris! Et si in hoc seculo datur tanti ho∣noris dignitas diligentibus vanitatem, qualis honor & gloris tribu••∣tur Sanctis contemplanti∣bus veritatem?
• * 2.283

  Anonymus Author in ejus vitâ.
• * 2.284

  Idem author testatur.
• * 2.285

  Theodorus Anagnostes 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 2.286

  Vitia transmit∣tit ad posteròs qui praesenti∣bus culpis ig∣noscit.
• * 2.287

  Cassiodor. l. 2. c. 2. 29.
• * 2.288

  Cassioder l. 4. ep. 36.
• * 2.289

  Lib. ••. Epis. ••.
• * 2.290

  Cassioder. ra••. l. 22▪ Mihipro∣pria cura di∣lapsi est, post∣quam genera∣lem coepicogi∣tare custodi∣am. Opto mei•• benè sed quod possit esse commune.
• * 2.291

  Manuscrip∣tum P. Sir∣mundi. Joan∣nes Magnus, & Laurentius Venetus.
• * 2.292

  Epist. 3. lib. 4.
• * 2.293

  Theophrasi. de plantis. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 2.294

  Cassiod. l. 1. Ep. 19. Indigen tid ju∣ste fugimus qua suadet ex∣cessus, dum per∣niciosa res est in imperante tenuitas.
• * 2.295

  Ex ep. 24. l. 5.
• * 2.296

  Res praeliorum benè disponi∣tur, quoties in pace tractatur.
• * 2.297

  Cassiod. l. 1. ep. 17.
• * 2.298

  Lib. 5. ep. 16.
• * 2.299

  Epist. 41. li. 2
• * 2.300

  Ennodius in epist. ad Boe∣titan l. 8. epist. 1. Venae purpura∣rum. Purpurae possessoris luce crescentes▪
• * 2.301

  Gerebertur l. 2. Epigt. Pi∣thae.
• * 2.302

  Zacharias Rhetor, & M. S. Sirmu••di.
• * 2.303

  Justin. Ge∣nev. hist. li. 6.
• * 2.304

  E••eu! cur du∣rs miseros a verteri•• à ••e, Et stentes ocu∣lis claudere sae∣•••• negas? Lib. 1. Metr. 1.
• * 2.305

  Lib. 1. pros. 6. Maximus so∣mes salutis, ve∣ra de mundi gubernatione sententia.
• * 2.306

  Lib. 1. pros. 1. & alibi.
• * 2.307

  Si miserum est voluisse prava, potuisse mise∣rius est. Lib. 4. Prosa. 4.
• * 2.308

  Lib. 3. Met. S. Quid dign••m stolidis menti∣bus improcer, &c.
• * 2.309

  Vide Bern. Lib. 2. de Con∣sideratione cap. 89.
• * 2.310

  Lib. 2. Pros. 4.
• * 2.311

  Prof. 6. l. 3. O gloria gloria, millibus homi∣num mortali∣um nihil aliud nisi aurium in statio magna.
• * 2.312

  Dum ruitures moles ipsa tra∣hit.
• * 2.313

  This is in∣serted in my Journ••••.
• * 2.314

  Procop. lib. 4.
• * 2.315

  Greg. l. 4. & 30
• * 2.316

  Olla Vulcani.
• * 2.317

  Justin. ad Ze∣nam. Serenū. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 2.318

  A••on of Creet.
• * 2.319

  Si mundus absque mulie∣ribus esset, con∣versatio nostra non esset abs∣que Diis.
• * 2.320

  Brisson for.
• * 2.321

  S. Zeno ho∣mil. de con∣tinent. Aut hostis publicus, aut insanus.
• * 2.322

  1 Pet. 3. Ʋi qui non credunt Verbo, per conversati∣onem mulierum sine verbo lu∣cri••i••nt.
• * 2.323

  Anno 830. Zonoras saith, that she was onely step-mother, and relateth it somewhat o∣therwise, but let us follow our Authour.
• * 2.324

  Tertul. l. de animâ. Animae non habent sexum.
• * 2.325

  Sus toto in vo∣lutabro. Pet. 2. 2.
• * 2.326

  Vide Petrum Damianum in Gomorrhea∣nis.
• * 2.327

  Eccles. 9. Laqueus vena∣torum.
• * 2.328

  Mulier siulta & clamosa, ni∣hil omnino sci∣ens. Eccles. 9. Tecta perstil∣l••ntia in die fei••••ris. Prov. 17.
• * 2.329

