A treatise of the difference bbtwixt [sic] the temporal and eternal composed in Spanish by Eusebius Nieremberg ... ; translated into English by Sir Vivian Mullineaux, Knight ; and since reviewed according to the tenth and last Spanish edition.

THE THIRD BOOK OF THE DIFFERENCE BETWIXT THE TEMPORAL and ETERNAL.

CAP. I.

The mutability of things temporal makes them worthy of contempt.

HItherto we have spoken of the shortness of time, and consequently of all things temporal, and of the end wherein they are to conclude. Nothing is exempted from death, and therefore not onely humane life, but all things which fol∣low time, and even time it self at last must die. Where∣fore Hesichius,* 1.1 as he is translated by St. John Damascen, saith, That the splendour of this world is but as wi∣thered leaves, bubles of water, smoke, stubble, a sha∣dow, and dust driven by the wind: all things that are of earth being to end in earth. But this is not all; for besides the certainty of end, they are infected with another mischief, which renders them much more

contemptible than that, which is their instability, and continual changes, whereunto they are subject even whilest they are. For as time it self is in a perpetual succession and mutation, as being the brother and in∣separable companion of Motion, so it fixes this ill condition unto most of those things which pass along in it, the which not onely have an end, and that a short one, but even during that shortness of time, which they last, have a thousand changes, and before their end many ends, and before their death many deaths, each particular change, which our life suffers, being the death of some estate or part of if. For as death is the total change of life, so every change is the death of Come part. Sickness is the death of health, sleeping of waking, sorrow of joy, impatience of qui∣et, youth of infancy, and age of youth. The same condition hath the universal world and all things in it; for which cause they deserve so much contempt, that Marcus Aurelius the Emperour wondered that there could be found a man so senseless,* 1.2 as to value them; and therefore speaks in this manner.

Of that very thing, which is now in doing, some part is already vanisht: changes and alterations continually innovate the world, as that immense space of time by a perpetual flux renews it self. Who therefore shall esteem those things which never subsist, but pass along in this headlong and precipitate river of time, is as he who sets his affection upon some little bird, which passes along in the air, and is no more seen.

Thus much from this Philosopher. This very cause of the little value of things temporal proceeding from their perpetual changes, together with the end where∣unto they are subject, is, as St. Gregory notes, signified unto us by that Woman in the Apocalyps,* 1.3 who had the Moon under her feet, and her head adorned with twelve Stars. Certainly the Moon, as well as the Stars, might have been placed in her Diadem: but it was trod under foot by reason of the continual changes

and alterations which it suffers, whereby it becomes a figure of things temporal, which change not onely every Moneth, but every day; the same day being, as Euripides sayes, now a Mother, then a Stepmother. The same was also signified by the Angel,* 1.4 who crown∣ed with a Rainbow descended from heaven to pro∣claim that all time was to end; with his right foot, which presses and treads more firmly, he stood upon the Sea, which by reason of its great unquietness is al∣so a figure of the instability of this World. And there∣fore with much reason did the Angel, who had taught us by his voice, that all time and temporal things were to have an end, shew us also by this signe, that for their instability and inconstancy they were even before their end to be trodden under foot and despi∣sed. But more lively is the same exprest by the same St. John,* 1.5 when he beheld the Saints standing upon the Sea, to note that whilest they lived they contem∣ned and trampled under foot the transitory and fading things of this World; and to declare it more fully he sayes, the Sea was of glass, then which nothing is more frail, and although hard yet brittle.

Needs must the instability of things temporal be very great, and therefore most despicable, because it proceeeds from so many causes. For as the Sea hath two several kinds of motion, the first natural, by which it riseth and falleth daily with continual ebbs and flows, so as the waves, when they are most quiet, are yet still moving and inconstant: the other violent, when the waters are raised and incensed by some fu∣rious tempest; in the same manner the things of this World are naturally of themselves fading and transi∣tory, and without any exteriour violence suffer a con∣tinual change; and run rowling on toward their end; but besides are also subject to other unthought of ac∣cidents, and extraordinary violences, which force na∣ture out of her course, and raise huge storms in the Sea of this life, by which those things, which we most

esteem, suffer shipwrack. For as the fairest flower wi∣thers of it self, yet is oftentimes before born away by the wind, or perishes by some storm of hail, The most exact beauties lose their lustre by age, but are often be∣fore blasted by some violent Feaver, The most costly Garments wear out in time, if before not taken from us by the Theef, The strongest and most sumptuous Palaces decay with continuance, if before not ruined by Fire or Earthquakes: In like manner both their own nature and extrinsecal violences deprive tempo∣ral things even of time it self, and trail them along in perpetual changes, leaving nothing stable. Let us cast our eyes upon those things which men judge most worthy to endure,* 1.6 and made them to the end they should be eternal. How many changes and deaths have they suffered? St. Gregory Nazienzen places the City of Thebes in Aegypt, as the chiefest of those won∣ders, which the world admired.* 1.7 Most of the houses were of Alabaster Marble spotted with drops of gold, which made them appear most splendid and magni∣ficent: Upon the walls were many pleasant Gardens,* 1.8 which they called Horti pensiles, or hanging Gardens; and the Gates were no less than a hundred, out of which the Prince could draw forth numerous Armies without noise or knowledge of the people. Pomponius Mela writes, that out of every Port there issued 10000 armed men,* 1.9 which in the whole came to be an Army of a million. Yet all this huge multitude could not secure it from a small Army conducted by a Youth, who, as St. Jerome writes, took and destroyed it. Marcus Polus writes that he passed by the City of Quinsay, which contained fourscore millions of souls; and Nicholas de Conti passing not many years after by the same way found the City wholly destroyed,* 1.10 and begun to be newly built after another form. But yet in greater than this was the City of Ninive, which ac∣cording to the holy Scripture was of three dayes jour∣ney; and it is now many ages since that we know not

where it stood.* 1.11 No less stately, but perhaps better for∣tified was the City of Babylon: and that, which was the Imperial City of the World, became a Desert, and a Habitation of Harpies, Onocentaurs, Satyrs, Mon∣sters, and Devils, as was foretold by the Prophets: and the walls which were 200 foot in height, and 50 in breadth could not defend it from time. And yet the holy Scripture describes Ecbatana the chief City of Media to be more strong than that. It was built by Arphaxad, King of the Medes, of square stone: the Walls contained seventy cubits in breadth, thirty cu∣bits in height, and the Towers, which encompassed it, were each in height a hundred cubits; and yet for all this could not the Median Empire, having such a head, escape from rendring it self unto the Assyrians. And the same Monarch, who built it, and made the World to tremble under him, came to lose it and him∣self, and having conquered many Nations, became at last conquered and a Slave unto his enemies.

It is not much that Cities have suffered so many changes, since Monarchies and Empires have done the same: and so often hath the World changed her face, as she hath changed her Monarch and Master. He who had seen the World as it was in the time of the Persi∣ans, would not have known it as it was in the time of the Assyrians; and he who knew it in the time of the Persians, would not have judged it for the same when the Greeks were Masters. After in the time of the Romans it appeared with a face not known before: and he who knew it then would not know it now; and some years hence it will put on another form, being in nothing more like it self than in its perpetual changes and alterations; for which cause it hath been ever worthy of scorn and contempt, and more now than ever,* 1.12 since it becomes every day worse, and grows old, and decayes with age, as St, Cyprian notes in those words:

Thou art to know that the World is already grown old, and doth not remain in that

strength and vigour which it had at first. This the World it self tells us, and the daily declining of it into worse needs no other testimony. The Winter wants the usual rains to fertilize the earth; the Summer the accustomed heat to ripen the corn; the Autumn is not loaden as heretofore with fruits, nor the Spring glads us with the delight and plea∣sure of its sweet temperature; out of the hollowed Mountains are drawn less pieces of marble; and the exhausted Mines yield less quantities of gold and sil∣ver. The Labourer is wanting in the Fields, the Mariners in the Seas, the Souldier in the Tents, In∣nocency in the Market-places, Justice in the Tribu∣nals, Sincerity in Friendship, Skill in Arts, and Dis∣cipline in Manners. Necessary it is, that that should decay, which thus daily sinks into it self, and approa∣ches towards an end. Immediately he adds; This is the doom of the World, This the ordinance of God; all that is born must die; all that increases must grow old, the strong become feeble, the great diminish, and when diminished perish. Anciently our lives extended beyond 800 or 900 years: now few arrive unto an hundred. We see boys grown gray, and our age ends not in decrepit years, but then begins: and in our very birth we draw near our ends, and he who is now born, with the age of the World degenerates. Let no man therefore marvel that the parts of the World decay, since the whole goes to ruine.

Neither is the World onely grown worse in the natural frame of it, but is also much de∣faced in the moral; the manners of men have altered it more, than the violences and encounters of the Ele∣ments. The Empire of the Assyrians much corrupted the primitive simplicity and innocence of it; and what they wanted was effected by the Persians; and wherein they failed, by the Greeks; and wherein they, by the Romans; and wherein they, is abundantly made up by us; For the pride of Monarchs is the ru∣ine

and destruction of good manners. And therefore unto the four Monarchies may be fitly applyed that which was foretold by the Prophet Joel,* 1.13 What was left by the Eruke was eaten by the Locust, what was lest by the Locust was eaten by the Bruke, and what was left by the Bruke was devoured by the Blast.

§. 2.

More are the causes of alterations in the World than in the Ocean. For besides the condition of hu∣mane things, which as well intrinsecally and of their own nature, as by the external violences which they suffer, are subject to perish, the very spirit and hu∣mour of man being fickle and inconstant is the occasi∣on of great changes. Not without grea•• proportion did the Holy Ghost say, That the fool changed like the Moon, which is not ouely mutable in figure but in colour. The natural Philosophers observe three co∣lours in the Moon, pale, red, and white; the first foreshews rain, the second wind, and the third chears up with hopes of fair weather. In the same, manner is the heart of man changed by three most violent af∣fections represented by those three colours. That of pale the colour of gold, coveting riches more frail and slippery than waters; That of red the colour of purple, gaping after the wind of vain honours; The last of white the colour of mirth and jollity, running after the gusts and pleasures of this life. With these three affections Man is in perpetual change and moti∣on; and as there are some Plants which follow the course of the Moon, still turning and moving accord∣ing to her course, so these alterations in humane af∣fections draw after them, and are the cause of these great changes and revolutions, which happen in the World. How many Kingdoms were overthrown by the covetousness of Cyrus? The ambition of Alexander did not onely destroy a great part of the World, but

made it put on a clear other face than it had before. What part of Troy was left standing by the lascivious love of Paris, who was not onely the ruine of Greece, but set on fire his own Countrey? That which time spares is often snatcht away by the covetousness of the Theef: and how many lives are cut off by revenge, before they arrive unto old age? There is no doubt but humane affections are those fierce winds which trouble the Sea of this World: and as the Ocean ebbs and flows according to the course of the Moon, so the things of this life conform their motions unto humane passions. There is no stability in any thing, and least in man, who is not onely changeable in himself, but changes all things besides.

So unstable and variable is man, that David unto some of his Psalms gives these words for a Title;* 1.14 For those who shall change; and St. Basil explicating the same Title, saith, It was meant of man, whose life is a perpetual change; unto which is conformable the translation of Aquila, who instead of those words ren∣ders it, Pro foliis, For the leaves: because man is mo∣ved by every wind as the leaves of a tree. This muta∣bility is very apparent in the Passion of Christ our Re∣deemer, which is the subject of the 78. Psalme, which beareth this Title. They of Jerusalem having received him with greater honour than they ever gave to man, within four dayes after treated, him with the greatest infamy and villany that was possible to be exprest by Devils. There is no trust in the heart of man; now it loves, now it abhors, now it desires, now fears, now esteemes, now despises. Who is not amazed at the change of St. Peter, who after so many promises and resolutions to die for his Master, within a few hours swore as many false oaths, that he knew him not? What shall become of the Reed and Bulrush, when the Oak and Ceder totters. Neither is the change of Am∣non a little to be wonderd at, who loving Thamar with that violence of passion, that he fell sick for her, im∣mediately

mediatly after abhorred her so much, that he barbar∣ously turned her out of his chamber. But I know no∣thing that can more evidently set forth the mutabilitie of humane affections, than that memorable accident which happened in Ephesus.* 1.15 There lived in that City a Matron of an honest repute and conversation, whose Husband dying left her the most disconsolate and sad Widow that ever was heard of; all was lamentations, tearing and disfiguring her face and breasts with her nails: and not content with the usual Ceremonies of Widows of those times, she enclosed her self with his dead Body in the Sepulcher, which anciently was a Vault in the fields, capacious and prepared for that use; there she resolved to famish her self, and follow him into the next world: and had already for four dayes abstained from all manner of sustenance. It hap∣pened that near that place a certain Malefactor was executed, and lest his kindred should by night steal a∣way his Body and give it burial, a Souldier was ap∣pointed to watch it, who being weary, and remem∣bring that not far off the Widow was enclosed in the Sepulcher, resolved for a time to quit his charge, and trye what entertainment he could find with her. Whereupon carrying his supper along with him he entred the Vault, and at first had much adoe to per∣swade the grieved Widow to take part with him, to forsake her desperate resolution of famishing, and be content to live; but a while after having prevailed in this, and passing further with the same oratory he perswaded her, who had not denied to share with him in his supper, to afford him the fruition of her person, which she likewise did. In the mean time whilest the Souldier transported with his pleasure forgot his duty, the friends of the executed Malefactor stole away the Body: which being perceived by the Souldier, who now satiate with his dalliance was re∣turned unto his guard, and knowing his offence to be no less than capital, he repairs with great fear and a∣mazement

unto his Widow, and acquaints her with the mischance, who was not slow in providing a reme∣dy: but taking the dead body of her Husband, which had cost her so many tears, advised him to hang it upon the Gallows to supply the room of the Malefa∣ctor. Such is the inconstancy of humane hearts, more variable than seems possible, which changing in them∣selves draw within their compass the rest of the hings of this World.

Philo considering and admiring so great vanity and change,* 1.16 speaks after this manner.

Perhaps those things which concern the Body are they not dreams? perhaps this momentary beauty does it not wither even before it flourish? our health is uncertain, exposed to so many infirmities: a thou∣sand griefs happening by divers occasions abate our strength and forces: the quickness and vigour of our senses are corrupted by vitious humours. Who then can be ignorant of the baseness of exteriour things? One day often makes an end of great ri∣ches: many Personages of great honour and esteem changing their fortune become infamous: great Empires and Kingdoms have in a short time been ruined. Of this Dionysius is a sufficient witness, who thrust from his Throne from a King of Sicily be∣came a School-master in Gorinth, and taught boyes. The like happened unto Craesus the most rich King of Lydia, who being in hope to overthrow the Per∣sians, not onely lost his own Kingdom, but fell into the power of his enemies, and failed little of being burnt alive. Particular persons are not onely wit∣nesses that all humane things are dreams, but Cities, Nations, Kingdoms, Greeks and Barbarians, the Isles, and those who inhabit the Continent of Europe, Asia, the East, and West, nothing remains like unto it self.

Certainly, as Philo sayes, the instability of humane things makes them appear not onely a dream, but as a dream of a shadow rather than of any thing

solid and consistent.* 1.17 Let us hear also what St. Chry∣sostome sayes, and counsels us concerning the same mat∣ter.

All things present (saith he) are more frail and weak than the webs of spiders, and more deceitful than dreams: for as well the goods as evils have their end. Since therefore we esteem things present but as a dream, and we our selves to be but as in a Inn, from whence we are sodainly to depart, let us take care for our journey, and furnish our selves with provision, and a Viaticum for eternity; let us cloath our selves with such garments, as we may carry along with us. For as no man can lay hold on his Shadow, so no man retains things humane, which partly in death, and partly before death fly from us, and run more swiftly than a rapid river. To the contrary are those things which are to come, which neither suffer age, nor change, nor are sub∣ject to revolutions, but perpetually flourish and per∣severe in a continued felicity. Take heed then of ad∣miring those riches which remain not with their Masters, but change in every instant, and leap from one to another, and from this to that. It behooves thee to despise all those things, and to esteem them as nothing.

Let it suffice to hear what the Apostle sayes; The things that are seen are temporal, but those which are not seen are eternal. Things humane disappear more sodainly than a shadow.

CAP. II.

How great and desperate soever our Temporal evils are, yet hope may make them tolerable.

FRom this inconstancy of humane things we may extract a constancy for our selves: First by despising things so frail and transitory, which, as we have already said, is a sufficient ground for their con∣tempt;

Secondly by a resolute hope and expectation of an end or change in our adversity and afflictions, since nothing here below is constant, but all mutable and unstable: and as things sometimes change from good to evil, so they may also from evil unto good. And as great prosperity hath often been the occasion of greater misery, so we may hope our greatest mis∣fortunes may produce a greater happiness. Wherefore as in eternal evils, because immutable, we want the hope of a happy condition, so in temporal evils, how great soever, we ought not to despair, which we dai∣ly see confirmed with most unexpected successes. Let us therefore onely fear eternal evils, which are not capable of remedy, and let us not despair and afflict our selves for the temporal, which hath it, and im∣ports little whether it have it or no. This is not ill exprest by that which happened unto the Roman Ap∣pius,* 1.18 who being proscribed and condemned to banish∣ment, became by the treachery of his Slaves and Ser∣vants in danger of his life, who out of covetousness to possess themselves of the goods and treasure, which he carried along with him, cast him forth into a small Shallop, and sailed away with the Ship. But from this misfortune sprung his deliverance: For not long after the Ship sunk, in which his Slaves were drowned, and he himself (who had perished if he had been with them) escaped with this little loss, and came safe into Sicily. Aristomenes being taken by his enemies, and cast into an obscure Dungeon, was there at least by fa∣mine and unwholesomness of the place to end his dayes; but in the middest of despair an unexpected ac∣cident gave him hope of delivery. A Fox by chance passing through a little hole under ground entred into the Dungeon, where he had made his Den, which being espied by Aristomenes, he laid fast hold on him with one hand, and with the other enlarged the pas∣sage, and voiding the loose earth as he went, follow∣ed his guide, who at last safely conducted him into

the open field, from whence he escaped in safety, when his enemies thought he had been dead. There is no condition of life so miserable wherein we ought to despair, nay wherein we may not hope of better∣ing our fortunes. To how many hath a seeming un∣lucky accident been the occasion of great preferment, and a disgrace of honours? Diogenes his being con∣demned for false money, and held for an infamous person, was the occasion of his receiving respect and honour from Princes,* 1.19' Alexander the Master of the World coming to visit him. Phalareus being wounded in his breast by his enemies was cured of an Impost∣hume held desperate by the Physicians.* 1.20 Galen writes of a Leper, who was cured by drinking a little wine, wherein a Viper was by chance drowned, which the Reapers not being willing to drink themselves, gave him out of compassion thinking to kill him quickly, and rid him out of those grievous pains which he en∣dured; but that which they thought would be his death, became his life: for the drinking of the wine caused the scales and scurf of his flesh to fall, and re∣stored him to his health.* 1.21 Benivenius testifies, that he knew a Boy that was lame of both feet, in such sort that he could not goe without Crutches; but being struck with the plague, and recovering his health he remained sound of his feet, and without lameness. The same Author writes of a certain Architect, who had one leg shorter than the other, but falling from an high Tower he remained one leg as long as the other. Alexander Benedictus rehearseth,* 1.22 That he knew a blind man, who being wounded grievously in the head, recovered his sight. Rondelejus certifies, that a mad woman, having her head broken returned to her wits. Plutarch writes of one Promeheus, who had an ugly humour and swelling in his face, who having spent much money upon Surgeons and Physicians to little purpose, was by a wound, which his Enemy by chance gave him in the same place, perfectly cured, the hurt

leaving no blemish or deformity behind it. The inju∣ries done to Joseph by his brothers promoted him to the greatest honours of the Egyptian Empire. The heap of miseries, wherein holy Job was involved, con∣cluded in a double fortune and felicity. Jacob flying from his Countrey with no more wealth than a walk∣ing staffe returned rich and prosperous with a nume∣rous Family.

There is no drooping for unfortunate successes, since they often prove the beginning of great felicities; and oftentimes we may rejoyce for those evils, for which we have shed tears. But that we may more clearly perceive the mutability of things, and the hope we may entertain (even in the depth of our calamities) of a better condition, I shall here recount the Story of Marcus and Barbula two Roman Gentlemen.* 1.23 Marcus who was Praetor followed the Party of Brutus, and be∣ing overthrown with his Generall in the Philippian fields, and taken Prisoner feigned himself to be of base condition, and so was bought by Barbula for a Slave; who perceiving in him, notwithstanding his outward appearance, a deep judgement, great discretion, and a noble spirit, began to suspect him to be something else than what hs seemed; and calling him aside perswaded him to reveal who he was, assuring him that although he were one of the Rebels, he would not fail to pro∣cure his pardon. Marcus smiling assured him he was no such man: and Barbula to let him see how boot∣less it was to conceal who he was, told him he was resolved to carry him along with him to Rome, where he was certain to be discovered. Marcus answered, With all his heart: not doubting but the great change of his habit and condition would free him from the knowledge of any; but he found himself deceived; for he was no sooner arrived at Rome, but waiting upon his Master at the door of one of the Cousuls, he was known by a Roman Citizen, who immediately discovered him in secret to his Patron. Barbul••t hand∣led

the matter so discreetly, that without acquainting his counterseit Slave he went to Agrippa, by whose means he obtained a pardon from Augusts, who in short time became so well satisfied of Marcus, that he received him amongst his most private friends. Not long after Barbula, following the side of Mark Anthony, was taken in the Actiacan Warre, and unknown was likewise bought by Marcus amongst other Slaves. But so soon as it came to his knowledge that he was his ancient Master, he repaired unto Augustus, begged his pardon, and restored him unto his liberty: returning in the same manner the favour which he had received. Who sees not here those secret pipes by which bles∣sings are derived, and fortune changed? Marcus en∣joyed the dignity of a Praetor, was sodainly after a Slave, than a Friend of Caesars, and a redeemer of his redeemer, arriving at higher preferments by his slave∣ry and captivity, than by his birth and former digni∣ty. Whilest life lasts there is no mishap without hope: and affliction, although we look upon things within their own limits and natural disposition, come often home loaden with prosperities. But if we look upon them with that divine hope, which we ought to have, there is no evil from whence we may not derive a good. To what greater streights can one be brought than to be drawn forth to execution, and held guilty by the consent of all, as Susanna was? but in the very way to justice God raised her up a salvation both of life and honour, converting her unjust infamy into a great esteem and admiration of her vertue. What remedy for Daniel, when he was thrown into a Cave amongst hungry Lions? but where he expected to be devour∣ed by wild beasts, he found comfort. The three Chil∣dren, who were cast into the fiery Furnace in Babylon, where there was nothing to be hoped for but death, found refreshment, life, and content. David, when he was compassed in by the Souldiers of Saul, despaired of safety, yet escaped the danger. There is no evil in

this life, which even with the hopes of this life may not be asswaged: but with the hopes of the other who will not be comforted? Let us therefor onely fear eternal evils, which have neither comfort, hope, nor possibility of amendment.

