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<DATE>2013-12-13</DATE>
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<NAME>Anne Simpson</NAME>
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<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1">
<PB REF="1" MS="y">
<P>A DISCOURSE OF Friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>By <HI>E. G.</HI> Gent.</P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed by <HI>J. B.</HI> for the Author, and are to be &s;old by <HI>Thomas Fabian</HI> at the &s;ign of the Bible in St. <HI>Pauls Church-Yard,</HI> a Corner Shop next <HI>Cheap-&s;ide,</HI> 1676.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="dedication">
<PB REF="2" MS="y">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>To the Honourable The Lady <HI>SARAH COOPER.</HI></HEAD>
<OPENER><SALUTE>Madam,</SALUTE></OPENER>
<P>IT may be thought a pre&s;umption in me to af|fix your Name to the en&s;uing Leaves; I a&s;|&s;ure you (<HI>Madam</HI>) it was not their merit but you candour that induced me to make &s;uch an at|tempt, which al&s;o created in me a more then or|dinarie confidence and belief that you would o|verlook all tho&s;e defects occa&s;ioned by the unskil|fulne&s;s of the Author, with a charitable allow|ance: you cannot expect from the en&s;uing di&s;|cour&s;e, that excellency and &s;ublimity the &s;ubject requires; it neither &s;uits with my ability nor de|&s;igne, to &s;end into the world a &s;plendid Peice of Oratory: Truth was what I aimed at, which, though naked, will never &s;hame its Ma&s;ter; and experience hath furni&s;hed me with arguments not wholly contemptible in this regard: and the&s;e mu&s;t take place before any acquired accommoda|tion, where the advancement of truth is the ulti|mate end: there needs no pompous words to u&s;her in this &s;ubject: it carries &s;o much worth and ex|cellency in the nature of it as is enough to com|mend it without tho&s;e triviall accompli&s;hments; if nothing but blandi&s;hments &s;hould demon&s;trate the value and e&s;teem we have for truth and ver|tue,
<PB REF="3"> they would want their mo&s;t affectionate ad|vocates; but <HI>Madam,</HI> as Clouds and darker colours &s;erve to &s;et off tho&s;e which are beautiful and glorious, in this &s;en&s;e my poor endeavours may be of &s;ome u&s;e to your Ladi&s;hip, and as a foil &s;et off and commend your more curious no|tions: many per&s;ons of learning and Ingenuity have offered at this &s;ubject, but it hath been &s;o generally con&s;idered by them, that they have come &s;hort of that &s;atisfaction which might ju&s;tly be expected from &s;o &s;ollid and u&s;eful an under|taking as that of Friend&s;hip; neither have I taken upon me the task and exactne&s;&s;e of a Ca&s;ui&s;t, in curiou&s;ly anatomizing even the mo&s;t hidden and &s;malle&s;t particulars reducible to each head; I have only drawn out the faire&s;t and plaine&s;t lines, leaving the more artificial di&s;coveries to them of greater parts and learning, who I hartily in|treat to lend their a&s;&s;i&s;tance to this great affair; if they would from hence conclude a call, to draw this blotted coppy fair, and throughly effect what I would gladly have done, and wi&s;h it were not above my reach, I mean (Madam) a &s;olid &s;atis|faction in &s;o materiall and u&s;eful a concern as this is, I &s;hould think this adventure no great crime: but I have been too tedious, give me leave to add, that the Author wi&s;heth to your Ladi|&s;hip in the perfection of it what the work de|&s;cribes, and am,</P>
<CLOSER><SALUTE>Madam,</SALUTE> <SIGNED>Your mo&s;t humble and faithful Servant, E. G.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="preface">
<PB REF="3">
<HEAD>The PREFACE To the READER.</HEAD>
