A sons patrimony and daughters portion payable to them at all times but best received in their first times when they are young and tender : laid-out without expence of money only in the improving time and words with them contained (in an answerablenesse to their ages) in two volumes ...

CHAP. IIII.

[Chap. 4] An Introduction thereto. Though the Branches of sinne are lopped in Baptisme, where it receives its deaths wound, yet the live Root remaineth; what the bitter fruits there from; how kept under from spread∣ing too farre, and running forth wilde.

AND now, leaving this inward frame of our revolting heart, I meane the fountain of ori∣ginall impuritie, or the body of death, as Paul calls it, to our most retyred thoughts, that so it may stirre up to continuall watchfulnesse and humiliation; I say, leaving that fountain or body of sin, I come to the members issuing thence, as the streame from the fountain, or as branches from the root: For though the current thereof be, in a good measure, stayed and stopt in Baptisme, by the sanctifying power of Christs saving bloud, yet it doth more or lesse bubble up in our rebellious nature: Though the branches are hew'd and lop't, yet they trust out again from their bitter root: Though the body of sinne be mortified, so as the power and dominion thereof is subdued, yet the life thereof is prolonged a 1.1; and the power thereof is (as the kingdome spoken of by Daniel b 1.2) partly strong, and part∣ly broken. So as here is still matter of our strife and com∣bate, as against an enemy dwelling within our Land, like the Canaanite in the border of an Israelite, to vexe, exercise, and prove us. I cannot reckon up the least part of that wilde fruit, which springs forth of this our so fruitfull stumpe, bound up fast within our earth, as with a band of Iron, and Brasse; But some three or foure or more branches I shall point at, which run most wild to the dishonour of our out∣ward man, and disturbance of our inward peace. And these I shall discover unto thee, that thou may est be most wary of them, and ever well provided and armed against them, as followeth; The first is▪

§. 1. Pride. [Chap. 4] [§. 1]

§. 1. I meane not that privy pride, springing up from a secret and unsuspected fountaine; even from an holy zeale, godly duties, good actions, not properly ours, yet flesh and bloud will lay claime unto them; And hath its seat in a sanctified soule, making it proud, that it is not proud, even of its humilitie. And therefore doth the same soule make its watch the stronger.

I meane that pride, whose root is discernable; and whose fruit soonest shooteth forth and declareth it selfe, defiling our outward members and inward faculties; lifting us up so much the higher in a windy conceit; the emptier and ligh∣ter we are upon the ballance, and the more wanting. And this, some call the Womans sinne. Indeed it is most un∣worthy, and unbeseeming a man; the truest testimony of weaknesse and vanitie. But yet,

Sith there is (as one no∣teth c 1.3) in humane nature, more of the foole, then of the wise;

we must grant it to be the Mans sinne also, per∣haps not so generally his, nor in the same degree. For, if we do grant, as ordinarily it seemes so, and is so concluded; That the inward powers of Iudgement, and Reason, are weaker in women, then in men; we must needs grant, That pride, as it is (till of late) more ordinarily discovered in that sex, then in the other; so it is, for the same reason, more incident unto them. They may have lesse inward worth, and beautie to commend them, and therefore do they the more paint, and adorne the outward. Likely it is, that they do not so well discerne the simple and naked truth of things, and therefore delight themselves in feathers, toyes, flattering conceits, false valuations.

They are not so well able to study nature, as men may and can, therefore may they (it is not proper to say they may, and yet more excuseable it is in them, then in men) they may please themselves with polished Art (at the best but natures Ape,) rather then with that, which is simple and naturall; with very app••arances, affectation, and pompe, ra∣ther then with reality and substance; rather with that which

is borrowed, then with that, which is proper and naturall.

Lastly, they may not be so able, to study themselves; The principles they consist of; The foundation they stand on; The vilenesse of the body; The excellent worth and dignitie of the soul; The faculties of both body and soul; The excel∣lency of that end, for which they received them. Where these defects and wants are (as in all they are; for naturally in all, as was said, there is more of the fool then of the wise) and the more or lesse they are in man or woman, ac∣cordingly will he and she, more or lesse reckon and account of falshood, and outward appearances, before verities; Ly∣ing and base vanities, before realitie and substance; and so are pay'd accordingly, with winde and counterfeit ware, in∣stead of currant commoditie; for these vain conceits, and false valuations will prove but poore and shrunken things in the end. For from hence it is (and so we may go through all things that do lift up man and blow up that bubble) hence it is, That our clothes, made for necessity and orna∣ment, yea to make us humble, and thankfull (humilitie and thankfulnesse still go together) do prove so contrary to those ends, priding us up in our own conceits, and disho∣nouring us in the eyes of others.

Hence it is that we are such Fashionists: so phantastick and changeable that way, That the Taylor can as hardly fit us, as the d 1.4 man (so goes the fable) could fit a garment for the Moon.

Hence it is, That our haire made to cover our scalp, doth in a windy humour to a base fashion, cover our face, and that part of it, which of any should not be covered: So that which was made for an ornament, (and we should finde it so, if we wanted but an eye-brow) is so nourished, and let to spread out so, that it makes the person look like afurie.

Hence it is, that we do tread like the Antipodes (if the word were proper) clean contrary to nature, hiding that, which should be covered, and covering that which should be hid.

Hence it is, That our eyes, feet, fingers, our whole ge∣sture

and deportment, do make so plain a Commentary upon the heart, That (if I may apply it so) he that runnes may read the present humour and state of the minde and will: so great a discovery of our dissimulations, the gesture is; for that speaks to the e 1.5 eye, as the tongue to the eare.

Hence it is, That the inward beauty is so neglected, and the outward so set out, and highly prized; when as beauty and strength will be much wasted by one fit of an Ague; yea f 1.6 quite gone in one night.

Hence it is, That Knowledge doth puff up, That Learning makes proud: which is not Knowledge indeed nor Learn∣ing, but our ignorance and going back wards, a windie and flatuous conceit of both. True Learning the more it is, and the truer it is, the more it humbles, the closer it lies, the lesse noise it makes.

Hence it is, That the rich mans wealth is his g 1.7 Strong Citie, and as an high wall; for all this is but in his own con∣ceit.

Hence it is, That men in eminency of gifts and place, are so taken up with the person, for a time put upon them; That they both in look, and speech, and gesture shew, that they forget their naturall condition; That they must lay aside their persons and dye like men; and give account, as stewards, what they have gained.

Lastly, hence it is, That our owne Righteousnesse seemes so lovely in our eyes, when as it is but like filthy rags and dung, such things we may not otherwise name, so filthy they are; And were it considered, it would help much to cast a spewing upon our glory h 1.8.

Thus we have seene, what it is, and whence it is, that blows up the vaine heart of man, making it think of it selfe * 1.9 above what is meet ⁱ.

And thence we may fetch helps, and remedies against its pride; for if it is but a vaine opinion, a flattering conceit, a false valuation of things, that doth deceave us; we must la∣bour to rectifie our judgements, and to understand the truth, and realitie of things, that we may not be deceived.

Secondly, if it be the want of the right knowledge, and true understanding of our selves, that makes us over-value our selves, we must learn to understand and read our selves, (a great and an hard lesson k 1.10) and our own principles, so as we may know our selves to be but men: poore weake men, deceitfull upon the ballance, and very wanting; The summe is, we must study how to rectifie reason, and to take a true scale, and a right estimate of our selves and things, not as they seeme and appeare to bee, but as they are indeed at first.

†. 1. Is it my apparell that would puffe me up, because my cloth is of a finer threed then some others is? This is a false valuation: for the sheepe had it on its backe before my selfe, yet was it but a sheep then, and the same now: so S^r. Thomas More would prick the bladder, and let out that windy conceit l 1.11.

†. 2. Is it the gorgiousnesse of my apparell, the pompe of the same, which would puffe me up? That were but a m 1.12 fan∣cy, and a windy conceit also. A poore ornament it is, which is put on and off. And a windy conceit it is, and most un∣worthy of a man, to be taken with the shining or glitter∣ing of some Gold-lace, or Iewell, who can point to the earth below him, to the Lilly there; And to the heaven a∣bove him, to the Sun and Starres n 1.13 there; so the same Au∣thor would let out that wind also.

†. 3. Is it the portion a man hath in the world above his brethren, which bloweth up the bubble? What is all that more then in conceit? neither a strong citie, nor an high wall: they cannot deliver in the day of trouble; It is but a meere conceit, we thinke they can. And what is a fat and ful possession of these outward transitory things; if there be leannesse in the soule; if that be blown up with these vani∣ties? As certainly it must be so, and can be no otherwise, when these outward things have stuffed and cram'd our hearts, so that they are made fat, and blown up with them.

An heart filled with this winde o 1.14, is as barren of true grace (pride and grace are incompatible) as the surface of that earth is, where these treasures are, which is as barren the naturalists) as the parched places of the desart. They are great snares and intanglements, and impossible they should be otherwise, without a great measure of grace from God (with whom all things are possible) and watchful∣nesse over our selves: which consideration should rather humble us.

Better they cannot make a man; therefore the Heathen would not have them called Good Things: But worse ordi∣narily, they make him; more proud against God; more insolent and oppressing over those that are below and infe∣riour unto him; And very unsatisfiable they are (and therefore disquieting also like thorns to the head:) we may as well undertake to fill a bag with wisdome, a chest with vertue; as our hearts with gold, silver, riches, high room with any earthly things, no reason those things should puff us up; or if there be reason in it, it is from our wisdome, which must be ceased from p 1.15; for why should we let our eyes fly upon that, which is not; so uncertain and fleeting it is; and being grasped after and enjoyed, doth presse us below our selves, even lower then the place whence it was digged.

†. 4. Is it an hairy bush of vanitie, let out to spread beyond its reasonable and due proportion, that would blow me up? That were a monstrous conceit; How can that adorne me, which hath proved an halter? or how can that commend me, which the Spirit hath concluded to be my q 1.16 shame.

A point of great impudency it is to fight with,

or go against and contrary not onely to our selves, but to nature also, saith Chrysostome upon those words.

Is it my pleated, curled, or cut haire, that makes me think of my self above what is meet? That is a very affrighting conceit,

for the Lord can make our head of haire to take the form sometimes of a great Snake, sometimes of ma∣ny little Serpents; as some in Poland and Germanie have found and felt, witnesse the bloudy drops their haire yeeld∣ed

being pricked, and the losse of their eyes if they cut it; saith the learned professour of physick in Padua. And me∣thinks saith r 1.17 M^r Bolton, (from his hand I have it) our monstrous fashionists both male and female; the one for nourishing their horrid bushes of vanitie; the other for their most unnaturall and cursed cutting their hair, should every houre fear and tremble lest they should bring that same noisome horrible disease in the haire (called the pli∣ca) upon their own heads, and amongst us in this king∣dome.

† 5 Is it the putting off the hat at a distance which lifts a man s 1.18 up? or the vain applause of the ignorant multitude? He must thank his money for that t 1.19. It is ordinary with some to gaze upon a gilded post; It was, manners make a Man, but now according to the old complaint, Money ^u.

† 6. Is it knowledge that would puffe us up? This were an empty conceit. We know, that, as in vessels, the more the liquour or matter of substance and worth comes in, the more the Aire goes out (it is the empty vessel that makes the noise:) so, the more we truly and indeed know, the more we are humbled in that we know. All my knowledge (and that all is but a little to that I know not) All separa∣ted from Christ (which the more it is, the more it hum∣bleth) will not advance me above the devil; nay, in re∣spect of my knowledge, I am (if a creature could be) infi∣nitely below him: I hold no proportion with him, none at all, but in my pride; that gives me some equalitie with that proud Lucifer, and makes me like him; In knowledge I am much inferiour. The Devil knows more then all the knowing Men in the world, and hath the experience of so many thousand yeares to help his knowledge; and yet it helps him not, but aggravates his judgement. And indeed how can a man reasonable think, but that that same gift, (suppose it knowledge separated from that, which S^t. Paul did onely desire to know) But that the same gift, I say, will prove unto him like Absaloms haire, it will be his ruine, which he hath used, abused rather against God the Giver of

the same; so fighting against Him, with his own weapons.

† 7. Is it eminency of gifts or place that would make me think my self some body? This were but an empty conceit neither; For the higher any one is in place, the lower he must be in point of office, and service towards those that are under him. At the best, we are but Stewards, and the more betrusted we are, the greater will our account be, and the more expected, what we have gained. And can it be reason∣ably supposed, but that, That mans reckoning will be very heavy, who, the more power was in his hand, the more he put it forth in the oppressing the meek of the earth, making them to groane under him (which is but an exorbitancy of power, or at the best but to exercise it as a jaylour, t 1.20 turning the edge of it against the Lord, and His servants: And the higher God raised and honoured him, the more he suppres∣sed goodnesse and dishonoured God; Turning his gifts, so bountifully bestowed, of nature, liberall maintenance, grace, all against the Giver, to the satisfying of his own lusts: for judgement causing oppression, and for righteous∣nesse a cry. Is it likely I say, but that mans reckoning will be very heavy u 1.21 at this point?

Again, how unreasonable a conceit is it, That our Lord Christ, taking upon Him the form of a Servant for us, and humbling Himself so low as the Crosse, should yet, with patience, long endure a proud servant, lifting up himself, in the pride of his thoughts, before an humble, and for his sake, an humbled Lord?

And how unreasonable also and altogether unbeseeming * 1.22 is it, That Man, poore silly man, should in all things seek himselfe, a 1.23 hunt after his own repute, his own glorie, when as the Lord of Glorie coming down from Heaven to seek Man, that was lost, sought not his own Glorie? b 1.24

Certainly this is an iniquitie, which greatly provoketh, and hath been, and is accordingly punished; for hence it is, That the sword is upon the right eye and arme; hence it is, that a man, proud of his knowledge is become blinde with light: proud of his vertue, is poyson'd with the Antidote;

Blown up with his Authoritie and height of his place and power, findes his rise hath proved his downfall, and his ladder his ruine.

Certainly for men to search their own glorie, is not ^c glo∣rie, * 1.25 it tends rather to ruine; examples whereof are written before us, as in Capitall letters: But of this before, and anon after.

† 8. Is it strength of Bodie, or comelinesse of parts? (which is the beauty of the same) Is it this or that, which makes us think better of our selves, then is meet? This also is but a false valuation, a vanitie d 1.26 tossed to and fro. If our strength lift up our heart, it will be to our e 1.27 destruction. Which is to be considered; so is this also, That, that is the f 1.28 true comelinesse, the best beauty, which a picture cannot expresse; yet no cause we should be proud thereof: for the outward comelinesse, as it is Gods work, and hath His Stamp and Superscription, we must prize it, and put an honour upon it too; but I must not be proud thereof; what I dote upon, will prove my sorrow; and what I am proud of, my snare; For the most part (as one notes) it makes a Dissolute Youth, and an Age a * 1.29 little out of countenance; though yet, if it light well, it makes Vertues shine, and Vices blush. But, however; It is not a thing to be proud of, for it is as Summer fruits, which are easie to corrupt, and cannot last: We cannot say of it, IT IS; g 1.30 It may change, if not vanish, in a very short time, in a night: one fit of a fever, of feare, of sorrow, may in one night, so quaffe up our spirits, that we cannot easily be known to be the men; witnesse a Noble-man in Charles the fifth his Conrt, as we reade in Lemnius. h 1.31

Oh, saith one i 1.32, That the creature should dare to exalt himselfe against God, who need not fetch forces from without, to trouble and molest us! if He let out the hu∣mours of our body, or the passions of our minde against us, we shall be an astonishment or wonder unto others, a terror and torment to our selves: man in his best estate is but vanitie.

If we could reade our selves, and the principles we con∣sist

of; if we could look down towards our feet, and see what our foundation is, then, certainly, our plumes, our high thoughts would fall flat down.