CAP. III.

We ought to consider what we may come to be.

BUt that we may as little presume upon things fa∣vourable and succesful, as despair when they are averse and contrary, this excellent instruction may be drawn from their inconstancy, which is, Not to con∣fide at all in humane: prosperity: For neither King∣dome, Empire, Papacy, nor any greatness whatsoever can secure their Owners from ruine and misfortunes; and everyone ought with holy Job to confider What he may come to be. There is no fortune so high, unto which may not succeed a condition as low and disa∣strous. Let the great and rich man consider that all his wealth and power may fail, and he be driven to beg an alms. Let the King consider he may become a Mechanick Tradesman. Let the Emperor consider that even in his own Court he may be dragged forth to justice, and have dirt flung in his face, and be pub∣lickly executed. Let the Popes confider that some of them have been forced to kiss the feet of other Popes. These things seem incredible, and mortals are hardly drawn to believe them. But let no man wonder at the success of any, since not only Kings, Emperours, and Popes have been condemned, but Saints, and such, who by their holiness have wrought miracles, have fallen and been danmed in hell fire! Let us all there∣fore preserve our selves in humility▪ let us not con∣fide

in prosperity, nor presume upon our vertues though never so perfect, since every man is subject to fall into those misfortunes he little thinks of.

Who would imagine that so opprobrious affronts could befal a Roman Emperour as happened to Andro∣nicus? whose history I shall here relate to confirm that, which, if grave Authors had not reported, would seem incredible.* 1.24 Nicetas writes, and others bear him witness, That this Emperour in the third year of his reign was laid hold upon by his own Vassals; a strong chain and collar of iron, as if he had been some Ma∣stive dog, fastned about his neck: his hands manacled, and his feet fetter'd with heavy shackles: the most or∣dinary sort of people taunting him with bitter scoffs buffetted him upon the face, punched him upon the body, pluckt his beard from his chin, drew him up and down by the hair of his head, knockt out his teeth, and for his greater affront scourged him on those parts, where they use to whip children. After which they brought him into the publick Market-place, that all that would might abuse him: and even women buffetted him; which done they cut off hs right hand, hurried him into prison, and flung him into the common-hole, where the most notorious Theeves and Murtherers were lodged, leaving him nothing to feed on, or so much as any to give him a jarre of water. From thence some few dayes after they drew him forth, pluckt out one of his eyes, mounted him naked (saving a little short cloak which covered nothing almost of his body) upon a lean scabbed Ca∣mel, his face backward, holding the tayl in his hand instead of a Scepter, and a halter in place of a Diadem. In this equipage they brought him again into the Market-place, where the injuries, scorns, and igno∣minies put upon him by the rascal multitude are not imaginable. Some cast onions and rotten fruit at him, others prickt him in the sides with spits, others stufft his nostrils with filth and dung, others squeezed upon

his head and face sponges filled with urin and excre∣ments; some flung stones and dirt at him, and cal∣led him by most opprobrious names; and there want∣ed not an impudent baggage, who running into the Kitchen fetcht a pot of scalding water and threw in his face. There was no Tapster, Cobler, Tinker, or base Tradesman, which found not out some way or o∣ther to affront him. At last they hung him by the heels betwixt two pillars, and there left him to die. But then did not his own Courtiers and houshold Servants pardon him; one thrust his sword up to the hilts in his bowels: two others, to prove which had the sharp∣est sword, tried them in his flesh. At last the miserable Emperour (although most happy if he were saved) brought with much adoe that arm, which had lost the hand and yet ran with blood, to moisten his drie mouth, and so expired. In this manner ended the Mo∣narch of the East: but not yet his ignominy; for during three dayes after they suffered his dead body to hang upon the Gibbet, which was at last taken down more to free the living from horrour, than for compassion to the dead, whom they buried like a mad dog. Let eve∣ry one in this glass behold and consider what the things of this life are. Let him compare Andronicus with Andronicus, Andronicus Emperour and Augu∣stus with Andronicus a Prisoner and publickly execu∣ted; behold him first cloathed in Purple, adored by Nations, commanding the East, his temples encircled with a Royal Diadem, the Imperial Scepter in his hands, and his very shooes studdied with Oriental U∣nions; Then look upon him insulted over by the ba∣sest of his people, buffetted by women, and pelted with dirt and stones in his Imperial City. Who would believe that he, whom the people thronged to look upon as upon some God when he passed through the Streets of Constantinople in his Royal Chariot, covered with plates of burnisht gold, guarded with excellent Captains, and waited on by the Princes of his Em∣pire,

should by those very same persons, who so late∣ly had taken their oaths of loyalty, and sworn to de∣fend him, be so traiterously and barbarously handled? Finally, he who had commanded justice to pass upon so many, should himself come to be justized with grea∣ter infamy than any of them? who could imagine that one subject should be so sodainly capable of such diffe∣rent extremes, and that so great glory should conclude in so much ignominy? This is enough to make us con∣temn all temporal goods and humane felicity, which not onely passes away with time, but often changes into greater misfortunes. What esteem can that merit which stands exposed to so much misery: which is by so much more sensible to the sufferer, by how much it was less expected? To this may be added another consideration of no small profit, That if this Emperour passed to his salvation through so many affronts and cruel torments, what hurt did they do him? what imports it that he was so unhappy in this life, if he were happy in the other? certainly he gave suf∣ficient hopes of his contrition; for in all that lamen∣table and never to be paralell'd Tragedy no sign of impatience ever appeared in him, neither spake he o∣ther words than these, Lord have mercy on me; and when they abused and wounded him with so much cruelty, all he said was this, Why do ye break this brui∣sed Reed? Certainly, if he knew how to benefit him∣self (as it seems he did) by his misery, he was more happy in it, than in his Empire. The eternal is that which imports. As for the glory of his Empire, and the misery of his ignominy, they are now past.

A greater Emperour was Vitellius than he,* 1.25 since not only the East, but West acknowledged him for the Lord and Monarch of the whole World. The riches he en∣joyed were beyond estimation, and gold abounded with him, as stones of the Streets with others. In Rome he was acknowledged Augustus, and saluted with so glorious titles, that he seemed to be all he could desire

less than a God. But wherein ended all this Majesty, but in the greatest infamy that can be imagined? for having tyed a rope about his neck, and his hands be∣hinde him, torn his garments from his back, and stuck a dagger under his chin, they haled him ignominiously up and down the Streets of Rome, cast filth in his face, and reviled him with a thousand injurious speeches, and at last killed him in the Market-place, and threw him down the Gemonies, where they used to fling the bodies of such offenders as were not lawfully to be buried. A strange case, to what end some men are born, such care, trouble and circumspection in bringing on a life to conclude in so disastrous a death. He who should know the ends of Andronicus and Vitel∣lius, and should behold their birth, breeding, studies, pretences, and recreations, should see them clad in silk and gold, and acknowledged Emperours, Would he say in his heart, that so much adoe was necessary for such an end? Folly is all humane greatness, since at last it must end, and perhaps in so disastrous a conclusion. With reason did Pachimeras say; It was safer to trust to a shadow, than to humane happiness. Who could imagine that the Emperour Valerianus,* 1.26 whom the King of Persia taking prisoner kept inclosed in a Cage like some wilde beast, used him as a footstool when he got on horseback, and after flead his Souldiers and salted them, as if they had been bacon, could possibly come to such an end? Compare here the different condi∣tions that may happen to a Roman Emperour: Behold Valerianus mounted upon a brave Courser, trapped with Gold, clad in Purple, crowned with the Imperi∣al Diadem, adored by Nations, and commanding o∣ver Kingdoms: and after see the same man enclosed like a beast, and trodden under the foot of a barba∣rous King. Such contrary fortunes happen in humane life. Let us not therefore trust in it.

§ 2.

Yet less imaginable seems that which happened un∣to Pope John the XXIII. when after four years pos∣session of the Papacy, many Princes of Europe having during that time in token of obedience kissed his feet, he himself came to kiss the feet of another Pope; and having in his Pontificat created many Cardinals, took it at last as a singular favour to be made one himself. This seems incredible; but it is a most true history. The mutability of humane things produces so strange effects, that our imagination dares not feign them. Who would think that the chief Bishop should be made a Captive, as this was in the Council of Con∣stance assembled for the pacification of the Schisme then reigning in the Church? There he was deprived of his dignity, and himself confirmed his own deposition, and suffered in person great misery, want, and affliction; from whence he made an eseape, and fled from place to place, until at length he became so well advised as to put himself into the hands of Martin the Fifth, elected after his deposition, who had many Cardinals then about him created by this John, who beheld him, that had made them, deprived of all dignities, hum∣bly asking pardon of the new Pope, whom he ac∣knowledged for such., and esteemed it a great favour to receive his Hat anew. Thus far can the instability of Temporal goods arrive. Who could imagine that which happened unto the Emperour Zeno, who after he had possessed the Empire many years, cockered in all the blandishments of so high a fortune, was at last constrained through famine to eat his cloathes, and feed upon the flesh of his own armes? This Emperour being in a trance was given out to be dead, and so buried in a Vault, but returning afterwards unto him∣self he cried out aloud; named those of his Guard and his other Servants, who, though they heard him, would

not help him. There he remained interred alive, eat∣ing his own flesh, as witnesses Cedrenus.* 1.27 Who could believe such a misfortune? but the misery, wherein hu∣mane happiness often terminates, is not to be con∣ceived.

The glory and riches of Belisarius were greater than of many Kings.* 1.28 The World was amazed at his valour and courage: he overcame the Goths in many battails, and took their King prisoner: he made an end of the Vandals, and triumphed over ther captive King Gi∣lismer: he triumphed also in the East over the Persians. His wealth was so great, that in one hours space he gained all that the Vandals had scrapt together in four∣score years. Who could imagine that this so rich and glorious Captain should become a blind Begger, and beg an alms in the Church of St. Sophia, and other publick places? Dionysius the second possessed a weal∣thy Kingdom in Sicily.* 1.29 Who would thing that from a King he should be necessitated to become a School∣master? who would not wonder at the cozenage of the World, that should first see him in his Royal Pa∣lace with a Scepter in his hand, compassed about with his Servants, and the Great ones of his Kingdom, and should after behold him in his School managing a Rod in the middest of a number of boyes? What shall I say of King Adonibezee,* 1.30 who after the conquest of sea∣venty Kings died a Slave, and for his greater infamy, had the extremities of his hands and feet cut off? Spain afforded Queen Goswinda,* 1.31 beloved and esteemed by King Leovigildus her Husband, afterward publick∣ly executed and tormented in the Market-place of Toledo. Of no less marvail is that which happened unto the Empress Maria, Wife unto Otho the third, burnt by order of justice; which being a story of me∣mory, I shall relate it out of Godfridus Viterbiensis.* 1.32 These two Princes passing by Modena, the Em∣press became desperately enamoured of a young Count, much a Gentleman, and excellently accom∣plisht

in the lineaments of his body, but much more in the perfections of his mind, in so much as he neg∣lected and sleighted the violent addresses and sollici∣tations of this fond Princess; who perceiving her self mockt, full of choler and madness did, as Josephs Mi∣stress, cry out a Rape, and accused the innocent Count to the too credulous Emperour, that he would have forced her: who without much search into the business belived it, and caused him to be beheaded; which as soon as it came to the knowledge of his Countess, a Lady of an heroick and confident spirit, and fully satisfied of the goodness and innocency of her Husband, at such time as the Emperour gave au∣dience, she entred into the presence, and flinging down the head of her Husband before him accused him as an unjust Judge, and demanded justice of him against him∣self; and for proof of what she said, offered her self to the then usual tryal of burning iron: which being ac∣cepted, and the heated Iron put into her hands, she handled it as if it had been a Nosegay of flowers: which being seen by the Emperour, he confessed him∣self guilty; but the Countess not so satisfied cried out, that since he was faulty he ought to die, for that he had caused to be executed an innocent person; nei∣ther could she be contented, until the sentence was pronounced against the Empress (who was the Au∣thor of that mischief) to be burnt: which was ac∣cordingly executed upon this great princess, Wife to so potent an Emperour, and Daughter of the King of Arragon; for neither Crowns nor Scepters secure us from the inconstancy of humane changes. Well was it said by St. Gregory Nazianzen, that we may better trust unto the wind, or to letters written upon water, than unto humane felicity,

§ 3.

What we have hitherto recounted are changes, not falls. That which we are to fear is a fall from sancti∣ty and vertue, and this is properly to fall, when we descend from the state of grace to that of sin. The mu∣tations of fortune are but exchanges of one condition for another. No man can fall when he is at lowest; and the lowest and basest of all things is humane felicity, which when it quits us, we fall not, but change it, and perhaps for the better. The true falls are those which are spiritual; and it may with reason amaze us, to see that on this part also we are exposed to uncertainties. But this may be our comfort, that temporal changes are not in our hands, but spiritual are. Our wealth, whether we will or no, may be ta∣ken from us, but grace unless by our own fault can∣not. We may be bereaved of honours against our will, but not of vertue except we consent. Corporal goods may perish, be stoln, and lost a thousand manner of wayes: but spiritual goods can onely be forsaken, and are then onely lost, when we leave them by sin. This may make us tremble, that they are lost because we will lose them, and not being mutable in themselves they change because we are mutable. That which hath happened in this kind is most lamentable. St. Peter Damian writes that he knew a Monk in the Ci∣ty of Benevento, named Madelmo,* 1.33 who arrived at so great sanctity of life, that being upon a holy Saturday to fill a dozen of Lamps, and oyl failing for the lust, he with great faith filled it with water, and lighting it, it burned as the rest. Many other miracles he wrought in our Lord, for which he was in great esteem both of the Prince and Citizens. But wherein ended this miraculous and venerable man? a strange change. God withdrawing his holy hand from him, he fell into such dishonesty of life, that he was taken and publickly

whipt, and his head for his greater ignominy shaved like a Slave. A lamentable tragedy is the life of man, wherein we behold so contrary extremes.* 1.34 The same St. Peter Damian writes, that he knew in the same City a Priest of so great sanctity, that every day, when he celebrated Mass, the Prince of Benevento beheld an Angel descend from heaven, who took the Divine Mysteries from his hands to offer them unto the Lord. Yet this man so favoured from above fell into the like vice, that all might fear, and none be assured in any state whatsoever.

S. John Climacus relates the story of that young man,* 1.35 of whom we read in the Lives of the Fathers, who mounted unto so high a degree of vertue, that he commanded the wild Asses, and compell'd them to serve the Monks of the Monastery; whom blessed St. Anthony compared to a Ship laden with rich Mer∣chandize, sailing in the middest of the Ocean, whose end was uncertain. Afterwards this so fervent youth fell most miserably, and bewailing his sin, said unto some of the Monks who passed by, Speak unto the old man (that is St. Anthony) that he pray unto God, that he would grant me yet ten dayes of repentance. The holy man hearing this toar the hair from his head, and said, A great Pillar of the Church if fallen: and five dayes after the Monk died, in so much as he who heretofore commanded the wild beasts of the Wilder∣ness, became a scorn to the Devils, and he who pre∣served himself by bread from heaven, was afterward deprived of his spiritual sustenance.* 1.36 Lamentable also is the accident related by Heraclides of Hieron Alexan∣drinus, who having flourished many years in great vertue and fame of sanctity,* 1.37 left off all, and became a haunter of publick Stews. In the same manner Pto∣lomee the Egyptian having passed fifteen years in the Desert in continual prayer, sustaining himself only with bread, and the dew which fell from heaven, came to leave all, and lead a most scandalous life. If

we look into the holy Scriptures, we shall find greater changes, and more lamentable falls. Who would think that Saul chosen of God for very good, of an hum∣ble and patient spirit, should end in a Luciferian pride, and in a mortal hatred against the best man in Israel? Who would think that a man so wise, and so religious, as Salomon, should in his latter times be sedu∣ced by women, and erect Temples unto false Gods? Finally, who would imagine that an Apostle of Christ should die in despair and hang himself? What man can then presume so much of himself, that he needs not stand in fear of what he may be?

CAP. IV.

The change of humane things shews clearly their vanity, and how worthy they are to be con∣temned.

THis inconstancy and change of things serve as a testimony of their vanity. Witness those who have had the largest experience of humane greatness and felicity. Gilimer King of the Vandals was of great power, wealth and valour, but overcome by Belisari∣us, and deprived of his Kingdome, was led in triumph through the Streets of Constantinople. When he ap∣proached the place, where Justinian the Emperour was seated in a Throne of incomparable Majesty, cloathed in his Imperial Robes, and compassed with the great Princes of his Empire, the Captive King be∣holding him in so great glory, and himself a Slave, abandoned of the whole world, neither wept nor com∣plained, nor shewed the least sign of sorrow or resent∣ment,* 1.38 but onely uttered that most true sentence of the Wise-man, Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity. He who knew this, no marvail though in so great a mis∣fortune

he had drie eyes. For if he knew that all hu∣mane greatness was vanity, wherefore should he grieve for that which was nothing? That is not worthy of grief, which deserves not love. Things so mutable are those below, that as they merit not our affections when we enjoy them, so they ought not to vex and af∣flict us when we lose them. This apprehension was the cause of the great equality of mind, which this Prince exprest in all his actions, who was so far from shew∣ing any grief in the loss of his Kingdom and fortunes, that he rather seemed to laugh and rejoyce; and there∣fore when he was overthrown in battail, and forced to flye into Numidia, where he fortified himself in one of the Mountains, the Enemy besieging and streightning him with want of victuals, he sent to the Captain, who commanded in chief, to demand of him Bread, a Sponge, and a Cittern; Bread to sustain his life, which was now like to perish for want of food: a Sponge, to drie his eyes, for that having now en∣tred into the consideration of the vanity of humane things, and ashamed at his grief for the loss of them, he was resolved to change his passions, and rather laugh than weep: for what being possest afforded no security, the same being lost brought no prejudice; and to this end demanded a Cittern; for that ha∣ving wiped his eyes from their fruitless tears, he was now resolved to change his complaints into songs, and his grief into content, which consists not so much in the abundance of a great fortune, as in the sufficiency of a moderate. And with reason might he take the Cittern; for if he well considered, he might rejoyce even in his mishap, since his loss made him understand that deceit of the World, which his most ample Kingdom never could, and freed him not one∣ly from cares and troubles, but from sins, which in the prosperity of this life have a larger field, than in an adverse fortune. Possessed of this truth they took him prisoner, and brought him to the conquering Be∣lisarius.

The Captive King came with those expressi∣ons of joy and mirth, that the General seeing him laugh, whom he judged to have so great a cause of tears, thought his grief had distracted him, and that lie had lost his wits; but he never had them perfecter, since he laught at human greatness, and now perceived how ridiculous a thing is that which we call felicity, and in his heart rightly esteemed it, as it is, a vanity of vanities.