  Ʋlysses Ald••∣brandinus.
• * 2.330

  Mulierum ver∣bales undae. Fulgentius.
• * 2.331

  Mulier fatua. Prov. 1.
• * 2.332

  August. l. ••. de Civit. Dei. Philo de sacri. Abel & Cain.
• * 2.333

  Non est ira su∣per iram mu∣lieris. Eccles. 15.
• * 2.334

  S. Zeno Ho••. de continent.
• * 2.335

  Custodi te à muliere m••l••. Prov. 6.
• * 2.336

  Mulicrum pe∣nus avarissi∣mum.
• * 2.337

  Fountain Garamant. Holunicus. S. Bonaventu∣ra in dieta.
• * 2.338

  Inveni amari∣rem morte mu∣lier••m. Eccles. 7.
• * 2.339

  Mulier com∣pta. Eccles. 9.
• * 2.340

  Ptolom. Al∣mag. 2.
• (a) 2.341

  Sicut sol oriens in mun∣do, in altissimis Dei. Eccles. 26.
• (b) 2.342

  Nihil ha∣bet mortale, ni∣si quod moritur apis nullus nisi artifex nasci∣tur. Quintil.
• (c) 2.343

  Nullus cum per coelum li∣cuit, ••lio periit dies. Plin. l. 1.
• (d) 2.344

  Prov. 19. Domus, & di∣vitiae dantur à parentibus, à Domino autem propriè uxor prudens.
• (a) 2.345

  These are the qualities which the Scripture gi∣veth her in divers places.
• (b) 2.346

  The first title of a wo∣man, which S. Paul obser∣veth in the Epistle to Ti∣tus c. 2. when he calleth her by a Greek word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, as one would say, suitable to holy things.
• (c) 2.347

  Altaris dum veneran∣tur, evertunt. S. Zeno hom. de patientia.
• * 2.348

  Strabo lib. 1. Aelian. de a∣nimal. l. 7.
• * 2.349

  In incorrupti∣bilitate quieti & modesti spiritus. 1 Pet. 3, 4.
• * 2.350

  It is the qua∣litie S. Paul calleth san∣ctificatione. 1 Tim. 2. Saluabitur per¦filiorum gene∣rationem, sa¦permanserit in fide, & dilecti∣one, & sancti∣ficatione, cum sobrietate.
• * 2.351

  Hierom. ad Laetam. Securi••ris est continentiae nescire quod quaera.
• * 2.352

  A title which the Wiseman expresseth by the word, Sensata, Eccles. 7. And S. Paul useth the word 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Tit. 2. much recōmending to women, the care of houshold af∣fairs.
• * 2.353

  P••ov. 3••.
• * 2.354

  It is the Epi∣there which S. Paul giveth to virtuous wo∣men, calling them 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Tit. 2.
• * 2.355

  Vives relateth this in the se∣cond book of a Christian. Woman, of one named Cl••r••.
• * 2.356

  See Lipsius in his Politi••ks.
• * 2.357

  Ex Greg. Tu∣ronensi, Am∣monio, Hinc∣maro, Philip∣po Bergo∣nensi, Baro∣nio, &c.
• * 2.358

  Sidon. Apol∣linar. ep. 7. c. 9 Flumen in ver∣bis, lumen in clausulis.
• * 2.359

  Anno Christi 499. Clodovaei 15.
• * 2.360

  Chronic•••• manuscription.
• * 2.361

  Omnipotentem Deum in Tri∣nitate confes∣sus. Gregor. Turon.
• * 2.362

  In bapismate ejus Angelus ampullam sacri Chrismatis de∣tulit. Vide Morum. de sacris unctio∣nibus l. 2. c. 7. Clemens quar∣tus, alias Gui∣do, scripsit in Jus civile.
• * 2.363

  Ita Savarus in Tractatu de sanctitate Re∣gis Ludovicit
• * 2.364

  Baron. tom. 5. anno 514.
• * 2.365

  Flodoardus Philippus Bergomensis. Savaro. p. 15. de pietate Regis Ludo∣vici.
• * 2.366

  Communis E∣piscopus corum que extra ex∣clesiam.
• * 2.367

  1 Pet. 2. Sub diti estote omni human•• creaturae pro∣pter Deum, sive Regi quasi praecellenti, sive ••ucibus tam∣quam ab co missis.
• * 2.368

  Paul. Emil.
• * 2.369

  See Monsieur du Pleix.
• * 2.370

  Suidas. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 2.371

  V. Kal. Dec. Depositio ma∣gni Regis Clo∣dovaei. Du Pleix.
• * 2.372

  Greg. ep. 6. l. 5. quae est 106.
• * 2.373

  Baron. tom. 10. anno Chri∣sti. 960. Con∣stant. Octavi. 49.
• * 2.374

  Others say, he was sent pri∣soner to the Emperour Mauritius, but without ground.