I remember how Pliny instructs the great men of the earth, by occasion of a childe smothered in the wombe, with the snuffe of a candle;

And thou, saith he, who art so proud, because thy bloud is fresh in thy veines, and thy bones full of marrow; thou that art so puffed up, be∣cause of some fulnesse, or some great estate falne to thee, may'st purchase thy death, at as low a rate as that childe, or lower; a ray son stone may choake thee, as it hath some others, so may a haire in the milke. He therefore weigh∣eth his life in a right ballance, who truly considereth how fraile he is;

so he concludeth a little chapter with a great lesson k 1.33.

It is a common Theame, yet worthy to be insisted upon; for if we did know our selves to be but men, we should have wiser and sadder thoughts; Therefore it is good to reade our selves. Our vile body, and the foundation it stands on, speaks out plainly that fall it will, we know not how soon. I knew a man (saith l 1.34 S^t. Austine) and one of a strong con∣stitution too, his legge slipt, and with that slip, a joynt out of place; so it laid him on the ground, and could not be cu∣red till he was laid underneath.

Sitting in a chayre, saith the same Father, is a safe po∣sture, but we know who fell out thence and brake his neck (as we remember one did out of his bed, that retyring and refreshing place). The case was extraordinary, for he was full of yeares, and as full of sorrows; And the news of the Arke weighed lowest; But it tells us the ordinary les∣son,

That death may meet us, when, and where we lesse look for it.

A m 1.35 Summer parlour seemes a safe place for repast and quiet; And a brothers feast n 1.36, hath no shew of danger; And yet the hand of justice hath met with the sin∣ner at both these places; which tells us, That He, who hath his breath in his nostrils, should not be proud, for there is

spare enough and in all places, at all times, and by the un∣likeliest meanes to let it forth.

I remember a proud Conquerour, demands in a bragge, what he should feare o 1.37? And it was answer'd in a breath, That which he feared not; which he found true, for soone af∣ter, that he least suspected, damp'd his spirits, and quite put them out. What I feare not, and thinke not off, is likely soonest to fall upon me; As he is likelier to spoyle me in my house, which he hath mark'd out in the day time, Then that person, whom I am warned of before my doore, and whom my eye is upon.

Oh, That silly man, should lift up himselfe in a windy conceit of that, which is not: who, before the next morning, may be laid upon his sick bed; and in a readinesse for the grave! what is our life? a vapour, saith Saint Iames; A p 1.38 wind saith another;

Not q 1.39 one constant wind neither, but every moment of an houre, let out and suck't in again;

like the Dove in the Arke, out and in, in and out, and then never returnes againe.

Doe not our eyes behold, how God every day overta∣keth the wicked in their journeys, how suddenly they pop downe into the pit? how Gods judgements, for their times come so swiftly upon them, that they have not the leisure to cry Alas. How their life is cut off like a threed in a moment? how they passe like a shadow? how they opened their mouthes to speake, and God tooke them even in the midst of a vain or idle word? And dare we for all this, talke so big, and lift up our selves in the midst of so great, and so many ruines? Now the Lord teach us to know of how senselesse, and heavy mettall we are made, and yet how easily blowne up with a little wind;

They are M^r. Hookers words, in his 2. Sermon upon Iude page 547.

But rather then our hearts should be lifted up against God, we should pray unto God, That He would put us in feare, that we might know, and know in good ear∣nest

q 1.40, that we are but men, wormes of the earth, dust and ashes, poore, fraile, corruptible creatures. All is contained in this word Men; one may be a learned man; another, a wise man; a third a strong man; a fourth an honourable man; If learning puffe him up, the consideration that he is a man, may abase his proud lookes; If wisdome make him proud (so true wisdome never doth) If he consider well he is a man, it will humble him; If strength make him thinke of himselfe above what is meet, let him know himselfe to be a man, he will thinke of himselfe as he is, and he will remember that God was his rock, and the high God his Redeemer. If honours lift him high, serious thoughts that he is a man will lay him low; but a man, like the first letter of a patent or limmed booke, which, though it hath large flourishes, yet it is but a letter r 1.41. There is a pretty fable or fiction, call it what we will, so we observe the lesson which the morall yeelds us. Alexander, they say, had a little-stone, which, being put into the ballance, would weigh down things of very great weight; but if dust were cast upon the stone, then very light matters would weigh down it. What doth this teach? said Alexander to his wise Clarkes; The lesson is plaine, answered they, This stone signifies, The great Alexanders, Emperours, Princes, Poten∣tates of the world; who, while they are, as they are, though no bigger then other poore men, yet they out weigh a thousand of them; but when they must dye, and dust is put upon them, then one poore man weigheth more upon the ballance then they. For a living Dog, is better then a dead Lion s 1.42. A great lesson it is to know our selves to be but men: In our very best estate upon earth, but vanitie.

†. 9. Is it thy own righteousnesse that is so lovely, and doth so sparkle in thy eye? Is it that, which, like the morn∣ning dew, or the Sun beames on the mud-wall, so glareth? Yes, that is it. God shall strike thee thou whited wall; what, because the Sun doth daine to cast his beames upon thee, glo∣ryest thou, as if thou wert the father of those beames t 1.43, thou did'st produce them? Boast on, but all such boasting is vaine; glory in these sparkles of a false light, but this is thy

judgement from the Lord; Thou shalt lie down in sorrow. ^t Thy glory will be thy shame. Thy confidence is as in an unfaith∣full u 1.44 friend, who in time of trouble will deceive, like a bro∣ken tooth, and a foot out of joynt x 1.45. Our own righteousnesse y 1.46 dealeth deceitfully, like the streames of brooks, when it is hot, and there is need of them, they are consumed out of their places; and we shall be confounded because we ho∣ped. We never heard of any, that durst trust to it (I mean this self righteousnesse) on their death-bed, when they were making ready for their appearance, and knew themselves to be but men; Then, though before they were content to live in a righteousnesse of their own, yet they are glad to die in the righteousnesse of another a 1.47.

But to help us against this monster (so Luther calls an opinion of self righteousnesse) pray we, that the Lord would rip up before us the foundations of our nature; shew us the Rock whence we were taken, and what an hard rockie stone the heart is, which no ministerie, nor miserie; no braying in a morter; no judgements, though made sick with smiting; nor mercies, though made new every morning; none of all these can possibly break, can possibly mollifie. The conside∣ration of such an heart would surely humble, if we could consider it heartily. I will conclude this in M^r Hookers words, b 1.48 which are these. It may seem somewhat extreame, which I shall speak, but let every one judge of it. I will onely make a demand; If God should yeeld unto us, not as unto Abraham, If fifty, forty, thirtie, twenty, yea, or if ten good persons could be found in a Ctie, for their sakes that Citie should not be de∣stroyed: but, and if he should make us an offer thus large; search all the generations of men, sithence the fall of our Father Adam, finde one man, that hath done one action, which hath past from him pure, without any stain or blemish at all, and for that one mans onely action, neither man nor Angel shall feel the torments, which are prepared for both. Do you think that this ransome, to deliver men and Angels, could be found to be among the sonnes of men? The best things, which we do, have somewhat in them to be pardoned. How then can we do any thing meritorious, or wor∣thy

to be rewarded? And so much to fortifie us against this monstrous conceit of self-righteousnesse.

In the last place, the strange judgements of God, upon the proud should be still in remembrance;

how c 1.49 He hath decked Himself with Majestie, and cast abroad the rage of His wrath; for, in effect, He telleth Iob, that so He doth, He doth abase the proud and bring him low,

d 1.50 Worms have consumed them; They have with the Serpent e 1.51 licked the dust. Nebuchadnezzar is a great example hereof, so is He∣rod; He also, who was a great f 1.52 Mountain before the Luthe∣rans, and quickly made a plain; He bent his hand against the Apple of g 1.53 Gods-eye, and he both commanded and armed that hand, which thrust forth the Apple of his: hereon a story depends, which, for some reason, I relate not here; he that can may reade it at large, or very little abridged

(Epi∣tomies h 1.54 are, as the Noble Advancer saith, but mothes, cor∣ruptions and canke••s of Historie)

by O siaander. cent. 16. lib. 3. cap. 34.

But we may look into a place nearer hand, and a fitter looking glasse for a woman, where we may see how the Lord did retaliate those proud dames (Esay 3) proportio∣nating their punishment to their sinne, and to the severall parts, wherein they offended, verse 24.

Thus, childe, I have been more particular touching this sinne; The causes, The workings of it, The remedies against it, That in something or other, some instruction or other may take hold and perswade with thee; That thou mayest take heed of pride, and vain▪glory, (as all is vain that is in, and of the Creature: That glory is not good) Glory belongs to God, (Souls i 1.55 have no sexes in the better part, male and female, they are both men) to man, shame and confusion. God will not give His Glory to another: if man do take it, it will be his destruction. Thankfulnesse must be our return to God for His blessings; whether of body, minde, or goods. If they lift us up, we provoke God highly, fighting against him with His own weapons, which will be as a sword in our bones.

Consider again, by what hath been spoken, how true it is, and what reason there is for it; That the proud, the fool, and the sinner are convertible terms through the whole sa∣cred Scripture. The Lord make us wise by it, purge out all pride in self-pleasing and self-seeking; That in whatsoever we do, and in whatsoever we have, in all, and for all, we may give all the honour and glory to the onely wise God, to whom all honour belongs and is due.

Take heed of ta∣king from God to set up thy self; put not that to thy ac∣count, which belongs to Him; take heed of sacrificing to thy strength, or parts; acknowledge that all the excel∣lence of all thy actions is of Him. God is very jealous of His honour, and oftentimes leaves His people to feel their own weaknesse, because they honoured not His strength. If the faculties of thy soul bring in willingly and plenti∣fully, offerings unto God, say with David, (when so much store with much freenesse was brought-in by the people to build the Temple)

Now k 1.56 our God we thank Thee; for all things come of Thee, and of Thine own hand have we gi∣ven Thee. All things come of Thee, we give-back but what Thou gavest first. Without Thee nothing we have, and no∣thing we can do. This acknowledgement befitteth us, who have spent and cast away all our stock, and do sit now at the receit of a free-mercie. And this debasing of our selves so low that we can go no lower, even to a l 1.57 nothingnesse in our selves, is farre from being a base thing: This abasement, if it be in truth and sinceritie, is an excellent grace, the very root of grace springing-up, and so setting out and adorning the whole man, All the parts, powers, faculties, of all. But a root it is, which groweth not in our own soil: No: As every good and perfect gift, so this comes down from above. God gives it, and to such He gives it, (it is Avila's m 1.58 note) Who digge deep in their own dung, taking up and ruma∣ting upon their faults and frailties; amongst those poverties and miseries is this pretious jewell to be found: for prying narrowly thereinto, a man shall see cause enough not onely to be humbled, but even confounded. And then he that before could not live

with any body, no nor with himself in peace, can now live with all the world, keeping the unitie of the Spirit in that bond; for he hath learned mercy, and judgement., and to walk humbly with his God. And this humble walking, is the very note and character of a good and holy man. It was the mark whereby the Anchorite n 1.59 would have his couhtrey∣men judge of Augustine, Englands supposed saint;

If, saith the Anchorite, he be gentle, and lowly of heart, he carrieth the yoke of the Lord, and offereth to you to carry the same: But if he be disdainfull and proud (so they found him) then it is certain, he is not of God; you need not regard him.

Such a distinguishing qualitie Humilitie is.

O then be clothed with humilitie, let it come within thee as water, and like oyl into thy bones, it will soften and mollifie thee; It will make thee fruitfull, like a garden wa∣tered from the clouds.; It will beautifie the whole outward man, setting it and keeping it in good frame, and order; The eye will be low, thy speech soft, meek and gracious, thy gate comly, thy whole deportment as befitteth a Christi∣an, exalting the dignitie of that Name, as pride doth folly; for certain it is, as was pointed at before; The more true grace comes into the heart; the more (as it is in the filling of vessels) the aierie and windie conceits go out; The high∣er indeed and in truth, the lower in our own appearance, the viler in our own eyes, and yet we are content to be more vile, that God may be the more glorified; The Trees of righteousnesse are just like that tree we reade of, whose root was just so much beneath the earth, as the top * was in height above it. The higher they grow up to perfection, the deeper they take root downward in * 1.60 humilitie, considering they have nothing of their own but sinne, and it were foo∣lish and impious to be proud thereof. I conclude this with that of the Wise man: * 1.61 Better it is to be of an humble spirit, then to divide the spoile with the proud: Better indeed; for with such an on, the high and lostie on doth dwell o 1.62 So little, (for it is little, which man can say or do) to the plucking up this root of bitternesse, which so defileth, and the planting

in the contrary grace; that root of holinesse, which so beau∣tifyeth [Chap. 4] [§ 2] and adorneth.

§. 2. Our darling sinne.

The next sinne, which we should be armed against, I cannot presently name; that belongs to every ones owne heart to do, for I meane that sinne, which every man may more properly call his iniquitie p 1.63; not, but that every sinne is properly ours, and we must own it, except that, which the divell doth cast in (and that we make ours also, if we give it lodging, or suffer our hearts to brood upon it, as an hen upon eggs) every sinne, I say, is ours, for we have with∣in us the root of all. But this is ours more peculiarly, our heart is more endeared unto it; it is its beloved sinne and dar∣ling corruption, as hardly parted with, as a right eye, or arme; such mastery it hath in the soule, so it besets our nature, and so hotly chargeth the same; And then most likely it is, that sinne, which one calls, The great q 1.64 Enchantresse of mankinde, he means sensuall pleasure; for the most are bewitched with it; how have the strong falne by it? It is that which makes the wise become fooles; Nay, it is folly in the Abstract r 1.65; folly in Israel, and as one of the fooles in Israel; So we reade, where we read of one, that would drink the poyson of this Sorceresses cup; which, being first presented, infatuates a man (unlesse the watch within be the stronger) and gives him not so much time as to thinke s 1.66 what do I? and so ha∣ving put out the light of a man, which is his reason and un∣derstanding, like some murtherers I have read of, she kills with embracings t 1.67: or if not so (but so it is) she sends forth man, that lordly creature, to feed on husks, among swine, such emptie things; or (to give it the fayrest interpretation) she sends forth man (a wise and discerning creature, when he is himselfe)

to gather u 1.68 garlands in the May game of the world, whose flowers wither, while he doth discourse of their colour, or is in gathering them.

It is likely, could we take but so much time as to aske, what do I? what is the bait I am now swallowing? That quiet and peace I am now forfeiting? what is the shame I

am now drawing on me? we would resist and thrust it from us, with as much earnestnesse, as Paul did shake the viper from his hand, and as we would a spider creeping up our breast. But she deales with man, as Delilah with Sampson, shee closeth his eyes first, then weakneth him; or rather, as the Philistines afterwards, they pluck out his eyes, and then they put him to the Mill.

Were it not, That just so, pleasure did first quite stupifie the judgement, and put reason out of office, so taking away our crown, & putting out our candle, it were not possible, that a reasonable creature, sad and serious in other things, should give his x 1.69 life for his pleasure; his part in Paradise for his pre∣sent satisfaction in Paris, yet so, we read, some have spoken, so we know some have done y 1.70; for pleasure is deceitfull, it promiseth faire, but deceiveth, or changeth our wayes.