I believe the same judgement, which this King gave of the vanity of temporal things, would, if it had been askt, been given by the Emperour Andronicus when naked, and his head shaved like a Slave, he was in∣famously dragged thorow the Streets of Constantinople. What was then his Imperial Diadem? what his Throne and Majesty? what his Ornaments of gold and silver? All was vanity, and a vanity of vanities. Neither would this have been denied by Vitellius, when they threw dirt in his face, and haled him into the Market-place to be executed. What were then the Spectacles of the Amphitheater, and Games of the Cir∣cus, the Signiory of the World, but vanity of vanities, and universal vanity? The same would Craesus have preached from the flames, the Tyrant Bajazet from his Cage, King Bolislaus from his Kitchen, and Dio∣nysius from his School. If alive they would have said this upon the sight onely of the instability of this life, what would they now say upon the experience of eter∣nity, whereinto they are entred? Let us take the opi∣nion of those Princes which are damned, what they now think of the Majesty, which they enjoyed in this life; Vanity they will say it was, a smoke, a dream, a shadow. And without doubt those Kings, which are now in heaven in possession of those eternal joyes, will say the same, That all felicity here below, is poor, scarce and short, and vanity of vanities, and worse, if it have been an occasion of sin. But it is not need∣ful to call witnesses from the other life, since the vani∣ty

of this is so evident, that he who shall set himself to consider the greatness of this World, shall perceive that by how much it is more glorious, by so much it is more vain. What greater Majesty than that of the Roman Empire? Let us call to mind what happened in that. Scarce was the election of a Roman Emperour known before they, who chose him, or some more subtle or powerful than they, had murthered him. An although they studied nothing more than to pre∣serve themselves in the Imperial dignity, yet few there were that could effect it. Amongst nineteen or twenty Emperours, which passed betwixt Antoninus the Phi∣losopher, and Claudius the second, not one escaped a violent death, besides many other Tyrants, who took the names of Emperours; as in Galienus his time thirty usurped that title, and murthered one another: in so much as he who called himself an Emperour, was almost certain to die a violent death; so as the greatest felicity of the world was tyed to the greatest mishap. And it is to be wondered, that any (though almost forced) would accept the Diadem. But such is the folly of men, that having before their eyes so ma∣ny lamentable examples they gape after those glo∣ries, which hardly last from morning until night. Some of them had scarce been saluted Emperours, when they were cut in pieces. Aurelianus was one of those who exhibited the most glorious triumph that ever Rome beheld, where were shewed An infinite num∣ber of Captives from the three parts of the World, Many rare beasts, as Tygers, Lions, Ounces, Elephants, Dromidaries, A mighty quantity of Arms taken from the conquered Enemies, Three most sumptuous Cha∣riots, one of the King of Palmerins, another of the Persians, and a third of the Goths, Two who called themselves Emperours, and the great Queen Cenobia adorned with most precious jewels, and rich pearls, and fettered in chains of gold. He himself entred in a triumphal Chariot taken from the King of Gothes,

drawn by Stags, immediately followed by the conquer∣ing Army richly armed, crowned with Laurel, and carrying Palms in their hands. Never Emperour ar∣rived at such a height of glory. But how long lasted it? A short time after he was stabbed with poniards, having hardly time to take notice of his greatness, much less to enjoy it. By how many steps and strange ways did Aelias Pertinax in his old age climb unto the Imperial Throne, and lost it before it was known in the Empire that he commanded it? He was the Son of a Slave, and first a Merchant, by which he became a good accomptant; then he studied Grammar, and be∣came a Schoolmaster; after that a Lawyer, and having learned to defend causes, was made an Advocate; but not prospering by these courses he listed himself a Souldier. Neither seemed he in that to thrive much better: for being arrived to the dignity of a Centuri∣on he was cashiered with infamy. But he quitted it not so; for returning unto the same trade in process of time he became a Senatour: shortly after Consul, then President of Syria: at last when he expected the Hangman to take away his life, he was saluted Empe∣rour by those Souldiers, who then came fresh from the slaughter of Commodus. They entring his house by night, he told them, he was the man whom the Ty∣rant had sent them to murther: but they presented him the Scepter and Diadem, which he accepted al∣though then 70 years of age; and after had scarce warmed the Imperial Seat, having onely raigned three Moneths, when he was cut in pieces in a time he least suspected it, being so beloved, esteemed, and praised by the Romans, that every one would have spent a thousand lives to have saved his; yet notwithstanding a few Souldiers passed publickly through the middest of the City, and in the sight of all stabbed an Empe∣rour so beloved and honoured of the people, and re∣turned back without any so much as questioning them, when those of one street (so few were the murthe∣rers)

had been sufficient to have killed them with stones. Who sees not here the inconstancy and va∣nity of humane things, as well in the life as unex∣pected death of this Prince? by how many changes and windings did he climbe unto the top of the Impe∣rial greatness, and how sodainly without any stop or turn at all was he tumbled headlong down? how long was his fortune in growing, and how quickly cut? seaventy years of a prosperous life ended in the coun∣terfeit felicity of three Moneths, and the unhappy death of an hour. Then all is vanity of vanities, since that which costs so much, lasts so little, and death in less than one hour overthrows the fortune of seaventy years.

§. 2.

If the felicity of this life did onely end when life ends, yet that were sufficient to undervalue it, but it often ends before it, and sometimes changes into dis∣graces and mishaps, so as with our own eyes we of∣ten behold an end of our greatest fortunes. Let us not therefore trust in life, because it may fail whilest the goods of it remain, and let us as little trust in them, because they may likewise fail whilest it continues. Let this instability of things undeceive us, and let us seriously consider their vanity in their manner of leav∣ing us; which is excellently represented by St. John Chrysostome in the Eunuch Eutropius Patrician of Con∣stantinople,* 1.39 Consul and great Chamberlain to the Em∣perour Arcadius, who withdrawing his privacy and favour from him committed him to prison; which the holy Doctor admirably ponders in this manner.

If in any time, now more than ever may be said, Va∣nity of vanities; all is vanity. Where is now the splendour of the Consulat? where the Lictors and their Fasces? where the Applauses, Dances, Ban∣quets, and Revels? where the Crowns and Tape∣stry?

where the noise of the City, and the flatter∣ing acclamations of the Circus? all those things are perished; a boysterous wind hath blown away the leaves, and left the naked tree tottering, and almost pluckt up by the roots. Such was the violence of the storm, that when it had shaken all the nerves, it threatned utterly to overthrow the stock. Where are now those masking friends, those healths and suppers? where that swarm of Parasites, and that flood of wine poured out from morning till even∣ing? where that exquisite and various artifice of Cooks, those Servants accustomed to say and do all that pleased? All these were no more than a Nights dream, which disappeared with the day, Flowers which withered when the Spring was ended; a Shadow they were, and so they passed: a Smoke, and so they vanisht: Bubbles in the water, and so they burst: Spiders webs, and so were torn in sunder. Wherefore let us ever repeat this sen∣tence, Vanity of vanities; all is vanity. This saying ought to be written upon our Walls, Market-places, Houses, Streets, Windows, Gates, but principally in the Conscience of every one, since the deceitful employments of this life, and the enemies of truth have gained too much power and authority with many. This is it which one man ought to say unto another; this is it we ought to say at dinner, at supper, and in all our conversation, Vanity of vani∣ties, all is vanity. Did I not daily tell thee that rich∣es were flitting and deceitful? but thou wouldest not endure me. Did not I tell thee, they had the condition of a fugitive Slave? but thou wouldest not believe me. See how experience hath taught thee, that they are not onely fugitive, but ungrateful and murthering, since they have cast thee into this exi∣gent. But because this Eunuch would neither be ad∣vised by the counsel of his Domesticks, nor Strangers, do thou at least, who art puffed up with wealth and

honours, make use of this calamity, and turn it to thy own profit. There is nothing more infirm than humane things. By what name soever thou shalt express their baseness, thou shalt still fall short. Call them hay, smoke, a dream, flowers which wither: all is too little: they are so frail, that they are more nothing, than nothing it self. They are not only no∣thing, but are still in precipitation. Who was more exalted than this man? was he not famous for his wealth through the world? was he not mounted up to the height of all humane honour? Did not all fear and reverence him? But behold him now more miserable than Slaves and Bond-men, more indi∣gent, than those who beg their bread from door to door. There is no day, wherein are not set before his eyes Swords drawn and sharpened to cut his throat; Precipices, Hangmen, and the Street, which lead to the Gallows. Neither doth he enjoy the memory of his pad pleasures, nor the common light, but is at midday as in a dark night, pen'd up betwixt four walls, deprived of the use of his eyes. But where∣fore do I remember those things, since no words are able to express the fear of his mind, who every hour expects his punishment? to what end are my speeches, when the image of his calamity appears so evidently before thine eyes? Not long agoe the Emperour having sent some Souldiers to draw him out of the Church, whither he was fled for sanctua∣ry, he became as pale as box, and at this instant hath no better colour than one who were dead. To this add that his teeth gnash against one another, his body quakes, his voice is broken with sobbs, his tongue stammers; in conclusion he stands like one, whose soul were frozen for fear within him.

All this is from St. John Chrysostome. It is not needful to attend the end of life to see the imposture of it. It is enough to see the alterations whilest it lasts.

CAP. V.

The baseness and disorder of Temporal things: and how great a Monster men have made the World.

LEt us now come to consider the baseness of all that which passes in time; the which appeared so mean and poor unto Marcus Aurelius, that he said,* 1.40

Those things which fall under sense, which either allure us with delight, or deject us with grief, or glitter with outward pomp and appearance, how vile are they all? how worthy of contempt? how sordid and filthy? how subject to perish, and how dead?

This said that great Emperour and Mo∣narch of the World, when the Roman Empire was in its greatest power and lustre, and in the greatest ex∣perience of the goods of the earth, being more power∣ful, and having more command of them, than Salo∣mon: and yet he not onely sayes they were vain, but vile, filthy, contemptible and dead. That we may un∣derstand this better, let us look into the substance and being, which temporal things have of themselves, without respect either to the shortness of their dura∣tion, or to the variety of their changes, for which a∣lone, although in themselves most precious, yet were they most despicable; but being so little, so vile, so dis∣orderly, and for the most part so hurtful and preju∣dicial unto us, although they were eternal, yet ought they to be contemned. We are not therefore onely to look upon that littleness and poorness, which they have by nature, and from themselves, but upon the evil, which they have acquired by our abuse; For the World, which of it self were tolerable, is by us made such, that it is not to be endured even by those

who best love it. And to those natural goods, which it affords, our unstable appetite hath added such arti∣ficial fopperies of our own inventions, that of both together we have composed a Monster, no less hor∣rible, than that described by St. John in the Apocalyps.* 1.41 And therefore he that will see what worldly felicity is, let him cast his eyes upon that Beast, which for his unquietness and unconstancy is said to rise out of the sea. He had the head and face of a Lion, the bo∣dy of a Leopard a Beast various and spotted, and the feet of a Bear: and for his more deformity he had sea∣ven heads and ten horns. This the lively Image of that which passes in the World. For as this Monster is composed of three savage Beasts, of a Bear, which is carnal and luxurious, of a Leopard, whose skin is full of eyes, and of a Lion the proudest of all other Beasts: so in the World there is no other thing, as St. John saith,* 1.42 but the Concupiscence of the flesh, the Concupiscence of the eyes, and the Pride of life, that is, Lust and exorbitancy in pleasures, Covetousness and gaping after riches, Ambition and desire of ho∣nours. Of those three Monsters is composed the Mon∣ster of Monsters, which we call the World: the which hath also his seaven heads and ten horns, to wit, the Seaven deadly Sins, by which are impugned the ten Commandments, and the observation of the whole Law of God.

Let us also consider the mysterious disposition of the parts of this Beast. The feet are said to be of a Bear, the body of a Leopard, and the head of a Lion, because all the inventions, additions, stratagems, and designs of the World are founded upon the pleasure and delights of the appetite, which are natural: and upon this foundation our malice has builded riches, and honours which are not natural, but humane in∣ventions. Riches are the body of the World, and up∣on them is raised Pride as the head of that body. Be∣sides Riches are most conveniently placed in the mid∣dle

between Pleasure and Honours, as being necessary for the supportation of both, without which neither can be maintained. Avarice therefore forms the body of this Beast, that it may equally nourish Pleasure and Ambition. Let us then propose unto our selves the Image of this World under the form of this Monster and Chimaera, as well to demonstrate the confusion and turmoyl of it, as to signifie unto us, that the whole substance and being of it consists meerly in the imagi∣nation and apparence. For such a Monster composed of the several parts of divers Beasts, which hath no being or foundation in reason, but is onely framed by the fancy, the Philosophers call a Chimaera; and such truly are the things of this World, inconstant, confused and troubled, and have no substance or being in them∣selves, but are onely deceit and apparence. Some seem great, and are but little: others cozen us more, appear to be goods, and are really evils. To understand this better and know the vanity of the World, we are to suppose that humane malice hath corrupted and poisoned it by inventing new gusts and pleasures: unto which we have added by our imagination what they wanted of being and reality: and by diverting things from those proper ends, for which they were ordain∣ed, have made them all vain, and the World a Mon∣ster of many heads; for the head of things is, as Philo calls it, the end, and the things of the World having left their utmost and true end, which is one God, and disordered themselves by the many ends of particular vices, have made that Beast, which is said not to have one but many heads, which makes it so monstrous and deformed. Men follow not in the use of things their proper end, which is to please and serve God, but aim at the serving of their passions, and satisfie their appetites: which as they are divers, so they have divers ends and respects; from whence results the monstrosity of so many heads, and faces. From the multitude then of ends follows this deformity, which

includes and is alwayes accompanied with vanity. For the world following this vanity of adulterate ends, contrary to reason and nature, leaves the true and lawful end, which is the service of God; and that which leaves its proper end becomes useless and vain. If you should blind the eyes of some excellent Marks∣man, his art and skill were lost, and his Bow would become unprofitable, because he remained deprived of that, by which he was to attain his end. So all things being created to this end, that man by them might serve God, this end wanting, they became vain and useless. By this example may be clearly seen how vain is the World, since it doth not direct those things it enjoyes for the service of the universal Creatour, but for other vain and imaginary ends, by which it be∣comes wholly it self a vanity? The multitude of Gold, Silver, Plate, Jewels, precious Furniture, and other Ornaments which we glory in, are they perhaps for the service of God? Let St. Alexius tell us, whether he chose them as means to that end; and if they be not for the service of the Lord of all, what are they all but vanity? Abundance of Delights, Masques, Dances, Feasts, Entertainments, are they perhaps to please God? Let St. Bruno tell us; and if they be not for that purpose, what are they all but vanity? Majesty, ostentation of Titles and Honours, are they perhaps for the service of God? Let St. Josaphat tell us; who fled from his Temporal Kingdom, that he might bet∣ter apply himself unto the service of the King of Hea∣ven. Vain is all the greatness of the Earth, if that of Heaven be not gained by it. The most precious thing failing, which is the right end, all besides becomes vain, frivolous, and of no esteem.

§. 2.

This deviation and wandering of worldly things from their proper and due end is sufficient to declare

their vanity and disorder. But there is yet another er∣rour in them, which makes them appear much more vain, which is, that they not onely goe astray from their first and great end, which is the service of God, but also fail, and hold no proportion with that second end, which humane vices propose unto them here. That which our appetite pretends in Riches, Pomp and Honours, which it hath invented, is the felicity of this life: and to that they are so little proper, as they have rather disposed things for our misery and torment; and therefore vain are all our fancies and inventions. To maintain and uphold our honour, what Lawes, Rights, and irregular Customs hath the World invented to the great danger of our lives, and the hinderance of our pleasures? It hath made honour so brittle, that with one word whosoever list may take it from us, which is the occasion, that many live dishonoured; and if they will recover it, it must cost their lives, fortunes, or quiet. What greater madness than that the thing, which they have made of the greatest esteem in the World, should be subject to such an inconvenience; and of so cursed a condition, that it is very easie to lose, and most difficult to regain: that any one may bereave us of it, and he which hath ta∣ken it from us, cannot restore it: that it is in another mans hand to destroy it, and not in our own to repair it? What law in the World more unjust, that if an infamous person give thee the lye, thou remainest dis∣honoured, although he lied, that gave it: and that ho∣nour which he by one word hath taken from thee, thou canst not recover by another? What greater fol∣ly than to fight for honour, and maintain truth by quarrelling, as if he were the most honourable person and spake the truest, which were the strongest, especi∣ally being so prejudicial to the most vertuous? for it commonly happens that those who have the clearest, wits, the noblest souls, and the most constant and sound judgements, have the weakest bodies. Finally in this

matter of honour men have invented such lawes, such punctilioes, such impertinent formalities, that if they were all truely and really mad, they could not have done more absurdly. For what is madness, but to doe things without proportion, order, or reason? which since the World does, we must conclude it vain, sense∣less, and foolish.

Coming then to Riches, which were invented for the ease and commodity of life, humane malice hath made them such, as they serve for our greater trouble and vexation. For he that is rich, will not onely be rich himself, but must have all he hath so too. He is not content with having a good Garment, unless his walls be with curious Pictures, rich Tapestries, preci∣ous Cabinets, and other rarities better clad than him∣self, which serve not for warmth or use, but onely for shew and appearance. From whence it happens that he, who hath most wealth, hath most want, be∣cause he not only needs for himself, but for all which he possesseth: so that he, who hath a great house, hath the same necessities that his house, which are many: for a great house requires much furniture, and a large Family, and so charges the Master with multitudes of Servants, great quantities of Plate, Hangings and other Ornaments superfluous to use and humane commodi∣ty; in so much as none are more poor than the rich: because they want not onely for themselves, but for all that is theirs. At least riches want not this incom∣modity, that although they were invented for humane use and ease, yet he that hath them in the greatest a∣bundance hath the greatest cares, troubles, envies, dangers, and ever the greatest losses.

The same disorder and abuse happens in divers o∣ther particulars, which at first were invented for a comfort, and remedy of our wants, but are now be∣come a burthen and trouble unto us. Our Garments, which were for necessity, are now worn for ornament, and using them for other ends than they were de∣signed,

they become our vexations. A girdle or a shooe too much streightned afflicts the body and hinders us in divers actions: bravery, gold-chains, and other needless ornaments burthen us.* 1.43 Wherefore St. Am∣brose saith,

A weighty Chain of gold about the neck, or stumbling Chapines upon the feet, serve as a pu∣nishment unto women, as if they were some great offenders; for in respect of the pain and weight, with which they grieve those who wear them, what mat∣ters it, whether they be of gold or iron? both equally oppress their necks, and hinder their going. The price and value of the gold eases nothing: nay ra∣ther adds to their trouble in respect of the fear they live in, lest they should loose them, or that some should against their wills free them of their pain and trouble. According to this it little im∣ports whether the pain be inflicted by our own sen∣tence, (as the women in this case pass it against themselves) or by the award of others, as against offenders. Onely women are in this in the more miserable condition, since others desire to be freed and eased of their fetters and imprisonment, and they to the contrary desire still to be subject and tyed unto theirs.

This from St. Ambrose. Our food also, which is given by nature for the sustentation of our lives, humane malice hath by the invention of new dainties and various wayes of Cookery to please the pallat, made destructive both to the life and taste: Those new infirmities and sharp griefs, whereof the World is full, being occasioned, as the Physicians af∣firm, by our disorderly diet and multiplicity of new devised dishes. Hector Boetius in his second Book of the History of the Scots, saith,

Our Ancestors knew not those several sorts of infirmities, which we see in our age; anciently scarce any fell sick but of the stone, abundance of flegm, or some other infirmity proceeding from cold or moisture; They lived well, and their spare diet preserved their bodies from dis∣eases,

and enlarged their lives for many years. But now of late, since we have forsaken our Country food, and given our selves to the curious seeding of other Nations, strange diseases have entred with strange dishes.

And in his ninth Book he saith, that they knew not plagues, nor sharp and violent Fevers so long as they preserved their ancient diet.

This separation and wandring of worldly things from their principal and chief end, which is God, causes such a distance betwixt them and reason, that therefore they become a Monster; and so St. John ve∣ry fitly paints the World in the figure of this Monster with seaven heads of a beast, and none of a man. For if that man were monstrous, which had no humane head, but seaven of brutish creatures, no less Monster is the World, which wants the natural end, and head, which is God, whom it ought to seek according to reason, and not pursue those false and adulterate ends which are contrary to it. The World wants the head of a man, because it doth not order it self according to the end of reason; and it retains the heads of beasts, because it is guided by passion, appetite, and the like, which are the ends of beasts. If we shall then behold the great vanity of things together with the multitude of vices, wherein men have involved them, and dai∣ly make them worse, to whom can this beast irritated with so many sharp goads, as are our sins, be tolera∣ble? What injustice is not committed? what flattery not insinuated? what cozenage not attempted? And what revenge not executed? Avarice disquiets all, Luxury corrupts it, and Ambition treads it under foot.

From what is said it follows, that the things of this World, represented unto us by St. John under the figure of those three fierce and cruel beasts, are accord∣ing to our disorderly manner of using them much pre∣judicial and hurtful both to our souls and bodies. And if we should behold them as they lye hidden un∣der

that appearance of pleasure, which they feign and counterfeit, we should be affrighted, as if we had seen Lions, or Tygers, which would tear us in pieces, or Serpents, which would sting and poison us; And the like unto that, which was done by the Servant of God, Volcon, would happen unto us.* 1.44 This man was a holy Priest, and very zealous and desirous to draw a certain rich man to the service of God. He took his occasion by coming one day to dinner unto him, and entring the house he said, Sir, what have we to eat? The rich man replyed, Trouble not your self, you shall eat the best the Town affords. The holy man went streight to the Kitchin accompanied with many others who followed him, and calling the Cook, com∣manded him to bring forth those dishes which were provided. An admirable thing. No sooner were they brought in and uncovered, but the Capons, Pheasants, Peacocks, and other dainties turned into Toads and Serpents, with which the rich man remained amazed, and was taught, that to give himself over to gluttony, and the immoderate pleasure of his taste, was no less hurtful for him, than to feed on poisonful creatures, or to have to do with Lions, Serpents, and Tygers. And it is certain, that Lions and the most furious beasts have not kill'd so many, as have died by sur∣feits and pleasing too much their pallats.

CAP. VI.

Of the littleness of things Temporal.

SEtting aside how vain the things of this World are, let us particularly consider how little they are, and we shall perceive that though their vanity, which swells and blows them up, seems to extend them, yet they are in themselves poor, short and little, especially

if we compare them with things eternal. Beginning therefore with that temporal good, which seems to have the greatest bulk; and makes the greatest noise, to wit Honour, Fame and Renown, we shall see how narrow it is. Men desire that their fame should ring through the whole World, and that all should know their names; and if they did, what are all in respect of those in the other World, since the whole Earth in respect of the Heavens is but a point? But who is he that can be known of all who live? Millions of men, there are in the World, who know not whether there be an Emperour of Germany, or a King of Spain. Let no man then afflict himself for this vain honour; for even in his own Country all shall not know him. Ma∣ny thousand years are past, and no man knew thee, and of those, who shall be born hereafter, few shall re∣member thee: and although thou remainest in the memory of those, yet they also in the end must die, and with them thine and their own memory must pe∣rish, and thou shalt, as before thou wert, continue a whole eternity without being known or celebrated by any. And even now, whilest thou livest, there are not many who know thee, and of those most of them so bad, that thou oughtest to be ashamed, that such mouthes should praise thee, who speak ill even of one another. Wherefore then doest thou torment thy self for a thing so short, so vile, and so vain? All these things are so certain, that even the Gentils acknow∣ledged them. Hear onely one, who was placed in the highest degree of glory and dignity in the whole World,* 1.45 since he was Lord of it, the Emperour Mar∣cus Antoninus, who speaks in this manner.

