[] ESSAYS ON Various Subjects.

Of Company and Converſation.

WHEN God created Adam, who the firſt Moment was a perfect Man, yet he was not made to be entirely de⯑tached, and to live inde⯑pendant of his Kind; for tho' he had nothing in Proſpect but Plenty, Pleaſure, Innocence, and Secu⯑rity, and by the Dignity of his Nature was ſet above the Society of meer Ani⯑mals, yet God ſaw his Being imperfect without a Helper, and that his Happi⯑neſs [2] was not compleat whilſt he remain'd Solitary; wherefore God miraculouſly reliev'd him, by dividing him, to unite him, and made one Part of him a Com⯑panion for the other, to maintain his Reaſon with a more equal Converſe; for which End God ordain'd Speech, from whence we derive all the Advan⯑tages of Society, and without which Men would have been uſeleſs to each other. For by this we poſſeſs the moſt valuable worldly Bleſſings, Friendſhip and Society, which are eſteem'd amongſt the Pleaſures of the firſt Magnitude, the Comfort of Life depending upon Con⯑verſation, Humane Society being like the working of a Arch-Stone, where all would fall to the Ground if one Peice did not ſuſtain another; and yet Com⯑pany is ſo dangerous, and Speech ſo lia⯑ble to be deprav'd, that what was inten⯑ded for our Advantage is become the Source of all our Misfortunes. For Ori⯑ginal Sin came firſt out of the Mouth by Speaking, before it entred hers by Eat⯑ing, and therefore the due Management of that Member may juſtly be reputed one of the greateſt Myſteries of Wiſdom and Virtue, ſince we find to our Sorrow, the firſt Uſe Eve made of her Tongue was to talk with the Tempter, and from [3] that Diſcourſe to tempt Adam, who was no ſooner fallen, but he makes a frivo⯑lous Excuſe leſs able to cover his Sin than the Fig-Leaves his Nakedneſs; And this Viciouſneſs of the Tongue hath de⯑ſcended from the Infancy of the World even to this Day, for amongſt our great⯑eſt Depravations there are none more Notorious than that of Speech; For we do not only fall by the Slipperineſs of our Tongues, but we deliberately train them to Miſchief, and what was firſt intended for the Benefit of Humane Society, is now become the great Diſturber of it, we living in an Age wherein we count it a part of our Birth-right to let looſe our Tongues, and to uſe the Spur where we ſhould hold the Bridle; whereby Converſation is generally Corrupted, and he that Converſes has almoſt as ma⯑ny Snares as Companions, there being ſcarce any ſingle Man, but by his Diſ⯑courſe, Example, or Behaviour, does recommend to us, or imprint in us, or by a kind of Contagion inſenſibly infect us with ſome Vice or other; ſo that Converſation, which was intended to cultivate our Minds and civilize the World, hath turn'd it almoſt to a Wil⯑derneſs. Upon this Account ſome Men will take a Pett at Mankind, and walk [4] into the Deſarts to avoid Company, when it is more prudential to ſtand their Ground, and to fence againſt the In⯑conveniencies that may happen; and if they fear bad Company they ſhould keep cloſe to Men of Virtue, and ſtand care⯑fully upon their Guard; it being more reaſonable to be converſable for the ſake of the Good, than to fly from every Mortal for fear of meeting with bad People: If every Man were poſſeſt with this Shineſs, not only States and King⯑doms, but even Humane Nature would be deſtroy'd; for to what end was Speech given to Man, if it were not for Enter⯑tainment of each other? And muſt we quit our Station, and turn Savage by our ſelves, and ſuffer no Company, for fear of Bad? This is to take Things by the wrong Handle, for nothing but our own Miſcarriages ought to affect us, and not thoſe of other People.

'Tis certain that all Mens Bodies are naturally of the ſame Clay, the difference of Education only is the Pot⯑ter's Hand that forms them into Veſ⯑ſels of Honour or Diſhonour; there being no humane Means more effectual towards ripening and ſharpning Mens Intellects, giving them an edge and quickneſs for Converſation, than good [5] Education, becauſe it takes them in that Age wherein their Faculties are, as their Joints, pliable and tractable, and ſo capable of being by Exerciſe impro⯑ved into great Degrees of Strength, Activity and Ability: So that one of the greateſt Bleſſings which Man can receive at God's Hands, is the favoura⯑ble Bleſſing of good Education, which poliſhes and purifies Nature as one would do a precious Stone wholly defiled with Earth; and this makes Men become like Angels, when without it the beſt Na⯑tures would ſtill dwell in Brutiſhneſs. Now ſince after good Education, it is a great Part of Wiſdom as well as Breed⯑ing, to learn what is convenient, and to take the true height of our Acquain⯑tance, who converſing with our Minds, caſt upon them either Graces or Defor⯑mities; It will therefore be highly ne⯑ceſſary for young Gentlemen, who are tender of their Honour and Credit, to be more than ordinarily careful of being too venturous of any Company, and to be very curious in taking an exact Survey with what Perſons they may ſafely and decently Converſe, and how they ought to Behave themſelves therein.

[6]It is uſual with Phyſicians, in infectious Times, to forbid moſt ſtrictly the ſmal⯑ler Exceſſes and Exorbitances of Diet, as apt to breed any Diſtemper, becauſe every ſmall Accident of that Kind (thro' the Malignity of the Air) is then likely to turn into the Plague: So now that Atheiſm and Profaneneſs are rife in the World, and ſpread much, and Debau⯑chery is ſo predominant and contagious, that we daily ſee many Men of virtuous Diſpoſitions and good Inclinations, (which would have grown to Abilities) to be by ill Company moſt perniciouſly Corrupted; ſome Cautions herein ſeem therefore highly neceſſary: For as if we Breath in an infectious Air we ſhall ſuck in Diſeaſes, ſo if we live in bad Company we ſhall ſoon add to their Number, and learn their Vices and Im⯑perfections.

There is nothing more dangerous for young Gentlemen than to miſtake them⯑ſelves in the Choice of their Company: This is a Point of ſuch Importance, that upon it depends the whole Courſe of their Lives and Manners; the frequen⯑ting with wicked Men brings us acquain⯑ted with Vice, makes us behold it with⯑out Emotion, by Degrees we begin to act it with ſome Pleaſure, and Time breeds in us a Habit.

St. Auguſtin well expreſſes the Danger of this, ſaying, ‘"It is a Nail driven in⯑to a Poſt with a Hammer, which after the firſt and ſecond Stroak may be drawn out with little Difficulty, but being once driven up to the Head, the Pincers can take no hold to draw it out, which cannot be done but by Deſtruction of the Wood.’

He that lives in this great Theatre of the World, ſhould in the firſt Place learn how to ſuit himſelf into ſundry Habits, that he may be inabled in this Comedy to represent many Perſons, no Man be⯑ing fit to appear upon this Stage till he knows how to Act his Part to the Life; and therefore he muſt labour to have his Mind made pliable, which may ſtoop and riſe according to the ſeveral Con⯑ditions and Capacities of Men he aſſo⯑ciates with, not fearing to ſpeak to the Greateſt with due Obſervance, nor diſ⯑daining to converſe familiarly with the Meaneſt, reſpecting Goodneſs where⯑ever he ſees it, which he ſhall as often find under a Ruſſet Coat as under a [8] Velvet Caſſock, and with Moral honeſt Men as ſoon as with the more Learned; for Converſation hath made very accom⯑pliſh'd Perſons without the Aſſiſtance of Learning, the World being a great Book which inſtructs continually, Converſa⯑tions are living Libraries, not at all in⯑ferior to Books; Good Conferences are like Flints, which from a cold and dark Heap produce Heat and Light, if Men ſtrike them one againſt the other; and the familiar Diſcourſes of two or three good Wits may be more advan⯑tageous to us than the empty Diſpu⯑tations of many Pedants together, and they vent more in one Hour than we ſhall read all Day in a Library.

There is nothing that puts better Thoughts in a Man than a good Com⯑panion; for Example hath the force of Precept, and touches the Heart with an Affection to Goodneſs; and not only the frequent hearing, but the very ſeeing of a Wiſe Man delights us.

The beſt Rule herein is to aſſociate with thoſe who may be the better for us, and we for them; theſe Reſpects are mutual; for while we teach we learn: It is not Safe to truſt our ſelves with much Company; whoſoever goes much abroad, he ſcarce comes home the same [9] Man he went out, ſomething or other diſcompoſes him; for it is with our Minds, as it is after a long Indiſpoſition with our Bodies, we are grown ſo ten⯑der that the leaſt Breath of Air expoſes us to a Relapſe.

There is certainly much Pleaſure and Satisfaction in communicating our Thoughts, and in the Intercourſes of Friendſhip well choſen; and therefore Seneca ſaid, If Knowledge and Wiſdom were offered him, on the Terms of a Se⯑cret, and that he muſt not ſpeak of it, he would poſitively refuſe the Preſent. And Tully in his Offices tells us, If a Perſon had all the Bleſſings of this Life, yet if he was kept from all Company, and ne⯑ver to ſee or converſe with Men, he had much rather Die, than Live in ſuch Con⯑dition.

Now the firſt Step to Converſation is our outward Carriage and Comport⯑ment, wherein the leſs we are conſtrain'd, our Actions and Thoughts ſeem there⯑by more Innocent: The Differences of Men are eaſily read in their Behaviour, and a ſhort Obſervation of that will often tell us as much as a long Confe⯑rence. Some Mens Carriage is like a Verſe, where every Syllable is meaſur'd; but where there is ſo much Care about the [10] Outſide, there is commonly a Remiſneſs in what belongs to the Mind; it being as rare to ſee ſtarched complimental Man Wiſe, as to ſee a Woman Valiant. There is a ſort of Men who have an earneſt Application to make every thing ſit right about them, which ſtrikes too deep into their ſmall Stock of Thoughts to allow it Furniture for any thing elſe, and therefore to do right to theſe fine⯑ſpun Gentlemen, Converſation is too courſe a Thing for them, and it's beſt to leave them to their Taylor, with whom they will live in better Cor⯑reſpondence than with any other Com⯑pany. Indeed, a good Preſence and handſome Mein, ſorted with Valour and Wiſdom, does a Man excellent Service, (if he ſpoils it not with Affe⯑ctation) and carries with it (as Queen Elizabeth us'd to ſay) Letters or Re⯑commendation; and if I am rightly in⯑form'd, this was the only Thing that brought the great Duke of Buckingham into Favour with King James I. by ſee⯑ing him at a Maſque in Court. Cer⯑tainly, if our outward Comportment be good, the adorning the Mind does dou⯑ble that Excellency; if ill, it will make it good, when the Mind performs what the Body promiſes not. Our Behaviour [11] ſhould be like a well-made Suit of Cloaths, more proper than gaudy, more fit than fine. In our outward Carriage, all manner of Affectation is unſeemly, there being nothing more becoming a Gentleman than a native Freedom there⯑in, a Gracefulneſs of Behaviour ſetting off much when it is not conſtrain'd. Dancing is good, and adds Grace to a Man, when he well performs it; but a Man muſt not ſet himſelf to it as if he made it his Trade. Dancing makes the Body free, and not ſo ſtiff but to move gracefully; and a Man's Skill is therein perceiv'd tho' he ſtands ſtill: But who⯑ever intends to make it his Maſter-peice, one may call it excelling in a Miſtake, which is no good Commendation, as a late great Lord ſaid. It is a great Advan⯑tage to be a good Actor; for Action is a kind of Expreſſion, and Words well choſen are agreeable, when they expreſs Things that pleaſe; ſo all that is ex⯑preſſed by the Face and Body is well re⯑ceiv'd when done with a good Grace. But we muſt not here miſtake: For there are thoſe that are ſometimes Actors of Nothing, as well as thoſe that are Speakers of Nothing: The Action and Air of the Countenance have certain Charms, which have a great Influence [12] on our Minds: An Oration ſpoken by a good Orator appears great and lofty, tho' penn'd in common Terms, and compounded of ordinary Conceptions; and many Preachers have in their Pul⯑pits charm'd their Auditors, whoſe Ser⯑mons in Print were ſcarce worth Read⯑ing: I have heard Verſes recited in a good Tone, which have been admir'd, which being read by another, their Eſteem was much diminiſh'd; and it's probable the Reaſon of this Alteration proceeded from the Harmony which was then wanting: We ſhould not look upon this as ſtrange of good Orations, and agreeable Conferences, if we call to mind that of Muſical Inſtruments, touch⯑ed by the Hands of an exquiſite Maſter; there are ſome Tones which inſpire Sad⯑neſs, and ſweetly incline our Souls to Languiſh; and there are Airs which Re⯑joyce and make our Hearts Merry, and pleaſingly compel our Feet to Dance their Time.

In Converſation, it is not enough to have Wit, but he muſt be an extream well-bred Man to know how to be plea⯑ſant in Converſation, amongſt Perſons that know how to Judge; becauſe moſt Men have not a delicate Taſte, nor are able to diſcern what is beſt; and it often [13] happens that ſuch Perſons are taken, nay even charm'd with certain ridiculous Parts they play to them; but tho' theſe Fooleries are current amongſt ſome, yet well-bred Perſons do not love ſuch kind of Buffoonry, and thoſe that uſe them are rather the Subjects of Scorn than Laugh⯑ter, to thoſe that rightly underſtand: Such are half-witted Men, who have a tinſel Wit, which ſhines amongſt thoſe who cannot Judge, Petty Merchants of ſmall Conceits, who have an empty Ha⯑bit of Prating without Meaning, they always aim at Wit, but generally make falſe Fire

'Tis true, we cannot ſhew too much Wit in pleaſant Converſation; yet a Man muſt have a great Care not to ſhew himſelf too forward, as if one would appear ready to make Jeſts and ſpeak fine Things: There is ſomething of a free way, which cannot be well expreſſed, which hath a much better Effect; but yet it is not good to be too Reſerv'd, nor affect Singularity; an open and com⯑plaiſant Carriage hath very great Charms to attract Love: However, what Ad⯑vantage ſoever any one hath, he muſt be pleas'd with others, if he would have others pleas'd with him: And if we like not our Company, let us withdraw from [14] them; but whilſt we are in Company, we ſhould carry our ſelves ſo, that we ſhould be acceptable to thoſe with whom we Converſe, tho' we have no Kindneſs for them. As for thoſe who think to Revenge themſelves by a croſs Carriage, they do themſelves more Injury than they do to others. The Love of Socie⯑ty is Natural, but the Choice of our Company is Matter of Prudence, and the Conſcience of giving good Example is one of the greateſt Obligations any Man can lay upon the Age he lives in.

It is indeed a fair Step towards Hap⯑pineſs and Virtue, to delight in the Converſation of good and wiſe Men, and where thoſe cannot be had, it is beſt to keep no Company at all. When Men are Good and Virtuous, they are as good alone as in Company, but moſt Men are of themſelves the worſt Com⯑pany they can keep; let ſuch therefore Converſe with others, and avoid them⯑ſelves; but he that cannot ſecure him⯑ſelf in Privacy, ſhall be much more ex⯑pos'd in Publick. Many a Ship is loſt in the Harbour, but more in the Ocean. There are ſome Perſons whoſe Compa⯑ny we cannot too much frequent; 'tis certain, by ſeeing them often, beſides the Improvement we have by being with [15] them, we gain a good Eſteem to our ſelves, as we Perfume our ſelves un⯑awares by walking amongſt the Jeſſamins and Orange Trees. Witty Men, who are well-bred, always ſay ſomething that pleaſes, and ſeldom do any thing which hath not ſome Mark of Worth and Breeding; and by converſing with and obſerving them, we may not only in⯑form our ſelves of ſuch Things as are neceſſary to be known for the making an accompliſh'd Man, but we alſo learn how to apply them, and likewiſe ſo far as to know when 'tis proper and man⯑nerly to be Silent: But we muſt know how to diſtinguiſh, for we ſhall often hear very good Things come from Men, who behave themſelves with as much Becomingneſs as can be diſired; yet many times this is but borrow'd Lan⯑guage, and the Actings of a Part, and therefore we muſt not regard ſo much that which appears Polite and Regular, as we do certain other Things, which ſhew whether there be a Foundation, and that the Underſtanding goes farther, and is of larger Extent.

We find in ſome Men a certain Plau⯑ſibleneſs of Carriage, which pleaſes in young People, but yet paſſes away like a Flower or a Dream, and we ſhall often [16] ſee theſe Men become the Neglect and Scorn of thoſe who once admir'd them; but a well-bred Man hath more ſolid Virtues, tho' he be leſs buſie and for⯑ward to ſhew himſelf in the World; and if we love a Man for his good Breeding and Honeſty we ſhall always love him. Yet it is not enough to have a fair Out⯑ſide to make a Man agreeable; that which is of greateſt Importance, is the Will regulating our Intellectuals, and taking Care that our Head and our Heart be in good Order; for no Man can ever be Excellent without having a good Heart and much Wit.

An accompliſh'd Perſon, tho' of ne⯑ver ſo much Wit, ought not to be too Confident of himſelf; for the more he Excels, the more Care he ought to take not to Preſcribe to the Company; for naturally every Man is afraid of a Maſter Wit, and Men do not love to be he⯑ctor'd out of their Opinions, it being eſteem'd the common Birth-right of Mankind, that every Man to opine and judge according to the Dictates of his own Underſtanding, and not of another's; and therefore a Magiſterialneſs in Opi⯑nion is very unbefitting Men in Conver⯑ſation, for it does not only faſten upon our Nature, but upon the better Part of [17] it, our Reaſon: Freedom is the endea⯑ring Thing in Society, and where that is controlled, Men are not very fond of Aſſociating themſelves. 'Tis Natural for us to be uneaſie in the Preſence of thoſe that aſſume an Authority over us; as Children care not for the Company of their Parents or Tutors that govern them. And Men will care leſs for theirs, who would make them Children by uſurping a Tutorage over them. This Perem⯑ptorineſs in Converſation renders Wiſe Men diſobliging and very troubleſome, and Fools ridiculous and contemptible, we ſeeing none ſo peremptory as half⯑witted People, who have juſt enough to excite their Pride, but not ſo much as to cure their Ignorance: This is the Effect of a mean and imprudent Educa⯑tion; a Man who hath converſt only with the lower Sort of Company, who durſt not diſpute nor examine his Aſſer⯑tions, thinks the ſame falſe Coin will paſs over the World, which went cur⯑rant amongſt his Petty Comerades; And we may obſerve this Fault is moſt uſual amongſt young Men, who have come raw into Company with good Fortunes and ill Breeding. And there⯑fore thoſe Perſons are moſt to be eſteem⯑ed, who ſhew their Wit without offen⯑ding [18] any one; and ſuch are uſually ha⯑ted, who make uſe of Wit only to the diſpleaſing of others; and a Wiſe Man ought to avoid the Company of ſuch, it being a ſmall Advantage to have Wit, if we do not make uſe of it for gaining the good Opinion and Love of the World. We ought to deal with others, with that Patience, Reſpect, and Mo⯑deration, which we expect from them, not ſetting forth our own Opinions im⯑periouſly, nor rejecting the Opinion of others arrogantly, remembring that we are all enwrapped in a deep Miſt, and that all our Reaſoning is but groping in the Dark; and therefore we ſhould paſs gently over the Errors of our Neigh⯑bours, to oblige them to the like Ac⯑count: But many Gentlemen are ſo far from this generous Humour, that they always behave themſelves diſdainfully in Company, as if they could not ſet a juſt Value upon themſelves without the ut⯑juſt Contempt of others. But this Pride is commonly a Wind that blows only one Way, down Hill upon thoſe below him, upwards they breath gentler Gales, it being one of their moſt ſtudied Fa⯑culties, to perform all Acts of the high⯑eſt ſuper-errogating Civility to thoſe above them; Now there is nothing that [19] makes a Man more diſtaſteful to Com⯑pany, than this haughty Humour, it being not only Pride but Inhumanity, to attribute ſo much to the Prerogative of Birth, as not to ſhew Affability and Reſpect to the Meaneſt.

The Converſation of thoſe who are bred in Armies is not commonly very pleaſing, but in Recompence, they are ſaid to be Men of Honour and Repu⯑tation, as if that would excuſe their Wants in every Thing elſe, when there is nothing ſo diſguſting as to be diſ⯑agreeable and moroſe in Company. This is like certain Women, that pretend to Virtue, who value themſelves much up⯑on their being Coy and Fierce, which makes Men think all is counterfeit and affected, and that they are eaſier gotten, than thoſe who obſerve good Manners and Breeding, and are as Affable as theſe are Severe. Such Women are like thoſe peeviſh Miſtreſſes, who think they have a Licence to Kick and Scratch, provided they do not Kiſs, as if Ladies could not be honeſt without being rude. A con⯑fident yet a modeſt Carriage, which is neither mean nor ſullen, having nothing which ſavours not of Goodneſs and Ho⯑neſty, is that which is moſt eſteem'd in the World, and takes with every Body: [20] Women who have moſt Wit, like beſt a diſcreet Reſervedneſs in Men, thoſe being uſually diſappointed of their Aims, who throw, as it were, their Hearts at Ladies Heads, and at the firſt Daſh tell them more of their Love, than can in any probability be true, and many times more than they deſire to hear.

In our Converſation, it is good Ad⯑vice to ſpare and thriftily to order that which a Man knows, and tho' he hath that in his Head which is better than Silence, yet he ought to be more wil⯑ling to hear, than to ſpeak, to learn, than to teach; it being a great Folly to be more ready to ſhew all that is in us, rather than to learn Knowledge of ano⯑ther, to ſpend our own Stock, rather than to get new. When we hear we receive, when we ſpeak we give, and tho' it be more glorious to give, yet it is more profitable to receive; and there⯑fore a juſt Moderation herein is beſt, not to be over-Silent nor Talkative, the firſt ſhewing Stupidity or Scorn, the laſt Giddineſs of the Brain: Prudent Men will therefore ſpeak no more than to bring on Diſcourſe, and will give others their turns of Speech; a Civil Gueſt will no more Talk all, than Eat all the Feaſt. It is a great Advantage to know [21] how to Speak and to Write; when either ſmells too much of Study it pleaſes not; the general Opinion is, that Men ſhould Write as they Speak, and Speak as they Write; but we ſeldom do either, as we wiſh we could: In order to this, it were good when we Write to imagine we are Speaking, that we may not put in any Thing that is not Natural, or which may not be ſpoken in Company; and when we Speak, we ſhould fancy we are Writing, that we may not ſay any Thing that is not fitting: Many People are ſaid to Speak well who cannot Write well, but I doubt there is a Miſtake herein, for ſome Men may ſeem to Speak well in Appearance, when they do not in Effect: For when a Man really excels in Speak⯑ing, he may do the ſame in Writing; but this latter requires more Care, and one may Write well, without knowing how to Speak well, for we uſually ſee thoſe who make it their Buſineſs to Write well, have commonly a languiſh⯑ing Way of Speaking; for to Speak well, is not only to make our Thoughts be underſtood, but to expreſs our Ap⯑prehenſions, which are two very diffe⯑rent Things; and there is no greater ſign that a Man well underſtands him⯑ſelf, than to be able perſpicuouſly to [22] Speak to the Underſtanding of another; and our Diſcourſe ſhould always be meaſur'd by the Aptneſs of it to whom it is Addreſſed; for unleſs our Speech be fitted to the Capacities of thoſe we Diſ⯑courſe with, tho' it be never ſo elabo⯑rate, it will rather Confound than Edi⯑fie.

Thus, the beſt Art of Speaking ſhews it ſelf under a natural Dreſs; it is like plain natural Beauty, thoſe that are the moſt Perfect ſhew themſelves leaſt, and when our Words ſmell of Art and Study, one may conclude, they that ſay them have but little of either, or elſe that they know not how to make uſe of them. This is the Fault of thoſe that Speak ſo, that they cannot be under⯑ſtood but by the Learned: We ſhould therefore to our Power rather mean Wiſely, than ſpeak Learnedly, much leſs Affectedly; for thoſe whoſe Tongues run Proud after Words, are of very lit⯑tle Uſe, but amongſt ſuch Ears as call a Bag-Pipe Muſick, for their Lips open like a Purſe without Money, and their Tongues like a Fencer before a Pageant, ſtir, but not ſtrike. A Gentleman ſhould talk like a Gentleman, that is, like a Wiſe Man; his Knowledge ought to be general, he ſhould have a Taſte of every [23] Thing, he ſhould not be a Slave to one Science, one Knowledge is but Part of the Houſe, like a bay Window, no Man will build his Houſe ſo maim'd, much leſs himſelf, he muſt be Com⯑pleat.

All thoſe who have given Rules for Civil Life, have, in order to it, put very ſevere Reſtrictions upon the Tongue, that it run not before the Judgment. 'Twas Zeno's Advice to Dip the Tongue in the Mind before one ſhould Speak; and Theophraſtus was us'd to ſay, It was ſafer truſting to an unbridled Horſe, than to intemperate Speech; and daily Experience confirms this Aphoriſm, for thoſe who ſet no Guard upon their Tongues are hurried by them into a thouſand Indecencies, and very often into real conſiderable Miſchiefs; and whereas Men ſhould keep a Lock upon their Lips, they give their Tongue the Key of their Heart, and the Event hath been often as Unhappy, as the Proceeding was Prepoſterous.

And as our Words muſt be the Pro⯑duct of our Judgment, ſo they muſt be temperate and decent, mixed with Cur⯑teſie and Civility; for he that hath calm⯑ed his Paſſions, hath nothing to betray them to raſh and rude Language, which [24] is a Foam caſt up only by the Billows of a turbulent Mind, and can never be the Iſſues of a ſerene compoſed Tem⯑per; neither does any thing Charm us more than gracious Language, Quae ne illos quidem quos damnat offendit; a pregnant Example of which was ſeen in the laſt Age, at the Tryal of the Earl of Strafford, Lord Lieutenant of Ire⯑land, in the Year 1642. where, amongſt others that were appointed by the Houſe of Commons to Manage their Impeach⯑ment againſt him, there was one emi⯑nent Lawyer, who urged very ſmartly againſt his Lordſhip, but yet with great Reſpect and Civility of Language; And when the Earl came to Reply, as he did to every one, he ſaid he had been very roughly handled by moſt of the Plea⯑ders; but that he was very much be⯑holding to one civil Gentleman amongſt them, (naming the former Perſon) who, tho' he had touched him nearer the Quick than any other, yet he was ob⯑liged to return him Thanks, becauſe he had cut his Throat with a clean Knife: Thus we ſee good Words are afforded at the ſame Price as ill, and are not on⯑ly cheap, but prevalent upon all Occa⯑ſions.

[25]Next to this Graciouſneſs of Lan⯑guage, we ſhould be very careful that our Speeches carry Integrity with them, Candour and Ingenuity being moſt e⯑ſteem'd in Diſcourſe: Thoſe who have upright Hearts, their Judgment (how ſmall ſoever) will be ſtill the ſame, but thoſe who have many Turnings and Doubles in their Heart, never have a right Underſtanding, there is always ſome counterfeit Light, which gives them falſe Appearances, and then their Artifices and Craft ſhew they have not Parts ſufficient to effect their Deſigns by fair and honeſt Ways; whereas the way that pleaſes worthy Perſons, is that Freedom of Plain-Dealing. What a Gracefulneſs ſo clear a Source gives to all the Actions of our Life? How it beautifies our Words and Thoughts? And how pleaſing a Thing it is to Speak well, when ſo much Sincerity goes a⯑long with it? And tho' one may not perhaps be Happy in all Things by following this Maxim; however, one is ſure at leaſt to gain the Eſteem and Af⯑fection of thoſe who underſtand true Merit, nothing being ſo commendable in Converſation as to have an upright and ſincere Heart, which ſeems to be the Foundation of Wiſdom.

[26]Speech was given to Man as the Image and Interpreter of the Soul: It is anime index & ſpeculum, the Meſſen⯑ger of the Heart, the Gate by which all that is within iſſues forth, and comes into open Veiw: And therefore the Philoſopher ſaid well to the Child, Lo⯑quere ut te videam, Speak that I may ſee thee, that is the Inſide of thee; for as Veſſels are known whether they be broken or whole by their inward Sound; ſo is Man from his Speech, which car⯑ries with it not only a great Influence, but a great Diſcovery of our Minds; and Integrity herein is the publick Faith of Mankind. With all ſorts of Men we ſhould deal ingeniouſly yet reſer⯑vedly, ſaying what we think, but think⯑ing more than we ſay, it being not good to ſay at all Times all that the Heart think⯑eth, tho' all that the Heart thinketh be good. Freedom of Speech is ſome⯑times to be foreborn, leaſt we give others Power thereby to lay hold on the Rudder of our Minds; for in all there are ſome Places weaker than others, and prudent Men will take heed of ly⯑ing uncover'd that Way: 'Tis true there may be poſſibly in Diſcourſe a Fault of Omiſſion; but this is a right-hand Error; a Man may be ſometimes ſorry he ſaid [27] no more, but very often that he ſaid ſo much: God hath given us two Ears and one Mouth, that we ought to Hear more than to Speak; we have no Ear-Lids to keep us from Hear⯑ing, and often muſt Hear againſt our Will; but our Mouth ſhuts naturally, and we may keep our Tongue from Speaking, unleſs by Intemperance we loſe that Privilege of Nature.

The Truth is, our Tongue is ſo ſlip⯑pery that is eaſily deceives a heedleſs Guard, Nature hath given it ſome un⯑happy Advantages towards it, it being the moſt ready for Motion of any Mem⯑ber, and therefore is to be the more carefully managed; the chiefeſt Rules to be preſcribed herein, are Sufficiency and Pertinency, a Man ſhould not only know what to ſay, but what not to ſay, for in Speech enough is better than all; Words are but the Lacquies of Reaſon, of which to ſend more than will per⯑form the Buſineſs is ſuperfluous, and the Diſcretion in Speaking, is not ſo much in Speaking few Words, as in Speaking none Impertinent; otherwiſe the Dumb were Born with great Ad⯑vantage, if we muſt retrench the Uſe of the Tongue, inſtead of moderating it.

[28]A wiſe Man's Words muſt be weigh⯑ty and material; they are weighed in the Balance, ſays the Son of Syrach; and therefore a Gentleman's Diſcourſe ſhould be ſuch as might anſwer that Character, no Man ever attempting to put Froth and Bubbles into the Scales.

When Zeno heard a young Man full of Talk, Aures inquit in linguam de⯑fluxêre, he ſaid, His Ears were fallen into his Tongue; intimating thereby, that they ſhould Hear much and Speak little: The Truth is, when People are very young, they cannot Judge rightly of any Thing; and it happens either by Experience, Reflections, or meeting with ſome intelligent Perſons, they come to be of another Mind, and de⯑ſpiſe that which they once ſo much ad⯑mir'd, and many Times laugh at them⯑ſelves, when they examine themſelves without Flattery. It is certain, he that always Talks adventures himſelf too far, thereby depriving himſelf of Obſerva⯑tion, which is the great Advantage of Society, and from whence comes Expe⯑rience and Wiſdom: Herein we ſhould imitate cunning Shopkeepers, who ſhew their Wares in a half Light, upon Oc⯑caſion we ſhould Speak but ſparingly, and rather Starve than Surfeit our Au⯑ditors. [29] Our Diſcourſes muſt not be too florid in the beginning; it is a Thing much to be wiſhed, that all which one ſays be good and fine, according as the Subject merits; but we muſt proceed by Degrees; Nature is in this, as in all other Things, a very knowing Miſtreſs; con⯑ſider how She proceeds inſenſibly, the faireſt Day when it begins to break and appear, hath ſo little Light, that it is hardly diſcernable whether it be Day or Night; and nothing is ſo great a ſign that the way of Speaking is noble, as when it leaves ſome certain Things to be apprehended without Speaking them; and therefore it is good to know when to give over, and to proceed to other Matters, or at leaſt we ſhould give them another Face and Turn, becauſe Diver⯑verſity ſeems not tedious.

To make our ſelves be heard with Pleaſure, we muſt ſay ſuch Things as others will be glad to hear, and ſay them pleaſantly, which is the beſt way to make us be belov'd; beſides, when we pleaſe others well, we are likewiſe better pleas'd with our ſelves. Excellent Painters ne⯑ver draw all, they ſtill allow ſomething for you to exerciſe your own Imagina⯑tion, and always leave you more to find out than they diſcover; The Graces ap⯑pear [30] very rarely, and even when they are ſeen, they will not be conſider'd full fac'd nor uncover'd; in the ſame manner we ſhould not open our ſelves too much; and in our Diſcourſes we ſhould obſerve this as a general Rule, Either to Speak fitly, or to be Silent wiſely; for many by their Silence may paſs for Wiſe Men, whom Speech would preſently diſcover otherwiſe. When the Aſs diſguiſed himſelf in the Lyon's Skin, he frighted all the Beaſts, and even the cunning Fox, till he heard him Bray. Pro certo ſcias niſi rudentem audiviſſem & te ego timueſſem: Unlearned Men, which ſeem of Ability to Strangers, are quickly diſcover'd by their Loquacity, and thoſe that ſpeak much in Company ſeldom ſpeak well, for they that well underſtand themſelves know not how to dwell in Talk. Long Diſcourſes, ſays Plutarch, like over-feather'd Arrows, ſhoot beyond the Mark, and by wearying the Attention, ordinarily loſe both Game and Labour. Ariſtotle anſwer'd a Man well, who having held him in a long Diſcourſe, in the end begg'd his Excuſe, telling him he might have ſav'd his Apo⯑logy, for he had not minded what he ſaid. And it was a ſmart Reply of Theo⯑critus to an ill Poet, repeating many of [31] his Verſes, and asking which he liked beſt, anſwer'd, Thoſe which he had omit⯑ted: And indeed, the Company of ſuch who Talk much to little Purpoſe, ought as little to be regarded; for if a Man be vain and trifling in his Diſ⯑courſes, both he that hears, and he that anſwers, will be equal Loſers of their Time. And if we ſhut our Ears to tri⯑fling Diſcourſes, much more carefully ought we to keep our Hearts from drawing in the Breath of obſcene Diſ⯑courſes, which are the very Peſt of Con⯑verſation. We ſhould herein imitate Xenocrates the Philoſopher, who being asked an obſcene Queſtion, and giving no anſwer, being again importun'd to Anſwer, ſaid well; De tali re te homi⯑nem vanum interrogare decet, me autem reſpondere nequaquam: Obſcene Speeches, like Oil falling upon Linnen, will ſpread much; and as the Poiſon of the Body enters by the Mouth, ſo the Poiſon of the Heart enters by the Ear; and there⯑fore thoſe who have Honeſty in their Hearts, will have only civil and modeſt Words in their Mouths.

Next to Modeſty in our Converſation, we muſt be careful not to be too inqui⯑ſitive into other Men's Affairs; and if we would be perſuaded to affect a [32] wholſom Ignorance therein, it would much conduce to our Eaſe and Inno⯑cence; for it is the Itch of the Ear that breaks out at the Tongue, and were not Curioſity the Purveyor, this Trade would ſoon be ſet aſide. The Boy in Plutarch being ask'd what he carried hid under his Cloak, anſwer'd well, That he there⯑fore carried it ſo, that the other might not know it. An unſeaſonable Inquiry into Things ſhews a great Weakneſs and Folly in the Inquiror.

When Socrates was asked by a curi⯑ous Perſon, What was done in the next World; he told him, He had never been there, nor ſpoken with any that came from thence. St. Auguſtin tells us, Cu⯑rioſus eſt qui ea avidè ſcrutatur quae ad ſe non pertinent, ſtudioſus vero qui dili⯑genter ea perquirit, quae ad ſe attinent.

We ſhall ſee ſome Men very inquiſi⯑tive into the Religion of their Acquain⯑tance, being very ſhy of diſcourſing with Men of differing Perſuaſions, and put on an angry Zeal againſt them, be⯑lieving they are fighting God Almighty's Quarrel, and therefore grow into a hardned Severity againſt all who diſ⯑ſent from them; And we ſhall frequent⯑ly ſee Men, whoſe Manners and Con⯑ditions are very conformable in all the [33] neceſſary Obligations of Human Socie⯑ty, to avoid each others Company, and grow unſociable to each other, meerly becauſe the one cannot think as the other does: Whereas our Opinions come from our Heads, our Affections from our Hearts; and therefore a wiſe Man will no more trouble himſelf about his Companions Religion, than about the Religion of his Phyſician or Lawyer: The Offices of Friendſhip which one Man owes to another, having nothing to do with that Conſideration; and Men do not ſo much queſtion, whether their Servants be Virtuous, as whether they be Diligent, which is the Thing for which they make uſe of them. But yet this is a pernicious Error, for Men to think themſelves no otherwiſe concer⯑ned in their Servants, than they are in their Horſes and Oxen, to look upon them only as another Species of work⯑ing Cattle; and, ſo they do their Buſi⯑neſs, care not how arrant Brutes they be: Whereas Gentlemen ſhould con⯑ſider, that they with themſelves are com⯑mon Servants to one great Maſter; and that the Subjection of one to the other, is but the wiſe Oeconomy of their Lord, who hath made the one as Stewards or Superviſors to regulate the reſt, and [34] then it will appear a great Unfaithful⯑neſs to neglect this Charge; for tho' they receive Wages, they are not below their Care, Nature having made no ſuch Di⯑ſtinction, and Returns of Kindneſs and good Uſage are as much their Due to ſuch of them as deſerve it, as their Ser⯑vice is due to their Maſters when they require it. But leaving this Digreſſion, there are others ſo far from this Nice⯑neſs, that in their Diſcourſes they de⯑ſpiſe and mock at Religion, becauſe they would not be under the Reſtraints of it; Religion is againſt them, and therefore they ſet themſelves againſt Re⯑ligion; and it is obſervable, that thoſe who upon other Subjects their beſt Friends muſt needs acknowledge to be ſufficiently dull, yet can talk very wit⯑tily in derogation of Religion, with ſome kind of ſalt and ſmartneſs; and becauſe Religion frets them, it makes them wynch and fling, and gives them ſome kind of Wit and Sharpneſs in rallying againſt it. Theſe are Perſons that ne⯑ver ſay any Thing well, but what is ill to ſay; and therefore we muſt be very careful to diſtinguiſh between what ex⯑acts the Title of Wit from our Judg⯑ments, and that which appears but ſuch to our Corruptions: This prophane Li⯑berty [35] is too much us'd in our Nation, and hath croſſed thoſe Seas which en⯑viron England, which is not ſo happily ſever'd from the World's Vices, as from its Continent: But I wonder how ſuch Men ſhould have the Fortune to be e⯑ſteemed Wits, only for Jeſting out of the common Road, and for making bold to ſcoff at thoſe Things, which ought to be reverenced of all Mankind; But we are fallen into ſuch a prophane and ſceptical an Age, as takes a Pleaſure and Pride in unravelling almoſt all the received Principles of Religion.

However, we muſt not think the worſe of Religion, becauſe ſome Men are ſo bold as to deſpiſe and deride it; for it is no Diſparagement for any Per⯑ſon or Thing to be Laughed at, but to deſerve to be ſo; there being nothing ſo excellent but a Man may find Ways to traduce it, and therefore we ought not to have the leſs Reverence for the Principles of Religion, becauſe idle and prophane Perſons can break Jeſts upon them, for a little Wit with a great deal of ill Nature will eaſily furniſh a Man for Satyre; there being nothing ſo Sa⯑cred, which by the petulancy of Wit, may not be made ridiculous; and thoſe Buffoons which do ſo, ſpare neither [36] their Souls nor Reputation to ſhew their Abilities, by prophane more than inge⯑nious Sallies: But it were happy if Men would uſe a nobler Exerciſe for their Wits, than to perſiſt in their ſcoffing Humour, which is not only an Enemy to Religion, but to every Thing elſe that is worthy; and yet we ſhall ſee ſome Men ſo prophane, as to make uſe of Scripture Phraſes to give a reliſh to their moſt inſipid Diſcourſes; and were it not for this Magazine, a great many Men's Raillery would want Supplies, and they would be very Mute without this Topick. In our Converſation, we ſhould carefully avoid the cuſtomary Sin of Swearing, which hath none of thoſe Allurements which other Sins have; ſuch Men play the Platonick to Damnation; and the great wonder is, that we ſee none who own God more in their Oaths, than thoſe that diſ-own him in their Lives; a great Abſurdity of Wicked⯑neſs, to have a God to Swear by, none to Believe in, none to Pray to. There is indeed ſuch a Deluge of Impiety and Prophaneſs at this Day overflowing our afflicted Nation, that it hath brought down moſt terrible Judgments upon it: Wickedneſs is now become the Mode and Faſhion amongſt them; ſo that Men [37] there begin now to fear the Singularity of being Innocent; and a Man may with leſs Scorn appear there in the an⯑tiquated Habit of our Forefathers, than to own the obſolete and condemned Qualities of true Piety, Loyalty, Duty and Sobriety; And what Temptation is it to the Vulgar to be Wicked, when their Superiors have beaten the Path before them: When Gentlemen are Atheiſtical, Clowns will think them⯑ſelves very modeſtly Wicked if they be but Prophane; and when they hear their Betters ſwear, they will ſoon find they are as well qualified for that part of Greatneſs as the beſt. It were very happy for our Nation, if thoſe Seducers of the People would ſound a Retreat to their miſ-led Followers, and would teach them Religion, Obedience, and Submiſſion, as they have formerly led them to Impiety and Diſobedience.

But to return to our intended Diſ⯑courſe; Gentlemen in their Converſa⯑tion ought never to reveal Secrets. Our Eyes, Tongues and Looks, are the Win⯑dows and Doors of our Hearts, we ſhould therefore be cautious to keep every thing from breaking out, which may be ſafelier hid than revealed. The Wits of futilous Perſons are like the [38] Veſſels of the Danaides, that emptied as faſt as they fill'd; that which comes in at the Ear, goes preſently out at the Mouth, becauſe Indiſcretion, which di⯑rects to hearken, as lightly as to Speak, lets fly out, as eaſily as lets in, and diſ⯑perſes as ſoon as collects. Theſe pub⯑liſh what they know, only that they may be telling of News, an itch where⯑with their Tongues are ſtrangely over⯑run, who can as well hold a glowing Coal in their Mouths, as keep any thing Secret which they think new, which is a moſt childiſh Vanity, and Men muſt have Souls of a very low level, that can think this a fit Entertainment: Theſe Men not having uſually Depth enough to ſupply themſelves out of their own Store, can therefore let nothing paſs by them, no more than a Mill, which is always going, cannot afford any Water to run waſte. Now theſe Men are more Impertinent, and not leſs Injurious than the moſt Malicious; Anacreon, who was choaked with a Grape-ſtone, died as ſurely as Julius Caeſar with his Three and twenty Wounds; and a Man's Re⯑putation is as ſoon fool'd and prated a⯑way, as maliciouſly Betray'd, nay per⯑haps more eaſily; for where the Speaker can leaſt be ſuſpected of Deſign, the [39] Hearer is the apter to give him Cre⯑dit; and this way of inſinuating, is like thoſe Poiſons taken in at the Pores, which are moſt inſenſibly ſucked in, and the moſt difficult to expel. Theſe Men are ſo perpetually Buſie, and con⯑tinually employ'd in finding Faults with others, that they cannot look towards themſelves; and whilſt they put falſe Dreſſes and Varniſhes to hide their own Deformity, they cannot allow the leaſt Imperfection of another's to remain un⯑detected. If theſe Men would look in⯑to their own Hearts, they would find ſuch work for their Inquiſitions and Cenſure, that they ſhould not be at leiſure to Ramble abroad for it: Now ſuch as Buſie themſelves with Tales of their Neighbours, and entertain Com⯑pany with them, furniſh their Wits, as young Girls do their Cloſets, with Shells and Gew-Gaws; and ſince they beſtow their Time ſo ill, they ſhould Study the Anatomy of Flies; and to puniſh their Bodies as well as their Minds, they ſhould live only upon Shrimps, where⯑in there is more Buſineſs than Meat: It is indeed a groſs Error to think (ſo we ſpeak in Truth) we may declare any Mans Faults, for we muſt as well ſpeak in Charity as Truth, and yet many Men [40] will ſlide eaſily into Detraction, think⯑ing it no great Matter, not conſidering the ſmalleſt Sins are the Devils greateſt Stratagems; and if Satan fetter us, it is indifferent to him, whether it be by a Cable, or by a Hair: St. Auguſtin therefore, who was ſenſible of the com⯑monneſs of this Vice, had this follow⯑ing Diſtick written over his Table.

The Truth is, we ſhould never in our Diſcourſes make abſent Perſons the Subject of our Mirth; thoſe Freedoms which we uſe to a Man's Face, are com⯑monly more moderate and equitable, becauſe we expoſe our ſelves to the like from him; but Backblows are diſinge⯑nious, ſhewing we intend not a fair Tryal of Wit, but a cowardly Murther of a Man's Fame: But ſome Men think their Wits to be a-ſleep, if they dart not out ſomething that is piquant, and pier⯑ceth to the Quick, but this Vein ought to be bridled. ‘Parce puer ſtimulis, & fortius utere loris.’ [41] There is great difference between Salt⯑neſs and Bitterneſs, and no Weapon cuts ſo deep as a reproachful Word, neither is any Wound longer in curing; And thoſe Jeers are moſt reſented which touch a Man's Reputation, chiefly that of Wit and Diſcretion, of which even Fools ſeem wary, and few will confeſs their Ignorance: The Reproaches of Wit are like the Corrodings of Aqua fortis, they ingrave and indent Chara⯑cters that can never be defaced; a dull Reproach quickly vaniſhes, no Perſon thinking it worth remembring, but when 'tis ſteel'd with Wit, it pierceth deep, leaving ſuch Impreſſions in the Fancies of the Hearers, that it ſometimes hap⯑pens to ſurvive both Speaker and Hearer, and carries it ſelf to Poſterity: Many a poor Man's Infirmities had been confin'd within a narrow Compaſs, had not ſome picquant ſtrain of Drollery ſcatter'd and diſperſt them; And therefore thoſe who rejoyce in Point of Reflection upon each other, that love to diſparage and backbite their Fellow-Creatures, and gratifie their proud and haughty Hu⯑mour in Deriſion of others, ſhould read thoſe excellent Verſes, which to this Purpoſe St. Proſper gives us in this fol⯑lowing Epigram:

Defamation is certainly one of the moſt unkind Deſigns that one Man can have upon another, every Man being naturally tender of his Reputation, which yields a Perfume even after Death, and a Man's Reputation can hardly be toſſed without receiving ſome Bruiſe; the hea⯑vy Scandals under which ſome Men have lain, having taken their Riſe only from ſome Inadvertence or Indiſcretion; and even doubtful Accuſations leave a Stain behind them, and often prove indelible Injuries to the Party accuſed: And as in the Caſe of Stealing, it is Proverbially ſaid, If there were no Receivers, there would be no Thieves; ſo in this of Slan⯑der, if there were fewer Spreaders, there would be fewer Forgers of Libels, the Manufacture would be diſcouraged, if it had not theſe Retailers to put off the Wares. A Man may ſometimes do Things which to God and his own Con⯑ſcience are abominable, and yet keep [43] his Reputation with Men, but when his ſecret Crimes are detected, then he becomes infamous; ſo that tho' his own Sin be the material Cauſe, yet the Diſ⯑covery is the formal Cauſe of his Infa⯑my; and he that hath divulg'd his Fault ſtands accountable for all the Conſe⯑quences that flow from that divulg⯑ing.

Some Men are maliciouſly apt to run down the Reputation of any that ſtand in their way either of Pleaſure or Pre⯑ferment: When Joſeph's Chaſtity had changed the Scene of Potiphar's Wife's Paſſion, ſhe preſently fixes the Crime upon him: So when Ziba had a Mind to undermine Mephiboſeth in his Eſtate, he firſt practiſes upon his Fame in a falſe Accuſation: And how often have we ſeen in our Time theſe Scenes re⯑acted; and tho' many Men have been Wicked enough to commit this Crime, yet none have been ſo Impudent as to avow it; all Crimes have had their Abettors, only this Sort of impudent and lying Slander is ſo much the Dregs and Refuſe of wicked Men, that none have yet had Chymiſtry enough to Sub⯑limate it, and to bring it into ſuch a Re⯑putation, that any Man would think fit to own it, till our laſt infamous Age of [44] inſulting Vice, where this Wickedneſs has not only been admitted into Pra⯑ctice, but appears alſo bare-faced, which did always before keep on the Vizard; for no Man had ever the Confidence before to own himſelf a falſe Accuſer of his Brethren, till that moſt wicked Age, which hath not only permitted, but encouraged and rewarded Men for being falſe Accuſers, to the eternal Re⯑proach of our Nation, and of them that ſuffered it.

Next to avoiding the Converſation of theſe foremention'd, we ſhould be cau⯑tious of Converſing with ſuch who Cenſure and Judge ſeverely of other Men's Actions, which is one of the higheſt Violations of Charity; and a good Man will never make ſevere Con⯑ſtructions, but ſet every Thing in the faireſt Light, and put upon it the moſt candid Interpretation that the Matter will bear, which is of great Importance to the Reputation of our Neighbour: For he that gives the firſt ill Character of a Man, fixes the Stamp, which ever after goes currant in the World, it being the Buſineſs of many to lay on more Load, but of few to take it off; for moſt People leſſen their own Beam into a Moat, and magnifie their Neighbour's [45] Moat into a Beam: They turn the re⯑verſe End of the Perſpective to repreſent their own Faults ſmall and at a diſtance, and ſhuffle the other End to their Neighbour, to make theirs ſeem great. Now ſuch as make bitter Invectives a⯑gainſt other Men's Faults, and indulge and palliate their own, ſhew their Zeal lies in their Spleen, and conſider not ſo much what is done, as who does it. A Man that affects an extraordinary Splendor of Reputation, is glad to find any Foiles to ſet him off, and will there⯑fore let no Fault nor Folly of another enjoy the Shade, but bring it into open Light, that by ſuch Compariſon his own Excellencies may appear the brigh⯑ter; But this ſhews a degenerous Spi⯑rit, and becauſe he wants ſolid Worth, on which to bottom his Reputation, he is feign to found it on the Ruins of other Mens. Diamonds ſparkle in the Sun-ſhine, 'tis but a Glow-worm Virtue that owes his Luſtre to the Darkneſs about it. Tacitus gives it as an ill In⯑clination of Domitian the Emperor's Temper, That he imploy'd himſelf in catching and tormenting Flies, and that he turn'd his Scepter into a Fly-flap, and was therefore juſtly eſteem'd an Enemy to Flies, and a Fly to his Ene⯑mies; [46] and truly they fall not under a much better Character, either for Wiſdom or good Nature, who ſnatch up all the fluttering Reports they can meet with to the Prejudice of their Neighbour.

Whoſoever hath a tender Side, the World will be ſure to find it, and to put the worſt Colour on all that Man ſays or does, give an Aggravation to every Thing that may leſſen him, and a ſpight⯑ful Turn to every Thing that may re⯑commend him; But that Wit is much miſemploy'd, that is wholly directed to diſcern the Faults of others, when it is neceſſary to be uſed to mend and pre⯑vent his own: When we do not fre⯑quently turn our Eyes inward, to ſee what is amiſs within us, it is a ſign we have an unwelcome Proſpect at home, when we care not to look upon it, but rather ſeek our own Conſolation in the Faults of thoſe we Converſe with.

Indeed, ſome Men's Tempers are ſo malign, that they wiſh Ill to all, and be⯑lieve Ill of all Men, like Timon the Athe⯑nian, who profeſt himſelf an univerſal Man-Hater: 'Tis certain there are ſome, in whoſe Ears nothing ſounds ſo harſh as the Commendation of another, and nothing ſo melodious to them as a De⯑famation. Plutarch gives an apt Inſtance [47] of this upon Ariſtides's Baniſhment. When a mean Perſon had propos'd O⯑ſtraciſme, being asked, What Diſplea⯑ſure Ariſtides had done, he reply'd, None, and that he knew him not, but that it griev'd him to the Heart, to hear every one call him a Juſt Man. I verily believe ſome of our keeneſt Ac⯑cuſers in theſe Days might give the ſame Anſwer; for no Man that is eminent either for Piety, Loyalty, or Moral Vir⯑tue, but he ſhall have many invidious Eyes upon him, watching for his Halt⯑ing; and if any the leaſt Obliquity be eſpied, he is uſed worſe than the vileſt Malefactor, for ſuch are try'd but at one Bar, but theſe are arraigned in all Com⯑panies and in all Diſcourſes.

Next to raſh Cenſurers, Flatterers are moſt dangerous, who may be compar'd to Flies that have pretty ſhining Wings for two or three hot Months, but the leaſt cold Weather makes an end of them; or rather like the Heliotrope, open only towards the Sun, but ſhut and con⯑tract themſelves at Night. Let the Ob⯑ject of their Adoration be but eclipſed, they can ſee none of thoſe Excellencies which before dazzled their Eyes, and their old Idol is often made a Sacrifice to their new, and all malicious Diſco⯑very [48] is made of their falling Friend, to make an Intereſt in their riſing one. There are ſuch Crowds of Examples of this Kind in our Age and moſt un⯑happy Kingdom, that it is fitter to fur⯑niſh Precedents for the future, than to borrow any of the paſt Times.

This is certainly the moſt horrid Crime that could be committed, and the black⯑eſt Colour wherein we can view a Para⯑ſite; and as an Ape hath a peculiar De⯑formity above other Brutes, by that awkard and ungraceful Reſemblance he has to a Man; ſo a Flatterer is infinite⯑ly more hateful, for being the ugly Coun⯑terfeit of a Friend. A Pretence of Friend⯑ſhip and Kindneſs is now become the general Bait to all baſe Projects, all the woolfiſh Deſigns that have been lately acted upon our Engliſh Stage, have walked under this Sheeps Cloathing; and as the World goes, Men have more need to beware of thoſe who call them⯑ſelves Friends, than thoſe who own themſelves Enemies, becauſe the one traiterouſly Betrays you, whilſt you ex⯑pect no better from the other.

It was heretofore the Character given of the Engliſh, by an ingenious Perſon, That they were both excellently En⯑dowed, and rarely tempered by God [49] and Nature, and were the moſt piouſly affected of all others; and that there were not in the whole World either better Catholicks or better Proteſtants; that there was no Nation under Heaven more remote from ill Nature and Re⯑venge, nor Men who were more ho⯑neſtly and even more naturally Juſt, nor ſo far diſtant from uſing baſe Treachery of every Kind. But, alas, the Race is now ſpoiled by mixture, and we are no more what we were, every one endea⯑vouring to Deceive and Delude each other; and that Freedom and good Na⯑ture, (which was thought peculiar to England) which is a kind of Balſom to the whole Life of Man, (and without which Life is no better than a Puniſh⯑ment, both to others, and moſt of all to a Man's ſelf) is baniſhed out of our Na⯑tion, and thoſe Flowers of Virtue, which were thought to grow no where elſe but in our Iſland, are now degenerated into Weeds of Flattery, Treachery, and Un⯑dermining: Now the Suppreſſion of this Vice depends upon thoſe Perſons to whom it is addreſſed; let but Princes entertain ſuch Paraſites with a ſevere Brow, and with ſharp Expreſſions of Diſlike, theſe Leeches will immediate⯑ly fall off. In Sparta, when all Laws [50] againſt Theft prov'd ineffectual, at laſt they fixed the Penalty upon them that were robbed, and that did the Buſineſs; and if it were made amongſt us as in⯑famous to be Flatter'd, as it is to Flat⯑ter, I believe it might have the ſame Effect.