Every sinne, except one; The a 1.71 taking of Gods Name in vaine

(And yet nothing more common, though it hath no profit to allure, unlesse the hate of good men, and Gods curse be accounted an advantage, nor pleasure to intice, for it satisfies no one appetite, except everlasting sorrow, and hell dwell in our desire)

every sinne I say, but that one, pleasure more specially, comes disguised and sophisti∣cated, like a pill of poyson, guilded over, or a sugered cup, so it goes down sweetly, but it kindles a fire in the bowels, it tickleth the heart in the beginning, but frets and pricks it in the end: It is pleasure in the doing, sorrow when it is done b 1.72 (And that is the best fruit that can be expected) Thence it is we reade of the deceitfulnesse of sinne c 1.73: The wick∣ed worketh a deceitfull worke d 1.74; Deceitfull lusts. And all this we know, and are as sure of, as we certainly know, That worm wood is bitter, and honey is sweet, it is not conceit on∣ly, but the nature of the thing it selfe, we know it to be so, in the issue, it will be so: universall experience hath so con∣cluded it, and assureth us; That, as they say of the Scorpion, e 1.75 being taken into the hand, it will seeme to play about it, and make pretty sport by its wrigling, then suddenly stingeth to death; so pleasure, it will be bitternesse, it will sting

like a serpent in the latter end, and we know it will do, so when we are our selves; we know it, I say, as certainly, as we know that coales in the bosome will burn, and pitch in the hand defile, for it is the nature of the thing: And yet such is the distemper of fancy, and so it darkeneth, that we cannot judge soberly of things, we cannot consider them as they are; For sinne, coming so disguised, and upon advan∣tage of our distemper, is much more plausible then vertue, and goodnesse; And meere falshood, having a better out∣ward appearance f 1.76, (at lest more pleasing to such, who re∣gard but the present) takes more advantage over us by sub∣tiltie of Argument, and cunning perswasion, then truth doth: for our corrupt nature gives us nothing towards the entertainment of this, but very much for that.

And therefore the counsel is to be followed; fly from foolish and hurtfull lusts; There is motive enough, that they are youthfull, foolish, hurtfull; we must not come neare them; at the first encounter they strike at the eye. There is no parling with them, then we must come too neare. We must not be carefull what to answer; if we come to that, we come too neare. He that parleth with such an enemie, will yeeld at last; And then he that before might have gi∣ven his enemy law, must now take it from his enemie. Its easier not to taste of this cup at all, then tasting not to drink g 1.77 deep; easier to keep from the pits brink then to keep our selves from falling in; or, being in, from falling infi∣nitely; it is hard staying down the hill, to refrain the minde in a precipice. It is easier to give a peremptory answer, then to stand out in continuall solicitation. Every sinne, as well as that specially mentioned by the Apostle, Acts h 1.78 13. verse 10. is easie to corrupt nature, and being once committed, is more easily repeated, and pursued; The first act drawing on the second, the second the third, &c. still with more eagernesse towards satisfaction, but never attaining the same. A fall into sinne, is like a fall down a ladder, it is hard to stop.

A little fall i 1.79 saith one, in relation to a great one, lieth as close, as doth the Eve to the Holy day. Where∣by

we learn to withstand the beginnings,

first assault or in∣croachment [Chap. 4] [§. 4] of this subtill enemie. I will speak confidently, saith k 1.80 Chrysostome, though you will think it a strange speech;

We must be more circumspect and cautelously wary, we must more fortifie and immure our souls against small, * 1.81 triviall sinnes, sinnes of no account with us, then we need to do against great and mighty sinnes: For these latter, such is the nature of them, and such our natures, that, as a sick stomack, we turn away at the naming of them. But our small * 1.82 and light sinnes

(if we may call them so, as so we may in comparison, though in it self, no sinne is little, being committed against a great God and an holy * 1.83 law)

our light sinnes, I say, make us slack and * 1.84 negligent, we may do so, and so, is it not a very little sinne, and yet our souls may live? so we say, and so we do, not considering how farre a little and a little may leade us: We see much folly committed in Israel; fornication and adultery both (in this the Father doth instance, as in some more horrible sinnes, but this to our purpose here) whence had this uncleannesse its originall? From a very small be∣ginning in our account (l 1.85 though nothing is to be ac∣counted a small thing, which leads to great) A wanton cast of the eye, or a vain word, whereof we make no ac∣count. By all meanes withstand the beginnings, immure thy self well against them, for the devil by insensible de∣grees, will leade thee from very small sinnes to very great.

Therefore we must first prevent all occasions and becks of pleasure; we must not go to such * 1.86 places, nor frequent such company, where we are sure to meet with her solicitations. If Balaam (I mean him, who layeth a stumbling block be∣fore m 1.87 Israel) if he do but counsell onely and no more, and obtain so farre by his counsell, that the n 1.88 occasion be offered, so as Israel and Moab may come to an interview, that they may see each others faces, and be present at each others sa∣crifices;

Then folly will be committed by Israel, there is no doubt of it.

He that doth not avoid occasions, what may be, doth, as I may say, tempt o 1.89 temptation; he doth provoke his lusts & the devil to tempt him; he makes his own desires and suffers evil to be prepared, which is a great point of folly p 1.90.

And if I must avoid occasion, I must avoid idlenesse, for It is the devils occasion; I must not sit slothfully at home, or walk negligently, when others are gone forth or else pre∣paring for battell q 1.91; if I would not sleep, I must not sit down. Idlenesse is the very houre of temptation; The devils tide▪ time, when he carrieth the soul downward, and with ease. We must up and be doing; Labour is the pickle of Vertue, it keeps our faculties of body and minde sweet and fresh, as the pickle keeps fish and flesh, but hereof before.

But it may be we cannot possibly avoid the occasions; As it is said of offences, occasions will be; how then? Then we must avoid them, what is possible. It is a great r 1.92 mockery (but God is not mocked, we are deceived) to pray, Lead us not, when we leade our selves, into temptation, by making desires and matter of trouble to our selves; It is as if we should pray to the Lord to keep our house, while we leave s 1.93 win∣dowes, doores, gates, all open.

Therefore in the second place, though I cannot alwayes avoid the occasion; yet alwayes I must look to my cove∣nant, and the keeping the watch strong over my outward senses especially my ^t eye, which is the light of the body. And I must be very carefull to look unto my imagining fa∣cultie, or fancie, for that hath great power to darken and put

out my inward light of Reason, and Iudgement; first then;

1. I must keep a strong watch over my senses; especially my leading sense, u 1.94 for that is a gadding instrument, and loves to be looking into every corner of the x 1.95 world. I must shut the windowes at which sinne enters; And (as there is great reason) I must suspect my succours within, for there is the Sinon I mean the Traitor. The eie is a sense of the greatest certaintie; that it is, & of the greatest deceit too. There began the first temptation, & from thence evil hath had its first rise ever since. There are two maine reasons of this deceit (The Opticks reckon 20) 1. The object is full of deceit; A thing may seeme crooked and be strait; so may a thing seeme right, and be evill. 2. This organ or instrument may have its suffu∣sions, and then it will be deceived sure, for it is in no case to judge. Our charge then is, and it concludes our rule too;

Ye shall do that, which is right, according to your rule, Gods will revealed in His word; ye shall not do that, which is right in your own eyes y 1.96, for that stands most crooked to your rule.

There is no sense you can worse trust then your eye, specially when pleasure hath corrupted it, cast dust into it, and it is full of it, even quite over cast with it. We must then with all our observation, observe our eye, for it is plea∣sures great Leader, and Commander; And from the roofe he saw z 1.97: I will not looke up on that, which I may not touch▪ said one, who made good use of Eves eating the forbidden fruit, And Achans taking the accursed thing a 1.98. If I restraine not mine eye, it is likely I cannot restraine mine hand, nor my heart; for now that sinne, like a teare b 1.99, hath dropt from my eye to my breast▪ it is likely it hath, though not by force, yet by cunning and plausible perswasion, and subtle com∣plying, taken that fort, or framed it to a readinesse of yeeld∣ing ere long. He must be more then a man, whose heart doth not walk after his eyes c 1.100.

It is very evident; That our senses do deceive reason, and beguile the understanding; Great authoritie they have o∣ver us, else we would not turne them away, when we are to be let bloud or launced; And the falls of great men have

told us, That the sense being left at randome, hath van∣quisht and quite overcome all former resolutions, of vertue and patience; Therefore looke to those out windowes d 1.101, and keep out from entring there; An enemy is better kept out then driven out. It is a point of wisdome, to make our selves strong against the first encounter: but a point of va∣nitie and folly, to open the doore upon his enemy, to try masteries upon the threshold. There is a kinde of honey (saith Zenophon) which works according to the degrees of comparison; A little maketh drunk, more maketh mad, the most killeth. Beware of this little, it will draw on to the tasting of more, and if more, the working thereof will be very like this we heard off, deadly.

This letting in of this little, by the eye or eare, is like the letting in of a little thiefe by a little window, who opens the doore and gates, for the greater theeves to enter and to make spoyle. Looke we carefully to this covenant with our eyes, or else all former resolutions will be broken, for the eyes are Panders for pleasure, Purveyers and Caterers for lusts: As in some cases our eyes watch for us, so, in this case, we must watch our eyes.

2. And we must look well too, and keep a strong watch over our imagination: That is a gadding facultie also; and we must follow it with our best observation, as a mo∣thers eye doth her little childe, which is newly out of her armes, full of action, and still in harmes way, so we must observe our fancy; That works day and night; when the eye is bound up, that is waking, and busily employed. This imaginative facultie is the souls first wheele, ever turning, and naturally to evill; and yet, as that moves, so the other wheeles stirre.

But it is said; That it is impossible to have command of [Object.] the fancy. It is the old and common objection; few are morally able to apply themselves all the day to exercises be∣comming the day: And then when darknesse commeth, to command the fancie, to busie it selfe about that, which, ac∣cording to rule, was done in the day time, impossible this.

It is so. Few are able: none are able: Few morally able; no man possible able to do as was spoken, and, when dark∣nesse comes, as we heard. Moses hand, though a servant of the Lord, and mightie through Him, will quickly be wea∣ried and hang down; It is the propertie of the Lords Arme to have it stretched out still. And this Arme of His can do, what He pleaseth; He can make a brittle glasse to hold to∣gether, though knockt against a stone; This He can do, and this He hath done, but it is very extraordinary. He can make Moses endure fortie dayes together, and keepe his thoughts, as his body was, in the Mount all that time. But these are extraordinaries, and they serve like scaffolds at the first founding, and raising of a Church; and when the build∣ing is up, the scaffolds go down; we say then; That none are able to do as we heard; A man is supposed in a Christian e 1.102. And yet we say, and we say truth, that a man may command his fancy. It hath great power over us, and we some over it, if we have not, we shall be as the swine. We must not despise what the Philosopher teacheth in his Ethicks;

That a just f 1.103 man is differenced from a man unjust, not by sleep, but by dreames.

And we must not deny that to the fancy, in moralls, which Aristotle thought possible. The words im∣mediately before, were once well weighed, though by some, now found light. They are these, or to this purpose. It is possible that our fancy in the night, may hold some conformitie with the dayes employment, for if our minde in the day-time be intent upon good employment, and well fixed thereon, our sleepe may rellish of the same employment also; and our fancy may make return of something, whereof we so fastened on in the day, as well as it will do in other vanities. The fancy indeed is a wild and ranging thing: As it may be affected by the eye, and from the stomack, we can command it no more then a flock of geese in a meadow, or of birds in the skie: if there be a distemper in the belly or g 1.104 brain, the fancy follows it; and by the representations thence, we shall see plainly it doth; if the guts be in the head, and the braines in the belly (so it is with some men, as Agrippa to his friend) the fancy will be

out of order, as it is certainly out of place, for it will be in the belly too, still where the brains are.

The Poet k 1.105 hath re∣solved the case long since,

what we think on in the day, we dreame on in the night. He that eagerly seeks prefer∣ment in the day, may perhaps think his bed the Court, and so solicite the businesse in his sleepe. The fancy moves, as the dayes employment acteth it; As we practice in the day, we fancy in the night. If a man follow vanitie in the day∣time, his fancy will represent it on the bed; But he whose practise is contrary, shall finde a contrary working. The Preacher i 1.106 gives us a good lesson.

In the multitude of dreames, and many words there are also divers vanities: But feare thou God.

If thou fearest God, thou needest not feare thy fancy, nor thy dreames;

Thou shalt not be a∣fraid yea thou shalt lye downe, and thy sleepe shall be sweet k 1.107.

Briefly then and directly to conclude the Answer, we cannot, when darknesse comes, and we are closing our eyes, we cannot then determinate our fancy to this or that object specifically: This were a conceit and fancy in∣deed too light to trouble our tongue or pen withall. It is as impossible so to do, as to preach sleeping, as one made beleeve he could, and all beleeved him, who knew not; That [Answ.] preaching was a worke of a waking man. But this we say also, That we may so imploy and exercise our imagining facultie in the day-time, that the same facultie may relish and taste of the dayes employment. This is possible, nay it is not possible to be otherwise. Therefore, I say not, we may, but we must give all diligence to watch, and wake over our fancy, thereby to determinate it to good, which is possible, through Him we can do all things: for this determinati∣on makes such an impression, and sets, as I may say, a Bias upon the fancy in the day-time, that accordingly it runs, when the outward senses are bound.

We allow for humane infirmities, and know, through grace, they are dispensed with; And we may grant also, what the Philosopher hath said and concluded: If a man

could be cōmanded to think nothing by himself, but what he should presently speak out, he nor no man were able to endure it, though but for one day l 1.108. But because we cannot attain to such a puri∣tie as we should strife after, just with the Copie, we may not wallow with the Swine: And what we cannot have an absolute command over, we will not cast away our power wholly, as who will take no charge over it at all. There are many in the world, who say they cannot, when indeed they will not; they question their power, when they should their will, and they take from their power bestowing it up∣on their lusts.

So much to shew, we may have power over our imagi∣nation if we have not lost the power over our selves; Now it follows, That we must exercise the said power and charge, or else we shall lose our selves in the emptie con∣ceits and Mazes thereof. Imagination seemes an emptie windy thing, but hath reall effects; for there is a mutuall working and reflux, between the will and the imagination; Imagination stirs up the will, and as the will is affected, so imagination worketh; And therefore they whose will is guided by their fancies, live more like beasts then men (in whom phantasie is the chiefe ruling power) and so we fall lower then the beast. For if we roule wickednesse about in our imaginations, like a sweet Morsell under the tongue, we do, in so doing, personate these m 1.109 pleasures, which we have not opportunitie outwardly to performe, which is called speculative wickednesse, and greatly defileth the man, and dishonoureth God, and so answerably provoketh Him, even to give us up to our imaginations, and to cast us loose into the lap of our Delilahs, or lusts, which is the greatest judgement in the world: for when sinne is let into the soule by the eye, and rouled about by the imagination, it will quickly, like a canker, eat out all the grace in the soule; and then what follows, but a filling of our hearts with Sa∣tan, and in the end a reaping the fruit of our own wayes?

If we suffer our fancy to brood upon lusts, we shall hatch Cockatrice egges, or weave Spiders webbs, the issue will be

mischiefe or vanitie, and so we shall weave the web of our own sorrow and shame. Therefore we must watch over our thoughts, if we regard our peace, whereof watchfulnesse is the preserver. They may make a through▪fare in our minde, they must not get entertainment nor lodging there n 1.110. And that we may be afraid to think before God, what we are ashamed to do before men, we must consider; first,

1. That we have to do with an holy God, who specially sees the heart, and requires puritie there; It is our spirits with whom God, who is a spirit, hath most communion with all;

And the lesse freedome we take to sinne here, the more argument of o 1.111 sinceritie, because there is no Law to binde the inner-man, but the law of the Spirit of Grace, whereby we are a law to our selves. But on the contrary, the more way we give to wicked imaginations, the more we shew, what our actions would be, if we dared ^o, for if we forbeare doing evill out of conscience, we should as well forbeare imagining evill, for both are alike open to God and hateful to Him;

And therefore oft, where there is no conscience of the thought, God gives men up to the deed.