Perhaps thou art sollicitous of honour. Behold how quickly oblivion blots out all things. Behold a Chaos of e∣ternity both before and after. How vain is the noise of fame? how great inconstancie, and uncertainty of humane judgements and opinions? in how nar∣row a compass are all things inclosed? The World

is but a point: and of it how small a corner is in∣habited, and who and how many are those in it who are to praise thee? And a little after he adds: He who desires fame and honour after death, thinks not that he, who is to remember him, shall shortly die also, and in the same manner he who is to suc∣ceed after him, untill that all memory, which is to be propagated by mortal men, be blotted out. But suppose that those, who are to remember thee, were immortal, what could it import thee being dead? nay even alive what could it profit thee to be prai∣sed? all that is fair, is fair of it self, and is perfected within it self, and to be praised is no part of the beauty. He therefore who is celebrated is for that reason neither better nor worse.

These Antidotes are drawn by the Pagan Prince against the poison of ambition. Why therefore should we Christians esteem any honour but that of God?

What shall I say of the vanity of those titles, which many have assumed against all reason and justice, one∣ly to make themselves known in the World? Let us judge how it will fare with us of Europe by those, who have taken titles upon them in Asia. For if the fame of those in Asia arrive not to the knowledge of us in Europe, no more shall ours in Europe to theirs in Asia. The name of Echebar was thought by his Subjects to be eternal, and that all the World did not only know,* 1.46 but fear him. But ask here in Europe, who he was, and no man hath heard of him; and demand now of the most learned, and few shall resolve you, unless perchance he find here in my writing, that he raigned in Mogor. How few have heard of the name of Ven∣catapadino Ragiu? he imagined that there was no man in the World, who knew him not. The same thought had his Servants, and called him, The Lord of Kings, and supreme Emperour. The titles which he arroga∣ted to himself, and put in his Edicts were these: The Spouse of good fortune, King of great Provinces,

King of the greatest Kings, and God of Kings, Lord of all the Horsemen, Master of those who cannot speak, Em∣perour of three Emperours, Conquerour of all he sees, and Preserver of all he conquers, Formidable unto the eight Regions of the World, Lord of the Provinces which he overcomes, Destroyer of the Mahometan Armies, Dis∣poser of the riches of Zeilan, He who cut off the head of the invincible Viravalano, Lord of the East, South, North, and West, and of the Sea, Hunter of Elephants, He that lives and glories in his military valour. These titles of honour are enjoyed by the most excellent in war∣like forces Vencatapadino Ragiu, which rules and governs this World. How many can tell me, before I declare it here, that he was the King of Narsinga? If then these warlike and potent Princes are not known in Europe, No more shall Charles the Fift, and the Grand Captain, and many other Excellent men in arms and litterature, which have flourished in these parts, be known in Asia and Africa.

If we shall reflect upon the truth of those titles, which many arrogate unto themselves, we shall per∣ceive them all to be vain. How many are called High∣ness and Excellence, who are of a base and abject spirit, and continue in mortal sin, which is the mean∣est and lowest thing in the World? How many are called Screnissimi, who have their understanding darkened, and their will perverted? Others call them∣selves most Magnificent, with as much reason as Nero might be called most Clement. This vanity hath pro∣ceeded so far, that men have not feared to usurp those titles, which only belong to God, and have thereupon raised, great warres, and slain innumerable people. Wherefore St. John said, that the Beast which rose out of the Sea, had upon his head names of Blasphe∣my; and afterwards that the purple Beast was full of names of Blasphemy in regard of the blood that hath been spilt in the World for those vain titles, and some of them contrary unto the essence of God, as the calling

of Rome Eternal, and deifying her Emperours, which was no better than blasphemy. The things wherein we have placed honour makes it most ridiculous. Some think they should be valued and esteemed because they are strong: not remembring that a Bear, a Bull, or a Sumpter-mule is stronger than they. Some because they are richly clad become mighty proud and puft up, not being ashamed to be more esteemed for the work of a Mechanick Taylor, than for their vertuous acti∣ons. Others think to be honoured for their disho∣nours, bragging of their vices, murthers, and adulte∣ries. Others boast of the nobility of their blood, with∣out looking upon vertue, and so make that a vice, which was to oblige them to noble actions, convert∣ing that which was to be their honour into infamy, valuing themselves more for being noble, than being Christians. A man is no greater than what he is in the eyes of God; and the estimation which God hath of us is not for being born in a Palace, but for being reborn in the water of Baptism. What comparison is there betwixt being born of noble linage, and being born from the side of Christ Jesus? The penitent Vir∣gin Donna Sancha Carillo so often as she assisted at Baptisms beheld Christ upon the Cross,* 1.47 with his side open, and the Child issuing forth: giving us to under∣stand the new birth we receive from the blood of Christ in our Christianity, for which God esteems men more than for being born of sinful blood. This birth is of dishonour, that of honour; this of sin, that of holiness; this of the flesh which kills, that of the spi∣rit which quickneth; by this we are the sons of men, by that of God; by the birth of the flesh we are heirs of our fathers fortunes, but much more of their mise∣ries, for we are born sinners; by the birth of Bap∣tism we are the heirs of heaven, and for the present we receive grace, and for the future glory. What an errour is it then to value our selves more for our hu∣mane birth, by which we are made sinners, than for

our divine birth, by which we are made just? How foolish were he, who being the Son of a King and a Bond-woman should esteem himself more for being the Son of a Slave than of a Monarch? More fool is he who values more the nobility of his blood in be∣ing a Gentleman, than the nobility of his soul in being a Christian. Finally all honours of the earth are but such, as Matathias told his Sons, dung and corruption. St. Anselme compares those who seek after honours, to boyes who hunt after butter-flies: Isaias unto spiders, which disimbowel themselves in framing a web, which is broken by the flies. Yet for all this poorness and baseness of honours many souls have perished by them. If David cursed the mountains of Gelboe because Saul and Jonathan died upon them, with much more rea∣son may we curse the high mountains of honour, up∣on which so many Souls have been seen to perish?

§ 2.

Let us now consider what Riches are, unto whom St. Gregory Nazianzen did much honour, when he called them a precious dung. Truely in themselves they are not much better. Gold and Silver, said Anto∣ninus the Philosopher,* 1.48 were nothing else than excre∣ments and dregs of the Earth: that precious Marbles were as corns and seggs in the feet; and generally he sayes of the matter of all these things, that they are nothing but dust and corruption. Plotinus said that Gold was nothing else but a viscuous water: others that it was yellow earth. What are Precious stones, but shining pibles, some red, some green, &c? Silk, but the slaverings of worms? the finest Hollands and purest Linnens, but threads of certain plants? Other webbs of esteem are made of hair of beasts: whereof if we should meet one in our meat, would make us loath it: and many in their cloaths are proud of them. Curious Furres what are they, but the skins of contemptible

vermin? Civet, but the sweat of a Cat near his most noisom parts? Amber, but the uncleanness of a Whale, or something which the Sea purges from it as not worthy to be preserved? Musk, but the putrified and congealed blood of a poor Beast? What are Possessi∣ons, Palaces, Cities, Provinces and spacious Kingdoms? They are indeed onely toyes of men, who, though old, are but Children in esteeming so much of them; and this I say not comparing them with things eternal. Lucian beholding them not from the Empyrial Heaven,* 1.49 but from the Sphere of the Moon, said, All Greece possest not above four fingers: and that Peloponesus was not bigger than a Lentil seed. To Seneca the whole compass of the Earth seemed but a Point; and all the greatness there onely matter of sport.* 1.50 St. Chry∣sostome more seriously looking upon the so much esteemed greatness of this World, the brave Palaces, renowned Cities, large Kingdoms, compares them to those little houses of sand or dirt made by Children for their entertainment; which men stand by and laugh at, and oftentimes, if their Parents or Masters find that it hinders them from learning of their les∣sons, they strike them down with their feet, and de∣stroy that in a moment, which hath cost the boyes much time and labour. So God useth to deal with those, who neglecting his service employ themselves in scraping together riches, enlarging their possessions, building of Palaces, strong Forts, and walled Towns, which he destroys with that ease, as if they were those little houses of sand made by Children. And certainly more Children are they who set their hearts upon the greatness of this short life, than those who busie them∣selves in walls of dirt. This is of St. John Chryso∣stome; * 1.51 Who in another place saith, That if looking up∣on a Table, where we behold painted a rich and pow∣erful man, and a poor and contemptible Beggar, we neither envy the one nor despise the other, because we know them to be shadows and no truth: The

same judgement we ought to make of the things them∣selves: for all according to Scripture are little more than nothing. And as in a Comedy or Farse it im∣ports little who playes Alexander, and who the Beg∣gar, since all are equal when the Play is done: So are all after death. If Herod offered to a dancing Girl, because she pleased him, the half of his Kingdom, what was the whole worth? And Aman, who posses∣sed great wealth, confessed he valued them as nothing so long as Mardocchus did not reverence him.

The pleasures of our Pallat (if we consider them) what more vile, and nasty? A Capon, a Hen, or a Duck, which is the ordinary food of rich men, if we but observe their feeding, nothing would be more loathsome. If in your Cooking you should fling into the pot worms, grubs, horse-dung, and other such stuff, no body I believe would eat of it; and what is a Hen but a vessel fill'd with such uncleanness? Other meats which are most coveted by our sensual Belly-gods, if they should behold by what they are nourished would cause a loathing. The Lamprey, which was the deli∣cacy of the Romans, feeds but upon mud and sluch. There is no meat more neat and clean, than bread, hearbs, and water, the food of Penitents.

How narrow is the Sphere of all our pleasures, which, besides the short time that they endure, are mingled with wormwood of many pains and griefs, which accompany, precede, and follow them? The Adulterer how many troubles and dangers does he usu∣ally pass before he compass his desire? in the enjoying what fears and suspicions assault him? and when it is past, (if he think seriously of the sin) what remorse and repentance afflict him? and oftentimes how ma∣ny long diseases and sharp pains succeed that which lasted but a moment? Let us compare our pleasures with the griefs which follow them, and we shall find those far to surpass the other. The several sorts of gusts, whereof the touch is capable, exceed not two

or three; but the dictinct sorts of pains, which afflict it, are without number: The pain of the Sciatica, the Stone, the Gout, the Tooth-ach, the Head-ach, be∣sides innumerable other griefs and violences most in∣tense and horrible, which follow the tortures invent∣ed by Tyrants. The greatest pleasure of the sense holds no comparison with the grief endured by the separation of a member, or the pain suffered by him, who hath the Stone, Sciatica, or some violent dis∣ease in extremity.

§ 3.

Well may be seen the poverty and insufficiency of the pleasures of this life, in that our appetite still strives to enlarge them by inventing new and artificial enter∣tainments, which by their multitude may supply the defects of those which are natural. Well may appear the irksome weariness of this life by all our endea∣vours, which aym at nothing more, than to give it some ease and relief. How many kinds of curious Stuffs have been woven to please us in our Garments? what diversitie of easie Beds and Couches have been found out? what close Chairs, Litters, and Coaches have with excessive cost and charges been invented? and the invention of them is no sooner known, but we pur∣sue it with that pride and haste, that they esteem themselves unhappy, who enjoy them last, although their use be no wayes necessary.* 1.52 The Bishop of Pam∣pelona, Historiographer to Charles the Fift, writes that in the year 1546 there were no Coaches in Spain: and that much about the same time one being brought thither for the Emperours own person, whole Cities ran out to see it, and admired it as if it had been a Centaure or some Monster. And now what more fre∣quent? The invention, because easie, was so plea∣sing, that in few years people of very ordinary con∣dition began to use them: in so much as it was thought

fit within a very short time after to prohibit them; which is more to be admired in respect of the simple and homely way which a little before was used by the most eminent persons. They write of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, who for wealth and nobility is one of the greatest in Spain, that when he and the Dutchess went to visit our Ladies de Regla, a Church of great devotion in Andalusia, they went in a Cart drawn with Oxen, the which was in the year 1540. Shortly after within five or six years came the Coach into Spain whereof we have spoken, and within nine or ten years there was such a multitude of them, that by a publick Edict in the year 1577 all Coaches with two horses were forbidden, because many of inferiour condition used them both to the destruction of many serviceable horses, and to the prejudice of their own wealth and modesty. With such haste doth our hu∣mane appetite run after what it conceives commodi∣ous, piecing out with art that which seemed short in nature. The same happened, as Dio Cassius reports, with Litters, which were brought into Rome in the time of Julius Caesar: but quickly, as Suetonius re∣ports, it was necessary for the same Julius Caesar to forbid them.

The same hath and doth pass in costly Apparel, which is so equal a disorder, that Tully doubts, whe∣ther is more indecent for the nature of man, The use of Coaches, or the curiosity of Garments, and calls them both impudent and shameless; And truely, as they are used by many, they are no less. The same Cicero said, that the Roman Souldiers counted their Arms as the members of their bodies, because they were no less troubled with the loss of the one than the other. The same account many make of their neat and curious garments: and are no less sensible if their cloathes chance to be disordered, than if they had a member broken or out of joynt. Macrobius writes of Quintus Hortensius a Roman Senatour, that

he was so curious in ordering his Garments by a large Looking-glass made on purpose, and disposing the plates of his Gown, which he gathered after into a quaint knot after the Roman fashion, that being Con∣sul, and going into the Forum in all this nice formali∣ty, accompanied with his Collegue, it happened that in a great press and croud of people his fellow Con∣sul chanced to disorder a little the plates of his Gown: which he took so hainously, that he commenced an action of offence against him, which the Romans cal∣led de Injuria, as if he had broken his arm or some o∣ther member. What shall I say of Ornaments so cost∣ly and so foolish, that even the World it self seems to condemn them, in regard that being now glutted with the Garnitures of silk and gold, it falls to make Em∣broideries of straw: as if it had already learnt and understood, that for the use of Garments it is one and the same thing to adorn them with straw, as with gold and silver; and for this reason Laces and Points made of straw are made use of in lieu of gold and silver?

But after the divers Inventions of Apparel, who can reckon the several wayes invented to please our senses? The mixture of several Meats for the taste? the confection of Sweet-pasts and Persumes for the smell? the melodious Musick of diver; Instruments for the hearing? the Games, Pictures, and Shows for the sight, which Entertainments have been exhibited even with the spilling of humane blood? Witness the Gla∣diators of Rome, and the Bulls of Spain. All this va∣riety of pleasures, which the appetite hath invented, are an evident signe of the poverty and insufficiency of nature, since all this multitude of artificial contents doth not satisfie it, nor in any sort equal our natural griefs.

For so sleight a matter is lost a thing so great, as is Eternity. For these we abolish the Law of God from our hearts, and displease our Redeemer, who

would reward the contempt of those poor and transi∣tory pleasures of the earth with great and special fa∣vours from heaven. If we will not therefore despise them for what they are in themselves, let us at least mortifie our affections for what is promised us hereaf∣ter, and because it is most agreeable to God, and pro∣fitable for our selves, as may appear by this story re∣lated by Glycas. * 1.53 A certain Anchorite had lived forty years in the desert, retired wholly from the world, and applying himself with great observance of his pro∣fession to the salvation of his Soul. A desire at last en∣tred into his minde to know who in the world was equal to himself in mortification. Whereupon he be∣sought God to reveal it unto him; and it pleased his Divine Majesty to grant his request, and it was an∣swered him from heaven, that the Emperour Theod••∣sius, notwithstanding that he was Master of the great∣est glory of the World, yet was neither inferiour un∣to him in humility, nor in overcoming himself. The Hermite with this answer moved by God repaired unto the Court, where he found easie access unto the courteous and religious Emperour, unto whom the Servants of God, and such as were famous for sancti∣ty of life were alwayes welcome. Not long after he found means to speak unto him, and know his holy exercises. At first he onely acquainted him with com∣mon vertues, That he gave large Alms, That he wore hair-cloth, That he fasted often, That he observed con∣jugal chastity, and That he caused justice to be exactly observed. These vertues seemed well unto the Her∣mit, especially in such a person: but yet judged all this to be short of himself, who had done those things with greater perfection; For he had renounced all, and given all he possessed for Christ, which was more than to give almes; he never knew woman in his life, which was more than to observe conjugal chasti∣ty, he never did injury or injustice unto any, which was more than to cause it to be kept to others; his

hair-cloth and fasts from all sorts of dainties were con∣tinual, which was more than to abstain some dayes from flesh. Wherefore altogether unsatisfied he further importuned the Emperour, beseeching him to conceal nothing from him; That it was the Divine will that he should acquaint him with what he did, and that therefore he was sent unto him from God. The Em∣perour thus urged said unto him, Know then that when I assist at the horse-courses, and spectacles in the Circus, where my presence is required, I so withdraw my minde from those vanities, that though my eyes be open I see them not. The Hermit remained asto∣nisht at so particular a mortification in so great an Em∣perour, and perceived that Scepters and Purple could not hinder a devout Prince from mortification of his affections, and meriting much with God Almighty. Theodosius further added; Know also that I sustain my self by my labour; for I transcribe certain parchments into a fair hand, which being sold, the price payes for my food. With this example of poverty amongst so much riches, and temperance in the middest of so great dainties, the Hermit was wholly amazed, and learned that abstinence from ease and pleasures of this life, was that which made this religious Prince so gracious and acceptable unto our Lord. Finally so perverse are the delights of the World, that, though lawful, yet they hinder much our spiritual proficiency, and if un∣lawful, are the total ruine of our Souls.

§ 4.

What shall we then say of the Royal and Imperial dignity, which seems in humane judgement to embrace all the happiness of the World? Honours, Riches, Pleasures, all are contained in it. But how small is a Kingdom, since the whole Earth in respect of the Heavens is no bigger than a point? and certainly nei∣ther Honours, Riches, or Pleasures are greater or more

secure than we have described them. Let us hear St. Chrysostome speak of the Emperours of his time.* 1.54

Look not upon the Crown, saith he, but upon that tem∣pest of cares which accompany it. Fix not thy eyes upon the purple, but upon the mind of the King more sad and dark than the purple it self. The Dia∣dem doth not more encompass his head, than cares and suspicions his soul. Look not at the Squadions of his Guard, but at the Armies of molestations which attend him; for nothing can be so full of cares as the Palaces of Kings. Every day they expect not one death, but many; nor can it be said how often in the night their hearts tremble with some sodain fright, and their souls almost seem to forsake their bodies, and this in the time of peace. But when a warre is kindled, what life so miserable as theirs? how many dangers happen unto them, even from their Friends and Subjects? The floor of the Royal Palace is drowned in the blood of their Kindred. If I shall mention those which have happened here∣tofore and now of late, thou wilt easily know them. This suspecting his Wife tied her naked in the mountains, and left her to be devoured by wild beasts, after she had been a Mother of divers Kings. What a life had that man; it being impossible he should execute such a revenge, unless his sick heart had been eaten and consumed with jealousie? This put to death his onely Son. This killed himself be∣ing taken by the Tyrant. This murthered his Ne∣phew after he had made him his companion in the Empire. This his Brother, who died by poi∣son; and his innocent Son ended his life onely for what he might have been. Of those Princes which followed, one of them was with his Slaves and Chariots miserably burnt alive; and it is not possible for words to express the calamities which he was forced to endure. And he, which now raigns, hath he not since he was crowned suf∣fered

many troubles, dangers, griefs and treasons? but in Heaven it is not so.

After this manner St. Chrysostome paints forth the greatest fortune of the World, the Imperial Majesty, which must needs be little, since it is so unhappy, that it suffers not to en∣joy those frail goods of the earth in security, but makes the possessors oftentimes perish before them. But it is far otherwise in Heaven, the Palace and House of God; where the just without mixture or counterpoise of mi∣sery are to enjoy those goods eternal, as we shall see in its proper place.

Lastly, let us learn from hence not to admire the greatness of this World, nor to desire the benefit of it; Which lesson was well taught by St. Spiridion unto his Disciple, who accompanying him one time unto the Court of the Emperour, suffered himself to be trans∣ported with those things which he beheld. The great∣ness and lustre of the Court, The rich Garments, Jew∣els, Pearls, and precious Stones dazled the eyes of the raw and unexperienced youth: but above all the sight of the Emperour, seated in his Imperial Throne with so much splendour and greatness, almost drew him besides himself. St. Spiridion willing one day to cor∣rect his errour, asked him, (as if he had not known it,) Which of those were the Emperour. His Disciple not reaching his intention, pointing with his finger, sim∣ply told him, That was he. And wherefore replyed the Saint, is this man more to be esteemed than the rest? is it perhaps because he is more vertuous? or is it because he is adorned with more exterior lustre and bravery? is not he likewise to die as well as the most poor and unknown beggar? is he not to be buried? is he not as well as the rest of men to appear before the just Judge? Wherefore then doest thou value those things which are to pass, as if they were to last for ever? Wherefore doest thou admire that which hath no consistence? It were fitter for thee to place thy eyes and heart upon things eternal

and incorruptible, and to be enamoured of those, which are not subject to change and death.