Plutarch gives an excellent Exam⯑ple of a Man that could not be perſua⯑ded to Flatter, in the Perſon of Phi⯑loxenus, who being a good Poet, and deſpiſing ſome dull Poetry of Dionyſius the Tyrant, he was by him condemned to the Quarries; where having been for ſome Time, he was by the Mediation of Friends recalled; and at his firſt Ap⯑pearance, Dionyſius ſhew'd him ſome other of his Verſes, which he thought his Maſter-Piece; which, as ſoon as Philoxenus had read, he made no Re⯑ply, but call'd to the Guards to carry him back again to the Quarries; a brave Example of a Heathen Poet, who pre⯑ferr'd a corporal Slavery before a mental.

As it is a great Part of Wiſdom not to be flatter'd, ſo it is to paſs by the Reproaches of others: Herein we ſhould imitate Socrates, who being informed of ſome derogating Speeches one had uſed of him behind his Back, made on⯑ly this Reply, Let him Beat me too, [51] when I am abſent, I care not [...] How⯑ever, it is good to ſhun the Company of thoſe who take Pleaſure in expoſing others to Contempt and Deriſion, as one would avoid the Heels of a Horſe that Kicks every one he can reach.

It is the height of Incivility to abuſe Perſons in Diſcourſe; to abuſe Inferiors argues a mean contemptible Spirit, Su⯑periors is dangerous; to abuſe a Friend is to loſe him; a Stranger, to loſe your ſelf in his and the World's Eſteem: We ſhould therefore endeavour to keep a fair Reputation with all Perſons, with Superiors 'tis good to be humble and complaiſant, not low and flattering, with Equals grave not moroſe, with Inferiors courteous and fair, not ſullen nor impe⯑tuous.

'Tis an indiſcreet Thing for a Man in Company to take Exceptions; and if he have any Defect in his Perſon, which he ſuſpects Men are apt to make Deriſion of, 'tis a Folly to vex himſelf or quarrel at it; but the beſt way to prevent others in their Scoffs of this kind, is, firſt to ſpeak, and let them know as much as they can tell him; and then he ought with a manly Courage, to contemn, as unconcerned, the Indiſcretions and Fol⯑lies of others: It is no ſign a Man is [52] ſound, who complains becauſe one touches him. In my younger Days, I knew an old merry Droll, who much frequented Company, who having in his Youth taken a great Liberty to rally upon married Perſons, in his declining Age took a Wife, where every one might have had her for his Money; and the firſt Treatment of any Friend in his Converſation, was ſtill the Diſcourſe of his own Marriage, to prevent all that could be ſaid againſt him.

And as we ſhould not be troubled when others tell us of our Imperfections, ſo on the other hand we ſhould never Praiſe our ſelves: It is a great Blemiſh for a Man to be the Trumpet of his own Excellencies; he who puts a mo⯑deſt Rate upon his own Deſerts, does beſt multiply his Fame, but he that ſpeaks in his own Commendations, does as if he meant to Sell himſelf. And if the moſt accompliſh'd would but ſeriouſly conſider his own Imperfections, how many Things he wants, and how few he knows, and thoſe how lamely, he would make uſe of his Reaſon and Diſ⯑courſe, not for Commendation of him⯑ſelf, but to gain Inſtruction from others. Such Men's Company is very trouble⯑ſome, who are only accuſtomed to the [53] Admiration of themſelves, thinking no⯑thing beſides them worthy of Regard; if theſe unbred Minds were made ac⯑quainted with thoſe Excellencies which God hath beſtow'd on other Men, they would not think themſelves like Gideon's Fleece, to have ſucked up all the Dew of Heaven; they would find perhaps they rather anſwer'd the other Part of the Miracle, and are drier than their Neigh⯑bours: And if ſuch will needs be re⯑flecting on themſelves, let them com⯑pare their Crop of Weeds and Nettles with that of their Corn, and then they muſt either think their Ground is Poor, or themſelves very ill Husbands.

Now the way to Profit by Converſa⯑tion muſt come from our ſelves, our Queſtion is the Fire, that draws out ei⯑ther the Quinteſſence or the Dreggs of Things; and therefore the uſefulleſt Part of Diſcourſe is to give Occaſion by ask⯑ing Queſtions, by intermingling our Diſ⯑courſes with Tales, with Reaſons, and telling of Opinions, it being a Teſtimo⯑ny of as much Knowledge, to ask a pertinent Queſtion, as to give a perti⯑nent Anſwer: But herein a great Re⯑gard is to be had in what Company we do it, for great Men love not to be asked Queſtions, unleſs where Queſtions [54] may pull out the Thread of their own Praiſes: He that in Diſcourſe queſtions much, ſhall undoubtedly learn much, if he apply his Queſtions to the Skill of the Perſons with whom he Diſcourſes, and put them upon thoſe Things they underſtand beſt; for thereby he ſhall do them a Kindneſs, in giving them Occa⯑ſion to pleaſe themſelves in Speaking, becauſe every one loves to Speak of that wherein he is moſt expert, and himſelf ſhall continually gather Knowledge, by fetching from every one the beſt that is in him; for when Men are reduced to Speak of thoſe Things wherein they are moſt converſant and skillful, the con⯑verſing with them is an excellent School: But we ſhall commonly ſee Men take the contrary Courſe, chuſing rather to Diſcourſe of any other Profeſſion than their own, ſuppoſing it to be ſo much new Reputation gotten; but this way a Man ſhall never come to Perfection: As for Tales, to tell a Story well, to continue it in a handſome Method, cloathing it with ſuitable Expreſſions without Impertinencies, and to repre⯑ſent therein Perſons and Things to the Life, is one of the beſt, and perhaps one of the hardeſt Parts of Converſa⯑tion. The late King Charles II. my [55] Maſter, of Glorious Memory, had a moſt particular Talent of this Kind, and was wonderful pleaſant in Converſation; and us'd, very frequently ſoon after his Reſtauration, to have his private Sallies in the Winter-Evenings, to divert him⯑ſelf with ſome particular Perſons of Wit, whom he ſtill choſe to Sup with him, where I had the Honour divers Times, by his Majeſty's Command, to wait up⯑on him at Supper; (for he would then have none of the Grooms of his Bed⯑chamber with him.) In theſe Divertiſe⯑ments the King permitted thoſe who Supped with him to make uſe of their Wits in telling ſome pleaſant Stories, and in quick and handſom Repartees, wherein the King had an excellent Vein, and would as well take as give without Offence; which Liberty was always us'd with great Reſpect by thoſe who had the Honour to Sup with him; which were uſually, (Hannibal Seſted, baſe Bro⯑ther to the then King of Denmark) the Duke of Ormond, the Lords Carling⯑ford, Wentworth, and Crofts, with Sir Frederick Cornwallis, Sir John Mynnis, and ſometimes Tom Killigrew. In theſe Converſations, I have heard excellent Diſcourſes, witty Repartees, mingled with pleaſant Tales, wherein the King [56] had ſo great a Faculty, that ſcarce any Thing could be ſaid, which he would not Parallel with ſome pleaſant modern Story, which He would tell with ſuch Grace and Quickneſs as charm'd all the Company; but when he found them warmd with Wine, and that their Wits began to be piquant and ſharp, and to Sting each other, the King would always then interpoſe his Royal Authority, and would ſtroak over the ſevere Nips they gave each other, by throwing Duſt up⯑on them, telling them, Good Jeſts ought to bite like Lambs, not Dogs; to Tickle, not Wound: Wherein his Majeſty ſhew'd great Prudence, for we have ſeen in our Days many Examples of the Miſ⯑chiefs that have hapned by too ſevere Railleries; in ſuch Fencings Jeſt hath prov'd Earneſt, and Florets have been turn'd to Swords, and not only the Friendſhip, but the Men have fallen a Sacrifice to the Jeſt: 'Tis ſure we ſhall die in Earneſt, and it will not become us always to live in Jeſt; But the Gift of Raillery in this Age hath devoured the more ſolid Qualifications, and is accounted the greateſt Accompliſhment; a ſtrange inverted Eſtimate, to prefer the little Ebullitions of Wit before ſolid Reaſon and Judgment; if theſe Men [57] ſhould accommodate their Diet at the ſame Rate, they ſhould eat the Husk rather than the Peaſe, and feed upon Froth and Bubbles.

There is nothing more becoming a Gentleman than a Cheerfulneſs in Con⯑verſation, every Thing being by ſo much the more lively and cheerful, as it comes nearer to its Creation, and nothing hath more light and ſprightfulneſs in it, than an ingenious converſable Integri⯑ty: Virtue is the Mind's conſtant Health, the Pulſe of it ſtill beats true and even⯑ly; ſhe is ſprightly without Levity, free without Diſcompoſure, and converſable without Coyneſs or Cheapneſs, as free from Stupidity as Lightneſs, from being a Log as a Squib. Beſides, a Vivacity of Spirit is uſually accompanied with ſuch a kind of Wit as makes us accept⯑able in Converſation: Cheerful Perſons being graceful in all they do, are moſt valuable in Company; For who had not rather aſſociate himſelf with a Merry conceited Humour, than with a Cynical Wiſe Man? Many Men indeed blame Mirth becauſe they cannot endure it; which is to blame the Sun, becauſe Owls cannot endure the Brightneſs of it; as if we ſhould Quarrel with Light, be⯑cauſe our weak Eyes are dazzled with its Beams.

[58]There are ſome Men whoſe Diſpoſi⯑tions lead them to faſten and feed on Miſeries, and to glide over the Plea⯑ſures of this Life; which puts me in Mind of what paſſed betwixt Diogenes the Cynick, and Ariſtippus the Cour⯑tier, who paſſing by Diogenes as he was at Dinner in his Tub, Diogenes ſaid to him, If you could content your ſelf, as I do, with Bread and Garlick, you would not be the King of Syracuſe his Slave: And you, reply'd Ariſtippus, if you knew how to live with Princes, you would not make ſuch bad Cheer. 'Tis true, this moroſe and pedantick Philoſophy is not deſigned for a Gentleman, they are born to be Sociable, and ought to underſtand all the Maxims of the World; Com⯑plaiſant Humours, aſſiſted with this practical Knowledge, gain the Friend⯑ſhip of all People, becauſe they know how to ſet forth gracefully the Ta⯑lents of Nature.

There is no Means ſo powerful and appoſite to divert the fixed and intent Cares of the Mind, and to exhilerate a ſorrowful Heart, as pleaſant Company and Muſick, which mollifyeth our Minds, and ſtays the tempeſtuous Affections of it, if there be any Dregs of Cares that lie lurking in our Thoughts, moſt power⯑fully [59] it wipes them all away. They ſay, Alexander one Day excited by the Mu⯑ſick of a Harp, took Arms, and plaid the Part of a Common Soldier David himſelf charm'd the Evil Spirit in the Body of his Father-in-Law, by the Sweetneſs of his Harmony; and we daily ſee the Terror of Death cannot ſo much affright Soldiers, as the Sound of Drums and Trumpets does animate them; the Singing of the Nurſe makes the Child quiet; which evidently demonſtrates the powerful Effects of it in Nature it ſelf; and the very Labouring Men find Satis⯑faction in it, who Sing in their Work; and without doubt, the Voice perſuades and inſtructs much more than Reading, the firſt being accompanied with certain Spirits which we may call Living, the other is nothing but the Pourtraicture of the Thoughts of a Dead Man.

Sir Thomas More in his Ʋtopia, makes Muſick an Appendix to every Meal; and Epictetus eſteems a Table without it to be no better than a Manger: Lewis XI. ſays Comines, at the Inter⯑view betwixt him and Edward IV. of England, invited him to come to Paris, and told him as a great Part of his En⯑tertainment, that he ſhould hear moſt ſweet Voices, exquiſite Muſick, and ſhould not [60] want the Company of fine Ladies, and the Cardinal of Bourbon to be his Con⯑feſſor; which he thought ſufficient En⯑dearments to ſuch a ſenſual Prince as Edward IV.

Indeed, innocent Mirth and pleaſant Company whet out Wits, quicken our Fancies, and make us afterwards more fit for any Employment: A merry Heart is the life of the Fleſh, ſays Solomon, and Gladneſs prolongs his Days; and is high⯑ly uſeful, when 'tis only our Divertiſe⯑ment, not our Buſineſs; but the exceſs of it is very ill-becoming, and to ſet our Wits on the Tenter-hooks for ſo ſlight a Purpoſe, is abominable: But merry Hu⯑mours, tho' they have a great Pleaſant⯑neſs in them, are obnoxious to many, becauſe if Jeſts (wherein they are moſt converſant) be well receiv'd by ſome, yet they offend more than they pleaſe, and create more Enemies than Friends: For tho' Points of Wit be very fine in Diſcourſe, yet if they be made ſo ſharp as to draw Blood, thoſe that uſe them may have Occaſion to repent of them. 'Tis true, flaſhes of Wit give us a plea⯑ſant Light, ſo long as they burn not; but this Liberty muſt be bounded with Caution; for Wit ſhould rather ſerve for a Buckler to defend by a handſome [61] Reply, than a Sword to wound others, tho' with never ſo facetious a Reproach: In theſe Rencounters therefore the Charge ſhould be Powder and not Bul⯑lets; and we muſt take heed, that we paſs not from this familiar Freedom of Drollery, which cauſes Mirth, to ſevere Scoffing, which provokes Scorn, en⯑dangers Quarrels, and gives an Umbrage of a ſpiteful Intent.

This pleaſant kind of Wit is a Talent uſually given to Youth to play withal, and it is a pretty Gift to begin the World with, if they underſtand the right Uſe of it; otherwiſe it is an unruly Engine, wildly Striking, ſometimes a Friend, and not ſeldom the Engineer himſelf. Sharp Speeches therefore which fly a⯑broad like Darts, are to be tenderly us'd; for tho' they be Shot at others, they are many Times thrown back upon them⯑ſelves: As when the Earl of Rutland, who had been inſtrumental in the Pre⯑ferment of Sir Thomas More to be Lord Chancellor of England, and thinking the Chancellor did not ſhew him that Re⯑ſpect he merited, meeting him acciden⯑tally, he told him in Reproach, Honores mutant Mores, alluding to his Name; which the Lord Chancellor ſharply re⯑turn'd upon him, telling him, It was [62] not true in Latin, but in Engliſh, That Honours changed Manners, which was the Lord Rutland's Sirname. Thus we ſhall ſee ſome Men's Wits whip Oppoſi⯑tion, and manifeſt the Quickneſs of their Dexterity in the Shapneſs of their Re⯑turns, (like the Artiſans Weapon, that makes his Enemies Arms his Enemies Deſtruction) and by a nimble Repartee, turns the Words ſpoken upon the Speaker himſelf. There is much Pleaſure in this kind of Wit, there being no ſuch Stil⯑latory as a quick Brain, which refines and makes uſe of whatſoever comes with⯑in the Pan for its Reception. But thoſe Gentlemen who have this Satyrical Vein, and make others afraid of their Wit, had need be afraid of other Men's Me⯑mories; for many times, after they have given others Occaſion to Laugh, they are made themſelves to Cry.

The Rules to be given herein, are carefully to obſerve Times, Circum⯑ſtances, and Perſons, knowing when to Jeſt, and when not; to uſe apt and hand⯑ſome Repartees, natural and not affe⯑cted, that have more Salt than Gall, ſpeaking what is juſt and proper upon every Occaſion, which is better than fine Conceits, which yet are liked, if they be good; but Equivocations, Quib⯑bling [63] with Words, and Puns, which have only the appearance of Wit, are ridicu⯑lous, and yet theſe have brought ſome Men of very ordinary Parts into Cre⯑dit. There is as much difference be⯑tween Jeſts pick'd up here and there, and thoſe that come from the Spring-Head, as betwixt wiſe Diſcourſes, and harmonious Fooleries, between a ſolid Sufficiency, and what is painted; a Jeſt ſhould never be ſerv'd up but once, when 'tis Cold the Vigour and Strength of it is gone. Many refuſe to wear Buff becauſe 'tis laſting, and a Man of Wit will not Apparel his Brain in Du⯑rance. It is therefore pleaſant to min⯑gle Jeſt with Earneſt, for nothing pleaſes more than Variety; and it is a dull Piece of Service to tire any Thing too far: But as all Creatures by ſecret In⯑ſtigation love to be doing that in which they are moſt able, ſo theſe Men of Wit being delighted to hear themſelves Talk, cannot contain themſelves within a Mean, nor have Patience ſometimes to be Silent, ſo that we may juſtly won⯑der ſuch abſurd Perſons ſhould ſpeak ſo well: Now there are ſome Limits wherein theſe kind of Wits ought to be circumſcrib'd, there being certain Perſons and Things priviledged from [64] Jeſting, as Religion, Matters of State, great Perſons, any Man's preſent Buſi⯑neſs of Importance, and any Caſe that deſerves Pity: To Play upon any Man's Unhappineſs or Deformity, is inhumane, and Men may be as oppreſſive by their Parts, as by their Power; and God did no more deſign the meaner Intellectuals of ſome for Triumphs to the Vanity of the more acute, than he did the Poſſeſſions of the leſs Powerful, as a Prey to the Avarice and Rapine of the Mighty; and it is a much greater Barbariſm to reproach a Man that wants the Gifts of Nature, than him that wants thoſe of Fortune; for a Beggar may have im⯑poveriſh'd himſelf by his own Fault, but in Natural Defects there is nothing to be charged, unleſs we will arraign that Providence which hath ſo diſpoſed: And thoſe whom God hath bleſſed with higher Degrees of Sagacity and Quick⯑neſs, ought not to look down upon others as Objects of their Contempt and Scorn, but rather of their Care and Pity, en⯑deavouring to ſecure them from thoſe Miſchiefs to which their Weakneſs may expoſe them, and their Folly ſhould nei⯑ther diſmount our Wiſdom, nor violate our own Integrity: But the World is grown to that paſs, that Men will rather [65] put ſtumbling Blocks in the way of the Blind, and pull away the Crutch from the Lame, that they may Sport them⯑ſelves to ſee them Tumble, ſuch a de⯑light we take in improving the Imper⯑fections of others, that it's become the great Excellency of this Age to be dextrous at it. But good Nature is willing to interpret Things to the beſt Senſe, to take Things by the right Handle, and will never go to the ri⯑gour of the Matter, nor break out at others Misfortunes; for to be touchy and peeviſh in diſcovering a Fault, to kindle like Gun-Powder at the leaſt Spark, is a ſign we are perfectly wrapt up in our own Intereſt, and that we have nothing of Sweetneſs or Balſom in our Blood. We muſt therefore en⯑deavour to ſweeten our Humour, and keep the Ferment down; and tho' the World be full of malicious Men, yet by this we ſhall diſappoint the Pleaſure of ill Nature, break the Force of an Af⯑front, and make the Injury fall upon us like Hail upon Tiles, rattle without Miſ⯑chief, and at laſt to tumble into Dirt.

To jeſt at Calamities, is a great ſign of ill Nature: When Caninius, a Con⯑ſul of Rome, died the ſame Day he was made Conſul, Cicero would needs put a [66] Jeſt upon that Accident, and ſaid, O vigilantiſſime Conſul ſub quo nimo pranſus eſt, nemo caenavit, nemo dormi⯑vit, magnum prodigium vidimus, Cani⯑nio Conſule, non ſenſimus ver, non eſta⯑tem, non autumnum: The State, ſaith he, hath had a vigilant Conſul of Ca⯑ninius, that never Slept in all his Con⯑ſulſhip. But this was juſtly thought a Fault in Cicero, for Calamities are not to be the Subject of Jeſts. I love Jeſts well, ſaid a Wiſe Man, but not the loſs of my Friend; and thoſe who loſe themſelves to ſhew their Wit, are much like Helio⯑dore Biſhop of Tricca in Theſſaly, who having wrote the Ethiopick Hiſtory ve⯑ry politely and elegantly, but withal ſomewhat looſely and wantonly, was thereupon ſummoned by a Provincial Synod, who told him, His Work did more endanger the Manners than profit the Wits of his Readers, as nouriſhing looſe and wanton Conceits in the Heads of Youth; and therefore they gave him his Choice, either to retract his Book, or leave his Biſhoprick; whereupon he rather choſe to reſign his Place in the Church, than to loſe the Reputation of his vain Wit. And every Age ſhews us remarkable Examples of this Kind; for Sharpneſs of Wit commonly carries [67] with it two ill Companions, Pride and Levity; ingenious Perſons miſcarrying in nothing more than in too much plea⯑ſing themſelves in the Goodneſs of their own Conceits; where ſometimes the like befalls them, which hapned to Xeuxis the famous Painter, who having pictur'd to the Life an old Woman, ſo pleas'd himſelf in the Conceit of his Work, that he died with Laughing at it.

Being thus prepar'd with outward and inward Furniture for Converſation, it is neceſſary to conſider how and where to beſtow it; for he that is provident of his Time, will be alſo Prudent in the Choice of his Company, and Choice of his Actions, leaſt the firſt engage him in Vanity, and the latter by being Cri⯑minal, in throwing himſelf and his Time away.

This World is link'd together by Love, and Men by Converſation; and one of the g [...]eateſt Pleaſures we enjoy herein, (if duly weighed) is the ſweet Society of Friends and Relations, which multi⯑plies our Joys and divides our Griefs; there being no ſtricter Union upon Earth, than that of a virtuous Friend⯑ſhip; and nothing can be more Satiſ⯑factory than to Improve and Benefit [68] that Perſon who is thus become a Part of us.

Men of Quality love to deck and em⯑belliſh the Place where their inhabit, and Friends dwell in each other, and therefore cannot but be delighted in beautifying and adorning thoſe Minds they have thus choſen to live in, by purging them from all Foulneſs, and rendring them as ſplendid and illuſtrious as is poſſible, and certainly there is no⯑thing more raviſhing than a Friendſhip thus entertain'd: That Calamities at⯑tend it as well as Comforts, is but a weak Objection; for what Goodneſs is there without Temptations, and what Happineſs in this World not to be tranſ⯑form'd: It is the Gracefulneſs of every Thing that makes it valued; Gold, whilſt it is in the Mine, is good for no⯑thing; when 'tis cut and beaten into the thinneſs of Leaf-Gold, 'tis waſted and blown away, and quickly comes to no⯑thing; but when it is tempered with ſuch an Allay, as it may receive a Stamp and Impreſſion, then it is Currant and Uſeful.

Thus Cynical Men, who out of Pride of their own Parts diſdain Company, and can no more endure Converſation than Owls the Day-Light, like Gold in [69] the Bowels of the Earth, their Parts are uſeleſs and good for nothing, who cannot without Offence walk the Pub⯑lick Ways; they are Saints indeed in private, and live only to God and to themſelves; but being call'd forth into common Life, they are like Bats in the Sun, and utterly ignorant of Publick Affairs. And the Converſation and Friendſhip of thoſe whoſe End is only Civility and mutual Viſits, like Leaf-Gold they are blown away with every little Wind of Diſtaſte, or Neglect of Ceremony; and in an equal Degree to theſe are they to be reckon'd, who are Amici inter prandium & ſartaginem, ad oſtium tabernae fratres & amici, ad oſti⯑um carceris neque fratres neque amici: But the uſeful and profitable Converſa⯑tions which give a right Stamp and Im⯑preſſion to our Minds, are thoſe Friends that will be Supporters to us in our Pro⯑ſperities, Safeguards in our Difficulties, Counſellors in our Doubts, and Comforts in our Adverſities. With theſe we ought to contract a ſtrict Acquaintance and Inwardneſs, and to embrace their Com⯑pany upon all fitting Opportunities, uſing herein a wiſe Moderation, which carries with it both an Honour and Grace of Manners; for to ſeek Com⯑pany [70] and to fly it, are two Extreams to be blamed; to ſhun all Company argues a Contempt of others, and makes us generally hated; and to ſeek too much after them, is a ſign of Idleneſs in our ſelves, and makes us ſlighted: We muſt love our Neighbours as our ſelves; and to ſhew that we love them, we muſt not avoid their Company; and to ſhew that we love our ſelves, we muſt ſometimes be alone, and take Pleaſure in our ſelves. The Italians have a very ſignificant Pro⯑verb, which ſays, Meaſure it a hundred Times before you cut it off; meaning you ſhould ſtand upon your Guard, till you diſcover the Inclinations of thoſe you converſe with, and therefore we ſhould be careful of laying out our Friendſhip too laviſhly at firſt, ſince like other Things it will be ſo much the ſooner ſpent: Neither ſhould it be of too quick a Growth, for the Plants which ſhoot up too faſt, are not of that Continuance as thoſe which take more Time for it: We ſhall ſee ſome who have hot and cold Fits of Friendſhip, that ſhall hug you one Day, and not know you the next; this Unevenneſs of Temper is by all Means to be avoided in Converſation; a good Man will always keep a ſteddy Courſe of Friendſhip, which may run [71] like a ſmooth Stream, and never change, but be a perpetual Spring; for we can⯑not find the Guſt and Reliſh of a true and fixed Converſation, till we come to a great Freedom with each other; for they that converſe only as Strangers, are always under ſome Reſtraints and Uneaſineſs, and do never open them⯑ſelves freely the one to the other.

In the long Experience I have had in the World, I have ſeldom, if ever, found any Man's Company worth enjoying, that did not begin with ſome Difficulty, if not Prejudice; for Converſation, like Oyſters, is nothing the better for open⯑ing ſo eaſie, and ſo ſoon. Neither is there any more dangerous Acquaintance, than that over-haſty Familiarity contra⯑cted betwixt good Fellows, as we call them in England, who uſually begin their Friendſhip in the Entry, and ſtrike it up in the Cellar, where Servants are diſci⯑plin'd to be the Miniſters of their Ma⯑ſters Luxuries, whoſe Vices ſeldom miſs to be taken up by them, as if they were the Badges to witneſs to whom they be⯑longed. There is no greater Mark nor Diſcovery of a Man, than to judge him by the Company he keeps, it being im⯑poſſible but that he ſhall much reſemble them, and partake ſome of their Qua⯑lities. [72] Si juxta claudum habites, ſub claudicare diſces, ſays Plutarch: Bad Company is very contagious to the wiſeſt and beſt ſettled Men. What befel Jo⯑ſeph was out of Contagion, frequent⯑ing the Egytian Court learnt him to Swear by the Life of Pharoah. Dum ſpectant oculi laeſos, laeduntur & ipſi, Multaque corporibus tranſitione nocent. I remember Ariſtotle in his Problems makes a Queſtion, Why Health does not infect as well as Sickneſs, a diſeaſed Per⯑ſon often communicating his Infirmity, never his Health; the Reaſon is, ſays he, becauſe the Health of the Body hath no tranſient Force on others, and is per⯑ſonal and not communicative. But Mal⯑vezzi tell us, it is, for that Nature in Providence drives away the Evil from it ſelf, and thriftily reſerves that which is Good; and for this Reaſon it is, ſays he, that thoſe who have the Plague are deſirous to come into Company, that they may give it to others; and by the ſame Reaſon, thoſe who have ill Qualities in them, will be ſure to work and apply their Vices, like Ruſt, into the neareſt and pureſt Mind.

Edward II. of England was a ſad Ex⯑ample hereof; for his alter idem, his great Favourite Gaveſton, was a Man of [73] excellent Parts of Body, and of no leſs Endowments of Mind, being both va⯑liant and witty; and if his Valour could as well have made the King valiant, as his Riot made him riotous, there might have come ſome Good of their extra⯑ordinary Conjunction; but ſeeing Vir⯑tues are but perſonal, and Vice com⯑municative, it made the King not on⯑ly more Vicious than he would have been, but Vicious where otherwiſe in all Appearance he would not have been. The Conſideration of this moſt miſ⯑cheivous and dangerous Converſation, cauſed Seleucus to make a Law, where⯑in he forbad all Company with wicked Men. And Charondas the Lawgiver puniſhed thoſe for wicked, who frequen⯑ted Lewd Company. Neither was it a ſufficient Anſwer, which Antiſthenes gave, when he was told of his Conver⯑ſation with wicked Men, That Phyſi⯑cians live amongſt the Sick; for tho' they help ſick Men's Health, they ſure⯑ly impair their own, by continual viſi⯑ting and touching diſeaſed Perſons: But yet this muſt be favourably under⯑ſtood; for there is no Rank or Quality of Perſons ſo abſolutely excluded from our Converſation, but only ſuch a De⯑gree of ill Company, as may Poiſon and [74] Corrupt the Good; for in nearer than Company, our Friend, and in ſome⯑what nearer than him, our ſelves, we muſt allow ſome Inordinaries, and ma⯑ny Grains of Allowance muſt be given to make the beſt of us Currant: There may be likewiſe Occaſion ſometimes of converſing with ill Men, not for Socie⯑ty, but Buſineſs, and for Reformation, as our Saviour converſt with Publicans and Sinners. And therefore no Man is ſo tied up, as to come in no Company but good Men; for he that cannot live amongſt the wicked, muſt ſeek for a⯑nother kind of World than this, and for more perfect Creatures than Mor⯑tals: It was not ill ſaid of the Philo⯑ſopher, Omnes odit qui malos odit: He that hates ill Men hates all Men: And if a Man will love none but honeſt Men, where will he find any Exerciſe, any Object of his Love? If a Man will hold Friendſhip with none, do Offices of Society to none but good-natur'd and ſociable Men, he will leave many neceſſary Buſineſſes undone: The fro⯑wardeſt and perverſeſt Man may be good for ſome particular Occaſion; a crooked Piece of Timber is not thrown aſide, 'tis good for ſome Uſes; the very Fleſh of a Viper is made an Antidote, be⯑ing [75] mingled with other Simples and In⯑gredients, and by good Company and kind Uſage many an ill Man is better'd. And ſince a Magiſtrate ceaſes not to be a Magiſtrate for being an ill Man, much leſs does a Man ceaſe to be a Man, and ſo to have Title to thoſe Duties of Con⯑verſation and Buſineſs which are rooted in Nature, becauſe he is of an ill Diſpo⯑ſition. It is indeed a great Part of Wiſdom to contract Friendſhip and In⯑wardneſs with none but good Men, that ſo by our Intimacy with them we may participate of their Goodneſs; for Men are not like Bees, whoſe Sweetneſs makes Things of another Nature Sweet, it muſt be good we receive, and then per⯑haps we ſhall make it better, but if ill, we make it worſe.

Some Naturaliſts ſay, there is a way of Caſtration in cutting off the Ears, that there are certain Veins behind the Ears, which if cut, cauſe Barrenneſs; our Ears are the Aqueducts of Know⯑ledge, and if we cut thoſe, that is, in⯑termit our Converſation with good and wiſe Men, this will prove a Caſtration to our Underſtanding. The Advantages we receive hereby was well intimated, in that which Socrates ſaid to Eſchines, who ſeeing every Body give Socrates [76] ſomething, he ſaid, Becauſe I have no⯑thing elſe to give thee, I will give thee my ſelf: Do ſo, ſays Socrates, and I will give thee back again to thy ſelf, better than when I receiv'd thee: And certainly the Converſation of well-diſ⯑poſed Men, who have moſt look'd into the Affairs of the World, and have ſtu⯑died Men as well as Buſineſs, is a great Improvement of our Underſtanding, and Fortifier of our Judgment, eſpecially if they be Men of Years, Experience, and Virtue, and fam'd for Wiſdom, for their Teſtimony is of greater Force, and ſome⯑thing is always to be learn'd from them. For where Wiſdom holds with Age, and Memory hath not unthriftily ſpent her Comings in upon Time, their Con⯑verſation is certainly the wiſeſt Book; there is only one Fault accompanies them, their great and unwearied Deſire of Talking, which ſeems troubleſome to many that hear them; yet I muſt con⯑feſs, in my younger Days, I have ever heard ſuch with Delight, and did at all Times moſt joyfully accept what they deliver'd, who are of all others moſt a⯑ble to inſtruct Youth; and ſurely there is much Reverence owing that Age, which deſerves a fatherly Reſpect and Honour from us.

[77]A Gentleman in Converſation ſhould be Affable, not Imperious, knowing Hu⯑manity and Gentleneſs is a common Debt to Mankind, and therefore will not contract his Civility into ſo narrow a Compaſs, that it ſhall ſwell into Com⯑pliments to them above him, and not ſuffer one Drop to deſcend on thoſe be⯑neath him, but will ſo diſpoſe its Streams that all Channels may be fill'd with it: But ſome Gentlemen, like the Phariſee, think they are not like other Men, and having mounted themſelves aloft, look down upon all below them, as little and contemptible creeping Things of the Earth; not conſidering that the diſtance betwixt noble and mean Men, is only valuable, as a Defence againſt baſe and ignoble Practices, true Greatneſs con⯑ſiſting in deſpiſing not the Perſons, but the Errors of the Vulgar.

It is great Prudence in Gentlemen to aſſociate themſelves, as near as may be, with Perſons of their own Rank and Quality; for in ſuch kind of Friendſhips well choſen, conſiſts the Fruit and Uti⯑lity of Converſation.

To keep Company with great Men is very dangerous; and he that ſoars in ſo high a Sphear, runs the hazard of Ica⯑rus; for if great Men love his Com⯑pany, [78] it is either for their Pleaſure, be⯑cauſe he hath Wit, and tickles their Fancy, or he hath Parts which they make uſe of for their own Advantage; and it is common with them, never to quit or advance ſuch Perſons, but ſtill feed them with Hopes, that their De⯑pendance may be wholly upon them; and when ſuch great Men die or are diſgraced, their Fall is the Ruin of their Dependants. My Lord Chancellor Ba⯑con wittily reſembles ſuch (who have Intimacy with and Dependance upon great Men) to Faſting Days, which ſtand next to Holy Days, but other⯑wiſe are the Leaneſt Days in the Year. The wiſe Hiſtorian tells us, Nunquam ſecura cum potente ſocietas. The Dan⯑ger of ſuch Acquaintance is well repre⯑ſented in the Fable of the Lion, the Fox, and the Aſs, who keeping Com⯑pany together, they went one Day a Hunting, where the Lion having taken a great Prey, he bid the Aſs divide the Spoil, who put all into three equal Por⯑tions, which ſo much offended the Lion, that he immediately kill'd the Aſs and devour'd him, and then commanded the Fox to divide, who put all into one great Heap, and ſet by a little Morſel for himſelf; and being asked by the [79] Lion, How he knew ſo wiſely to divide, anſwer'd well, The Fortune of my Bro⯑ther Aſs hath taught me: And if I had as well underſtood the Moral of this Fable when I learnt it at School, as I did afterwards by dear-bought Experience, I had not ſtood ſo long in the Aſs's Place; but ſero ſapiunt Phryges.

Now there are ſome Men ſo far from this Humour, that they always keep Company with mean Perſons, and thoſe below them; whereas there can be no true Friendſhip, but betwixt Equals: And therefore wiſe Men will not only avoid converſing with ſuch who are much Superior, but alſo with thoſe who are much Inferior, not only in Degree, but in Parts, for tanti eris aliis quanti tibi fueris; and that our Thoughts and Deſigns will be ſuch as our Companions are, and low Fortunes breed many times degenerous Purpoſes, and he that makes himſelf an Aſs, invites others to ride him; and it is a very mean Ambition to be the beſt in the Company, it be⯑ing an experienced Truth, That he who deſires always to be the beſt Man in the Company he keeps, ſhall ſoon be⯑come the worſt of any Company he comes into.

[80]And yet this Converſation, tho' bad, is not ſo dangerous as keeping Company with Fools, Folly being no good Tutor to teach Wiſdom; neither can a wiſe Man contract Friendſhip with a Fool, their Qualities being ſo far different: For when any Man is taken with ano⯑ther's Converſation, it is a great Argu⯑ment that they are both of the ſame Sen⯑timents, but a Fool ſerves for nothing, but ſometimes to divert an ingenious Man, and no other uſe can be made of him.

But thoſe who love Multitudes are in worſe Danger than in keeping Company with Fools; for ſuch live in a Crowd, and a Herd is not Company; the very ſmell of them offends a wiſe Man, and where the Crowd of Men is, there is the Crowd of ill Cuſtoms; and ſince 'tis hard to avoid Temptations when they come ſingle, How ſhall we eſcape them when they come upon us in a full Body? How can we think of any thing but Ill, when we ſee nothing that's Good? Young Gentlemen who are newly come into the World with great Fortunes and ill Breeding, ſeek great Meetings, and Sin for Company to gain Experience. And therefore 'tis no wonder they are entangled in Debts, and made a Prey [81] to Cheaters, and embroiled in Quar⯑rels, ſo long as they frequent ſuch Con⯑verſation. It was in ſuch kind of Com⯑pany I conceive Seneca meant, when he ſaid, He never went amongſt Men but he came home a worſe Man that he went out.

Amongſt wiſe Men, the principal End of Company is Conference, and Con⯑ference to be better'd by is not uſually met with in Crowds, where Men meet not like Bees to make Honey, but like Waſps, who love to feed in Dung; in ſuch Company you ſhall hear Men ſpeak neither honeſtly nor temperately, Slan⯑der or Flattery ingroſſing all their Diſ⯑courſe, ſo that no Man can be better'd by their Converſation, the chattering of Magpyes being better Muſick than a Conſort of ſuch ſenſeleſs Perſons; nay, a Deſart is to be preferr'd before ſuch de⯑bauch'd Companions, for the wildneſs of the Place is but unchearful, whilſt the wildneſs of Lewd Perſons is infe⯑ctious.

Beſides theſe, there is another Con⯑verſation, which is that of Women; and tho' young Gentlemen are general⯑ly pleas'd to think this a very innocent Diverſion, yet none is more dangerous, eſ⯑pecially as to the Woman's Part, and proves [82] often a more pernicious Calamity than that which thruſts Men into Hoſpitals; Such Men as ſpend their whole Time, like Sardanapalus, amongſt Women, and yet pretend Chaſtity, are ridiculous.

If theſe hear of a beautiful Woman, what Contrivances and Deſigns do they lay firſt to ſee her, and then to corrupt her, and make it their great Buſineſs, as well as Trade, for their Agents and Factors to ſpring ſuch Game; and upon theſe Occaſions, thoſe will liberally Sa⯑crifice all their Time, of which, when any charitable Office would borrow from them ſome Minutes, they are then ſuch buſie Perſons, they can by no Means afford it; but to go in queſt of ſuch Game, to have the Company of Women is their only Delight and Paſtime: But Ladies muſt take heed of ſuch dange⯑rous Converſation; and eſpecially by how much the more lively they are, they are the more liable to be hurt, as the fineſt Plants are the ſooneſt Nipt by the Froſt.

The World is a dangerous Stage for Women, where Virtue alone will not defend them, unleſs join'd with much Prudence; they muſt have both for their Guard, and not ſtir without them, and all little enough, for the Enemy being [83] abroad, they are ſure to be taken if they be ſtraggling. Their Behaviour there⯑fore muſt ever incline ſtrongly towards the reſerved Part, the deceitfulneſs of the Age we live in having made this Caution highly neceſſary: For tho' moſt Men ſeem indeed Plantonick Lovers, and ſo at firſt as humble Gallants they are only admitted for Trophies, yet they very often become Conquerors, and from Admirers grow into Maſters. Beſides, the World is not ſo great a Fool, as not very well to know, that frequent Viſits made to handſom Wo⯑men ſoon grow Suſpicious, ſince we know all Men are pleas'd with what is Handſome: Stimulus carnis, is a na⯑tural Vice in all Men, and Luſt is no way better reſtrain'd, than by keeping far from ſuch Creatures.

He that will avoid committing Sin, muſt ſhun the Occaſions; for the beſt Philoſopher cannot make me believe, but that every Man naturally is pleas'd with a ſavory Morſel: And they that make Profeſſion of not ſtaining their Reputa⯑tion with Spots of Uncleanneſs, ought to ſhun all that allures thereunto; for it is not only a great Peice of Folly, but an infinite Raſhneſs worthy to be puniſhed, to make Gun-Powder in a [84] Smith's Shop, with Hopes to make People believe there is no Danger in it.

Some learned Phyſicians affirm, and Anatomiſts do alſo tell us, When a Wo⯑man bears Twins, if they be both of the ſame Sex, they are enwrapped in one Film, but if of different, wiſe Nature parts them; And if Nature thinks not fit to lodge a Brother and Siſter toge⯑ther in ſo tender an Age, this certainly teaches us, that Perſons of different Sexes cannot live ſafely together; and thoſe who relie upon their Strength and Vir⯑tue, in ſuch Occaſions, are certainly more Raſh than Wiſe: And thoſe young Ladies who promiſe to themſelves ne⯑ver to go ſo far, as to be gain'd, nor to admit any but indifferent Favours, ſuch as Civility allows; and after having gi⯑ven Way to more than they ſhould, they find a Precipice, where they expected only Entertainment: And that Woman who will allow her ſelf to go to the ut⯑moſt Extremity of every Thing that is Lawful, is ſo very near going farther, that thoſe Gentlemen who lie at Watch, will begin to Count upon her: For Men are apt to turn every Thing that a Wo⯑man does to the hopeful Side; But yet few are ſo Impudent as to make an [85] Application, till they ſee ſomething which they are willing to take for an Encouragement.

And therefore it is much more honou⯑rable and ſafer for Women to prevent ſuch Forwardneſs, than to go about to cure it; nothing being with more Care to be avoided by them, than ſuch a kind of Civility, which may be miſtaken for an Invitation

I wiſh many imprudent Ladies had not found the Truth of this, Men often ſtealing from little Favours to greater, and ſtill carry on their Deſigns, till ma⯑ny Times they change their Intreaties into Threats, and their Softneſs into Violence; and then thoſe Women find too late, that true Simplicity is abuſed, when it deals with falſifyed; the fear of loſing their Reputation, after having given ſome Advantages which they ought not to have done, hath debauched ma⯑ny Women, and therefore they ought to be very cautious what Men they ad⯑mit into their Company, and of gran⯑ting the leaſt Civilities. For as the Sun ſhining upon a Looking-Glaſs melting the Quickſilver, preſently cauſes Spots; ſo if a young Gentleman do but look upon a beautiful Woman, a Flame of Love preſently ariſes: The ancient Phi⯑loſophers [86] knew this well, which made them preſcribe Abſence for the Reme⯑dy of Love, that Men ſhould not ſee their Miſtreſſes: But ſhe knew it bet⯑ter, who ſaid to her Lover, Diſcede, diſcede, a foculo meo, nam ſi te vel mi⯑nimè, igniculus meus afflaverit, ureris infimé. And what Propertius ſays is moſt true:

In the laſt Place, there are ſome Con⯑verſations which are neither good nor bad, profitable for nothing, but only Recreation, Men who ſeem as it were made for no other Purpoſe but to divert from ſerious Affairs: And ſince even Saints themſelves have had their Diver⯑tiſements, and that all Perſons are al⯑low'd ſome Breathing-time of humane Delight, we may therefore ſafely ſpare theſe Men that Leiſure, which is ſet a⯑part for our Converſation, and ſome⯑times lend our ſelves to them, that we may be the better enabled to return to our ſerious Employments.

Of Solitarineſs and Retirement.

THERE is nothing ſo Pre⯑judicial to Action, as to be always in Action; for the Mind, like the Body, is tired, by being always in one Poſture, to be too ſerious breaks it, to be too diverting looſens it; ſo that to unbend our Thoughts, when they are too much ſtretched by our Cares, is not more natural than neceſſary. The Eye ſees not the Objects touching it, but thoſe only remote, and the Underſtan⯑ding continually plunged in Affairs, is not ſo quick and piercing, as his, who ſometimes retires from Publick Employ⯑ments: Experience teaches us, that the Eye having loſt its quickneſs by much looking upon the Light, recovers its vigour again in the Dark; and as the moſt curious Gravers are obliged to look ſometimes upon green Flies, to recollect again their ſcatter'd Sight; ſo the Spi⯑rit, being weakned and diſtracted with variety of Affairs, ought to recover its Force in the Privacy of ſome ſmall Re⯑treat. [88] In the Heat and Tumult of Bu⯑ſineſs, Reaſon hath not Power to give Conduct to active Life, Man having but an imperfect Underſtanding without Me⯑ditation, and therefore as Bees muſt retire to the Honey, after they have gather'd the Matter from Flowers; ſo it is neceſſary, that we retire into our Selves, to gather the Fruit of our Ex⯑perience, otherwiſe we ſhall be but ill Husbands of the Wealth we have got⯑ten.

Indeed, the Fruit we gather from our many Days of Company is very little, we ſcatter much in Converſation, we gather but ſmall Profit; but for the few Hours we ſpend in Retirement and Re⯑collection the Return is very conſidera⯑ble, and the greater Portions of our Time we lay out this way, the more Treaſure we lay up for our Selves here⯑after. This inward Conſideration is a large and powerful Study, to ſuch as can ſeriouſly Taſte and Employ them⯑ſelves therein. It is the Nouriſhment and Life of our Spirit, and Nature hath favour'd it with this ſingular Privilege, that there is nothing we can do ſo long, neither is there any thing more eaſie, more natural, or more our own, than to meditate and entertain our Thoughts.

[89]Thus, as often as the Mind (inter⯑rupted in its Operation by external Ob⯑jects) would have the Body to be ſtill and quiet, it preſently betakes it ſelf to Retirement, when neither Wife nor Children, Kindred nor Buſineſs, nor whatſoever elſe can make any Trouble, are to be ſeen, all Things being exclu⯑ded that can diſturb: But ſince this ſo⯑litary Employment and Entertainment of our Selves, is either one of the beſt or the worſt Things we can undertake; it muſt not therefore be in Vanity, much leſs in any Thing that is Vicious, but in Study, in profound Knowledge, and in the diligent Culture of our Minds.

He that will withdraw himſelf, muſt firſt prepare to receive himſelf: It is not Wiſdom to let the Spleen govern us, to over-drive Nature is to draw a Blemiſh upon our Judgment; Men that retire ſhould firſt examine the Difficulty of the Enterprize, for without this preliminary Prudence, a Man may over-burthen his Shoulders, and ſoon wade out of Depth. And tho' Solitude promiſes fair, and is a ſtrong Engagement to a retired Perſon, yet it is to many better in Proſpect than in Poſſeſſion: It is a great Folly to truſt our ſelves if we cannot govern our ſelves, and he had need be very well aſſur'd of [90] himſelf, that falls into his own Hands, for it often happens, that none are more dangerous than our own; and therefore wiſely ſays the Spaniard, God keep me from my ſelf.

That Man is much miſtaken, who thinks Solitude a Sanctuary againſt all Vices: It is good againſt ſuch as pro⯑ceed from without us, but it hath its inward and ſpiritual Difficulties. And tho' the Devil be buſie in all Places, yet he takes Solitude to be his Ground of Advantage, from whence oft-times he plays his Batteries with moſt Succeſs. Thus we ſee he ventur'd to attack our Saviour himſelf, when he found him in the Wilderneſs, to ſhew it is moſt dan⯑gerous for thoſe to be alone that are not Maſters of themſelves; there being no Security from Danger by running away from the World, eſpecially if Melan⯑choly drives us to Solitude, which makes the Mind uneaſie, and ill Thoughts are no Foreign Commodity, but purely of our own Growth, which are moſt dan⯑gerous in Solitude; for many Men, who have well preſerv'd themſelves in Com⯑pany, have been loſt in Solitude. Lot was Chaſte even in the City of Sodom, yet defiled in his Cave. To an Impru⯑dent unadviſed Man Solitude is a dan⯑gerous [91] Staff; and it's to be fear'd, that whilſt he Walks alone, he entertains more and worſe Company than himſelf, Mens Vices many times giving them the Taſte of Solitude, making them ſo much ſhun Company and ſeek the more Elbow-Room. For a Man may as well fail a⯑lone as in Company, there are ways for it, until ſuch time that he hath fram'd himſelf ſuch, as to become Sibi Thea⯑trum, that he ſo much reſpects his Rea⯑ſon and fears his Conſcience, that he cannot without Shame ſtumble or trip in their Preſence, that he dare not halt before himſelf, but bears a kind of Re⯑verence and Reſpect unto himſelf, which next to Religion is the chiefeſt Bridle againſt all Vice. Cicero in this Caſe gives an excellent Direction, Obſerven⯑tur ſpecies honeſtae animo: Let honeſt Ideas ſtill repreſent themſelves before our Mind. Let us, ſays Seneca, repre⯑ſent Cato, Phocion, and Ariſtides, to our Imagination, (in whoſe Preſence even Fools would hide their Faults) and eſtabliſh them as Comptrollers of all our Actions.

It is certainly a rare Thing, Ʋt ſatis ſe quiſque vereatur; That every Man ſhould ſufficiently ſtand in Awe of him⯑ſelf: We ſhould win ſo much upon our [92] ſelves, as to be able in good Earneſt, and willingly to be left alone, to quit the World if need be, to dwell and de⯑light in our ſelves: We muſt break thoſe Bonds aſunder that faſten and bind us to each other; and not ſo tie our ſelves to the Things of this World, that our Felicity depend upon them, but reſerve a Store-houſe for our ſelves, (what need ſoever happen) wherein we may ſecure and eſtabliſh our true Contentment and principal Retreat. This Store-houſe is a wiſe Man's Mind, which moves and turns within it ſelf, and is well conten⯑ted to keep it ſelf Company, and en⯑joy it ſelf: And when the World frowns upon us, and that we are barren of Em⯑ployments, we ought then to betake our ſelves to the ſecret Improver of Minds, Contemplation, thereby adorn⯑ing our Houſe within, and make it rea⯑dy, if for Gueſts that is for Buſineſs, and if they come not, 'tis no matter, it will be the better for us to live in. Thus we muſt bring home our Cogita⯑tions to our ſelves, that our Contentment may depend upon what is within us, nei⯑ther ſeeking nor diſdaining Employ⯑ment, but cheerfully go on either with or without it, with a calm and undi⯑ſturbed Mind. For this World is a [93] Comedy, where every Man acts that Part which Providence hath aſſigned him; and as it is eſteemed more Noble to look on than to act, ſo there is no ſecurer Box from which to behold it, than a ſafe Retreat, it being eaſier to feel than expreſs the Pleaſure that may be taken in ſtanding aloof off, and in contemplating the Reelings of the Mul⯑titude upon the Stage of this World.

There is no Counſel more proper for Men than the Philoſopher's, Tecum ha⯑bite, to dwell at Home, and not to ſuf⯑fer any Thing to ſteal us away from our ſelves; there is neither Profit nor Plea⯑ſure worth ſo much, that we ſhould go abroad to ſeek it. Even amongſt Pagans the wiſeſt look'd upon the Things of this World as Lumber rather than Furniture, as Things which they needed not, and retired within their own Breaſts, which they call'd their Home, there to enjoy Virtue their only Good: And many of the Epicurean Sect (who propos'd to themſelves no other End but their own Contentment) did bereave themſelves of all ſenſual Delights, and contemn'd the Glory and Pomp of all worldly Wealth and Greatneſs, for the only Pleaſure of Contemplation. But now a wiſe Chri⯑ſtian, that may within his own Breaſt [94] enjoy both Virtue and God himſelf, hath much higher Advantages, and more Reaſon to keep within that Home, and to look upon Things without with an indifferent Eye. That Man therefore forgets his Origin and his Dignity, that puts his Soul out of Poſſeſſion of her ſelf, by running perpetually after Hopes that fly from him; whereas he ſhould aban⯑don the Pleaſures of this Life, and bid adieu to all manner of Vanities, ſhun⯑ning all Paſſions that may any way im⯑peach the Tranquility either of Mind or Body, making God the only Object of his Contemplation: He that thus re⯑tires, draws no Man's Envy upon him, he reigns by himſelf, and all the Pomp which Greatneſs draws after it, is not compa⯑rable to that which he enjoys in Secret; for as that Man muſt needs be accounted moſt Happy, that is likeſt unto God; ſo Man's chiefeſt Happineſs muſt needs con⯑ſiſt in the Contemplation of his Divine Majeſty and of his Works. And indeed, nothing but the Supports of Religion, and a Spiritual Retreat, upon that ſole Account, can make a Man fit to enter⯑tain himſelf, withdrawing upon the Score of Religion. Thus to ſhut up the Pro⯑ſpect of this World, that we may take the better View of the other, is a pru⯑dent [95] Precaution: Thus we untwiſt our Affections, and ſlide off from the World, before the World ſlips from us; thus to retire is the beſt Improvement of Soli⯑tude, and to be thus Alone is the way to bring us to the moſt deſireable Com⯑pany.

To Retire for Quiet and Thinking is commendable, Amici fures Temporis, ſays the Lord Bacon. Converſation is a Thief that ſteals away a great Part of our Time, and uſually ſtuffs our Me⯑mory with Rubbiſh; Solitude is a great Relief in ſuch Caſes, and wiſe Men are glad to get clear of the Crowd for freſh Air and Breathing. It is not Noiſe and Flaſhes, Thunder and Lightning, that make fair Days, but it is the Sun's caſt⯑ing a clear and pleaſing Light, with gen⯑tle Gales; ſo a Life led in ſweet Tran⯑quillity (which is the work of Reaſon) is much preferable before all the great Succeſſes which the World admires, and which are nothing but the Extravagan⯑cies of Fortune: In Retirement, we taſte the Sweet of a quiet Repoſe, and enter⯑tain our ſelves with Freedom; nay, we live more in two Days of Retreat, and we are more ſenſible of what Life is, than in two Years full of Buſineſs and Trouble, and we ſee greater Things in [96] Retirement than abroad in the World: For what do we ſee great in the World, unleſs it be perhaps an Army, the Siege of a Town, or the Court of a Prince? We are quickly accuſtom'd to theſe, which only appear great to us at the firſt Sight. But in Retirement, we look up⯑on the different Works of Nature, the Sun riſing and ſetting, a ſtill Night, and thoſe Planets which ſo majeſtically Roul over our Heads, which we continually ad⯑mire. It is obſerv'd by learned Phyſi⯑cians, that thoſe who dwell fartheſt from the Sun, (if in any convenient Diſtance) have longer Life, better Appetites, Di⯑geſtion and Growth, than others who dwell not ſo remote from the Heats thereof; Such Advantages, and much greater, have their Minds, who are well removed from the Scorchings, the Daz⯑zlings and Exhalings of the World's Glory, into a private Retirement: Whereas thoſe who live in the Throng of Buſineſs and Company, their Minds loſe their Reſt and Tranquility, and many times after a Man hath loſt his Reſt, he loſeth his Labour alſo.