The chiefe lesson then is this; As we desire and expect to have communion with God, we must addresse our spirits before Him ^p; we must be pure not in body only, but in heart also; nay we must be in our measure pure and holy as He is, if we look to see Him as He is.

We must consider withall; That our unclean spirits, make us like that Spirit, who, though he commits no cor∣porall uncleannesse (some tell us of sexes in divels, or assu∣med by them, and of their filthinesse that way ^q) yet he is called an uncleane spirit; And as he is, he is called, which tells us, That the uncleannesse of our spirits and hearts, as it is the greatest defilement, so it doth make us most like the divell. And therefore if this uncleane spirit, or our selves have stirred a sinke in our soules, we must not stirre it more by our imagination, but, as we use to do, when a sink is stirred, we go into a sweeter roome; so we must remove

our thoughts, and take off our imagination, from stirring and puddering in that filth. And this we may do, by finding it some sweeter, more cleanly and befitting work. It is certain, that the imagination hath a power, if it be put forth (but that requires an other power) to raise it selfe as swiftly, and as quick (which is the excellency of it) to heaven, to the high and great things there, as it will descend to hell, though it be a naturall descent, to those black things there: And it is certain too, that hopes on high, will lead to thoughts on high; The noblenesse of the soule, and thoughts thereof, and of great things prepared for it, will remember our imaginative sacultie of noble work, of high and weigh∣tie considerations.

If our affections be indeared to any sensuall delight, they will drown our fancies therein: and on the other side, our fancies, quicke and nimble though they be, yet will they move heavily, and die in their excessive motion to the things below, if the soule be taken up with the Love of the best things. And this leads me to the last thing, which is a more speciall and soveraign vertue, to help and fortifie our soule against her sensuall appetites; I meane such helps which reason can suggest. I know if the Eye of the Lord awe us; * 1.112 if destruction from God be a terrour unto us; if the spirit of holinesse comes into the heart, then the work is done.

2. In the last place then, because our imagination hurt∣eth, and betrayeth our succours within, by false represen∣tations, and by preventing reason, usurping a censure of things before our judgements try them; whereas, the office of imagination is, to minister matter to our understanding to work upon, not to lead it, much lesse to mis-lead it; sith, I say, our case is so, and so depraved our facultie is; we must take great heed, and give all diligence,

That, (as one ex∣cellently adviseth) we suffer not things to passe suddenly from the imagination to our will, and affection;

we must aske advise first of our judgement (That is the light, and eye of the inward man, and we must pray for the inward anoynting) whose office it is to weigh things in the bal∣lance

and so to discerne. This judgement doth acquaint the minde to ballance reasons on both sides, and to turne backe the first offers, and conceits of the minde, and to accept of nothing but first examined and tryed.

There is a sicknesse of fancy, and there is no way to cure it, but by advising with judgement. We shall (as Saul in another case) account the wayes of sinne and death, even the shedding our own souls bloud, in the pursuit of our own appetites, and the libertie to satisfie the same; All this we shall account a compassion r 1.113, if judgement do not come be∣twixt our imaginations, and will. The tumults, and di∣stempers of the soul, though they rage in silent darknesse, would be in a great measure quieted, if summon'd before strength of judgement and reason.

Therefore when any desireable object, presents it selfe to our imagination, and solicites for admittance, we must not open be∣fore reason and judgement have done their office: We must take off our selves, upon what ground we entertain such a conceit; * 1.114 whether we shall have the same judgement, after we have yeelded to it as now we have? and whether we will have the same judge∣ment of it in sicknesse, and death, and at the day of reckoning, as we have for the present? That which is of it selfe evill, is al∣wayes so, at one time as well as another: if the time will come, when we shall think those things to be vain, which now we are so eagerly set upon, as if there were some great good in them; why should we not thinke so of them now, when as the reforming of our judgement may do us good, rather then to be lead on with a pleasing errour untill that time, wherein the sight of our errours will fill our hearts with horrors and shame, without hope of ever changing our condition.

Think we hereon, before we have swallowed the bait. It is of speciall use to awaken the soule, and to stirre up reason, cast asleepe by over-powring lusts, and Satans charmes; of great use it is to scatter the clouds, through which things seeme otherwise then they are, that so we may discerne and judge of things, according to their true and constant nature.

Is it a known and noted story; That a great Command∣er being ready to perish with thirst, delivered up himself and his command into his enemies hands for a cup of drink; who, so soon as he had quenched his thirst, had these words, For how short a satisfaction, have I forfeited all my former con∣tentments! The morall of it is as well known; It seems to imply thus much; That he did (as we all are ready to do in desireable things) suffer the thing he desired, to passe too soon from the imagination, to affection; and he made choice before his Iudgement had done its office; and there∣by lost the command of himself. But indeed, though there is use in it, yet in this case, it doth not presse home, nor is it full to the purpose; for, if we should suppose Kingdomes in one scale, and a dish of water in an other, we know which would weigh down so low, that it would be great folly to make the comparison.

But now again, if we shall but consider, how dependent a creature man is, (which doth engage his service to his God) and to how weak supports his life is beholding, and that he is, in his best estate, but vanitie, and that his Crown cannot help or ease the head-ach, nor can all the pomp and glory of a kingdome refresh his fainting spirit, which yet (as the case may be) a dish of water may do: In this case I cannot tell whether a dish of water, though it be dearly bought, may yet be well purchased with a kingdome.

Satan might speak true, All that a man hath will he give for his life a 1.115. And had there bin no more but an earthly & tempo∣rary blessing lapt up in Esau's birthright, Esau had reason'd well. I am at the point to die, and what profit shall this birthright do to me b 1.116. But the extreamitie was not so (which is very ob∣servable) he was short spirited, all for the present. The eager∣nesse of his spirit, and his slighting the blessing (he despised his c 1.117 birthright.) presented it so: And besides, there was an heavenly blessing wrapt up in the earthly. And therefore this example o•• Esau comes home, and presseth to the quick; That we follow peace with all men, and holinesse, without which no man shall see the Lord * 1.118; looking diligently, lest any root of bit∣ternesse

springing up, trouble us, lest there be any fornicatour or prophane person, as Esau, who for one morsell of meat sold his birth-right. This presseth home; and therefore from this ex∣ample, we must, before that things passe from our imagina∣tion to affection; now that pleasure solicits for admit∣tance, we must thus reason; we do, in hearkening unto it, adventure more then a temporall contentment, though what can countervaile that damage? In yeelding here and giving admittance, we may bring in a Worme, which will never die: If then judgement do its office, it will reason thus;

Here are a few bitter sweet pleasures, and here is an inch of time, in this vale of teares to take them in; I know not how soon my day may set, perhaps I may suddenly sink down as others have done, even in an eager pursuit after a shadow (my present satisfaction) and so, at once, die twice; but sooner or later, long it cannot be, (there is not much space in an inch or span of time) long it can∣not be, before I go hence, and shall be seen no more; And then, when I go hence, I enter into eternitie (the thought whereof swallowes us up, as a drop in the ocean) where I shall meet with everlasting burnings, a perishing for ever; or with pleasures at Gods right hand for evermore. Shall I then (so judgement reasoneth) preferre a short satisfacti∣on (which will leave in the soul a very sad farewell) be∣fore an ever springing fountain of glory, and everlasting blisse? A few bitter-sweet pleasures, and these lasting but a span or inch of time, at the longest, before unmixt and unmeasurable joyes through all eternitie in those glorious mansions above? So our judgement debating, thus con∣cludeth.

What then is this sading, perishing, and at length tormenting contentment unto me? It is but like a flash of lightning before everlasting fire. Carnall joy is like the crackling of thorns, soon out like a lightsome flash, but spirituall joy is like the light of the Sun; what then is this poore, short, and at length tormenting pleasure unto me? When d 1.119 Lust hath conceived, it brings forth sinne; and sinne, when it is finished, brings forth

death. The world passeth away, and the lusts thereof, but he that doth Gods will abideth for ever e 1.120.

Thus farre in the discovery of this sinne also; The spring of it we know; The issues therefrom are as discerneable; how to stop it at the spring head, commands our care and diligence; if we be wanting at this point, our heart will wander after our eyes, and then we shall be carried like a ship in a tempest without a pilot, or like a colt that hath slipt his bridle: All will be out of frame within, and then no∣thing can be in order without. There will be a winking with the eyes, and a speaking with the feet, and a teaching with the fingers: for, wickednesse is in the heart, and the mouth will be an open sepulchre, much corrupt communication will pro∣ceed from thence; But to them, who maintain their watch, all will work contrary: They will be framed to an orderly and sweet comportment; They shall have command over themselves, and their desires shall be made subject to an higher Law of reason and true judgement; They shall not rule but be ruled and commanded.

The summe of what hath been said may be thus gathered, and put together; Pleasure is a great Enchantresse; at the first encounter, she charmes our senses, therefore we must be the more prepar'd against her; first, we must avoid all occasions; they are the becks of pleasure, and panders for lusts; especiaby we must avoid idlenesse; it is pleasures pil∣low, the houre of temptation, the devils tide time. An unem∣ployed life is a burden to it self, and vexation; It is like the Dead sea, or a raging sea, raging rather. We must make a covenant with our eyes, they are also caterers for lusts; and watch our fancy, finding it work suitable to so noble a faculty. We must remember, That the Father of Spirits hath communion with our spirits, if after Him kept pure and holy, like a room perfumed and prepared for such an enter∣tainment. But if unclean, then like that house, which was empty, swept, f 1.121 and garnished for that spirit, who is most un∣clean, though he commit no corporall uncleannesse. And this our uncleannes, which so debaseth man that noble Crea∣ture,

happeneth by the sicknesse of the fancy; The way to cure it, is to go to our judgement for counsell before we suf∣fer our thoughts to passe from the imagination to the affe∣ction; This is the summe.

I adde; we all hunt after pleasure, and strive after peace, we would finde rest to our souls, and satisfaction therein; This is naturall to us, though nature can never hit on the right way, that leads thereunto. If we follow the bent and bias of nature, we shall seek the living among the dead. But now tread we the paths of holinesse, of righteousnesse,

they are the wayes of pleasantnesse, all those paths peace g 1.122.

Cer∣tainly were the beauty of holinesse discovered unto us in any measure,

our affections would be strong towards it, we should mount up with wings of Eagles, ^h we should * 1.123 run after it, and not be weary, we should walk and not faint.

The straitnesse and wearinesse we finde in these wayes is caused through our indisposition, and unto ward∣nesse to those wayes, through our want of giving all dili∣gence. * 1.124 It is the conclusion of all that are truely wise, That those great and insuperable difficulties that we usually pretend to meet with in the way that leads unto vertue, and godlinesse, are rather vain pretences, want of heart, sloth, and lithernesse (as S^t. Chrysostome in many places, specially in his i 1.125 19. Hom. to the people of Antioch) that is, meere want of courage and re∣solution, then difficulties really hard and insuperable. We see saith he, what your wonder-workers can do, what strange feats: They will run upon the ground like a wheel circularly; They will run up and down a rope with as much steadinesse as another in * 1.126 plain ground. They will cast up swords like Tennis-balls and catch them again with the like ease; yet stranger things he tells of, and all attained unto by diligence and custome, provoked by a little gain.

What then, saith the same Father, can we think the way or practise of vertue and holinesse more difficult? and the end of that way to have lesse gain, and peace? overcome we the stubbornnesse of our Will, gain that; winde up our selves to a resolution (ⁱ we cannot by our own strength)

choose we the wayes of holinesse; give we all diligence to [Chap. 4] [§. 3] walk in those paths, then we are assured, custome will make our paths easie, and pleasant, and at the end we shall have peace.

The conclusion then is, Awake thy soul, give all dili∣gence, and with the same diligence keep thy heart, for out of it are the issues of life. Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy wayes be established k 1.127.

§. 3. Profit.

3. The other great Enchantresse of Mankinde (so I finde them coupled in the forementioned place l 1.128) is profit. A restlesse desire of getting still more, when, though all the world were gotten, it could never satisfie, nor make a man say It is enough; It jades a man, and tires his spirits out in an eager pursuit of that, wherewith he can no more fill him∣self, then a coffer with knowledge, and a bag with grace m 1.129. And yet he layeth out his pretious stock of time and parts in his eager pursuit this way; which is, as if a man should fur∣nish forth a chamber in a Through-fare, where he is to stay but a night, and neglect to provide himself of a Mansion in the citie, where he is for ever to dwell.

This is our folly, the chain of darknesse over our heart; That spirit of infirmity with which we are bowed down, so as we will weary our selves in the wayes of vanitie, though we finde our selves hungry and faint, as the beast, under their idols, and as the Smith working them with the strength of his arm; or if we think our selves filled, it is as with the East-winde, or ashes instead of bread; when we awake (for now the deceitfulnesse of riches hath closed the eye) we shall be hungry. And it is not possible to be other∣wise, for the heart turned from the Creatour to the Creature must needs be empty, there being a vanitie upon it; And being removed from the onely and eternall Good, it must needs be like the needle, shaken off from the pole-starre, in an unquiet trembling condition; Like a meteor still in agita∣tion, and doubtfull suspense n 1.130. The way then to fill the heart,

and to quiet it, is, to point it heaven-ward, where is Rest and Satisfaction.

And this consideration may help to cure us of this spirit of infirmity, which clings us together that we cannot look up, to wit, that God hath summed up all our happinesse in Himself, as the drops in the Ocean; All our streams of com∣fort come from that Sea, and must return again thither; If we have Him, we have all, if we want Him, we have no∣thing. Here our comforts lie strangling and divided, some in this thing, and some in that; we go to the coffer for some, and to the table for other some, and yet we are not satisfied; but in Christ these comforts are united, if we have Him, we have all; But God we cannot have, nor is it possible to feel how sweet he is, while we feel a sweetnesse and satis∣faction in the Creature, and are feasting thereon. It was a good answer, and of great and high use, which one made, being asked where he found God, There I found God, (said he) where I left the Creature. This is all I intend here, whereby to fortifie us against the deceitfulnesse of riches, which o 1.131 weary, but satisfie not. I do not take this to be so proper to my scope, and in some things, which would fall in here, I have presented my self else where in the preface to the first part.

Hitherto of such inordinate desires, which are not pro∣perly passions, but proceeding from our opinion and fanta∣sie, our judgement and reason being put out of office, and exposing us to the full sway and power of our passions; whereby it doth appeare, That we are not in greater dan∣ger in the hands of any, then of our selves; And therefore great cause to pray; Deliver us from evil, That is, our p 1.132 selves from our selves.

I come now to our master-passion; The subduing of it, is like the taking in of an Arch-rebell; It is the leader and ma∣ster of misrule, then which nothing doth sonner and so im∣mediately deforme Gods image, and sometimes deface it ut∣terly. This is,

§ 4. Anger.