The same Disciple of Spiridion, being now Bishop, travelled one time with his Master, who was then al∣so Archbishop of Trimitunte; and as they came to a certain place, where the fields were very fertile and pleasant, the Disciple being much taken with them, began to cast within himself, how he might compass an Inheritance in that good Country, and lay it to his Church. The Saint, who understood his thoughts, gave him this sweet and gentle reprehension. To what purpose, dear Brother, doest thou trouble thy thoughts with things so vain and of so little substance? Wherefore doest thou desire Land and Vineyards to labour and cultivate? doest thou not know that these things are onely of an outward appearance, and with∣in are nothing, or at least are worth nothing? We have an Inheritance in Heaven, which none can take from us; There we have a house not made by the hands of men. Look after those goods, and begin now even before the time by the vertue of hope to enjoy them. Those goods are of that condition, that if you once possess them, and make your self Lord of them, you shall be then their eternal heir, and your Inheri∣tance shall never pass to others. Let one place himself in the point of death, and let him from thence, on the one part behold the littleness of all things temporal, which are now past, and on the other the greatness of Eternity, whereinto he enters, which shall never pass, and he shall easily discover, how all the greatness, and commodities of this life are for their littleness and short endurance rather worthy of laughter than admi∣ration.

CAP. VII.

How miserable a thing is this Temporal Life.

LEt us also consider more particularly the substance and bulk of humane life, which we so much e∣steem, and we shall not a little wonder, how so many and so great misfortunes can happen in so short a space. Whereupon Phalaris the Agregentin was used to say, That if a man before he was born, knew what he was to suffer in life, he would not be born at all. For this reason some Philosophers repenting that they lived, would blaspheme Nature, railing at it with a thousand complaints and injuries, because to the best of living things it had given so bad and wretched a life: not reaching so high as to know that this was an effect of the fault of man, and not a fault of Na∣ture or Divine Providence. Pliny would say, That Nature was but a Stepmother to mankind; and Si∣lenus being demanded, what was the greatest happiness man was capable of, said, Not to be born, or die quickly. The great Philosopher and Emperour Marcus Aurelius considering humane misery spake in this discreet man∣ner.* 1.55

The warre of this life is dangerous, and the end and issue of it so terrible and dreadful, that I am certain, that if any of the ancient should rise a∣gain, and recount unto us faithfully, and give us a view of his life past from the time he came out of his Mothers womb unto his last gasp, the body re∣lating at large the pains and griefs it hath suffered, and the heart the alarms it hath received from for∣tune, that all men would be amazed at a body, that had endured so much, and at a heart, that had gained so great a victory, and dissembled it. I here confess freely, and although to my shame, yet for the pro∣fit,

that may redound to future ages, that in the space of fifty years, which I have lived, I have de∣sired to prove the utmost of all the vices and excesses of this life, to see if the malice of man had any bounds and limits; and I finde after long and seri∣ous inquisition, that the more I eat, the more is my hunger: and the more I drink, the greater is my thirst: if I sleep much, the more is my desire to sleep: the more I rest, the more weary and indisposed I finde my self: the more I have, the more I covet, and the more I grasp the less I hold. Finally, I at∣tain to nothing, which doth not surfeit and cloy me, and then presently I abhorre it, and desire something else.

This is the judgement of Philoso∣phers concerning the miseries of mans life. The same is that of the Wiseman,* 1.56 when he sayes, All the dayes of man are full of grief and misery; neither do his thoughts rest at night. * 1.57 With reason did Democritus say, That the life of man was most miserable, since those who seek for Good, hardly finde it, and Evil comes of it self, and enters our gates unsought for; insomuch as our life is alwayes exposed unto innumerable dangers, injuries, losses, and so many infirmities, that, accord∣ing to Pliny, and many Physicians Greeks and Ara∣bians, there were more than thirty several sorts of new diseases discovered in the space of a few years; and now every day they finde out others, and some so cruel, as they are not to be named without horrour. Neither speak I onely of the infirmities, but of their remedies. For even griefs known and common are cured by cauterizing with fire, by sawing off a member, by tripanizing the scull, or drawing bones from it. Some have been cured with the opening the belly, and drawing forth the guts. Others by reason of the great malice of the disease are cured with so strange diets, that the sick persons (as Cornelius Celsus writes) have for very thirst drunk their Urine, and eaten their Plasters for raging hunger. Others are pre∣scribed

to eat Snakes, Mice, Worms, and other loath∣some Vermin. But above all the cure of Palaeologus the Second, Emperour of Constantinople, was most cruel and extravagant: whose infirmity after a years continuance found no other remedy but to be conti∣nually vext and displeased, his Wife and Servants, who most desired his health, having no wayes to re∣store it, but by disobedience, still crossing and oppo∣sing him in what he most desired; a harsh cure for a Prince. If remedies be so great evils, what are the infirmities? The sickness of Angelus Politianus was so vehement, that he knockt his head against the walls: That of Mecoenas so strange, that he slept not, nor clo∣sed his eyes in three whole years: That of Antiochus so pestilential, that his loathsome smel infected his whole Army, and his body (as hath been said) flowed with lice and vermin. Consider here the end of Majesty, when the greatest power of the Earth cannot defend it self against so noisome and so contemptible an enemy. In the same manner Feretrina, Queen of the Barcaeans, all the flesh of her body turned into maggots and grubbs, that swarming every where at last consumed her. Some have had serpents bred in their arms and thighs, which have devoured their flesh even whilest they lived. With reason then does man enter into the World with tears, as divining the many miseries, which he shall have time enough to suffer, but not to lament, and therefore begins to weep so early.

§. 2.

Strange Pestilences.

* 1.58WHat shall I say of those strange pestilential in∣firmities, which have destroyed whole Cities, & Provinces? Many Authors write that in Constantinople there happened so strange a Plague, that those, who

were infected with it, thought they were kill'd by their next neighbours, and falling into this frenzie died raging with fear and imagination that they were murthered by their friends. In the time of Heraclius there was so mortal a Pestilence in Romania, that in a few dayes many thousands died, and the greater part of those, who were struck, flung themselves into the River to asswage that excessive heat, which like a fire burnt their entrails. Thucidides a Greek Author writes, that in his time there was such a corruption of the air, that an infinite of people died, and no re∣medy could be found to mitigate that disaster; and which was most strange, if any by good hap recovered, they remained without memory at all of what was past: in so much as the Fathers forgot their Sons, and Husbands their Wives. Marcus Aurelius, an Au∣thor worthy of credit, speaks of a Plague in his time so great in Italy, that it was easier to number the quick than the dead. The Souldiers of Avidius Cassius being in Seleucia, a City within the Territories of Babylon, entred into the Temple of Apollo, and finding there a Coffer, which they imagined might contain some treasure, opened it, from whence issued so pestilenti∣al and corrupted an air, that it infected the whole Region of Babylon, and from thence passed into Greece, and so to Rome, still corrupting the air as it went, in so much as the third part of mankinde remained not alive.

The calamities of the times nearer ours have been no less. For as our sins decrease not, so the justice of God in punishing us slakes not. A year after Francis King of France was married to Donna Leonora of Au∣stria, there raigned in Germany strange infirmity; Those, who were infected with it, sweating forth a pe∣stilential humour died within four and twenty hours. It began in the West, but passing afterwards into Ger∣many it raged with such fury, as if it meant to extirpate all mankinde; for before any remedy could be found,

there died so many thousands of people, that many Townes and Provinces remained desert. Such was the putrifaction of the air, that it left almost nothing alive; and those few, that remained, in signe of pen∣nance, and to avert the wrath of God, went signed with red Crosses. They write that it was so violent in England, that not onely men died, but birds left their nests, their eggs, and young ones, the wilde beasts quitted their Dennes, and snakes and moles were seen to goe in companies and troopes, not being able to endure the poyson enclosed in the bowells of the earth; and many creatures were found in heapes dead under trees, their bodies broken out into blanes and botches. The yeare 1546. the last of May began in Stix (a City of Provence) a most mortal pestilence, which lasted nine moneths; in which died an infinite number of people of all ages; in so much as the Church∣yards were so full of dead bodies, as there was no room left to bury others. The greatest part of those, who were infected, the second day became frantick and flung themselves out of windowes, or into wells; others fell into a flux of blood at the nose, which if they stanched they instantly died. Married women became abortive, or at four moneths end they, and what they went with died, whom they found covered over with spots something blewish on one side, which seemed like blood sprinkled over their body. The evil was so great, that Fathers forsook their Children, and Women their Husbands; Riches did not preserve them from dying of hunger, a pot of water being not sometimes to be had for money. If they found by chance what to eat, the fury of the sickness was such, as they often died with the morsel in their mouths. The contagion became so great, that many took it by being onely looked upon; and the ayr of the City was so corrupted by the grievous heat of this pestilential evil, that wheresoever the steam of it came, it raised great blisters, mortal sores and carbuncles. O how monstrous and horrible a thing it

is, to hear the relation of the Physician, who was ap∣pointed for the cure and government of the sick? This infirmity, saith he, was so sharp and perverse, that neither Bleeding, Purging, Treacles, nor other Cor∣dials could stay it; it kill'd and bore down all before it, in so much as the onely remedy, which the infected persons hoped for, was death, of which being certain, so soon as they found themselves ill, they began to make their Winding-sheets; and there were ten thou∣sand who wore them whilest they yet lived, knowing certainly that the remedy and end of their evil was to die: and in this manner stood expecting the departure of the soul, and the fearful separation of the two so dear friends and companions: which he affirms to have seen in many persons; especially in one woman, who calling him at her window to appoint something for her infirmity, he saw sewing her Winding-sheet; and not long after those who were appointed to in∣terre the dead, entring the house found her stretched out upon the floor, her Winding-sheet not yet finish∣ed. To all this is humane life subject. Let those therefore who are in health and jollity fear what may befall them.

§ 3.

Notable Famines.

FAmine is no less a misery of mans life than Pesti∣lence, which not onely particular persons, but whole Provinces have often suffered. Such was that which afflicted the Romans, when Alaricus that arch-Enemy of Mankind after the destruction of all Italy besieged Rome. The Romans came to that poverty, famine, and want of all things, that having nothing left of that which men commonly use to eat, they be∣gan to feed on Horses, Dogs, Cats, Rats, Dormice, and other vermin, where they could lay hold on them;

and when those failed, they eat one another. A hor∣rible condition of humane nature, that when God suffers us to fall into those straights, our necessity for∣ces us to feed upon our own kind. Nay, Fathers spare not their Sons, nor Women those, whom they have brought forth. The same happened in the Siege of Jerusalem, as Eusebius recounts in his Ecclesiastical History. At the Siege of Numantia, when Scipio had cut off all provisions from entring the Town, the In∣habitants fell into that mortal and dog-like famine, that every day they sallied forth to catch Romans, as if they had hunted after wilde beasts. Those whom they took they fed upon their flesh, and drunk their blood, as if they had drunk fountain water or fed up∣on Kid. They pardoned none; but such as fell into their hands were cut in quarters, and sold by pieces publickly in the Butchery; in so much as the flesh of a dead Roman was of greater value than the ransome of a live one. In the fourth book of Kings there is mention made of a Famine in Samaria, in the time of Elizeus the Prophet, which much exceeds this. The want of food was so great, that the head of an Ass was sold for 80 pieces of silver, and the fourth part of a small measure of Pigeons dung for 5 pieces. The most lamentable and inhumane was, that having spent all their provision, Women eat their own Chil∣dren; and one Woman complained to the King of Israel, that her neighbour had broken an Agreement made betwixt them, which was, That they should first eat her Child, and, that done, the others. I, sayes she, have complied with my obligation, and we have al∣ready eaten mine, and now she hath hid hers, and denies me my part. Which the King hearing rent his garments, and was struck with unspeakable sorrow. Josephus in the seaventh Book of the Wars of the Jews relates a story much like unto this,* 1.59 but executed with more fury, and after a more strange manner. There was, saith he, in Jerusalem, when it was besieged, a Lady

rich and noble, who had hid in a house of the City the most part of her wealth, and of the rest lived sparing∣ly and with great moderation. But she was not suffer∣ed to do so long; for the Souldiers of the Garrison discovering her stock in a short time bereaved her both of what she had within doors and without; and if she chanced at any time to be relieved by friends, or beg some little thing to asswage her hunger, they would take it from her, and tear the morsel out of her mouth. Seeing her self therefore destitute of all hope or coun∣sel, and certain to die of hunger, and no possible re∣medy left for her necessities, she began to arm her self against the laws of Nature, and beholding the Infant which hung at her breast, she cried out in this manner; O unhappy Son of a more unhappy Mother! how shall I now dispose of thee? where shall I preserve thee? things are driven to that exigent, that though I save thy life from famine, thou art certain to be a Slave to the Romans. Better it is, my Son, that thou now sustain thy Mother who gave thee being, and strike a terrour into those cursed Souldiers, who have left me no other way of subsisting; better that thou become an argument of pity unto future ages, and raise sorrow in hearts not yet born. At these words she cut the throat of her tender Infant, divided it in the middle, rosted one half and eat it, and laid aside the rest for another meal. She had no sooner ended this lamentable Tragedy, but the Souldiers entred; who smelling the rosted flesh began to threaten the Woman with death if she discovered not her store. But she distracted with rage and horrour of her act, and desiring nothing more than to accompany her dead Infant, without fear or being abashed at all re∣plied in this manner; Peace friends, we will share like brothers: and saying this, she fetched the half Child, and placed it upon the Table before them. At which hideous sight the Souldiers being amazed and confounded conceiv'd so great horrour and compassion

in their hearts, that they were not able to utter one word; but she to the contrary staring upon them with a wilde countenance full of fury and distraction, with a hoarse and broken voice, spake in this manner; Why, how now Masters, how comes this to pass? is not this my Son, the fruit of my own body? is not this my act? why do ye not then eat, since I have be∣gun unto you? are you perhaps more nice than a Wo∣man? are you more scrupulous than the Mother which bore it? for shame fall too; It is I who have eaten of it first, and 'tis I will bear you company in eating of the rest. But they not being able to behold so horrible a spectacle fled out of doors, and left the miserable Mother with that little which remained of her Son and all her wealth.

Unto these stories I shall add one more lamentable, in which will clearly appear unto what calamity hu∣mane life stands exposed. It is written by William Paradin, a man of great learning and diligence, in a Treatise of things memorable in his time. He relates it thus. In the year 1528 men were grown so dis∣solute in their lives, and so given over to all sorts of wickedness, that notwithstanding those cruel and bloody warres which then raigned in most parts of Europe, they humbled not themselves, nor converted unto their Lord God, but became every day worse, and fell into that extremity of vice and mischief, that God being offended let loose the sharp arrows of his wrath and vengeance against the Realm of France with such fury, that all men thought the final destru∣ction of that Kingdom was then come. The want of corn, wine, and other fruits of the earth, and the mi∣series and calamities of those times were such, as no Records ever mention the like. For five continued years, beginning at the year 1528, the four Seasons of the year never kept their due and natural course, but were in that confusion and disorder, that some∣times Autumn came in Spring, and Spring in Autumn,

Summer in Winter, and Winter in Summer; onely the unnatural Summer seemed to overcome the rest of the parts of the year, and the heat doubled his forces against his enemy the cold: insomuch as in De∣cember, January, and February, when the cold ought to season and mellow the earth with frost and snow, the heat was so excessive, that the ground was parch∣ed and burnt up; which was a most prodigious thing to behold. In all those five years there was no two dayes together of hard weather: neither those so in∣tense, as to glase the waters with the least shew of ice, by which excessive heat were bred in the bowels of the earth an infinite number of Vermin, Snails, Grubs, Worms, Lizards, and other creatures, which eat up the young and tender corn in the hearb, and much of it was devoured and consumed in the husk before it sprung up: which was the reason, that Wheat, which uses to sprout up divers sterns from one grain, hardly put forth one or two, and those so abortive, weak and dry, that in reaping time they gathered not half so much as they sowed, and sometimes nothing at all. This Famine lasted without cease or intermis∣sion five whole years; a thing so lamentable, that it is impossible for them to imagine who have not seen it. The people were so oppressed and afflicted with this mortal hunger, and many other evils which ac∣companied it, that it was pitiful to behold. For many who were rented men, and reasonable well to pass, left their Houses and Granges, and went from door to door like wanderers, begging an alms for Gods sake. Every day the number of the poor increased, in such a manner as it was fearful to behold them, going up and down in troops impossible to remedy, and dan∣gerous to suffer. For besides the fear and hazard of being robbed, to which necessity might without sin enforce them, the air was filled with stench and cor∣ruption from their breaths and bodies. To asswage their hunger, they fill'd themselves with all sorts of

hearbs good and bad, wholesome and poisonous; they ransackt all Gardens and Orchards, not sparing so much as the roots and stalks of Cabbages, and of them found not enough to satisfie their ravenous appetites; and failing of Pot-hearbs in the Gardens, they fell up∣on those which grew wilde in the Fields. Many of them boiled great caldrons full of Mallows and Thi∣stles, mingling with them a little Bran if they could get it; and with this stuffed their bellies like Porks. It was a wonderful thing to see their many exquisite inventions of making bread of seeds of Hearbs, of Roots, of Fearn, of Acorns, of Hay-seeds, forced and taught by hunger, the Mistress of the sloathful: ve∣rifying that, which is commonly said, Want and Ne∣cessity makes men seek out remedies not thought on, as it made those miserable people, seeing Hogs feed upon the roots of Fearn, to trie whether they could make bread of it, robbing the food even from Swine to sustain themselves; Which evidently demonstrates the wrath of God against the impurity and filthiness of our sins, since he permits men to fall into that ne∣cessity, as to feed and feast with those unclean crea∣tures. From hence were ingendred many sorts of in∣firmities: great companies of Men, Women, Boyes and Girles, young and old, of all ages, went up and down the streets naked, pale, shivering with cold, some swoln like Drums with Dropsies, others stretcht upon the ground half dead, and ready to draw the last gasp, and of such the Stables and Dunghils were full; others trembled as if they were infected with quicksilver, so as they appeared more like unto Ghosts and Fantoms than living men. But above all the great∣est pity was to behold thousands of Women, feeble, pale, and hunger-starved, charged with an infinite number of their poor languishing Infants, which dri∣ed up with hunger, could not so much as weep or de∣mand succour from their sorrowful and afflicted Mo∣thers, who could onely help them with their pitiful

and compassionate looks, of which rivers of tears which ran from their eyes were a sufficient witness; and this certainly was the most lamentable Scene of this miserable Tragedy. The same William Paradin writes, that in Lonhans, a Town of Burgundy, he be∣held a poor woman, who with all the diligence, she could use, had gotten a little morsel of black bread, which when she was about to have eaten, her Infant unto whom she gave suck, a boy of about a year old, who had never until then eaten bit, snatcht it out of her hand: at which the sorrowful Mother admiring, beheld with what greediness he devoured that little piece of drie bread, as savourly as if it had been a March-pane; which when he had eaten, the Mother pickt up the crums that fell from his mouth, intend∣ing to eat them her self, but the Infant fell into so great unquietness, and so violent a fit of crying, that she was forced to leave them; and truly it seemed the Child knew the scarcity of that kind of food, and was therefore unwilling of a companion. What heart so hard and inhumane, that would not burst at the sight of so rueful a spectacle? The same Author fur∣ther writes, That in another Village near unto this, two women not finding any thing wherewith to as∣swage their hunger, filled themselves with Sea Oni∣ons, not knowing the property of that venemous hearb, which in such a manner poisoned them, that the extremities of their hands and feet became green as the skin of a Lizard, and a corrupt matter flowed from betwixt their nails and flesh, for which not re∣ceiving help so soon as was requisite, they both died. There was no creature which became not an executio∣ner of the wrath of God. The poor labourers left their Lands and Inheritances in hope to be relieved by the Rich, who had long since heaped up great quantities of corn in their Granaries: from whom at the first they bought bread at excessive rates; afterwards, mo∣ney failing, they sold and pawned their Lands and In∣heritances

for vile and low prices: for that which was worth an hundred crowns was sold for ten. Such was the abominable and greedy avarice of the Usurers, as if it were not enough for the poor to be scourged by the wrath of God, and to have the Elements and Creatures declared their enemies, but Men themselves must become their Hangmen, and persecute and af∣flict their own kinde. The Extortioners perceiving the desired occasion, which the perverseness of the time offered them, lost it not, but had Brokers and Factors in the Villages to buy the Inheritances of the poor at what price they pleased; which the afflicted willingly parted with, that they might have wherewith to eat; and together with it sold their Cattle and Houshold∣stuffe, and the very necessaries of their persons: and would with all their hearts have pawned their bowels to have had wherewith to feed them. Besides this, ma∣ny of them saw not their Wheat measured, and were forced to take it as the Sellers pleased, who were no juster in their measure than the price. There were some Usurers, that bought a piece of Land for less money than the Notaries would take for drawing the Writings. After all this the poor Peasants saw them∣selves, their Wives and Children cast out of their Hou∣ses, and to die in Hospitals. All those miseries, which fall not under imagination, are found in the life of man.

§. 4.

Evils of Warre.