It is a great Miſery for a Man never to be his own; too much Acquaintance makes us Strangers to our ſelves; the more we converſe with Men, the leſs [97] we converſe with God, and the Con⯑tent which we may expect by our Con⯑verſation with Men, is loſt by too much Converſation. I know Society is one of thoſe Satisfactions which are reckon'd amongſt the Pleaſures of the firſt Mag⯑nitude in this Life; but when we con⯑ſider that the Advantage of Society con⯑ſiſts not in ſeeing each other, but in rational Converſation, it will appear, that Solitude is much more Satisfactory; for what Pleaſure can be receiv'd in talking of new Faſhions, of great Pur⯑chaſes, of Advancement or Ruin of Favourites, Victories, or Defeats of ſtranger Princes and Armies, ſome of which are the uſual Subject of ordinary Converſation; and in Courts and great Cities, Men neither ſeek nor find any other Divertiſement, than viſiting each other, reviewing their Habits, talking of new Faſhions, or of the Weather, or ſome ſuch pitiful Stuffs; and if Men diſcourſe upon more ſerious Subjects, they are ſure to be contradicted, which often cauſes Quarrels. Beſides, in theſe Rencoun⯑ters, Men are tempted to betray their Ignorance, or their Malice, in either of which they are eſteem'd Blockheads or Quarrelſom: And if we converſe with thoſe who ſpeak with more Addreſs than [98] our ſelves, we repine at our own Dul⯑neſs, and envy their Acuteneſs; and if we converſe with Duller than our ſelves, we are ſoon weary, and fret at our be⯑ing in ill Company: And if by chance we accompany our Equals, then we are upon our Guard, to catch all Ad⯑vantages, that we may be thought more knowing; and we are ſo intereſted in this Point of Honour, that ſuch Conver⯑ſation rather vexes than recreates, and many Perſons make themſelves cheap upon theſe Occaſions, whom we had highly valued if we had frequented them leſs.

That Man who dwells upon himſelf, and is always converſant with himſelf, reſts in his true and proper Center; and therefore he that hath learnt Wiſdom from the Folly of others, and the Miſ⯑carriages of his own Actions, will be content to ſee the Crowd afar off, and not any more thruſt into it, but retire within himſelf: It is true indeed, there is no Place but there are means in it to do Well or Ill; a Man may live a⯑lone in the Throng of a Palace, but if he may chuſe he will avoid the Sight of it: If need require, he will endure the Court, but if he may have his Li⯑berty, he will be alone; for Contagion [99] is catching in a Throng, and a Man muſt either imitate the Vicious or hate them, and both are dangerous: He that is care⯑ful to avoid Occaſions, ſtarves his Sin; thoſe are rare Men that can live in the midſt of Temptations and not fall: Ne⯑mo diu tutus periculo proximus, & quae licita, ſunt ritanda, propter vicinitatem illiciti.

We have never greater Cauſe to con⯑ſult our beſt Wits, what we are to do, and how we are to carry our ſelves, than when Preferment or Publick Employ⯑ments are offered us. It was no idle Que⯑ſtion asked by an eminent Man, Whe⯑ther if great Places or Employments were offered us, we ſhould refuſe or ad⯑mit them? wherein the divers Abilities of Men are to be conſidered: He that hath Strength and Wiſdom to manage ſuch Places may receive them; but he that would live quietly ought not to en⯑tangle himſelf with more than he can manage; let him try, Quid ferre recu⯑ſent, quid valeant humeri; the ſtrong and virtuous Man may poſſibly meet and encounter Temptations with Advantage, which the more cautelous will avoid; and in one of theſe two Ranks every good Man is found; and we may well compare them to Hannibal and Fabius, [100] the firſt always calling for Battle, the other evermore declining it.

There are indeed ſeveral Degrees of Solitude, and thoſe wiſely retire, who being harraſſed with the Fatigues of a Publick Life, foreſeeing ill Weather, are willing to put into Port, when keeping out at Sea might endanger the Veſſel: When the Winds go croſs, 'tis Pru⯑dence to furl the Sails: Thus that great Prince Charles V. when he found his Succeſs began to fail him, he preſent⯑ly withdrew.

To be able to check our Enemy, to encounter Occaſions, to act our Part upon the common Stage of this Life, and yet to keep our ſelves Upright, this is indeed truly to live; but to avoid Oc⯑caſions, to overcome the World by re⯑tiring from it, argues a wiſe, tho' in the World's Opinion, a weak and faint⯑ing Spirit, who think there is no greater Argument of Imperfection in a good Man, Quàm non poſſe pati ſolem, non multitudinem, not to be able to appear in Publick without Offence, and who can only live to God and himſelf, Ʋtilis ipſe ſibi, fortaſſis inutilis orbi: Tho' this indeed be the weaker Side, yet certainly it is the ſafer, rather than by an improvident Fool-hardineſs, to [101] thruſt our ſelves upon Occaſions, which we are unable to manage without Of⯑fence.

There is not amongſt Men a greater or more frequent Error committed than in this Kind; for in moſt Things of this World, Men that have no Skill in them, will be content to acknowledge their Ignorance, to give Place to better Ex⯑perience, and will adviſe and conſult with every one in their proper Myſtery; but let Offer be made of Places of Ho⯑nour, Money or Preferment, no Man will excuſe himſelf, or acknowledge his Ignorance or Weakneſs to manage them; whereas our Errors are no where ſo dan⯑gerous, as in the unskillful managing of theſe Things; and therefore it is better to be cautious and wary, than ſtrong and hardy: Malo cautior eſſe quam fortior, fortis ſaepe captus eſt, cautus rariſſimè: We read in Holy Scripture of a Race of Men ſo much greater in Bulk than or⯑dinary, that Men of common Size ſeem'd but as Graſhoppers to them; yet we find the little Men were always too hard for them, and drove them out; becauſe the Gyants depended upon the Opinion of their Strength and Hardineſs, the others upon their wary Wit and Policy; and it commonly happens ſo in this World, [102] and we ſhall find that far more have pe⯑riſhed by unadviſedly venturing upon the Things of this World, than by ſober and diſcreet Retiring.

But many Men over-rate themſelves, whoſe Expectations being great, when they are not careſs'd and humour'd in their Folly, they preſently grow chagrin and ſick of the World, and fall into a Fit of Retirement and Melancholy, and will keep no longer Company with any. Theſe Men, like Children when croſ⯑ſed, grow ſullen in a Corner; but he that thus ſhuns Company and retreats, re⯑tires only like a Beaſt to his Den.

We have ſeen many Examples, where Greatneſs hath ruin'd ſeveral Perſons, who liv'd with much Honour and Re⯑putation before. Nero, Tiberius, and ſome others, enjoy'd the Repute of No⯑ble Souls before their mounting the Im⯑perial Throne, which brought them new Vices with their Honours, and made them as much ſurpaſs others in their Debauches, as they did in their Power; ſo that Publick Employment is ſcarce to be wiſhed for, ſeeing Men are tempted thereby to commit the greateſt Crimes. Moſes, who was the Meekeſt of Men, whilſt he lived in the Wilderneſs; yet when Providence advanced him, he ſo [103] highly offended God, that all his for⯑mer Services could not obtain the Li⯑berty of his entring into the Land of Canaan.

And tho' at the Creation God found it not good for Man to be alone, and there⯑fore gave him a Companion; yet to ſhew the Hazard of being in Company, even Adam could not live one Day in it, and be Innocent; for the firſt News we hear of him after Eve was aſſociate with him, is, That he had forfeited his Native Purity.

When God intended to converſe with Moſes, he call'd him from the populous Camp to the Top of Mount Sinai; and Chriſt did not diſcloſe the Glories of his Transfiguration at Jeruſalem, but on the Top of the Mount of Olives: When God did diſcipline his beloved, yet rebellious People of Iſrael, he choſe firſt the Wilderneſs, then the two Cap⯑tivities to be his School.

Hiſtory tells us of many, who out of their Skill and Strength have given free Entertainment to the World, and have made large uſe of it, in all ways of Greatneſs and Expence, when their Time and Hour came, would rather have gone out of ſome poor Cottage, than out of a Princely Palace, and lived with no [104] Noiſe in the World, that ſo they might have died in Peace: Charles V. the Prince of Parma, and ſundry others, tho' they liv'd in all Pomp and State, yet at their Death they deſired to be buried in a Capuchin's Habit; and if they thought, to die in a State of perfect Se⯑queſtration from the World was ſo pre⯑cious, how much more available had it been to live in it? For thus to die, not having thus liv'd, is nothing elſe but to give Sentence againſt their own Life; for we ſhall not appear before God as we died, but as we liv'd; to profeſs Deſertion of the World at one's Death, as moſt do, is only to be buried in a Capuchin's Hood.

It was a notable Anſwer given by the Philoſopher to Pyrrhus, who when he told him, He would Conquer Greece, then Rome, and ſo all the World: Cy⯑neas ask'd him, Why he would give him⯑ſelf ſo much Trouble; to which Pyr⯑rhus anſwer'd, He would do it, that he might afterwards live happily and mer⯑rily with his Friends; but Cyneas re⯑ply'd ſharply, He might live ſo pre⯑ſently, and not take ſo much Pains for it.

[105]Men that are ſtill buſied in Publick Affairs, whoſe Mercurial Genius inclines them to a reſtleſs Life, they (like Moſes on Piſgah) ſee Retirement, their Land of Canaan afar off, but without Hopes of Enjoyment: And we have ſeen ſome great Men, who would never leave Em⯑ployments till outed of them, like Whales and other great Fiſhes that never come on Shoar till they are wounded, and then theſe Men have prais'd Retirement, not to ſatisfie their Reaſon, but their Re⯑venge; yet even this Proceeding of theirs commends Retirement, ſince even the diſtreſſed expect a Protection there, for Diſtreſs makes Men run where they may expect Help: And certainly thoſe, who after poſſeſſing great Places in Courts, have been unexpectedly diſgra⯑ced, will be more really convinced of its Slipperineſs, than ſuch as never found the Effects of ſo much Revolution: Nay, thoſe Men who ſeek greedily after Pub⯑lick Employments, pretend thereby a Deſign for Solitude. Thus Merchants ſeek about the World, that they may gain ſo much as may afford them the Conve⯑niency of a Retirement: And Soldiers have often nothing to ſweeten their An⯑xieties, but the remote Proſpect of ſome good Garriſon for a Retreat. And Caeſar [106] himſelf ſaid, Aliquando mihi licebit mi⯑hi vivere, He would have his ſpare Hours, eſteeming that Part of his Life to be⯑long to others, which was ſpent on other Men's Employments.

Now the wonder is, that the ſame Im⯑pulſe which hurries Men to deſire to be Great that they may be Maſters, ſhould not with far more Reaſon carry them to be Solitary, where they are free from thoſe Neceſſities, and have none to obey but God and Nature, Maſters who command us nothing but what were fit for us to do, tho' we were not com⯑manded.

This Conſideration hath made many Holy Fathers retire into Deſarts (where they ſcarce had any other Nouriſhment but their own Juice, nor any other Com⯑pany but God) that they might tend the Work of their Salvation without Di⯑ſturbance: There they did as it were deſcend into their Sepulchers by deep and holy Meditation; and from thoſe Hermitages inriched the Treaſure of the Church, with their Divine Works con⯑futing Gain-ſayers, and increaſing the Stock of Holy Learning.

But it hath not been unuſual for ſome Men to retire from the World, and yet look back at it, as Lot's Wife at Sodom, [107] and oftentimes to keep their Hearts in it: Thus did many of the Philoſophers who left the World in Effect, but not in Affection; for in their Retirements they had nothing but their Arms and Legs out of the Throng, their Minds and Intents were ſtill engaged, and they only went back that they might leap the better, and with a ſtronger Motion make a nimbler Offer again into the World: Theſe Men did not take the right way, they thought they had total⯑ly taken leave of all Buſineſs, that they might live at more Leiſure and greater Eaſe; but they miſtook themſelves, and only exchanged one Employment for another; for tho' they had ſhaken off the Court and Publick Employments, they had not taken leave of the principal Vexations of Life, nor had diſcharged themſelves nor their Minds of the Bur⯑thens which oppreſſed them; they had not ſo ordered it, that their Contentment de⯑pended wholly upon themſelves, and that they could live alone in good earneſt, and at Eaſe: However, Men may converſe with the World, and yet leave it; we may find Retiredneſs in the greateſt Ci⯑ties, we may paſs thro' a Crowd and not mingle with it; and we may enjoy our ſelves in a multitude of unknown Per⯑ſons, [108] as if they were the Perſonages of an Arras Hanging.

Every Ship that ſails muſt needs have ſome Part of the Ship under Water; every Man that lives in this World muſt have ſome of his Labours ſpent upon the World; but as that part of the Ship by which a Man ſails is above the Water, ſo that part of us which is above the Earth, we muſt remove it from the World. Thus ſome who have attain'd to that Sublimity of Mind, as to be a⯑bove all worldly Cares, tho' they med⯑dle with the World as being of the World, yet they do it ſo ſafely, that they cleave not to it, nor are aſtoniſhed to leave it.

Thus many great Men, after the Fruition of all Earthly Honours, have much preferr'd Solitude; As Snatocopias King of Bohemia, after the Loſs of a Battle againſt the Emperor Arnold, he retired into a Deſart, where having lived ſeveral Years with three poor Hermits, he at his Death told them, There was no Greatneſs preferrable to the Tran⯑quility of that Solitude he had injoy'd with them, which he eſteem'd as true Happineſs; whereas that Life he had led upon his Throne deſerv'd more the Title of Death than Life: And Simi⯑lis [109] a great General to the Emperor Adrian, after all his Honours and Pre⯑ferments, retir'd into the Country for ſeven Years before his Death, and caus'd this Epitaph to be written upon his Tomb: Here lies Similis of a very great Age, who yet lived but ſeven Years; rela⯑ting only to the Time of his Retire⯑ment.

It was nobly obſerv'd by that great Emperor Marcus Aurelius, who was alſo a Philoſopher, That a Weaver or a Cobler would willingly ſequeſter them⯑ſelves from all Company, that they might proſecute their ſeveral Trades; and yet Man cannot retire himſelf that he may admire the Creation, and exerciſe his own Soul, which is the great Trade of a rational Creature, and of a true Phi⯑loſopher: And ſince Gain can prevail ſo far with Men, as to make them re⯑nounce Society, and eſteem Company an idle Folly, why ſhould not we reflect upon the great Advantages of Retire⯑ment, both as to Morality and Devo⯑tion, which are much preferrable to thoſe Things which are in themſelves but Tri⯑fles if not Burthens. For certainly So⯑litude hath more Pleaſures in it, than any Publick Employment, for it drives us into Contemplation, which is ſo charm⯑ing, [110] that it may rather be ſaid to raviſh than pleaſe, committing ſo open a Rap⯑ture upon our Souls, that it puts them almoſt into a State of Separation.

Thus the old Hermits, Members of the Catholick Church, are often remar⯑ked for being as far tranſported out of themſelves, as they had formerly tran⯑ſported themſelves out of the World: And even amongſt the Heathens, we find Pythagoras almoſt diſtracted with the Satisfaction he conceiv'd in finding out his Demonſtrations: And Pliny was ſo delighted with the Pleaſure of con⯑templating the Rarities of the Moun⯑tain Veſuvius, as for farther Inquiry he approach'd ſo near, that he loſt himſelf in the Flames of it.

What Calmneſs and Contentment did Archimedes ſhew in the midſt of the Ruins of Syracuſe, being ſo pleas'd with his Demonſtration, and ſo buſie about his Knowledge and Contemplation, as he heard not the Noiſe and Clamours of the Enemy, and could not ſpare ſo much Time from his Intendment, as to ask Life from the rude Conquerors, when he was interrupted and kill'd by them. Here was a Tranquility which look'd gloriouſly thro' Danger and Death: It is not Pomp and ſhining Robes that [111] give Grace to the Body, but it is the Mind within the Body.

Socrates, that great Maſter of Breed⯑ing, tells us, That young Men ſhould be inſtructed, Men in the Flower of their Age exercis'd in well-doing; but old Men ſhould withdraw themſelves, and retire from all worldly Affairs: It being no leſs than highly neceſſary, that a ſpace of Time ſhould be interpos'd, between the Buſineſs of Life, and the Day of Death, that when they come to leave the World, they may have no⯑thing elſe to do but to Die. And who⯑ſoever hath laid up in his Mind where⯑with to entertain himſelf in the Shadow and Retirement of his Age, will look upon that temperate Climate of his Time as the moſt ſweetned and digeſted part of his whole Life, free from the Hurry⯑ings of all the other, he then treats him⯑ſelf with the beſt Company, that of his own Thoughts and Obſervations; and with the Philoſopher, when others are ſorry he is grown Old, he is only ſorry that he was ever Young. Indeed, when Decrepitneſs kills Experience, when Age acts the Prologue to Death, and draws the Curtains before our Senſes, it is then high time to give that Life leave to think only of Death, and to prepare for its [112] laſt Journey: For it is a Right and Ju⯑ſtice Men owe themſelves, who have given their moſt active and flouriſhing Age to the World, to give their declining Age to Solitude and Retirement, and ſince they have liv'd long enough for others, they ought to give the Remainder of their Lives to themſelves to call in theſe Thoughts and Intentions; and ſince God gives them leiſure to prepare for and order their Remove, they ought to make themſelves ready, to diſintangle themſelves from their worldly Engage⯑ments, and ſince they have hitherto liv'd Swimming and Floating, they ſhould come now, and Die in the Har⯑bour; it being but reaſonable for that Man to ſhake off Society that can bring nothing to it; he that cannot Lend, let him take heed of Borrowing; and when our Forces fail us, it is then a part of Prudence, as well as Safety, to retire. But for Men in the Strength of their Manly Vigour, that are endowed with publick Abilities, and excellent Orna⯑ments, the uſe whereof is only in So⯑ciety, for ſuch to retire for their Eaſe or Idleneſs, and to do good to none but themſelves, is very injurious to the Publick, and reſiſts not only Reaſon but Goodneſs, both which join in guid⯑ing [113] us to common Good. A Man of excellent Parts, who thus retires under Pretence of meditating, and leaves no Fruit of his Meditations to the World, is like the River of Jordan, whoſe fair and quick Water is loſt in the Lake of Sodom, call'd the Dead Sea. This is to Die living, to loſe the Quickneſs of the Mind in the Gulph of unprofitable Idle⯑neſs; it is indeed leaving the World in the worſe Senſe, for it is a forſaking Mankind, and denying to Society that Service and Duty which we owe it.

For if Men of Publick Employments and Profeſſions ſhould husband all their Time ſo thriftily, as not to give any Part thereof to Buſineſs, but beſtow it all in Retiredneſs, yet even thereby they would contract a Guiltineſs: As the Eagle were very unnatural, if (becauſe ſhe is able to do it) ſhe ſhould pearch a whole Day upon a Tree, ſtaring in Con⯑templation of the Glory and Majeſty of the Sun, and in the mean time let her young Eaglets ſtarve in their Neſt.

Both ancient and modern Hiſtories have furniſh'd us with Examples of ſome Kings, who have willingly reſigned their Kingdoms, and depoſed themſelves; but whether they did this meerly out of a Deſire to live retiredly, or to ſatisfie [114] their Sons being arrived at Years fitting to Rule, that ſo they might ſee the Suc⯑ceſſion ſettled in their own Blood, or to ſhun the Tumults of Rebellion, or out of Fear of ſome potent Enemy, or un⯑aptneſs of Government, are great Que⯑ſtions left as yet undecided in the World. But if any Prince hath done ſo gallant an Action, (which is ſo ſtrongly with⯑ſtood by human Nature) as to renounce a Kingdom, by Virtue of a Soul in⯑amoured of that Felicity which is injoy'd in a private Life, and that out of a well⯑diſpoſed Mind he preferr'd the Peace of Retirement before the Hazards and Trouble of Reigning, and that diveſted himſelf of his proſperous earthly Con⯑dition, purely that he might be Happy, that Prince was not only truly Wiſe, but was undoubtedly more bound to God for giving him that Power, and that Performance, than for making him a King. But that King who ſhrunk un⯑der the weight of Government, where Men ought to ſhew the greateſt Worth, or hath renounced his Kingdom out of Poorneſs of Spirit, that Prince is much to be blamed, for that the true Mode⯑ration of Soul is ſeen in gallantly under⯑going Caſes of Adverſity, and not in loſing a Man's ſelf in Proſperity.

[115]Indeed, Prudent Men, that know themſelves not able to withſtand the Temptations of the World, will wiſely and timely retire from it: Staggs, when they find themſelves too fat, are ſaid to retire for Safety to the Woods and Thickets, knowing that being burthen'd with their own Weight, they are not able to run if they ſhould be hunted; which, if true, ſhews a great Provi⯑dence in Nature. And if we ſeriouſly conſider, we ſhall find that Multitude and Abundance are far more troubleſom, than Solitarineſs and Want; in Abſti⯑nence, there is only need of one Duty, but in the conduct and uſe of many Things divers Duties are required. Thus the Calling of a King or Prelate, is far more difficult than that of a Monk or Hermit, and the Sociable Life is much harder than the Solitary, by how much it is more eaſie for a Man to live altogether without a Wife, than in all Points duly to live and maintain himſelf with her; and therefore Sir Thomas Overbury, a very ingenious Man, was us'd to ſay, That next to no Wife, a good Wife was beſt: For he that hath Wife and Children, Servants, Eſtate, and Buſineſs, hath without compariſon a more troubleſom Task, than he that [116] hath none of all theſe, and hath only to do with himſelf: Facilius eſt domi la⯑tere, quam foris ſe poſſe ſufficienter cu⯑ſtodire: And therefore Speculative ju⯑dicious Men do diſcreetly and piouſly, that leave the Employments of the World which require the whole Man, to give themſelves ſome Intervals to the Office of Men, as they are Men and Chri⯑ſtians.

Such Retreats as theſe are moſt com⯑mendable, where Men ſequeſter them⯑ſelves from the Troubles of the World, that they may the better vacare Deo & ſtudiis: For thus they do more good living out of the World than in it; Nei⯑ther do ſuch Men as theſe embrace So⯑litude out of meanneſs of Spirit, or for weakneſs of Parts, as not fit to attain Greatneſs, or not able to bear with the World, but they do it purely, that they may arrive at that Happineſs which is uſually injoy'd in a retired virtuous Life.

Hiſtory affords us many Examples of Men, who have known how to com⯑paſs the Prime Places and Supream Dig⯑nities both in Church and State, who have had the Acquiſition of Wealth and Greatneſs in their Power, tho' not in their Aim, and who have with much [117] Honour relinquiſh'd Riches to embrace Poverty, and to enjoy Solitarineſs and Retirement, having voluntarily left the moſt gainful and weighty Employments, and after a full Fruition of all earthly Happineſs and Pleaſure, have taken a ſolemn Leave of the World, whilſt yet Fortune ſmil'd upon them. A great Example in this kind, was Quintus Mu⯑tius Poſthumius, that Noble Roman, who having been taken from the Plow to be Conſul, after he had govern'd that People and conquer'd their Enemies, he return'd to his former Employment; and being ready to leave the Senate, he called for his Balance, and by put⯑ting the Faſces, the Mark of his Office or Authority in one Scale, and his Plow in the other, did let the Senators ſee, thoſe Imperial Enſigns were far the lighter, and ſo took his leave of the Senate, and return'd to his Plow. Such Men as theſe are truly Happy, who have left Cares and Troubles for Calmneſs and Quiet, they poſſeſs a Happineſs, which Kings can neither keep themſelves, nor ſuffer amongſt their Neighbours; Theſe are ſo far from complaining of the World, that they are content to for⯑get it, and are reſolved neither to have War nor Commerce with it, having [118] founded a Retreat to all their Paſſi⯑ons, as well the pleaſing, as the trou⯑bleſom.

But we ſhall find few Men that will be content to do this Thing ſeriouſly; ſudden Wiſhes and indeliberate Proffers and Attempts to renounce the World are but raſh Pangs of ſeeming Mortifi⯑cations. There are not many that will be content with a mean Eſtate, that will neglect Wealth and Abundance, and deſire God not to heap too much upon them, but to abate of his Portion: There are but few that will with Daniel refuſe the King's Delicacies, and feed upon Pulſe, and with the great St. Paul take Pleaſure in Neceſſities: Many in⯑deed will tell us, They are reſolved to quit the World both in Mind and Body, but Cuſtom is a Thing we often fall in⯑to by flying it, and we ſhall not unfre⯑quently hear Men ſwear they will not ſwear. I verily believe many of our Loyal Countrymen have had ſo ſad Experience of this World, and do ſo little deſire to learn that which they are ignorant of therein, that they would be very glad to forget what they already know of it, and do really wiſh they were like ſome of thoſe Hermits, that inquir'd how Cities were made, and what kind of [119] Thing a King or a Commonwealth was?

There is no Voice ſounds better in a ſober Man's Ears, than that which cry'd to Arſenius, Fuge, ſede, tace; which coun⯑ſels Men to give themſelves Satisfaction by their quiet retiring: Crede mihi qu bene latuit, bene vixit, ſaid a wiſe Man: But yet whereſoever we are, or in what Condition ſoever, (if we can but tell our ſelves what and where we would be) we may make any Place or State happy to us: For we are ſo compoſed, that if Abundance or Glory ſcorch or melt us, we have an earthly Cave (our Bodies) to go into by Conſideration, and cool our ſelves; and if we be frozen and contracted with lower and dark For⯑tunes, we have within us a Torch, a Soul brighter and warmer than any with⯑out, we are therefore our own Umbrel⯑la's, and our own Suns.

But as all Shadows are of one Colour, if we reſpect the Body from which they are caſt; ſo all Retirings into a ſhadowy Life, are alike from all Cauſes; only the Employments, and that up [...]n which we beſtow our Time, gives it the Tin⯑cture and the Beauty. Thus our Sha⯑dows upon Clay will be dirty, and in a Garden green and flowry; ſo in our [120] Retirements, if we only converſe with Earth, we ſhall be like it, that is, unlike our ſelves: But if we be ingaged in more refined and intellectual Entertain⯑ments, we ſhall be ſomething more than our ſelves, that is, than this narrow Cir⯑cumference of Earth ſpeaks us, the Soul being always like the Object of its De⯑light and Converſe; and therefore well ſays the Roman Orator, Erigimur & la⯑tiores fieri videmur, humana deſpicimus contemplantéſque ſupera & caeleſtia, haec noſtra ut exigua & minima contemnun⯑tur.

However, it is not enough to be on⯑ly ſeparated from the Converſe of Peo⯑ple; for tho' we have freed our ſelves from the Court and from the Market, yet we are not thereby free from the principal Torments of our Life; tho' we change Places never ſo often, yet may our Vices follow us even into im⯑mured Cloyſters: The hollow Rocks, the wearing Hair-Shirts, and continual Faſting, rid us not always from them, for a Holy Habit cleanſes not a foul Soul. And as Socrates being ask'd, Why one who had been long abroad, had not more improv'd himſelf by Travel, anſwer'd well, Becauſe he had not left himſelf behind him when he went to Travel: [121] So before a Man leaves the World, if he do not firſt diſcharge both himſelf and his Mind from the Burthen that preſſes her, Retiring will but ſtir it the more, and preſs it the harder, as a ſick Man takes more Hurt than good by changing Place: It is but ſettling an Evil inſtead of removing it, and if we caſt back a kind Look upon what we have left behind, we ſtill carry our Fet⯑ters along with us, and are not at Li⯑berty. We ought therefore firſt to re⯑cover our ſelves from our ſelves, for without managing our Superior Part, all the Pains taken about the Inferior is to no purpoſe: And he that only chan⯑ges his Cloth of Gold for a Monk's Habit, and his Point de Venice for a Demy Collar, ſhall without doubt be a Loſer by the Bargain: It is indeed no ſuch eaſie Matter, as many Men believe, to make a ſafe Retreat from the World, to truſs up our Baggage, and bid our Company farewel; this is a Burthen which few Men can take up handſome⯑ly: For a Man to anticipate the Acci⯑dents of Fortune, to deprive himſelf of his preſent Advantages, is an Action of extream Difficulty, as well as of an ex⯑traordinary Virtue.

[122]But tho' the doing theſe Things ſeem very ſevere to our worldly Imaginations, and to thoſe who never had Experience in themſelves of this nobleſt Operation of the Soul; yet doth this retiring pro⯑duce ſo great Effects, and carries with it ſuch ſpiritual Charms and Delights, that ſhould good Fortune her ſelf come in Perſon to find them out, who are thus withdrawn, to invite them again into the World, yet would they ſhut their Doors againſt her; and tho' ſhe ſhould tell her Name, ſhe ſhould not be admitted. The Religious retir'd Man is an inverted Pyramid, Earth hath but the leaſt Point of it; A Soul that dwells in Heaven will not dabble in this im⯑pure Mud, or ſtoop to be a Copartner in the Delights of the Creatures, that have nothing but Beaſt in them; and tho' it be neceſſitated by its relation to Fleſh to a terreſtial Converſe, yet it is like the Sun without contaminating its Beams.

Thus Religious Perſons, when they come abroad into the World, partake not of any worldly Humour, they can ſafely look upon the Throng, and (more truly than Socrates at the Olympian Games) give God thanks, that he hath made them not to need thoſe many [123] Things which others ſo vainly and vio⯑lently purſue: Their rais'd Contempla⯑tions inlarge and ennoble their Spirits, and infinitely advance them above the ordinary Level; Such Souls as theſe (that were only lent the Earth, to ſhew the World their Folly in admiring it) poſſeſs Delights, which in a manner an⯑tidate Immortality, and (tho' at an hum⯑ble diſtance) reſemble the Joys above, they receiving here ſome Anticipations of immortal Delights, as Pledges of their eternal Rewards; for there want not Examples of ſome, who have had their Souls elevated to ſuch a height of intel⯑lectual Contemplation, that God hath made them as it were, in ſome meaſure, Patterns of the Happineſs of the Life to come, which he hath ſometimes vouchſafed to ſhew us here below, to make us in Love with the Piece above in Heaven.

This Divine Contemplation is, pro⯑mus & condus coeli & ſitula gratiae; it opens to us all the Treaſures of Heaven; This remedies all our Sorrows, ſettles and compoſes all our Diſtractions, and raviſhes our Spirits with unſpeakable De⯑lights; to which purpoſe St. Francis de Sales ſays moſt Divinely; We ſee the Re⯑ſtraints which Religious Perſons put up⯑on [124] themſelves, we diſcern their outward Bitterneſs, but we are not able to appre⯑hend their inward Sweetneſs and De⯑light; the very Fire and Flames were to the Martyrs, Flowers and Perfumes.

How injurious a Scandal is it there⯑fore, which we are apt to caſt upon Re⯑ligious Perſons, repreſenting them with angry and ſtoical Countenances, and de⯑faming them with melancholy and un⯑ſociable Humours, believing Retirement to be a State, wherein the Soul contracts a Ruſt, which cankers its own Sub⯑ſtance, and makes it unpleaſant to others; Whereas our Saviour aſſures us, there is no Life ſo pleaſant and happy; and tho' he himſelf is ſaid never to have Laugh⯑ed, yet his Countenance is ſaid ever to have been Smiling, and in full Condemna⯑tion of moroſe Humours, it was prophe⯑ſied of him, Quod non eſſet triſtis in his Converſation.

It is indeed an ill way of judging, That Men cannot have Piety in their Hearts without Auſterity in their Looks, (a Virtue ſtuck with Briſtles is too rough, when adorn'd with Flowers it will be willingly entertain'd) a cloudy diſcon⯑tented Face is not the only, or beſt ſign of Devotion, very merry Men have been very holy and devout Men: No [125] Man loves to ſee ſuch Religious, whoſe Thorns he is afraid will ſcratch him; for Chriſtian Philoſophy hath nothing in common with the Cynick; this diſ⯑guiſeth, the other reforms; the one compoſes the Countenance, the other regulates the Spirit; the truly Religious are Auſtere to none but themſelves, their Thorns prick no Body elſe; it be⯑ing a Vulgar Error to believe, that thoſe which retire with the greateſt Strictneſs ſhould not have their Diver⯑ſions; all the Hours of their Lives are not equally Serious, neither are all their Sayings, Sermons; it being a Right moſt proper to them of all others, to have this Olium laetitiae, this Balm of their Lives, this ſpiritual Alacrity, which does even dignifie their Service to God; For theſe ſeek it where it is to be found, and therefore we may be ſure they ga⯑ther it from the right Tree, it being the only Fruit of a good Conſcience; and ſince that is to them a continual Feaſt, there is no Reaſon but they ſhould be Merry at it: This is the Subſtance of all their Actions, and their conſtant Triumph, having this they want nothing, Quamvis ipſis nihil eſt, nihil deeſt: All their Treaſure lies in the Temple of [126] Wiſdom, which they do ſo well im⯑prove, that they become living Books to them that converſe with them, il⯑luſtrating their Minds without Preju⯑dice to their Sight, their Inſtructions having much more of Power and Life, than Reading can poſſibly be capable of.

Of St. MARY MAGDALEN's Life and Converſion; with ſome Reflections upon the Converſion of the Good Thief.

BEING in a Place and Sea⯑ſon where every Thing be⯑gins to Bud, I muſt do ſo too, and vent ſome of my Thoughts; tho' perhaps, as all other Buds are yet without Taſte or Virtue, theſe Lines may be alſo dull and inſipid; and tho' the Pleaſantneſs of the Seaſon invites me, it does not much pleaſe me, ſince I ſee every Thing refreſhes, but I wither and grow Older, but not Better, my Strength diminiſhes, and my Load grows heavier.

There are certain Rules for the Bo⯑dy's Infirmities, which if rightly obſerv'd will effect their Cure; but for the Di⯑ſeaſes of the Mind, there is no Rule, for our own Taſte and Apprehenſion, which ſhould be the Judge, is the Diſeaſe it ſelf.

[128]I am now no more tranſported with Jollity, and the love of Company, ha⯑ving at preſent Loads heavy at my Heels, which bring to my Thoughts my ill Fortune, my old Age, the Duties of a Man, of a Subject, of a Husband, of a Father, with all the Incumbrances of a numerous Family; theſe Thoughts de⯑ject me into Sadneſs and Melancholy, and from thence into a ſerious Contem⯑plation of the Troubles and Miſeries of this Mortal Life; which have farther in⯑duced me, in this Time of Solemn De⯑votion, to entertain my Thoughts upon ſome Divine Subject, the better to com⯑poſe my Mind and ſubmit my Will to the Orders of Divine Providence.

I know well, as no Beauty, ſo no Diſcourſe hath all Voices, even in the worſt Faces ſome Eyes ſee Features that pleaſe, in the beſt ſome others ſee Lines they like not; ſome out of Affection may Plat a Lawrel for that Head, on which others in their Opinion would beſtow a Thiſtle, which may perhaps be my Fate: However, I am not ambiti⯑ous to hang the Ivy-Garland at my Door, leaſt I ſhould ſeem like thoſe Hoſts that uſe to meet their Gueſts upon the Way, and promiſe before-hand a fair and ample Entertainment; Let it pleaſe my Reader [129] rather to ſee and allow his Cheer, and then according to his own Palate he may diſguſt or reliſh the Cookery.

I doubt not but many an accurate Quill on the Wing of Contemplation hath already taken a high Flight upon this Subject; my only Plea ſhall be, He that cannot Soar like the Eagle, may be allowed to Flutter like the Spar⯑row.

The Scripture is every where full of Variety, like a Garment of ſeveral Co⯑lours, and upon the ſame Loom of Ho⯑ly Writ, divers Workmen may accord⯑ing to their ſeveral Fancies draw out ſome curious Threds of Obſervation; and that Brain is very unhappy that meets not with ſome traverſe of Diſ⯑courſe more than it hath borrow'd from another's Pen; yet I will not contemn the Judgment of the Wiſe, nor refuſe to learn from any Inſtructor. I never read but of one fooliſh Cock that refu⯑ſed a Pearl tho' found on a Dunghill:

The laborious Bee is the Emblem of a working Brain, which Creature is ſet [130] before us for a Copy of Induſtry; it is not always droning upon one Flower, but throws her light aiery Body upon a ſecond, ſo to a third, till her Thighs are loaded with a large Collection. It is no leſs indeed than a wonder, that of almoſt the Shadow rather than the Sub⯑ſtance of ſo very ſmall a living Creature, Nature hath made ſo incomparable a Thing. I had rather imitate this labo⯑rious Inſect, than challenge to my ſelf Arachne's Motto, Mihi ſoli debeo. I had rather bind up in this Poſie, ſome choice Flowers, which I have here and there choſen and cull'd from the Gar⯑dens of ſeveral Authors, than boaſt my ſelf with that little Arabian, that I have eriſcerated my ſelf, and ſpun a Web out of my own Bowels.

Having therefore impoſed this Task upon my ſelf, and finding nothing more particularly deſcribed in the New Teſta⯑ment, than ſeveral remarkable Paſſages of the happy St. Mary Magdalen, I have thereupon thought fit to make her the principal Subject of this Diſcourſe, add⯑ing ſome Reflections upon the Conver⯑ſion of the Good Thief, and upon what happen'd to St. Mary Magdalen in the Phariſee's Houſe, what afterwards in her own, and her Siſter Martha's, and [131] what after Chriſt [...]s Death and Reſur⯑rection.

Who this Woman was is much con⯑troverted, and is ſooner queſtion'd than anſwer'd: I know ſuch Problematical Diſquiſitions, which have more Subtilty than Uſefulneſs, (as Eraſmus on this ve⯑ry Quaere ſays) are ſuperfluous; and of them we may ſay, as the Philoſopher did of the Athenian Shops, How many Things are here which we need not: And there⯑fore I ſhall omit theſe Diſquiſitions, and will not be curious where the Scripture is ſilent: Whoſoever ſhe was, ſhe ſtill carries the Name of what for ſome time ſhe was, A Woman that was a Sinner.

We commonly ſee ſome artificial Pi⯑ctures, which according to divers Sights and Aſpects, repreſent divers Things; ſuch an admirable Peice, with a double Reſemblance, hath St. Luke (an excel⯑lent Painter) here delineated in the moſt lively Colours. Look on one ſide, You ſhall ſee a laſcivious Woman offering her ſelf to Sale in the moſt tempting Man⯑ner; ſtep on the other ſide, You may behold an admirable Convert, attended with a Retinue of Graces: View it which way you will, here is the word, Ecce, Behold, like a Curtain before ſome exact Piece of Workmanſhip, which likewiſe [132] hath a double Reference to the Power of Chriſt who drew this Sinner, and to his Mercy who receiv'd her.

In this noble Hiſtory are ſeveral weigh⯑ty Circumſtances like ſo many Wedges of Gold in a rich Mineral, and one In⯑got appears at the Head of the Mine, Behold a Woman, which is a Word of Emphaſis and Energy, and if this Star ſtand over the Houſe, a Jeſus is within: Here, like Janus, it looks backward and forward; and ſo I ſhall diſcourſe of this Woman both as a Sinner, and as a Pe⯑nitent. And if it ſhall ſeem diſtaſtful, that I inſiſt a little longer than perhaps the Reader may judge neceſſary on the particular Sin, for which this Woman was publickly noted, let me put him in Mind of the Anſwer which the Comic Poet gave, who being accus'd of having brought a Lewd debauch'd Ruffian up⯑on the Stage, and ſo ſetting a bad Ex⯑ample to young Men: 'Tis true, ſays he, I brought ſuch a Man on, but I hang'd him before he went off, and ſo I gave them a good Example. Here is a better Leſ⯑ſon to be learn'd: All Women may ac⯑cept this Woman as a Pattern to imitate, and even the beſt may learn ſomewhat from her Story. For how ſinful ſoever ſhe may appear at firſt, let us ſuſpend [133] our Cenſure till the laſt Act, then we ſhall find how ſhe became à lebéte, phi⯑ala, of a Caldron boiling with Luſt, a Chryſtall Vial of pure Chaſtity; how ſhe that at firſt was running apace into the Dead Sea, did ſpeedily turn into the Path to Paradiſe.

I ſhall begin with her Fall, and con⯑ſider her firſt as a Sinner.

But alas! who is not ſo? Had ſhe not been a Sinner ſhe had been a Miracle; he that knows himſelf to be a Man, knows himſelf to be a Sinner, for in the Loyns of our firſt Parents we all ſinned; ſo that it is abſurd to ſuppoſe a Separation of Sin from Man's Nature: In our Conceptions thro' that Original Pollution, we are all warm'd in unclean Blood, and ſtill we continue ponere Adam ſuper Adam, to add new Sin to our Ori⯑ginal Sin: This Hereditary Poiſon is in⯑bred in every Man, and the Sullage of Adam's Clay ſticks faſt to us: By Adam's ſinning all his Seed are become ſinful, and all his Off-ſpring, as in a continued Line, do like corrupted Branches of a rotten Tree, ſtill bring forth corrupted Fruits.

The moſt perfect and glorious Light in the World is the Sun in the Firma⯑ment, yet hath he his Paralax, and his [134] Variation: And what Son of Adam was ever found, thro' the Zodiack of whoſe Life an Ecliptick could not be drawn? A Man without Sin is like the Mountain of Gold, or the Philoſopher's Stone, which have no Exiſtance but in Theory and the Operation of the Underſtanding. In Scholaſtical Speculations you will hear the Noiſe of ſuch a Being, but you ſhall no ſooner find him than the Eccho in the Poet, Quem non invenis uſquam, eſſe putas nuſquam: Such Utopical Perfe⯑ction is only an idle Dream of the Do⯑natiſts. It is the Voice of an Apoſtle, In many Things we offend all. Nothing more certain, than that Corruption has deep Root in God's peculiar People: Even their beſt Works (and they too like Solomon's Sculpture, a little upon a Pillar rare and few) will but weigh light in the Scales of the Sanctuary. As the Curtezan Lais ſaid, Philoſophers did ſometimes knock at her Gates, as well as other Men; ſo the beſt Men are often overtaken by human Frailties; let the beſt do what they can, they are but im⯑perfectly Good, in ſome Matter or other they ſtep aſide from God's Commands. It is a Truth as clear as the Sun, that the Seeds of Sin are in all Men, the Seeds not the Practice; there is not in [135] all the ſame Eruption, but there is in all the ſame Corruption. Some are Kytes, others Hawks, and the reſt Eagles, and yet all from the ſame Eyrie; he that bears Humanity about him, he that's cloathed with Fleſh and Blood, cannot but Sin: And yet tho' we cannot avoid being Tempted, yet we may ſhun the Commiſſion of Sin. It is one Thing to dart and glance a wanton Deſire, and another to court and plead for it. Tho' the Motions of Fleſh be alike in all Men, yet the humouring thoſe Motions is not ſo. It is one Thing for a Man to Sin, another to give himſelf over to the Com⯑miſſion of Sin. This continuance in any notorious Sin, is not only a Grave to the Soul, but a great Stone rolled to the Mouth thereof to keep it down.

What Eraſmus ſays of Paris, That after a Man hath uſed himſelf to the odious Scent of it, it grows more and more agreeable to him, is too true of Sin, which by long Entertainment be⯑comes Cuſtomary, and not eaſie to be diſmiſs'd.

We know that an expert Swimmer, being under Water, feels not the weight of a full freighted Ship of a thouſand Tuns riding perpendicularly over his Head; ſo whilſt we ſwim in the Cuſtom [136] of any pleaſing Sin, we are inſenſible of the Burthen of it; for frequency of Sin doth fleſh us in Immodeſty, aſſiduity in Impudence, and that Sin is almoſt in⯑curable that is ſteel'd by Cuſtom; which is a true Character given of this Wo⯑man, who is not deſcribed as a Woman who had ſinned, but a Woman that was a Sinner; it was not a tranſient, but a permanent Condition, that gave her that Denomination, her long continuance in her Trade had branded her with this Title, A Woman that was a Sinner.

This Woman was of a Noble Deſcent, and (as is generally receiv'd) was re⯑markable for a luxurious and inconti⯑nent Life; and in thoſe looſe Days, wherein Herod erected his Theaters and Amphitheaters, Debauchery was very much encouraged. And however Wan⯑tons may flatter themſelves, and take that for true Doctrine, which the un⯑wiſe Tutor ſometime ſpoke in the Comedy, Non eſt crede mihi, adoleſ⯑centi; It is no ſuch Fault in a young Man to follow Harlots; yet it is ſuch a Sin, as commonly drives to the Devil at once, a Sin which once indulged be⯑comes what may be call'd a pleaſant Madneſs.

[137]Hiſtory tells us of a certain Well in Epirus that will quench Firebrands if put into it, and yet when they are quenched it will preſently ſet them on Fire again: Like this Water is a laſci⯑vious Woman, when ſhe quencheth the Luſt of the Body for a time, ſhe ſetteth it on Fire afterwards much more witti⯑ly: Therefore Fonſeca the Spaniard hath Emblem'd this Vice by the Phoe⯑nix, which does revive and renew her ſelf by the Fire which ſhe kindles by the Motion of her Wings. Thus we mourn perhaps, and bewail, and repent, of the Sin we have committed, and deſire to give it over, that it may Die with us, but with the Wings of our Thoughts we blow thoſe Coals afreſh, and make them Flame more than be⯑fore.

Thus we walk the Round, firſt we act a Sin becauſe the Thought pleaſes us, then we think that Sin over again, becauſe the Act hath pleas'd us; and amongſt the great variety of Sins, there is none more plauſible, nor more plea⯑ſing to Nature than Wantonneſs: How many ſet their Souls burning in the Flames thereof, and (as Nero did when he had ſet Rome on Fire) behold them with Tranſport and Delight? How [138] many ſilly Wretches, like the fooliſh Lark, whilſt it playeth with the Fea⯑ther, and ſtoopeth to the Glaſs, are caught in the Fowler's Net? For a laſcivious Woman (to give a ſhort but true Character of her) is the Devil's Pitfall, a Trap to catch our Souls: Her Eyes, like free Doctors, live upon the ſpoil of Stragglers; ſhe baits her De⯑ſires with a Million of proſtituted Coun⯑tenances, her diſplay'd Breaſts, and looſe Glances, Locks wantonly waving over her Shoulders, her artificial Complecti⯑on, (the Counterfeit of the Great Seal of Nature) her curl'd Hair, (the Sophi⯑ſtry of the old cunning Serpent) her high Waſhes and Paintings are ſo many Lures to bring the Adulterer to the Snare.

But chaſte Thoughts will check and never ſtoop to ſuch Enticements; For when Fire falleth on Fuel that is wet it preſently goeth out.

When Potiphar's Wife, one of the greateſt Ladies in Egypt, did inordi⯑nately affect, impudently ſollicit, and, in a manner, force the Modeſty of her good Servant Joſeph, how much rather did he leave his Garment than his Vir⯑tue? Nor did he reſcue himſelf from Adultery and Danger by Violence to her [139] Perſon, nor neglect the Duties he owed her as a Servant, but with the hazard of his Name, Life and Liberty, he made an innocent Eſcape to preſerve his bet⯑ter Garment of Chaſtity.

The Arabian Proverb is elegant, Ob⯑ſtrue quinque feneſtras ut luceat domus, Shut the five Windows that the Houſe may be lightſome; cleanſe the Limbeck of the Senſes, leaſt thence ſome Polluti⯑on drop into the Soul. If at once we would overcome the Temptation and the Tempter, we muſt reſolve, with Alipius, to ſhut our Eyes when we come amongſt Vanities; for the Eye is the firſt Part that is ſtruck in ſuch Engage⯑ments, upon the firſt Aſſault it yields up our ſtrongeſt Fort: The Eye beſides is the vaineſt of all the Senſes, it takes ex⯑tream Delight to be cheated; one of the Pleaſures of the Eye is the Decep⯑tion of it, and how eaſie is that Senſe deluded which delights to be deceived.

The antient Philoſophers before A⯑riſtotle, that held Viſion to be perform'd by an Emiſſion of Beams, imagin'd the Eye to be of a fiery Nature, wherein they were confirm'd by obſerving, if the Eye had a Blow, Fire ſeems to ſpar⯑kle out of it: But certainly, how watry ſoever better Experience hath found the [140] Subſtance of the Eye, it is ſpiritually fiery, both actively and paſſively; paſ⯑ſively for that it is inflamed by every wanton Beam, actively it ſets the whole Heart on Fire with the inordinate Flames of Concupiſence: Thus Sichem ſaw Di⯑nah and defiled her; Viderunt Oculi, ra⯑puerant pectora flammoe, no ſooner did he ſee her than his Breaſt was inflam'd with Luſt. Thus Amon fell ſick for Tamar's Sake, his Deſire of her began at the firſt Interview. Thus when David walked upon the Roof of his Palace, and diſ⯑covered from thence a beautiful Woman waſhing her ſelf; here was Mulier longè, libido prope, for his petulant Eye recoil'd upon his Heart, and ſmote him with vitious Deſires. Yet it is not the Eye it ſelf, (for what is that but the Beauty of the Face, the bright Star of the Orb it moves in) but the Viciouſneſs of the Eye that is to be condemned; when we talk with our Eyes, then 'tis that we ſin with them. But I dare not inlarge up⯑on this Subject for fear of committing that which was a noted Fault in Marcel⯑lus the Rhetorition, (as Suetonius tells us) that lighting on a Figure he would purſue it till he forgot the Matter in hand; I will therefore return to diſcourſe more particularly of this Woman, ſo ſin⯑ful [141] in her Life, ſo hateful for her Luſt, and ſo devoted to Incontinence, that ſhe was become a common Scandal: For by her bad Example ſhe made the City ſo infamous, that ſhe might more fitly be call'd, peccatum Hieroſolymae quam peccatrix, the Sin of Jeruſalem, rather than a Sinner in Jeruſalem, as Petrus Chryſologus obſerves, becauſe the whole City ſhar'd the Diſgrace which ſhe de⯑ſerv'd.

Sin is Sin wherever committed, whe⯑ther before a Multitude, or in a Deſart; yet the more publick the Fact is, the greater is the Scandal, and this Woman's Offence was the more notorious, be⯑cauſe ſhe was a City Sinner.

I confeſs that no Place can ſecure one from Temptations, which come in too haſtily and uninvited, like rough Winds from every Corner of the Sky, and in ſuch Number, as if each Minute were computed by them.

We are apt to Fall, becauſe we are Mutable, but we do not commonly Fall except ſome Occaſion be given; and how full is the World of ſuch Occaſions? Our common Adverſary, the Devil (who has a thouſand Ways of attacking us) finds how apt we are to ſtumble at ſomething or other in our way: He [142] knows which way our corrupted Na⯑ture bends, he ſifteth out what will work upon our Affections and Diſpoſi⯑tions, and with that he wooes our Con⯑ſent to Sin; like a skilful Sailor he marks the Wind, and accordingly hoiſteth up or ſtriketh Sail; or, like a cunning Poet, he gives every Actor a Part agreeable, and makes a perpetual Uſe of the Bent of our Nature: Thus hath he a Wedge of Gold for covetous Achan, a Crown for ambitious Abſalom, and a Dinah for Sichem. And the Concurrence of Time and Place are his principal Engines, which ſerve to give Aim to ſuch Faults as our Nature is too apt to commit with⯑out a Prompter; then ſurely in a cor⯑rupt debauched City are more Invitati⯑ons to Sin, than in private Cells. In a large Concourſe of People you'll find many Brokers of Villany, who live up⯑on the Spoil of the unthinking Part of Mankind. Where many Pots are boil⯑ing there muſt needs be much Scum; where Multitudes of Strangers meet, where Variety of Delights entertain the Eye, it is more difficult to avoid Tem⯑ptations, for our Nature herein is like Fire, which, if there be any Infection in the Room, draws it to its ſelf, or like Jeat, which, omitting all more noble [143] and precious things, attracts only Straws and Dirt.

It was in a City where this Woman liv'd, where by her lewd Example ſhe drew in others to offend, and her Ex⯑ample was more prejudicial becauſe ſhe was of a good Family: Satan's Infecti⯑ons many times ſend their Influence through ſome great Star into leſſer Bo⯑dies, for Example is like a Stone thrown into a Pond, which makes Cir⯑cles which dilate themſelves till they are ſtopped by the Banks; or like a Plague-ſore which infects the By-ſtanders and Lookers on.

I do not find the Name of the City ſet down, yet many are bold to affirm it was Naim, others will have it Jeru⯑ſalem; where-ever ſhe liv'd ſhe was too well known in her Time, and having al⯑ready ſhew'd what her Offence was, I will not lay my Finger again upon that Blot; and having thus far drawn the black Lines of her Life, I will now look on the other Part, and conſider her as ſhe hath put off the Sinner, and as ſhe is now become a Penitent.

Scipio (as Livy ſays) never look'd ſo freſh, nor appeared ſo lovely to the Eyes of his Soldiers, as after his Recovery from a dangerous Sickneſs in the Camp; ſo [144] neither does the Soul ever ſeem more beautiful than when ſhe is reſtor'd to Health after ſome dangerous Conflict. The Palladium was very much eſteem'd by both Trojans and Graecians, not ſo much for the Matter or Workmanſhip, as becauſe it was ſnatch'd out of the Flames of Troy; ſo no Soul is more pre⯑cious in the Sight of God and his Angels than that which is ſnatched out of the Fire of Hell, and Jaws of Death.

To ſee Men turning from God to the World, from Piety to Prophaneſs, is as common as lamentable, every Day's Ex⯑perience ſhews us ſuch Sights. But to ſee Men return to God, is as happy as wondrous to Men and Angels; and what is more ſtrange, we ſee the firſt Diſciples that came to Chriſt were ſuch as were moſt deſperately enthrall'd to Satan. The Magi, Publicans, Harlots, the Thief, the Blaſphemer, &c. This ſhews the Depth of Chriſt's unſpeakable Mercy; who of the knottieſt and moſt crooked Timber can make Rafters and Cielings for his own Houſe: Thus he can call a Zachaeus from a Toll-booth to be a Diſciple, and Mathew to be an A⯑poſtle, and this ſinful Woman to be a Con⯑vert; who it ſeems came to Jeſus in Simon the Phariſee's Houſe, who had invited Chriſt to eat with him.

[145]She came not (as the ſtaring Multi⯑tude) to glut her Eyes with the Sight of a Miracle and his glorious Perſon, nor (as did the Centurion or the Syro⯑phenitian Woman, or the Ruler of the Synagogue) for Cure of her Sickneſs, or in behalf of her Friend, or Child, or Servant, but (the only Example of this ſort of coming) came for a Cure not of any bodily Grief or Malady, but for her Sins. She came with Remorſe and Re⯑gret for them, to lay her Burthen at Je⯑ſus's Feet, to preſent him with a broken and penitent Heart, a weeping Eye and great Affliction; for ſhe came humbling her ſelf, and fell down before him weep⯑ing bitterly for her Sins, pouring out a Flood of Tears large enough to waſh the Feet of Jeſus, which ſhe wip'd with the Hairs of her Head.