[Chap. 4] [§. 4] A very strong motion from very weak reason. It fills our house with smoake q 1.133 (well compar'd thereunto) that we can see to do nothing in it; nay more, It deals with us, as if one should cast the master out of his dwelling, and then set fire on his house: or, as if an intemperate scold, (

it is M^r Bol∣tons comparison r 1.134

) should justle a reverend Iudge out of his place, and there to take on in her talkative and scurrill manner. Iust so will this absurd passion, usurp and domi∣neere over judgement, not giving reason leave to interpose a word; whereby it comes to passe, that the man loseth the rule of his own spirit, and so becomes like a Citie without walls s 1.135; or like a ship without stern and pilot, exposed to windes and tempests in the midst of a furious sea. This man must needs be at a losse, and make shipwrack of his wise∣dome and discretion and all, so as his discreet friend can∣not recover him again till he hath more command of him∣self, for if one should repaire him and deliver him to day, he will need the same help to morrow, for he will suffer wrack again by the storm of his passion; If thou deliver him, yet thou must do it again t 1.136. So we have heard how blustering a passion this is; and what raiseth the winde, viz. that we are disposed unto it, by weaknesse of spirit, for the weaker any one is by yeares, or by sicknesse, the more subject unto it, as children, old persons, or u 1.137 sick (so universall experience hath concluded) or by overtendernesse or nicenesse of minde. Therefore the wanton delicate persons are very testy x 1.138, very petty matters will trouble them, a spot on their garment; a bird, a dog, a glasse. It puts me in minde of a delicate person, who, being Master of a feast, condemned his servant to be eat up of the Lampryes for breaking a Chrystall glasse; where∣upon the poore boy falls down at the Emperours feet, who was entertain'd at the feast, requesting onely this favour, that though he knew he must die, yet he would not suffer his Master to make him meat to fishes, which are mans meat, whereto the Emporour yeelded, causing all the glasses in the house to be broken before his face, and then thrown

into the fish pond where the boy should have been put; I mention this to assure us; That none are so imperious, nor more abuse their power, then your delicate persons; one haire lying out of order will more disquiet them, then a di∣sturbance in a Commonwealth.

There is another fruit of this weaknesse, and that is an un∣govern'd tongue. A great make-bate, disturbing our own peace, and the peace of others. It foments and stirres up an∣ger, and provokes more wrath: It makes the spirits keen and eager, so as words, cut like a razour, being whetted, as the Bore its tooth, in its own foame. There is a little spark of fire before us, It is at the y 1.139 pleasure of our mouth to make more sparks, and to kindle it to a flame; and it is at the pleasure of the mouth, to cast water upon it, to spit it, or to tread it out. So in point of debate and contention, the fruits of Anger; It is at the service of the tongue, to kindle the heat and the fire yet more and more, and it is in the tongue to quench and put it forth. He that hath power over his tongue, shall strike at the very root of this passion, and go neare to cut the (z 1.140 fibras) the very small sprigges or haires thereof; The wisest of Philosophers (if Aristotle was he) tells us; That Anger serveth as a weapon to vertue; It may well be, but then this weapon must be in a wise mans hand, who can command himself and his anger, for such a man can be angry and sinne not: otherwise anger is a weapon of a strange nature; for, we do manage other weapons, and this doth manage us; our hand guideth not it, but it guideth our hand; it possesseth us, not we it. So we have heard what a weapon this is, or ra∣ther, how domineering a passion. We have heard also, what exalteth this folly; It is weaknesse; The remedies are an∣swerable, whereby to get strength, and fortifie our selves against it.

That person is seldome overcome of anger, who can take some command over himself in such things, which yet, we may think, do little concern that passion; but yet they do very much. For the reason why a man hath so little rule over himself in a passion, is, because he had so little comd¦mand

over himself, when he was out of his passion: or ra∣ther, for so shall I speak more properly, because he carryes himself, as one in a passion alwayes.

I have often thought on those words of Saint Paul; a 1.141 All things are lawfull for me, but all things are not expedient; All things are lawfull, but I will not he brought under the power of any. What is this to the subduing of this passion of anger? very much; for he that can check-himselfe in things law∣full, will not easily exceed in things unlawfull. I have known some, who would not reach their hands to a dish, or cup so soone as they might; they would abridge themselves, and take of from that eagernesse of spirit, we are subject un∣to: So they could keep themselves from coming under the power of the creature, and more able, by using this fitting command over themselves, to carry themselves calmely, and temperately, in the puzell of businesse, and tempest of humane life. He that carryes himselfe as in a passion alwayes, we must looke to see him sometimes in a phrensie, when it would become him, to have most command over himselfe. He that cannot temper himselfe in lawfull things, will run ryot in unlawfull.

This is a point of speciall consideration; it takes of from nicenesse and weakenesse of spirit, which sharpneth very much the edge of anger b 1.142. I have read of one, who would put a letter up into his pocket, not breaking up the seale; which yet he knew full of news, but could not answer till the next morning; And such a letter, saith he, I know some would have broken open with their teeth, if with their fin∣gers they could not have done it so suddenly. He doth in∣stance in other points of abstinence, and perswades to them, and concludes thus.

That man cannot easily abstaine from things forbidden him, who takes his full libertie in all things, which are not forbidden him.

This requires our consideration, for there is more in it, then ordinarily is conceived. But suppose a man now in his passion, what shall we say to him then? nothing, it putteth him out of his precepts quite; we must stay till he be so∣ber,

unlesse we can binde his hands. No sound counsell can come in, while fury is going-out.

As in a tempest (saith Chrysostome) while the Sea rageth, and there is tumult and trouble; words are vaine. If we will waite their season, we must stay till there be a calme c 1.143:

So here, we must stay till the storme of anger be over. This puts me in minde of a very pretty observation from Phi. Melanch. which is this.

His little daughter was sent on an errand, and staid be∣yond her appointed houre, which moved the mother not a little; so much, that she said, she would pay her daughter, that she would. The father heard all, but as his manner was, said nothing; went to the doore, and there he sate, expe∣cting his daughters return. Presently after, home comes the gyrle. Now daughter, said the father; you are too blame, you have stayed too long, and your mother will be very short with you, for so I heard her threaten. I pree thee, childe, what wilt thou say to thy good mother now, for she is an∣gry? The childe answered simply d 1.144 and like a childe; nothing for sooth.

This answer pleased the father very well, and he made very good use of it, for this was his maner: When he ob∣served men marching in the rage and roare of their passi∣on, and upon the spur, then he stood stock still; When he heard them casting-up their words, from a very corrupt sto∣mack, and calling-out, as if their tongues were their own, they might use them as they listed, then was he all that while mute as a fish; making good use of his good childes answer, nothing for sooth. And this nothing, effected something; for by this patience in That excellent servant of the Lord, he brake the violence of his adversaries impati∣encie; so saith Camera: who writ Mela. Life e 1.145. It teach∣eth us how to carry our selves towards men, carried in a passion, To say nothing. But now for a man in a passion, if he be teachable, this, which follows, may instruct him.

It is a hard matter to stop our course down an hill, and it is as foolish to course there, so is it a point of difficultie to

refrain the minde in a precipice f 1.146; But yet some have found it possible; I say then, if a man could refrain himself, and give unto his minde (as is used in horsmanship, and wherein the old Britaines, saith Caesar g 1.147, did by experience and cu∣stome much excell) the shortest stop or turn; As thus; if he could refraine his hand, or his word, when it is going out, and behold himself in a glasse, before he strike or speake: And then after the heat were abated, which would quickly be, reflect, as before upon his posture, so now upon that he was about to do, I say, if he would do but thus, it would be a great preservative to prevent the next fit of his feaver.

We read of one h 1.148, who, being very angry, and having his arme lifted up to punish his offending servant (over whom masters at that time too lawlesly abused their power) be∣thought himself very seasonably, and of what he was do∣ing, so stayd the blow, but kept his posture; then beheld himselfe in a glasse, to see how like a foole he stood;

But he discern'd more then so, that he stood, not like George on Horsebacke, though that is menacing, but more like a mad∣man i 1.149,

with his hands up, mouth drawn aside and foa∣ming, eyes sparkling, countenance pale and much de∣formed; at the sight whereof, he dismissed his servant, and corrected himselfe,

and so was better advised for after∣wards. I dare say, it would calme the hastiest man living, if he would look himself in a glasse, when he is angry and in a rage (but it is a point of patience) that then he might behold his impotent, and unmanly behaviour, how it dis∣figures, distorts and deformes him; It would help also, if, refraining his minde in such a distemper, he would reflect upon that he was (in that transportation of minde) about to do or might have done; if he can reflect upon it, he will see clearely, That it was much better for him, because he tooke leisure of more consideration.

Of all things, which admit delay, there is nothing, that receives more advantage by it, then our passion, nor hazard, then our repentance. It is certain, what repentance gaineth by admitting no delay, anger loseth, our peace and quiet; yet

deale we here cleane contrary; for where we should not consider, (not whether we should repent or no) there we do; and where we should consider, there we do not. There is nothing, that can work us more sorrow, then this; nor more advantage, then if a man would suspend his actions a little, and arrest nature in her passionate march. A little time would do it, and blunt the edge of anger, as the saying over the alphabet, saith one, the Lords Prayer saith another i 1.150. But if we gaine not some leisure and time here, for our better proceeding, we shall for our repentance k 1.151. Phocion advised well to hinder the Athenians from a present resolution up∣on the hearing of Alexanders death; News came that A∣lexander was dead; And the Athenians would, the same night, meet in Counsell, and determine things: Forbeare till next morn∣ing said he; if Alexander be dead to day, he will be dead to mor∣row. Be not so hasty, this businesse will admit some houres delay, and we shall proceed much more warrantably.

It is very applicable here; we must not proceed hastily in any thing, for that is to proceed in a passion; if it be a fault, we are about to punish, it will be a fault anon, and teo mor∣row, and we shall be better able to discerne it, and to helpe it. We may do nothing while we are angry; for then we will thinke we may doe any thing. He must not loose the power of himself, who hath an other under his. He had need have all his wits about him, that comes to drive out folly; and to understand himselfe very well, that would direct another. It is the wife mans lesson; The discretion of a man de∣ferreth Anger. It is a point of wisedome to subdue betimes, * 1.152 the first beginnings of unruly passions, which else, like an ill nurtur'd childe, will grow head-strong (here we should meet with the tongue again:) And this is by giving a check and stop to our selves, so giving time for reason to enter∣pose, and to aske this question only, What do I? For want hereof, we observe men dealing unreasonably with sense∣lesse things, falling foule upon them, misusing the poore beast also, that doth better service in his kinde, and sheweth more obedience then man doth. But very Imperious and do∣mineering

over children and servants; for our spirits (as was said) stir as intemperately, and raise as great stormes in our lit∣tle ponds, as great persons do in their great seas. l 1.153.

I passe by them, who are so furious upon the Oxe, the Horse, and the Asse, the poore Sheep also, all which do after their kinde, but he that misuseth them, doth against nature. I have nothing to say to such, their folly may correct them. But when a parent is correcting his childe in a passion, this may check him, if he take so much time as to consider; That he is a childe, and his own, so is its fault also; This will stop his eagernesse: but of this in the first part. So also when I am angry with my servant, this may check me; That though I may be bold with him, or her, being my servant, yet not so bold as to shame my selfe, or hurt them. Did not he that made them make me? Have we not both the same masters over us on earth? and would we not be used kindely, and gently by them? And have we not all one Master in heaven? * 1.154 and would we not all finde mercy there? Yea, but he is thus and thus, and doth so and so, and so often he hath pro∣voked me? I must check my selfe now with this, and it will surely calme and coole my spirit; how m 1.155 much, and how long, God hath borne, and forborn me; And can I be impatient now? The long suffering of the Lord is salvation: It was sal∣vation to Saul, waiting till he became a Paul; so was it to Peter, waiting till he went out; To us, else we had been, before this, consumed: Marke this, and enlarge thy medi∣tation upon it; I, it will be a meanes to frame upon thee that ornament of a meeke and quiet spirit, which, in the sight of God, is of great price: for if I can say to my selfe but thus much; how long suffering hath the Lord been to me ward? I cannot be short, and eager spirited toward my brother. I cannot say more, which is more pressing and availeable to subdue my passionate spirit, and to gaine that constant and comforta∣ble temper, which resembles the highest region of the ayre, where there is still a perpetuall serenitie, and peace. Lastly, are they the wrongs, and unworthy usage from others hands and tongues, that have put me out of the possession of

my selfe? or are they crosses in my estate, that trouble and disquiet me? Then thus I must check my selfe, By looking narrowly into my selfe, and up to an higher hand, as the children of wisdome have done; I must remember the ten thousand talents; There is nothing that can be thought of, of more force to win upon a passionate spirit, and to frame it to lowlinesse, lovelinesse, calmenesse, and unpassionate∣nesse (which is the cement of societie and sweet converse) nothing, I say, of such force as these considerations; First, of Gods all disposing, over-ruling hand, who is so good, that He would suffer no evill to be, were He not so power∣full, that out of the greatest evill, He can extract the great∣est good.

Secondly, The riches of His mercy, that forgave ten thou∣sand talents; And should I flye at the throat of my fellow servant for a few pence? Thoughts hereof will frame us to a setled reposed estate, and an unpassionate spirit. But the remedy of remedies, the most certain and excellent remedy, whereby to shoare-up, and underprop the soule against the shakings, and impetuous blustering of this weake but impo∣tent distemper, which bloweth hard, and boasteth great things; The best remedy I say, is, To addresse our spirits before the Lord; To look to Him, who rebuked the winds, and Seas, and they were still. We may say of this fiery ex∣halation, as is said of the tongue n 1.156 (a fire too, and angers first o 1.157 weapon) But this unruly evill can no man tame: we must then pray, and in our prayer p 1.158 pray, that is, we must pray earnestly, we must wrestle and weep in our prayer be∣fore the Lord; That He would hold in our spirits, calme and meeken the same. We are taught of God, to love one another, saith the Apostle, we are so indeed, saith the Fa∣ther; For no man can teach it, and if God teach not, we shall flye off and all to pieces, like an unserviceable piece of Ordnance, before we are discharged. We shall bite and de∣voure on another. Vpon every occasion, we shall flye out into sparkles of heat, like the sonnes of the coale as one speak∣eth, which if you blow, it will sparkle in your face, behold

then, how great a matter a little fire kindleth q 1.159. We may allude here to what we reade, spoken of the Leviathan r 1.160;

An angry-mans breath kindleth coales, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

But if God meekens the spirit, if He humbles the heart, all this fire will be quenched, or, if not so, yet so kept in this fire shall be, that no burning lamps, no sparks shall leap out; I meane, nothing shall be done or spo∣ken, which may kindle wrath: but much yeelding there will be, much forbearing in the spirit of meeknesse, as we learne by the example of Abraham; who yeelds unto the younger, rather then difference shall arise. And the true sonne of a gracious father will yeeld, not to Abimelech on∣ly, but to the Heardsmen of Gerar, though the place shall carry a memoriall of the contention there, and injury done * 1.161 to Iacob there, the taking from him that, which God and na∣ture makes common; yet rather then there shall be any contention, Isaac yeelds, and accepts of an apologie or de∣fence afterwards, though never a word thereof true. And this is meeknesse, and patience indeed mildly to yeeld, not to superiours only, against whom, perhaps, we cannot stirre and be safe; but to yeeld to inferiours, such we would have disdained (as Iob saith s 1.162) to have set with the dogs of our flocke. This is a point of a meeke spirit indeed. And this is a spirit of Gods own framing, even His, to whom these two things do of right belong; To subdue iniquitie, and par∣don sinne. Marke it;

The Lord, He it is, who subdueth every distemper of the soul, which vexeth there; and pardons all the iniquity t 1.163 there▪ from, casting it, as into the bottome of the Sea; therefore to Him we must seeke. I conclude with the wise mans les∣sons u 1.164. The heart of the wise teacheth his mouth, and addeth learning to his lips. Pleasant words are as an honey-combe, sweet to the soule, and health to the bones. He that is slow to anger is bet∣ter then the mightie; and he that ruleth his spirit, then he that taketh a citie.

I know, That, before I came off from this point, I should have spoken more concerning the tongue, and the govern∣ment

thereof. But the subject is so large, and so largely [Chap. 4] [§ 5] handled; That we cannot say a little of it.

It is, me thinks, observeable; That he, who wrote a booke thereof, was a whole yeare (so himselfe saith) be∣thinking * 1.165 himselfe, what to call his booke, which (if I re∣member) he was ten yeares in composing. At the length he intituled his booke Phaeton, and we know what is faigned of him, as we do know, what was the originall of that fi∣ction: But the Title fits very well, and the Spirit gives good warrant to it; For the tongue is a fire, a world of ini∣quitie x 1.166; it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature, and is set on fire of hell. Great cause to look unto it, & to guard it well (as nature teacheth us) with all our care.