GReater than all these calamities, is that of Warre, which of the three Scourges of God, wherewith he uses to chastise Kingdomes, is the most terrible, as well because it is comonly followed by the other two, as for that it brings along with it greater punishments, and, which is worse, greater sins, whereof plagues

are free, in which all endeavour to be reconciled with God, and even those who are in health dispose them∣selves for death. The Pestilence is sent by God, who is all goodness and mercy, not passing through the hands of men, as warres doe. Wherefore David held it for a mercy that his people suffered pestilence and not warre, because he judged it better to fall into the hands of God then men. Famine also, although it brings with it some sins, yet it lessens others; though it be accom∣panied with many thefts, yet it sutes not so much with pride and vanitie; neither doeth it permit so many sorts of vices as are occasioned by Warre. To repre∣sent the calamities of Warre, it shall be sufficient to instance in some of those which have been inflicted upon Germany in our own times in these late Warres. A book whereof was set forth in another Countrey: whose Argument or Title I repeat not, (it is known) but it could not give an account of all. I shall onely pick out some few of them, setting apart those places, which were dispeopled and burnt, whereof there were 2000 Towns onely in the Dukedome of Bavaria. The cruelties, which the conquering Souldiers inflicted up∣on the poor people, onely to discover where their wealth lay, are such as were never heard of. One of their torments was, to tye a peece of match about their foreheads, and with a stick so to straighten and screw their temples, that the blood would often burst forth, and sometimes the very eyes and brains would start forth of their broken sculls. Others they left upon the floors of their houses, or stretcht out upon a table bound hand and foot, and so exposed them to be eat∣en by hungry Dogs and Cats; and it often happened that the starved Cats would tear their bellies, and feed upon their tripes and entrails. Others they hung up by the hands some distance from the ground, and kind∣led a fire under them: Unto others they chopt off their noses and ears with Chisels, and wore them in their hatbands, holding it for a great gallantry, and

him for the bravest man, who was the cruellest beast. Unto others they poured water into their mouthes by a Tunnel, until they had fill'd their bodies like a Tun, and then sat or stamped upon their bellies, until they made the water gush out at their mouthes and no∣strils: Others they tied unto a post, and flead them a∣live like a St. Bartholmew. From some they pluckt out gobbets of flesh with pincers; others they quartered and tore in pieces alive. They forced divers women, and after cut off their armes. Many were so barbarous as to eat Children; and one was known to take a small Infant, and holding it by one leg with his left hand to tear it in sunder with his right, and so to eat and suck the blood of it. The Prisoners which they took they bound not their hands, but made holes through their arms, and putting cords through them, dragged them after their horses. The bodies of men, after that they had drawn out their guts and entrails, served as Mangers wherein to feed their horses. They robbed all, killed and burned men in their houses; and some grave Magistrates, whose lives they spared, were made to serve and wait bare-headed at Table up∣on the meanest Souldiers. Many, that they might not see and suffer those miseries, poisoned themselves; and divers Maids, flying from the Souldiers lust, cast themselves headlong into rivers and were drowned. To these miseries of Warre were added Pestilence and Famine. Those who fled from the Enemy died of the Plague or hunger in the open fields: and there was none to bury them, but dogs and ravenous birds which eat them. Neither had those who died in houses a more honourable Sepulcher, but were likewise devour∣ed by rats and vermin, who were grown so bold, as sometime, if they were but one or two in a house, to eat them whilest they lived, their weakness being such as they were not able to defend themselves. But the men in many places, were revenged of this affront, and eat the rats, of which there were publick Sham∣bles,

where they were sold at high prices. Those Ci∣ties were esteemed happy which had such dainties to sell; in other places nothing was to be had, but what every one provided by his own diligence. They often went together by the ears about a Rat, and cut one another in pieces in the quarrel: and happy was he that got a quarter of such loathsome vermin. Horse-flesh was a great dainty, and they esteemed themselves very fortunate, who knew where to light on a dead Pack-horse. Certain women found a dead Wolf all pu∣trified and full of worms, and fed upon it as savourly, as if it had been a Kid. The bodies of Malefactors who hung upon Gibbets were not secure, nor did the dead escape that were buried in their Graves; both were stollen in the night to sustain the living. Neither were they free from this danger who were alive; for two women were known to kill a third and eat her. After such fresh examples it will not need to call to memory the calamities of former Warres. What is said is sufficient to express the miseries, which are in∣cident to humane life.

§. 5.

Miseries occasioned by humane Passions.

ABove all, the greatest calamities of Man's life are not Pestilence, Famine, or Warre, but humane Passions not subordinate to reason. Wherefore St. John Chrysostome sayes;* 1.60

Amongst all evils, Man is the most evil. Every Beast hath an evil, which is proper and peculiar unto it, but Man is all Evils. The De∣vil dares not approach a just man: but Man dares despise him. And in another place to the same pur∣pose. Man is compared to the beasts of the field.* 1.61 It is worse to be compared to a beast, than to be one; for it is no fault to be born an unreasonable crea∣ture, but to be endued with reason, and to be com∣pared

to a beast is a fault of the will; so as our un∣tamed passions make us worse than beasts.

It is not credible what one man suffers from the passions of an∣other. What did David suffer from the envy of Saul? Exile, hunger, dangers and warre. Naboth sooner lost his life by the covetousness of Achab, than he could have done by a plague. Elias was more afflicted with the desire of revenge in Jezabel, than if he had had the pestilence; for that made him weary of his life, and this would but have made him weary of his disease. What Plagues, or Warres, or Tortures were like the Ambition of Herod, which destroyed so many thousand Children? What contagion was more mortal than the cruelty of Nero and other Tyrants, who took a∣way the lives of so many innocent people to satisfie their fears or fancies? Wherefore Tully sayes;

Our desires are unsatiable,* 1.62 and do not onely destroy par∣ticular Persons, but entire Families, and ruine the whole Commonwealth. From desires spring hatred, dissentions, discords, seditions and warres.

What sorts of death and torments have not hatred and hu∣mane cruelty found out? What sorts of poison hath not the passion of Man invented? Orpheus, Orus, Me∣desius, Heliodorus, and other Authors have found five hundred several wayes of giving poison hiddenly: which have since been encreased by others. But in respect of what is this day known and practised they were ignorant. Nothing is now secure, since poison hath been given even in the shaking of hands, when men were to be reconciled and made friends. Onely in the sense of hearing it hath not yet found a door to enter: all the rest of the senses it hath mastered; with the smell of a Rose, with the sight of a Letter, with the touch of a Thread, with the taste of a Grape death hath found an entrance.

There is nothing brings more misery upon man than his passions, with which he pardons not himself. The proud man grieves and consumes for the felicity

of another: The envious dies to see a happy man live: The covetous man loses his sleep for what he hath no need of: The impatient man tears his bowels for that which imports not: and The cholerick man ruins him∣self for what no way concerns him. How many for not conquering one passion have lost their fortunes, their quiet, and their lives, both temporal and eter∣nal? Witness Aman, who desirng more reverence than was due to him lost his honour, wealth and life, and ended on a Gibbet. The ambition of Absolon rested not until it left him hang'd in a tree by the hair of his head. In the same manner the disordinate love of Am∣non, which made him first sick and pale, and distem∣pered him more than a burning fever, at last cost him his life. Unto many their unmortified passions have been like cruel Hangmen, which have sodainly berea∣ved them of their lives.* 1.63 Dubravius writes that Wen∣ceslaus King of Bohemia entred into so great fury a∣gainst a Courtier of his, for not giving him timely ad∣vice of an Uproar raised by Lisca in Prague, that he was like to have kill'd him with his own hands; but being witheld from defiling his Royal Majesty with the blood of his Vassal, he fell into an Apoplexie, and died immediately.* 1.64 The death of Nerva was likewise upon a sodain anger. And Pliny writes of Diodorus Cromus, that he sodainly died of shame, for that he was not able to answer a question proposed by Estibon. Through Fear, Grief, Joy, and Love many have died. I will onely relate here a lamentable story written by Paulus Jovius. * 1.65 A certain married man had lived long in adultery with so great scandal, that the Bishop of the City excommunicated both him and his Paramour, if they accompanied any more together. The man was so besotted with his passion, that contemning the Com∣mand of the Bishop, he went secretly one day to see his Mistress, who having repented of what was past, entertained him with harsh language, reprehended his impudency, and commanded him to depart her pre∣sence,

and never more to see her; But he still conti∣nuing in his madness began to call her ungrateful and unworthy, and in a rage clasping his hands toge∣ther and lifting up his eyes towards heaven, as if it were to complain of her unkindness, fell down stark dead, and in a moment lost both his life temporal and eternal: and his body was not suffered to be in∣terred in hallowed earth. If then our disordered passi∣ons be so hurtful unto our own lives, how dangerous and prejudicial are they unto the lives of others? Certainly if all other misfortunes were wanting, those were sufficient, which are caused by humane-passions. There is much to be suffered from the conditions of men, ill language, displeasing correspondencies, wil∣ful injuries, and perverse dispositions. All man is mi∣sery and cause of miseries. Who is so happy to content all, and be envied of none? who is so general a well∣doer, that no body complains of him? who so liberal, that finds not some ungrateful? who so esteemed, that some murmurers do not despise him? The Athenians found fault with their Simonides, because he talked too loud: The Thebans accused Panniculus, that he spit too much: The Lacedaemonians noted in Lycurgus, that he went hanging down his head: The Romans thought Scipio slept too much, and that he snorted too high: The Ʋticans were scandalized at Cato's eating too fast on both sides at once: They held Pom∣pey for rude and ill-bred, because he scratched his head with one finger: The Carthaginians spake ill of Hannibal, because he went open-breasted with his sto∣mack bare: Others laughed at Julius Caesar, because he was ill girt. There is none so upright, in whom envy or extravagant conditions will not find some∣thing to reprehend.

The greatest miseries are those, which men by their unbridled affections bring upon themselves. Whence proceeded that notable saying of Ecclesiastes, * 1.66 which far exceeded all that hath been spoken by Philosophers

concerning humane misery.

I praised (saith he) the dead before the living; I judged him more happy than either, who was not born, nor had seen the evils which are done under the Sun.

For there is no∣thing which offends humane nature more, than the follies and impertinencies of men, and the hatreds, in∣justices, violences, and inhumanities caused by their irregular passions. Whereupon some Philosophers see∣ing humane nature governed by passion and not by reason, wholly abhorred it. Amongst whom Timon of Athens was the principal beginner, and most earnest Professor of that Sect; for he did not only call himself the capital Enemy of Mankind, but confirmed his words by his actions; for he neither conversed nor dwelt with men, but lived in the Desert amongst wild beasts, remote from Neighbourhood or Towns; neither would he be visited by any, nor discourse with any but an Athenian Captain called Alcibiades, and that not for friendship or affection, but because he hoped and foresaw (as indeed it happened afterwards) that he would one day be the ruine of his Country, and the destruction of a multitude of men. Neither was he onely content with this aversion from men, but studied and invented all ways possible to destroy them. He cau∣sed Gallowses to be made in his Gardens, wherein such as were desperate and weary of life might convenient∣ly hang themselves; and having occasion some years after to make use of his Garden for the enlarging of his House, he would not pull down his Gallowses, un∣til he had called the people together to hear his Ora∣tion, assuring them, that he had something new and of importance to speak unto them. The people, who having been long acquainted with his humour, ex∣pecting something that was extraordinary, willingly assembled to hear him: to whom he spake in this man∣ner. O Athenians, you are not ignorant, that many have made themselves away in my Gardens. I have now occasion to dispose of them otherwise: and there∣fore

fore thought good to tell you, that if any of you have a mind to hang your selves, that you do it quickly; And so without more words, with this loving offer concluded his Speech, and returned to his own house, where he ended his life in the same opinion, ever philosophying of the misery of man. And when the pangs of death came upon him, abhorring mankinde even unto the last gasp, he commanded that his body should not be interr'd in the earth, as in the common Element, wherein usually were buried the bodies of others, afraid lest his bones should lye near or be touched by men though dead: but that they should make his Sepulcher upon the brink of the Sea, that tho fury of the waves might hinder the approach of all o∣thers: and that they should grave upon it this Epitaph, which is related by Plutarch; After my miserable life they buried me in this deep water. Reader, desire not to know my name. The Gods confound thee. This Philo∣sopher wanted faith and charity, not distinguishing betwixt the Malice of man, and his Nature: having reason to abhorre that, and to love this. Yet by these extravagant demonstrations he gave us to understand how monstrous are our passions, and how worthy of hate, when they are not ordered and governed by rea∣son. And certainly all Christians ought to desire the destruction of the pomp and pride of men, as Timon did of their persons, their superfluous gallantry, their unlawful pleasures, their ostentation of riches, their vain titles of honour, their raging envy, their disor∣dered choler, their unjust revenges, their unbridled passions. Those ought to die and be destroyed, that the men may live.

§ 6.

So many are the miseries of life that they cannot all be numbered. Death, which is called by Aristotle The greatest of evils, is by many esteemed a lesser evil than

life: the many evils in this surpassing the greatness of the evil in that; and therefore many have thought it better to suffer the greatest, which is death, than to suffer so many though lesser, which are in life. For this reason one calls Death, The last and greatest Phy∣sician, because though in it self it be the greatest evil, yet it cures all others, and therefore prescribes the hopes of it, as an efficacious remedy and comfort in the afflictions of life. But because this comfort is not relished by all, the fear of death being so natural, and the dangers and many waves unto it accounted a∣mongst the many miseries of life, therefore some prime Philosophers could find out no other remedy for evils than to despair of their remedy. Wherefore Seneca, when a great Earthquake happened in his time in Campania, wherein Pompeios a famous City, and di∣vers other Towns were sunk and many people lost, and the rest of the Inhabitants distracted with fear and and grief fled from their Country, as if they had been banisht, he advised them to return home, and assured them that there was no remedy for the evils of this life, and that the dangers of death were unavoidable. And truly, if well considered, what security can there be in life, when the Earth, which is the Mother of the living, is unfaithful to them, and sprouts out miseries and deaths even of whole Cities? what can be secure in the World, if the World it self be not, and the most solid parts of it shake? If that, which is onely immoveable and fixt for to sustain the living, tremble with Earthquakes, if what is proper to the Earth, which is to be firm, be unstable and betray us, where shall our fears find a refuge? When the roof of the house shakes we may flie into the fields, but when the world shakes, whither shall we goe? What comfort can we have, when fear cannot find a gate to flie out at? Cities resist Enemies with the strength of their walls: Tempests finde a sheltet in the Haven: The covering of Houses defend us from rains and snows:

In the time of plague we may change places; but from the whole Earth who can flie, and therefore from dangers? For this reason Seneca said, Not to have a remedy may serve us as a comfort in our evils; for Fear is foolish without Hope. Reason banishes fear in those who are wise; and in those, who are not, despair of remedy gives a kind of security, at least takes away fear. He that will fear nothing, let him think that all things are to be feared. See what slight things endanger us; even those which sustain life, lay ambushes for us. Meat and drink, without which we cannot live, take away our lives. It is not wisdom therefore to fear swallowing by an Earthquake, and not to fear the falling of a tile. In death all sorts of dy∣ings are equal. What imports it whether one single stone kills thee, or a whole Mountain oppress thee? death consists in the souls leaving of the bodies, which often happens by slight accidents,

But Christians in all the dangers and miseries of hu∣mane life, have other comforts to lay hold on, which are a good conscience, hope of glory, conformity un∣to the Divine will, and the imitation and example of Jesus Christ. From these four he shall in life have me∣rit, in death security, in both comfort, and in eternity a reward. Justus Lipsius being much oppressed with his last infirmity whereof he died, some who were present endeavoured to comfort him with some philo∣sophical reasons and sentences of the Stoicks, wherein that most learned man was much studied, as appears in his Book of the Introduction to Stoical learning; unto whom he answered in this most Christian man∣ner. Vain are all those consolations; and pointing unto an Image of Christ crucified, said, This is the true comfort and true patience. And presently with a sigh, which rose from the bottom of his heart, said; My Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ give me Christian patience. This comfort we ought to have, who were redeemed by so loving a Lord, That, considering our

sins are greater than the pains of this life, and that the Son of God hath suffered farre greater, who want∣ed all sin, he hath deserved to convert the miseries of this life, which are occasioned by sin, into instru∣ments of satisfaction for our sins, drawing health out of infirmity, and an antidote out of poison.

We may also draw from what is said, how unjust was the complaint of Theophrastus, that nature had gi∣ven a longer life unto many birds and beasts, than un∣to man. If our life were less troublesome, he had some reason; but it being so fraught with miseries, he might rather think that life the happiest which was shortest. Wherefore, as St. Jerome said to Helio∣dorus, it is better to die young and die well, than to die old and die ill. This voyage being of necessity, the felicity of it consists not in being long, but being pros∣perous, and that we at last arrive in the desired Port. St. Austin sayes,* 1.67 that to die is to be eased of those hea∣vy burthens, which we bear in this life: and that the happiness is not to leave it late in the evening of our age, but that when we die they charge us not with a greater load. Let a man live ten years, or let him live a thousand, death (as St. Jerome saith) gives him the title of happy or unfortunate. If he live a thousand years in sorrow, it is a great unhappiness: but greater, if he live them ill, though with content; and there∣fore, supposing so many miseries, we cannot complain of God for having given us a short life, but of our selves for having made it a bad one.* 1.68 Finally, as St. Am∣brose sayes, Our life being compassed with so many miseries, as that death seems rather a shelter for evils than a punishment, God was pleased that it should be short, that the vexations and misfortunes of it, which cannot be counterpoised with any joyes of the earth, might be more supportable. At least if this life with so many miseries do not displease us, yet let the eternal with all her felicities content us better; and let us not endeavour less for the immortal life of heaven, than

we doe for this mortal one of earth. And therefore, as St. Austin sayes,* 1.69

If thou run a hundred miles for this life, how many oughtest thou to run for the eternal: and if thou make such speed to obtain a few dayes and uncertain, how oughtest thou to run for life eternal?

CAP. VIII.

How little is man whilest he is temporal.

IF we consider the greatest thing in nature, which is Man, we shall see how little he is whilest he is temporal.

What is man saith Seneca? a frail vessel, broken with the least motion, a most weak body, naked by nature and unarmed, necessitous of Mo∣thers help, subject to the injuries of fortune, impa∣tient of cold and labour, composed of things infirm and fluid; and those very things, without which we cannot live, as smell, taste, watching, meat and drink, are mortal unto us.

The wise Solon did not answer more favourably, when they demanded of him,* 1.70 what was Man.

He is (saith he) a corruption in his birth, a beast in his life, and food for worms when he is dead.

Aristotle being asked the same question answered,

That Man was an Idea of weakness,* 1.71 a spoil of time, a game of fortune, an image of in∣constancy, a ballance of envy and calamity: and the rest is of flegme and choler.

Secundus the Philoso∣pher, being also demanded the same by Adrian the Emperour, answered,

That Man was an incorpo∣rated understanding, a phantasm of time, a looker upon life, a slave of death, a travelling passenger, a guest of place, a toyling soul, a habitation for a short time.

And St. Bernard saith,

That Man in this time of mortality is but a beast of carriage.

And the same Saint in another place sayes,

What is

Man but a vessel of dung?

and in his meditations he adds;

If thou markest what he voids at his mouth and nose, and at the other sinks of his body, thou hast not in all thy life beheld a more noisome dung∣hill.

In the same part he saith,

Man is no other thing but unclean seed, a sack of dung, a food for worms.

* 1.72 More fully Innocent the Pope.

I have con∣sidered, saith he, with tears what Man was made of, what he is, and what he shall be. He was made of earth, and conceived in sin, and born for punish∣ment. He does things evil, which are not lawful, things filthy, which are not decent, and things vain, which are not expedient. He shall be the food of fire, meat for worms, and a mass of corruption. O vile indignity of humane condition! O unworthy condition of humane baseness! Behold the plants and trees. They produce flowers, and leaves, and fruit, and thou nothing but nits, lice and worms. They furnish us with oyl, wine, and balsom, thou affords nothing but flegme, dung, and urine. Those send forth a fragrant odour, and thou abominable stink. Such as is the tree, such is the fruit. A good tree cannot bring forth bad fruit; and what is man but a tree reverst? This is the saying of this holy Pope.

And such is man even in his youth and best time. But if he reach old age, which is esteemed as a felicity, the same Innocentius adds,

His heart is af∣flicted, his head shakes, his spirits languish, his breath smells, his face wrinkles, his stature bends, his eyes wax dimme, his joynts quake, his nose runs, his hands tremble, his hair falls, his teeth rot, his ears grow deaf. Neither is he more changed in body than in mind. An old man is easily displeased, hardly pacified, believes quickly, long before disabused, is greedy, covetous, peevish, froward, still complain∣ing, quick in talking, slow in hearing, admires what's past, contemns what's present, sighs, grieves, languishes, and is alwayes infirm.

It may also appear what Man is by the stuff where∣of he is made. The first man God made of Clay, mix∣ing together the vilest and grossest Elements. The rest of men, who have succeeded, have been made of a matter more loathsome and unclean; and worse is that wherewith they are nourisht in their Mothers wombs; and their birth is accompanied with shame, grief, and pollution; which Pliny considering speaks in this manner.

It is a compassion, nay a shame to think of the original of the proudest of living crea∣tures, which is man; who often is abortive by the smell of a newly extinguisht candle. From such be∣ginnings sprung our Tyrants; from hence the but∣cherly minde of those cruel Hangmen. Thou which gloriest in the strength of body, thou which embra∣cest the gifts of fortune, and thinkest not thy self her Servant, but her Son and Darling, thou who set∣test thy mind wholly upon victories, thou who pufft up with success holdest thy self a God, see how thou mightest have perished even before thou wert, with so little a thing as a snuff of a candle, and mayest yet with a smaller matter, prickt with the little tooth of an Adder, or, like Anacreon the Poet, cho∣ked with the stone of a grape; or, like Fabius the Roman Senatour, suffocated with a hair in a draught of milk.

Thus farre Pliny, who not onely admi∣red the baseness of the nature of man, but the easiness of his end.

Consider also wherein Man ends.

Man whilest he lives, (saith Pope Innocent) engenders lice and ver∣min;* 1.73 when he is dead, grubs and worms; whilest he lives, affords nothing but dung, and vomits; when he is dead, stink and rottenness; alive he feeds but one man, but dead a multitude of worms. What thing more noisome than a humane Carcase? what more horrible than a dead Man? he whose embra∣ces were most acceptable when he was alive, even his sight is troublesome when he is dead. What do

riches, banquets, or delights profit us? they shall not free us from death, they shall not defend us from the worms, they shall not take away our stink and ill savour. He who even now was seated in a glo∣rious Throne, is now flung into an obscure Tomb: he who lately feasted in a sumptuous Sala, is now feasted upon by worms in a dark Sepulcher.