But amongſt all the Demonſtrations of God's Mercy, we can never enough magnifie his Goodneſs and Power in the Converſion of the dying Thief, who was execrable amongſt Men, and a Blaſphe⯑mer [146] of God: My Soul is loſt in Amaze⯑ment when I think of him; the Of⯑fender came to die, nothing was in his Thoughts but his Guilt and Torment: Chriſt was ſilent when he revil'd him, and being yet in his Blood, Chriſt ſaid, this Soul ſhall live; his good Spirit ſo breath'd upon him, and the Force of his Grace work'd ſo inſtantly and pow⯑erfully, that his laſt Hour was his firſt, wherein he knew his Saviour to be God. In ipſo Crucis candelabro Sol reſplenduit: The Sun did ſhine upon him from the Can⯑dleſtick of the Croſs: The Light where⯑of was ſo powerful, that it awakned this drowſie ſleeping Thief, leaving him ſo well inſtructed, that he preſently burns with a zealous Impatience; he cannot hear the Revilings of his Companion, but ſuddenly he becomes a Convert, chiding his Fellow-ſufferer, ſaying, Doeſt not thou fear God, ſeeing thou art in the ſame Condemnation. He confeſſes his Sins, We receive the juſt Rewards of our Deeds, But this Man hath done nothing amiſs; wherein he ſhews himſelf a Do⯑ctor to preach; and laſtly he becomes a Martyr praying, Lord remember me when thou comeſt into thy Kingdom: He that before had in his Eye nothing but preſent Death, is now lifted above his Croſs, in a bleſſed Ambition, Lord remem⯑ber [147] me when thou comſt into thy Kingdom. Is this the Voice of a Thief or of a Diſciple? Dic ô Latro, ubi Thronus ex Saphyro, ubi Cherubin, & exercitus coeli, ubi Co⯑rona, Sceptrum & purpura, ut Eum dicas Regem. Tell me, O Thief, what in⯑duc'd thee to ſtile him King. Where is his Throne? Where are the Cherubin and the whole Hoſt of Heaven? Seeſt thou any other Crown than that of Thorus, any other Scepter than ſtrong Iron Nails driven up to the Head through the Palms of thoſe bleſſed Hands, any other Purple but his Blood, any other Throne but his Croſs? What doſt thou ſee that can perſuade thee to call him King? O Faith greater than Death! that can look beyond a Croſs at a Crown, beyond Diſſolution at a Remembrance of Life and Glory; as no Diſciple could be more faithful, ſo no Saint could be more hap⯑py; Nam juxta fluenta pleniſſimae grati⯑am ſimul accepit & gloriam; For Grace and Glory with a full Tide both at once came flowing in upon him. The Reward every way out-weighed the Requeſt, Magis velox erat praemium quàm petitio, & ubetior gratia quam precatio; It was a greater Favour (ſaith St. Leo) to put this ſo diſcreet and humble a Petition into this Thief's Heart, but a much greater Favour to give him ſo good and quick a [148] Diſpatch. St. Cyprian ſays, Quid tu Domine Stephano amplius contuliſti. What could the Martyr St. Stephen en⯑joy more, or that beloved Diſciple that lean'd on Chriſt's Boſom? Or what could the long Services of thoſe that en⯑dur'd the Heat of the Day obtain more at God's Hands? But God gives them this Anſwer, I do thee no Wrong, didſt not thou agree with me for a Penny.

Some Labourers were working hard in the Vineyard from the firſt Hour, others from the third, others began at the ninth when the Sun was ſetting; firſt came Adam, then Noah, after him Abra⯑ham, and the reſt of the Holy Pro⯑phets; but this Thief came at the Sun-ſetting, and he that in the Morning was on his way towards Hell, is in the Even⯑ing with his Lord in Paradiſe. For no ſooner had he cried, Lord remember, but Chriſt anſwers him immediately, I ſay unto thee, and promiſes thou ſhalt, and ſeals that Promiſe with a Verily, and promiſes more than is asked, and that ſoon, Verily I ſay unto thee, thou ſhalt this Day be with me in Paradiſe.

So ſoon as Chriſt afforded this Thief any Call, he came; and yet this Thief's Converſion is become a Proverb, and ſatisfies and ſerves a Sinner in all Caſes of a late and Death-bed Repentance; [149] But they that urge him as a Precedent, ought to conſider that this Thief was not converted at laſt, but at firſt; and when we can find out ſuch another Day, we may expect ſuch another Mercy, a Day that open'd the Graves of the Dead, a Day that divided the Veil of the Tem⯑ple it ſelf, a Day which the Sun durſt not ſee, a Day that ſaw the Soul of God (if I may ſo ſay, ſeeing that God was Man too) depart from Man; there ſhall be no more ſuch Days, and therefore we muſt not preſume upon ſuch Mercy.

To the Chief of the Apoſtles, St. Peter, Chriſt ſays, Whither I go thou can'ſt not come; but to this Thief, he ſays, This Day thou ſhalt be with me in Para⯑diſe. So ſoon did Chriſt bring this Thief to that height of Faith, that e⯑ven in that low Eſtate upon the Croſs, he pray'd for a Spiritual Kingdom; whereas the Apoſtles themſelves (whom Chriſt had eſtated in Heaven, and had given them Reverſions of judiciary Places, twelve Seats to judge the twelve Tribes) yet in that Exaltation, when Chriſt was aſcending, they talked to him of a Temporal Kingdom. Sic fa⯑cit fides innocentem latronem facit infide⯑litas Apoſtolos criminoſos. Chriſt in⯑fuſed ſo much Faith into this Thief [150] as juſtify'd him, and leaves the Apoſtles ſo far to their Infirmities as endangers them.

This Thief came to know thoſe Wounds that were in Chriſt's Body were his own Wounds in the Body of his Saviour, ſo he came to declare per⯑fect Faith in profeſſing Chriſt's Inno⯑cence, perfect Hope in the memento mei, and perfect Charity in rebuking his Companion: He was ſuch a Thief as deſerved Praiſe and Wonder, who had a good Bargain of Death, and was the better and longer lived for being Hang⯑ed, for he was thereby made Partaker of Chriſt's Martyrdom and Kingdom: And this Thief hath done nothing but what we may all do, if we will lay hold on that Grace as he did: Aſſumemus vocem latronis, ſi nolumus eſſe latrones, ut ſedeamus à Dextris, pendeamus à Dextris: Let us be content to ſuffer, but ſuffer in the Right, ſuffering as a Malefactor is ſomewhat too much on the Left Hand; and yet even that Suffering does bring many to the Right Hand, being joyned with a true and hearty Re⯑pentance, which is as a City of Refuge to fly unto, it is the happy Plank that has ſav'd many a Soul from the Gulph of De⯑ſpair, the Board which after Shipwrack [151] will carry us ſafe unto Land; and it is not ill compared to a Phaenix's Neſt, wherein the Old Adam is conſum'd to Aſhes, out of which ariſes a new Man of God; for Converſion is a Sacred Rid⯑dle, wherein when we are Born, we are Buried; and when we are quicken'd we are kill'd, and when we are mortified we are rais'd. Thus Nineve was over⯑thrown and yet not overthrown, it was overthrown by Sin, and built again by Repentance. He that is a skillful Peni⯑tent does cunningly play this After-game, and a Sinner after his Recovery for the moſt part ſeeks God more fervently, and is more fearful of Relapſing, than be⯑fore of Sinning; like wild Beaſts break⯑ing from their Toils, they are more cau⯑tious for the future, and the Saints come out of the Bed of their Sins, as Heze⯑kiah did out of his ſick Bed, more Hum⯑ble, more Holy, more Penitent; as the Eagle that is weary'd, comes out of the Water, into which ſhe has dip'd her Wings, with a more towering Aſcent towards Heaven than ever. Dum pete⯑ret Regem, ſays Martial, when Mutius Scaevola miſſed his Aim, and inſtead of killing Porſenna, ſlew one of his Secre⯑taries by miſtake, he preſently offer'd that Hand which gave the Blow as a [152] willing Sacrifice to the Flame, which Hand grew famous for being deceiv'd; and it had been leſs Reputation to have ſtruck his Enemy to the Heart, than to puniſh it ſo ſtoutly for miſſing its Aim; upon which the Poet took Occaſion to ſay,

Without any change, I may apply it to Mary Magdalen's Converſion: ‘Si non peccaſſet fecerat illa minus.’ She would not have been ſo famous, had ſhe not ſinn'd; neither is this a Parodox; for what an Enemy would upbraid by way of Reproach, is the greateſt Praiſe that can be; their very Sins do honour ſome, as the Devils did Mary Magdalen, who are mention'd for her Glory, ſince we do not hear of them until they were caſt out; For Repentance is a Super⯑cedeas that diſchargeth Sin, making God to be merciful, Angels to be joyful, and Man to be acceptable: And as St. Auſtin affirms, It is a greater Deliverance, a mightier Miracle, and a bigger Grace, that a Sinner ſhould be Converted, than [153] that being converted he ſhould after⯑wards be ſaved: Here we ſee Mary Magdalen being now touch'd with Re⯑pentance for her former Sins and Vani⯑ties, like the thirſty and panting Hart in the extremity of Heat, does eagerly long for the cooling Springs Her Soul was deeply wounded with the ſting of her Sins, it ſtuck ſo faſt that ſhe could not get it out, therefore with the woun⯑ded Deer ſhe comes to the Soveraign Dittany to expel it; the Pool of her Conſcience was troubled, and with the deſcending Angel inſtantly ſhe ſteps in for a Cure; for ut cognovit venit, as ſoon as ſhe knew where Jeſus was, ſhe makes haſte to him; And the Zeal with which ſhe approacheth Chriſt is very remark⯑able. Chriſt was at Dinner in a Phariſee's Houſe, where we may obſerve by the way, that Chriſt frequented Feaſts, and we do not find he was ever invited to any Table and refus'd it; if a Phariſee or a Publican invited him, he made no difficulty to go, the end of his going in⯑deed was not to Eat, but to gain Souls to God, and to fulfill the Will of his Father, which was his Meat and Drink: And at whoſe Table did Jeſus ever Eat, and left not the Hoſt a Gainer? When Zachaeus entertain'd him, Salvation came [154] that Day to his Houſe, with the Author of it; and now when this Phariſee en⯑tertain'd him, his Table was honour'd with the publick Remiſſion of a Penitent Sinner. But how comes this Woman to thruſt her ſelf into this Phariſee's Houſe? Certainly great was her Faith, ſince no Diſadvantage could affright her from coming to Jeſus, not the Frowns, nor the Cenſure of a rigid Hoſt, who darted from his Eyes Diſdain and Scorn, ſeeing ſo notorious a Strumpet come to the Upper Chamber where he entertain'd his Company, and that too in Chriſt's Preſence, who knew her wicked Life, and (no doubt) was offended at her Action. A Phariſee's Houſe might have ſeem'd indeed an unlikely Place to find a Saviour in, and it was very improper to ſerve in Tears at a Banquet: Certainly the Holy Spirit mov'd on the Waters: Doubtleſs this Woman had heard from our Saviour's Lips, in his Heavenly Ser⯑mons, many gracious Invitations of all diſtreſs'd and ſin-burthen'd Souls, and now at length ſhe was entangl'd in the Net of his Heavenly Doctrine: For our Saviour (as St. Chryſoſtom ſays) hath two ſorts of Nets, a one of Wonders, ano⯑ther of Words; in the former of theſe he caught thoſe many that believ'd on [155] his Name; by the latter he inclos'd his very Enemies, even thoſe very Officers that were ſent to apprehend him, and bring him before the High Prieſt; and ſtill doth our Bleſſed Saviour ſpin out the Thread of his Love, to an infinite Length, to try whether we will lay hold on it. He doth angle for us, he ſits in Heaven, lets down the Line of his Love, and Baits it with his Mercy, to ſee whe⯑ther we will ſwallow it, that he may catch our Souls; with ſuch a Hook was this Woman taken, ſhe had treaſur'd up his Sayings in her Memory, ſhe had ob⯑ſerv'd that he not only pardon'd Sinners, but receiv'd them into his Preſence, ſhe had obſerv'd the Paſſages of his Power and Mercy, and a deep Remorſe wrought in her ſelf, for her miſpent Life; and ſurely, had not the Spirit of God wrought upon her, ere ſhe came, ſhe had neither ſought nor found Chriſt. For thoſe good Graces which God finds in us, are like the Silver which Joſeph found in Ben⯑jamin's Sack, of his own putting in. If his Hand does not move the golden Cym⯑bal, it will give no pleaſant Sound, for our Will herein is like a lower Sphere, which receives its Motions from ſome firſt Mover. And we may believe, the Holy Spirit firſt breath'd, and then that [156] Blaſt begat the Shower of Tears which Mary pour'd out; for firſt; Thus ſhe be⯑ing firſt mov'd by the Spirit of God, comes in and finds Chriſt whom ſhe ſought; ſhe comes into his Preſence not empty handed, but with a precious Con⯑fection of Ointment of Nardus, the chief of all Ointments, which ſhe intended to beſtow; this delicate odoriferous Per⯑fume, ſhe brings in as rich a Veſſel, a Box of Alablaſter; ſhe uſed likewiſe a good Decorum, ſhe did not preſently pour out her Ointment upon the Feet of Jeſus; but (obſerving a decent Or⯑der in her Repentance, and in this her laudable Action) firſt ſhe gives the Sa⯑crifice of a broken Heart, ſhe ſtood be⯑hind at Jeſus's Feet, her Eyes ſuffici⯑ently teſtified her godly Sorrow, which dropp'd down Tears as faſt as the Ara⯑bian Trees their medicinal Gums: She wept ſo plentifully, that with thoſe Streams of Penitence ſhe began to waſh his Feet, and did wipe them with the Hairs of her Head, to ſhew her Abje⯑ction or Neglect of her ſelf: Thus cun⯑ningly in Abaſement of her ſelf does this humble Penitent, like the Syrophe⯑nitian Woman, like a Dog, lick her Maſter's Feet; at the Feet of Chriſt ſhe makes a general Sacrifice of all thoſe [157] Things wherewith ſhe had offended him: Quot habuit in ſe oblectamenta, tot de ſe fecit Holocauſta.

Her Eyes, her Lips, her Hair, her Ointment, all the Inſtruments of her Sin, were turn'd at her Converſion into the Means of Life; as the Iſraelites that gave their Jewels to the making of a Calf, did afterwards beſtow them upon the Lord's Tabernacle; ſuch was this Woman's Practice, who having now ta⯑ken leave of her former Vanities, and diſrob'd her ſelf of all her rich Orna⯑ments, does, like an excellent Apothe⯑cary, that knows how to mix his Me⯑dicines, make a moſt ſoveraign Antidote out of a moſt deadly Poiſon.

She uſed to ſend forth her alluring Beams into the Eyes of the laſcivious Paramours, therefore from her Eyes flow a Deluge of Tears, ſhallow enough to bear the Ark of her Sorrow; ſhe had made her Lips the Incitements to Luſt, and Inlets to Vanity, but now they ſan⯑ctifie themſelves with their Reſpect to the Son of God; her Hair, which ſhe had [158] ſo often curl'd at her Glaſs, doth now ſerve for a Towel to dry his Feet; her odoriferous Perfume, wherewith ſhe uſed to make her ſelf acceptable to her amorous Companions, ſhe beſtows on thoſe ſacred Feet which her Eyes had watered, her Hair dried, and her Mouth kiſſed. And this ſtrange Circumſtance of her anointing was ſcarce done to any but Chriſt, nor to him but by this Wo⯑man: It was eſteemed ſo great an Exta⯑ſie of Love and Adoration, that to a⯑noint the Feet even of the greateſt Mo⯑narch, was long unknown in all the Pomps and Greatneſs of the Roman Pro⯑digality. It was not us'd (as Pliny ſays in his natural Hiſtory) till Otho taught it Nero, in whoſe Inſtance it was by Pliny reckon'd for a Prodigy of unneceſ⯑ſary Profuſion, and in it ſelf it was a Preſent for a Prince, and an Alablaſter Box of Nard Piſtick was ſent as a great Preſent from Cambyſes to the King of Aethiopia.

But was the Oyntment ſo precious, and ſhe ſo poor that ſhe could not bring a Napkin? certainly ſhe wanted not fine Linnen to have dry'd Chriſt's Feet with; but to ſhew her hearty Devotion, and ſincere Humility, her Shame, her Tears, her godly Sortow were not enough, ſhe [159] ſtill ſeeks farther to make her ſelf more vile, and of no Price before Chriſt; ſhe her ſelf is the Servant that waits on him; from her ſelf do fall the Dews of Water that waſh his Feet; and as her Eyes were the Ewer, ſo her Hairs were the Towel, uſing the chiefeſt Ornament of her Head in the meaneſt Office of our Saviour's Feet; and thus ſhe ſeems to climb up towards Heaven by the ſame Rounds of that Ladder by which ſhe was formerly going down to Hell.

When Simon the Phariſee obſerved this Woman ſo buſy in the Expreſſion of her Religion and Veneration of Jeſus, he thought within himſelf, this was no Prophet that did not know her to be a Sinner, and that would ſuffer her to touch him. For altho' the Jews Reli⯑gion did permit the Harlots of their own Nation to live and enjoy all the Privileges of their Nation, except only that their Oblations were refus'd: Yet the Phariſees (who pretended to a greater Degree of Sanctity than others) would not permit them to civil Uſages, or Be⯑nefits of ordinary Society, and thought Religion it ſelf and the Honour of a Prophet was concern'd in the ſame Su⯑perſtitiouſneſs. And therefore Simon made an Objection within himſelf, which [160] Jeſus knowing (who underſtood his Thoughts as well as his Words) made an Apology for her and himſelf by a civil Queſtion, expreſs'd by way of Pa⯑rable of two Debtors, to whom a grea⯑ter and a ſmaller Debt reſpectively was forgiven, both of them concluding, that they would love their merciful Creditor in Proportion to his Mercy; which was Mary Magdalen's Caſe, who becauſe ſhe had much forgiven, loved much, and expreſs'd it in Characters ſo large, that the Phariſee might read his own Inci⯑vility and unhoſpitable Entertainment of the Maſter, when it ſtood confron⯑ted with the Magnificency of Mary Mag⯑dalen's Charity and Penance, the laſt of which ſhe ſufficiently expreſs'd by her Tears.

Such is God's Goodneſs, that he hath placed in the Eye both the Diſeaſe and the Cure, the Faculty of Seeing, and the Sluce of Tears, that they who of⯑fend by Seeing, may be recover'd by Weeping. Tears are the Favourites, that have the Ear of the King of Hea⯑ven; they are our Bills of Exchange which he allows, and returns them with what Sums of Bleſſings we deſire; ſo long as we pay him this Type of our Devotion, ſo long is our Tenure ſafe, [161] and our Title to his Goodneſs and Mercy unqueſtionable.

This Soveraign Water will recal a Sinner to the Life of Grace, tho' never ſo far gone. Theſe heavenly Showers are the Streams of Jordan which cure our Leproſie, the Silim to cure our Blind⯑neſs, the Betheſda to heal our Lameneſs and Defects of Obedience; never was the Poyſon of any Sin ſo cold, but the Hand of Repentance could thaw it; never was the Flame of any Sin ſo hot, but the Tears of Repentance could cool it: Magis frugiferae Lacrymantes vineae. The bleeding Heart, like the dropping Vine, is for the moſt Part fruitful. I cannot here expreſs my Thoughts of Mary Magdalen's Tears in a better Strain than that of the Poet.

[162]Her Ointment indeed was precious, but her Tears were more ſo, her Tears were her beſt Advocates to plead for Mercy at the Throne of Grace: Inter⯑dum lacrymae pondera vocis habent: For ſometimes Tears have as much Force as Words. She ſpake not, for ſhe knew ſhe was before one who knew the moſt retir'd Thoughts, and moſt private De⯑ſires of her Soul; what need her Tongue ſpeak, when her Eyes, her Hands, her Geſture, her Countenance, and her whole Behaviour, ſpoke her Deſires.

Amongſt other Things obſervable in the greater and more ſolemn Feaſts of the Jews, there were ſome Ceremonies uſed by them as Preparations to their Feaſts, which Joſephus tells us were Three. Firſt, Their Salutation, which was ſhewn either by Words, or ſome humble Poſture of the Body, ſometimes by Proſtrating their whole Body, ſome⯑times by Kiſſing the Feet, as in this Paſ⯑ſage, and commonly by an ordinary Kiſs of the Cheek, as a Pledge of their wel⯑come to their Gueſt. The Second was the Waſhing of their Feet before they ſat down to Eat. The Third Compli⯑ment was pouring Oil upon the Head. In all which Obſervances, Simon (tho' of the formal Sect of the Phariſees) [163] was defective. Inſomuch that our Sa⯑viour taxes him of this neglected Office in his Entertainment, Thou gaveſt me no Water for my Feet, &c. And well might the Phariſee read his own Fault in the Praiſe Chriſt gave of this Woman, ſo well ſeen in the Cuſtoms of her Coun⯑try, in redoubling of her Kiſſes of an humble Thankfulneſs on thoſe Sacred Feet.

To Repent then is to Kiſs the Feet of Jeſus, and it is all one to be ſorry for our Sins, and to love him; this is confirm'd by our Saviour's Words, who denomi⯑nates this whole Action from Love. Chriſt ſays not, ſhe wept much, ſhe ſor⯑row'd much, but ſhe lov'd much, and by all means ſhe ſought to expreſs her great Love, which great Mercy rais'd. For nothing ſhe had was too dear, with her moſt precious and fragrant Ointment ſhe anointed our Saviour's Feet, that rich and coſtly Teſtimony of her Love ſhe beſtow'd freely, for ſhe did not drop but pour, not a Dram or two but a whole Pound, not reſerving any, but breaking the Box, and pouring it all out: What went before was the Sacrifice of a broken Heart, with that firſt Sacrifice ſhe ador'd the Divinity of Chriſt, this laſt ſhe tendreth to his Humanity: The [164] firſt Shower of her Tears were Tears of Sorrow and Repentance; the latter, which overtook the firſt, were Tears of Joy and Love. And ſo pleaſing to Chriſt were all the Actions of this perfect Pe⯑nitent, that he not only defended her againſt the Phariſee, in preferring her Kindneſs to the Entertainment of his Houſe; but againſt Satan and the Powers of Hell, in forgiving her many Sins with⯑out any Enumeration of them. This is the Subſtance of what paſſed betwixt Jeſus and Mary Magdalen in the Pha⯑riſee's Houſe; but I cannot leave this happy Convert there, but muſt follow her to Bethany, to ſee her Comport⯑ment there, and at our Saviour's Death, and after that at his Reſurrection.

Jeſus having left Jeruſalem in the 3d Year of his Publick Miniſtry, after he had Wept over it, he came to Bethany, where he met with another ſort of Re⯑ception than he had at the Holy City; there he Supped; where Martha making great Preparations for his Entertainment, to expreſs her Joy and Affection to his Perſon, deſir'd Jeſus to diſmiſs her Si⯑ſter Mary from his Feet, who ſate there Feaſting her ſelf with the Food of An⯑gels, the Words of God, unmindful of providing for his Entertainment; But [165] Jeſus commended her Choice, and tho' he did not expreſly refuſe Martha's Ci⯑vility, yet he preferr'd Mary's Religion. Here Mary Magdalen (who had ſpent before one Box of Nard Piſtick upon our Lord's Feet as a Sacrifice for her Converſion) now beſtow'd another in Thankfulneſs in reſtoring her Brother Lazarus to Life, and conſign'd her Lord to his Burial; and here too ſhe met with an evil Interpreter, Judas an Apoſtle, one of Chriſt's own Family, pretended it had been better to have given it to the Poor; but it was Malice and the Spirit of Envy that ſpoke, not Religion. For he that ſees an Action well done, and ſeeks to undervalue it, by telling how it might have been done better, reproves nothing but his own Spirit; For a Man may do very well, and God will accept it, tho' to ſay he might have done bet⯑ter, is to ſay only, that Action was not the moſt abſolute and perfect in it's Kind; but the End of that Man beſt ſhew'd his preſent Meaning; and at the beſt it could be no other than a raſh Judgment of the Action and Intent of Mary Magdalen, and by his declaiming againſt her he made tacite Reflections upon his Lord for ſuffering it; and yet it is not intima⯑ted [166] in the Hiſtory of the Life of Jeſus, that Judas had any Malice againſt the Perſon of Chriſt; for when afterwards he ſaw the Matter was to end in the Death of the Lord, he repented; but a baſe unworthy Spirit of Covetouſneſs poſſeſs'd him, and the Relicks of Indig⯑nation for miſſing the Price of the Oint⯑ment burnt in his Bowels, with a ſecret dark melancholy Fire, and broke out into an Action which all Ages of the World could never Parallel: To what end was this waſte of Ointment, ſays Judas, for it might have been ſold for more than Three hundred Pence, and been given to the Poor; but Jeſus ſaid, Let her alone, why trouble you her, ſhe hath wrought a good work on me.

As this was well intended, it was well taken by Chriſt, and approv'd of by all preſent except Judas, who liking his own Gain better than any Scent in the Apothecaries Shop, ſeeing that ſpent on his Maſter's Head, which he wiſh'd in his own Purſe, grumbled at it; and that with ſo colourable a Pretence, that it was a needleſs Expence, a Waſte, and that it might have been beſtow'd much better for the Relief of the Poor, as that Judas drew ſome of the Diſciples to favour the Motion, and to diſlike [167] Mary Magdalen and her Action; ſo that both they and he joyn'd in one Bill; but he of wretched Covetouſneſs of Mind, and they of a ſimple plain Intent and Purpoſe, thinking all that was well⯑ſpoken was well-meant; ſo that the Action was not brought only againſt her that beſtow'd it, but againſt Chriſt that admitted it. Whereupon he pleads her Cauſe, not only excuſing her, but com⯑mending it as a good Work And yet the Ointment was not ſo pleaſing to his Senſe as her Gratitude was to his Spirit; for he then declar'd, that the Ointment which fill'd the Houſe with the Scent, ſhould fill the whole World with the Report of it; and as far as the Goſpel ſhould be preach'd, ſo far ſhould the Remembrance of her Action reach, as well for her Commendation, as for our Imitation.

Thus we ſee Things well done are oftentimes ill taken, and often good In⯑tentions want good Conſtructions. No Perſon had ſuch Experience of this as Mary Magdalen: The Scripture records three ſeveral Virtues of hers, and in each of them ſhe was murmur [...]d at. When in the Bitterneſs of her Soul, ſhe ſhew'd her Repentance by Tears, Simon the Pha⯑riſee did what he could to Diſgrace her: [168] When ſitting at Chriſt's Feet, Martha her Siſter complain'd of her to Chriſt; and now here again the third Time, when in an honeſt regard of her Duty, ſhe's ſhewing her Thankfulneſs for Com⯑fort receiv'd, Chriſt's own Diſciple ſpeaks againſt her. So that if ſhe waſhes Chriſt's Feet with Tears it contents not, if ſhe anoints his Head with Balm its Matter of Diſpleaſure, and if ſhe Sits ſtill and ſays nothing, 'tis all one, ſtill Mary Magdalen is in Fault, her Doings ever ſtand awry: This is the Fortune of all that follow her Steps; even Chriſt himſelf could neither have his Feet a⯑nointed, but Simon the Phariſee, nor his Head anointed, but Judas his Apo⯑ſtle, ſpeaks againſt it.

But we muſt not leave Mary Mag⯑dalen here; for notwithſtanding theſe great Diſcouragements and Rebukes, which ſhe receiv'd from Judas and ſome of the Diſciples, ſhe neglected not her Duty, nor left her Lord till his Death; for loving Chriſt more than her Life, ſhe followed him in his Journey to his Death, attending him when his Diſci⯑ples fled, being more willing to Die with him, than to Live without him. She was laſt at his Croſs, and firſt at his Grave, ſtaid longeſt there, and was [169] ſooneſt here; ſhe could not reſt till ſhe was up to ſeek him, ſought him before the Day lighted her; ſhe ſtood by the Grave, where faint Love uſes not to ſtand; we bring our Friends to the Grave, and there leave them, but come no more at it, nor ſtay longer by it; but Mary Magdalen did, and ſhe only and none but ſhe, as we ſhall ſee by the Se⯑quel of this Diſcourſe.

We find in the whole Tenour of the Goſpel, that God obſerves a mixture of much ſpiritual Power and Glory, with much outward Meanneſs: The Goſpel is call'd a rich Treaſure in an earthen Veſſel; the Myſtery conveyed is preci⯑ous, but the Means of Conveyance mean and contemptible; The whole Myſtery of Chriſt is made up of Power and Meekneſs; his Conception was by the Holy Ghoſt, of a pure Virgin, but the out-ſide Mean, his Bleſſed Mother, an Earthen Veſſel, the Spouſe of a poor Carpenter; his Birth publiſh'd by an Angel, but diſcover'd firſt to poor Shep⯑herds; his Lodging pointed out by a Star, and yet his Cradle but a Manger, his Nurſery but a Stable: Being in the Wilderneſs he was attended by Angels; but ſee the poor Out-ſide, he was a⯑mongſt wild Beaſts; in his Agony he [700] was full of Trembling and Horror, but then he receiv'd Comfort from Heaven by an Angel; at his Death he was Cru⯑cified with Thieves, but yet the Powers of Heaven and Earth trembled at it: The Tidings of his Reſurrection were told by an Angel, but ſpread through the World by poor weak Women. Had Fleſh and Blood had the Management of the News of his Reſurrection, it would have been firſt publiſh'd to the College of the Apoſtles, and St. Peter ſhould have had the firſt Intelligence by a Viſion of Angels directed to him. Kings and Princes make known their Minds to inferior People by their Great Officers and Miniſters, but the Court of Heaven takes other Meaſures. God em⯑ploys poor, and in the Eye of the World, contemptible Men, to declare his Will to the Potentates of the World: And this was the grand Objection made by the miſtaken Pagans to Chriſt and his Diſciples, that Chriſtianity was ſet on foot by ſuch abject and mean Perſons as Chriſt made choice of; but that which begat in them Contempt and Scorn, ought to fill us with Wonder and Admiration.

And to make Amends for that Ob⯑ſervation, that no good Angel ever aſ⯑ſum'd the Likeneſs of a Woman, here [171] are Women (of whom M. Magdalen was chief) made Angels, i. e. (as the original ſignifies) Meſſengers and Pub⯑liſhers of the greateſt Myſtery of our Religion; for M. Magdalen, with other devout Women, (who not conſidering the Reſurrection of Chriſt) went with a pious Intention to do an Office of Re⯑ſpect and Honour to the Body of their Maſter, which they meant to embalm in the Tomb, where they thought to have found it; there was God, the God of Life, dead and laid in a Grave, and here was Man, a dead Man riſen out of the Grave; here are Angels of Heaven employed in ſo low an Office as to in⯑ſtruct Women, and Women employ'd in ſo high an Office as to inſtruct the Apoſtles; here are angelical Women, and evangelical Angels; Angels made Evan⯑geliſts to preach the Goſpel, and Women made Angels to be Inſtructors of the Church.

Now tho' it has been doubted whe⯑ther the bleſſed Virgin was there when this paſs'd at the Sepulcher, yet that Mary Magdalen, and Mary the Mother of James and Salmone were there is cer⯑tain.

They came to embalm the Body of Jeſus, (for the Rights of embalming a⯑mongſt [172] the Jews us'd to laſt forty Days) and their Love was not ſatisfy'd with what Joſeph had done; but herein they were very inconſiderate, for that was only done upon ſuch Bodies as were ex⯑tenerated and embowell'd, and then fill'd up and plaiſter'd about with Spices and Gumms to preſerve them from Pu⯑trefaction, when they were to be carried into remote Parts; but of theſe re-em⯑balmings, after the Body had been laid in the Sepulcher, I never read, neither ſeems it to have been poſſible for theſe Women to have come at the Body of Chriſt: And by the Winding-ſheet of Chriſt, which is kept in Savoy, it appears that that Sheet ſtuck ſo cloſe to the Body, as that it did, and does ſtill retain the Demenſions of his Body, and the Im⯑preſſions and Marks of every Wound that he receiv'd in his Body; ſo that it would have been no eaſie Matter for theſe Women to have pull'd off that Sheet, if it had been faſten'd to his Bo⯑dy with nothing but his Blood: But if (as ſome Authors ſay) his Body was car⯑ried looſe in the Sheet which is ſhew'd in Savoy, from the Croſs to the Sepul⯑cher, and then taken out of that Sheet and embalmed by Nicodemus, and wrapp'd up in other Linnen upon thoſe [173] Spices and Gums which he beſtow'd up⯑on it, and then buried according to the Manner of the Jews, whoſe Cuſtom it was to ſwath the Bodies of the Dead, as we do Children, all over, (for ſo La⯑zarus came out bound Hand and Foot with Grave-cloaths) how could theſe Women think to embalm the Body of Jeſus ſo ſwath'd and bound up as that Body was? for certainly it was the Bo⯑dy not the Grave-cloaths they meant to embalm, and it ſeems ſtrange that no one has touch'd upon this Doubt: All Expoſitors make good Uſe of their Piety and devout Care of their dead Maſter, but of the Impoſſibility of their coming to the Body, of the Irregularity of their Undertaking that, and proceeding ſo far in that which could not poſſibly be done, there is no mention: Indeed Cry⯑ſologus ſays, ſaeva paſſionis procella tur⯑baverat, that a bitter Storm of Paſſion and Conſternation had ſo diſorder'd them, as that no Faculty of theirs could per⯑form their right Function: & praefervoſe caecutiebant, Earneſtneſs had ſo diſcom⯑pos'd and amaz'd them, as they diſcern'd nothing clearly, nor did nothing order⯑ly. Another inconſiderate Action of theſe Women was, the removing the Stone of the Sepulcher, for they had pre⯑par'd [174] their Gumms, and were on the way to the Sepulcher before they thought of that; then they ſtop, and ſay one to another, who ſhall roll away the Stone from the Sepulcher. Yet they ſtill go on, and their Love anſwers the Objection, not knowing how it ſhould be done; but yet reſolving to go through all Difficulties, but never think how they ſhould paſs the Guard that was ſet at the Tomb. But when they came there, they found the Guard affrighted and re⯑mov'd, and the Stone roll'd away; for a little before they arriv'd there had been a great Earthquake, and an Angel deſcending from Heaven had roll'd a⯑way the Stone and ſate upon it; with the Terror of his Appearance and the Earthquake, the Soldiers were aſto⯑niſh'd, and were like dead Men; and ſome of them ran to the High-Prieſt and told what had happen'd: Hereup⯑on the Women finding the Door o⯑pen, enter'd into the Sepulcher, and miſſing the Body of Jeſus, M. Magda⯑len ran to the Eleven Apoſtles, com⯑plaining that the Body of our Lord was not to be found; they thought this Story the Product of a weak and frightned Fancy; however Peter and John ran as faſt as they could to ſee; for the Un⯑expectedneſs [175] of the Relation, the Won⯑ [...]f the Story, and the Sadneſs of the [...]n, mov'd them. They preſently [...]ed to the Garden, but John being [...]ounger and the nimbler, out-ran [...]ompanion and came firſt thither, [...]e he only peep'd but went not in, [...]r out of a Fear in himſelf, or a great [...]rence to our Saviour; Peter, tho' [...]d in the way, was before in his [...] and being older and more conſi⯑ [...]e, came and reſolutely enter'd in⯑ [...]e Sepulcher, where he found no⯑ [...] but the Linnen Cloaths lying to⯑ [...]er in one Place, and the Napkin [...]ad been about his Head wrapp'd [...]her in another; which being diſ⯑ [...]d with ſo much Care and Order, [...]'d that our Saviour's Body was not [...]n away by Thieves, (as the Jews [...]d have it) who uſe to be more care⯑ [...] conſulting their own Safety and [...]pe, than of leaving things orderly [...]s'd behind them.

[...]y this time M. Magdalen was come [...] again to the Sepulcher where the [...]r Women had ſtay'd for her, and [...] the Angel ſpeaks to them, and [...]s them of another groſs Abſurdity, [...]ebukes them for it, Why ſeek ye the [...]g amongſt the dead? Why him who [176] is the Son of the living God, the Prince of Life, who hath Life in himſelf, and who is Life it ſelf, amongſt the Tombs of dead Mortals? What makes you think of arming him with Gumms againſt Pu⯑trefaction, who told you before he was not ſubject to Corruption but would riſe again? M. Magdalen alſo fell into ſuch another Error: For when the Angel had told her at the Sepulcher, He is not here, for He is riſen, as he ſaid; yet when ſhe came running to Peter, ſhe ſaid no⯑thing of the Reſurrection, never thought of that, but pour'd her ſelf out in that Lamentation, they have taken away our Lord. Whereas if ſhe had conſider'd, ſhe muſt neceſſarily have known from the Angel's Words, that no Man had taken away the Lord, that no Man had laid him any where elſe, but that by his own Power he was riſen: But as in this Storm of Paſſion, they left Chriſt's Promiſe, that he would riſe, unconſider'd, never remember'd the rolling of the Stone from the Door of the Sepulcher, nei⯑ther did they conſider the Impoſſibility of coming to Chriſt's Body to do the Office they intended: Their Devotion was awake, but their Conſideration was not ſo; however they did not loſe all the Benefits of their pious and devout [177] Intention; for the Angel did not forbear to comfort them with, Do not ye fear: Let them continue in Fear that remain in Unbelief, and have no God to com⯑fort themſelves in. Let thoſe mercena⯑ry Soldiers that are hir'd to watch the Sepulcher fear, and never recover; but why ſhould You fear who ſee none but us, your Fellow-Citizens in the Service of God, if your Converſation be in Hea⯑ven as it is, if you do truly ſeek that Jeſus who is riſen that he might go thi⯑ther.

It ſeems the other Women, who came with M. Magdalen, and ſtay'd till Peter and John had been there to make Trial of M. Magdalen's Report, as they were ſpeedy in coming, and diligent in ſearch⯑ing Chriſt, ſo they were in haſte to be gone when they could not find him, and fearful of farther ſeeking, and their Departure commends M. Magdalen's ſtaying behind: To the Grave ſhe came before them, from the Grave ſhe went to tell them, thither ſhe returns with them, and there ſhe ſtays behind them; a ſtronger Affection fix'd her, and ſo fix'd her, that ſhe had not Power to re⯑move thence.

To ſtay whilſt Company ſtays that is the World's Love, but Peter is gone, [178] and John is gone, and the Women are gone, and ſhe left alone, and to ſtay a⯑lone ſhews conſtant Love. She ſtood and wept, ſhe wiſh'd to find Chriſt, and therefore wept for his Abſence, whom ſhe dearly lov'd whilſt ſhe had him, ſhe bitterly bewail'd him ſhe thought loſt; and having loſt the Sight of her Life, ſhe deſir'd to dwell in the dark, chuſing Chriſt's Tomb for her beſt home, and there ſtood weeping; ſhe abandon'd the Living for the Company of the Dead; and now it ſeems that even the dead have forſaken her, ſince the Body ſhe ſeeks is taken away from her: It was Love in⯑duc'd her to ſtand, and Sorrow forc'd her to weep; her Eye was watchful to ſeek, whom her Heart moſt lov'd to en⯑joy; and her Feet in a Readineſs to run, if her Eye could chance to eſpye him. But as ſhe watch'd to find her loſt Lord, ſhe wept for having loſt whom ſhe had lov'd, for as firſt ſhe mourn'd for the Departure of his Soul out of his Body, ſo now ſhe lamented the taking his Body out of the Grave; for tho' her firſt Sorrow was becauſe ſhe could not enjoy him alive, yet ſhe hop'd at leaſt to have found him dead; to which purpoſe ſhe had prepar'd her Spices, and provided her Oyntments, to [179] pay him the laſt Duties: And tho' Joſeph and Nicodemus had already beſtow'd a hundred Pound of Myrrhe and Aloes, which was as well apply'd as Art and Devotion could deſire, yet ſuch was her Love, that ſhe would have thought a⯑ny Quantity too little without the Ad⯑dition of her own; ſhe came therefore now intending to embalm his Corps, as ſhe had before anointed his Feet; and as in the Spring of her Felicity ſhe had waſhed his Feet with her Tears, bewailing unto him the Death of her own Soul, ſo now ſhe came in the Depth of her Miſery to ſhed them again for the Death of his Body. But when ſhe ſaw the Grave open'd, and the Body gone, the Labour of embalming was prevented: But the Cauſe of her Tears increas'd, and tho' ſhe found no Uſe for the Spices, yet ſhe found how to employ her Tears, now as much afflicted for his Loſs, as be⯑fore ſhe had been pleas'd at his Preſence. But ſince weeping without ſearching was to no Purpoſe, her weeping hin⯑der'd not her Inquiry, her Sorrow dull'd not her Diligence; ſhe often ſtoop'd and look'd into the Grave, but why ſhould ſhe now look in, ſince Peter had been in the Tomb, and John had look'd in before. However ſhe will not truſt [180] either Peter's or John's Eyes, nay ſhe will not truſt her ſelf, ſhe will ſuſpect her own Senſes, ſhe will rather think ſhe look'd not well before, than leave off looking. And thus hoping in Deſpair, and deſpairing in Hope, ſhe ſtood at the Sepulcher without fear, becauſe ſhe thought now nothing left that ought to be fear [...]d. But with what Hope or with what Heart could ſhe ſtand alone at the Tomb, when the Diſciples were gone; for her Eyes had ſeen, and Peter's Hands had felt, that the Lord was not there; the empty Winding-ſheet did alſo confirm it, and yet nothing could make her be⯑lieve it; her diſappointed Love had drown'd both her Mind and Memory ſo deep in Sorrow, and ſo amaz'd her Senſes by his Abſence, that all remem⯑brance of his former Promiſes was di⯑verted with the Crowd of preſent Trou⯑bles; for doubtleſs, had ſhe remember'd him, as ſhe ſhould have done, ſhe would not have thought the Tomb a fit Place to ſeek him in, neither would ſhe have mourn'd for him as dead, and remov'd by the Treachery of others, but joy'd in him, as reviv'd by his own Power; but Sorrow had quite ſtupify'd her Senſes, diſtemper'd her Thoughts, diſcourag'd her Hopes, awak'd her Paſſions, and left [181] her no other liberty than to weep, ſhe wept therefore; and as ſhe was weep⯑ing, ſhe ſtoop'd down, and look'd into the Sepulcher, and ſaw two Angels in White, one at the Head, and the other at the Feet, where the Body of Jeſus had been laid: Angels in a Grave! a ſtrange Sight! never ſeen before: That ſure was a Place fitter for Worms than Angels. They were in White too, a Co⯑lour expreſſive of Joy, Heaven mourn'd at his Paſſion, the Eclipſe of that Day ſhew'd them all in Black, but at the Re⯑ſurrection they rejoyce, they are now all in White, even the Heavens and Angels. They were ſitting, the one at the Head, the other at the Feet, which may be re⯑ferr'd to Mary Magdalen's having anoin⯑ted his Head and his Feet, they ſat at theſe two Places, as it were to acknow⯑ledge ſo much for her Sake: Between the Angels there was no ſtriving for Places; he that ſat at the Feet was as well con⯑tented, as he that ſat at the Head; but with us, both Angels would have been at the Head, never a one at the Feet: And they ſaid unto her, Woman, why weepeſt thou? They ask'd her, Why ſhe wept? believing ſhe had no Cauſe, all was in Error, Tears of Grief, but falſe Grief, imagining him to be dead that was [182] alive; ſhe wept becauſe ſhe found the Grave empty, which, God forbid, ſhe ſhould have found full, for then Chriſt muſt have been dead ſtill; for want of Belief in his Reſurrection, ſhe believ'd he was carried away; ſhe err'd in ſo be⯑lieving; there was Error in her Love, but there was Love in her Error; and it was a great Argument of her Love, to call him Lord, after he had ſuffer'd the moſt opprobrious and ignominious Death, ſuch as would have made many bluſh to own him.

When ſhe look'd firſt ſhe ſaw no An⯑gel, and then of a ſudden looking down, ſhe ſaw two; yet the ſuddenneſs and gloriouſneſs of the Sight mov'd her not at all, ſhe ſeem'd to have no Senſe of it, but wept on, which was ſtrange; for here methinks her good Fortune exceeds her Hopes, and where her laſt Sorrow was bred, her firſt Succour ariſes, for ſhe ſought but one, and ſhe found two; one dead Body was the Cauſe of her Errand, and ſhe found two alive; her Weeping was for a Man, and her Tears have found Angels, who invite her to a Parly, and ſeem to pity her Caſe. They ſit at the Tomb, to ſhew they are no Strangers to her Loſs, they ſpake to her, as tho' they had ſome ſpecial Meſſage to [183] deliver to her; and if ſhe had ask'd them concerning her Maſter, they were the likelieſt to give her a ſatisfactory An⯑ſwer, and to have told her the Cauſe of their coming, and the Reaſon of her Lord's remove; but nothing could move her to admit Comfort, or to entertain any Company, for having vow'd her ſelf to Chriſt alone, except to him, ſhe will neither lend her Ear, nor borrow others Help: Beſides, whatever they could tell her, if they told her not of him, and whatſoever they told her of him, if they told her not where he was, both their telling, and her hearing, were but a waſting of Time; for ſhe came not thither to ſee Angels, but him who made both her and them, and to whom ſhe ow'd more than to Men and Angels; and being full of wavering Uncertain⯑ties, and perplex'd Thoughts, ſhe be⯑gan to think, if ſhe ſtaid there by the Tomb where he was not, ſhe ſhould never find him; and if ſhe would go farther to ſeek, ſhe knew not whither; to part with the Tomb was Death to her, and to ſtand helpleſs by it would do no good; ſo that all her Comfort was, that ſhe muſt either ſtay there with⯑out Help, or go without Hope: Then ſhe blam'd her ſelf, for leaving him when [184] ſhe had him, thus to lament him now ſhe had loſt him, and for departing when it was time to ſtay, and returning when it was too late to Help; forget⯑ting what her Maſter uſed to ſay, when he told her, He would riſe again the third Day: But why doth ſhe torment her ſelf with theſe tragical Surmiſes? Does ſhe think the Angels would ſit ſtill if their God were not well, did they ſerve him after his Faſting, and would they deſpiſe him after his Deceaſe? If in the Garden he might have had Twelve Legions of An⯑gels, (as he ſaid) Is his Power ſo gone with the Life of his Body, that he could not now Command them? Was there an Angel found to help Daniel to his Dinner, to ſave Toby from the Fiſh, and to defend Balaam's poor Beaſt from his Maſter's Rage? And is the Lord of An⯑gels of ſo little Concern, that if his Body wanted it, no Angel would defend it? But ſhe ſaw two there to Honour his Tomb; and how much more careful would they be to do Homage to his Perſon? She might well think they would not Smile, if ſhe had juſt Occa⯑ſion to Weep, they would not ſo glori⯑ouſly ſit in white, if a black and mourn⯑ing Weed did better become them.

[185]But why did her Sorrow queſtion ſo much about the Place where they had laid her Lord? might not ſhe better ſup⯑poſe, that he was in Paradiſe; for ſince he came to repair Adam's Ruins, and to be the common Parent of our Redem⯑ption, as Adam was of our Original In⯑fection, 'twas reaſonable, that having en⯑dur'd all his Life the Penalty of Adam's Exile, he ſhould after Death re-enter upon a Poſſeſſion of that Inheritance which Adam loſt. And beſides, if her Sorrow at the Croſs had not made her as Deaf, as at the Tomb it made her Forgetful, ſhe could not but have re⯑member'd what he himſelf ſaid to one of the Thieves, That the ſame Day he ſhould be with him in Paradiſe.

Whilſt Mary Magdalen thus loſt her ſelf in a Labyrinth of Doubts, mixing Tears with her Words, and warming them with Sighs, ſhe ſaw the Angels with a kind of Reverence as tho' they had done Honour to one behind her; whereupon ſhe turn'd back and ſaw Je⯑ſus ſtanding, but knew not that it was him. For when Jeſus ſaw that nothing would give her Comfort but himſelf, that no Angels, no Sight, no Speech of others would ſerve, then her Lord comes, and from ſeeking him dead, ſhe [186] finds him alive; but firſt he comes un⯑known, ſtands by her, and ſhe did not ſuſpect that it was he; ſhe not only knew not that 'twas Jeſus, but miſtook him for the Gardiner: Proper enough it was, and fitted well with the Time and Place, it was the Spring, and in a Garden, and ſhe did not miſtake in taking him for a Gardiner, tho' ſhe might ſeem to err in ſome Senſe; yet in another Senſe ſhe was in the right: For in a Spiritual Senſe, Chriſt may be ſaid to be a Gar⯑diner, for of the firſt the faireſt Garden that ever was, Paradiſe, he was the Gar⯑diner, it was of his Planting, and ever ſince it is he that makes all our Gardens Green, ſends us Yearly the Spring, and all the Herbs and Flowers we gather in the Seaſon: And 'tis he that gardens our Souls too, and weeds out of them whatſoever is prejudicial to or deſtru⯑ctive of his Word ſown in our Hearts. He ſows them with the true Roots of all Chriſtian Virtues, waters them with the Dew of his Grace, and makes them bring forth Fruit to Eternal Life.

Beſides all this, Chriſt on the Day of his Reſurrection was moſt properly a Gar⯑diner, and that a ſtrange One, who made ſuch an Herb grow out of the Ground that Day, as the like was never ſeen be⯑fore, [187] (except in the Inſtance of Laza⯑rus rais'd by him) a dead Body to ſhoot forth alive from the Grave.

But was it poſſible that Mary Magda⯑len could forget Jeſus, whoſe Faith had fix'd him in her Underſtanding, her Love in her Will, both Fear and Hope in her Memory, for him her Eye weeps, her Thoughts greive, her whole Body fainteth, her Soul languiſheth, and there was no Part of her that was not buſie about him; and yet ſhe had forgotten him; his Countenance and Voice aſſure her, his Words witneſs it, her Eyes be⯑hold him, and yet ſhe knew him not: But there was ſuch a Shower of Tears between her and him, and her Eyes were ſo dimm'd with weeping for him, that tho' ſhe ſaw the Man, ſhe could not diſcern Jeſus; and therefore as he ſeems to her a Stranger, he asketh the ſame Queſtion of her which the Angels had, only quickens it a little with Woman why weepeſt thou, whom ſeekeſt thou? If ſhe ſeeks Chriſt, why knows ſhe him not? and if ſhe knows him, why does ſhe ſeek him whom ſhe ſees? It is a common thing with us to ſeek a Thing, and when we have found it, not to know we have.

[188]Scarce three Days ago ſhe ſaw him hanging on a Tree with his Head crown'd with Thorns, his Eyes full of Sorrow, his Ears fill'd with Blaſphemies, his Mouth fed with Gall, his whole Perſon mangled and disfigur'd, his Arms and Legs rack'd with violent Pulls, his Hands and Feet boar'd with Nails, his Side wounded with a Spear, his whole Body torn with Scourges and goar'd with Blood; and yet Chriſt asketh her, Why ſhe weeps? and not without Cauſe doth he ask this Queſtion, becauſe ſhe would have Chriſt alive, and yet wept becauſe ſhe did not find him dead: She was ſorry he was not there, and for that very Cauſe ſhe ſhould rather have been glad; for if he were Dead ſhe might have expected to ſee him there, but his not being there was a ſign he was Alive: But ſhe ſtill taking Jeſus to be the Gardiner, ſaid unto him, If thou haſt carried him from hence, tell me where thou haſt laid him, and I will take him away: To ask Chriſt for Chriſt ſeems ſomewhat ſtrange, which however it falls out in other Matters, here it was ſafe, even when we ſeek Chriſt, to pray Chriſt to help us to find Chriſt, for we cannot come to him ex⯑cept he draws us: But Mary Magdalen ſeems ſomething more harſh to Chriſt [189] than to the Angels, to them ſhe com⯑plains of others, ſaying, they have taken him away: But ſhe ſeems to charge Chriſt, at leaſt to ſuſpect him of the Fact, as if he had look'd like one that had been a Robber of Graves; her if im⯑plies as much, but Love, as it fears where it need not, ſo it ſuſpects without Cauſe. But St. Bernard ſpeaks to Chriſt for her: Domine amor quem habebat in Te, & dolor quem habebat de Te, excuſat eam apud Te, ſi fortè erravit circa Te. The Love ſhe bore him, the Sorrow ſhe had for him, may excuſe her, if ſhe were in any Error concerning him, in her ſay⯑ing, Si ſuſtuliſti. Her Affections ſeem to tranſport her, (as ſhe ſays) no Man knows what, to one a meer Stranger to her, and ſhe to him, ſhe talks to one thrice under the Name of him, if thou haſt taken him, tell me where thou haſt laid him, and I will fetch him; alas poor Woman, ſhe was not able to lift him, there goes more than one or two either to the carrying of a Corps; as for his, it had more than a Hundred Pound weight of Myrrh and other Odours up⯑on it.

She charged not the Angels with his Removal, nor ſeem'd to miſtruſt them, for ſhe did not requeſt them to inform [190] her where he was laid; but now ſhe judgeth the Gardiner to be the Author of her Loſs, being almoſt fully perſua⯑ded, that he was privy to the Place, and acquainted with the Action; and tho' ſhe was not altogether in the right, yet ſhe was not much in the wrong, and err'd with ſuch aim, that ſhe miſs'd very little of the Truth.

But ſince ſhe was ſo deſirous to know where Jeſus lay, Why did not ſhe name him when ſhe ask'd for him? She ſays only ſhe will take Him away, her Cou⯑rage ſeems above the Strength of a Wo⯑man, neither does ſhe remember that all Women are weak, ſhe promiſeth without Condition, ſhe makes no Ex⯑ception, as if nothing were impoſſible that her Love ſuggeſteth. It was indeed wonderful, that Love had ſo bereav'd her of Senſe, that tho' ſhe ſaw the An⯑gels, ſhe could not ſee Jeſus. She ſought for one, whom when ſhe had found ſhe knew not; and not knowing him when ſhe found him, ſhe ſought for him when ſhe had him: But alas, how could poor Mary believe, that after her Lord had liv'd ſo long, labour'd ſo much, died with ſuch Pain, and ſhed ſuch ſhowers of Blood, he ſhould come to no higher a Preferment, than to be a Gardiner; [191] Was a ſorry Garden the beſt Inheri⯑tance her Love could have imagin'd for him, or a Gardiner's Office the higheſt Dignity ſhe could allow him? It had been better he had liv'd to have been Lord of her Caſtle of Magdalen, than with his Death ſo dearly to have purchas'd ſo mean a Poſt.