But he that can master his passion, and this master passion, can master his tongue also, that is supposed: For the tongue (as we heard) is but angers first weapon; And if we can binde the strong-man, we can spoile him of his weapons, that's out of question, for it is first done. I will say but this then (for I have spoken to it before in the first part) It is the wisdome of a man to see himselfe speake; That is, well first to observe the way his tongue is travelling in, That he may be sure and certaine, that the way is safe. Remem∣bring still (what was said too) That a man hath falne more * 1.167 dangerously by his tongue, then he hath by his foot.

§ 5. Of Censure.

I would charm the tongue here, before I leave it; but so it is hard for man to do, nay impossible; yet I will lesson it in point of Censure, Which is a bold libertie the tongue takes, as if it had a a 1.168 patent for prating, or had received another edict, that all the world should be taxed. The lessons are these,

1. Take no evidence from heare-say; It is the greatest li∣ar in the world. Report will fully the whitest name upon earth, and when it hath done, and you would finde the au∣thour, you cannot, he walks as undiscerneable as if he had his head in the clouds b 1.169. Report nothing upon bare report, espe∣cially nothing touching any ones good-name, which, the purer it is, like a white ball, the more fullied with tossing.

2. Where thou wantest certaintie, judge charitably, the best; and leave that thou canst not know to the Searcher of hearts. Indeed sometimes a mans out-side, actions, words, gestures, do make an easie and plain Commentary upon the heart; we may expound the heart by them. There is a speak∣ing with the feet, and a teaching with the c 1.170 fingers: The or∣gan or instrument of speech is the tongue, What can the feet speak? What can the fingers teach? why, the feet can speak, and the fingers can teach, what is in the heart: Their commentary is so plain, that a man may reade, frowardnesse is there. But now when a mans actions, his meaning and in∣tent are of as doubtfull construction as some old Characters, worn out and decayed; Take we heed now, that we reade them not according to our sense, unlesse it be most agree∣able to charitie. It is a good rule; d 1.171 We must shew all the fa∣vour that may be; We must stretch out charities mantle as wide as we can, that is, as wide, as heaven is wide, saith e 1.172 Chrysostome, and we must note it. We are bound to give the fairest and most candid interpretations of actions and meaning as possible may be. It is M^r Perkins rule, and but the rule of charitie, Be as tender of a mans meaning as with his eye, so of his actions, as perhaps he did not so, as it is suggested; if he did it, then not with a minde to do me hurt; or, if with that purpose, then by some temptation, which might have carried my self too, and upon a worse evil. Still deale tenderly we should with our brothers Name, with his Conscience, with his meaning, as tender of all this we must be, as we are of our eye, or of a glasse of Chrystall.

3. Speak well of the dead, or nothing at all; It is for such to trouble them, that are at rest, who are of his generation, who did pursue his brother with the sword, and did cast off all pi∣tie, and his anger did tear perpetually, and kept his wrath for ever f 1.173. Mark well how sadly and confidently Job speakes touching the securitie of the dead; mark it, I can but point to it g 1.174. And learn we may something from the devil, when he feigned himself Samuel; That it is no point of Civilitie to disquiet the dead h 1.175.

4. No, nor to disquiet those that are absent, in conjuring up their names, for they are dead to us, and cannot speak for themselves. Stay a little till Mephibosheth i 1.176 can be heard to tell his own tale, he will prove himself as sound at the heart, as he is lame in his feet, and Ziba shall be counted as he is, a Devil.

5 If the name of thy neighbour be in question and thou canst relieve it by a word, and that word but the very truth; Take heed now, Let not that pretious name of thy neighbour faint and die under thy hearing for want of a word, thy speaking what thou knowest, and standest bound to speak by the bond of charitie. If thou shalt be faulty in this point of charitie, it is a privative censure.

I keep the chief lesson last, I take it from a rule in He∣rauldry, this it is,

6. All k 1.177 Animalls born in Armes or Ensignes must in blazoning, be interpreted in the best sense, according to their generous and noble qualities; if a fox be the charge of an Escutchen, we must conceive his qualitie represented to be wit and cunning, not pilfering and stealing &c.

I may finde bad qualities in the King of beasts; I must in blazoning take the most noble; Then much more in bla∣zoning my brothers Name; I must finde-out his good qua∣lities. So the Apostle with Iob, l 1.178 we have heard of the patience of Iob; not a word of his impatience. And observeable it is, how David fills his mouth with Sauls m 1.179 vertues; But how if my brother have not one good qualitie? I must not think so; not, that any one is so buried under the rubbish of his own and Adams ruines, but some good may be found in him, if with the Chymist, we would set the fire of our charitie on work, some good might be extracted; for, as there is some rubbish in the best of men, so there is some ore too, something of God, some good in the very worst; doubt it not, while thou canst see a poore woman puddering in the dust-heap, and finding some good there. And let this teach us, how we deale with our brother, not worse then with a dust-heap (I hope) pick-out his good and let go the bad.

But if thou must fix upon the bad, as so the case may require, [Chap. 4] [§ 6] do it tenderly like a brother, as one knowing thy self, and thy common nature, in love, in meeknesse, in the spirit of meek∣nesse: so shalt thou honour thy brother, but thy self more. Chrysostome n 1.180 gives us a good note. The truest signe of a man honoured with reason, is to be gentle, meek, courteous, mer∣cifull, as one that would obtain mercie; for, consider we our selves, or others, we are vessells of earth all, which could not be cleansed with water, they must be broken o 1.181; or like bell∣mettle, once broken, never sound again till new-cast, and that will not be till the morning of our resurrection; There be faults in all, make the best of all. It is good for a man, nay it is his wisdome, to pudder much in his own dung (as a devout Spaniard p 1.182 phraseth it) To pry well into his faults, and frailties, and with great diligence there, for from thence (that bitter-root) springeth that excellent and sweet grace, humilitie, but to pudder in another mans dung, is Beetle-like, q 1.183 a creature, we know, which lies covered in dung, and findes sweetnesse there; but put it amongst sweets, and there it dies.

I will shut up this in the words of the Learned Knight, changing but a word, They who have sold the (bloud of o∣thers) good name of others, at a low rate, have but made the * 1.184 markets for their neighbours to buy of theirs at the same rate and price. But Chrysostomes words upon those of our Savi∣our, * 1.185 (Iudge not that ye be not judged) will serve better to stitch upon our lips; How darest thou set thy self in Gods Throne, by judging thy brother? If thou wilt be a judge, judge thy self, and thy own wayes, so mayest thou mendon; But if thou sittest and judgest thy brother, thou shalt but make thy own judgement the heavier.

§ 6. Affections.

So much to the master passion, and the subduing thereof; and to order the tongue too, that disordered member. Affe∣ctions are the next, which may be called passions also, when they come like sudden gusts, for then they are the stormes of the soul, and will overturn all if they be not suppressed, and

the heart steer'd aright, by the interposing of judgement and right reason. Our Affections set at libertie, are like a * 1.186 childe set loose, and left to himself, which will cause our shame and our sorrow both. To instance; our affection of feare, not ordered and pointed right, will make us like a Roe before the hunter, or like a leafe shaken with the winde: The Apostle speaks much in one word; where feare is, there is torment, &c. It slayeth without a sword; Thy b 1.187 slain men are not slain with the sword, nor dead in battell; How then a 1.188 were they slain? (for it is not proper to say, slain with fa∣mine) with c 1.189 feare; that surprised them before the battell, and did the part of an executioner before the sword came: Such an astonishing affection feare is if not fixt upon Him, whom onely we should feare. The like we may say of Love d 1.190, Ioy e 1.191, Sorrow; if not plac'd aright, but immoderately set upon the Creature, they will swallow us up, as a ship in the quicksands. In a word; The excesse of our affections do cause the greatnesse of our afflictions.

But contrary; when our affections are well ordered, they are the winde of the soul, carrying it so, as it is neither be∣calmed, that it moves not when it should; nor yet tossed, that it moves disorderly: They are the very wings of the soul; A prayer without them (so we may say of any other performance) is like a bird without wings; If I cared for no∣thing (said Melancton) I should pray for nothing; They are the springs of all our services to God; we are dry, cold and dead * 1.192 without them; They set the soule and heart on worke, and then we seeke the Lord. David had prepared much for the house of his God, and the reason was, which himself gives; Because I have set my affection to the house of my God. We are as a dead Sea, without our affections, and as a raging Sea, if they exceed the bounds; And exceed they will, if they are not held in order, by His voyce, who said to the Sea, Be still. f 1.193 g 1.194 h 1.195 i 1.196

They are, as it is said of the body, like a curious instruments, quickly out of tune, and then we, as quickly, have lost the mean, between too much and too little. They are just like moyst elements, as Aire and Water, which have no bounds of their own to contain them in, but those of the vessell, that keeps them: water is spilt and lost without something to hold it; so it is with our affections, if they be not bounded by the Spirit of wisdome and power. And if so, they will an∣swer all Gods dealing to His children; As He enlargeth, so they are enlarged; as He opens, so they open; if evills threaten, the more feare fixeth where it should, and then feareth no evill tidings h 1.197; The more tokens of displeasure, the more sorrow; yet ordered not without hope, not a sorrow swallowing up the heart in despaire, but a godly sorrow putting on to obedience. These well ordered affections put the soul into a sutable plyablenesse, that they answer the Lord in all His calls; to joy when He calls for it; to mourn, when He calls for that.

But this sweet harmony and temper in the affections is never, but when the Lord sets them in tune, and keeps them so; when His spirit watcheth over ours (which should be our prayer) for then, look how many affections, so many graces. Love is turned to a love of God; Ioy to a delight in the best things; feare, to a feare of offending Him more then any creature; sorrow to a sorrow for sinne. And this is the main and chiefe help to bound and order our affections, even to look up to the Lord, that as He hath planted them in the soul, He would order them so there, that they may tend to Him and for Him. Other rules and considerations there are, which may help some thing to calme our affections as fol∣loweth.

1. Let this be a standing rule; Nothing deserves our sor∣row but sinne, and the losse of Gods favour by sinne. It is season∣able at no time (I speake of some exceeding that way, for man must not have (if it might be) an Apathie, he must not be without naturall affection, like a stock moved at nothing; no, This is the commendation of a true Christian, That he

hath strong affections, but through God, he is mightie to [Chap. 4] [§ 7] command them) It is (I was saying) seasonable at no time, but at our prayers and with our instructions, saith i 1.198 Chryso∣stome. It is pitie, that such a sweet and fruitfull affection, should, like water, run-out to waste, should be spilt upon that, which cannot profit.

2. Nothing commands our feare but God: and if we keep to Him, He will be our Sanctuary; if it be removed from Him, we shall feare every thing.

3. We must use this world, but as if we did not use it; use it, but enjoy God. In the one is changeablenesse and vexation, in God is no variousnesse, nor shadow of chang∣ing. The world and things of it, are but the cisternes of comfort; they quickly emptie and dry up; God is an ever springing fountain.

4. Many things will command our love, and must have it, but we must hold it under command, and to its rule; In God, and for God: we must equall nothing unto Him, much lesse account of any thing above Him. He will have no cor∣rivall: that which we equall with Him, will prove our snare; that which we honour above Him, will be our shame and sorrow.

5. There are some times, when there will be some flushes of joy, some exceeding that way; as it is hard in any passion of the minde to keep just measure: But there is never more need of watchfulnesse then at such times. It was a fit season for the Father to be at his Sacrifice, when his Children were at the Feast. I have observed times of feasting and merri∣ment strangely crossed; to call back the heart, which would soone forget, if not loose it selfe: and to teach man to feare at all times.

In such cases as these, such thoughts as these may help to allay the over sweetnesse of our contents, as thus to think; Now I could sing for joy (for we give no time for Calvish mirth) others there are, who at this very time do sigh for heavinesse of spirit; and groane under heavy pressures k 1.199. As a member of the body, my passion of joy must be moderated

with my compassion l 1.200. I will speake in Hirons words, they are to this purpose.

There is a wedding in that house to day, and there they are merry;

with them I should rejoyce: In the other house there is a funerall, a beloved yoke-fellow, or a deare childe is carrying forth to buriall, there are sad hearts we are sure, I should weep with them: for this is to be like minded, to be companions with others, as members of the same body. I must think again; I know not how soone their case may be mine: Mirth and sorrow have their turns, and I know not how soone, they may exchange with me. As I shall let my heart loose in the one, the lesse command I shall have over it in the other: As my sensuall content∣ment shall dilate and expand my heart; so will sorrow compresse and shrink it up: If my heart be as light as a fea∣ther in the one, it may be as heavy as a stone in the other; it was Nabals m 1.201 case. Let me ever finde out something even in the midst of my mirth, Christian-like to leaven it; so I may more likely finde something in my sorrow to sweeten that also.

The maine and principall lesson is, That we sawce our earthly joyes with godly sorrow; so should all our worldly sorrow be mixed with spirituall joy. We must not let earth∣ly contentments take up all the roome in the heart; for then sorrow, when it comes, will look for the like freedome, commanding there, and stopping up the least cranny for comfort to enter in at.

So much to temper and moderate our mindes in the sud∣den flushes of joy.

There is a more constant running out of our affections, in a more constant tenour of earthly things, which some at sometimes may finde; if so, and our affections are enlarged beyond their bounds, such like sad and sober thoughts as these may call them in, if they take place.

Is my estate prosperous? And do I over greedily seeke, or highly esteeme, or intemperately joy in the comforts, which prosperitie affords? Let me think now, that the wicked have these things too, and more abundantly, and

Gods dearest children often want them. And what are they, that my heart would close withall? Nothing, for no∣thing they avayle in the day of wrath n 1.202; when we most need them, they stand farre from our help.

Are they pleasures my heart would relish? let me consi∣der, they are but for a moment, but the torment of sinne is everlasting o 1.203. Have I contentments on every side? peace round about? all things as my heart can wish? Then I must stirre up, and quicken my self the more; standing waters ga∣ther mud and dirt; wines not racked gather Lees. I must suspect my way, that it is not right; for in the world ye shall have afflictions; we have our Masters word for it, and that is as much as the earth and heavens have for their continu∣ance. Can I expect two heavens? all contentments here, and pleasures for ever more hereafter? can I expect to tri∣umph in heaven, and yet not to performe any worthy ser∣vice in the Lords Battell upon earth against His and our enemies? Can I expect a weight p 1.204 of glory, when I go hence, and no weight from the crosse here? Can I think it reason∣able, that the Captain should beare all the brunt, and endure all the hardnesse, and the Common souldier endure no∣thing? These considerations and such like, may give some sharp taste to allay the lushiousnesse of our contentments, that we may not over-joy our comforts.

§ Discontent. 7.

We are as prone sometimes to overlook our blessings al∣so, and overgrieve our crosses; when our minde is oversha∣dowed with discontent, that great disturber of our peace and quiet.

It is an unreasonable passion, what else to call it in pro∣prietie of speech, I know not, but this know; it makes a man complain, he knows not for what; and to quarrell with his estate, be it never so good: Like a thorn in the foot, or an ar∣row in the side, it makes all places and conditions uncom∣fortable. It puts a man out of conceit with his own estate (which a wise man thinks the best) and into a good opinion of an others condition be it farre meaner; for what matters

it, what my condition be, if to me it seems bad q 1.205; if so, I must needs walk most unquietly with my self, and most un∣thankfully towards God.

Those sonnes of Eliab enjoyed no small priviledge, but yet that seemed nothing unto them: Aegypt, where they served in clay, and brick, was now esteemed farre beyond all, when their present discontent, like dust cast into the eye, had taken from them the sight of all their good things r 1.206. They are a sad example to us, that we murmure not as they did; and it tels us also, how unreasonably a discontented minde will reason.