All this is from this contemplative Pope.* 1.74 St. Bernard also considering this miserable end of Man, saith,

Man is converted into no man; why therefore art thou proud? know that thou wert in the womb unclean seed, and curdled blood, exposed afterward to sin, and the many miseries of this life, and after death shalt be the food of worms. Wherefore doest thou wax proud, Dust and ashes, whose conception was in sin, whose birth in misery, whole life in pain, and whose death necessity? wherefore doest thou swell and adorn thy flesh with precious things, which in few dayes is to be devoured by worms; and doest not rather adorn thy soul with good works, which is to be presented in heaven before God and his Angels?

All this is spoken by St. Ber∣nard, which every man ought to take as spoken unto himself.

§. 2.

Besides that man is a thing so poor and little, and composed of so base and vile materials, this littleness, this vileness hath no firmness nor consistence, but is a river of changes, a perpetual corruption, and, as Secundus the Philosopher sayes,* 1.75

A fantasme of time; whose instability is thus declared by Eusebius of Cae∣sarea. Our nature from our birth until our death is unstable, and as it were fantastical, which if you strive to comprehend, is like water gathered in the palm of the hand; the more you grasp it, the more you spill it. In the same manner those mutable and

transitory things, the more you consider them with reason, the more they flye from you. Things sen∣sible being in a perpetual flux, are still doing and undoing; still generating and corrupting, and ne∣ver remain the same. For, as Heraclitus sayes, as it is impossible to enter twice into the same river, be∣cause the same water remains not, but new succeeds still as the first passes, so if you consider twice this mortal substance, you shall not both times find it the same, but with an admirable swiftness of change it is now extended, now contracted; but it is not well said to say Now and Now; for in the same time it loses in one part, and gains in another, and is another thing than what it is, in so much as it ne∣ver rests. The Embrion, which is framed from seed, quickly becomes an Infant, from thence a Boy, from thence a Young-man, from thence an Old, and then decrepit; and so the first ages being past and corrupted by new ones which succeed, it comes at last to die. How ridiculous then are men to fear one death, who have already died so many, and are yet to die more. Not onely, as Heraclitus said, The corruption of fire is the generation of air, but this appears more plainly in our selves; for from youth corrupted is engendred man, and from him the old man; from the boy corrupted is engendered the youth, and from the infant the boy, and from who was not yesterday, he who is to day; and of him, who is to day, he who shall be to morrow: so as he never remains the same, but in every moment we change, as it were, with various phantasms in one common matter. For if we be still the same, how come we to delight in things we did not before? we now love and abhorre after another manner than formerly: we now praise and dispraise other things than we did before: we use other words, and are moved with other affections; we do not hold the same form, nor pass the same judgement

we did; and how is it possible, that without change in our selves, we should thus change in our moti∣ons and affections? certainly he who still changes is not the same, and he who is not the same cannot be said to be, but in a continual mutation slides away like water. The sense is deceived with the igno∣rance of what is, and thinks that to be which is not. Where shall we then finde true being, but in that onely which is eternal, and knows no beginning, which is incorruptible, which is not changed with time? Time is moveable, and joyned with mo∣vable matter; glides away like a current, and like a vessel of generation and corruption retains nothing: in so much as the first and the last, that which was, and that which shall be are nothing, and that which seems present, passes like lightning. Wherefore as time is defined to be the measure of the motion of things sensible, and as time never is, nor can be, so we may with the like reason say, that things sensible do not remain, nor are, nor have any being.

All this is from Eusebius; which David declared more briefly and significantly when he said, That man whilest he lived in this life, was an Universal vanity. Wherefore St. Gregory Nazianzen said,* 1.76 that we are a dream, un∣stable, like a Spectre or Apparition, which could not be laid hold on.

Let man therefore reflect upon all which hath been said; let him behold himself in this glass: let him see wherefore he presumes, wherefore he afflicts himself for things of the earth, which are so small in them∣selves, and so prejudicial unto him. With reason did the Prophet say, In vain doth man trouble himself; Upon which St. Chrysostome with great admiration speaks in this manner.* 1.77

Man troubles himself and loses his end; he troubles himself, consumes and melts to nothing, as if he had never been born; he troubles himself, and before he attains rest is over∣whelmed; he is inflamed like fire, and is reduced to

ashes like flax; he mounts on high like a tempest, and like dust is scattered and disappears; he is kin∣dled like a flame, and vanishes like smoke; he glo∣ries in his beauty like a flower, and withers like hay; he spreads himself as a cloud, and is contra∣cted as a drop; he swells like a bubble of water, and and goes out like a spark; he is troubled, and car∣ries nothing about him but the filth of riches; he is troubled onely to gain dirt; he is troubled and dies without fruit of his vexations. His are the troubles, others the joyes; his are the cares, others the con∣tents; his are the afflictions, others the fruit; his are the heart-burstings, others the delights; his are the curses, others have the respect and reverence; against him the sighs and exclamations of the per∣secuted are sent up to Heaven, and against him the tears of the poor are poured out, and the riches and abundance remains with others; he shall howl and be tormented in hell, whilest others sing, triumph, and vainly consume his estate. In vain do living men trouble themselves. Man is he who enjoyes a life but lent him, and that but for a short time; Man is but a debt of death, which is to be paid without delay; a living Creature, who is in his will and appetite untamed, a mischief taught with∣out a Master, a voluntary ambush, subtle in wicked∣ness, witty in iniquity, prone to covetousness, in∣satiable in the desire of what is anothers, of a boast∣ing spirit, and full of insolent temerity; in his words fierce, but easily quailed; bold, but quickly master∣ed; an arrogant clay, an insolent dust, and a sparkle which in a moment is extinguished; a flame which quickly dies, a light which vanishes into air, a dead leaf, withered hay, faded grass, a nature which consumes it self, to day threatens, and to morrow dies; to day abounds in wealth, and is to morrow in his grave; to day hath his brows circled with a dia∣dem, and to morrow is with worms; he is to day,

and to morrow ceases to be; triumphs and rejoyces to day, and to morrow is lamented; immeasurably insolent in prosperity, and in adversity admits no comfort; who knows not himself, yet is curious in searching what is above him; is ignorant of what is present, and scoffs at what's to come; he who is mortal by nature, and out of pride thinks himself eternal; he who is an open house of perturbations, a game of divers infirmities, a concourse of daily calamities, and a receptacle of all sorrow. O how great is the Tragedy of our baseness! and how many things have I said? But it cannot better be declared than by the voice of the Prophet: In vain doth man who lives trouble himself. For truly the things of this life, which shine and glister most, are of less profit than a putrified Carcase.

This is of St. John Chrysostome, in which he clearly sets forth the misery of Man, the shortness of his life, and the vanity of things temporal.

§ 3.

And that the perfect knowledge of our selves may not be wanting unto us, Man is not onely thus vile and base, whilest he lives, and much more being dead, but even his Soul, whilest it remains in his Body, is not of much greater esteem. For although the Soul be of it self of a most noble substance, yet our vices do so much vilifie it, that they make it more abominable than the Body. And without doubt the Soul, when it is dead in mortal sin, is more corrupt and stinking in the sight of the Angels, than a Body dead eight days agoe; for if that Body be full of worms, this is full of de∣vils and vices. And even whilest the Soul lives, and is free from any mortal sin, yet by committing those, which are but venial, it becomes full of imperfecti∣ons; and although it be not dead, yet it is more weak, feeble, and languishing than a sick Body; and if a

man knew himself well, he would be more af∣frighted at the misery of his Soul, than at that of his Flesh. The devout Father Alfonso Roderiguez, a most excellent Master in matters of spirit, writes of a holy Woman, who desired light from God to know in what condition she was: and saw in her self such ugliness and deformity, that she was not able to suffer it, and therefore besought God again, saying, Not so much, O Lord, for I shall faint and be dismaid. Father Ma∣ster John d'Avila saith, that he knew a person who often had importuned God to discover unto him, what he was. It pleased God to open his eyes but a very little, and yet that little had like to have cost him dear: for he beheld himself so ugly and abominable, that he cried out aloud, Lord of thy mercy take from before mine eyes this mirrour; I desire not any more to be∣hold my figure. Donna Sancha Carillo, that most fer∣vent servant of Christ, after she had led a most perfect and admirable life, besought our Lord to give her a sight of her Soul, that seeing the filthiness of her sins, she might be further moved to abhorre them. Our Lord was pleased to grant her request, and shewed it her in this form. One night, as she sat alone in her Sala the door open, there passed before her an anci∣ent Hermite, his hair all gray, and in his hand a staffe to support him. She amazed at the sight of such a man, in such a habit, at so unseasonable an hour, was a little surprised with fear; yet recollecting her self, said unto him, Father, what seek ye for here? to whom he answered, Lift up my Cloak, and you shall see. She did so, and beheld a little Girle sickly, pale, and weak, with the face all covered over with flies. She took it in her armes, and demanded of him, Father, what is this? Doest thou not remember, replyed the Hermite, when thou earnestly desired'st of our Lord, that he would give thee a view of thy Soul? Behold the fi∣gure of it; after this manner it is. This said, the Ap∣parition vanished, and she remained so confused and

affrighted, that it seemed unto her (accordingly as she after confessed) that all her bones were displaced with such grief and pain, as, had it not been for the great favour and mercy of God, it had been impos∣sible for her to endure it. She passed that night al∣most overwhelmed with the waves of her sad and troubled thoughts. The manner of that Girle so feeble and discoloured afflicted her extremely, contemplating it as the image of her Soul; especially when she re∣flected on the face covered with those impertinent and troublesome little creatures, her grief was doubled: and it seemed unto her as if it had smelt like some∣thing that was dead, or some old sore: which made her send up a thousand sighs unto heaven, and to de∣sire a remedy and mercy from our Lord. No sooner did the day so much desired by her appear, but she repaired instantly unto her Confessor, a person of great vertue and learning, and desired him with many tears to explicate unto her the meaning of that Vision, and to tell her whether those little creatures did signifie any grievous and hidden sins, which her soul knew not of. The Confessor took some short time to re∣commend his answer unto our Saviour: which done, he returned and said unto her, Madam, trouble not your self, but render hearty thanks unto God for the favour which he hath done you; and know that the feebleness, which appeared in the Image of your Soul, was an effect of venial sins, which weaken, but kill not; cool, but extinguish not the charity in our Souls; for if they had been mortal sins, the Girle would have been dead: for those deprive the Soul wholly of life; those which be venial onely take away our fervour and promptness in the service of God, and the perfect accomplishing of his holy Law. If then the Souls of so great Servants of God are so full of miseries, where∣in can miserable man boast, since he is so both in soul and body?

CAP. IX.

How deceitful are all things Temporal.

FRom what hath hitherto been said may be col∣lected how great a lie and cozenage is all that which passes in time, and that the things of the earth, besides that they are base, inconstant and transitory, are also deceitful and full of danger. This is signified unto us in the Apocalyps by the Harlot, by which was denoted humane prosperity, who sat upon that mon∣strous Beast, which is the World. And amongst other Ornaments, as the Scripture sayes, she was adorned with gilded gold; which gives us to understand her falshood: Since it was not true and fine gold which she wore, but false and counterfeited; for although it seemed gold, it was but alchimy; and yet being gilt she sold it for true gold. So the Prosperity of the World comes decked with the goods of the earth, which she fells for true goods, setting them forth as great, secure and lasting, when they are nothing less. All is but deceit and cozenage; which is well exprest by Seneca, when he sayes:

That is onely good which is honest; other goods are false and adulterate.

What greater falshood and deceit, than to make those things, which are most vile and base, to appear so precious, and of such esteem, that men pretend no∣thing greater, and being more changeable than the Moon, to appear constant and secure, in so much as we remain so satisfied with them, as if they were ne∣ver to change, and being fading and corruptible we seek after them as if they were eternal and immortal, remembring nothing less than their end and ours, for∣getting wholly that they are to perish and we to die? It is evident they are false, since they promise of them∣selves

what they neither have nor are. Those who work in prospective will so paint a room, that the light entring onely through some little hole, you shall perceive beautiful and perfect figures and shapes; but if you open the windows and let in a full light, at most you shall see but some imperfect lines and sha∣dows. So the things of this World seem great and beautiful unto those, who are in darkness and have but little light of heaven, but those, who enjoy the perfect light of truth and faith, finde nothing in them of substance. The felicity of this life is but a fiction, and a shadow of true happiness, and by that name is often qualified in holy Scripture, which excel∣lently expresses the nature of it. For the shadow is not a body, but a resemblance of a body, and seeming to be something, is nothing. The inconstancy also and speedy change of humane things deserves this name: because the shadow is alwayes altering, and ends on a sodain. And as the shadow when it is at length, and can increase no further, is nearest the end: so tempo∣ral goods and humane fortunes, when they are mount∣ed up as high as the starres, are then nearest to vanish, and disappear sodainly. And therefore one of the friends of Job faid,* 1.78 I saw the fool that he had taken deep rooting, and instantly I cursed his beauty; for the more firm he appeared to stand, the more near he was unto his fall. And David said, he saw the Sinner ex∣alted as a Cedar, but he endured no longer than he turned his eyes.

What is to deceive, but to publish that for truth which is not, and to promise that which shall never be accomplished? I leave to the witness of every one, how often the issue of their hopes have proved vain, not finding in what they desired that content which they expected. In riches they hope for peace and re∣pose, but meet with nothing but unquietness and cares, and many times with dangers and losses. For this Christ our Redeemer called riches deceits, saying,

that the Divine Word was choaked with the falshood and deceit of riches. He is not content with calling them false and deceitful, but calls them falshoods and deceits; for what can be more false and perfidious, then promising one thing to perform just the contrary? The prosperity of this world promises us goods, and gives us evils; promises us ease, and gives us cares; promises security, and gives us danger; promises us great contents, and gives us great vexations; promi∣ses us a sweet life, and gives us a bitter. With reason it is said in the Book of Job, that the bread,* 1.79 which the worldly man eats, shall be converted into the gall of Aspes; because that in those things, which seem ne∣cessary for his life as the bread of its mouth, he shall meet his death, and when he hopes for pleasure, he shall finde gall, and no morsel, which shall not leave some bitterness behinde it. There is no felicity upon earth, which carries not its counterpoise of misfor∣tunes: no happiness, which mounts so high, which is not depressed by some calamity. For as they anciently painted humane Fancy in the form of a young man with one arm lifted up with wings, as if it meant to flye towards heaven, and the other weighed down by some great weight, which hindred it from rising; so humane felicity, how high soever it soars, hath still something to depress it.

§. 2.

If we will evidently see how deceitfull are the things of this world, this is a convincing argument, that no man, after he hath enjoyed what he most de∣sires, is content with his condition, which apparently shews their deceit; neither doth any man cease to de∣sire more, though he possess the greatest and most am∣ple fortune in the world; which also argues their false∣hood, since they, satisfie not those who possess them. No man but envyes the life of some other, and grievs

and complains of his own, though far more happy. Constantine the Great, who was arrived at the height of humane felicity,* 1.80 said, his life was something more honourable than that of Neat-heards and Shepheards, but much more painful and troublesome. Alfonsus King of Naples said the life of Kings was the life of Asses, for the great burthens which they bear. So as in the book of Job it is said,* 1.81 that the Giants groan un∣der the waters. In which place (as Albertus Magnus ex∣plicates it) by the Giants are understood the mighty ones of the earth, upon whom it sends troubles and vexations, (for so the name of Waters signifie in that place of holy Scripture) which makes them groan un∣der the intolerable weight of them. They are like the Giants, which in great Cities are shewed at their so∣lemn Feasts; that which appears, is some great and stately bulk covered with Gold and Silks: but that which appears not, is the little poor man, which car∣ries it upon his shoulders, sweating, groaning, tyred and half dead with the weight. The Sumpter-mules of the Grandees of Spain, at their first coming to Court are loaden with great wealth of Silver, Vessel, Tissue-Beds, and rich Hangings, their Sumpter-clothes imbroidered, their Winding-staves of silver, their Cords of silk, with their great Plumes, their Bells, Bosses, and other Furniture. But although their load be rich and sumptuous, yet in fine it is a load and op∣presses them, and they are ready to faint and sink under the weight of it. So is Honour, Empire, and Command. Even King David confessed as much, and sayes, That his loyns were (as it were) disjoynted, and he was bruised and wearied with the burthen. Some Kings have said that, which is particularly re∣lated by Stobaeus of Antigonus, * 1.82 who, when he was crowned King of Macedonia, said, O Crown more noble than happy! if men knew how full thou art of cares and dangers, no man would take thee up, though he should finde thee in the Streets. And Dio∣nysius,

to express the anxieties of the life of Kings, said, it was like that of condemned persons, which e∣very hour expect death. This is signified by the Cup of Gold, which the Woman (that is Prosperity) who sat upon the Monster with seaven heads, (that is the World) held in her hand; which although it made a fair shew, yet was full of abomination: because there is none, who speaks not ill of his own condition, and many who seem most fortunate, abhorre their own lot, although it appear glorious unto others. Salomon was the King who most enjoyed the goods of this life; for he resolved to satiate himself with delights, even until he surfeited. He had a thousand Wives, whereof 700 Queens, and 300 Concubins; he had sumptuous Buildings and Palaces, Gardens, Orchards, Houses of Pleasure, Woods, Groves, Fish-ponds, excellent Mu∣sick, Men and Women Singers, the greatest and best ordered Court in the World, his Service and Vessels of gold and silver so sumptuous, as it caused admira∣tion in the Queen of Saba: His Cavalry consisted of 40000 horse, with furniture sutable, in perpetual pay. The Treasure, which his Father David left him, was according to Budaeus ten times greater than that of Darius King of Persia. Finally, he arrived unto that point of happiness and felicity in all kindes, that he himself admired it, and acknowledged himself for the most fortunate Prince in the world, and said,* 1.83 Who shall feed like me? and who shall abound in all delights and pleasures as I doe? Yet in all this prosperity, than which greater cannot be imagined by man, when he seriously cast his eyes upon it, he said, All was vanity and affliction of spirit; and was so discontented with his life, that he confessed it was tedious unto him, and that he detested the care he had taken about it: and envying the poor Laborer, judged it was better for one to eat of what he got by the sweat of his brows. If then such exccess of fortune, felicity, wealth, honour and pleasure deceived so wise a King as Salomon, who

will not he deceived? what shall we expect from some little part of felicity, when this flood of fortune could not bestow a contented and quiet life? What greater argument of the scarcity and littleness of tem∣poral goods, when all are not sufficient to fill a hu∣mane heart? But as they are not the things which they seem, so they afford not what we expect, and therefore no man is content with what he has, that still appearing better which is anothers.

And this proceeds from the deceit of humane things, that obtaining what we desire, and not finding that sa∣tisfaction which we expected, we envy the condition of others, thinking we should there meet with that content which is not to be had at home, which seek∣ing with much trouble, we at last come to know our errour, and find their condition worse than our own. This is well exprest by Antiquity in a fiction it made full of doctrine, wherein it feigned that the Cretans presented a Petition to Jupiter, that since he was born in their Country, he would be pleased to exempt them from the trouble and labours endured by others. Ju∣piter answered, that this was a Priviledge of those who were in heaven, and could not be granted to them who lived upon earth. Whereupon they framed a second Supplication, that it might be lawful for them to change and truck their labours and cares one with another. This was granted. Whereupon the next Fair-day every one trussing up his own troubles in a Fardel, and loading himself, brought them to the Market-place: but began, before they bargained, to search and look into those of others, and finding them more heavy and grievous than their own, every one returned to his house as wise as he came. The remedy of afflictions is not to flye from them, but to turn un∣to God, since they happen unto us for our forsaking of him. And it was a most high counsel of the Divine Providence, that no man should want afflictions, that so he might know his sins: and hoping onely for ease

and comfort in the next life and in God, he might acknowledge and onely serve him. Wherefore the Prophet Osee saith, that God deals with us,* 1.84 as a Hus∣band with a Wife, who had forsaken him, and sought after strange Lovers, who sowed thorns in her paths, that being wounded she might say, I will return un∣to my first Spouse; so God sows Gall and Worm∣wood in the goods of this life, that the Soul being afflicted may repent and turn unto him.

Another argument of the great deceit of temporal things is this, that the more we possess them, the more we covet them, and alter the experience of their little substance and power to satisfie our hearts, yet still we desire and gape after them. It is evident that this is a great cozenage, and a certain kind of witch∣craft, by which they snatch away humane affections at such a time as they should most avoid them. No∣thing satisfies, and yet we desire that which does not satisfie. How vain then are they, since when we pos∣sess them, they content us▪ not, yet we still desire more? All the power and felicity of his Kingdom, nor the greatness of his Palaces, nor being Lord of so many Cities and Fields could content Achab, unless he enjoyed the little Vineyard of his poor neighbour; which being denied, he fell sick with grief and melan∣cholly, flung himself upon his bed, and for meer rage and madness forbore to eat. O goods of the earth, where is your greatness, since the wealth of a rich Kingdome could not fill the heart of one man, but left it empty to desire more; and the want of one onely thing had more power to afflict him, than so many goods joyned together to content him? All things are as vain as this, since they cannot give us that for which we seek them;* 1.85 and therefore Ecclesi∣astes said; The Covetous man shall not be filled with coin, and he who loves riches shall not enjoy the fruit of them. And this is vanity.