But her Miſtake hath in it a farther Myſtery, tho' her Sight was deceiv'd, ſhe thought not amiſs; For as our firſt Father in his State of Innocence was plac'd in a Garden of Pleaſure, and his firſt Office was that of a Gardiner; ſo the firſt Man that ever was in Glory, appear'd firſt in a Garden, and preſented himſelf in the likeneſs of a Gardiner, that the beginning of Glory might re⯑ſemble that of Innocence and Grace. And as that Gardiner was the foil of Mankind, the Parent of Sin, and Au⯑thor of Death; ſo this was the Raiſer of our Ruins, the Ranſom of our Offence, and the Reſtorer of Life. In a Garden, Man was deceiv'd and enſnar'd by the Devil. In a Garden, Chriſt was betray'd and apprehended by the Jews. In a Garden, Adam was condemn'd to eat his Bread in the Sweat of his Brows; And after a Free-Gift of the Bread of Angels in the laſt Supper, Chriſt did [192] earn it us, with a Bloody Sweat of his whole Body; And as by Diſobedient eating the Fruit of a Tree, our Right to the Garden of Paradiſe was forfeited by Adam; ſo by the Obedient Death of Chriſt upon a Tree, a far better Right is now ſettled; And as when Adam ſinn'd in the Garden of Paradiſe, he was then apparell'd in the Skin of a dead Beaſt, that his Cloathing might betoken his Grave, and his Livery of Death agree with his Condemnation to Die; ſo to defray the Debt of that Sin, in this Garden Chriſt lay clad in the dead Man's Shrowd, and buried in his Tomb, that as our Evils began ſo they might end, and ſuch Places and Means as were the Premiſes of our Miſery, might be alſo the end of our Misfortune; and for theſe Reaſons Mary Magdalen was allow'd to miſtake, that we might be inform'd of the Myſtery, and ſee how aptly the Courſe of our Redemption did anſwer the Proceſs of our Condemnation.

But why could not Mary Magdalen as well ſee what in truth Chriſt was, as what in ſhow he ſeem'd to be? but ſhe thought ſo to have found him as ſhe left him, and ſhe ſought him as ſhe ſaw him laſt, being ſo overcome with Sorrow for his Death, that ſhe had neither room [193] nor reſpite in her Mind, for any hope of his Life, and therefore ſhe ask'd the Gardiner, If thou haſt carried him hence, tell me where thou haſt laid him, and I will take him.

But one would be ready to think her Maſter was very unkind to leave her ſo long without Comfort, and to puniſh her ſo much, who ſo well deſerv'd Pardon: She did not follow the Tide of his bet⯑ter Fortune, to ſhift ſail with the Stream; ſhe left him not in his loweſt Ebb, ſhe revolted not from his laſt Extremity; in his Life ſhe ſerv'd him with her Goods, in his Death ſhe departed not from his Croſs; and after Death ſhe came to dwell with him in his Grave.

But now Chriſt begins to take Pity on her, her Tears were too mighty Orators to let her Suit fall, tho' they pleaded at the moſt rigorous Bar, they tie the Tongues of all Accuſers, and ſoften the rigour of the ſevereſt Judge, they win the Invincible, and bind the Omnipo⯑tent; when they ſeem moſt Pittiful, they have the greateſt Power, and being moſt Forſaken, they are more Victorious: For this Water her Heart had been long a Limbeck, ſometimes diſtilling it from the Weeds of her own Offences, with the true Fire of Contrition, ſometimes [194] of the Flowers of Spiritual Comforts, with the Flames of Contemplation; and at other times out of the bitter Herbs of her Maſter's Miſeries, with the Heat of a tender Compaſſion. Her Tears, that were heretofore the Proctors for her Brother's Life, were now the Invi⯑ters of thoſe Angels in the Monument for her Comfort, and the Suiters that ſhall be rewarded with the firſt Sight of her reviv'd Saviour. For when Chriſt ſaw all was in vain, that neither Men nor Agels, nor himſelf (ſo long as he kept himſelf a Gardiner) could get any Thing out of her, but that her Lord was gone, he was taken away, and that nothing but Jeſus could yield her any Comfort; He is no longer able to contain, but even diſcloſes himſelf, and that by his Voice; And now Chriſt is found alive, that was ſought Dead. A Cloud may be ſo thick as to hide the Sun from our Sight, the Sun muſt ſcatter that Cloud and then we may ſee its Light: Here is an Example of it: A thick Cloud of Heavineſs had ſo obſcured Mary Magdalen's Eyes, that ſhe could not ſee him thro' it, this one word, theſe two Syllables Ma-ry from his Mouth diſpels all the Darkneſs; no ſooner had his Voice ſounded in her Ears, but it drove away all the Miſt, dries up [195] her Tears, opens her Eyes, and ſhe knows him, and anſwer'd him with her wonted Salutation, Rabboni: Thus the Gardiner did his Part, brought Mary Magdalen from a dead and drooping, to a lively and cheerful Eſtate; She ſought Chriſt dead and impriſon'd in a Stony-Grave, and finds him both alive, and at full li⯑berty; She ſought him in a Shroud more like a Leper than himſelf, left as the Model of the utmoſt Miſery, and the only Pattern of the bittereſt Unhappi⯑neſs, and now ſhe finds him inveſted with Robes of Glory, the Owner and Giver of all Felicity. She that had ſo long ſought without finding, wept with⯑out Comfort, and call'd without Anſwer, is now fully ſatisfied with this one word, Mary, having heard him call her in his wonted Manner, and uſual Voice, this one word reſtor'd her Senſes, enlighten'd her Mind, quicken'd her Heart, and re⯑viv'd her Soul.

But why did Chriſt chuſe to be made known to her by the Ear, rather than by the Eye, by Hearing rather than by Appearing, becauſe her Eyes were hol⯑den, till her Ears were open'd? The Philoſophers tell us, Hearing is the Senſe of Wiſdom, and in Matters of Faith the Ear goes firſt, and is of more uſe, and [196] to be truſted before the Eye. No ſooner had Chriſt's Voice ſounded in her Ears, but ſhe knew forthwith it was he; and being raviſh'd with his Voice, and im⯑patient of Delays, a ſudden Joy ſo over⯑preſt her, by ſo unexpected a Preſence, and ſo many Miracles laid at once before her, that ſhe could no more proceed in her own, than give Chriſt leave to go forward with his Speech; but falling at his ſacred Feet, ſhe offer'd to bath them with Tears of Joy, and to kiſs his late grievous, but now moſt glorious Wounds. But Chriſt forbad her, ſaying, Touch me not: This ſeem'd a ſtrange Rebuke to Mary, who when dead in Sin, ſhe touch'd his mortal Feet, and now being alive in Grace, ſhe was denied to touch his glo⯑rious Feet, being commanded from that for which ſhe was before commended by our Saviour. Alas! What Harm had there been if he had ſuffer'd her to touch him? Before his Paſſion, many deſir'd and ſtrove to touch him, and there went Virtue out of him, even while he was Mortal, but now he was Immortal in all likelihood much more Virtue would pro⯑ceed; Chriſt was not uſed to be ſo ten⯑der of being touch'd; at ſeveral Times and Places he ſuffer'd the rude Multitude to crowd and thruſt him, and much ruder [197] Touches at his Paſſion: Why ſuffer'd he them then, and why ſuffer'd he not her now? ſhe had touch'd before both his Head and his Feet, and anointed them both, and ſhe now brought Odours in her Hand to Re-embalm him; It was early, and yet by that time ſhe had given very good Proofs of her Love: She was early up, came firſt to the Grave, return'd and call'd Peter and John, ſtaid laſt at the Grave, had been at ſuch Coſt, taken ſuch Pains, had wept ſo much as to refuſe Comfort, even when offer'd by Angels, till ſhe had found Chriſt ſhe was a Stranger to Conſola⯑tion, and now having found him, that ſhe muſt not touch him, ſeems very hard; one poor Touch had been but an eaſie Recompence for all her Pains and Sorrow; But if we look into the Rea⯑ſon Chriſt gives, it is yet more ſtrange, Touch me not, for I am not yet aſcen⯑ded, as if he had ſaid, when he was Aſcended then ſhe ſhould; but if ſtand⯑ing upon Earth by him, he is not to be touch'd, when he is taken up in⯑to Heaven no Arm can reach him there.

There is a Time and Place for No⯑li me tangere. The World began with a Noli me tangere. The firſt Words [198] God ſpake then were, Touch not the forbidden Fruit: But Chriſt is not the forbidden Tree but the Tree of Life, to be touch'd and taſted, that we may live by him; but this touch me not was not on Chriſt's Part, but on Mary's, no Lett in him to be touch'd, the Lett was in her, ſhe might not touch him; would Chriſt have Men to touch him, and not Wo⯑men; for St. Thomas put his whole Hand into the Place of his Wounds, and put him to no Pain at all; and certain Wo⯑men met him in the way after his Reſur⯑rection, amongſt which was M. Magdalen, and he then ſuffer'd them to touch him, and take him by the Feet: So that it ſeems this Prohibition was not Real but Perſonal, not abſolutely but not at that time; which ſhews all was not well with M. Magdalen, ſomething was amiſs, ſhe muſt have been to blame in the Manner of her Offer; ſhe muſt have been a little too forward it may be, and not have us'd all the Reſpect ſhe ſhould have done: For as ſoon as Chriſt cry'd Mary, ſhe anſwer'd, with her wonted Term, Rabboni; and as ſhe ſaluted him with her uſual Word, ſo after her Cuſtom ſhe went towards him, and would have touch'd him, not in ſuch a Manner as was fitting to be ob⯑ſerv'd, nor with that Regard which his [199] new glorified Eſtate ſeem'd juſtly to re⯑quire, for that which was enough to Chriſt a few Days paſt, was not ſo now: She poor Woman was defective in her Judgment out of an Exceſs of her Affe⯑ction, ſhe thought he had been Rabboni ſtill: It ſeem'd to her that Chriſt was now as her Brother Lazarus was after his Re⯑ſurrection; that Chriſt had riſen neither more nor leſs but juſt the ſame he was be⯑before, to be ſaluted, approach'd, and touched as formerly he had been.

It ſeems ſhe was not before ſo carry'd away with Sorrow, but ſhe was now as far gone in the other of Joy, and ſo for⯑got her ſelf in offering to touch him no otherwiſe than ſhe did before: Her Caſe was like St. Peter's in the Mount, who knew not what he ſaid, when he pro⯑pos'd the building of three Tabernacles; ſhe knew not what ſhe did, being ſo ſur⯑pris'd with the ſudden Joy, as ſhe had no Leiſure to recollect her ſelf, to weigh the wonderful great Change this Day wrought in him: For when her Judgment was better ſettled, ſhe did touch him but then it was upon her Knees, down at his Feet, another manner of Geſture than as it ſeems ſhe firſt offer'd.

'Tis true he gave St. Thomas leave to touch, whoſe Faith was in his Fingers [200] Ends; he then believ'd not, was in Doubt, thought he had been a Ghoſt, and to clear that Doubt he was ſuffer'd to touch him; St Thomas, and M. Magdalen, or whoe⯑ver touch'd Chriſt on Earth, if they had not been more happy to touch him with their Faith, than with their Hands, they had receiv'd no Good at all by it; it was much better with Faith to touch the Hemm of his Garment, than without it to touch any Part of his Body; touching was the proper Cure for St. Thomas's Di⯑ſeaſe; but ſo it was not for M. Magda⯑len, who was ſure the Voice ſhe heard was that of Rabboni, ſhe had no need to be confirm'd in that. Her Diſeaſe was of another Sort, not want of Faith, but want of due Regard; Thomas touch'd be⯑cauſe he believ'd not, ſhe touch'd not becauſe ſhe misbeliev'd; he touch'd that he might know Chriſt was riſen; ſhe touch'd not that ſhe might know, he was not ſo riſen as ſhe imagin'd, that is as in former times ſhe knew him. And Chriſt did hereby ſilently tell her, there was a great Difference between a glorious and a mortal Body, between the Condition of momentary and eternal Life, and that ſhe ſhould rather with Reverence fall down afar off, than with ſuch Familiarity ap⯑proach to touch him; that ſhe was firſt [201] to embrace him with a firm Faith, then ſhe ſhould touch him with more worthy Hands; and therefore he commanded her to go about that which requir'd more haſte, to run to his Brethren and inform them, that he would go before them in⯑to Galilee, and there they ſhould ſee him; and ſo M. Magdalen, preferring her Lord's Will to her own, obey'd his Command in departing, but thought her ſelf but an unfortunate Meſſenger of moſt joyful News, being baniſh'd from her Maſter's Preſence, to carry News of his Reſur⯑rection; and going in this perplex'd Manner, ſhe meets by the way the other holy Women, (who firſt came with her to the Grave) whom the Angels had then aſſur'd of Chriſt's Reſurrection, and as they all paſs'd towards the Diſciples, Jeſus met them, ſaying, All Hayle, and ſo they came near, and took hold of his Feet, and ador'd him; then he ſaid unto them, Fear not, go tell my Brethren that I go into Galilee, there they ſhall ſee me.

Thus Chriſt apply'd a Lenitive to aſ⯑ſwage M. Magdalen's Pain, after the ſharp Corroſive which had griev'd her tender Wound, which was made rather by Ig⯑norance than Error, and was as ſoon cur'd as known, and therefore ſhe was now admitted to kiſs his Feet.

[202]She had indeed great Favours granted her, not only to ſee Angels, but to ſee Chriſt, and him firſt of all; and more than that, to be employ'd by Chriſt upon a heavenly Errand, and no Reaſon for this but that ſhe lov'd much. We cannot ſay ſhe believ'd much, ſince ſhe believ'd no more than juſt as much as the High Prieſt would have the World believe, that he was taken away by Night: Her Faith cannot be commended, but her Love cannot but be prais'd, of which ſhe gave good Proofs to Chriſt both living and dead. St. Auguſtin tells us the Rea⯑ſon why Chriſt ſuffer'd her not to touch him, was to wean her from all ſenſual and fleſhly touching, to teach her a new and true Touch; for her touching of his Body, which ſhe deſir'd, would laſt but forty Days, and he therefore taught her another Touch, that might ſerve to the World's End.

But St. Gregory ſays, Chriſt's forbid⯑ding her to touch him, was to ſave Time, he being deſirous to diſpatch her upon an Errand better pleaſing to him, and that requir'd more haſte; he was care⯑ful that his Friends might receive Com⯑fort with the firſt, and therefore he bids her go with all ſpeed, for that it would do them more good, to hear of his Ri⯑ſing, [203] than it would do her to ſtand and touch him. It was a great Honour to Mary Magdalen, to be the Meſſenger of theſe bleſſed Tydings, there is no harſh Term in this Meſſage; for tho' his Di⯑ſciples fled from him, forſook him, and forſwore him, he hath forgotten and for⯑given all, he does not caſt them off, as they did him, but ſends to them by the Name of Brethren: But this ſpecial Ho⯑nour that was done to Mary Magdalen, was withall a ſilent blaming the Diſci⯑ples, for ſitting at Home ſo drooping in a Corner, that Chriſt not finding any of them, is feign to ſeek a new Apoſtle, and finding her where he ſhould have found them and did not, to ſend to them by the Hand of her whom he firſt found at the Sepulcher, and by this Mary Mag⯑dalen ought to be ſatisfied; for to be thus ſent to be the Meſſenger of theſe bleſſed Tydings is a more ſpecial Ho⯑nour done to her, than if ſhe had been let alone, and been admitted to touch Chriſt, which ſhe ſo eagerly deſir'd; for we may be ſure Chriſt would never have enjoyn'd her to leave the better and take the worſe, to forbear to touch him, to make the more haſte to them, if that had not then been the better Employment. The Reaſon why Chriſt bids her go and tell them, That I aſcend, was, becauſe [204] he knew they would ſay, Oh! He is riſen, We ſhall have his Company again as we had before; but by ſending them word of his Aſcending, he gave them warning betimes, that he Roſe not to make any Abode with them, or to Con⯑verſe with them on Earth, as formerly he had done. He knew this would be a hard Leſſon, and would trouble them much, for they were ſtill over addicted to his Bodily Being with them; here they would have detain'd him, built him a Tabernacle here, and by their good Will, would never have let him go from hence.

This was their Error, and to rid them of this Earthly Mind, thus ſtriving to affix him, and keep him here on Earth, he ſhews them they were much miſtaken, and ſets them right: When Chriſt was riſen, he was not far from aſcending, and if we be riſen with him, we muſt no more look down into the Grave, nor fix our ſelves on Earth, but ſtrive to aſcend with him alſo.

All Things in Heaven and Earth do ſo, riſing they aſcend preſently: In Hea⯑ven the Stars are no ſooner riſen above the Horizon, but they are in their Aſ⯑cent, and never leave aſcending, till they come to the higheſt Vertical Point. In [205] Earth, the little Spires that peep out of the Ground now at this Time (Na⯑ture's time of her Yearly Reſurrection) they are no ſooner out but up they ſhoot, and never leave to aſpire till they have attain'd the full Pitch of the Growth al⯑low'd them by Nature; ſo ſhould we from our Birth always aſcend, nor ever ſtop, till we reach the higheſt Perfection our Nature is capable of.

In our ſelves it is not ſtrange for earth⯑ly Men to have earthly Minds, and ha⯑ving Clay for our Original, that our Souls ſhould cleave to the Duſt; ſo it is with us, tho' ſo it ought not to be: The very Heathen Poet ſaw, that tho' we be made of Earth, we are not made for Earth: That an Heavenly Soul was not put into an earthly Body, to the end the earthly Body ſhould draw it down to the Earth; but rather that the Soul ſhould lift it up to Heaven, and ſo much is ſhewn by our os ſublime & vultus ad ſydera, the very Frame of our Body that bears us up thi⯑therward; for tho' we are born in this World and live in it, yet we belong to another Corporation, we are Denizens of another Country, and Free of that City which is above, whoſe Builder is the Lord.

[206]Thus we ſee by what happened to Mary Magdalen, and the other devour Women, that they were not only capa⯑ble of Religious Offices, but that they were early in their Religious Work, they began betimes. There is but one Pa⯑rable that tells us, That they that came late to the Labour, were as well re⯑warded as the earlieſt, and that is no Encouragement to late Comers, as not ſo much reſpecting the different Ages of a Man, but different Year of the World. And let that Parable be underſtood after the Vulgar way of interpreting it, yet we ſhould remember that theſe that were call'd at the laſt Hours came as ſoon as they were call'd. Mary Magdalen, and theſe Women, were alſo earneſt and ſe⯑dulous; and tho' their Devotion was carried upon Things that could not be intirely done, yet God caſt no Cloud of Diſcouragement upon them, but exalted and maintain'd their Holy Confidence, and accepted their Devotion; for where the Root and Subſtance of the Work is Piety, God often overlooks ſome Errors in Circumſtance as inconſiderable.

Let therefore Mary Magdalen be our Pattern, let us learn from her, that we may find Chriſt; if we ſeek him early and diligently, we ſhall meet him: Let [207] us learn of her to fear no Dangers in queſt of Chriſt, and to think of no Com⯑forts without him; let us riſe with her in the Morning of our good Motions, and let them not ſleep in Sloath, when Diligence may execute them; let us run with Repentance to our ſinful Hearts, which inſtead of being Temples (thro' our Faults) are become Tombs to Chriſt: Let us roll away the Stone of our former Hardneſs, remove all heavy Loads of Sin that oppreſs us, and look into our Souls, whether we can there find Chriſt; If he be not there within us, let us ſtand Weeping without, and ſee him in other Creatures; ſeek him, and not his, ſeek him for himſelf, and not for his Gifts; If our Faith have found Chriſt in a Cloud, let our Hope ſeek to ſee him: If our Hope hath led us to ſee him, let our Love ſeek farther into him: Let us ſeek him truly, and no other for him; ſeek him purely, and no other Thing with him; ſeek him only, and nothing beſides him; and if at the firſt Search he appear not, think not much to perſevere in Tears, and to continue our ſeeking as Mary Magdalen did. Let us ſtand upon the Earth, tread under us all worldly Vani⯑ties, and touch them only with the Soals of our Feet; that is, with the loweſt [208] and leaſt part of our Affections; and to look better into the Tomb, let us bow down our Necks to the Yoak of Humi⯑lity, that with lowly Looks we may find him, whom ſwelling and haughty Thoughts have driven away: And if we can perceive in the Tombs of our Hearts, the Preſence of Chriſt's two firſt Meſſen⯑gers; that is, at the Feet, Sorrow for the bad that is paſt; and at the Head, Deſire to a better that is to come; en⯑tertain them with Sighs, and welcome them with Penitent Tears, and let us not ceaſe ſeeking till we find Chriſt.

Thus preparing our ſelves with Dili⯑gence, coming with Speed, ſtanding with fix'd Hopes, and ſtooping with humble Hearts, if we crave with Mary Magdalen, no other Thing of Jeſus but Jeſus himſelf, he will anſwer our Tears with his Preſence, and continue with us for ever.

Of the LIFE and CONVERSION of St. Paul.

ST. PAƲL was born at Tar⯑ſus, the Metropolis of Ci⯑licia, a City vaſtly rich and populous, wherein an Aca⯑demy was furniſhed with Schools of Learning, where there were Schollars that excelled in all Parts of Polite Literature. Thoſe of other Pla⯑ces, and even Rome it ſelf, was behold⯑en to it, as Strabo tells us, for many of its beſt Profeſſors, and therefore it was made a Roman Munificium, inveſted with many Privileges, by Julius Caeſar and Auguſtus, who granted to its Inhabitants, the Honours and Immunities of Citizens of Rome.

The Parents of St. Paul were Jews of the Tribe of Benjamin; we find him deſcribed in Scripture by two Names, the one Hebrew, the other Latin, pro⯑bably referring both to his Jewiſh and Roman Capacity; the one Saul, a Name frequent in the Tribe of Benjamin, ever [210] ſince the firſt King of Iſrael of that Name was choſen out of that Tribe: In Me⯑mory whereof they were wont to give their Children that Name at their Cir⯑cumciſion: His other Name Paul was aſſum'd by him as ſome think at his Con⯑verſion, to ſhew his Humility, tho' others think he had two Names given him at his Circumciſion, Saul relating to his Jewiſh Original, and Paul referring to the Roman Corporation where he was born: Or if this Name was taken by him afterwards, it was probably done at his Converſion, according to the Cuſtom of the Hebrews, who us'd many Times upon extraordinary Occaſions, eſpecial⯑ly upon entring into a more ſtrict and religious Courſe of Life, to change their Names for new ones; which is alſo uſual with our Religious in ſome Orders, to change their Names, following therein this Apoſtle, who chang'd his Name from Saul to Paul after his coming into the Miniſtry; and yet ſome think he bor⯑row'd that Name from Sergius Paulus the Roman Lieutenant; But St. Chryſo⯑ſtom tells us, it was from his low Stature, being but three Cubits high; and there⯑fore ſays, Tricubitatis ille, tamen coelum aſcendit: I will not preſume to clear this Difficulty, but leave it to better Judg⯑ments.

[211] Saul in his Youth was brought up in the Schools of Tarſus, fully inſtructed in all the Liberal Arts and Sciences: He was alſo Taught a particular Trade, ac⯑cording to the known Maxim and Prin⯑ciple of the Jews, That he who does not teach his Son a Trade, learns him to be a Thief. They thought it not only fit, but a neceſſary Part of Education, for the wiſeſt and moſt learned Rabbins to be brought up to Manual Trades, where⯑by, if there was Occaſion, they might be able to maintain themſelves; which Cuſtom was taken up by the Chriſtians, eſpecially by the Monks of Primitive Times, and is continued to this Day a⯑mongſt the Reformed Orders in God's Church; who together with their ſtrict Profeſſion, and almoſt incredible Exer⯑ciſes of Devotion, many take upon them particular Trades, whereat they daily Work, not for maintaining themſelves in particular, but for the Benefit of their whole Community. The Trade of Saul was that of a Tent-maker, whereat he Wrought, even after he was call'd to be an Apoſtle; and tho' this was but a mean Courſe of Life, yet it was a gainful Trade, eſpecially in thoſe Countries where frequent uſe was made of Tents.

[211] Saul having ran thro' the whole Courſe of his Studies, and laid the ſure Foun⯑dations of human Learning at Tarſus, he was by his Parents ſent to Jeruſalem to be perfected in the Study of the Law, and put under the Tutorage of Gama⯑liel, who was a Doctor of Law, and reckon'd a Perſon of great Wiſdom and Prudence, a Man of chief Note and Au⯑thority in the Jewiſh Sanhedrim, and Preſident of it when our Bleſſed Saviour was brought before it. Under this great Maſter was Saul educated in the Know⯑ledge of the Law, wherein he made ſuch large and quick Improvements, that he ſoon excell'd his Fellow Pupils; and amongſt the various Sects at that time in Jeruſalem, he was ſpecially Edu⯑cated in the Principles and Inſtitutions of the Phariſees, of which Sect was both his Father and Maſter, whereof he became a moſt earneſt and zealous Pro⯑feſſor; and Joſephus, tho' a Phariſee, gives this following Character of them: ‘Lib. 171.3."That they were a crafty and ſubtil Generation of Men, and ſo perverſe even to Princes themſelves, that they would not fear many times to Affront and Oppoſe them; and ſo far had they inſinuated themſelves into the Affections and Eſtimations of the Po⯑pulacy, [213] that their good or ill Word was enough to make or blaſt any one with the People, who implicitely would believe them, let their Re⯑port be never ſo falſe or malicious:"’ Certain it is, They were infinitely Proud and Inſolent, Surly and Ill-natur'd, they hated all Mankind but themſelves, and cenſur'd thoſe who would not be of their Opinion and Way, as Reprobates. They were extream zealous to gather Proſelytes to their Party, not to make them more Religious, but more fierce and cruel, (much like ſome, who think all Religion confin'd within the Bounds of their own Sect, that none but they were the Godly, and that all other Per⯑ſons were Sons of the Earth) and there⯑fore they endeavour'd eſpecially to In⯑ſpire all their Party with a mighty Zeal and Fervency againſt all that differed from them; ſo that if any did but ſpeak a good Word of our Bleſſed Saviour, he ſhould preſently be proſecuted to Death.

Theſe dogged and ill-natur'd Princi⯑ples, together with their unmerciful Be⯑haviour, they endeavour'd to varniſh over with a more than ordinary Pretence and Profeſſion of Religion, and were eſpecially diligent, in what coſt them lit⯑tle, [214] the outward Inſtances of Religion, as frequent Faſting, long Praying, with demure and mortify'd Looks, in a whin⯑ing and affected Tone. Saul was deep⯑ly leavened with the active and fiery Genius of this Sect, not able to bear with any oppoſite Party in Religion, e⯑ſpecially if late or new; inſomuch, that when the Jews were reſolved to do Execution upon St. Stephen, Saul ſtood by and kept the Cloaths of them that did it; whether he was any farther en⯑gaged in his Death, we know not; but this was enough, loudly to proclaim his Approbation and Conſent, for God chief⯑ly reſpects the Heart; and if the Vote be paſſed there, that writes the Man guilty, tho' he ſtirs no farther, it being eaſie to murther a Man by a ſilent Wiſh, or a paſſionate Deſire. In all Moral Actions, God judges by the Will, and reckons the Man a Companion in the Sin, who, tho' poſſibly he may never actu⯑ally join in it, does yet inwardly applaud and like it.

The Storm thus begun, increas'd a⯑pace, and a violent Perſecution began to riſe, which miſerably afflicted and diſ⯑perſt the Chriſtians at Jeruſalem, in which Saul was a Prime Agent, raging about in all Parts with a furious and ungovern⯑able [215] Zeal, ſearching out the Chriſtians, beating them in the Synagogues, com⯑pelling many to Blaſpheme, impriſoning others, and procuring their Death: He was a ſort of Inquiſitor to the High Prieſt, by whom he was employ'd to find out thoſe Chriſtians who preach'd againſt the Law of Moſes; and after having made a ſtrange Havock at Jeru⯑ſalem, he addreſſed himſelf to the Sanhe⯑drim, and there took out a Commiſſion to go down and ranſack the Synagogue at Damaſcus, where many Chriſtians that were perſecuted fled for Shelter, Saul reſolving to bring up thoſe he found there to Jeruſalem, in order to their Puniſhment and Execution: But God who deſigned him for a Work of ano⯑ther Nature, ſtopt him in his Journey; for as he was travelling with his Com⯑panions upon the Road, not far from Damaſcus, on a ſudden, a Gleam of Light, which exceeded the Splendor of the Sun, darted from Heaven upon them, whereat being very ſtrangely amaz'd and confounded, they all fell to the Ground, and a Voice call'd to him, ſay⯑ing, Saul, Saul, Why perſecuteſt thou me? To which he reply'd, Lord, Who art thou? Who told him, He was Jeſus whom he perſecuted, becauſe what was [216] done to the Members, was done to the Head, that it was hard for him to kick againſt the Pricks: That he now ap⯑pear'd to him, to make Choice of him for an Apoſtle, and Witneſs of what he had now ſeen, and ſhould after hear, that he would ſtand by him, and pre⯑ſerve him, and make him a glorious Inſtrument for the Converſion of the Gentiles: This ſaid, he asked our Lord, What he would have him to do? Who bad him go into the City, where he ſhould receive his Anſwer. Saul's Com⯑panions, who were preſent at this Diſ⯑courſe, heard a confuſed Sound, but no diſtinct articulate Voice, neither ſaw they him that ſpoke to Saul; and pro⯑bably they being Ignorant of the He⯑brew Language, wherein Chriſt ſpoke to Saul, they heard the Words, but knew not the Meaning of them.

Thus, when Saul was waſting the Church, diſperſing the Diſciples, deſtroy⯑ing the Chriſtians, following them from the Synagogues into the Streets, from thence into their Houſes, when he breath⯑ed out Threatnings and Slaughter; the Lord without any Expoſtulation might have poured down Vengeance upon him, he might have commanded what Puniſh⯑ment he pleas'd to have ſerv'd the Exe⯑cution [217] of Wrath againſt him: But if ever Mercy and Judgment met together, here it was, Judicium miſericordiae, & miſericordia judicis, a Voice and a Stroak, the one ſtriking down to Earth, the other lifting up to Heaven, a Light ſhin⯑ing from Heaven, and a Light ſhining to direct him to Heaven, a Light ſhin⯑ing to him that was in Darkneſs and in the Shadow of Death, to bring him from the Snare of Darkneſs into the glorious Liberty of the Sons of God: He that was the Way met him in the Way, he that was the Light met him with a Light, he that was the Word met him with the Voice of a Word, Saul, Saul, Why per⯑ſecuteſt thou me?

It was a gracious Favour of the Lord to vouchſafe to Queſtion with him; but to call him by his Name, and to inge⯑minate that Name, that was a ſign of his great Affection and Commiſeration: It was a Voice indeed, the Voice of the Lord, mighty in Operation: This Voice ſtruck him from his Horſe to the Earth, ſtruck him from his Preſumption, Per⯑ſecuteſt thou me? Yet the Voice was not more Powerful than Merciful: It was (as Chryſologus ſays) Suaviter fortis, & fortiter ſuavis; the heavieſt Fall, and yet the happieſt Fall that ever any had; [218] it was his Fall and his Riſing. Thus a Dumbneſs unto Zachary, was not a dumb Inſtructor, it taught him Faith againſt another time; ſo Blindneſs ſent unto Saul, took away his Blindneſs, making him ſee more in the Ways of Life, than all his Learning gather'd at the Feet of Gamaliel could have Re⯑vealed unto him

Saul by this time was gotten up, but tho' he found his Feet, he loſt his Eyes, being ſtruck Blind with the extraordi⯑nary Brightneſs of the Light, and was therefore led by his Companions into Damaſcus, in which Condition he there remained three Days together Faſting; and at this Time we may probably ſup⯑poſe it was, that he had the Viſion and Extaſie mention'd by him.

There was at this time at Damaſcus, Ananias, one of the Seventy Diſciples, a very Devout Man, and probably the firſt Planter of the Chriſtian Church in Damaſcus, and tho' a Chriſtian, yet of great Repute amongſt the Jews: To him Chriſt appear'd, and directed him to the Street and Houſe where Saul of Tarſus then Lodged, who was then at Prayers, and had ſeen him in a Viſion coming to him, to lay his Hands upon him, that he might receive his Sight; [219] Ananias ſtartled at the Name of Saul, having heard of his bloody Temper and Practices, knowing upon what Errand he was come to that City, was ſore afraid: But Jeſus quickly made his Fears vaniſh, by telling him he miſtook the Man, that he was now become a choſen Veſſel to Preach the Goſpel both to Jews and Gen⯑tiles, and before the greateſt Potentates of the Earth, telling him what great Things he ſhould do and ſuffer for his Sake. Hereupon Ananias went forth⯑with to him, laid his Hands upon him, and told him, Jeſus had ſent him to him, that he might receive his Sight, and be filled with the Holy Spirit, which was no ſooner ſaid but done, and thick Films like Scales fell from his Eyes, and his Sight return'd; then he was Baptiz'd and ſolemnly initiated into the Chriſtian Faith; after which, he ſoon joyn'd him⯑ſelf to the Diſciples of that Place, to the great Joy and Wonder of the Church, that the Wolf ſhould ſo ſoon become a Lamb. He that was the Mouth of Blaſ⯑phemy, is become the Mouth of Chriſt: He that was the Inſtrument of Satan, the Organ of the Holy Ghoſt: As ſays St. Chryſoſtome, Being yet upon the Earth, he is an Angel; and being yet but a Man, he is already in Heaven. What was [220] done upon him wrought upon all the World; he was ſtruck Blind, and all the World ſaw the better for it.

St. Chryſoſtome calls him a Ʋniverſal Prieſt, that Sacrificed not Sheep and Goats, but even himſelf; and not only that prepar'd the whole World as a Sacrifice to God, but ſo abſolutely did he Sacrifice himſelf and his State in this World, as that he choſe rather to be Anathema, ſeparated from Chriſt, than that they ſhould; but whether that was not out of an over vehement and incon⯑ſiderate Zeal to his Bretheren, is too high a Point for me to undertake to judge.

After theſe Words, Saul, Saul, Why perſecuteſt thou me? he was no longer Saul, there was an immediate change of Affections: Here's another manner of Lycanthropy, than when a Lamb is made a Wolf; for here is a Wolf made a Lamb, a Bramble is made a Vine, un⯑profitable Tares become good Wheat, and the laſt is made firſt: He that was Born out of Time, hath not only the Perfection, but the Excellency of all his Lineaments. Saul was breathing Threat⯑nings and Slaughter againſt the Church, when he was in the height of his Fury, Chriſt laid hold on him; this was for the [221] moſt part Chriſt's Method of Curing: When the Sea was in a tempeſtuous Rage, when the Waters cover'd the Ship, and even ſhaked that which could re⯑move Mountains, even the Faith of the Diſciples, then Chriſt rebukes the Wind and commands a Calm: When the Sun was gone out as a Gyant to run his Courſe, (as David ſpeaks) then God by the Mouth of another Joſuah, bids the Sun ſtand ſtill: When the un⯑clean Spirit foam'd and fum'd, tore and rent the poſſeſſed Perſons, then Chriſt commanded them to go out: Chriſt ſtaid not here till Saul being made drunk with Blood was caſt into a Slumber, as ſatiſ⯑fied with the Blood of Chriſtians, in the midſt of his Fit Chriſt gave him Phy⯑ſick, in the heat of his Madneſs he re⯑claims him.

St. Paul gives this Evidence againſt himſelf, I perſecuted this way unto Death; What could he ſay more againſt himſelf? And then ſays Chriſt to this Tempeſt be quiet, to this glaring Sun ſtand ſtill, to this unclean Spirit come forth And in this Senſe St. Paul calls himſelf aborti⯑vum, a Perſon born out of Seaſon: For whereas the other Diſciples and Apoſtles had a ſort of a Growth under Chriſt, and were firſt his Diſciples, and after his Apoſtles: St. Paul was born a Man, an [222] Apoſtle, not carved out as the reſt in Time, but an Apoſtle poured out, and caſt in a Mould, as Adam was a perfect Man in an inſtant; ſo was St Paul an Apoſtle, ſo ſoon as Chriſt took him in Hand: For St. Paul was not in the Number of the Apoſtles at the Deſcent the Holy Ghoſt; But then he had more than an equivalent Evidence of his Miſ⯑ſion; For when he travel'd from Jeru⯑ſalem to Damaſcus, the Heavens were open'd, and our Bleſſed Saviour himſelf ſpake to him, whereupon the Company were aſtoniſhed, and St. Paul ſtruck Blind with the Glory of the Viſion; and afterwards being cured by a Miracle at Damaſcus, he had no Aſſiſtance from the reſt of the Apoſtles, his Inſtructions came all from Chriſt immediately. And it cannot be deny'd that St. Paul in ſome Kind, and upon ſome Subjects, is as Elo⯑quent as ever Man was, not inferior to Demoſthenes, whom ſome think he had read, or ſome other excellent Orators. His Speech to Agrippa hath as much Force and Addreſs, and much more Great⯑neſs of Mind and noble Freedom, than any thing we meet with in the beſt of the Heathen Orators: 'Tis true, the Advantage of St. Paul's Education was great, he had his Cauſe and his Maſter to aſſiſt him, but yet he met with great [223] Difficulties and Hazards in the Execu⯑tion of his Function: For he was to oppoſe the Religion of the Jews, to alter the Cuſtoms which Moſes had de⯑livered, and to decry the Expectation of a Temporal Meſſiah; he charged them with the higheſt Crimes imaginable, and told them plainly, That they had be⯑tray'd the Saviour of the World, and kill'd the Prince of Life: And this he told the obſtinate Jews, who were hard⯑ned in Prejudice, and bigotted to Error and Superſtition, for which they pleaded Antiquity: St. Paul declar'd to the San⯑hedrim, that Jeſus whom they had mur⯑ther'd was rais'd from the Dead, was a Prince and Saviour, and that it was from him they were to expect Remiſſion of their Sins; with this ſevere ſharpneſs St. Paul treated Faelix Viceroy of Ju⯑dea, to whom he talked ſo freely and ſo pertinently, that the Viceroy forgot his Character, and trembled before him.

And yet the Truth is, the Beginnings of our Religion were very unpromiſing; the firſt Undertakers began with a ſlen⯑der Force, and there was a ſtrange Diſ⯑proportion between the Cauſe and the Effect; for humanly ſpeaking, if twelve private Men ſhould now make an Expe⯑dition againſt the Grand Signior, they would in all Probility be as likely to ſuc⯑ceed, [224] as the Apoſtles were in their En⯑terprize when our Saviour left them. But herein certainly the Providence of God, for the Prevention of all Doubts and Scruples was great, in that he would not lay the Foundation of Chriſtian Re⯑ligion, as not in the force of Arms, ſo neither of Eloquence and artificial Speech, which is often inſiſted upon by St. Paul, Not with Wiſdom, nor the Ex⯑cellency of Speech, nor with enticing Words: And it is worthy our Conſide⯑ration, how it was poſſible for a few poor Men, ſo low in Intereſt and Edu⯑cation, to break through the Oppoſition of Jews and Gentiles, bafle their Learn⯑ing, deſpiſe their Powers, and make them renounce their Ancient Belief, and that Life they were moſt in love with. But tho' they were ſhort in their natural Capacities, their wonderful Suc⯑ceſs is an undeniable Proof of a Di⯑vine Power that aſſiſted them; as Chry⯑ſologus moſt admirably tells us. Petrus & Andreas, Jacobus & Joannes, ger⯑manitas combinata, ingeminata paupe⯑ras, in Apoſtolorum principes eliguntur, pauperes cenſu, loco humiles, viles arte, obſcuri vitâ, labore communes, addicti vigiliis, fluctibus mancipati, negati ho⯑noribus, injuriis dati, ſed in iſtis quan⯑tùm vilis mundanus videbatur aſpectus, [225] praetioſus tantùm animas Dei intuitus tunc ridebat. Erant cenſu pauperes, ſed innocentiâ locupletes, loco humiles, ſed ſanctitate ſublimes, viles arte, ſed ſimplicitate praetioſi, obſcuri vitâ, ſed vitae merito perlucentes, labore com⯑munes, ſed propoſito ſingulares, addicti vigiliis, ſed ad coeleſtes victorias jam vocati, fluctibus mancipati, ſed fluctibus non demerſi, negati honoribus, dicati magis honoribus, non negati, injuriis dati, ſed non injuriis relicti. Pertrus Chryſologus. Sermo 28. which ſhew the particular Gifts that Chriſt had given to his Apoſtles.

Now to magnifie his Mercy and Glory more particularly to St. Paul, and to take away all Occaſion of Deſpair, Chriſt did upon ſo many great Diſadvantages draw St. Paul to him, whom he brought to that remarkable height on a ſudden, that the Church celebrates the Conver⯑ſion of no Man but this: She does not conſider the Martyrs as Born till they Die, till the World ſee how they per⯑ſever'd to the End, ſhe takes no Know⯑ledge of them: Wherefore ſhe calls the Days of their Death, their Birth-Days: She does not reckon they are Born till they Die: But of St. Paul ſhe makes aſſur'd the firſt Day, nay the firſt Mi⯑nute, [226] the firſt Moment, and therefore celebrates his Converſion only. And as Chriſt dealt with St Paul, ſo God deals with us, he will firſt caſt us down be⯑fore he will raiſe us up, he will firſt break us before he will make us in his Faſhion. The Lord only knows how to Wound us out of Love, more than that how to Wound us into Love, not only with him that Wounds us, but into Love with the Wound it ſelf, with the very Affliction that he inflicts upon us. The Lord knows how to ſtrike us ſo, that we ſhall lay hold on the Hand that ſtrikes us, and kiſs the Inſtrument that wounds us: God brings to the Gate of Death, and by that Gate he leads us to eternal Life: He kills us here that we may live for ever; he puts us low here that we may be exalted hereafter: And he hath not diſcover'd, but made that Northern Paſſage to paſs from that Frozen Sea of Calamity and Tribulation, to the heaven⯑ly Jeruſalem. There are ſome Fruits that ripen not without Froſts; there are ſome Natures that diſpoſe not themſelves to God but by Afflictions; And as Na⯑ture looks for the Seaſon, and does not produce any Thing before; ſo Grace looks for the Aſſent of the Soul, and does not perfect the whole Work, till [227] that come. It is Nature that brings the Seaſon, but Grace the Aſſent, and till the Seaſon for the Fruit, till the Aſſent of the Soul come, all is not done.

This ſhould be our Conſolation, that how low ſoever God is pleas'd to caſt us, tho' it be to the Earth, yet he doth not do it to caſt us down, but to bring us home. And Death it ſelf is not ſo much a baniſhing us out of this World, as it is a Viſitation of our Friends that lie in the Earth; neither are any nearer of Kin to us than the Earth it ſelf, and the Worms of the Earth.

Of NOBILITY.

OBSERVING the ſeveral Alterations in Nobility, we ſhall find Four Principal Actors on the Theatres of Great Families: The Be⯑ginner, Advancer, Continuer, and Ruiner. The Beginner, is he, who either by his Virtues, Merits, or Riches, refineth himſelf from the Droſs of the Vulgar, and layeth the Foundation of his Houſe: An excellent Workman in⯑deed, who not only brings his Tools, but maketh his Materials: But yet An⯑cient Nobility ſeems no juſt Ground to be Proud, and have a high Opinion of our ſelves, becauſe it's borrow'd. Thoſe great Actions, wherein we had no Share, cannot be any part of our Commenda⯑tion, eſpecially if we have not Abilities to imitate them;

[229] That Man muſt be very Poor, who hath nothing of his own to appear in, but muſt Patch up his Pedigree with the Relicks of the Dead, and with the Tomb-ſtones and Monuments of his Anceſtors. Next comes the Advancer of Nobility, who improves the Patri⯑mony of Honour he receiveth, and what his Anceſtor found Glaſs and made Cry⯑ſtal, he finds Cryſtal and makes it Pearl: Indeed, if a Man could bequeath his Virtues, Merits and Courage, by Will, and ſettle his good Senſe, Learning and Reſolution, upon his Children, as cer⯑tainly as he can his Lands, a brave An⯑ceſtor would be a mighty Privilege and great Advantage to his Poſterity. Next is the Continuer of Nobility, who keep⯑eth his Nobility alive, and paſſes it to his Children, neither marring nor mending it, but ſends it to his Son as he receiv'd it from his Father: Now this Advantage only by Birth is often the effect of a Sloathful and Effeminate Life, when Men will attempt nothing, either in the Field, or in their Cloſets; when they will neither Trouble themſelves with Study; nor be contented to expoſe themſelves to the Weather, which Lazineſs renders them inſignificant to the great Purpoſes of Life; ſuch Men think it a great [230] Addition to their Birth, to ſtand at the Bottom of a long Parchment Pedigree, and that their Blood hath run through the Channels of Honour for many Ages: But alas! This Antiquity conſiſts only in the continual Frugality of the Family, who being once poſſeſt of an Eſtate, had the Diſcretion to keep it, and ſo hath the Advantage of Living in a better Houſe, and Eating and Drinking better than thoſe who want a Fortune. Indeed, if Ancient Nobility did convey to us any Advantage of Body or Mind, and that every Generation grew wiſer, ſtronger, handſomer, or longer-liv'd than other; if the Breed of a Man's Family were thus improv'd, then indeed the Quality of their Arms would be contrary to their Cloaths, the one would always grow better, the other worſe for Wearing. The laſt is the Ruiner of Families, who baſely degenerates from his Anceſtors; ſo that Nobility in him hath run ſo far from its firſt Starting that it's tired, and whilſt he lives he is no better than his Grandfather's Tomb, without carv'd over with honourable Titles, within full of Emptineſs and Corruption: Such noble Men as theſe laſt, look upon it as one of the beſt Perfections of Nature, to Dreſs themſelves well, and to come [231] handſomly into a Room; but let me tell theſe Ceremony-Gentlemen, that I think it much better, that a Man's Parts ſhould lie in his Head rather than in his Heels. Indeed, in ſome Perſons well-born there is a peculiar Nobleneſs of Temper in them. A Man may diſtinguiſh their Quality by the Air of their Faces, which are good Accompliſhments, and recom⯑mend them to Company with ſome Ad⯑vantage; but then Men muſt not be fond of theſe ſmall Formalities, nor magnifie them too much. I know in England, that a plain Gentleman of an ancient Family is accounted a Perſon of better Quality than a new made Knight, tho' the Reaſon of their Knighthood was ne⯑ver ſo Meritorious; and therefore many ſuch Gentlemen have refus'd to be Knighted, but I think they were much in the wrong: For the Reaſon why thoſe who are placed in that Degree of Honour, precede others who are afterwards rai⯑ſed in the ſame height, is for Encourage⯑ment of Induſtry, to make Men for⯑ward to exert their earlieſt Endeavours to deſerve well of the Prince or State. It is but reaſonable, that Merit ſhould be conſider'd, of what Date ſoever it is, and a worthy Action ought as well to be conſider'd and rewarded, as one [232] of the ſame Kind was a thouſand Years ſince: If the Inheritors of Ancient Ho⯑nour have not by Perſonal Additions im⯑prov'd that Stock which was granted to their Anceſtors, there is no Reaſon it ſhould be valued above the ſame Degree (Precedency excepted) which is given now: For to affirm, That a Family rais'd to Nobility by King Charles or King James, is not as good as one rais'd by the Conqueror, is a Reflection upon thoſe Kings; and it ſuppoſes their Judg⯑ment and Authority leſs conſiderable, and that the Fountain of Honour is dried up. Honour is not like China Diſhes, which muſt lie ſome Ages under Ground before it comes to any Perfe⯑ction. In taking a true Eſteem of No⯑bility, we are not ſo much to conſider its Antiquity, as the Merit of him to whom it was firſt granted, and the Di⯑ſtinction which the Prince put upon it.

No Man will affirm an old Shilling to be better than a new Half-Crown, or an old braſs Medal dug out of the Ground long ſince, to be more Valua⯑ble than the ſame Weight in Gold. If a Man were to pay a Debt, the late King James's Image upon a Piece of Gold would be more ſerviceable to him than Caeſar's old Coins, which are only valu'd [233] for their Uſefulneſs, becauſe they often rectify Chronology, and explain Hi⯑ſtory, and retrieve us ſeveral material Parts of Learning, which had otherwiſe been loſt.

Conquerors made Soldiers ambitious to follow them, by ſharing the Fruits of their Conqueſts with them; and when their Succeſſors had not Eſtates ſuffici⯑ent to Reward all the glorious Actions and eminent Services which Perſons did for them, being perſuaded that a Man of Courage values nothing ſo much as Honour, which diſtinguiſhes him from other Men, they invented Knighthood, which without exhauſting their Trea⯑ſure, would gain them the Honour of their Subjects, and inflame all others with an extream Deſire to make them⯑ſelves worthy of the ſame Honour; and it was for this Reaſon that they created Knights, either juſt before the Battle to make them ingage more reſolutely, or preſently after it, to recompence thoſe that had the greateſt Hand in the Vi⯑ctory. Thus Nobility is a Quality ac⯑quir'd by virtuous Actions and emi⯑nent Services, which ſome Perſons have performed to the Prince and State; and tho' Fortune ſhould have more Influence than Merit, upon the diſpenſing of theſe [234] Qualities, yet the ſame Judgment is ſtill to be made, becauſe Princes are ſubject to their Paſſions, rewarding more boun⯑tifully and raiſing higher ſome of their Servants than others: But if a Man be advanced for engaging himſelf in an un⯑juſt Quarrel, he hath no better Pretence to Honour than a reſolute Highwayman may challenge; and the Marks of all Favours that either come by ſervile Flat⯑tery, or a dextrous Application to the Vices of their Princes, are rather infa⯑mous than honourable to their Poſteri⯑ty, being enobled for thoſe Qualities for which they ſhould have been pu⯑niſh'd: It is a leſſening to a Man's No⯑bility when the Reaſons or Grounds of it are unknown, and when the firſt Prin⯑ciples of Honour happen to be thus Courſe and Counterfeit, 'tis not in the Power of Time to mend them, when the Riſe of a Family is owing to ſuch an Original; a Man has a particular Rea⯑ſon not to flouriſh too much upon the Gifts of his Fortune, ſince there is ſo much Alloy in it. Nobility rais'd by Arms, when lawfully undertaken, is cer⯑tainly more great than that which comes by Commerce. The Profeſſion of a Soldier has a particular Title to Ho⯑nour: It is more Noble than the reſt; [235] and no wiſe Man will ever envy or leſ⯑ſen the juſt Character of Military Glo⯑ry: The Courage of a Soldier does his Country not much Service after his Death; the Conſequences of his Valour ſeldom reach beyond his Death; ſo there are few the better for it except thoſe he engages for. A Martial Man, unleſs poliſh'd by Learning, is uſually ſour in his Behaviour. The old Heroes were none of the genteeleſt Men; A⯑chilles, tho' a great Soldier, was very rugged and moroſe in his Converſa⯑tion. The Advantages of Learning are certainly very great; without ſome ſhare of this, War it ſelf cannot be ſucceſs⯑ful; nay, without the Aſſiſtance of Let⯑ters, a Man can never be qualified for any conſiderable Poſt in the Camp. For Courage without Conduct is not fit to Command, and many times does more hurt than good. It is Learning that teaches a General the Succeſſes and Events of Actions in former Ages: It inſtructs him how to take Advantage of his Enemies, and to avoid thoſe Miſcar⯑riages which have been fatal to others before him: It teaches him how to For⯑tifie and Aſſault, how to manage the Difference of Ground and Weather; [236] and the Advantages of Learning are more laſting than thoſe of Arms. Learn⯑ing in a Commander is like a Diamond ſet in Gold: I do not intend that a Commander ſhould be verſed in thor⯑ny School-Queſtions, but in Hiſtory, which is a ſilent Study and reſerv'd Work: Thoſe that are not verſed in it, have Cricks in their Necks, and can't look backward, nor ſee behind them the Actions which long ſince were per⯑form'd: Hiſtory makes a young Man to be old, without gray Hairs, being privileged with the Experience of Age, without the Infirmities or Inconveni⯑ences thereof: Nay, it is not only ma⯑king Things paſt, preſent, but inables one to make a rational Conjecture of Things to come: For this World affords no new Accidents, but in the ſame Senſe wherein we call it a New Moon, which is the Old one in another ſhape, and yet no other than what hath been formerly. Old Actions return again, furbiſhed over with ſome new and diffe⯑rent Circumſtances.

Thoſe that are only Continuers of their Honour or Nobility, deceive the Deſires and Hopes of their Friends: Good is not good, when proceeding [237] from them, from whom far better is expected. Youthful Virtues are ſo pro⯑miſing, that they cannot come off at riper Age with Credit, without perform⯑ing ſomething that may advance the Honour of their Family, and build their Houſes one Story higher than they found them.

If our Anceſtors have gain'd Honour by the War, we ſhould enquire whether it were in a juſt Cauſe, and whether Enterprizes or Advantages were gain'd by Bravery, or whether by Chance or Treachery; for a great many Perſons have ventur'd far, and yet continue in their firſt Obſcurity; and I have known ſome in my Time, that are now grown great Men, only by having the good Fortune to fall under the Notice of their General, and being ſent by him with the good News of a Victory, they have been highly Rewarded and Advanced. Such Men as theſe are thrown up Hill by another Man's Arms, and made con⯑ſiderable by Chance-Medly, their Me⯑rits having been very inconſiderable, or rather nothing at all, when other Men in the ſame Battle perform'd much more ſignal Service than that former Perſon; yet their Courage was never Rewarded, [238] but loſt in the Crowd and Tumult of the Action, and got nothing but Blows for their Pains; whereas the other are be⯑come Great, not by their Genealogy, but by good Fortune, and having their Tongues well hung, and telling their Story handſomely, which was their great⯑eſt Merit. Men that are thus preferr'd, ſhould remember that there were others which ventur'd further, and perform'd more conſiderable Service, which miſ⯑carried as to any private Advantage, be⯑cauſe they were not ſo lucky to give an Account to him that was able to Re⯑ward: So that we daily ſee many Per⯑ſons, well furniſh'd for Employments and Honour, go out of the World, as obſcurely as they came into it, only for want of a good Occaſion to bring them into Light: Now ſuch Men as before⯑mention'd, who have receiv'd ſo valua⯑ble Conſideration for their ſmall or no Services, ought to acquieſce, and not preſs too much, being Gentlemen only of the firſt Head, and ſhould therefore manage their Advancement obligingly, for by treating People roughly, they do but expoſe themſelves, and reproach their own former Condition.