It was an answer worthy our marking, which a servant gave touching his master; he was asked, What he left his Ma∣ster doing? I left him said he, seeking out cause of complaint, ma∣ny blessings standing round about him the while s 1.207; it is the case and manner of many, and it is (saith the same Authour) as if a man should seale up his hogshead of good liquour, and drink that which is sowre, and hurtfull. Thus disquieting an humour discontent is; the remedies against it are,

First, that we suffer not our minde too much to fix upon our grievance, for this were like a foolish patient, to chew the pill; and then we shall so much taste the bitternesse of one crosse, that we shall disrelish the comfort of twenty blessings.

2. It is good to look to those below us: It is certain, no mans estate is so happy, but, if his discretion be not so much the more, he may finde something in it, which would sowre all: nor is any mans condition so low, but he may finde something which will sweeten the meanesse of it; Thus then I may reason,

I live not so high as others do; nor am I acquainted with others temptations: Great gates give room enough for great cares to enter in at; I am sure great temptations. I am not so rich as others; nor am I disquieted with their cares and feares: As the rich have advantage of the poore in possessing, so have the poore advantage over the rich in parting. I carry not that pomp and state, which he or she do,

who ride in their coach; nor perhaps am I in so mean a con∣dition, as he that drives it. I have not so much ease, as he or she who sit in their Sedan, (and yet that you cannot tell, for some bodies sit there, that have little ease) but this I am sure of, that in respect of bodily toyl, I go at more ease, then they who sweat at so unbecoming and beast-like a bur∣den t 1.208.

I have not anothers velvet, nor their fare, nor their ease; nor have I their stone, or their gout; I must set one thing against another u 1.209, it may much quiet me. And thus farre the Heathen have carried us by their false light, for to this purpose they have reasoned the case, and so satisfied themselves in their present condition; we shall reason more like Christians, if we speak as we are directed by him, who was taught in the School of Christ.

In all our grievances let us look to something that may comfort us, as well as discourage x 1.210: look to that we enjoy, as well as that we want. As in prosperitie God mingles some crosse to diet us; so in all crosses there is something to comfort us. As there is a vanitie lies hid in the best worldly good; so there is a blessing lies hid in the worst worldly evil. God usually makes up that with some ad∣vantage in another kinde, wherein we are inferiour to others. Others are in greater place, so they are in greater danger; others be richer, so their cares and snares be great∣er: The poore in the world may be richer in faith then they. The soul can better digest and master a low estate then a prosperous, and being under some abasement, it is in a lesse distance from God. Others are not so afflicted as we, then they have lesse experience of Gods gracious power then we. Others may have more healthy bodies, but souls lesse weaned from the world. We would not change con∣ditions with them, so as to have their spirits with their condition. For one half of our lives, the meanest are as hap∣py, and free from cares, as the greatest Monarch: that is, whilest both sleep, & usually the sleep of the one is sweet∣er then the sleep of the other. What is all that the earth

can afford us, if God deny health? and this a man in the meanest condition may enjoy. That wherein one man differs from another, is but title, and but for a little time; death levelleth all. There is scarce any man, but the good he receives from God, is more then the ill he feels, if our unthankfull hearts would suffer us to think so. Is not our health more then our sicknesse? do we not enjoy more then we want? I mean of the things that are necessary; are not our good dayes more then our evill? And yet (so unkindly we deale with God) one crosse is more taken to heart, then an hundred blessings. We should consider, God doth not owe us any thing. Those that deserve no∣thing should be content with any thing. We should look to others as good as our selves (as well as to our selves) and then we shall see it is not our own case onely; who are we that we should look for an exempt condition from those troubles, which Gods dearest children are addicted unto?

The chief help then of our discontent is, to look up to a supreame hand; The Heathen also by their glimmering light, could discerne how vaine it was to strive against the absolute prerogative thereof. We must not quarrell with that condition, which God sees fit for us, for that were to blame His wisdome, who gives no account of His matters; and in so strugling we make our bands the stronger.

The humbled y and meekned spirit, that can resigne it self, submit and wait under Gods Almighty hand, shall be lifted up in Gods good time. In the mean time, having knowledge of Gods excellencies, and his own vilenesse; He looks upon mercies, and counts himself lesse then the least of them: He looks upon afflictions, and under the greatest can say right humbly, It is Gods mercie I am not consumed. Are his pressures many, he sees mercie in it, that they are not yet more: Sees he little light of comfort? he praiseth God he can see any at all: nay, discerneth he none at all? yet he stayeth himself upon his God and submits x 1.211.

Yea, but how if this person, now under the rod, is not [Object.]

perswaded that God is his Father, though he cannot but know, that He correcteth every childey: As many as I love, I chasten y 1.212.

If so, yet he doth know, that God is his Lord, and thence, an humble submission must follow. As Laban z 1.213 and Bethuel [Answ.] in▪ another case; This thing is proceeded of the Lord, we cannot therefore say either good or evill. So, whatsoever the affliction be, be it in body, goods or good name, yet he must say, for he is better instructed then they; This is proceeded of the Lord, we must say good of it. Let His will be done, so we pray; His will is done, let us submit. Woe be to these crosse wills a 1.214, they struggle, strive and tugge, to pluck the neck out of Gods yoke, and so put themselves to more pain.

Thus still we must resolve the case, God is a debter to no man; He may do what He will with His own; And they that deserve nothing, should be content with any thing. But this is not all, there must not be only a submission unto Gods hand, but a bettering by it; we must gaine by our wants, and be bettered by our afflictions. It is not gold that comes not purer out of the fining pot; he that doth not learn by affliction, will be taught by nothing. We reade but of one, whose heart did not somewhat relent under the blow, and one there was, that did not, That was King Ahaz b 1.215. In his affliction he sinned more; but we must be made more wise by it, else we lose the utilitie c 1.216 and benefit of our affli∣ction, which is not little to a good heart. We must in pati∣ence submit, and learn thereby to search in particular, what the sins are in our souls which God pointeth at, and would kill by the smart in our bodies. If we have worldly losses, we must search then, was not our sinne covetousnesse, bot∣toming our selves on things below? If disgrace; was not my sinne ambition? If scarcitie, was not my sinne the abuse of Gods good creatures, vainly, needlessely, unthankfully? And, if pains or aches; did'st thou not offend in sinfull plea∣sur••s d 1.217? Thus shall we speak good of the affliction, and sub∣mit, yea, and be thankfull. That is a dutie of a Christian, to be thankfull for afflictions, for corrections. It was good for

me that I have been afflicted e 1.218; if it was good for him, then doubtlesse he spake good of it, and was thankfull. I remem∣ber, saith Chrysostome f 1.219, a very pious and holy man was used to pray thus; We give thee thanks O Lord, (Thanks was his first word) for all thy mercies from the first day, to this present day bestowed upon us, Thy unworthy servants: for those we know, for those we know not &c. for our tribulations, and for our re∣freshments; * 1.220 for our hell here, and our Fatherly punishments, as for our Heaven hence, and our hope of rest. He puts afflictions &c. into the Catalogue or register of Gods mercies, and in the first place. Indeed it is no hard matter to open the mouth in way of thankfulnesse for the good things of this life, as we call them; but to be thankfull for the evills, that is an hard task, but yet the dayly work of a true Christian.

The Heathen Philosopher could say g 1.221 A wise man should be fitted for all estates and conditions, like Empedocles his Alle∣goricall Spheare, or like a square body; Throw it, you cannot over∣throw it; cast it down, if you can, it will stand as upright as be∣fore, losing nothing at all of its height h 1.222. And such a man, saith he, hath gained unto himself great rest and ease, for he hath get his minde loose from outward intanglements, and that manifold luggage wherewith we are round about incumbred. We may discern our selves, as we do our metalls, best by our falls, or casting down; if when we are thrown, our sound is flat and dull, murmuring-wise; it argues a leaden spirit * 1.223, which sinks under trouble, like lead into the waters: But if our sound be silver-like, cleare and pleasing, it argues we are of better * 1.224 metall. That is not silver, which comes not clearer out of the fining pot, nor is that gold which doth not shine in the fire i 1.225.

A good eye is for any colour, though all colours are not equally lightsome.

A good care for every sound, though every sound hath not the same gratefulnesse; Good teeth are for all meats that are wholesome, though all be not alike toothsome: so a sound understanding is fit for whatsoever shall happen, though every thing, which happens, is not alike pleasing.

He that cannot receive evill, as we call it, from Gods hand, as well as good, shews, that he is of a crazed temper in the In∣ward man, as an eye that seeks after green colours; or as teeth after that which is tender, which argueth, saith the same Philosopher, Sore eyes, and unsound teeth. k 1.226

I have been long upon the point, the longer that I might perswade to a contentednesse in every condition; and that we might finde use, and pick good out of all. But it is the Lord who perswades the heart, and He doth it, else no con∣dition will please, seem it to others never so pleasing. To possesse our souls in patience (we lose them else) is the rea∣diest way to be eased, and in time to be exalted. The Lord teach thee the wisdome of His people; and give thee con∣tent in present things, understanding in all: He subdue thy spirit; He meeken thy heart; He fashion and mould thy will to a patient submission unto His, that it may be as con∣formable there unto, as the wax unto the seal. All this God can do, He onely. And when He hath thus humbled the heart, and thus meekned the spirit, when he hath thus fa∣shioned it, then the work is done, and nothing will be grie∣vous.

It is a remarkable speech from M^r Bradford l 1.227; he hath many such, but with that one I will conclude, and shut up this;

Though my body be in an house, out of which I cannot come when I will (for he was in prison) yet in that I have conformed my will to Gods will, I finde herein libertie enough; and for my lodging, bedding, feeding, &c. all above my worthinesse; worthinesse quoth I? alasse! I am worthy of nothing but damnation. So he wrote to his mother; I must tell you also what he said to his friend. He was in a strong hold, neare the time of his enlargement, when he was to passe to his crown, but through the fire. His friend told him, that he would, if it pleased, intercede with the Queen for his life; Do if you will, said he: if her Majestie will be pleased to give me my life, I will thank her; if my libertie, I will thank her for that; if neither of both, I will thank her still. If she will keep me here, I can thank her

here; if she will send me hence to the stake, I can thank [Chap. 5] [§ 1] her there also.

See what an humble man can do! he can smart patiently; he can suffer silently; he can receive blows and return thanks. No murmuring, no repining, no com∣plaining in his mouth. He hath committed his cause to God. Learn how contented this man is; and observe the patience of the Saints, so I have done.

Notes

• a 1.1

  Dan. 7. 12.
• b 1.2

  Dan. 2. 42.
• c 1.3

  L. Verulam Essayes. Act. 12. 63.
• d 1.4

  Plut. Conv. 7. sapient.
• e 1.5

  Many have secret hearts, and transpa∣rent counte∣nances. Essayes 21. p 128.
• f 1.6

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. Basil. in Hex. Hom. 5.
• g 1.7

  Prov. 18. 11.
• h 1.8

  Hab. 2. 16. 1. Act. 8. 9.
• * 1.9

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• k 1.10

  An hard thing to know ourselves. Not only the eye of the body, but of the minde too, wants this no∣ble facultie, of looking in∣ward, &c. Translated out of S^t. Basi. Hex. Hom. 9. p. 103
• l 1.11

  Hanc ovis olim gestavit, nec a∣liud tamen inte∣rim quàm ovis suit. Vtop. lib. 2. pag. 166.
• m 1.12

  Act. 25. 23. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Chrysost. Tom. 6. Religi. 601. α. Mirantur quen∣quam esse quem exiguaegemmulae aut lapilli dubi∣us oblectet fulgor, cui quidem stellam aliquam atque ipsum denique solem liceat intueri. Ibid.
• n 1.13

  Prov. 18. 11.
• o 1.14

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. Nazianz ep. 18. 52. pag. 781. You may bet∣ter trust the wind, or letters written in wa∣ter, then mans prosperitie. And so uncer∣tain it is, that we may with a speedier course hasten to God, where is cer∣taintie, and no shadow of change.
• p 1.15

  Pro. 23. 4, 5.
• q 1.16

  1 Cor. 11. 14. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Hom. 26.
• r 1.17

  M^r Bolton's foure last things. p. 40.
• s 1.18

  Sic leve, sic par∣vum est, animum quod laudis a∣varum subruit aut reficit. Hor. lib. 2. epist.
• t 1.19

  O nummi vo∣bis hidantur ho∣nores Juven. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. Pindar. isth. ode 2. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Eurip. orest. 30. (A rich man shall have ma∣ny heralds)
• t 1.20

  Vnum aliquem voluptate ac de∣liciis fluere ge∣mentibus undi{que} aclamentantibus aliis, hoc non est regn••, sed carce∣ris esse custodem. Vtop. Tho. More.
• u 1.21

  Isa. 5. 7. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• * 1.22

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Chrysost. defalo. orat. 5.
• a 1.23

  Pervestigare. Prov. 25. 27.
• b 1.24

  John 8. 50.
• * 1.25

  Prov. 25. 27.
• d 1.26

  Prov. 21. 6.
• e 1.27

  Chron. 26. 16.
• f 1.28

  Lord Ver. Essayes 43. pag. 252.
• * 1.29

  Ibid.
• g 1.30

  Hist. of the World 2 book 3. 4. &c. Pre∣face. p. 20.
• h 1.31

  Lemn. de com∣plex. page 147.
• i 1.32

  D^r Sibbs. S. C. p. 141.
• k 1.33

  Plin. Na••. hist. lib. 7. cap. 7 se cap. 50.
• l 1.34

  Aug. de Civil. 22. 22.
• m 1.35

  Judges 3. 20.
• n 1.36

  2 Sam. 23.
• o 1.37

  Victor timere quid potest? quòd non timet. Sen. Agam. Act. 4.
• p 1.38

  Jam. 4. 14.
• q 1.39

  M. Aurel. Ant. p. 14.
• q 1.40

  Vehementissi∣mè agnoscaut. Trem. Psal. 9. 20.
• r 1.41

  Advinc. p. 36.
• s 1.42

  Eccles. 9. 4.
• t 1.43

  Perinde ac si paries radium se purturire dicat. Cal. Insti. lib. 3. cap. 12. ω. sect. ult.
• u 1.44

  Esay 50. ω.
• x 1.45

  Prov. 25. 19
• y 1.46

  Job 6. 17. We are in Gods hand as the pen in the writers, he makes it, puts ink into it, directs it a∣long the paper; The pen doth nothing of it self, but blot and blurre. Nothing pro∣perly our own but sinne. Cal.
• a 1.47

  See the ex∣cellent Epistle of our Divines before Luther. coment. Galat. See M^r Hookers Disc. of Just. 502.
• b 1.48

  Disc. of Just. p. 494.
• c 1.49

  Job 4 10.
• d 1.50

  Acts 12. 23.
• e 1.51

  Dan. 4. Reade Hist. of the World book▪ 3. § 11. p. 17.
• f 1.52

  Z••ch. 4. 7.
• g 1.53

  Zech. 2. 8.
• h 1.54

  Advanc. 2. p. 3
• i 1.55

  Anima sexum non habet.
• k 1.56

  1. Chron, 29 14 16. Lege Cal. Inst. 2. •• 1. & sect. 11.
• l 1.57

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Cal. ••••st. 2. 5. 13. ω.
• m 1.58

  Spir. ep pag. 201.
• n 1.59

  Beda lib. 2. c. 2. reade our Jew∣ell 3. Art. pag. 186.
• * 1.60

  Virgil. A En. 6. The higher in vertues the more lowly in minde, & c. Isid. Pelusit. lib. 2. ep. 151.
• * 1.61