Finally, from ail which is spoken either in this or

the former Books, may be drawn that consolation of in the Emperour Marous Aurclius in his Philosophy,* 1.86 where he sayes,

The time of humane life is a mo∣ment, the nature slippery, the senses darkned, the temperature of the whole body easily corrupted, the Soul wandring, the fortune, what it shall be, hard to conjecture, the fame uncertain, and, to be short, those things, which belong unto the body, have the nature of a river, and those, which belong unto the mind, are as smoke or a dream. Life is a warre and a peregrination, fame after death is forgotten. What is there then that can guide unto security. There is nothing but Philosophy, which consists in this, that thou conserve a mind without wound or stain, entire and undefiled, superiour to all grief and pleasure, that thou do nothing without a good end, nothing feignedly or falsely, and that thou regard not what another man does or has to doe: Besides, that all things, which happen, thou receive as sent from thence, from whence thou thy self art derived; Finally, that thou attend death with a quiet and tem∣perate minde.

This is from that great Philo∣sopher.

CAP. X.

The dangers and prejudices of things Temporal.

THe least evil, which we receive from the goods of this world, is to deceive and frustrate our hopes: and he comes well off, whom they forsake onely with a mock. For there are many who not onely fail of what they desire, but meet with what they abhorre, and in place of ease and content meet with trouble and vex∣ation, and instead of life finde death, and that which

they most affect turns often to their destruction. Ab∣solon being very beautiful, gloried in nothing more than his hair; but even those became the instrument of his death, and those which he daily combed, as if they had been threads of gold, served as a halter to hang him upon an Oak. To how many have riches, which they loved as their life, been an occasion of death? This is the calamity of the goods of the earth: which the Wise-man noted when he said,* 1.87 Another dangerous evil I beheld under the Sun, riches preserved for the destruction of their owner. This is the gene∣ral and incurable infirmity of riches, that when they are possessed with affection, they turn into the ruine of their possessors either in soul or body, and often∣times in both: in so much as we are not to look up∣on temporal goods as vain and deceitful, but as Parri∣cides and our betrayers. With much reason the two great Prophets Isaias and Ezechiel compare Egypt, (by which is signified the world and humane prospe∣rity) unto a reed, which if you lean upon, it breaks, and the splinters wound your hands. No less brittle than a reed are temporal goods, but more dangerous. Besides the other faults, wherewith they may be char∣ged, a very great one is the hurts they doe to life it self, for whose good they are desired; and are com∣monly not onely hurtful unto the life eternal, but prejudicial even unto the temporal. How many for their desire to obtain them have lost the happiness of heaven, and the quiet felicity of the earth, enduring before death a life of death, and by their cares, griefs, fears, troubles, labours and afflictions, which are cau∣sed even by the greatest abundance and felicity, before they enter into the hell of the, other world, suffer a hell in this? And therefore St. John writes in his Apo∣calyps, * 1.88 that Death and Hell were cast into a lake of fire, because the life of sinners, of whom he speaks, according to the letter, is a death and hell; and he sayes, that this Life and this Hell shall be cast into the

other hell: and he who places his felicity in the goods of the earth, shall pass from one death unto another, and from one hell unto another. Let us look upon the condition, whereunto Aman was brought by his abun∣dance of temporal fortunes, into so excessive a pride, that because he was denied a respect which was no wayes due unto him, he lived a life of death, smo∣thering in his breast a hell of rage, madness, and ha∣tred: nothing in this life, as he himself confest, gi∣ving him ease or content. What condition more like unto death and hell than this? for as in hell there is a privation of all joyes and delights, so oftentimes it hap∣pens in the greatest felicities upon earth. The same which Aman confessed Dionysius felt when he was King of Sicily: to wit that he took no content at all in the greatest delights of his Kingdom.* 1.89 And therefore Boe∣tius sayes, that if we could take away the veil from those who sit in Thrones, are clad in Purple, and compassed about with Guards of Souldiers, we should see the chains in which their Souls are enthralled; conformable unto which is that of Plutarch, that in name onely they are Princes, but in every thing else Slaves. A marvelous thing it is, that a man com∣passed about with delights, pastimes, and pleasures, should joy in nothing, and in the middest of dancing, drinking, feasting, and dainty fair should find a hell in his heart. That in hell amongst so many torments sinners should not finde comfort, is no marvail at all; but that in this life in the middest of felicity and afflu∣ence of all delights he should finde no satisfaction is a great mystery. A great mischief than is humane prosperity, that amongst all its contents it affords no room for one true one. But this is Divine providence, that as the Saints, who despised what was temporal, had in their souls in the very middest of torments a heaven of joy and pleasure, as St. Lawrence, who in the middest of flames found a Paradice in his heart: so the Sinner, who neither esteems nor loves any

thing besides those of the world, should also in the middest of his regalo's and delights finde a life of hell and torments, anticipating that, whereunto after death he is to enter and be confined. So great are the cares and griefs occasioned by the goods of the earth, that they oppress those who most enjoy them, and shut up the door to all mirth, leaving them in a sad night of sorrow. This is that which was represented unto the Prophet Zacharias, * 1.90 when before that the Devils came to fetch away the Vessel, wherein the woman was en∣closed, to be carried into a strange Region in the Land of Sanaar, there to dwell for ever, the mouth of it was stopt up with a talent of Lead, and she imprisoned in darkness and obscurity; signifying thereby, that be∣fore a worldling is snatcht away by the Devils to be carried into the mournful land of hell, even in this life he is hood-winked and placed in so great a dark∣ness, as he sees not one beam of the light of truth; so that no content or compleat joy can ever enter into his heart.

§ 2.

The reason why the goods of this life are trouble∣some and incommodious even to life it self, is for the many dangers they draw along with them, the obligations wherein they engage us, the cares which they require, the fears which they cause, the affronts which they occasion, the straights whereunto they put us, the troubles which they bring along with them, the disordinate desires which accompany them, and finally the evil conscience which they commonly have, who most esteem them. With reason did Christ our Redeemer call riches thorns, because they ensnare and wound us with danger, losses, unquietness, and fears. Wherefore Job said of the rich man,* 1.91 When he shall be filled, he shall be straightned, he shall burn, and all man∣ner of grief shall fall upon him; The which St. Gregory

explicates in these words.

He is first troubled with a weariness in seeking how to compass (sometimes by flattery, sometimes by terrours) what his cove∣tousness desires: and having obtained it, the sollici∣tude of keeping it is no less vexatious. He fears Theeves, and is afrighted with the power of great ones, lest they should by violence take his wealth from him; and if he meet one in want, presently suspects he may rob him; and those very things which he hath gathered together, he fears lest their own nature may consume them. Since then the fear of all these things is a trouble and vexation, the miserable wretch suffers in as many things as he fears.

St. Chrysostome also sayes, that the rich man must needs want many things, because he is content with nothing, and is a slave of his avarice, still full of fears and suspicion, hated, envied, murmured at, and made the enemy of all men: whilest the poor life, which walks the Kings high-way, secured and guard∣ed from Theeves and Enemies, is a Port free from storms, a School of wisdom, and a life of peace and quietness.* 1.92 And in another place he sayes thus.

If thou shalt well consider the heart of an avaritious and covetous man, thou shalt finde it like a Gar∣ment spoiled and consumed with moths, and ten thousand worms, so corrupted and overcome with cares, that it seems not the heart of a man.

Such is not the heart of the poor, which shines like gold, is firm as a rock of diamonds, pleasant as a rose, and free from fear, theeves, cares and sollicitudes, lives a an Angel of heaven, present onely to God and his service, whose conversation is more with Angels than Men, whose treasure is God, not needing of any to serve him, since he onely serves his Creator, whose slaves are his own thoughts and desires, over which he absolutely commands. What more precious than this, what more beautiful? But the little help, which humane life receives from temporal riches, cannot be

better exprest than by that which David sayes,* 1.93 The rich have wanted and were a hungred: but those who seek the Lord, shall not be defrauded of all good. If then the abundance of wealth cannot free us from the ne∣cessities of the body, how shall they rescue us in the griefs and cares of the minde?

Neither are honours more favourable unto humane life. What anguish of heart doth the fear of losing them cost us, and what shifts are we put to to preserve them? great are the inconveniences which many suf∣fer to sustain them, even to the want of necessary food.* 1.94 For as Pharao exacted things impossible from the Children of Israel, commanding that no straw should be allowed them for the burning of their bricks, and yet that the same Tax and number should be im∣posed as before: The same tyranny is exercised over many by the World, which takes away the stock and substance, which they formerly had to sustain them∣selves, and yet commands them still to maintain the same pomp and equipage, which they did when they enjoy'd it; so that many are forced by their ho∣nour (as they term it) to maintain a Coach and Lac∣kies, which they need not, when they have scarcely wherewith to feed their hungry bellies. In others what melancholly and sadness is sometimes caused by a vain suspicion, that some have thought or spoken ill of them? so many are the mischiefs and vexations, which this counterfeit good draws along with it, that many have given thanks to God, that he hath taken this burthen of honour from them, that so they might live in greater quiet and repose. Plutarch sayes, That if a man were offered two wayes, whereof the one led to Honour, and the other to Death, he should choose the latter. Lucian desiring to express it more fully, feigns that one of the Gods refused his Deity, because he would not be troubled with being alwayes honoured. He invents this lye to make us believe the truth, which we have spoken.

The excess also of pleasures what miseries doth it heap upon us? what infirmities doth it engender in our bodies? what torments and resentments in our consciences? for as he, who wanders out of his way without reflecting on it, is by the briers, bushes, pits, and unevenness of the ground put in minde that he hath lost himself, which, although he be otherwise well accommodated, yet troubles and afflicts him: So the wayes and paths of a delicious man cry out unto him, that he goes astray, and must therefore cause a melan∣cholly and a sadness in his heart.* 1.95 Well said St. Gre∣gory, that he was a fool, who looked for joy and peace in the delights of the world; for those are the effects of the Holy Ghost and companions of righte∣ousness, which are farre removed from the cares and vanities of the earth. Besides all our pleasures are so intermixt with trouble and importunities, that it is the greatest pleasure to want them. Epicurus, who was a great studier of pleasures,* 1.96 did, as St. Jerome writes, enrich all his books with sentences of tempe∣rance and sobriety; and he hath scarce a leaf which is not filled with pot-herbs, fruits, roots, and other mean food of small trouble: the sollicitude in setting forth of banquets being greater than the delight we receive in their abuse. Diogenes in the same manner, and other Philosophers, despised pleasures as prejudi∣cial to the commodities of life, passing for that cause their lives in great poverty. Crates flung all his goods into the Sea: and Zeno was glad his were drowned with a Tempest. Aristides would not admit the boun∣ty of Calicias; and Epaminondas was content with one Coat, living in poverty and temperance, to the end he might live with content and honour, and free from necessities, which are often greater amongst the rich than the poor. Riches make not their Masters rich, who live in perpetual covetousness, and are ne∣ver satisfied with their Coffers. Wherefore the Holy Ghost speaking of those who are called Rich, and of

the Poor of the Gospel, sayes, those are as it were rich, and enjoy nothing, and these are as it were poor, and possess all things. For which reason St. Gregory noted, that our Saviour Christ called not the Riches of the world absolutely Riches, but false and deceit∣ful Riches. False, in regard they cannot continue long with us; Deceitful, because they cannot satisfie the ne∣cessities of life.

§ 3.

It is more to be feared when the goods of this life cause the evils of the other, and that they not onely rob us of the content of the present, but occasion the tor∣ments of the future, and after one hell in this life throw us down into another after death. Well said St. Jerome in one of his Epistles, that it was a difficult thing to en∣joy both the goods present and to come, to passe from temporal pleasures to eternal, and to be great both here and there; for he who places his whole felicity in pamparing himself here, will be tormented here∣after: and he who is unjustly flattered and honoured here, shall be justly scornd and despised there. This was well declared by St. Vincent Ferrer in a compa∣rison of the Faulcon and the Hen. The Hen whilest she lives seeks her food in the dirt and dunghils, and at best feeds now and then upon some bran or light corn; The Faulcon to the contrary is cherished, carried upon his Masters fist, and fed with the brains of Birds and Partridges: but after death they change their conditions; for the Faulcon is flung upon the dunghil, and the Hen served to the table of Kings. As Jacob changed his hands, placing his right hand upon his Grandchild who stood upon his left side, and his left hand upon him who stood upon the right, preferring the younger before the elder; so God uses to change his hands after death, and preferre the

younger, who are the poor and despised in this life. For this Christ our Redeemer pronounces so many Woes against the rich of this world. Woe be unto you rich, who rejoyce in this world: yee shall weep in the next; Woe be unto you who are now filled: you shall hunger hereafter; Woe be unto them, who have their heaven here; it is to be feared a hell will succeed it. Let us tremble at what was spoken unto the rich glutton; Thou didst receive pleasure in this life: and for this eternal evils succeeded thee after death, changing hands with poor Lazarus, who received evils in this life, and after death enjoyed the pleasures of the other. The rich man, who wanted not abun∣dance of precious wines in this life, wanted a drop of water to cool his tongue in the next; And Lazarus, who here wanted the crums of bread that fell from his table, was feasted with the Supper of eternal happiness. The Prophet Jeremias writes that Nabu∣zardan carried a way▪ the rich Captives unto Babylon, * 1.97 and left the poor in Jerusalem; because the Devil carries away the slayes and lovers of riches unto Babylon, which is the confusion of hell, and leaves the poor in spirit in Jerusalem, which is the vision of peace, that they may there enjoy the clear sight of God.

The felicity of temporal goods blots out of our memories the greatness of the eternal; it makes us forget God, and the happiness of the other life; it blindes those who possesse them, busies them wholly in things of the Earth, and gives them that means and opportunities for vices, which the poor have not, who either work or serve their Masters, or pray. Wherefore the enjoying of temporal goods is so dan∣gerous,* 1.98 that St. Paul calls Riches the Snare of the Devil. And if in ail Snares there be falshood, and danger, how false and dangerous must be the Snares of Satan.* 1.99 Even Diogenes was aware of this truth, and therefore

calls them a Vail of malice and perdition. * 1.100 St. Jerome says, that anciently there were too notable Proverbs in prejudice of the Rich: The first, That he, who was very rich, could not be a good man; The second, That he, who was rich, had either been a bad man, or was the heir of a bad man; and admonishes us that the name of Rich in the holy Scripture is most commonly taken in an ill sense, and to the contrary in a favour∣able that of the poore. The truth is, that the holy Scripture is full of Contumelies against the rich of this world, and above all the Son of God, who uttered most notable and feareful expressions against those who abound in temporal goods; and therefore when he taught the Beatitudes, he gave the first of them unto the Poor: and in preaching the Woes he gave the first unto the Rich. And upon another occasion said, it was impossible for the Rich to enter into the Kingdom of heaven. And although he was willing to mitigate so hard a Sentence, yet he said, it was dif∣ficult, and so difficult, as might make the rich of the world to tremble; for he assure, us it is easier for a Camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the Kingdom of heaven. But with God nothing is impossible. From all that which hath been said may be gathered, how worthy of con∣tempt and hatred are all temporal goods, since they deceive us not onely of our content in this life, but of our felicity in the other, and even of God himself. What implacable hatred would a faithful and honest Spouse conceive against that Traitor, who counter∣feiting the shape and habit of her Husband should vi∣olate her Chastity? how would she abhorre him, when she knew the injury he had done her in a mat∣ter of that importance? In the same manner are we betrayed by temporal felicity, who appearing unto its in the likeness of the true happiness, makes our hearts to adulterate with it, and leave our lawful

Spouse and true good indeed, which is God. For certainly there is no perfect felicity but in his service, and complyance with his holy will in this life, that we may enjoy him eternally in the next; and therefore temporal goods, which by their deceit cozen us, and make us lose the eternal, ought not to be loved and followed, but hated as a thousand deaths.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Damas. in Par. l. 1.
• * 1.2

  Aur. An∣ton. l. 6. de vita sua.
• * 1.3

  Greg. l. 34. mo∣ral.
• * 1.4

  Apoc. 10.
• * 1.5

  Apoc. 15. Ribera & Cor∣nel.
• * 1.6

  Nazian. in Monod. Pli. l. 36. c. 8.
• * 1.7

  Pomp••n Mela l. 1. c. 9.
• * 1.8

  Sur. in Comm. an. 1517 Evag. l. 2. c. 1.
• * 1.9

  Euseb. de praepar. Hieron. in Dan. c. 1. Polusl. 2. rerum Indic. c. 68.
• * 1.10

  Nicol. de Com. in itin. apud Ram. tom. 1.
• * 1.11

  Plin. l. 6. c. 26. Sol. c. 3.
• * 1.12

  Cyp. in Epist. ad De∣met.
• * 1.13

  Joel. 1.
• * 1.14

  Psal. 68.
• * 1.15

  Petron. Arbit. tract. de leg. con∣mib. leg. non. num. 97.
• * 1.16

  Philo. l. de Jos.
• * 1.17

  Hom. de poenit.
• * 1.18

  Fulgos. l. 6.
• * 1.19

  Plin. l. 7. c. 50.
• * 1.20

  Gal. l. de Sim. ca. 11.
• * 1.21

  Benive. c. 15.
• * 1.22

  Alexan. Benedi. lib. 3.
• * 1.23

  Fulgosius l. 6.
• * 1.24

  An. 1285. Nicetas Chroniat. in annal. lib. 2.
• * 1.25

  Fulgos. l. 6.
• * 1.26

  Vide Pla∣tinam. Baro. Ful∣gos.
• * 1.27

  Cedren in Com.
• * 1.28

  Vid. Petr. Mex. in vita Ju∣stini. Cri∣nit. et Vo∣later.
• * 1.29

  Egn. l. 6. c. 10. Portan. l. 2. c. 8. de Fort. domest.
• * 1.30

  Jud. 1.
• * 1.31

  Max. an. 589.
• * 1.32

  Vid. Chr. Coriol. an. 668,
• * 1.33

  Petr. Da∣mi. l. 1. c. 10.
• * 1.34

  Ibidem.
• * 1.35

  Clim. gr. 15.
• * 1.36

  Heracl. in Parad.
• * 1.37

  Andr. E∣bor. Ex. mem. t. 2. de mor. & for. mut.
• * 1.38

  Procop. li. 2. de bel∣lo Van∣dalorum.
• * 1.39

  Hom. in Eutrop. tom. 5.
• * 1.40

  Lib. 2.
• * 1.41

  Apoc. 13.
• * 1.42

  Ep. 1 c. 2.
• * 1.43

  Ambros. l. 1. de Virgin.
• * 1.44

  Zon. To. 13. ex Othone.
• * 1.45

  Marc. Anton. l. 3. p. 200.
• * 1.46

  Jarricus in The∣sau. In∣dic.
• * 1.47

  Ro. in e∣jus vita lib. 2. c. 1.
• * 1.48

  In vita sua c. 9.
• * 1.49

  Lucian in Icaro∣menip.
• * 1.50

  Hom. 24. in Mat.
• * 1.51

  Hom. 14. de Ava∣ritia.
• * 1.52

  Fra. Pru∣den. de Sando∣val. Hist. De Car. 5. P. 2. l. 28. See. 36.
• * 1.53

  Glycas & ex eo Rad. in Aula Sancta cap. 12.
• * 1.54

  Hom. 66. ad pop.
• * 1.55

  Aurel. Anton. in sua Phi∣losoph.
• * 1.56

  Eccl. 3.
• * 1.57

  Stob. ser. 96.
• * 1.58

  Vide Pet. Bon. l. 3. Theatr. mundi.
• * 1.59

  Joseph. l. 7. de bel. Jud. c. 2.
• * 1.60

  Chrys. in Mat.
• * 1.61

  Hom. in Ascen.
• * 1.62

  Cicero de finibus.
• * 1.63

  Dubra∣vius l. 2. hist. Bo∣hem. an. 1418.
• * 1.64

  Aurel. Vict. in. Epitome vitae Ner∣vae.
• * 1.65

  Jovius l. 39. hist. sui tem∣poris.
• * 1.66

  Eccl. c. 4.
• * 1.67

  August. in Johan.
• * 1.68

  Ambr. Ser. qua∣drages.
• * 1.69

  Augus. trac. 5. in Johan. hom. 57.
• * 1.70

  Anton. in Mel. Stob. Ser. 96.
• * 1.71

  Dionys. Rikel. de noviss. ar∣ti. 15.
• * 1.72

  Innocen. de Con∣templa. mundi, lib. 1. c. 1.
• * 1.73

  Lib. 3. c. 1.
• * 1.74

  Bernard. c. 3. Meditat.
• * 1.75

  Lib. 11. de Praepa. Evan. c. 7.
• * 1.76

  In laud. Caes.
• * 1.77

  Chrysost. in Ps. 36.
• * 1.78

  Job. 5.
• * 1.79

  Job 21.
• * 1.80

  Euseb. in Orat. de laudibus Constan.
• * 1.81

  Job. 22.
• * 1.82

  Stob. Ser. 3.
• * 1.83

  Eccl. 2.
• * 1.84

  Osee 2.
• * 1.85

  Eccl. 5.
• * 1.86

  Lib. 2. in fine p. 185.
• * 1.87

  Eccle. 5.
• * 1.88

  Apoc. 20.
• * 1.89

  Tull. in Tuscul. q. Boet. l. de consol.
• * 1.90

  Zach. 5.
• * 1.91

  Job. 20. Greg. l. 15. Mor. c. 12.
• * 1.92

  Hom. 47. in Mat.
• * 1.93

  Psal. 33.
• * 1.94

  Exod. 5.
• * 1.95

  Hom. 10. in Eze∣chiel.
• * 1.96

  Hieron. contra Jovinian.
• * 1.97

  Jer. 39.
• * 1.98

  1 Ti. 6.
• * 1.99

  Laer. l. 9. c. 4.
• * 1.100

  St. Hie∣ron. in Algas. Ep. 84.