[239]Now he that is truly Noble, hath far different Sentiments, his Greatneſs is eaſie, obliging, and agreeable, ſo that none have juſt Cauſe to wiſh him Leſs. He is ſenſible it is the Part of true No⯑bility to be affable in his Converſe, and generous in his Temper: He is equally remov'd from the extreams of Pride and Baſeneſs, and as Proſperity does not make him Haughty, ſo neither does Adverſity make him Demean himſelf, he ſcorns either to trample upon thoſe below him, or to cringe to the greateſt Monarch.

Ancient Nobility is very glorious, when 'tis found with Virtue, which adds new Splendour to the Honour of his Houſe, and challenges Reſpect from all; but Lewd Greatneſs is nothing but the Rigour of Vice, having both Mind and Merits to be uncontroulably Lewd: And a debauched Son of a Noble Family, is one of the intollerable Burthens of the Earth; and the good Education he hath had, is an Auxiliary to his Shame, and the Brightneſs of his Anceſtors makes his Darkneſs more notorious. To be Good and Great is an excellent Com⯑mendation; but he is more to be valued that is Good whoſe Father expired a [240] Clown, than the vitious Son of the great⯑eſt Lord, tho' his Lineal Deſcent be never ſo high; For Virtue in a Man of obſcure Parents is like an unpoliſh'd Diamond which lies among Pebbles, which tho' neglected by the Vulgar, yet the wiſe Lapidary takes it up as a Jewel.

Of CONTENTMENT.

IF Peace, as moſt believe, eſtabliſhes the Throne of Happineſs, and ſafely guards it, 'tis Contentment alone that crowns it; if Safety be the Fort, Contentment is the Magazine. Peace without Contentment is but Le⯑thargy, Safety without it is but a Pri⯑ſon, but Contentment without both is a Kingdom: If without following Peace, a Man becomes his own Enemy, if with⯑out endeavouring Safety he be his own Traytor, without enjoying Contentment he is his own Troubler; the Diſcontented Man hath neither Neighbour, nor Friend, nor indeed himſelf. 'Tis not in the rich Fool's Barns, nor in Ahab's raviſh'd Vine⯑yard, nor in Achitophel's knack of Wit, no nor in wiſer Solomon's dear-bought Experience; no, 'tis a quiet Content⯑ment of Spirit that a Man poſſeſſes him⯑ſelf. A Man may pick a Quarrel with himſelf in the midſt of all worldly Hap⯑pineſs, [242] without this Charm of Self-Con⯑tentment: The Truth is, Diſcontent is the Bone that the Devil throws into eve⯑ry Man's Mouth to gnaw upon, and break his Teeth with. You ſhall hard⯑ly find any Man, that complains not of ſome Want, tho' it be but Want of his own Will; Things go not right, if they run not upon the vertiginous Wheels of his own Fancy; the poor Man thinks the World unequally dealt, and the rich Man thinks ſo too, becauſe the Care, together with the Keys, hang ſo heavi⯑ly about him; the Schollar thinks the Soldier hath all the Money, and he a⯑gain, that the other hath all the Eaſe; the ſingle Man wants a Wife, and the marry'd Man wants no leſs in that he wants not a Wife; and Men ſtrive to vexthemſelves by their own Diſcontents, and flatter themſelves in not doing what they ſhould do, by preſuming what they would do, were but their Condition o⯑ther than it is, not conſidering that every Eſtate hath its Weights as well as Wings, and that the true Pleaſure of Life is to be free from Perturbation, to enjoy the preſent (without any anxious Depen⯑dance upon the future) not to amuſe our ſelves either with Hopes or Fears, but to reſt ſatisfied with what we have, for [243] he that is ſo wants nothing; the great Bleſſings of Mankind are within us, and within our reach, but we ſhut our Eyes, and like People in the dark, we fall foul upon every thing we ſearch for, with⯑out finding it, an equality of Mind makes every Man his own Supporter; whereas he that is born up by any thing elſe may fall; it is a contented Mind that makes a Man Happy; there muſt be a Con⯑ſtancy in all Conditions, with ſuch an indifferency for the Bounties of Fortune, that either with them, or without them, we may live Contentedly.

It is the part of a great Mind to be temperate in Proſperity, and reſolute in Adverſity. There are ſome that will cloſe and grapple with ill Fortune, and will come off victorious; but there are others again ſo delicate, that they can⯑not ſo much as bear a ſcandalous Report; which is the ſame thing, as if one ſhould quarrel for being juſtled in a Crowd, or daſhed as he walks in the Streets: A brave Man muſt expect to be toſſed, for he is to ſteer his Courſe in the Teeth of Fortune, and to work againſt Wind and Weather.

The greateſt Cauſe of Impatience grows not ſo much from the Force of Calamity, as from the Reluctance of the [244] Mind of him that ſuffers it; this raiſes the Billows within, for tho' the Calami⯑ty may be rough and beyond our Power to extricate; yet when it meets with a Mind as tumultuous as the Calamity, it raiſes a Storm, as when the Wind and Tyde are contrary, which may endan⯑ger the Veſſel.

He that violently contends againſt Miſ⯑fortunes, is like one bound with ſtrong Bonds, his ſtruggling gauls him more than his Bonds would otherwiſe do, and a proud Spirit contributes more to his own Uneaſineſs, than his Croſs does: But Calmneſs of Mind breaks the force of the Calamity, and the contented Man looks upon his worſt Condition to be leſs than he deſerves, for ſo long as we live in this World, there is no Condi⯑tion ſo troubleſome but it may be worſe: If we be Poor and under a Cloud of Ig⯑nominy and Reproach, yet if we have our Health of Body and Compoſedneſs of Mind, that's more than we deſerve; nay, if we be under a Complication of Misfortunes, ſo long as our Lives are ſpared, there's Hope, and we muſt be Patient under all Conditions, ſubmitting our ſelves intirely to the Will of God; and that not only as an Act of Neceſſity and Duty, but as an Act of Choice and [245] Prudence, ſince all the Succeſſes of our Life are under the Government of Providence, and we may be aſſured, that God will either in due time re⯑move them, or ſupport us under them.

Temporal Afflictions are Spiritual Phy⯑ſick, being adminiſtred by the no leſs tender than skillful Hand of Providence; but we, like fooliſh Patients, embitter our Condition, by chewing the Pills which we ſhould ſwallow; we mingle our Paſſions with our Croſſes, and thro' Impatience ſtruggle with our Yoak, thereby making our Burthen more hea⯑vy, and our Afflictions the more grie⯑vous: God's Love is fatherly for Eaſe, as well as motherly for Tender⯑neſs; as a Father he will ſometimes hum⯑ble his Children by Afflictions, ſuſtain⯑ing them with his Hand, not as a Mo⯑ther, ſtill indulging them in Delights: He does always ſend his Staff with his Rod, his Grace with his Affliction, to Inſtruct, Support and Comfort us Where⯑fore it's well ſaid, That all the Troubles and Diſtreſſes that befal us, tho' bitter Arrows, yet they come from the ſweet Hand of God, whoſe ſpecial Providence over us is ſuch, that he afflicts us in Mercy: God's Patronage and Protecti⯑on is not like that of Men, who as Sal⯑vian [246] ſays, They offend the Miſerable by defending them; like the thorny Buſh, to which in the Storm when the poor Sheep run for Shelter, they loſe their Fleeces: But God is a Sun and a Shield to thoſe in Affliction; A Sun to en⯑lighten them in the midſt of Darkneſs, and a Shield to defend them in the midſt of Dangers; and by his Spiritual Providence he then ſaves, when we ſeem to be paſt Succour; and there⯑fore we have reaſon, not only patient⯑ly to ſubmit, but cheerfully and con⯑tentedly to bear any Condition which he diſpenſes, and with an implicite Faith to reſign our Wills to his, be⯑ing aſſured it is infinitely more Wiſe and Juſt than ours.

Seneca ſays, Optimi milites ad duriſ⯑ſima mittuntur; the ſtouteſt Soldiers are put upon the hotteſt Service; and ſo the beſt Men upon the ſharpeſt Suffe⯑rings. It is a mark of a General's E⯑ſteem, when he puts an Officer upon a Poſt of Danger, who does not ſay his General uſes him ill, but does him Ho⯑nour; and ſo ſhould we ſay that are commanded to encounter Difficulties: A Maſter gives his hopeful Schollars the hardeſt Leſſons; ſo God deals with the moſt generous Spirits; and we are [247] not to look upon the croſs Encounters of Fortune, as a Cruelty, but as a Con⯑teſt. God tries and hardens us, the fa⯑miliarity of Misfortunes brings us the Contempt of them, and that Part is ſtrongeſt which is moſt exerciſed; the Seaman's Hand is callous, the Soldier's Arm is ſtrong, the Tree that is expoſed to the Wind takes the beſt Root. Thoſe People that live in a perpetual Winter, in extremity of Froſt and Want, where a Cave, a Lock of Straw, or a few Leaves, is all their Covering, and wild Beaſts their Nouriſhment; all this by Cuſtom is not only made tollerable, but when once 'tis taken up by Neceſſity, by little and little it becomes Pleaſant to them. Why ſhould we then account that Condition of Life a Calamity, which is the Lot of many Nations? Our Life is a Warfare; and what brave Man would not rather chuſe to be in a Tent than in a Shambles? Fortune ſeems to encounter a fearful Man, there's no Honour in the Victory, where there's no Danger in the Way to it.

She tries Mutius by Fire, Rutilius by Baniſhment, Socrates by Priſon, Cato by Death; 'Tis only in adverſe Fortune and bad Times, that we find great Ex⯑amples: Mutius thought himſelf Hap⯑pier [248] with his Hand in the Flame, than if it had been in the Boſom of his Mi⯑ſtreſs: He was a Man only of a Mili⯑tary Courage, without the help either of Philoſophy or Letters; who when he found he had kill'd the Secretary inſtead of Porſenna the Prince, burnt his Right Hand to Aſhes for the Miſtake, and held his Arm in the Flame till it was taken away by his very Enemies. And Porſenna did more eaſily Pardon Mutius for his intent to kill him, than Mutius forgave himſelf for miſſing of his Aim: He might have done a Luckier Thing but never a Braver. Metellus ſuffer'd Exile reſo⯑lutely, Rutilius cheerfully; Socrates diſ⯑puted in the Danger; and tho' he might have eſcaped, refuſed it, to ſhew the World how eaſie a thing it was to ſub⯑due the two great Terrours of Mankind, Death and Pain. The Action of Ruti⯑lius was commended by his very Ene⯑mies, who upon a glorious and publick Principle choſe rather to loſe his Coun⯑try, than to return from Baniſhment; the only Man who deny'd any thing to Sylla the Dictator, who recalled him; but he not only refus'd to come, but retired farther off: Let them, ſays he, who think Baniſhment a Misfortune, live Slaves at Rome, under the imperious [249] Cruelties of Sylla; He that ſets a Price upon the Heads of Senators, and after a Law of his own Inſtitution againſt Cut-Throats, becomes the greateſt himſelf. Is it not better for a Man to live abroad in Exile, than to be maſſacred at home? 'Tis not the Torment, but the Cauſe we are to conſider; and in ſuffering for a good Cauſe, the more Pain the more Renown; and we muſt look upon our Baniſhment and Hardſhips as Acts of Providence, which ſuffers Particulars many Times to be wounded, for Con⯑ſervation of the whole: Beſides, God chaſtizes ſome People under appearance of Bleſſing them, turning their Proſpe⯑rity to their Ruin.

What was Regulus the worſe becauſe Fortune made choice of him for an emi⯑nent Inſtance of Patience; he was thrown into a Caſe of Wood, ſtuck round on the inſide with pointed Nails, ſo that which way ſoever he turned his Body it reſted upon his Wounds; his Eye-lids were cut off to keep him waking, and yet Mecaenas was not happier upon his Bed than Regulus upon his Torments. It hath pleaſed the Gods, ſaith he, to ſingle me out for an Experiment of the Force of humane Nature. Indeed no Man knows his own Strength or Value but [250] by being put to the Proof; the Pilot is try'd in a Storm, the Soldier in a Battel: No Man can be happy that does not ſtand firm againſt all Contingencies and Miſ⯑fortunes, for the more we ſtruggle with our Neceſſities we draw the Knot the harder, the more the Bird flutters in the Snare, the ſurer he is caught; ſo that the beſt way is to ſubmit and lie ſtill, under this double Conſideration, that the Pro⯑ceedings of God are unqueſtionable, and his Decrees not to be revoked. That Man is only Happy that is unmov'd with any external Misfortune, or at leaſt ſo little mov'd, that the keeneſt Arrow in the Quiver of Fortune is but as the prick of a Needle to him rather than a Wound, and all her Weapons fall upon him as Hail upon the Roof of a Houſe, that crackles and skip off again without any Damage to the Inhabitant.

Some Philoſophers have ſearch'd ſo far for Arguments of Comfort againſt Pain, as to doubt whether there was any ſuch thing as Senſe of Pain; and yet when any great Evil hath befaln them, they could ſigh, and groan, and cry out as loud as other Men. Others have held that Afflictions are no real Evils but only in Opinion, and there⯑fore a wiſe Man ought not to be trou⯑bled [251] at them: But he muſt be a very wiſe Man that can forbear being trou⯑bled at things that are troubleſome. Others would delude this Trouble by a graver way of Reaſoning, viz. that theſe things are fatal, and therefore we ought not to be troubled at them, it being in vain to be troubled at what we cannot help. But Auguſtus made a ſharp Reply to one that miniſtred this Comfort to him, Hoc ipſum eſt, ſays he, quod me male habit. This was ſo far from giving any Eaſe to his Mind, that it was the very thing that troubled him. But the beſt Moral Argument of Patience is, the Advantage of Patience it ſelf: That is, to bear Evils as quietly as we can is the way to make them lighter and eaſier; but to toſs, and fling, and to be reſtleſs, is good for no⯑thing but to fret and inrage our Pain; 'tis like Men in a Feaver, who infinite⯑ly increaſe their Heat by their tumb⯑ling and toſſing more than if they lay ſtill; and thus we gall our Sores, and make the Burthen that is upon us ſit more uneaſie, and like the Ship that is not broken by the Rock but by its own vi⯑olent Motion againſt it; and therefore we muſt ſo manage our ſelves under [252] Afflictions, as not to make them more grievous than indeed they are.

If we give way to our Paſſions, we do but gratifie our ſelves for the pre⯑ſent, in order to our future Diſquiet; but if we reſiſt and conquer them, we lay the Foundation of perpetual Peace and Tranquility in our Minds. The more we gratifie our Luſts, the more craving they will be; Creſcit indulgens ſibi diras hydrops, every Luſt has a kind of hydropick Diſtemper, the more we drink the more we ſhall thirſt, ſo that by retrenching our inordinate Deſires we do not rob our ſelves of any Pleaſures, but only the trouble of farther Diſſatisfacti⯑on.

He that enjoys the greateſt Happineſs in this World, does ſtill want one Hap⯑pineſs more to ſecure him for the fu⯑ture what he poſſeſſes at preſent; and if the Enjoyments of this Life were cer⯑tain, yet they are unſatisfying; it is a hard thing that every thing in this World can trouble us, but nothing can give us Satisfaction. I know not how it is, but either we or the things of this World, or both, are ſo fantaſtical, that we can neither be well with theſe things nor without them: If we be hungry we are in Pain, and if we be full we are un⯑eaſie; [253] if we are poor we think our ſelves miſerable, and if we be rich we com⯑monly really are ſo; if we are in a low Condition we fret and murmur, if we chance to get up and are raiſed to Greatneſs we are many times farther from Content than before; ſo that we purſue the Happineſs of this World juſt as little Children chaſe Birds, when we think we are very near it, and have it almoſt in our Hands, it flies farther from us than it was at firſt: Indeed the En⯑joyments of this World are ſo far from affording us Satisfaction, as the ſweeteſt of them are moſt apt to ſatiate and cloy us: All the Pleaſures of this World are ſo contriv'd as to yield us very little Happineſs; if they go off ſoon they ſignify nothing, and if they ſtay long we are ſick of them: After a full Draught of any ſenſual Pleaſure, we preſently loath it, and hate it as much after the Enjoy⯑ment as we ſearched it and longed for it in Expectation: But the Delights of the other World, as they ſtill give us full Satisfaction, ſo we ſhall never be weary of them, every Repetition of them will be accompanied with a new Pleaſure and Contentment: In the Fe⯑licities of Heaven two things will be reconciled, which never met together in [254] any ſenſual Delight, long and full Enjoy⯑ment, and yet a freſh and perpetual Pleaſure; it would embitter the Pleaſures of Heaven to ſee an End of them, tho' at never ſo great a Diſtance: But God hath ſo ordered things that the vain Delights of this World ſhould be tempo⯑rary, but the ſubſtantial Pleaſures of the next World be as laſting as they are excellent.

That Man is truly happy who is tempt⯑ed to no anxious Fore-caſts for future E⯑vents, knowing nothing can happen in Contradiction of that Supreme Will in which he hath Sanctuary, which will certainly chuſe for him with that Ten⯑derneſs that an indulgent Father would for his Child that caſts its ſelf into his Arms: When our Will is thus inrolled with God's, all Calamities are unſtring⯑ed, and even thoſe things which ſeem moſt repugnant to our ſenſitive Natures, are yet very agreeable to our Spirits. There is no Face of Adverſity ſo formi⯑dable which ſet in this Light will not look amiable; let us but make ſure of Reſignation, and Content will flow into us without our farther Induſtry. Socra⯑tes ſaid rightly of Contentment, oppoſing it to the Riches of Fortune, that 'tis the Wealth of Nature, for it gives every thing [255] that we have learnt to want and really need; and Reſignation in our preſent State beſtows all things that a Chriſtian not only needs but can deſire: 'Tis the Uſurpation of our Will over our Rea⯑ſons which breeds all the Confuſions and Tumults within our own Hearts, and there is no poſſibility of curbing its In⯑ſolence but by putting them into ſafe Cuſtody, by oommitting it to him who alone can order our unrully Wills, and nothing but Experience can inform us of the Serenity and Calm of that Soul who has reſigned his Will to God.

It is certain in the Courſe of the World, there muſt be a greater number of Croſſes and Troubles than of external Comforts, nay there is ſcarce any Comfort but, like Jonah's Gourd, it hath a Worm at the Root of it, which not only withers the Comfort it ſelf, but creates greater Trouble and Sorrow than the Comfort it ſelf hath if intirely enjoy'd; ſo that in all worldly things the Stock of Troubles is three times greater than that of Com⯑forts; ſo true is that of Job, A Man is born to troubles as the Sparks fly upward; why therefore ſhould a Man ſink into Diſcontent, becauſe the World doth but follow its own natural State?

[256]'Tis certain a prudent Man is like the Elixir, it turns Iron into Gold, makes the moſt ſowr Condition of Life not only tolerable but uſeful and convenient; for a wiſe Man will mould and frame his worſt Condition into a Condition of Comfort by his Patience, and he that can content himſelf with the good Tem⯑per of his own Heart, has no Reaſon to be diſcontented with his Condition, ſince if it be not good he can make it ſuch, the Mind being the chief Matter either in Content or Diſcontent: We need no other Proof than that of Ahab and Haman, the one a great King the other a great Favourite to a mighty Mo⯑narch full of Wealth and Honour, yet a covetous Mind in the one, and a proud Mind in the other, made the former ſeek for a little Spot of Ground, and the latter grew ſo highly diſcontented for want of the Knee of a poor Jew, that it withered all his Enjoyments. Patience and Reſignation give us Poſſeſſion of our ſelves, we then remain Maſters of our Paſſions, and tho' there be Storms, and Tempeſts, and rolling Seas without us, yet all is calm within; and tho' I want ſomething that others have, yet I have ſomewhat that many better than I want: If I want Wealth yet I have Health, if [257] I want Health, yet I have Children, which others want. Thus we ſhould learn Con⯑tentment, by conſidering others Wants and our Enjoyments, and not learn Diſcom⯑forts from others Enjoyments; tho' theſe are only moral Conſiderations, yet they are of much Uſe and Moment, and car⯑ry'd the Heathens a great way in the Vir⯑tue of Patience. But we are furniſh'd with a more excellent way, becauſe no Affliction befalls us but is reached out to us from the Hand of Divine Providence, from whom we have our Being: The ge⯑neral State of Mankind in this World is a State of Trouble and Affliction, and is ſo incident to all Degrees and Conditions of Mankind, that no Perſon of whatſoever Age or Sex but hath a Part in this com⯑mon State of Mankind. And we find Men in all Ages, that only by the Dire⯑ction of natural Light, have calmed their Diſquiets, and reaſoned themſelves into Contentment, under the greateſt and moſt terrible Preſſures; Men, who, amidſt the acuteſt Torments, have ſtill preſerv'd a Serenity of Mind, and have fruſtrated Contempts and Reproaches by diſregard⯑ing them; and ſurely we ſhall give a very ill Account of Chriſtianity, if we cannot do as much with it as they did without it.

[258]The greateſt Cauſe of Diſcontent is, that Men have no definite Meaſure of their Deſires; 'tis not the Supply of all their real Wants will ſerve their [...]urn, their Appetites are precarious, and depend up⯑on Contingencies; they hunger not be⯑cauſe they are empty, but becauſe o⯑thers are full. Many would like their own Portion well enough, if they had not ſeen another whoſe Portion they lik'd better. Ahab might well have ſatisfy'd himſelf with the Kingdom of Iſrael, had not Na⯑both's Vineyard lay in his way: Haman could find no Guſt in all the Senſualities of the Perſian Court, becauſe a poor de⯑ſpicable Jew denies his Obeiſance; and thus every one of our Paſſions keeps us upon the Rack, till they have obtain'd their Deſigns. If we will create imagina⯑ry Wants to our ſelves, why do we not create an imaginary Satisfaction to them. 'Twere the merrier Frenzy of the two, to be like the mad Athenian, who thought all the Ships that came into the Harbour his own, than to be ſtill tormenting our ſelves with unſatiable Deſires; For we generally find thoſe that are fartheſt re⯑mov'd from Want, are ſo from Content too; they take no notice of the real ſub⯑ſtantial Bleſſings they enjoy, and go in queſt after ſome fugitive Satisfaction, [259] which, like a Shadow, flies ſtill faſter in proportion to their Purſuit. A ſtrange Folly, thus to court Vexations, and be miſerable in Chimera. We chew the Cud upon Gall and Wormwood, and embitter our own Lives meerly by theſe imaginary Sufferings; nor do we only fright our ſelves with Images of paſt Calamities, but we lay romantick Scenes for Diſtreſſes, and raiſe Alarms to our ſelves: We do nicely and critically obſerve every little adverſe Accident of our Lives, and let a whole Current of Proſperity glide by without our Notice; like little Children, our Fingers are never off the ſore Place, till we have pick'd every light Scratch into an Ulcer: Whereas, if we caſt up our Accounts juſtly, we ſhall find our Receits have infinitely exceeded our Disburſe⯑ments, and that for the few Mites of Obe⯑dience we have pay'd to our Creator, we have receiv'd Talents of Mercies from him; but inſtead of entertaining our ſelves with the pleaſanter Parts of God's Diſ⯑penſations to us, we always pore upon the harſher, and look upon our Misfor⯑tunes through all the magnifying Opticks our Fancies can ſupply; and we are ſo full of our ſelves, that we can ſee nothing beyond it. Every Man expects God ſhould place him where he hath a Mind to be, [260] and tho' we are apt to tax it as a great In⯑juſtice in a Prince, when he indulges any thing to a private Favourite to the pub⯑lick Diſadvantage, yet ſo unequal are we, that we murmur at God for not doing that which we murmur at Men for doing. We muſt conſider that other Men have the ſame Appetites with us, and if we diſlike an inferior State, why ſhould not we be⯑lieve others do ſo too; and we muſt not think God ſhould be more concern'd to humour us than thoſe Multitudes of o⯑thers who have the ſame Deſires. Every Man would be above and ſuperior, and if no Man were below, no Man could be above: So in Wealth, moſt Men deſire more, but every Man does at leaſt deſire to keep what he has, how then ſhall one Part of the World be ſupply'd, without the Diminution of the other, unleſs there ſhould be as miraculous a Multiplication of Treaſure for Men's Avarice, as there was of Loaves for their Hunger. It was a good Anſwer which an Ambaſſador of an oppreſſed Province gave to Anthony, If, O Emperor, thou wilt have double Taxes from us, thou muſt help us to double Springs and Harveſts. And ſure God muſt be at the Trouble of a new Creation, make a double World, if he ſhould ob⯑lige himſelf to ſatisfy all the unreaſonable [261] Appetites of Men; the Truth is, we have generally in us the worſer Part of the Le⯑vellers Principles, and tho' we can very contentedly behold Multitudes below us, yet we are impatient to ſee any above us; and thus we create Torments to our ſelves by our own Repinings, which only ſets us farther from our Aims.

It is obſervable of the firſt two Kings of Iſrael, who were of God's immediate Ele⯑ction, that he ſurpriz'd them with that Dignity when they were about a mean Imployment, the one ſeeking his Father's Aſſes, the other keeping his Father's Sheep; and ſurely he that ſits down with this Ac⯑quieſcence, is a happier Man than he that enjoys the greateſt Worldly Splendor, but infinitely more ſo than he who impatient⯑ly covets what he cannot attain, for ſuch a Man puts himſelf upon a perpetual Rack, keeps his Appetites up to the utmoſt Stretch, and yet hath nothing wherewith to ſatisfy them; for either we are trou⯑bled for the Want of ſomething we deſire, or at the ſuffering ſomething we would avoid. And there is no Man who ſober⯑ly recollects the Events of his Life, but muſt confeſs that he hath ſometimes de⯑ſir'd Things that would have been to his Miſchief, if he had had them; and on the other ſide, when he has obtain'd what he deſir'd, [262] it hath been to him a Puniſhment, rather than a Satisfaction; whereas by our Acquieſcence under the Ills we ſuffer, the Bitterneſs is taken off from all our Af⯑flictions, there being nothing which ſo much purifieth us, if we do not fruſtrate their Efficacy by our irregular Manage⯑ment under them.

Afflictions wean us from the World; we read in the Story of the Deluge, ſo long as the Earth was covered with Waters, the very Raven was contented to take ſhelter in the Ark; but when all was fair and dry, even the Dove finally forſook it; and it is much ſo with us, the worſt of Men will commonly in Diſtreſs have Re⯑courſe to God, when the beſt of us are apt to forget him in the Blandiſhments of Proſperity: We ſhould not therefore give our Hearts to any external Thing, but let all the Concerns of the World hang looſe about us, whereby we ſhall quit them in⯑ſenſibly, whenever they are call'd for. We muſt not look to be carried into Heaven upon Beds of Ivory, nor from the Noiſe of Harps and Viols to be immediately wrap'd up into the Choir of Angels: We may certainly often find that thoſe Events which we have entertain'd with Regret, have, in the Conſequences, been very be⯑neficial to us, of which I am ſtill a living [263] Teſtimony; for all the good Fortune and Promotion, which by their late Majeſties Grace and Favour I attain'd to, was oc⯑caſioned only by the Dexterity I then ſhew'd in giving ſuch good Account of Affairs abroad, whilſt I was then in Priſon at Bruges. Nay, ſometimes the Inhuma⯑nity of a Man's Relations are the Occaſi⯑on of his Advantage; thus the barbarous Malice of Joſeph's Brethren was the firſt Step to his Dominion over Egypt; and it is a common Obſervation in Families, that the moſt diſcouraged Children uſually prove better than the Darlings; and there is nothing more ordinary than for that which one eſteems a great Calamity to be⯑come the Foundation of our future Hap⯑pineſs.

A low Condition is a terrible thing in Sound and Opinion, and that's all: Some Men are baniſht and ſtript of their Eſtates, others are poor in Plenty, which is the baſeſt ſort of Beggary, for to ſpare of what a Man hath, not only what he may need, but what he doth need, is not only to walk with a Man's Horſe in his Hand, but to carry the Saddle too; and of the two it is a great deal better to die a Beg⯑gar than to live a Beggar. We uſually condemn Villains to the Mines, and he that labours firſt to get Mony, and then [264] locks up his Mony from himſelf, condemns both himſelf and it but again to the Mines, as if he envied both their very Being a⯑bove Ground. Poverty is not a thing to be wiſht no more than War, but if it be our Lott, we muſt bear our Misfortunes as becomes wiſe and honeſt Men; we do not pray for War, but for Generoſity and Cou⯑rage in all the Extremities of War, if it hap⯑pens. Afflictions are but the Exerciſes of Virtue, and an honeſt Man is out of his Element when he is idle: It is a common Argument againſt the Juſtice of Provi⯑dence, in the matter of Reward and Pu⯑niſhment, the Misfortunes of good Men in this World, and the Proſperity of the wicked; but alas, Misfortunes come by Divine Appointment, and to thoſe that are good Men even for that very Reaſon becauſe they are good: Proſperity ſhews a Man but one Part of humane Nature, no Body knows what ſuch a Man's good for, neither in Truth doth he underſtand himſelf for want of Experiment. Tem⯑poral Happineſs is for weak and vulgar Minds, but Calamity is the Touchſtone of a brave Mind, that reſolves to live and die free and Maſter of it ſelf; and Adver⯑ſity is beſt for us, for it is God's Mercy to ſhew the World their Errors, and that the things they fear and covet are neither [265] good nor evil, being the common and pro⯑miſcuous Lott both of good Men and bad; if they were good only the good ſhould enjoy them, and if bad only the wicked ſhould ſuffer them: A wiſe Man carries all his Treaſure within himſelf; and what Fortune gives ſhe may take, but he leaves nothing at her Mercy: He ſtands firm and keeps his Ground againſt all Misfortunes, with⯑out ſo much as changing Countenance, he is Proof againſt all Accidents: He is a Friend to Providence, and will not mur⯑mur at any thing that comes to paſs by God's Appointment, and never any Man was broken by Adverſity that was not firſt betrayed by Proſperity. The Truth is, we are generally miſtaken in the Nature of Good and Evil, and have not the true Meaſures of it; that is truly good which makes a Man the better, and that truly evil which makes a Man the worſe; if Pro⯑ſperity makes me thankful, munificent and humble, then 'tis good for me, and makes me better, but if it makes me proud 'tis evil for me: If Adverſity makes me cla⯑morous and murmur 'tis ill for me, but if it makes me humble, ſober and patient then 'tis good; and let every Man impar⯑tially take the Meaſure of the very ſame Man in each Condition, he ſhall find ten to one receive more Miſchief by Proſperi⯑ty [266] than Adverſity. There is a ſtrange Witchcraft in Proſperity which gets ground upon our Mind and Virtue, eſpe⯑cially upon our Humility, for Worldly Grandeur ſecretly ſteals away that Vir⯑tue, and impairs it ſooner than any other; Pride is the Devil, that uſually haunts and waits upon Worldly Greatneſs: How ma⯑ny Men have we ſeen, that under the greateſt Preſſures and Calamities of Po⯑verty and Reproach have yet kept up their Reputation, but in the warm Beams and Sun-ſhine of Proſperity have caſt off their Goodneſs, as the Traveller did his Cloak in the Fable, and became as great Oppreſſors and debauch'd Livers, as if they had never heard of Heaven or Hell. True Humility is a great Guard upon the Soul of a Man againſt theſe Rocks and Hazards; an humble Man looks upon all his Proſperity and Plenty not as his own, but as it is the Diſpoſition of the great Maſter of the Family of Heaven and Earth, Talents entruſted to him as a Steward to employ for his Maſter's Ser⯑vice and Honour, and not for his own Grandeur and Pleaſure; Our Vices are the Vermin that are commonly bred in us by the warm Influences of Proſperity.

We do not compare the Good of others with our Good, nor their Evil with our [267] Evil, but with an envious Curioſity we amaſs together all the deſirable Circum⯑ſtances of our Neighbour's Condition, and with a prying Diſcontent we ranſack all our Grievances, and confront to them; this is but a thin Piece of Sophiſtry; and we change the Scene, we compare our Neighbours and our ſelves in Point of Mortality, where we make his Vices as much exceed ours, as our Calamities did his in the other Inſtance. However this is the pleaſanter kind of Deceit, for a Man hath ſome Joy in thinking himſelf leſs wick⯑ed than his Neighbour, but no Comfort in thinking himſelf more miſerable. Indeed if we could uſe our Eyes aright, and ſee Things in their true Shapes, a Competen⯑cy would be more pleaſing than Abun⯑dance, and the envy'd Pomp of Princes, when ballanc'd with the Cares and Ha⯑zards annex'd, would rather make a wiſe Man fear than deſire Preferment; and if a Man well underſtood the Right, he would rather chuſe to wield a Flail than a Scepter; and indeed there is no greater Unhappineſs than the fond Admiration of other Mens Enjoyments, and Contempt of our own: But if we would begin at the right end, and look with as much Com⯑paſſion on the Adverſities of others, as we do with Envy at their Proſperities, [268] every Man would find Cauſe to ſit down contentedly with his own Burthen.

David, the Man after God's own Heart, was no leſs ſignal for his Afflictions than for his Piety; he was ſometime an Exile from his Country, and after being ſettled in his Throne, what a Succeſſion of Ca⯑lamities had he in his own Family; the inceſtuous Rape of his Daughter, the Re⯑taliation of that by the Murder of Am⯑mon, and that ſeconded by the rebellious and barbarous Conſpiracy of Abſalon; his Expulſion from Jeruſalem; the baſe Re⯑vilings of Shimei; and laſtly, the Loſs of his darling Son in the Act of his Sin. It is an ill-natur'd thing for any Man to think himſelf more miſerable, becauſe another is happy, and yet it is this thing alone, by which many Men have made themſelves wretched, having created Wants to them⯑ſelves, from the envious Contemplation of other Mens Abundance. Whenever God adminiſters to us a bitter Cup, we may be ſure the Ingredients are medicinal, and ſuch as our Infirmities require; he durſt not truſt our intemperate Appetites with unmix'd Proſperities, the Laſcivouſneſs whereof, tho' it may pleaſe our Palates, yet it may engender moſt fatal Diſeaſes. But alas, we do not underſtand our own Intereſt, becauſe we do not rightly under⯑ſtand [269] what we are our ſelves. We con⯑ſider our ſelves meerly in our animal Be⯑ing, our Bodies, and when we are in⯑vaded there, we think we are undone, tho' that Breach be made only to retrieve that diviner Part within us, oppreſs'd with the Fleſh about it, for our Body is to our Soul but as a Garment to the Body, a de⯑ſent Caſe and Cover; and certainly he muſt be a mad Man that would not rather have his Cloaths cut than his Fleſh, and we ought not to repine that our Souls are cured at the Coſt of our Bodies; and our impatient Reſiſtances do only fruſtrate the medicinal Part of our Afflictions, and our Murmur⯑ings may ruin our Souls but will never a⯑vert any of our outward Calamities.

To make a right Eſtimate of this World, we ſhould conſider it as a Stage, and our ſelves but as Actors, and to reſolve that it is very little material what Part we play, ſo we do it well; a Comedian may get as much Applauſe by acting the Slave as the Conqueror, and he that acts the one to Day, may to Morrow reverſe the Part and perſonate the other; and certainly he that hath well impreſt upon his Mind the Vanity and Vexation of the World, can⯑not be much ſurpriſed at any thing that be⯑falls him in it. We take the magnifying Glaſſes of Diſcontent when we view our [270] own Miſeries and others Felicities, but look upon our Enjoyments and their Suf⯑ferings thro' the contracting Opticks of Ingratitude and Incompaſſion. It is a very ill-natured thing for any Man to think himſelf more miſerable becauſe another is happy, and yet this is the very thing by which alone many Men have made them⯑ſelves wretched, creating Wants to them⯑ſelves meerly from the envious Contem⯑plation of other Mens Abundance. Lu⯑cifer was happy enough in his original State, yet could not think himſelf ſo be⯑cauſe he was not like the moſt High, and by inſolent Ambition forfeited his Bliſs; and thoſe do perfectly tranſcribe his Copy, who cannot be ſatisfied with any infe⯑rior Degree of Proſperity but what their Impatiencies with other Mens Enjoyments of what they cannot attain. God never articled with the Ambitious to give him Honours, with the Covetous to fill his Bags, with the Voluptuous to feed his Luxury; if therefore we expect to be ſa⯑tisfied let us modeſtly confine our Deſires within the Limits God hath ſet us, and then every Acceſſion which he ſuperadds will appear a Bounty.

The beſt Expedient for Contentment is to confine our Thoughts to the preſent. We often heap fantaſtick Loads upon our [271] ſelves by anxious Preſages of things which perhaps will never happen, which is one of the greateſt Follies imaginable; for either the Evil will come, or it will not; if it will, 'tis ſure no ſuch deſirable Gueſt that we ſhould go on to meet it, we ſhall feel it time enough when it comes, we need not anticipate our Senſe of it; but if it will not come, what extream Madneſs is it for a Man to torment himſelf with that which will never be, to create to himſelf Engines of Tortures, and by ſuch chimerical Afflictions make himſelf as miſerable as the moſt real ones could do? therefore let us reſt our ſelves upon that admirable Aphoriſm of our Saviour's, ſufficient unto the Day is the Evil thereof. A querilous repining Humour is one of the moſt pernicious Habits in⯑cident to Mankind, but yet as deform⯑ed People are moſt often in Love with themſelves, ſo this crooked Piece of our Temper is of all others the moſt indul⯑gent to it ſelf; it will nouriſh it ſelf with Chimeras, ſuborn a thouſand ima⯑ginary Diſtreſſes, and is impatient of any Diverſion, loves to converſe only with it ſelf: Men cheriſh this Diſeaſe of their Mind, and improve their Torment, roll and chew the bitter Pill in their Mouths, and by devoting all Thoughts to the Sub⯑ject [272] of their Grief, keep up an uninter⯑rupted Senſe of it, as if they had the ſame Tyranny for themſelves which Caligula had for others, and lov'd to feel them⯑ſelves die. This Word Calamity hath an ill Reputation in the World, the very Name is more grievous than the thing it ſelf; what need any Man complain if he can turn that into a Happineſs which o⯑thers count a Miſery? a wiſe Man is ne⯑ver ſurpriſed, in the midſt of Plenty he prepares for Poverty, as a prudent Prince does for War in the Depth of Peace; our Condition is good enough if we make the beſt on't, and our Felicity is in our own Power. Every Man ſhould ſtand upon his Guard againſt Fortune, and take heed to himſelf when ſhe ſpeaks him faireſt. A brave Man looks upon himſelf as a Citi⯑zen, a Soldier of the World, in deſpite of Accidents and Oppoſitions he maintains his Station, and is more ambitious of be⯑ing reputed Good than Happy. Mutius loſt his Right Hand with more Honour than he could have preſerved it; he was a greater Conqueror without it than he could have been with it, for with the very Stump of it he overcame two Kings, Tar⯑quin and Porſenna. Rutilia follow'd Cotta into Baniſhment, ſhe ſtaid and ſhe return'd with him too, and ſoon after ſhe loſt him [273] without ſo much as ſhedding a Tear; a great Inſtance of her Courage in his Baniſhment, and of her Prudence in his Death.

Many Men have longer Intermiſſi⯑ons from Afflictions than others, yet none are totally exempt from them; and that Man who hath lived to the ordinary Ex⯑tent of the Age of Man, will find his Croſſes and Sufferings have out-weighed the treaſure of his Comforts in this Life: The poor Man reckons it his Affliction that he wants Wealth, and the rich Man is not without his Afflicti⯑on, either in the Loſs of it, or for fear of loſing it.

Men in Proſperity cannot ſuppoſe a Change in their Eſtates; a healthful Man can hardly think of dying; the Reaſon is, that our preſent Condition falls under our preſent Senſe, and takes up our whole Conſideration, and things that are not yet are only preſent by Contemplation, which does not ſo ſtrongly affect the Mind, becauſe it hath not the like Strength of Impreſ⯑ſion upon the Mind as that which is preſent and ſenſible; whereas an Ap⯑prehenſion of a diſadvantageous Change of our Condition, admirably fills a Man with ſuch a Temper of Spirit as be⯑comes [274] his changed Condition: But a Man in Proſpetity, that never puts him⯑ſelf under the ſad Thoughts of a Change of his preſent Happineſs, if ſuch a Change befalls him he is at his Wits end, he is ſurpriſed and over⯑whelmed with it, being taken before he is prepar'd: It is certain it is a very great Improvidence for a Man to be learning thoſe Virtues, when the pre⯑ſent Neceſſity calls for the Uſe of them; it's like a Thief who is to learn to read when he is to pray his Clergy.

Affliction doth not ſo much endan⯑ger a good Man to loſe his Innocence as Wealth and Honour do; let any Man obſerve either in himſelf or others, we are all equally the worſe for Pro⯑ſperity, and it is a far greater Diffi⯑culty to manage a proſperous Fortune, than a low and afflicted Condition; and therefore thoſe are ſecureſt from Affliction that uſe their Proſperity with Equality of Mind; becauſe they keep a Check upon their Corruptions, and ſo ſtand in leſs need of this Phyſick; for my Part, I have quite forgot that ever I was proſperous, and my ill For⯑tune doth now the leſs trouble me; and I can well and truly ſay with Seneca:

When Job was ſcraping his Sores up⯑on the Dunghill, he ſaid, Lord when I was in Proſperity I heard thee, but now in my Affliction I ſee thee; which ſhews nothing gives a more intimate Knowledge of God than to be ſur⯑rounded with Tribulation; the Soul in [276] Proſperity grows proud, deaf and care⯑leſs, ſo that ſhe muſt ſmart in the Sen⯑ſes to be made ſenſible. We are not to be wrought upon but when afflicted and in Miſery: Jonas in the Whale's Belly, the Prodigal in the Pig-ſty, the Sick in hi Feaver, the Laſcivious in his Sweat⯑ing-tub, then they recollect themſelves; but when in Sports and Paſtimes, ſay⯑ling in a Sea of Plenty and Delights, all our Senſes are ſhut up, and no Paſ⯑ſage open: Solid Virtue, like a Roſe amidſt Thorns, ſeldom ſprings forth but in the Soil of Croſſes, Afflictions and Auſterities. Thoſe Men are truly virtuous who take as it were with the ſame Reliſh the Gall of Misfortunes and the Honey of Proſperity: No ſtormy Seaſons hinder their Journey, and that which diſtracts the ſoft and effeminate is to them Matter of Repoſe and Joy; all Things that paſs under the Name of Adverſity are not ſo but to the wicked, who make ill uſe of them in priſing the Creature more than the Cre⯑ator. The Delay our bleſſed Saviour made in ſending Succour to his Diſci⯑ples, endanger'd by a Storm at Sea, ſuf⯑ficiently hints unto us the Pleaſure God takes to ſee the Juſt row againſt the Stream, tug and wreſtle with all the [277] Force they can againſt the Storms and Afflictions of this World: And there⯑fore it is well obſerved, that God laid open Job to all the Aſſaults of Satan, but with this Reſerve, that he touch'd not his Life, and this not in regard that Death would have eclipſed the Glo⯑ry of that great Champion, but becauſe he would not be depriv'd of ſuch a Com⯑batant, to whoſe Conflict God with his bleſſed Angels were intent with much Satisfaction, and ſo would not loſe the Pleaſure of ſeeing that ſtout Skirmiſh fought to the laſt, betwixt him and his Enemy; and ſomething to this Purpoſe St. Gregory Nyſſen declares upon God's proceeding with the Iſraelites, in com⯑manding them to ſet up a brazen Ser⯑pent, at the Sight of which thoſe who ſhould be bitten by thoſe venomous Crea⯑tures might immediately find their Cure; and asking the Reaſon why God did not take a ſhorter Courſe by deſtroying all thoſe Serpents, which had given an end to the Plague; he at laſt ſatisfies him⯑ſelf with this Reaſon, that whilſt the Hebrews beheld the ſovereign Medica⯑ment in caſting up their Eyes to Heaven, they might thereby have Oc⯑caſion to conſider from whence they re⯑ceived their Deliverance, which other⯑wiſe [278] that groſs ungrateful People would ſoon have forgot; ſo that to draw them to pay what they ow'd to his Goodneſs, he was feign to lengthen out their Af⯑flictions.

Some Men are tired with whatever they have enjoyed in this World, and ex⯑pect no greater Satisfaction ſhould they live a thouſand Years; every Pleaſure appears but the ſame in different Forms, and they all agree in leaving us afflicted with the ſame or greater Pain they found us in. We walk here on Earth in an inchanted Caſtle of Shadows and Mock⯑eries, our whole Life is full of Vanity and Miſtake; every Man's Fortune is but a Repetition of Ixion's, we court Clouds inſtead of Divinities, and our moſt charming Fruitions conſiſt in Emptineſs.

Reſignation and Tranquility are the golden Mean, and he that ſteps over this Line on one ſide or the other, falls into the ſame Vanity which he bemoans or ridicules in the reſt of Mortals. I have peruſed many Books, and convers'd with more Men, yet none of them can inform me what I am my ſelf; for in this Life we are faign to peep into the World thro' the cloſe Windows of our Senſes, which are ſo darkned with the [279] Duſt our Paſſions raiſe, beſides the na⯑tural Dulneſs of our Compoſitions, that we are faign to uſe the Opticks of our Philoſophy to help our Sight: Yet after all we are ſtill pur-blind, and ſo are like to be during this mortal Life.

Many great Princes have exchanged the toilſome Glory and royal Fatigues of Empire for the ſweet Tranquility and Eaſe of a Country Farm, and the whol⯑ſome Exerciſes of Agriculture: Thus Diocleſian quitted his Throne for the ſake of a private Life, and thoſe Hands which had been accuſtomed to weild a Scepter, became at laſt volunta⯑rily familiar with the Spade, the Plough, and the Harrow. So Grand Cyrus, Mo⯑narch of the Perſians, uſed to boaſt of the Gardens planted and ſowed with his own Hands; ſo may Louis le Grand well boaſt that he hath exceeded all his Predeceſſors, nay even the Poets them⯑ſelves in their beſt Deſcriptions, in the Gardens and Water-works he hath made at Marly, Verſailles and Triannon. 'Tis certain the Fabii, the Lentuli, the Ci⯑ceros, and Piſoes derived their Names from thoſe kind of Vegetables which they ſignify, and which their Fathers took delight in planting: Was not Abraham a Herdſman, and Moſes the Prophet fa⯑miliar [280] with God, and David the Prince of Poets, and the moſt illuſtrious He⯑roes amongſt the Greeks and Romans, and other Nations, were Keepers of Sheep, Goats and Oxen; and the Ara⯑bians are ſo at this Day, with the Tar⯑tars and other Nations of the Eaſt.

We are all ſubject to various Changes and Viciſſitudes in this mortal State; our Lives are alternatively chequered with Good and Evil; Virtue and Vice have their Turns in the Series of moſt Mens Actions, Proſperity and Adverſity in the Courſe of our Lives, and no Man can with Truth boaſt the contrary, for we are all born to be Adventurers which happen in the Pell-mell of humane Con⯑verſation.

It is impoſſible to expreſs to the Life the Pleaſure that a Man feels in Solitude, when free and undiſturbed he can for many Hours behold the Motions of the Moon and Stars, which raiſe pious Thoughts and Contemplations within his Breaſt; his raviſht Soul is ready to break Priſon with Joy, when 'tis inſpir'd with certain Demonſtrations of Eter⯑nity, after which a Man is nauſeated with the narrow Principles of ignorant Men, and hates to profane his Reaſon with the vain Diſcourſe of ſelf-conceit⯑ed [281] Fools and Ideots, a Man is then cloy'd with Life, and wiſhes to die amidſt ſuch charming Speculations.

The Caſt of an Eye many times diſco⯑vers the ſecret Sentiments of the Heart, ſo does a ſhrug of the Shoulders, a pout of the Lip, or any other artificial Ge⯑ſture; they are all ſignificant and expreſ⯑ſive of what Affections and Thoughts we harbour within. There are ſome ſe⯑cret Characters in every Man's Face which ſpeak the Nature of the Perſon; we read the hidden Qualities of Men at the firſt Daſh; ſome Men have the very Signature of Virtue in their Faces, and hence are laſting Friendſhips often con⯑tracted.

I have ſpent the Spring and Summer of my Life in Vanity, Error, and Igno⯑rance, 'tis time I ſhould provide for the Winter of my Age a ſtock of ſolid Wiſ⯑dom and Virtue.

It is as natural for the vulgar to inveigh againſt generous Souls, as 'tis for Dogs to bark at the Moon, and yet that Planet is not moved at the Snarles of inviduous Animals; ſo Souls truly no⯑ble contemn the Cenſures of the inferi⯑or Part of Men.

God is pleas'd ſo to diſpenſe his tem⯑poral Bleſſings, that he which hath leaſt [282] hath enough, not only to oblige his Ac⯑quieſcence but his Thankfulneſs; tho' every Man hath not all he wiſhes, yet he hath that which is more valuable than that he complains to want. We muſt keep our Deſires at home, and not ſuf⯑fer them to ramble at things without our Reach: God hath placed none of us in ſo barren a Soil, in ſo forlorn a State, but there is ſomething perhaps in it which may afford us Comfort. But if in a ſullen Humour we will not cultivate our own Field, becauſe we have per⯑haps more mind to our Neighbour's, we may thank our ſelves if we ſtarve; the deſpiſing of what God hath given us is but a cold Invitation to farther Bounty, this complaining Humour is a Sickneſs of the Mind, a perpetual Craving of the Appetite without any Poſſibility of Satisfaction, and is the ſame in the Heart which the Caninus apetitus is in the Sto⯑mach: The Generality of Mankind be⯑ing commonly made unhappy, not by any thing without them, but by thoſe reſtleſs Impatiences that are within them. And if Iſrael, the Lott of God's own In⯑heritance, that People whom he had ſingled out from all the Nations of the World, could forfeit God's Favour by their Unthankfulneſs, ſure none of us [283] can ſuppoſe we have any ſurer Entail to it. As God loves a cheerful Giver, ſo he loves a cheerful Receiver; and we ſhould ſoon leave off murmuring if we did but ſeriouſly conſider, that God owes us nothing, and that whatever we receive is an Alms and not a Tribute. Diogenes being asked what Wine drank the moſt pleaſant, anſwered, that which is drunk at another's Coſt; and we can never miſs of this Circumſtance to re⯑commend our good Things to us, for be they little or much they come gratis. It is the Character of an ill Nature to write Injuries in Marble, and Bene⯑fits in Duſt; and however ſome may acquit themſelves of this Imputation as to Men, yet none can do ſo in Relati⯑on to God; and tho' he neither will nor can do Injury, yet we receive every croſs Accident with great Reſentment, whilſt his real Benefits are not at all obſerved. 'Tis true, ſome Men's Impatiences have riſen ſo high, as to caſt away Life be⯑cauſe it was not cloathed with all the Circumſtances they wiſhed; and tho' in an angry Fit many Men have with Jonas wiſhed to die, yet ten to one ſhould Death then come, they would be as willing to reſiſt it as was the Man in the Apologue, who wearied with his [284] Burthen of Sticks flung it down and call'd for Death, but when he came found no other Occaſion for him but to be helpt up again with his Bundle. 'Tis certain our Repinings proceed not from any Defect of God's Bounty, but from the malignant Temper within us; and as it is an eaſier thing to ſatisfie the Cravings of a hungry Appetite, than to cure the nauſeous Recoilings of a ſurfeited Sto⯑mach, ſo certainly the Diſcontents of the poor are more eaſier allay'd than thoſe of the rich; the Indigence of the one hath contracted his Deſires into a narrow Compaſs, but the other, who hath his Deſires ſtretched and extend⯑ed, is capable of no Satisfaction: Alas! our Body, with all its Enjoyments, is but the loweſt Inſtance of God's Boun⯑ty; 'tis but a decent Caſe for that ine⯑ſtimable Jewel within it; the Soul, like the Ark, is the thing for which this whole Tabernacle was fram'd. The more intellectual Powers wherewith it is indued have exerciſed the Curioſity and rais'd the Admiration of the great Con⯑templators of Nature in all Ages; and tho' the ſimpleſt Man knows he has the Faculties of Imagination, Apprehenſi⯑on, Memory and Reflection, yet the learnedſt cannot affirm where they are [285] ſeated, or by what Means they operate. And conſidering whereof we are made, our Preſervation is no leſs a Work of Omnipotence than our firſt framing; nay perhaps 'tis rather a greater, for we have now the Principles of Decay within us, which tend to Diſſolution; we want the Supplies of ſeveral things without us, the Failing whereof returns us again to our Duſt. The Air which refreſhes us may at another time ſtarve us, the Meat that nouriſhes us may choak us; nay, there is no Creature ſo inconſider⯑able which does not at ſome times ſerve us, and which may not at any time (if God permit) ruin us; and if the di⯑vine Providence did not draw out the better Properties of theſe Creatures for our Uſe, and reſtrain the worſer for our Security, we ſhould quickly return to our Duſt. And if the ebbing and flowing of the Sea put the Philoſopher into ſuch an Extaſie, that he flung him⯑ſelf into it, becauſe he could not com⯑prehend the Cauſe of it; in what perpe⯑tual Raptures of Admiration may we be, who have every Minute within us and about us more and greater Won⯑ders in our Favour, when we deſerve the Divine Power ſhould rather exert it ſelf in our Deſtruction. Ariſtippus [286] being bemoan'd for the Loſs of a Farm, reply'd with ſome ſharpneſs upon his Condoler, You have but one Field, and I have three left; why ſhould I not rather grieve for you? intimating, That a Man is not ſo much to Eſtimate what he hath loſt, as what he hath left; and we may eaſi⯑ly be convinced, that even in our worſe Eſtate, our Enjoyments are more than our Sufferings, and God's Acts of Grace do out-number thoſe of his Severity to us.

There is no Man that can with Rea⯑ſon affirm himſelf to be the moſt un⯑happy Man, there being innumerable Di⯑ſtreſſes of others which he knows not of: Many Sorrows may lie at the Heart of him that carries a ſmiling Face, and many a Man has been an Object of Envy to thoſe who look only on the Out-ſide, who yet to thoſe that know his private Griefs appears more worthy of Compaſ⯑ſion. Solon ſeeing his Friend much op⯑preſſed with Grief, carried him to the Top of a Tower that over-look'd the City of Athens; and ſhewing him all the Buildings, ſaid to him, Conſider how many Sorrows have, do, and ſhall in fu⯑ture Ages inhabit under all thoſe Roofs, and do not vex thy ſelf with thoſe Incon⯑veniencies which are common to Morta⯑lity, [287] as if they were only yours: It was the ſaying of Socrates, That if there were a common Bank made of all Men's Troubles, moſt Men would chuſe rather to take thoſe they brought, than to ven⯑ture upon a new Dividend, but think beſt to ſit down with their own: He is an ill Member of a Community, who in Publick Aſſeſſments will ſhuffle off all Payments; and he is no better, who in this common Tax, which God hath laid upon our Nature, is not content to bear his ſhare. A ſick Fortune produces wholſome Counſels, and we reap this Fruit by adverſe Fortune, that it brings us at laſt to Wiſdom; whereas proſpe⯑rous Fortune, like a ſtrong Gale upon a ſtrong Current, carries a Man in a trice out of the ſight of Quiet; and if it be not well regulated, it is ſo far from eaſing us, that it proves an Oppreſſion to us; and a buſie fortunate Man in the World, calls many his Friends, that were at moſt but his Gueſts, and Men flock to him, as they do a Fountain in hot Weather, both to exhauſt and trouble him.