  Prov. 16. 19.
• o 1.62

  Esay 57. 15. 1. 2. 66.
• p 1.63

  Psal. 18. 23.
• q 1.64

  Hist. of the World B. 2. chap. 4 sect. 13. pag. 239.
• r 1.65

  Gen. 34. 7. 2 Sam. 13. 13
• s 1.66

  Omnis acics & quasi vigilia co∣gitationis obrui∣tur. Aug. de civ. 14. 16.
• t 1.67

  Amplexu stran∣gulant Phil••tae. Sen. ep. See Hist. of the World B. 5. chap. 4. sect. 10. pag. 532.
• u 1.68

  Ibid. 2. Book. 4. 6.
• x 1.69

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. P••••t de educat.
• y 1.70

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. &c. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Hom. Hym. in V••••. p. 423.
• a 1.71

  Hist. of the World. 2. B. 4. 13. p. 239.
• b 1.72

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Chrysost. ad pop. Ant. Hom. 15.
• c 1.73

  Heb. 3. 13.
• d 1.74

  Prov. 11. 18.
• e 1.75

  Ephes. 4. 22.
• f 1.76

  Lege Hom. S. Basilii in Psal. primum, p. 114.
• g 1.77

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. He that lips of this sorceres cup will drink deep; it is a wonder else and a mighty hand restrain∣ing. Clem. Alex. Strom. lib. 7. pag 539.
• h 1.78

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
• i 1.79

  Avila's Spir. epist. 13. p. 92.
• k 1.80

  In Matt. 27. hom 87.
• * 1.81

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.82

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• * 1.83

  Nihil est par∣vum in lege Dei, sed omnia ma∣gna: quia ma∣gnus l••gislator.
• * 1.84

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Lege Hom. S. Basilii Psal. 1. p. 115.
• l 1.85

  Non jam leve est periculum si leve videatur.
• * 1.86

  A golden rule of Chry∣sost. ad Pop. Ant. Hom 15. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 &c.
• m 1.87

  Revel 2. 14.
• n 1.88

  Occasion and nature, are like two inordi∣nate lovers: They seldome meet, but they sinne together. Feltham. Resol. p. 203. prae∣paratoria, & praenuncia Adul. &c. Tacit. Annal. 14. chap. 1.
• o 1.89

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 &c. Chrys. Tom. 6. pag. 598.
• p 1.90

  N••scit anima quando pe••istos introitus sur in greditur; super eum id••ò vigila∣re debet, & cl••u∣dere omnes illos imroitus. O••nar∣rationibus san∣ctis; aur••s audi∣tionibus piis; o∣culos considerati∣one mirandorum operum Dei▪ mentem cogitati∣onibus occupare coelestibus, &c. Chrys. in Matt. hom. 22. lat. tantum. The deliver∣ing of Ioseph out of the hands of his mistresse gi∣ving the occasion, was as admirable every whit, as the rescuing of the three children from the fire; And this that we may avoid the occasions, the harbing••rs and spokes∣men for sinne. Chrysost. ibid.
• q 1.91

  2. Sam. 11.
• r 1.92

  Lege Isid. Pelus. lib. 4. ep. 2. 3. 4. & 12. 24.
• s 1.93

  Januae ••untos & aur••s; senestrae autem oculi. Chrysost. Hom. 51. in Matt. lat. tantum▪ p••ne se∣ram januae tuae, sivis esse securus, id est, legem Divini timoris, &c. Ibid. Sed quoniam fragiles sunt nostrae serae nisi Deus, &c Ibid. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 &c. The eyes our guardians are first corrupted. We had better wander with our feet then with our eyes. Clem. Alex. Paed. lib. 3. cap. 11. p. 1841. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• u 1.94

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉; &c. Chrys. ad Pop. Ant. Hom. 15.
• x 1.95

  Prov. 17. 24. Inconstantes & vagi sunt, adeo u•• animorum insta••ilitatem in∣dicent & vacu••∣tatem sapi••••••iae. Trem.
• y 1.96

  Deut. 12. 10.
• z 1.97

  2 Sam. 11. 2.
• a 1.98

  Joh. 7. 21.
• b 1.99

  Strad. Pro••u. 3. p. 119.
• c 1.100

  Job 31. 7.
• d 1.101

  Lege Chrysost. in ep. Ad Rom. cap. 7. Hom. 12.
• e 1.102

  Homo supponi∣tur in Christiano.
• f 1.103

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Honestorum ho∣minum honesta etiam sunt som∣nia•• Arist.
• g 1.104

  Cujus cerebrum est in ventre, in∣genium in Pati∣nis. Agrip. ep. 18
• k 1.105

  Claud. lib. 3. Praesat. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Chrys••st. in Gen S r. 6. ω.
• i 1.106

  Eccles. 5. 7.
• k 1.107

  Close thy eyes with thoughts of God, and His goodnesse, and thou shalt have sweet dreames, Thy fancie shall not be troubled. Ch••ysost. Ibid 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Prov. 3. 24.
• l 1.108

  M. A. Ant. Med. lib. 12. lin. 3. p. 198.
• m 1.109

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Clem. Alex. Pro∣trept. p 30. A spark of wic∣kednesse neg∣lected, or dal∣lied with in the fancy, may quickly beget a flame of wic∣kednesse in the heart. Corpus opere sordidatur, ani∣mus voluntate. Chrysost. in Matt. Lat. tantum. Hom. 52.
• n 1.110

  From sinne lighting upon our thoughts, it is impossi∣ble: from ma∣king a n••st there, or hatch∣ing, that we may do, and are charged so to do. We must keep our heart from resolving and saying, content. Bp. And. p. 190.
• o 1.111

  Vo•• scelera ad∣missa punitis; A∣pud nos & cogi∣tare, peccare est: Vos conscios timetis; nos eti∣am conscientiam solam. M. Mi∣nut. Fael p. 25. lin. 3. in sol. Summum praesi∣dium Regni est justitia ob oper∣tos tumultus, & Religio ob occul∣tos. Card. de sap. lib. 3. •• Incentiva vi∣••••orum statim in mente iugulabis, & parvulos Ba∣byl••••is allides ad P••tram, &c. Hier. lib▪ 2. ep. ••8. p. 216. •• Succub•• Incu∣bi. Zanch. de oper. Dei. lib. 4 cap. 16. Aug. de Civit. Dei lib. 15. cap. 2.
• * 1.112

  Job 31.
• r 1.113

  1 Sam. 23. 21.
• * 1.114

  Soules Cons. p. 284.
• a 1.115

  Job 2.
• b 1.116

  Gen. 25. 32
• c 1.117

  Verse 34.
• * 1.118

  Heb. 12.
• d 1.119

  James 1. 15.
• e 1.120

  1 John 2. 17.
• f 1.121

  Matt. 12. ••4.
• g 1.122

  Prov. 3.
• * 1.123

  1. Esay 40. 3.
• * 1.124

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. Eurip. Orest. 23. A vain conceit to think of do∣ing great things with little pains. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• i 1.125

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Chrysost. Ibid.
• * 1.126

  Ad Pop. Ant. H. 19.
• k 1.127

  Prov. 4. 23. and 26.
• l 1.128

  Hist. of the World lin 2. chap. 4. § 13. p. 239.
• m 1.129

  You must not account that the chief riches, which you can put in a purse. Clem. Alex. paed. 3. 7. p. 173.
• n 1.130

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Luke 12 29.
• o 1.131

  Fatigant, nec satiant tamen. Buch. in Psal. 73. verse 7.
• p 1.132

  Quis est impro∣bus ille? Libera me à meipso, Do∣mine.
• q 1.133

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Anger is like a smoake, it dar∣kens reason, makes a very wise man a fool, and to do unreasonably▪ Achilles speech. Hom. Iliads 18.
• r 1.134

  Direct. p. 98. Lege Chrysost. in Gen. hom. 53. ω.
• s 1.135

  Prov. 25. 28.
• t 1.136

  Prov. 19. 19.
• u 1.137

  Seneca de ira. lib. 3. cap. 10.
• x 1.138

  Non vis esse iracundus? nè sis curiosus. Ibid. cap. 11.
• y 1.139

  V••rum que in ore. α. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Chrysost. in Gen. de David & Saul Hom▪ 3. p. 1049.
• z 1.140

  Salvian de gu∣ber, lib. 2. p. 71.
• a 1.141

  1 Cor. 6. 13.
• b 1.142

  Plut. Mor. de Cu••i. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Clem. Alex. P••ed. lib. 2. cap. 1. p. 109.
• c 1.143

  In Act. Apost. cap. 7. Hom. 17.
• d 1.144

  Simplice pu••ri∣lique sententiâ ai••bat.
• e 1.145

  Pag. 81.
• f 1.146

  Advanc. p. 242.
• g 1.147

  Vsu quotidiano & exercitatione in declivi et prae∣cipiti loco incita∣tos equos susti∣nere. Caesar. Com. flexibilem esse ad naturam auri proximè accedit. L. Ver. de Aug.
• h 1.148

  Seneca de Ira. lib. 3. cap. 12.
• i 1.149

  Arnob. lib. 1. p. 6. 7. in sol. Lact. de Pru. Dei. cap. 5.
• i 1.150

  D. G.
• k 1.151

  The end of passion, is the beginning of repentance. Felth. Res. 8. Plut. Mor. de Ira.
• * 1.152

  Prov. 19. 11.
• l 1.153

  Vide dominum saevientem in servos, &c. Fluctus cosdem, &c. Lips. de cons. lib. 2. pag. 25.
• * 1.154

  See the first Part. chap. 4. sect. 12.
• m 1.155

  Chrysost. in ep. ad Rom. cap. 8. Hom. 14. pag. 206. 2 Pet. 3. 15. Rom. 2. 4.
• n 1.156

  James 3. 8.
• o 1.157

  Prima semper irarū tela male∣dicta sunt; & quicquid non possumus imbe∣cilli, optamus i∣rati: Salv. De Gub. lib. 3. pag. 81.
• p 1.158

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Iam. 5. 17.
• q 1.159

  Jam. 3. 5.
• r 1.160

  Job 41. 21.
• * 1.161

  Chrysost. Ibid.
• s 1.162

  Chap. 30. 1.
• t 1.163

  Micah. 7. 18, 19.
• u 1.164

  Prov. 16. 23. 24. Verse 32.
• * 1.165

  Drexelius.
• x 1.166

  Jam. 3. 6.
• * 1.167

  1. Part.
• a 1.168

  K. I. Daemono∣log. lib. 3. cap. 1.
• b 1.169

  Caput inter nubila condit. vide Scal. Poet. lib. 5. cap. 3. pag. 524.
• c 1.170

  Prov. 6. 13. 14.
• d 1.171

  Ampliandi sunt favores.
• e 1.172

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. in Acta Apost. 21. Hom. 44. ω.
• f 1.173

  Amos 1. 11.
• g 1.174

  Job 3. from 13 to the 20 verse.
• h 1.175

  1. Sam. 28. 15.
• i 1.176

  2. Sam. 16. 2. Chap. 19. 27. He hath slan∣dered thy ser∣vant, verse 27. Not slanderers 1. Tim. 3. 11. 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
• k 1.177

  Joh. Guil. display of He∣rauldry. pag. 163.
• l 1.178

  James 5. 11.
• m 1.179

  2. Sam. 1.
• n 1.180

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 &c. In Gen. 13. Hom. 34. ••.
• o 1.181

  Levit. 11. 33. ••eade M^r Answ.
• p 1.182

  Avila's spirit. Epist. 24. p. 200.
• q 1.183

  Scarabaeum aiunt simo sepul∣tum vivere, apo∣balsomo immer∣sum emori.
• * 1.184

  Hist. of the World. preface.
• * 1.185

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 &c. In 8. Gen. Hom. 40▪
• * 1.186

  Multos dominos habet qui unum non babet.
• b 1.187

  Esay 22. 2. reade Edmunds upon Cesars Comment. p. 17. & p. 38. 39.
• a 1.188

  1 John 4. 18.
• c 1.189

  Exanimantur metu. Trem. A man that had his eyes covered to re∣ceive his death, and uncovered again that he might reade his pardon, was found stark dead upon the seaffold. Char. chap 16. p. 69.
• d 1.190

  Furori proxi∣mus amor. Tacit. A••nnal. lib. 11.
• e 1.191

  Joy and sorrow have a contrary working. but being immoderate they drink and quaffe up the spirits quickly and sometimes suddenly.
• * 1.192

  Fear is worse then the thing feared, as is prooved by the communi∣cation of Cyrus and Tygranes. Xenop Cyri. paed. l. 3. p. 192.
• f 1.193

  Oratio sine malis, avis sine alis.
• g 1.194

  Sinibil curarem nihil orarem.
• h 1.195

  1. Chron. 22. 29.
• i 1.196

  1. Chron. 28. 3. p••s meus af∣fectus meus, cò seror quocunque seror.
• h 1.197

  Feare hath torment when it is out of place, but if placed right upon God, it quieteth and calmeth the heart, it makes a man feare∣lesse; his heart is sixed trusting in the Lord, Psal. 112.
• i 1.198

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, Ad Colos. Hom. 12.
• k 1.199

  Hic nuptias, ibi planctum, &c. Hier. 21. 22. lib. 2. ω. pag. 247.
• l 1.200

  Remember my bonds. Colos. 4. 18. Lege Chrysost. Calamitas illius fores pulsat qui aliorum calami∣tatibus non mo∣vetur.
• m 1.201

  1 Sam. 25.
• n 1.202

  Prov. 23. and Prov. 10. 10. Trem.
• o 1.203

  Breve & mo∣mentaneum, quod delectat, aeternum; quod cruciat.
• p 1.204

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Tom. 5. Ser. 33.
• q 1.205

  Si cui sua non vidētur amplissi, ma licèt totius mundi Dominus su, tamen miser est sen. ep. 9. Sapiens nemi∣nem videt cum quo se commuta∣tatum velit. Stul••ilia laborat sastidio sui. Quid resert qua∣lis fit status tuus si tibi videtur malusi Sen. ep. 9.
• r 1.206

  Numb. 16.
• s 1.207

  Plut. De tran∣quil. Hor. lib. 2. ep. 3.
• t 1.208

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Luc. Cy∣nicus. p. 8••3. Leg•• Clem. Alex. paed 3. 11. p. 185.
• u 1.209

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c. Chrys. de Lazaro conc. 1. lege Di∣od. Sicul. bib. lib. 12. α.
• x 1.210

  D^r Sibs So. Conf. p. 172.
• x 1.211

  I can be abased Phil. 4. 12. If we can once take out this lesson, it will bring with it such a Christi∣an perfection, that we shall not be to seek almost in any point of Chri∣stianitie. Dr Alray's lectur.
• y 1.212

  Heb. 12. 6. Revel. 3. 19.
• z 1.213

  Gen. 24. 50.
• a 1.214

  Vae oppositis voluntations.
• b 1.215

  2 Chron. 28. 22.
• c 1.216

  Perdidimus u∣tilitatem calami∣tis; miserrimi fa∣cti est is & pes∣simi permansistis, Aug▪ de civit. ib. 1. cap 33.
• d 1.217

  Lege Chrysost. •• Psal. 3.
• e 1.218

  Psal. 119 71.
• f 1.219

  Hom. 10. in Coloss. 3.
• * 1.220

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c.
• g 1.221

  Mar. Aur. Aut. medit. 12. B. sect. 2. p 197.
• h 1.222

  Lege ep. 168. Basil••i.
• * 1.223

  〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉 Naz••anz.
• * 1.224

  orat. 18. When there is a storm with••ut he keeps his minde cleare within. pag. 302.
• i 1.225

  Prosperitie doth best dis∣cover vice; but adversitie doth best discover vertue.
• k 1.226

  Mar. Aur. lib. 10. sect 37. p. 177
• l 1.227

  ••ox p. 1503.