Of WOMEN.

THERE is much to be ſaid in the Praiſe and Diſpraiſe of Women; as we are Rid⯑dles to our ſelves, ſo that Sex is in a much higher de⯑gree Myſterious; for Women have Ways by themſelves unknown to Men, their Windings and Turnings are as intricate as thoſe of Serpents; and if Daedalus were now alive, (tho' once the Glory of Labyrinth-makers) he would be trou⯑bled to trace Women in all their ſecret, wild, unknown Maeanders; and yet it is clear, that Womens Inclinations are not only oftentimes better, but their Re⯑ſolutions greater than Mens; and it is obſerv'd, that as they are generally more virtuous than Men, ſo when they deviate to Vice, they are more hardned in it.

The great Actions in which they have born a part, ſpeak the Excellencies of their Nature: Judith in Sacred Writ is remembred with great Glory; and Lu⯑cretia in the Roman Hiſtory, by her Re⯑ſolution, hath raiſed her ſelf an eternal [289] Monument; neither muſt that Noble Vir⯑gin Clelia be forgot, who being given in Hoſtage to King Porſenna at the Siege of Rome, ſhe eſcaped her Guards by Night, and mounting a Horſe ſhe found in the way, ſhe ſwam over the Tyber in⯑to Rome; whereupon, and upon what Mutius had a little before done and ſaid, Porſenna (as if terrified by the ſtupen⯑dious Reſolution of the Romans) con⯑ſented to a Peace.

And tho' ſome out of Wantonneſs of Wit, and Extravagancy of Paradoxes, have called the Abilities of Women in queſtion; yet thoſe Abilities beſt appear⯑ing in Matters of Religion and Govern⯑ment, we are in neither of theſe with⯑out Examples of able Women. The laſt Age gave us ſo great a Queen for Go⯑vernment, as ſcarce any former King did equal; and this Age ſuch a Queen-Dowager to our late King, that if Plu⯑tarch were again in being to write Lives by Parallels, he would not find for her Majeſty a Parallel amongſt Women, ſince no Age hath ſeen her Equal for Beauty, Piety, Virtue, Generoſity, and other moſt Eminent Abilities and Princely En⯑dowments.

[290]The World indeed (which is no juſt Judge) will ſcarce allow Women to be Wiſe; and becauſe they are generally commended enough for other Qualities, the World therefore delights to leſſen on one Side, what it is forced to allow on the other: For we uſually find in Women a Delicacy of Wit not common to Men, neither are Men's Actions com⯑monly attended with ſo much Graceful⯑neſs as Womens; and Ladies are more skilful than Men in what they do, whether it be the Advantage of pleaſing be more Natural to them, or that finding their great Strength to lie there, they make it more their Study from their Child⯑hood: And where Women have ſub⯑mitted themſelves to as good Education as Men, their Sex hath not prejudiced them from being great Examples to o⯑thers; and this Sex hath always been eſteem'd and found by the Engliſh wor⯑thy of Empire, and when it hath been enthron'd, it hath beſtow'd great Feli⯑city upon the Nation, neither hath it given Place to the other Sex for illuſtri⯑ous Qualities, and the higheſt Virtues.

In the Venetian Story we find certain Matrons of that City were ſent in Qua⯑lity as Ambaſſadreſſes to an Emperor, with whom that State had occaſion to [291] treat; And in the Eaſtern Parts of the World, it's uſual for Women to be Am⯑baſſadreſſes; and in Affairs of Religion, Women have ever had a great Hand, tho' ſometimes on the Left as well as the Right; ſometimes their abundant Wealth, ſometimes their Perſonal Affe⯑ctions to Church-men, and ſometimes their indiſcreet Zeal; many times the Voices of great Men, both in Civil and Eccleſiaſtical Aſſemblies, have been in the Power and Diſpoſition of Women: And hence it is, that in the old Epiſtles of ſome Popes, we find as many Letters of thoſe Popes, to the Emperors Wives, Mothers, and Siſters, as to the Emperors themſelves.

It would be a kind of unpardonable Envy to conceal ſome other Excellen⯑cies of Women, and the Advantages they have of us in many Reſpects: Some He⯑brew Doctors, from the different Names of Adam and Eve, draw Arguments to prove the Dignity and Perfection of the Female Sex, in that Adam ſignifies Earth, but Eve expreſſes Life. And they affirm, That every Name which God impos'd on any thing, deſcribes its Nature and Quality, as a Picture repreſents the Ori⯑ginal; and therefore by how much Life is to be eſteemed more than Earth, by [292] ſo much more excellent, in the Opinion of theſe Rabins, is Woman, than Man: They endeavour to ſtrengthen this Opi⯑nion, by ſhewing, that God having made Man, and then ſurvey'd the Syſtem of his Works, found nothing more excel⯑lently and divinely fram'd than Woman, and therefore in her reſted and commen⯑ced the Sabbath, as if he could not make the Idea of another Creature more per⯑fect than her, or as if he did not eſteem the Univerſe it ſelf compleat, without the laſt and moſt accompliſh'd of his Works: And as the End is always firſt in the Intention, and laſt in Execution, Woman therefore being the laſt Work of the Creation, it is thereby evident that ſhe was the chief Deſign and Aim God Almighty had in building this im⯑menſe Fabrick, which he furniſh'd and adorn'd with infinite Riches and De⯑lights, and then introduced Eve as into her Native proper Place, there to reign as abſolute Queen over all his Works: And beſides, the particular Place of her Creation does much exalt her, in that ſhe was formed in Paradice amongſt the Angels, whereas Adam was made in the common Waſte amongſt the Brutes: But the moſt prevailing Argument is from the ſtupendious Beauty of that Sex, [293] which like finer ſorts of Clouds in Sum⯑mer, ſeem to ingroſs the Splendor of the Sun, and to reflect his Beams on the World? How matchleſs is indeed a Wo⯑man's Form? What dazzling Majeſty en⯑virons her from Hand to Foot? Can you gaze on her lovely Countenance without Aſtoniſhment, or fix your Eyes upon her without an Extaſie? Indeed, ſo admirable is the Figure, Voice, and Mein of a beautiful Woman, that he is wilfully Blind, who does not ſee, what⯑ever Beauties the whole World is capa⯑ble of, are concentred in that Sex. Yet after all this, they have their dark Side too, like the reſt of mixed Beings: They are the Frontier Paſſes of the World a⯑bove and of that below, the Gates of Life and Death, the very Avenues to Heaven or Hell, according as they are uſed; like Fire they will warm and re⯑freſh a Man, if he keeps at a due di⯑ſtance; but if he approach too near, they ſcorch and bliſter him; or like the other Element of Water, they are very good and ſerviceable, whilſt kept within their Bounds, but let them once break down the Banks of Modeſty, they'll threaten all with Ruin: In a word, It is neither ſafe to Vex them in the leaſt, or Humour them too much; the exceſs [294] of Fondneſs, as well as the defect of natural Love, may equally undo us; Prudent Generoſity is the only Method of making our ſelves happy in the En⯑joyment of them. The frequent and familiar Converſe Women are allow'd with Men, within the Bounds of Mo⯑deſty, both in England and France, is a great Advantage to them; and cer⯑tainly the Italians and Spaniards, in their ſo great ſtrictneſs to this Sex, do much Err; for beſides the Injuſtice they act, in depriving them of that Liberty which God and Nature allows them, it is im⯑poſſible they ſhould ever become more Virtuous by being confin'd to the Melan⯑cholly of a Cloiſter, which muſt neceſ⯑ſarily indulge and miniſter looſe Thoughts, when if they converſt in the World, they might improve themſelves by Know⯑ledge, and the Diverſions they would receive from the Company of others, which would keep them from thinking of Ill ſo frequently.

The preſent Jews of this Age, and Turks, have an odd Opinion of Women, believing they are of an inferior Crea⯑tion to Man, and therefore they exclude them, the firſt from their Synagogues, the other from their Moſques, which is not only Partial but Profane; for the [295] Image of the Creator ſhines as clearly, if not more, in the one, as in the other; and I believe there are as many Female Angels in Heaven as Males, though in Heaven there be many Manſions; to which may be added, that there went better and more refined Atoms to the Creation of Woman than there did of Man.

'Tis true, it was a weak Part in Eve to yield to the Seducements of the Ser⯑pent, but it was a weaker Thing in Adam to be tempted by Eve who was the weaker Veſſel. The Ancient Philoſo⯑phers had a better Opinion of that Sex, they aſcribed all Sciences to the Muſes, all Sweetneſs and Morality to the Graces, and Prophetick Inſpirations to the Si⯑bylls; and we find in all Authors high Examples of the Virtues of Women; And if they did but conſider what an Aſcendant they have upon Men, and that tho' they were the Source of all our Miſeries, yet we ſtill adore them, they would be ſomething more complacent; for it is certainly a ſign of good Nature to be amorous of Women; and he is look'd upon as a Monſter, or degene⯑rate Perſon, who feels no Warmths of Paſſions for that lovely Sex: Women were ſent into the World on purpoſe, [296] as many think, to blow up thoſe gentle Flames, which ſublimate our groſſer Mould, and make us more refined: The Love of Women is riveted in our Na⯑ture, and our Blood muſt firſt grow Cold before this Flame can be extinguiſhed; nay many times it is more fervent, tho' of a ſhort Duration, in our lateſt Hours than in our Prime: As when the Oil which feeds a Lamp is almoſt ſpent, the ſtartled Flame begins to rouze it ſelf and burn afreſh, as if it would feign ſubſiſt a little longer, and then it crackles and flaſhes with greater Noiſe and Luſtre than before, but preſently expires; ſo does this Amorous Fire, when we are neareſt our Diſſolution, begin to trou⯑ble us moſt, and makes our Souls blaze with Fevers of Deſire and Grief, know⯑ing its Period is near. I know ſome Women are as Shadows, the more you follow them the faſter they fly from you; and they are of that odd Humour, that to feed their Pride, they will ſtarve thoſe Natural Paſſions which are owing from them to Men: I confeſs, Coyneſs be⯑comes ſome Beauties, if handſomely acted, and a Frown from ſome Faces penetrates more, than the ſoft Glances of a mincing Smile; but if this Coy⯑neſs or thoſe Frowns ſavour of Pride, [297] they are odious, if not ridiculous; for it is a true Rule, where this kind of Pride inhabits, Honour ſits not long Porter at the Gate.

There are indeed ſome Beauties ſo ſtrong, that no Batteries can do any good upon them; there are others that are tenable a good while, but will incline to Parley at laſt, and that Fort which begins to Parley is half won: For my own Part, I think of Women what Phi⯑lip of Macedon thought of Cities, There is none ſo Inexpugnable but an Aſs laden with Gold may enter into it; and as the Spaniards ſay, Preſents may rend Rocks; Pearls and golden Bullets may do much upon the moſt impregnable Beauty that is. And yet I knew an Engliſh Lord that ſent a little Dog to a Lady he eſteem'd much, with a rich Collar of Diamonds; ſhe took the Dog, but re⯑turn'd the Collar; but what effect it wrought after I cannot ſay. 'Tis a powerful Sex; they were too ſtrong for the firſt, the ſtrongeſt, and the wiſeſt Man that ever was; and yet for all their Strength, in Point of Value, the Ita⯑lian ſays, (I will not ſay truly) That a Man of Straw is worth a Woman of Gold. In fine, the beſt Advice I can give in this Caſe, is, When Women are [298] perverſe, retire handſomely, there be⯑ing as much Honour to be got in a hand⯑ſome Retreat, as in a hot Purſuit; and by this Retreat you will get a greater Victory than you think of, for you will Overcome your ſelf, which is the grea⯑teſt Conqueſt that can be made.

Thoſe do great wrong to Ladies that eſteem them unable to govern a State, ſince Hiſtory tells us, That the Female Sex is not only worthy to bear the Scepter, but that Ladies have pre⯑ſerved and enlarged the Kingdoms of Spain, England, Denmark, and Swe⯑den, who never flouriſhed ſo much as under the two Elizabeths, Margaret and Chriſtina: Never King of England was better obey'd than Queen Elizabeth; the Commanders freely acknowledg'd their Victories proceeded as much from the happy Genius of their Queen as from their own Valour: And Elizabeth of France, Wife to Philip IV. would have re-eſtabliſhed the Affairs of Spain, if the Impertinency of a Favourite had not held her at a diſtance from the Councils of the King her Husband: They are not all ſufficiently qualified to Rule, neither are Men. There are but few Women indeed, becauſe the Malice or Envy of Men keeps them off from [299] ſhewing their Abilities, and making their Prudence and Generoſity admired; and if there were as many Women as Princes upon the Throne, we ſhould often find Female Accompliſhments ſuperior to ours, there being many Ladies worthy to Govern, and would be many more, if they were inſtructed and brought up to great Affairs from their younger Years.

On the Knowledge of God, and a⯑gainſt Atheiſm.

WITH whatſoever other Knowledge a Man may be endued, he is but ignorant who does not know God, the Duty he owes Him, and the way to praiſe Him, who can make him happy or miſerable for ever. Tho' a Man could know all that Nature or Art requires, could attain to a Maſte⯑ry in all Languages, and ſound the Depths of all Arts and Sciences, could diſcover the Intereſts of all States, the Intrigues of all Courts, the Reaſons of all civil Laws and Conſtitutions, and give an Account of the Hiſtory of all Ages, and yet ſhould want the Know⯑ledge of God: All this would be but an impertinent Vanity, and a glittering kind of Ignorance. Such a Man would be undone with all his Knowledge, and be like the Philoſopher, who gazing upon the Stars fell into the Ditch. For true [301] Wiſdom regards our own Intereſt, and he is not a wiſe Man who does not take Care of his own Concerns.

Nothing can more effectually under⯑mine the Foundation of our Happineſs, than to baniſh the Belief of a God out of the World; for if there were no God, Man would be in a worſe Condition than Beaſts, who are only ſenſible of pre⯑ſent Pain, and when it is upon them they bear it as they can, not being ap⯑prehenſive of Evils at a Diſtance, nor tormented with the Proſpect of what may befal them hereafter; but Man is liable to theſe Evils and many others, which are ſo much the greater, becauſe they are aggravated by the ſharp Re⯑flections of our own Thoughts, and if there be no God we are wholly with⯑out Comfort, and without any other Re⯑medy than what Time will give; But if we believe there is a God that takes Care of us, this muſt be a mighty Com⯑fort to us, both under our preſent Af⯑fliction, and the Apprehenſion of Evils at a Diſtance, for in that Caſe we are ſe⯑cure, that either God by his Providence will prevent the Evils we fear, or will ſupport us under them when they come, or will make them the Occaſion of a greater good to us, by turning them [302] either to our Advantage in this World, or the Encreaſe of our Happineſs in the next.

Atheiſm hath ſtruck on a ſudden into ſuch a Reputation, that it ſcorns any lon⯑ger to ſculk, but ſhews it ſelf more Pub⯑lickly than moſt Men dare do the con⯑trary; nothing paſſes for Wit that hath not its Stamp, and with it there is no Metal of ſo baſe Alloy but will go cur⯑rant; every dull Man that can but ſtout⯑ly diſdain his Maker, hath by it ſecured his Title to Ingenuity: And yet it is im⯑poſſible for any Man who ſees only the ſmalleſt part of the Univerſe, to doubt of a Free and Supream Being, untill by the Senſe of his Wickedneſs it becomes his Intereſt there ſhould be none; for certainly there never was any Man who ſaid there was no God, but he wiſhed it firſt.

'Twas good Counſel given to the A⯑thenians, to be very careful Philip of Macedon was dead, before they expreſt their Joy at his Death, leaſt they might find him alive to revenge their haſty Tri⯑umph; and ſo let the Atheiſts be ſure there is no God, before they preſume thus to defie him, leaſt they find him at laſt aſ⯑ſert his Being in their Deſtruction.

[303]The great Myſtery of Atheiſm, is, that Men are wedded to their Luſts, and are reſolved upon a wicked Courſe, and ſo it becomes their Intereſt to wiſh there were no God, and to believe ſo if they can; ſo that nothing but the Power of vicious Inclinations ſways Mens Minds towards Atheiſm, and when Mens Judgments are once byaſs'd, they do not believe according to the Evidence of Things, but according to their Humour and Intereſt; for when Men live as if there were no God, it becomes expe⯑dient for them that there ſhould be none, and then they endeavour to perſuade themſelves ſo, and are glad to find Ar⯑guments to fortifie themſelves in that Perſuaſion.

That there have been many falſe Gods deviſed, is rather an Argument that there is a true One, than that there is none: There would be no Counterfeits but for the ſake of ſomething that's real; For tho' all Pretenders ſeem to be what they really are not, yet they pretend to be ſomething that really is: There would be no Braſs Money if there were not good and lawful Money: Briſtol Stones would not pretend to be Diamonds, if there never had been any Diamonds: Thoſe two great Counterfeits, Lambert [304] Simuel and Perkin Warbeck, had never been ſet up in Henry VII's Time, if there had not once been a real Plantagenet and Duke of York: So the Idols of the Heathens, tho' they were ſet up in Af⯑front to the true God, yet they rather prove there is One, than the contrary.

It is evident to common Senſe, that Man is not ſufficient of himſelf to his own Happineſs; he is liable to many Miſeries, which he can neither prevent nor redreſs: He is full of Wants which he cannot ſupply, and of Infirmities which he cannot remove, and obnoxious to Dangers againſt which he cannot pro⯑vide: Conſider a Man without God's Protection, and he is ſure of nothing he enjoys, and uncertain of every thing he hopes for. He Grieves for what he can⯑not help, Deſires what he cannot obtain; Courts Happineſs, which flies from him the farther he purſues it. His Hopes and Expectations are bigger than his En⯑joyments, his Fears and Jealouſies more troubleſome than the Evils themſelves: So that the Atheiſt deprives himſelf of all Comfort that the Apprehenſions of a God can give a Man, and yet is liable to all the Trouble and Diſguſt of thoſe Apprehenſions.

Of RELIGION.

MOST People take up their Religion for a Faſhion, and receive it according to the Country where they are born, and are therefore of that Religion; and the Reaſon why we are Chriſtians rather than Jews, Turks, or Heathens, is becauſe Chriſtian Religion had the Fortune to come firſt in our Way, and beſpeak us at our Entrance into the World. The Chriſtian Religion may make Archymedes's Challenge, Give it but where it may ſet its Foot, allow but a ſober Advertence to its Propoſals, and it will move the whole World: It comes with moſt convincing Arguments, but theſe muſt firſt obtain Attention, before they can force Aſſent. They will moſt infallibly weigh down the Scales, if you try and examine their weight.

[306]But it's to be fear'd we are ſo ſtupid and unconcern'd, that all the perſuaſive Rhetorick of the Goſpel will make no Impreſſion upon us, all the Avenues of our Reaſon are ſo blocked up, that they will find no way of approaching. We are like the Indian Serpents Philoſtratus mentions, Proof againſt all Charms, but ſuch as with their glittering Splendor aſſault our Eyes. Nothing moves us but what courts our Senſes, and what is not groſs enough to be ſeen, we think too nice to be conſider'd. The Form and Name of Chriſtianity Men find rea⯑dy to their Hands, and it coſts them no Labour to call themſelves Chriſtians, as they do French or Engliſh, only be⯑cauſe they were born within ſuch a Territory, and have taken up their Re⯑ligion as part of their Fate, the Temper of their Climate, the Entail of their Anceſtors, the Profeſſion of it deſcends to them by way of Inheritance, and like young careleſs Heirs, they are never at the Charge to Survey it, to inform them⯑ſelves of the Revenues of it, what Bur⯑then it lies under, or what Advantages it promiſes.

It is to be fear'd that of thoſe vaſt Mul⯑titudes that have entred the Baptiſmal [307] Vows, moſt of them weigh it as little when they ſhould perform it, as they did when they made it, and have no other Notion of Baptiſm, but as a Cu⯑ſtom of the Place, or a Time of Feaſt⯑ing, and conſider no farther Significan⯑cy in thoſe Spiritual Bonds, than they did in their Swadling Cloaths; and can give no better account why they took on them Chriſt's Livery, than why they wear ſuch Garments as the common Faſhion of the Country preſcribes them: But where Men are ſo Ignorant, it muſt neceſſarily infer, their Parent's Negli⯑gence either in not infuſing, or their own ſtubborn Perverſeneſs in reſiſting Inſtruction. But it is more probable to conclude the former, ſince if Children were early inſtructed, Knowledge would inſenſibly inſinuate it ſelf before their Years had arm'd them with Obſtinacy enough to make Head againſt it. And when by the Parent's Remiſſneſs the proper Seed-time is loſt, the Soil grows ſtiff and untractable, the Labour of Learning averts their Childhood, and the Shame of it their Manhood, and they grow old in their Ignorance, and are ready to leave the World before they come to know any thing of that [308] which is to ſucceed it. This is a com⯑mon and deſpicable Caſe, which loudly accuſes their Parents, who thus wretch⯑edly hazard their Children's greateſt Concernment. And as it was a Fault in their Parents to let their Children want thoſe neceſſary Infuſions, 'tis ſure⯑ly ſo in themſelves, to let their riper Years continue in that Ignorance, ha⯑ving ſcarce ever thought of their Reli⯑gion, ſince they cou'd their Leſſon to avoid Correction. And then 'tis no wonder if they paſs in the ſame Forget⯑fulneſs with other the Occurrences of that ſlippery Age: But if to ſome their Memory hath been ſo faithful as to re⯑tain thoſe early Impreſſions which were made in it; yet alas, it avails little; for a Man's Remembrance of his Creed may tell him there is a God, and that he is Almighty; but if his Reaſon be ſo much aſleep as not to infer from thence the Neceſſity of Reverencing and Obey⯑ing him, he may repeat the Creed eve⯑ry Day, and yet be an Atheiſt.

The Difficulty of removing what is imprinted in us by Education is very hard; that which Men take in by Edu⯑cation being next to that which is Na⯑tural; and moſt Men owe the Principles [309] of their Religion to their Education, or Climate wherein they were Born, being bred up either to confirm thoſe Principles their Parents inſtilled into them, or by a general Conſent proceed in the Religion of their Country, there being a Geography of Religions as well as Lands, and every Climate is not on⯑ly diſtinguiſh'd by their Laws and Li⯑mits, but circumſcribed by their Do⯑ctrines, not conſidering whether true or falſe, but only according to their Intereſt: And if we conſider the Lives of moſt Men of all Conditions, we ſhall find the Honours and Pleaſures of the World, which we renounced in Bap⯑tiſm, are the very Gods which ſhare the World amongſt us.

Tho' we have ſeen Overturnings of States and Kingdoms, and great Chan⯑ges, yet the true Church, that adores that God that was ever ador'd, ſubſiſts without Interruption, and that Religion which hath always been oppoſed, ſtill ſubſiſts. It hath many a Time been al⯑moſt extinguiſhed, yet God hath al⯑ways been pleas'd to raiſe and recover it by Wonders of his Goodneſs and Power; and what is alſo very obſer⯑vable is, That it hath never ſubmitted [310] to yield or bow to the Will of Ty⯑rants, Let us but take a ſerious View of the Apoſtles choſen by Jeſus Chriſt: Thoſe Perſons that were Ignorant and Unlearned, of a ſuddain were found ſufficiently able to put to Silence the wiſeſt Philoſophers, and Courageous enough to oppoſe the greateſt Kings or Tyrants that reſiſted the Chriſtian Re⯑ligion which they Taught and Preach'd. If we ſee a Miracle, ſay ſome Men, we would be Converted; they think there is no more in Converſion, but to believe there is a God, when the De⯑vil does that and trembles; but true Converſion conſiſts in Humbling our ſelves before the Saviour of the World, whom we have ſo often Povoked, and who might juſtly every Minute deſtroy us; to confeſs, we can do nothing without him, and that we have deſer⯑ved nothing but his Diſpleaſure. It conſiſts in acknowledging that there is a great Enmity betwixt God and us, and without a Mediator we could have had no Acceſs nor Favour.

I know very well, that good Men may and often do blemiſh the Repu⯑tation of their Piety, by over-acting ſome Things in Religion, by an un⯑grateful [311] Auſterity and Sourneſs, which Religion does not require; a ſubſtan⯑tial, diſcreet and unaffected Piety makes no great Noiſe nor Shew, but expreſſes it ſelf in a conſtant ſerious Devotion, accompanied with good Works and Kindneſs, which makes a Man pleaſing both to God and his Neighbour: Reli⯑gion makes Men obedient to Govern⯑ment, and conformable to Laws; it makes Men Peaceable to each other, it heals the Natures of Men, and ſweetens their Spirits; it corrects their Paſſions, and mortifies all thoſe Luſts, which are the Cauſes of Enmity and Diviſions: If Men would live as Religion requires they ſhould do, the World would be a quiet Habitation: And the true Rea⯑ſon, why the Societies of Men are ſo full of Tumult and Diſorder, is, Be⯑cauſe there is ſo little true Religion a⯑mongſt them; ſo that if it were not for ſome ſmall Remainders of Piety and Virtue, which are yet ſcatter'd amongſt Mankind, humane Society would in a ſhort Time disband and run into Con⯑fuſion, the Earth would grow wild and become a great Foreſt, and Men would turn Beaſts of Prey one towards the other: So that Religion hath ſo great [312] an Influence upon the Felicity of Man, that it ought to be upheld out of Re⯑gard to their Temporal Peace and Pro⯑ſperity, as well as to their Eternal. Religion does qualify all Sorts of Men, and makes them in Publick Affairs the more Serviceable, Governors apter to Rule with Conſcience, and Inferiors for Conſcience Sake the willinger to Obey. And it is a great Truth, That all Du⯑ties are by ſo much the better perform'd by how much the Men are more Reli⯑gious from whoſe Abilities the ſame proceed; and if Magiſtrates, who are employ'd about the Publick Admini⯑ſtration of Juſtice, follow it only as a Trade for Gain's-Sake, the Formality of Juſtice will then only ſerve to ſmo⯑ther Right, and that which was neceſ⯑ſarily ordain'd for the common Good, will be the Cauſe of common Miſe⯑ry.

Religion has a Superiority above all other Things, and is as neceſſary to our living Happy in this World, as it is to our being Saved in the next; with⯑out it a Man is an abandon'd Creature, one of the worſt Beaſts Nature hath produced, and fit only for the Society of Wolves and Bears, and therefore in [313] all Ages it hath been the Foundation of Government. [...]nd therefore as no⯑thing is better for being Soure, it would be hard Religion ſhould be ſo, which is the beſt of Things, and is ſo Cheerful, and ſo far from being al⯑ways at odds with good Humour, that it is inſeparably united to it, and no⯑thing of Unpleaſantneſs belongs to it. A Virtue ſtuck with Briſtles is too rough, it muſt be adorned with ſome Flowers, or elſe it will be unwillingly entertained; ſo that even where it may be fit to Strike, do it gently; and where one takes Care to do it, he would wound others more, and hurt himſelf leſs by ſoft Strokes, than by being harſh and violent.

Moſt People keep to that Religion which is grown up with them, think⯑ing that the beſt; and the Reaſon of ſtaying in it upon that Ground, is ſomewhat ſtronger for Women, than will be allow'd for Men, who are bound to ſearch the Truth.

Tho' Kings be Gods on Earth, yet they are Subjects of Heaven, and ac⯑countable to God: Religion in a King ſtrengthens his Authority, it procures Veneration, and gains a Reputation; [314] and in all Publick Affairs, ſo much Reputation is really ſo much Power; and even in Men of low Degree, Re⯑ligion will command ſome Reverence and Reſpect: But in Perſons of emi⯑nent Place and Dignity, it caſts a Lu⯑ſtre upon them, and by a ſtrong Re⯑flection doubles the Beams of Majeſty; as the clearneſs of the Eye diſpoſes for a quicker Sight, ſo the clearneſs of the Mind diſpoſes us to more perfect Acts of Religion. Few Things are well learnt but by eaſy Precepts, thoſe well infuſed will make them Natural, and we are never ſure of retaining what is valuable, till by continual Ha⯑bit we have made it a Piece of us.

We muſt not think the Rewards of Heaven, like ripe Fruit upon a full laden Bough, ſhould ſtoop down to us, to be taken by every idle and wanton Hand: That Heaven ſhould be proſti⯑tuted to the lazy Deſires and ordinary Endeavours of Slothful Men. God will not ſo much diſparage eternal Life and Happineſs, as to beſtow it upon thoſe who have ſo low an Opinion of it, as not to think it worth taking Pains for. We muſt uſe our beſt En⯑deavours, doing what we can, and [315] then we may expect God's gracious Aſſiſtance: But when Men expect Re⯑ligion ſhould coſt them no Pains, and that Happineſs ſhould drop into their Laps without any Labour on their Part, and that God ſhould ſnatch them up into Heaven when they Die, as he did the good Thief, they will at laſt find themſelves much miſtaken in their Meaſures: 'Tis troubleſome at firſt, I confeſs, for a Man to begin a new Life; but when he begins to habi⯑tuate himſelf to a Religious and Vir⯑tuous Life, the Trouble will ſoon go off, and unſpeakable Pleaſure ſucceed in its Place. It was an excellent Rule, which Pythagoras gave to his Schol⯑lars, Optimum vitae genus eligito nam conſuetudo faciet jucundiſſimum: Re⯑ſolve always to do what is moſt rea⯑ſonable, and Cuſtom will ſoon make it Eaſie. And thoſe, who upon Pretence of the Difficulties of Religion, aban⯑don themſelves to a wicked Courſe of Life, may eaſily be convinced, (tho' perhaps when 'tis too late) that they took more Pains to make themſelves Miſerable, than would have been to bring them to Happineſs.

[316]The Difference betwixt an Atheiſt and an Enthuſiaſt is this: The Atheiſt thinks nothing Unlawful, as believing no God to judge him: An Enthuſiaſt thinks every Thing that comes into his Head not only Lawful, but the Inſpi⯑ration of God, and as ſuch is promp⯑ted with a fiery Zeal to propagate it with the Hazard of his Life, the over⯑turning of Government, and embroil⯑ing the World: And when a Man is once fully poſſeſs'd with this Spirit, which works upon his Imagination, his Reaſon is wholly clouded, his Diſcourſes are inconſiſtent, he has nothing in his View but his preſent Impulſe, and as that alters, he purſues the quite con⯑trary, with the ſame Vehemence, not reflecting that it is oppoſite to his former Sentiments. Now this is moſt certainly a great Exceſs of Pride, which yet recommends it ſelf to many well⯑inclined and religiouſly diſpoſed Peo⯑ple, under the Notion of Abſtraction from the World, of Humility, and Self-Denial: For what greater Exalta⯑tion of ones ſelf can be imagin'd, and indeed Rebellion againſt God, than to think my ſelf exempted, upon account of my own Holineſs, from thoſe Inſti⯑tutions [317] which God has appointed, and from that Authority which he has or⯑dain'd amongſt Men, and by whoſe Hands he does diſpence his Bleſſings to us? What greater Deluſion than to think, that we can contrive a ſhorter and ſafer Way to Heaven than that which God hath commanded us? Not to be contented with that Station wherein he hath placed us, but to raiſe our ſelves above that Order by which he governs the World, (who as long as they adminiſter Juſtice are to be revered as God's Vicegerents up⯑on Earth;) to deſpiſe Dominion, and ſpeak Evil of Dignities, which is a ſign of Reprobation: It is no leſs, than aſſuming the Power of God to our ſelves, to uſurp his Throne, and as far as in us lies to take the Govern⯑ment of the World out of his Hands: All this is the Effect of Enthuſiaſm: All the Looſeneſs and Wickedneſs of this Age is to have no Principles, but guided wholly by our Humour and Fancy; and moſt of the Hereſies or Schiſms which have divided the Church came from this Fountain.

[318]St. Auguſtin tell us, That the mighty Suc⯑ceſs and ſtrong Proſperity of the Romans was a Reward given them by God for their eminent Juſtice and other Virtues: As to particular Perſons, the Providences of God are promiſcuouſly given in this World; ſo that we cannot certainly conclude, God's Love or Hatred to any Perſon by any thing that befals him in this Life: But God deals otherwiſe with Nations, becauſe Publick States and Communities, as ſuch, can only be rewarded and puniſhed in this World; for in the next, all Publick Societies will be diſſolved, and every Man ſhall give an Account of himſelf to God: The great crying Sins of a Nation can⯑not hope to eſcape Publick Judgments, which God may defer for a Time to give People a longer ſpace of Repentance, but ſooner or later they have Reaſon to expect his Vengeance. God hath Lead⯑en Feet, but Iron Hands, he is longere he puniſhes, but ſtrikes home at laſt; and uſually the longer Puniſhment is delay'd, it is the heavier when it comes. Experience in all Ages hath made this good We find through the Hiſtory of the Old Teſtament the interchangeable Providences of God, towards the Peo⯑ple [319] of Iſrael, always ſuited to their Manners. They were conſtantly Pro⯑ſperous or Afflicted, as Virtue and Piety flouriſhed and declined amongſt them. And thus God deals with all others: The Roman Empire, whilſt that People remained Virtuous, was firm and ſtrong as Iron; but upon Diſſolution of their Manners, the Iron was ſoon mixed with miry Clay, and the Feet upon which that Empire ſtood were ſoon broken.

Of KINGS and PRINCES, and the Education of a PRINCE.

THERE are found admira⯑ble Occurrences in the Lives of all Men, but much more in Princes, who moving in a higher Sphere, their Acti⯑ons are more conſpicuous and worthy to be tranſmitted to Poſterity, as In⯑ſtructive to their Succeſſors: And tho' Proſperity is more agreeable to our Na⯑ture, yet Adverſity is more Benefi⯑cial, when Princes make a right Im⯑provement of it, to ſhun thoſe Rocks whereon ſome Princes have been ſplit.

It is very neceſſary to accuſtom a young Prince to divert himſelf amongſt plea⯑ſant Men; one cannot find a more ſure and leſs painful Way to render him a moſt accompliſht Prince, than having ſuch Courtiers about him in his Youth; (but the Difficulty is to find ſuch:) A Prince will not fail to learn inſenſibly [321] the Manners and Actions of thoſe; and whatſoever he gains that way becomes Natural to him. Thoſe that are near him ſhould make uſe, as much as is poſſible, of that way to Inſtruct him; it being abſolutely neceſſary, that thoſe who have Wit, and are well-bred Men, ſhould not only be receiv'd by the Prince, but that Means be taken to find them out, for commonly ſuch Men are not over-forward to ſhew themſelves: They know how to be Content with their own ſmall Fortunes; and beſides, ſuch Men are ſo rarely met with, that thoſe who underſtand them, need not fear to be troubled with too many of them; for I do not remember, in all my Time, (who have ſpent many Years in the World) to have ſeen ſo few of them as at preſent.

To make a Prince ſpeak well, it is neceſſary to mix a little Art and Study, and a Prince ought to have ſomething of both; for to the compleating of a worthy honeſt Man, there is nothing more neceſſary than well-Speaking and well-Doing: What Gracefulneſs ſo clear a Source gives to all our Actions? How doth it beautifie our Words and Thoughts? How amiable a Thing it is [322] to Speak well when Sincerity goes along with it?

Young Princes are commonly more Active than Speculative, and moſt ea⯑ſily carried away with the Pleaſures of the World; yet there are ſome, who by Nature are ſerious enough, and are capable to retire into themſelves, as King Charles the Firſt, and King James the Second. It were to be wiſhed, that a young Prince, be neither too Active, nor too Serious, the beſt Temper is to partake of both, and be able to paſs with Eaſe from the one to the other. Some Attempts might be made to give a young Prince the Apprehenſion of certain Things with which Children are not to entertain themſelves, as ſurpaſſing their ordinary Capacity; for tho' a Child underſtands not at firſt what is ſaid to them, yet it prepares him a⯑gainſt another time, and they are as lit⯑tle Eſſays of Reaſon, which come not all at once. It is neceſſary for him that would attain Virtues, to begin gradually at the loweſt Step, to guard his Senſes, and ſet a watch upon the Avenues of his Paſſions, for Man becomes neither perfectly Virtuous or Vitious all at once; and Jeſus the Son of Syrach hath ſaid, [323] He that contemns little Things ſhall fall by little and little. The ſmalleſt Occaſion ſuffices to ſay ſomething that pleaſes; and it is of much Importance to form a Prince's Will agreeably, for then he will take Pleaſure to hearken to a Man that hath Judgment and Wit, and will be deſirous to be inſtructed by him: And if Perſons about a Prince have a Grace in their Words and Acti⯑ons, the Prince will retain the Manner how to behave and expreſs himſelf. This agreeable way of Talking is of great Conſequence, and the ſureſt way to acquire it, is to let ſuch as have and practiſe it, come into the Prince's Com⯑pany: Thoſe Princes who are young, and underſtand not all that's ſaid to them, want often that ſome Body put them in Mind; and when Princes keep Com⯑pany with ſuch, they take ſome Obſer⯑vations which they ſhould never have of themſelves; and we our ſelves find, if many Things had been diſcover'd to us in our Youth, which we have ſince found by our own Experience and Re⯑flections, we had ſaved much Time; and one Word to the Purpoſe then, had made us comprehend a World of Things, which we know not, nor ſhall ever know whilſt we live: But we reflect not [324] on thoſe Opportunities till we have loſt them, and we are not aware of them, till it be too late: All the World com⯑mits Faults, but the greateſt are only perceived.

Thoſe who have the Education of young Princes ſhould endeavour to make them Love or Hate that, which deſerves the one or the other, that the Prince may have a good Taſte or Diſcernment, for this would make him underſtand what he ſhould Learn, and the Means to be excellent in it: For if a Prince had be⯑forehand a right Apprehenſion of Good and Evil, the very Courſe of Things would inſtruct him, and the Averſion to what is Evil, whenſoever he ſaw it, would be ſufficient to avoid it: A young Prince cannot have too curious a Taſte to diſcern betwixt true and falſe Plea⯑ſures, and not to be deceiv'd in either. The moſt agreeable way of inſtructing, is, to do that Well, which we ſee others do Ill, by which we make our Life more eaſie: Beſides, thoſe that are about a young Prince, ſhould endeavour, that the Wit and Heart of the Prince ſhould be diſpoſed as they ought to be: 'Tis true that Wit finds out the way to at⯑tain Perfection, but the Heart is neceſ⯑ſary to put in Practice what is judged [325] to be the Beſt; and that which we call the having a good Taſte or Diſcernment is ofteneſt found in a young Prince, who is uſually born with more than an ordinary Genius; tho' a late Emi⯑nent Philoſopher holds, That all Chil⯑dren Naturally have near the ſame Ca⯑pacity, and that the chief Difference proceeds from the Care that is taken to inform Children: But I think the firſt Advantage is rather to be aſcribed to a happy Birth, and that Art does af⯑terwards perfect it; and I have always believed we ſhould not ſo much wiſh for any thing in a young Prince, as Wit, it being impoſſible not to have it, if he be Educated in the Company of ſome People; as to the learning by ones ſelf, it very ſeldom happens that the Mind, without ſome extraordinary Help, takes the right Courſe to do it: 'Tis true indeed, our late King Charles the Second was a very excellent and knowing Man, and had a great Inſight into Men and Manners; tho' in his Youth, by the Reaſon of our inteſtine Troubles, and the Rebellion raiſed a⯑gainſt his Royal Father, he was Taught very little; yet he had an excellent Go⯑vernor in his tender Years, which was the Marquis of Hartford, and after him, [326] the Earl of Newcaſtle; but when that Prince went Generaliſſimo into the Weſt of England, his Highneſs had the poor⯑eſt and weakeſt Man for his Governor that I ever ſaw; yet they who had In⯑tereſt in the Prince, and were near a⯑bout him, inſtructed him in ſo pleaſant a Way, that he was moſt agreeable in Converſation; And when he came to the Throne, if he had loved Buſineſs as well as he underſtood it, he had been one of the greateſt Princes of the laſt Age; but he was wholly addicted to his Pleaſures, and Chamber-Practice, which much ſhortned his Days; and yet he may be reckon'd amongſt the moſt admir'd Princes of his Time, who had form'd and inſtructed himſelf a⯑mongſt the beſt-bred Princes in Eu⯑rope.

A young Prince ſhould never be over burthen'd with a long Chain of Inſtru⯑ctions; his Tutor ſhould rather chuſe to ſpeak few Things, and let each Pre⯑cept take its Effect, and ſhould give the Prince a Reaſon of all he tells him; ſo that the Prince of his own Accord might inſenſibly make the Application to him⯑ſelf; it being much better to enlighten his Underſtanding, than to charge his Memory.

[327]And above all Things, he ſhould teach the Prince to be Free and Affable, which Virtues make Princes to be belov'd; and it is of great Conſequence for a young Prince to have the Art of ma⯑king himſelf be belov'd: When Majeſty and Civility are mix'd together, it makes Men find with Pleaſure that ſuch Princes are their Maſters. The more Princes condeſcend, the more ready are their Servants to ſubmit, eſpecially if they be well-bred Perſons, who never preſume too much. The moſt Eminent Princes were wont to communicate freely, and were very familiar: Caeſar was ſo with his own Soldiers, which ſo charm'd them, that when they fought for his Glory, they found nothing difficult, and were not apprehenſive of Danger, (Heaven takes thoſe Hearts into its Protection,) and in fighting Fifty Battels, which Cae⯑ſar did without loſing one, he was always very Active, and yet never re⯑ceiv'd any Hurt: Such Princes are al⯑ways belov'd; and tho' Fortune (which is ever inconſtant) leaves their Side, yet Glory and Honour never forſake them.

Caeſar was of this Number: He had nothing in him, which ſavour'd not of Grandeur; he was brave and full of [328] Civility; he would hazard his own Per⯑ſon, to ſave the meaneſt of his Soldiers. He lov'd all thoſe that loved his Fortune; he ſhar'd with them the Glory, as he did the Danger; he underſtood well how to make himſelf be Belov'd, Ʋt Ameris, Ama, which is a ſure way if it be perform'd handſomely; the principal Secret conſiſts in managing it ſo, that the Perſons whom one loves ſhould be glad of it.

There is nothing ſo much to be fear'd in a young Prince, as giving him an ill Maſter; for the beſt Natural Parts would be but of little uſe, if Care be not taken to improve them: One can never take any thing right without having learnt it; and who can believe that either to do a Thing well, or to do it better, if one doth it well, that Study can ever hinder it: We ſee in all Exerciſes, how much good Maſters are neceſſary; and it were very ſtrange, that the Body ſhould be capable of Inſtruction, and not the Mind; for what likelyhood is there, that Practice and good Maſters are effectual to make a young Man skillful in riding the Great Horſe, and that to the making of an accompliſh'd Perſon, they ſhould both be needleſs.

[329]The Body and the Mind are ſel⯑dom as one would wiſh; but the De⯑fects of the Body ſeem more difficult to be corrected; for the Mind is na⯑turally ſupple, and may be redreſs'd if a right Courſe be taken; and the Rea⯑ſon why it falls out otherwiſe is, when we learn to do a Thing of an ill Maſter, one learns to do it ill; and it is much more difficult to chuſe good Maſters for framing the Mind, than for the Body, for the Advantages of the Bo⯑dy are much more remarkable than thoſe of the Mind: To be able and well⯑bred to ſuch a Degree as one would have a great Prince, one cannot know too many Things, if we have Skill to make a right Uſe of them, and know how to Value them; but to have read much, or to have learnt a Number of different Opinions, diſcovers nothing of Certainty; for we know nothing well but what we ſee clearly, and that which we can make others ſee preſently, and underſtand if they be clear-ſighted, and we ſhould miſtruſt all which we ſee as through a Cloud, and which we cannot make plain to the Sight of another. There are ſome Princes who would have been very gallant Men, if Care had been taken at firſt to put them in a right way, [330] and to have ſhew'd them what was to be done. For a great Prince, upon whom the Happineſs of the Publick de⯑pends, by whoſe Example his People will faſhion themſelves, as being the moſt noble Model, no Care in the World ſhould be neglected: The Buſineſs is to make a young Prince Happy, and that all who live under him may be ſo; it being reaſonable that thoſe ſhould a little ſhare in the Happineſs who are in Duty ob⯑liged to Sacrifice themſelves for proſecu⯑ting of it; and therefore this firſt Point of their Education is of much greater Im⯑portance to them, than to private Per⯑ſons: For when Princes are no longer under the Conduct of Governors, all that they do, or ſay, is approv'd, or at leaſt it is ſo in Appearance; For no Perſon comes into their Preſence but with a deſign to pleaſe them, becauſe altho' he loves them, yet one eaſily inclines to love their Favour more; and it were a great Imprudence for any Man to draw the Hatred of his Prince upon himſelf, and to adviſe him as he would one of his particular Friends, unleſs at firſt the Prince had ſignified his Pleaſure to have it ſo: However, thoſe Perſons that are near about Princes that be young, (if they are not too much ſway'd by Inte⯑reſt) [331] may very ſecurely tell them in an agreeable manner, all which may con⯑tribute to their Glory and Happineſs: 'Tis certain, a very eaſie Thing to give them good Advice as to their Glory, but it is not ſo to their Happineſs, which depends more upon the Tem⯑per; and whoſoever will aſcertain a Prince what will make him happy, muſt know him perfectly well, for moſt com⯑monly we our ſelves know not what would be beſt for our own Happineſs: But when all is done, it ſeems to me, that with a very little Help, it were no difficult Thing for a young Prince to be happy.

Certainly, that young Prince is in a fair way to it, who ſees himſelf one of the firſt amongſt the Maſters of the World, and that Fortune hath nothing greater to give. And therefore Princes ſhould conſider what Pleaſure it is to do good, that there is nothing more Noble, and that this Delight was made only for Princes. For the more Fa⯑vours they beſtow, the more they are in Condition to grant, provided their Gifts be with Choice and Eſteem, which ſupports their Grandeur, and renders them more Powerful: It is not Riches that are principally deſir'd from Kings, but [332] Employments and Truſts, and that which makes Men deſire high Com⯑mands, is not for Conveniency of Life, for their Lives are by them made more troubleſome; but it is Hopes of making it appear, that they have Merit in them and are uſeful to the Publick; and when juſt Perſons that have Worth and Fide⯑lity are put into Employments, they make themſelves ſoon known, and their Princes are well ſerv'd: We have lately ſeen in England, a ſad Example of ta⯑king falſe Meaſures herein; the ill Choice of our late King's Miniſters was his Ruin: Beſides, what greater Slavery can there be, than that Princes are chain'd to their Poſts, and cannot make themſelves leſs, all their Words and Actions are deſcant⯑ed upon, and made publick Diſcourſe. A Prince cannot with Dignity quit his Guards. Fortune hath him in Cuſtody, a Train beſets him where-ever he goes, and there is no making an Eſcape, but ſtill he that is the Maſter of many is the Servant of more.

The great and honourable Fame of a King in this World depends more upon his wiſe Adminiſtration than upon his private Morals; the Goodneſs of his Government depends chiefly upon thoſe that adviſe him, and execute under him; it being an infallible Maxim, That he [333] is the worſt (at leaſt the moſt unhappy) King, who hath the worſt Councellors and Miniſters under him.

Princes ſhould endeavour to couple Warlike and peaceable Virtues together, to know at all times how to Rule their own State, and protect their Subjects; to honour the Good, and chaſtiſe the Wicked; to change the Pleaſures of the Body into thoſe of the Mind, to ſeek their Content in the Acquiſition of thoſe Things which may raiſe them above o⯑ther Perſons: But this Perfection is not eaſily met with at Court, where every Thing ſtands in Oppoſition to good De⯑ſigns; Princes are born to govern, and therefore they muſt govern well, with⯑out amuſing themſelves with Knowledge more curious than uſeful, which would better become a Profeſſor of Philoſo⯑phy than a Prince.

There is no doubt but Sciences do adorn the Titles of Princes, as Diadems do their Heads, and Jewels their Crowns, but the moſt neceſſary Philoſophy for a Prince, is to know how to do Juſtice to his People, and to defend them from their Enemies, and to underſtand what Perſons are able to ſerve him well; ne⯑vertheleſs many Princes enter upon the Government before they have paſs'd an [334] Apprentiſhip for it, and take leaſt Care of what concerns them moſt.

Foreign Languages are moſt neceſ⯑ſary for a Prince, and ſerve for a great Ornament to him; the Princes Electors of Germany would admit no Man here⯑tofore to the Imperial Dignity, unleſs he was able to ſpeak Latin, Italian, Sclavonian and Dutch; and the Empe⯑ror Frederick the Second could beſides ſpeak elegant French, Spaniſh and Tur⯑kiſh, which was very rare in his time: He was alſo skilful in the ancient vulgar Greek; and indeed the Intercourſe of Princes, who live upon the Continent, permits them not to neglect theſe Lan⯑guages without running a great Incon⯑veniency. The Engliſh Genius for clear ſpeaking and writing is always to the Point; they look upon rambling Diſ⯑couſes with Contempt, and as Men of Reaſon, they ſtand more upon Strength of Argument, than all the Pomp of Rhe⯑torick, not ſo much concern'd to move the Hearer's Affections, as to warm his Reaſon. Perhaps no Nation is more Satyrical and quicker in Repar⯑tees, which argues Wit to expreſs them⯑ſelves ſignificantly; we have a moſt hap⯑py Language, compounded chiefly of Saxon, Latin and French, of which [335] Saxon is the Stock, the other two being ingrafted into it. The Engliſh is ſo ſignificant that it does almoſt equalize the Greek, and does even exceed the Latin, in a particular Grace of com⯑pounding Words, which is as great a Beauty as can be in Language. In Point of Sweetneſs, the French and the Ita⯑lian run ſmoother, but they want Sinews, eſpecially the laſt. The Spaniſh is Ma⯑jeſtical but boiſterous; the High-Dutch Manly, but very harſh; whereas the En⯑gliſh is both ſweet and manly. If we look upon the famous Men of our Nation, which have been Learned, or Soldiers, we ſhall find many very famous, as Venerable Bede, Sir Thomas Moor, Lord Bacon, Smith, Spelman, Camden, Selden, Daniel, Drayton, Ben. Johnſon, Shake⯑ſpear, Beaumont, Fletcher, Sir Philip Sidney, Cowley, Oldham, Dryden, and ma⯑ny others. But is impoſſible to learn Lan⯑guages without travelling, which em⯑belliſhes the Minds of thoſe that uſe it prudently: A young Prince that travels will underſtand Nations, imitate what they have of good, and avoid the reſt; he ſhould heedfully regard the Laws and Fundamental Maxims of State, the Inclinations of Sovereigns, their Reve⯑nues, the Order of their Courts, their [336] Alliances, their Power, and their Fa⯑vourites; that Prince who hath ſeen Europe with Judgement knows every thing that can carry him to glorious Acti⯑ons, and certainly a young Prince that travils, profits more in two Years, than if he had ſtay'd in his Study ten Years; Travel teaches them to underſtand the Plenty of Countries, the Force of Ri⯑vers, and which are the moſt eminent Places of Traffick and Commerce, the Convenience of Bridges, the diſtance of Places, the Strength and Situation of Cities and Caſtles, the Number of the People, the Inclination of the Subjects, the Humour of Princes, the Sympathy and Antipathy of Nations, and many other things which may inſtruct a General of an Army to fortifie Places, to entrench, to Camp an Army advan⯑tagiouſly, to draw up a Body of Men in Battle, to lead an Army to fight, and to ſhew themſelves eminent Examples to their Followers. Travel alſo gives a Prince Leſſons of Temperance, Mode⯑ſty and Patience; and the Languages which are uſeful to all Men are moſt ne⯑ceſſary to Princes, and to thoſe who would have any Command of Armies. Spaniſh is the nobleſt of all Baſtard Lan⯑guages, it not being a Mother-Tongue, [337] but compounded of Latin, Gothick, A⯑rabick and Spaniſh: The Romans, Goths and Moors, having reign'd ſome Ages in that Country, did introduce a Mix⯑ture of all thoſe Languages. A Prince ſhould alſo learn the Mathematicks, which will teach him to beſiege, and fortifie Places. Theſe are the moſt needful Studies for a Prince, and not to ſpend his time upon Logical Noti⯑ons, but to chuſe ſuch Studies as are proportionable to his Condition: It is ſufficient that a Prince be ready in ſa⯑cred and prophane Hiſtory; that he take a Delight in ſome Books, and ſometimes conſult the dead, who will ſay that which none of the living dare ſay to him; he ſhould read ſuch Books as may teach him to know the Condi⯑tion of his Friends and Enemies; he ſhould learn Principles of Generoſity and Honour diſtinctly; to know thoſe that love the Publick Good and Inte⯑reſt, and to favour them with ſuch Of⯑fices as they deſerve, and to puniſh them that do otherwiſe: And tho' it be honourable for Kings to aggrandize their beſt Deſerving Subjects, yet a Prince ought not to diffuſe his Graces too pro⯑digally, leaſt the Servant ſhould become the Maſter; which in all Courts, and at [338] all times hath proved very prejudicial. The Planets would have little Regard to the Sun, if they had no need of his Light, nor a Servant of his Maſter, if he could do him no good; Princes ought therefore to be circumſpect in Diſtribution of their Favours, if they would not loſe that Honour and Re⯑ſpect which their Subjects give them. A King gives an Account of his Acti⯑ons to none but God; he ought ne⯑vertheleſs to act equitably, and not to plunge brave Men into Deſpair, than which nothing is more dangerous, who having loſt their Eſtates by their moſt faithful and long Services, thinking they have nothing more to loſe, are capable to make the greateſt report of their Wrongs; 'tis true, Kings may take the Benefits beſtowed, when they that received them become unworthy of them; but before a King comes to that Extremi⯑ty, he ſhould endeavour to reduce them to their Duty, and having tried all fair Ways, the Prince muſt be careful not faintly to execute his Reſolution, nor raſhly to enter upon a great Action, which in Prudence he muſt afterwards abandon. A Prince ſhould think ſeri⯑ouſly of a Thing before he enters up⯑on it, but having begun, he ſhould car⯑ry [339] it through, for there is nothing more repugnant to Authority of Kings than to act by halfs, nor any thing that en⯑courages Subjects ſo much to Rebelli⯑on as to ſee their Maſters are afraid of them. A Prince ought to ſpend ſome Time in reading, eſpecially Hiſtory, which will render him able and know⯑ing, and it is a good Guide, and what concerns Life which it does antidate, and makes the Reader contemporary with the Times paſt, and by running up beyond his Nativity, the Prince will be ſomething the wiſer for it, and will have a Stock of Senſe, without much Trouble of his own; and it is of great Uſe to perſwade by Example that which we have a Mind to. Hiſtory is a kind of Experience, and we may reap much by it; beſides there are ſome Hiſtories written by ſo good Hands, which tho' we know, yet it is a Pleaſure to read them, as Thucidides, Polibius, Caeſar's Commentaries, with the Duke of Ro⯑han and Sir Clement Edmond's Obſerva⯑tions upon them, and Hugo Grotius de Jure Pacis & Belli, and Selden's Mare clauſum; but to read over much, and to be conſtantly poring upon Books, brings neither Pleaſure nor Profit. Read⯑ing too much over-charges Nature; it [340] is Thought and Digeſtion that makes Reading profitable, which being well managed gives a great Inſight into all Things. He that depends upon his own Experience, hath but a few Mate⯑rials to work upon, and to take Mea⯑ſures wholly from Books without look⯑ing into Men and Buſineſs, is like tra⯑velling in a Map, where only Countries and Cities are well diſtinguiſh'd; but Villages and private Houſes are ſeldom or never marked.

Young Princes, after ſome Hours in their Study, ſhould beſtow ſome others upon Sports, becauſe the Mind being taken up too long with Contemplation will diſreliſh Study, if it be not refreſh⯑ed with ſome Recreations, in which Hunting is one of the moſt agreeable to Princes; and becauſe Youth runs eaſi⯑ly down the Hill towards Pleaſures, therefore Princes ſhould ſometimes play at Tennis; tho' moſt commonly young Princes would rather endure the Pains of Hunting a whole Day than ſtudy⯑ing but two Hours, which they think a Labour, which is really nothing but pure Delight, and Studying would be a ſenſual Pleaſure, if the Mind were capable of any in thoſe younger Years. For thoſe that have once taſted it can [341] never take themſelves off again in ſuch Manner that they become deſpicable and good for nothing elſe. As for Ex⯑erciſes, Hunting has always been the Recreation of Princes, nor never diſe⯑ſteemed but by thoſe that know not the Benefit of it. It withdraws the great Men about the Prince from Idle⯑neſs, which is the Mother of all Vi⯑ces, or from Gaming, which is unſuit⯑able to their Condition: It makes Prin⯑ces ſtrong, active and bold. Almoſt all Princes love Hunting, and apply them⯑ſelves to it, becauſe it is a Repreſenta⯑tion of War; a good Huntſman is, or may eaſily be a good Soldier. To ſur⯑prize the Wolf or the Fox, a Man muſt uſe a certain Subtilty, which teaches us to lay Ambuſhes for the Enemy. To take a wild Boar, one muſt know how to preſent the Boar Spear to Ad⯑vantage, juſt as one would do a Pike or a Halbert when two Bodies of Sol⯑diers come to puſh of Pike. To ſhoot a Deer or Hare running, a Patridge or a Quale flying, one muſt be as good a Markſ-man as the beſt Fuſileer in the Army; beſides, Hunting enures a Prince to endure Hunger, Thirſt, Heat, Cold, Rain, Snow, and all the Incommodities of [342] the Air, without which it is impoſſible to be a good Soldier.

I confeſs, Princes ſhould endeavour to couple Moral and Martial Virtues to⯑gether: I know Liberality is counted the proper Virtue of a Prince, it being much better for him to be Profuſe than Covetuous, Prodigality having a reſem⯑blance of ſomething more noble than Avarice, and really it is leſs odious: Nay, thoſe that gain by it make it paſs for a Virtue; but perhaps it is more pre⯑judicial to Poſterity, and more dange⯑rous than the other Extream: For tho' a King ſhould give away his whole King⯑dom, he would not ſatisfie all that ask: No, nor all that think they deſerve much of him: It is then more convenient to give with Reaſon, and never to draw ſo near the Bottom, but that the Prince may always have wherewith to gratifie Perſons of Merit; and above all, the Prince ſhould take ſpecial Care, that his Liberalities be exerciſed without op⯑preſſing his People, to avoid Murmu⯑ring, which is the ready way to pro⯑duce Rebellion. But there is little need at this Time of making Laws againſt giving too much, Princes are not too free in this Age; and there are not many that want an Overſeer in [343] this kind, eſpecially in our Engliſh Court. It is certain, that Kings, by the Eminency of their Places, are highly obliged to Integrity, becauſe the leaſt Blemiſh in them grows up to a monſtrous Deformity. They are the Primum Mobile upon which all other Orbs depend; and Aſſiadorus ſays it were more credible that Nature ſhould Err, than for a Prince to frame a Commonwealth different from the Conſtitution of his own Life; he being a Glaſs iſſuing forth Incentives to Imitation; and where that is wanting, the Government cannot long ſubſiſt. Was not Rome Warlike under Romulus, Religious under Numa, Con⯑tinent under Fabricius, Diſſolute under Lucullus and Antony, Idolatrous under Julian, Immerged in Arianiſm under Valens? To ſhew that People are always moulded into the Temper of their Prince, and where that is not, the Government is ſhort. And we find in Holy Writ, Judgment threatned to Princes, who have been a Snare inſtead of a Sanctua⯑ry to their Subjects: And St. Auguſtin calls them the worſt of Homicides, in deſtroying the Souls of their Subjects; and therefore that King who under⯑ſtands his Duty to God, cannot be ig⯑norant, how many Obligations of Vir⯑tue [344] are annexed to a Crown, ſince the Lives of his Subjects are ſhaded under his Protection; and ſince a King medi⯑ates between God and his People, it is as neceſſary that he ſhould adhere firſt to God, as he would have his People be faithful to him; ſo that he muſt in the firſt Place conſecrate himſelf, next his Kingdom, to the Service of his Creator; and whoever does not this, he overturns both Divine and Humane Laws: Kings are not to be eſteemed Happy for their Conqueſts, but by uſing their Power in the Advancement of God's Honour and Service. The Royal Dignity is not ſufficiently great of it ſelf to render him Happy that injoys it, by the ſole conſidering what he is; for if a King be left alone without any Com⯑pany, to think of himſelf at Leiſure, he will find himſelf to be a Man full of Miſeries, and that feels them as well as other common Perſons; and therefore carefully to avoid this, there never fail to be near the Perſons of Kings a great many that continually watch to make Divertiſements for Princes, and ſupply their leiſure Time, with Pleaſures and Paſtimes, that none of their Time may be vacant; which is to ſay, that Kings are encompaſſed round with Perſons that [345] are very careful Kings ſhould not be alone to think of themſelves, knowing very well that a King, as he is, he would be very Miſerable if he ſhould be left alone; and indeed, the chief thing that ſupports Men in great Employments is, that they are perpetually hindred from Thinking of themſelves, for it is the Noiſe and Buſtle that divert us, and is moſt grateful; Men have a ſecret Inſtinct that intices them to ſeek Divertiſements, which proceeds from the continual Senſe of their Miſery, and they feel another ſecret Inſtinct that remains from the Greatneſs of their firſt Nature, which makes them know that their Happineſs conſiſts only in Reſt; and theſe two con⯑trary Inſtincts flatter them, that the Sa⯑tisfaction they expect will come, by open⯑ing the Door that will admit them to Reſt, which is uſually ſought by ſtrug⯑gling with ſome Oppoſition in vain: And therefore Cyneas the Philoſopher ſaid well to Pyrrhus, who promiſed he would enjoy his Pleaſures with his Friends, when he had conquered a good Part of the World: But Cyneas told him, he would do better to advance his own Happineſs by injoying that Reſt preſent⯑ly, than to ſeek it by ſo many Troubles; but Pyrrhus could not be Happy, either [346] before or after Conquering a great Part of the World; and the ſenſual Life his Miniſters adviſed him to was leſs able to content him, than the Agitation of ſo great Wars, and ſo many Voyages as he deſigned.

'Tis certain, Man hunts after Felici⯑ty in all his Actions; for all Men deſire to be Happy, and what ever different Means they uſe, all tends to this End; it is the ſame Deſire in both, that in⯑clines one to go the War, and the other not to go; the Will doth never move one Step, but with regard to this Object of Felicity: It is the true and real Mo⯑tive of all Men's Actions; nay, even of thoſe that Hang themſelves: When Peo⯑ple believe their Prince is Liberal, Va⯑liant, and Prudent, they will more rea⯑dily obey his Will and receive his Com⯑mands with Reſpect; but to gain the Reputation of being a Prudent Prince, he ſhould be very careful that his Mini⯑ſters and Servants be Friends to the Publick Good, that they be Affable, Modeſt and Generous: The Prince muſt ſhew a conſtant Reſolution to maintain his People in their ancient Splendour: That Adverſity caſt him not down, nor Proſperity make him Inſolent; and to give a fairer Luſtre to his Liberality, [347] he ſhould take Care that what he beſtows do not ariſe out of the Oppreſſion of any, and being ſuch without drawing his Sword, or giving much to his Sub⯑jects, his Friends and Enemies too will eſteem him Valiant, Liberal, and Pru⯑dent, and all of them fearing to offend him, will pay him the Duties of Sub⯑jects, Friends and Neighbours; and he need not doubt but God will diſſipate his Enemies, and all the mutinous ma⯑licious Deſigns of his malicious Subjects and ambitious Neighbours.

We muſt know that Kings are conſi⯑dered in a double Capacity, that of Na⯑ture and that of Policy; the Politick Body never dies, and is never defective of Authority or Direction; the Acts of the Body Politick are not abated by the Natural Body's Acceſs. The Body Po⯑litick is not diſabled to govern by the Nonage of the Natural, by the 26 lib. Aſſiſ. Placit. 24. Juſtice Thorp's Judg⯑ment was, That the Gift of the King is not defeated by his Nonage: And in the Aſſiſ. Title Droit, Placit. 24. in the Sixth Year of King Edward the Third, a Writ of Right was brought by the King of a Manor, as Heir to King Ri⯑chard the Second, the Exceptions of Nonage againſt the King was not ad⯑mitted; [348] for tho' the Natural Body dies, the Politick never dies. So in the 4th of Queen Elizabeth, the Leaſes of the Dutchy of Lancaſter, made by Edward the Sixth, were reſolved by all the Judges to be good, tho' made in the King's Minority; and the Change of Religion made by Edward the Sixth in his Mino⯑rity was good, tho' he had not Age to diſcern what he did, being then in the Hands of his Uncle the Protector; and if Catholicks ſhould pretend to make void the Change of Religion made in that King's Time, becauſe of his Mino⯑rity, they would be laughed at by all the World, and their Pretence would be ridiculous.

Of MAN.

THE Tranſactions of this World are the moſt unplea⯑ſant Speculations that ever entertained my Mind; the whole Off-ſpring of Nature moveth as at firſt, but only Man, who was deſign'd Maſter of the whole, runs a Courſe contrary to all Order, and the whole Progeny of Adam is obnoxious to his Original Guilt. We have innate Affections and Propenſities to do Evil, ſince our firſt Mother's Converſe with the Serpent, and the ſad Effects of A⯑dam's Fate are derived to all; but yet no Evil is in us, but the Cure is in our own Power; no poiſonous Herb ſprouts out, but in the ſame Field its Antidote is placed. It is therefore a Wonder that Men who know they have rational Souls, ſhould only follow the Dictates of Senſe, and for one Hour of Pleaſure here, ſuf⯑fer an Eternity of Torments hereafter; for by embracing our Heady Appetites, we have chang'd the whole Maſs of our Nature, and have ſet our ſelves a diame⯑trical [350] Oppoſition to all that is called good; ſo that all our Actions are impertinent, and we level our Deſigns at a falſe End, and we wander in thoſe Paths which will lead us to the Gates of Deſtruction.

The Enjoyment of what the World affords is that we only ſeek after. The Devil began with theſe in his firſt Temp⯑tation of Eve in Paradiſe; and it ſeems he had not, four thouſand Years after, found out three better Engines for his Turn than theſe; for he uſed the very ſame in the Wilderneſs to our Saviour, the promiſed Seed of the Woman, that he had prevail'd with on Eve her ſelf in Paradiſe, ſo long before. Make theſe Stones bread; there's the Luſt of the Fleſh. He ſhews him all the Kingdoms of the World, there's the Luſt of the Eyes: Caſt thy ſelf down from the Pin⯑nacle, the Angels are thy Guard to bear thee up in their Hands; there's the Pride of Life. 'Tis true, the Devil can do no more but tempt us, his Power (how⯑ever great) is limited, tho' we cannot eaſily ſet out the Bounds of it; he has his Chains of Reſtraint, as well as Tor⯑ment: It ſeems an Invaſion of God's Prerogative, and a giving the Devil more than his Due, to allow him a Power of immediate and impreſſive [351] Injection into our Minds, without the Help of our own innate Corruptions; for 'tis by theſe we hold the Candle to him, and the Wedge too of the Temp⯑tation whilſt he drives it; the Mud is ſtill in the Bottom, he does but ſtir it up by ſhaking it, or drawing it forth by ſome outward Objects. There is no eaſier Way to out-reach a Man, than to out-end him. If once the Devil can get a Man to ſhoot with him in his own Bow, and make his Engines a Man's End, the Match is loſt (as we uſe to ſay) in the very making.

Now if any Man will but ſeriouſly try, he ſhall find it more poſſible to with-hold his Affection from the Things of this World, than enjoy the Satisfacti⯑on of his Taſte in it. Socrates had more true Joy in ſafely looking on all the O⯑lympick Games, and thanking the Gods, that they had made him not to need the many things they had made for o⯑thers Purſuits, than Alcibiades in his ha⯑zardous obtaining them, which made Socrates cry out, Quos diderunt dii qui⯑bus non indigeo. 'Tis worth our Obſer⯑vation to conſider the Toil that ſuch Men take, who are in love with the Pleaſures of this World, to eternize, if poſſible, their earthly Happineſs by a [352] Succeſſion of Variety, and to take off the Wearineſs of one Pleaſure by a⯑nother, between the Oil and the Wine, as Seneca ſpeaks. Homines inter vinum & oleum occupati; but all in vain; for after thoſe few evaporated Minutes of Pleaſure, the Body quietly fails the Mind, and the Mind the Deſire, and the Deſire the Satisfaction, and all the Man. There is indeed nothing more in all theſe Pleaſures, beſides bare Imagination and Expectation, which tho' they may draw out the Affections, do never ſa⯑tisfie them, nay, do the more diſſatiſ⯑fie and diſappoint them, and Pleaſure is but an Earneſt laid down for Grief, if not for Ruin.

This Adventure hath no other Re⯑turn, and if this be a Man's End, 'tis an End that quickly ends both it ſelf and him: Many have come to their End by it, never any enjoy'd their End in it. Alexander was a greater Conque⯑ror in overcoming his own Deſire of ſeeing Darius his Wife and Daughters, than in ſubduing them, Victor Magis Darii uxorem, non videndo quam Da⯑rium vincendo.

In the next Place, we ſhall ſee ſome Men rake Riches together, as Children [353] do Snow, rowling it up with no little Pains and Hazards of their Health, in⯑to Heaps, and then faſhioning them in⯑to Horſes, Giants and Caſtles, and the next Shower waſhes them away, and leaves nothing in the Place but Dirt. It was well ſaid of Themiſtocles, that great General, to a common Soldier, Thou who art not Themiſtocles, take this Traſh to thee, meaning the Jewels and the rich Perſian Spoils after a Victory. Wealth certainly is one of the greateſt Bankrupts in the World, and does not ſatisfie the Debt it promiſes; for a Man may as ſoon fill a Quart Pot with Vir⯑tue, as a rational Mind with Wealth; there muſt be a Proportion between the Ingredient and the Capacity. We call that Well, or Brain, empty, that hath not Water or Wit; tho' the firſt be full of Air, the other of Vapour, they are ſtill empty of what ſhould fill them, and ſo will the Heart of Man be, tho' never ſo full of Wealth, and much of it doth but let us ſee, how much more of it we want. The World is not ſo unequally dealt, as we talk, the Rich want a Stomach oftner than the Poor do Meat: If the Poor Man's Hunger and Labour be more, his Meat and Sleep are ſweeter, and what Hap⯑pineſſes [354] are theſe, that are as well not received as enjoyed, as well wanted as had; the Will would certainly never be ſatisfy'd, if it had all it deſired, but one is preſently ſatisfy'd if he renounces it; in complying with the Will we ſhall never be at quiet, not complying with it, we ſhall always be at reſt. Solo⯑mon and Job have beſt known the Happineſs and Miſery of Man, and have the beſt deſcribed it, one of them the happieſt, and the other the moſt wretched of Men; the one knew the Vanity of all Pleaſure, the other the Reality of all Evils, by Experience.

Pleaſure, inſtead of ſatisfying, doth ſatiate, but Riches doth neither. For my own Part, my Humour does not much depend upon theſe Things. I have always fair and ſoul Weather with⯑in my ſelf, good or ill Succeſs in my Affairs does not much move me, I ſometimes ſet my ſelf againſt ill For⯑tune, and the Glory of overcoming it makes me maſter it with Pleaſure; whereas at other Times I am very in⯑different, and as it were diſſatisfy'd, e⯑ven with Proſperity, looking upon Worldly Glory but as a Fancy: If we fiſh for it, we ſhall find it nothing, an Apparition, like the Night Mare in a [355] Dream, you imagine it a Subſtance, you graſp at it, you awake and it is nothing. Pleaſure yet and Wealth will abide a Senſe or two; but this of Glory can neither be felt, ſeen or underſtood; be⯑ſides the Slipperineſs of it ſhould make us undervalue it. (Let us remember the Conſul Bibulus in his triumphant Chariot by the Fall of a Tile-Stone from a Houſe made a Sacrifice, before he could reach the Capitol, to offer up the Bulls and Garlands he had prepared; or in that prodigious Favourite Sejanus, whom the ſame Day ſaw attended by the Se⯑nate, and torn in Pieces by the People; nay we need not go ſo far back,) we need but think of the De Wits in Holland, who govern'd abſolutely that Common Wealth, and were ſo torn in Pieces by the People in the Morning, that there ſcarce remained ere Night ſo much as a Mammeck of Fleſh. It hath rai⯑ſed ſome, but it hath ruin'd more; and thoſe whom it hath moſt raiſed, it hath much ruin'd. Paucos beavit ſed & plures perdidit, & quos heavit perdidit. Certainly if there be any thing glorious in this World, 'tis a Mind that contemns that Glory. Diogenes had more of it by his Contempt than Alexander by his Com⯑mand of it, when he commanded him⯑ſelf to be made a God.

Of GREATNESS of MIND.

WHEN Leonidas was to car⯑ry his 300 Men into the Streights of the Thermo⯑pyle, to put a Stop to Xer⯑xes's huge Army: Come, Fellow-Soldiers, ſays he, eat your Din⯑ner here, as if you were to ſup in another World; and they anſwered his Reſolu⯑tion. How plain was that Speech of Cedilius to his Men upon a deſperate Action, Soldiers, ſays he, 'tis neceſſa⯑ry for us to go, but not for us to return. This brief and pertinent Harangue had in it a glorious Mixture both of Bra⯑very and Prudence.

The Action of Caeſar upon taking Pompey's Cabinet at the Battle of Phar⯑ſalia, was Noble. It's probable that the Letters in it might have diſcover'd who were his Friends, and who his Enemies, and yet he burnt it, without ſo much as opening it; eſteeming it the nobleſt Way of pardoning, to keep himſelf ig⯑norant [357] both of the Offender and of the Offence.

It was alſo a brave Preſence of Mind in Alexander, who upon Advice in a Letter, that his Phyſician Philip in⯑tended to poiſon him, took the Let⯑ter of Advice in one Hand, and the Cup in the other, delivering Philip the Letter to read, whilſt he drank up the Poiſon. Reſolution is the inexpugnable Defence of humane Weakneſs, and is u⯑ſually attended with wonderful Provi⯑dence.

Horatius Cocles offer'd his ſingle Body to the whole Army of his Enemies, 'till the Bridge was broken down behind him, and then leapt into the River with his Sword in his Hand, and came off ſafe to his Party.

When Epicurus was ready to expire with an extream Torment of the Stone, This, ſays he, is the laſt and bleſſed Day of my Life. It is never ſaid of the 300 Fabii, that they were overcome, but that they were ſlain; nor of Regulus, that he was vanquiſh'd by the Carthaginians, but that he was taken; and yet there is a great Difference in the ſame Acti⯑on, done by a brave Perſon, and by a Stupid; as the Death of Cato was e⯑ſteemed [358] honourable, but that of Brutus ſhameful.

How wiſe and happy was Saladine, the great Conqueror, of Aſia, who triumph'd over himſelf, and in his victorious Return, cauſed a Shirt to be carry'd before him on the Point of a Spear, with this Proclamation, that after all his Glories he ſhould carry nothing to the Grave but that poor Shirt. So Adrianus a Roman Em⯑peror, to qualifie the exceſſive Joys of his high Fortune, celebrated his own Funeral, and cauſed his Coffin to be carry'd before him when he went a publick Calvacade through Rome, which was a ſacred Triumph, and a Heroick Inſult over himſelf and Death.

When Regulus was unhappily taken Priſoner at the Siege of a Battle with the Carthaginians, they ſent him back to the Senate of Rome to propoſe a Peace, and the Exchange of Priſoners; but he was of a contrary Sentiment, and diſſwaded the Senate from harkening to his Propoſal, chuſing rather bravely to return to his Captivity, there to be cru⯑cify'd, than to be inſtrumental to the leaſt Diſhonour or Diſadvantage to his Country.

Of CHILDREN.

THE Making or Marring is in the firſt Age of Children; for then their Minds, by their Parent's Skill, no leſs than their Bodies, by the Midwife's Hand, may with Eaſe be moulded into ſuch a Faſhion as will be durable in After-Ages. The Seeds of Virtue ſhould be ſo early Ingrafted into them, that they ſhould not know, whe⯑ther Nature or Precepts were the Teach⯑ers of them. Many Parents do endea⯑vour unſeaſonably to ſow Wiſdom in them, which does but corrupt their Na⯑tures, not yet ripe for ſuch Inſtructions; they ſhould rather let them enjoy that Freedom which Nature in Pity hath be⯑ſtow'd on them, and not force them to endure the Puniſhment of human Cares before they have deſerv'd them; let harmleſs Wantonneſs be freely allow'd [360] them, and let them rather fear, than feel the Correction of their Parents. To Colts and young Cattle we freely allow an uncontrolled Freedom, leaſt their firſt Strength (which is then grow⯑ing) ſhould be hindred; and yet we are ſo blind in what we behold in other Creatures, we either neglect, or will not underſtand in our own Children, who after they have fulfill'd the Folly of their firſt Years, Age does by little and little change their Deſires, and the Roots of Virtue will ſpring up in them; and therefore ſuch as will call the raw Minds of Children to too haſty a Ripe⯑neſs of Studies, are very Ignorant of the Strength which Nature beſtow'd on that Age: Some Children indeed have early Wits; as Papyrius's Childhood that was judged worthy of the Roman Senate. The Humours of Children are very va⯑rious; ſome ſeem to be made of a bet⯑ter Mould than others. There are often ſeen Preſages of future Abilities in Chil⯑dren; as in Cyrus, who firſt founded the Perſian Monarchy, who was bred up and believed to be a Shepherd's Child, till after a more ſtrict Inquiry, he was found to be the Grand-child of Aſtyages; and Cato, in his Infancy, was more than a Child; but this is very uncertain, and [361] they are often deceiv'd, who by the Be⯑haviour of Children will judge too ha⯑ſtily of their future Diſpoſition; for it muſt be ſome great ſign and firmly con⯑ſtant above the Levity of that Age, which muſt be brought as an effectual Argu⯑ment to judge of the Inclination of their future and flexible Years. Tho' ſome Children are more governable, and ea⯑ſier gain'd by gentle Uſage, yet their Manners are generally according to their Education; the neglect of Diſcipline, and the force of Example, makes the Difference, and cauſes Children to ſuc⯑ceed or miſcarry; but thoſe who are naturally moſt inclin'd to Ill are in moſt Danger; and ſince Education is the chief Reaſon of their firſt Principles, great Care muſt be taken to ſet the Byaſs right at firſt, and that Virtue may be early in⯑ſtill'd into their Minds, which will make their Lives happy for the future, and then Cuſtom will make it eaſie to them: And indeed, Children ſhould be treated with great Warineſs; they ſhould hear and ſee nothing that ſhould be dangerous in the Imitation, and the Indiſcretion of Parents is very often of ill Conſequence in this Particular; which puts me in mind of what Montaign ſays to this Purpoſe; who being preſent whilſt the Governante [362] was hearing his Daughter read, and there being an obſcene Word, ſhe for⯑bad her the naming it; whereupon the Father was very angry with the Gover⯑nante, and ſaid, She had done his Daugh⯑ter much hurt in taking Notice of that Word, which ſhe ſhould have let paſs without any Obſervation.

Childhood is certainly the principal Time for Improvement, whilſt the Mind is at liberty, the Memory ſtrong, Plea⯑ſures unknown to them; and they are like white Paper, where you may Write what you pleaſe; and we ſhould never deſign Children to any Profeſſion before their Capacities are known, and their Genius and Inclinations examin'd; for otherwiſe their Nature may be croſſed, and to ſtrive againſt the Stream is alto⯑gether in vain; and if Care were taken that the Inclinations of young Peo⯑ple were ſuited to their Profeſſions, we ſhould ſee them improve much faſter than they do; for Men muſt not endea⯑vour to fly without Wings, and to un⯑dertake Buſineſs that is too hard for them: The Paſſions of young Men often carry them with full Speed, when they want the Bridle and not the Spur; and like a Ship without a Pilot, they often over-ſet themſelves, being launched with⯑out [363] Ballaſt, and wanting a Compaſs to Steer by, they are ſoon under Water: And indeed, Youth without good Breed⯑ing is in a dangerous Condition, and ſoon loſt, being ſubject to great Raſh⯑neſs; and therefore thoſe that are Young ſhould be very careful of their Carriage, ſince we ſee oftentimes thoſe that are very promiſing in their Youth, flag at the laſt, and fall ſhort of Expectation.

Young Men, at their firſt Entrance into Man's Eſtate, the Heat of Blood breeds in them a wonderful Change, carries away their Mind with a Tide of inconſiderate Confidence and vain Se⯑curity, they know not how to be Pro⯑vident for After-times, neither can they conſider how obnoxious they are to the Ruins of Fortune.

The Office of Childhood is to Learn, and retain by a ſtrong Memory, the Deeds and Speeches of their Anceſtors; of Youth, to invent and ſpeak Things altogether new; of middle Age, to mo⯑derate it ſelf by Obſervation from both the former, for then our Bodies and Minds are exceedingly changed from what they were heretofore; and as we grow in Years, our Pleaſures and Incli⯑nations are not the ſame, even our Man⯑ners, and all our Deſires, are much dif⯑ferent, [364] and moulded as it were a-new. No Age of Man is more cunning than the middle Age, in diſſembling Friend⯑ſhip, and governing their Affections. It can then wonder at it ſelf, that it could ſo improvidently go aſtray, and endea⯑vours to repair the Ruins of his younger Years, and renews with much Vigour the Errors of the ſame. Memory is e⯑ver greateſt in Children, being then able to retain what they learn, and ſtill ſafely ſtore it up in the Cloſets of their Memory; but as Age increaſes it will decay, and therefore their Minds ought to be fill'd with profitable Hiſtory whilſt they are young; for Memory is like the Dew, which in hot Countries falls up⯑on the Leaves of Holly, unleſs it be ga⯑ther'd by break of Day, it vaniſhes at Sun Riſing. Things of little Labour and no Judgement, will eaſily be at⯑tain'd by Children, who are neither ſtrong for Labour, nor ripe for Judg⯑ment.

Publick Miniſters, when they have a Mind to prolong their Families in Ho⯑nour, ſhould always breed at leaſt one of their Children in their Office under them. This the French do conſtantly practiſe, which is diſuſed in England, to the great Prejudice of the Crown, [365] where thoſe great Places are moſt com⯑monly ſold, and commonly ignorant Men put into thoſe great Employments, if they have but Mony enough; believ⯑ing great Places make great Men, which it always does, as to their Eſtates, but very ſeldom as to their interior Qualifi⯑cations, which made King James the Firſt ſay, That he had a Secretary that could not write, and an Arch-Biſhop who could not preach.

The Chineſes have that wholeſome Piece of Policy, that the Son is always of the Father's Trade, and it is all the Learning he aims at, which makes them admirable Artiſans; for beſides the Dex⯑trouſneſs and Propenſity of the Child, being lineally deſcended from ſo many of the ſame Trade, the Father's more careful to inſtruct him, and to diſcover to him all the Myſtery of it; and this general Cuſtom, or Law, keeps their Heads from running at random after Book Learning and other Vocations. The extravagant Cuſtom of England herein is not to be commended, where all Men aſpire to Book Learning; when there is not a ſimpler Animal, and a more ſuperfluous Member of a State, than meer Scholar telluris inutile pondus. The Goths forbore to deſtroy the Li⯑braries [366] of the Greeks and Italians, be⯑cauſe Books ſhou'd ſtill keep them ſoft and ſimple to warlike Affairs. It is re⯑ported, that Groſthead, Biſhop of Lin⯑coln, had a Brother a Husbandman, who ſeeing his Brother come to that great Station, came to him in Expecta⯑tion of ſome great Preferment, or ſome⯑thing very conſiderable; but the Biſhop told him, that if he wanted Mony to mend his Plow or Cart, or to buy a new one; of if he wanted Tackling for his Horſes, or any other Things belonging to his Husbandry, he ſhou'd not want what was fitting, but he wiſhed him to aim no higher, for Husbandman he found him, and a Husbandman he would leave him; and to ſhew the Force of Educa⯑tion, and that the learnedſt Men are not always the wiſeſt, there goes a fa⯑mous Story of Thomas Aquinas, and Saint Bonaventure, being both invited to Dinner by the French King, on pur⯑poſe to obſerve their Humours, being brought into the Room where the Ta⯑ble was cover'd and made ready, the firſt fell to eating of Bread as faſt as he could, and at laſt breaking out of a brown Stu⯑dy, he cry'd out Concafum eſt contra Manichaeos: The other fell gazing up⯑on the Queen, and the King asking [367] him how he lik'd her, Oh Sir, ſays he, if an earthly Queen be ſo beautiful, what ſhall we think of the Queen of Heaven. This latter was eſteem'd the better Courtier. But from hence we may infer, That the learnedſt Men are not always the civilleſt and beſt moral Men. And there is too great a Number of them, who lead a ſoft ſedentary Life, feeding only their own Fancies upon the Publick, and therefore it were to be wiſhed, that the Engliſh had not ſo ge⯑neral an itching after Book Learning

I well remember to have known a Perſon of Honour and great Quality in England to have had three Sons by the ſame Lady, but of the moſt different Genius's and Contrariety of Humours, that have been ever ſeen; the eldeſt the moſt fantaſtical, proudeſt and fooliſheſt in all his Actions; the Second the moſt learned, ſober, and yet bigotted in De⯑votion; the Third the moſt diſſolute and drunken that could be ſeen, but yet very witty in Converſation; inſo⯑much that there could not be found a more pregnant Inſtance to prove that humane Souls come not extraduce, and by ſeminal Production from their Parents.

Of LAW.

IT is the Effect of Law, Quod Homo Homini Deus non Lupus, That we do Protect and not Devour each other; and therefore Ariſtotle well obſerves, Quod optimum animal Homo lege fruens, ſed peſſimum animal Homo lege devians, Man is the beſt Creature with the Law, but the worſt without it: The End and Aim for which Men enter into Society, is not barely to Live, which they may do diſperſed, but to live Happily, anſwer⯑able to the Dignity of Mankind, which End they cannot accompliſh without Submiſſion to the Laws, and living ac⯑cording to the Preſcriptions thereof, Laws being the Inſtruments and Si⯑news of all outward Bleſſings: It is an Engliſhman's Happineſs, That as he is Born to Inherit his Lands, ſo to Inhe⯑rit the Laws, which are our Birth-right, and the beſt Inheritance we have, which cannot be taken from us.

[369]Religion and Juſtice are the two Sup⯑porters of every Commonwealth, they are the Pillars of all Government, with⯑out them the whole State, Civil and Ec⯑cleſiaſtical, will like a melted Veſſel run into Confuſion and Diſorder. The Law of a Nation is the Soul of a Nati⯑on; 'tis the Rudder, by which the Veſſel of the Common-wealth is ſteer'd, 'tis the Yoke wherewith All are kept in Obedience; and that Common-Wealth, where Men, and not Laws govern, will be quickly like the Field of the Sluggard, all grown over with Thorns and Nettles; and therefore there had need be Weeders, that is, good Magi⯑ſtrates, to keep the Field of a Common-Wealth, from being overſpread with Thorns and Nettles, that is, diſorder⯑ly lewd Perſons, and they had need be good Laws that muſt keep in ſuch un⯑ruly Beaſts, the Diſturbers of the Peace. To what Purpoſe do Laws enjoin Pu⯑niſhments, if they are not put in Exe⯑cution. For Laws muſt not be like Cob⯑webs, to catch only ſmall Flies and to be broken by great Ones; it were bet⯑ter not to make any, for this makes eve⯑ry particular Man's Offence the Sin of the Publick, quis non vetat peccare cum poteſt, jubet, to omit the Puniſhment [370] of an Offence under our Charge is to commit it. The due Obſervation of the Laws of God, and the careful Ex⯑ecution of the Laws of Men, make a Na⯑tion flouriſh. They are indeed the ve⯑ry Spirit and Sinews of every State, for all Humane Laws have their Depen⯑dance upon the Laws of God, who is the Great Law-Giver, and the nearer our Copies draw to that Original, the better they are, and the more like to continue: In peſſimâ republicâ leges plurimae. And therefore the Curſe of the Prophet hath been expounded by the Multitude of penal Laws, which are worſe than Showers of Hail and Tempeſt upon the Cattle, for they fall upon Men; and where Religion and Laws are not preſerved, we can't pro⯑perly call them Common-Wealths, but magna latrocinia, great Confederacies of Thieves; if Religion be not upheld, if the Laws be not obſerved, if Vice goes unpuniſhed, and Virtue unrewarded, if a due Reſpect be not given to Magi⯑ſtrates, who are the living Stamps of the ſupreme Authority, all our Happi⯑neſs and Contentment in this Life and the next will be taken away, and the whole Frame of Government will fall [371] to the Ground and diſſolve. The Ru⯑lers of the Earth belong unto God, and from hence we ſhould learn our Duty of Honour, Reverence and Loyalty. They were the Sons of Belial that de⯑ſpiſed Saul. Without Governours or Go⯑vernment, one Man will be Bread for another; and we ſhould be as the Fi⯑ſhes in the Sea, the Great would de⯑vour the Small. It is no particular Con⯑ceit, but a great Truth, that all Duties are by ſo much the better performed, by how much the Men are more reli⯑gious from whoſe Abilities the ſame proceed. But if Magiſtrates, who are employed about the Publick Admini⯑ſtration of Juſtice, follow it only as a Trade for Gains ſake, the Formalities of it will only then ſerve to ſmother Right, and what was neceſſarily ordain⯑ed for the common Good, will thro' the Abuſe of it be the Cauſe of com⯑mon Miſery. The Laws without Exe⯑cution, is putting Arrows into a Quiver from whence they are not drawn out, this is to make the Magiſtrate an im⯑moveable Statue, a George on Horſe-Back, ſeeming always ready, but never ſtrikes. The Law without Execution is a Chimera, which only ſerves to fright.

[372]Juſtice and Fortune are painted blind, to ſhew us what the one ſhould do, and what the other ſhould not do; for the one gives without Reſpect, and the o⯑ther is in no Reſpect to take; for none ſhould execute the Office of Juſtice, but ſuch whoſe Eyes are blind from reſpect⯑ing Perſons, and whoſe Hands are clo⯑ſed from accepting Rewards. The Thebans painted their Judges and Ma⯑giſtrates without Hands, ſince when their Hands are over long, 'tis to be feared their Feet will become Gouty, their Tongue ty'd, their Ears deafened, and their Eyes dimmed. It is a Shame and Reproach to us to ſee Pagans that have ſhewed greater Integrity, and more Uncorruption and Affection to the Pu⯑blick Good, than we do. Civillians ſay, the Magiſtrate is the living Law, and that his good Example ſhould be a lively and perpetual Promulgation of that Law; for Example prevails much more than Precept, and reduces more under its Yoke, tho' naked, than the Law with all its Enforcements; and the Reaſon is obvious, for the Arms of Law only ſtrike the Body, but the Shafts of Example ſtrike into the Soul, and we ſee Men daily truſt more to their Eyes than to their Ears, more to [373] what they ſee than to what they hear, Facilius eſt errare Naturam quam Prin⯑cipem diſſimilem ſui formare rempubli⯑cam. We ſhall never ſee Princes frame an Age unlike themſelves. Under Ro⯑mulus Rome was warlike; under Nu⯑ma religious; under the Fabritii conti⯑nent; under the Cato's regular; under the Lucullus's and Antonies intemperate and diſſolute; under Julian Idolatrous; under Valens Arrian; and the Example of King Jeroboam caus'd all the People to commit Idolatry; whereas under the Reign of King David, Ezekias, and Joſias Religion and Piety were ſeen to flouriſh. For People generally are like Clay without Form in themſelves, but eaſily wrought by the Potter's Hand. They behold moſt Affairs with the Eyes of their Magiſtrates, and ſuffer them⯑ſelves eaſily to be directed by their Ex⯑amples, and to diſlike whatever they reject.

An ancient Father hath ſaid, He that is not a good Husband, cannot be a good Magiſtrate, for he that rules not his Fa⯑mily well, cannot govern others, which is a rational Deduction; but he that is not an honeſt Man cannot be a good Magiſtrate; for he that will make Ship⯑wrack of his own Reputation, will ne⯑ver [374] take Care of the Common-Wealth. The Juſtice every Man owes to him⯑ſelf, does oblige him firſt to regulate his own Affections and Paſſions, and then he will be more capable to ren⯑der Juſtice to others, for both natural and divine Laws, do propoſe our ſelves for a Rule and Meaſure of what we owe to our Neighbours. Magiſtrates are to give good Examples to others, owing it them⯑ſelves for ordering their own Lives, and they owe to it the Publick for Imitation. The juſt and good Man is a Rule and Meaſure of all others, ſince being what all Men ought to be, he ſhews what all Men ought to do. Integrity is ſo neceſſary in a Magiſtrate, that without it all other Qualities are but Inſtruments of particular Profit, and Publick Loſs. All the Grecian Common-Wealths fell to Ruin for want of this. Gold breeds the Scurvy in ſome Mens Mouths, and Ambition breeds Impoſthumes in ſome Mens Hearts. He muſt not look up⯑on private Intereſt but the Publick, and ſubmit his particular Affairs to the Intereſt of the whole: Virtutis pretium eſt non poſſe pretio cepi, her Reward is that ſhe cannot be allured by Reward.

[375]The Love of the Publick is the inſeparable Quality of a Good Com⯑mon-Wealths-Man, without which he is no more a Man but an Idol, as David ſaid of the Idols of the Gen⯑tiles, That have Eyes and ſee not, Ears and hear not.

On OLD AGE.

I Hope it will not be thought unreaſonable for an old Man, who can ſcarce re⯑member his Climacterical Year, who ſpent his bloom⯑ing Youth in the Service of the Crown, under King Charles the Firſt, who in the Battle of Edge-Hill, fought the 23d of October, 1642, receiv'd a dangerous Wound in his Head, ſtill viſible as a Mark of Loyalty to his Soveraign, and was ſoon after that Battle made a Cap⯑tain of Horſe, and from thence by de⯑grees advanc'd to be a General Offi⯑cer of Horſe, and ſerv'd in that Quality during thoſe Wars, and was engag'd in ſeveral Battles with various Succeſſes, which ended with the Murther of one of the beſt of Kings, accompany'd with ſuch barbarous Circumſtances as cannot be parallel'd in any Hiſtory, and fitter to be bury'd in Oblivion than remem⯑bred. I have thereupon thought it not improper to ſhew that the Strength of my Mind is ſtill in being, which with God's [377] Bleſſing I hope to keep in Repair ſo long as my Body laſts, and have there⯑fore preſum'd in this following Diſ⯑courſe, to ſhew ſome Advantages of Old Age, of which I am at preſent a living Teſtimony, even in this Year 1706.

The Life of Man is uſually divided into Childhood, Youth, Man's Eſtate, and Old Age, all which Degrees we bring into that narrow Compaſs, whilſt our Life conſumes inſenſibly. Infancy is only a State of Hope, and moſt com⯑monly ſupported by the indulgent Ten⯑derneſs of Parents and Nurſes. Youth, if well Educated, will ſoon bloſſom, and after yield Fruit. Man's Eſtate, like a Flame, well kindled and ſupply'd will burn long, but Old Age does uſually ſoon paſs away; and if we do not watch, we loſe our Opportunities; if we do not make haſte we are left behind, our beſt Hours fly from us, the worſt are to come; the pureſt Part of our Life runs firſt, and leaves only the Dregs at the Bottom, unleſs we take great Care, and then our Strength and Deſires will fall off together, and our Years will ſit eaſie upon us, when we're thus ſatisfy'd and compos'd; it ſmooths our Paſſage [378] to the other World, and makes us ſlide into the Grave with a more gentle and inſenſible Motion. Indeed if we could obſerve the State of our Infancy, when we came firſt into the World, with the Progreſs of our Growth, and the Be⯑ginning of our Reaſon, it would certainly be a pleaſant Retroſpection, but divine Providence hath hid this from our Sight. At our Birth neither our Limbs nor Underſtanding were born at their full Growth, but we encreaſe by Degrees, and being Infants in our Bodies, we are not Men in our Souls: The firſt ten Years we may call an Animal Life, the Powers of Reaſon are then feeble in us, and we do but ſleep that Time away, but afterwards the Advances of Age are very gradual; but yet this Gradation is ſo ſlow, that we cannot take much No⯑tice of it, nor ſee it with our Eyes, and ſo we think all goes well, ſince we are not thrown ſo ſuddenly out of our Youth into our Manhood, and from that into Old Age, which would be much more ſenſible to us, and concerns us more: But we walk gently up Hill from our Youth to our middle State, and as gently down the Hill from our Man⯑hood into Old Age, without perceiv⯑ing [379] the Change we have made 'till we come at the Bottom: However we muſt needs be troubled, when we con⯑ſider the greateſt Part of Life is no bet⯑ter than a ſlow Conſumption, and that at laſt we muſt fall into a State of Weak⯑neſs, and be unacceptable both to o⯑thers and to our ſelves: But we ſel⯑dom think of this, becauſe we ſeem to be the ſame Men in the Morning, as we were the Night before. Now he that would have his Health hold out to the laſt, and grow old with Advantage, muſt be regular in his Youth, and not live too faſt: We muſt husband our Conſtituti⯑on, and not throw it away 'till we have done living, for our Vices deſtroy our Lives as well as our Fortunes; Intem⯑perance antidates our Infirmities, and makes us die much ſooner than we ſhould; and tho' we have the World be⯑fore us, we do not play the good Huſ⯑band early enough; for 'tis too late to ſpare at the Bottom, when all is drawn out to the Lees. 'Tis true, we old Men cannot but be ſomething con⯑cerned, to think that we grow leſs and leſs every Day, doing the ſame things over again; and that we live only to nurſe up our Decays, which is trou⯑bleſome [380] to us, eſpecially ſince there is nothing in this World to make us in love with it, or fond of it; none yet were ever fully pleas'd with it; for tho' it ſeems a Juno in the Purſuit, 'tis but a Cloud in our Embraces; and there⯑fore thoſe who are ſorry to ſee their Voyage fixed, are over-fond of their native Country, and hang about Life a little too meanly. Indeed when our Senſes droop, and all the Faculties of our Souls and Bodies decay apace, it is then high time to bid adieu to the active Life, and not only to abandon the Vanities of this fading World, but the very Remembrance and Thoughts of them: Our Minds begin then to be nauſeated with the Ideas of our paſt Folly, which we falſly call'd Pleaſure; and that Retroſpect is unpleaſant, when we re⯑flect upon a Life to be repented of. It is but Reaſon when we approach near the Grave, when all our Senſes put us daily in Mind of our Mortality, that we ſhould begin to recollect our ſelves, and think whereabouts we are, that we may not be ſurpriz'd, and die leſs than our ſelves. It ſhould be our Care be⯑fore we grow old to live well, and then we may be ſure to die well. It is the [381] Duty of Life to prepare our ſelves for Death; there is not one Hour we live, that does not mind us of our Mortality. Time runs on, the Period is certain, tho' it lyes in the Dark, our Term is ſet, and none of us know how near it is, and therefore we ſhould not won⯑der to have that befall us to Day, which might have happened to us any Minute ſince we were born. This Con⯑ſideration ſhould make us live as if e⯑very Minute were our laſt. But we fear Death, only becauſe we know not where we ſhall go, and we never begin to reform 'till our old Age, after ha⯑ving ſpent our former Years in all Sorts of Vanity (which is better late than never) but 'tis a miſerable Caſe, not to know the Value of a Treaſure, 'till we are going to loſe it. To begin our Frugality, when we are ready to turn Bankrupts: We ſhould therefore begin early to do that which will al⯑ways pleaſe, and young Men ſhould carefully avoid throwing away their Time, as if they came into the World for no other End but to eat and ſleep, or elſe to ſpend their Days in Wan⯑tonneſs and Folly, and to make Vice [382] their Buſineſs. Thus we ſee in gene⯑ral, that Age grows worſe upon the Pro⯑greſs, and hath no Relief to expect but the Grave; yet in ſome, Health, Vigour and Senſe, hold out to the laſt. Many of the ancient Philoſophers and Romans were Examples of this Truth. Tully, who wrote excellently well de Senectute was a lively Example hereof, being paſt Sixty when he wrote his Philippicks, in which his Rheto⯑rick is more correct and moving than in his younger Orations. The Poe⯑tick Fire, which is uſually ſooneſt ex⯑tinct in Men, I have found by Expe⯑rience in my ſelf, hath laſted much beyond that Period, of which I could give modern Proof, but I will leave that to my Son; only this I can with Truth affirm, that the Poems I have made ſince my Age of Seventy, have more of Force and Spirit, than thoſe I had written ſome Years before; but this is a particular Grace of God, it being very unuſual in the Generality, and ve⯑ry hard for Men to ſeem young when they're old, and much more ſtrange to be ſo; for tho' at ones Death, Fuimus may make a good Motto, yet in Life 'tis ſtark naught.

[383]None can imagine how green and vigorous ſome Mens Minds are in Old Age, having a perpetual Conflict with their Bodies, who were ill-match'd, unleſs to ſhew that an active Spirit may be lodged in a decay'd Body. It is certainly a particular Happineſs to preſerve the Force of the Mind in the Decay of the Body, to live to that Age, that neither cares for any thing, nor ſtands in need of any thing; that tho' it can much longer, yet it will not ſtill do the ſame Things over again, which it ought not to do, Age ha⯑ving put an End to his Deſires; cer⯑tainly there can be no gentler End, than thus to melt away in a kind of Diſſolution.

Where Fire meets with Oppoſition and Matter to work upon, it is furi⯑ous and rages, but when it finds no Fuel, as in Old Age, it goes out quick⯑ly for want of Nouriſhment; nor is the Body the ſettled Habitation of the Soul, but a temporary Lodging, which we muſt leave whenever the Maſter of the Houſe pleaſes. 'Tis true, every Man hath naturally a Love for his own Body, as poor People love even their own beggarly Cottages: They are [384] old Acquaintances, and loath to part; yet old Men, tho' they may ſome⯑what indulge their Bodies, yet they make not themſelves Slaves to them, nor care any more what becomes of their Carkaſſes, when dead, than a Man does for the ſhaving of his Beard under the Hand of a Barber. How⯑ever Age it ſelf is not without its Pleaſures, if we knew rightly how to uſe them (the beſt Morſel being ſtill reſerved for the laſt) or almoſt it is equivalent to the enjoying of Plea⯑ſures, not to ſtand in need of them. Time indeed goes faſter with old Men than young, becauſe they rec⯑kon moſt upon it. There is hardly any Man ſo old but he may hope for one Day more yet, and the longeſt Life is but a Multiplication of Days, nay Hours and Moments, for the End of our Lives is ſet, and the firſt Breath we draw, is but the firſt Step to our laſt, the Courſe of all Things in this World being only a long Connection of Providential Appointments; and tho' there be great Variety in our Lives, yet all tend to the ſame Iſ⯑ſue. Death old Men find moſt eaſie, becauſe it is comply'd with without [385] ſtrugling; for by dying of old Age, a Man does no more than go to Bed when he is weary, it being childiſh to go out of the World as we came into it, groan⯑ing and crying. For theſe and many other Reaſons, I cannot agree with them that ſeem to impute much Inconveni⯑ence to long Life, and that length of Days does much rather impair than im⯑prove us; for if we follow the Courſe of Nature and of Reaſon, old Age is a mighty Bleſſing, were it only in re⯑gard that it gives Time leave to vent and boil away the Unquietneſs and Turbulency that follow our Paſ⯑ſions in our younger Years, and weans us gently from carnal Affections, and at laſt to drop with Eaſe and Willing⯑neſs, like ripe Fruit from the Tree; for when before the Seaſon Fruit is pull'd off with violent Hands, or ſhaken down by rude and boiſterous Winds, it hath an indigeſted raw taſte of the Wood, and hath an unpleaſant Eagerneſs in its Juice, that makes it unfit for Uſe till length of time hath mellowed it; ſo Souls that go out of their Bodies with Affection to thoſe Objects they leave behind (which uſually is as long as they can reliſh them) do retain ſtill, as ſome [386] think, even to their Separation, a By⯑aſs and Languiſhing toward them. Be⯑ſides, we muſt conſider that old Age is not always a Burthen and Incum⯑brance, there are ſeveral peculiar Pri⯑vileges annexed to this part of Life which will relieve us under the Decays of the Body; for the Imperfections of old Age are not ſo unavoidable as grey Hairs. The quiet Compoſure of an old Man's Mind, keeps him from wearing out ſo faſt, it props up his Strength, and makes him live cheer⯑fully to the laſt Moment; for eaſie Thoughts are excellent Opiates, which will not only mitigate old Men's Di⯑ſtemper, but make them almoſt to deſpiſe their Miſery. Thus moſt Men take Care to live long, but few take Care to live well, which is in every Man's Power to do, but in no Man's Power to do the former.

We conſume our Lives in providing the very Inſtruments of Life, ſo that we do not properly live but we are about to live, and we only propound to begin to live at our old Age, to which very few People arrive.

There are other very remarkable Advantages of old Age; for thoſe [387] who have had the longeſt Time to im⯑prove themſelves muſt needs be the wiſeſt Men; ſuch have ſeen greater Va⯑riety of Events, have had more Oppor⯑tunities of obſerving Humours and In⯑tereſts: Their Judgments are more ex⯑act, they know more things and thoſe better than young Men, bringing their Thoughts to a ſecond Teſt, for trying what they took upon Truſt in their Youth. Old Men are uſually free from violent Paſſions; matters of Moment are better conſider'd by them; whereas younger Perſons are apt to judge amiſs, their Proſpect being too ſhort; and certainly Age is the time in which the Mind is moſt diſcerning, and furniſht with the beſt Materials for Wiſdom: Thoſe who have been longeſt in publick Employments, whoſe Performances have been more than ordi⯑nary, who have done moſt Service for their King and Country, deſerve cer⯑tainly a more particular Reſpect, and ſhould be conſidered with more Re⯑gards, and ſhould have the faireſt Ac⯑knowledgments, and treated with the beſt Civility, like parting Friends that are ready to take leave of the World; but, alas! this ſeldom happens, for old [388] Services are uſually forgotten, eſpeci⯑ally in an Age where young Men ſee Viſions, and old Men Dream, their former Actions and repeated good Ser⯑vices being no more taken notice of, than if they had never been, tho' even Decency and Good-Nature ſhould at leaſt make them be reſpected for them.

Thus the State of Mortals in this Life is very changeable; if we are in⯑vited to caſt Anchor awhile in ſome calm, ſerene Seaſon, if we are permit⯑ted to Careen and Recruit our Wea⯑ther-beaten Spirits, enjoying ſome ſhort interval of Reſt and Eaſe, the Indul⯑gence ſoon expires, and we are forced to hoiſt Sail with double Diligence, leaſt we ſuffer a Wreck, for we fly at Random in a Sea of perpetual Hazards and Difficulties; and yet the ſhortneſs of Life is the common Complaint of moſt People, who make it ſhort either by doing ill, doing nothing, or doing Things beſides their Buſineſs; ſo that this large extent of Life will not per⯑haps amount to the Minority of Man; ſo that it may be a long Being, perhaps a ſhort Life; for it is not the Num⯑ber of Years that makes Death eaſie to [389] us, but the Temper of the Mind; he that would live a little longer this Day, would be as loth to Die a thouſand Years hence: Go we muſt at laſt, no matter how ſoon: 'Tis the Work of the Al⯑mighty to make us live long, but 'tis own Buſineſs to make a ſhort Life ſuf⯑ficient. Life is to be meaſur'd by our Actions, not by Time. A Man may die old at Thirty, and young at Eighty, the one lives after Death, the other pe⯑riſhed before he died. And therefore that Noble General Similis, who lived to a great Age, and retired from Buſi⯑neſs to his Devotion Seven Years before his Death, would have only this Epi⯑taph in Subſtance engrav'd upon his Tomb-ſtone: Here lies Similis of a ve⯑ry great Age, and yet lived only Seven Years.

Old Age is the Effect of Providence: How long I ſhall live is only in God's Power, but it's in my Power how well. How great a ſhame is it then to be lay⯑ing new Foundations of Life at our laſt Gaſp? for an old Man, with one Foot in the Grave, to go to School again? While we are young we may learn, be⯑cauſe our Minds are then tractable, and our Bodies fit for Labour; but [390] when old Age comes on, we are com⯑monly ſeiz'd with Sloath and afflicted with Diſeaſes, and at laſt we leave the World as Ignorant as we came into it; only we die worſe than we were born, which is our own Fault. I wiſh with all my Soul that I had thought better and ſooner of my End; but I muſt now make the more haſte, and being in good Health, I muſt Spur on, like thoſe that ſet out late upon a Journey: It is better to learn late, than not at all, altho' it be only to inſtruct me how I may leave the Stage of this World, with a perfect Reſignation, with a true Senſe of the Sins of my fore-paſſed Life, with a true Fear of God, and a ſure Truſt in his Mercy; and thus I ſhall ſink with Eaſe into my Grave, and tho' I die old, I ſhall riſe young in the other World, for that State is an eternal Spring, ever flouriſhing, and ſhall gently paſs from one Extream to another.