<P>THe Subject I am upon was never more nece&s;&s;a|ry and &s;ea&s;onable then in the&s;e unhappy times wherein we live, where we finde men generally &s;o vicious that vertue is almo&s;t extirpate, and not a few become &s;o mon&s;trou&s;ly bruiti&s;h, that no philo&s;o|phy can &s;weeten and allay their extream bitterne&s;&s;e, and &s;o flinty are their tempers, that love, that ten|der and delicate plant, can have no rooting among them; but that which is mo&s;t to be lamented is, that per&s;ons of a &s;ofter mould, and pliant, and yield|able enough to love and friend&s;hip, are fore|&s;talled by other objects, and &s;o averted, that they do not think it worth their while to &s;tudy and ac|quaint them&s;elves with this great affair: if any thing I have done could be &s;o &s;ucce&s;sful as to prevail with them to con&s;ult the rea&s;on, conveniency, and excellency of this great concern, and weigh things in the ballance of right rea&s;on; I dare &s;ay the bal|lance would incline another way then it doth with them now: I do not fear that any per&s;on though ne|ver &s;o envious &s;hould upon the fir&s;t glance of this book take upon him to prejudge it, but rather expect the Title Page &s;hould prove a powerful motive to induce and incline the Reader to a further &s;earch into the nature of that &s;ubject, that hath &s;o &s;plendid an a&s;pect: yet I do not expect to pa&s;&s;e this Di&s;cour&s;e through a vicious world and various tempers, with|out
<PB REF="4"> &s;ome reflections; the vain and vicious will be apt to quarrel at the confinement they will finde to their unlimitted fancyes and humour; the Critick will &s;ay, it is too trivially managed to plea&s;e their curio&s;ity, they can neither finde elegancy of &s;tile, nor the advantage of Hi&s;tory, which they will af|firm are u&s;ually the mo&s;t proper and principal parts of &s;uch an undertaking as this is, the &s;ubject in the nature of it is &s;o rich, that it needs no varai&s;h to &s;et it off, the reward and plea&s;ure which attends it is enough to commend it without complement; and indeed I de&s;ignedly omitted quotations, not that I &s;lighted Hi&s;tory, but partly becau&s;e I intended only to give my own particular notion of Friend&s;hip, as al&s;o what I had collected from my own experience and ob&s;ervation; and partly that I might leave &s;uf|ficient encouragement to per&s;ons of more lea&s;ure and ability to enter upon this &s;ubject, and add that part which is not only mo&s;t material for illu&s;tration and confirmation, but the mo&s;t delightful part of the whole concern; I mean in relation to the compo&s;ure of it, becau&s;e as the experience of others is greatly confirming to the &s;ubject, &s;o it is no le&s;&s;e plea&s;ing to the Author, who is never better &s;atisfied then when the truths he a&s;&s;erts come attended with a cloud of witne&s;&s;es; be&s;ide the Author of this pre&s;ent book may receive no &s;mall advantage, becau&s;e hereby tho&s;e errors may be corrected which unavoidably at|tend &s;o unskilful an &V;ndertaker: But not to de|tain or carry the Reader any further from my in|tended Subject, I &s;hall leave him with with this a&s;|&s;urance that I am his,</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>In the Service of Truth, E G.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV1>
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<PB N="1" REF="4">
<HEAD>A DISCOURSE OF FRIENDSHIP.</HEAD>
<P>_THe &s;ubject of the en&s;uing Di&s;|cour&s;e is of that excellency and importance, that it de&s;erves our diligence in the enquiring into the nature of it; it is the great Mi&s;tery of Friend&s;hip which contains in it things wor|thy, weighty and exceeding ne|ce&s;&s;ary both for the plea&s;ure of the &s;en&s;itive and rational appetite: men are tired in the cha&s;e of &s;atisfaction from one thing to another, &s;till pur|&s;uing tho&s;e &s;hadows that cannot be brought nea|rer, and the rea&s;on is, that in the humane nature there is an inten&s;e and continual de&s;ire of plea|&s;ure, without which life it &s;elf hath no &s;atisfacti|on; for life con&s;i&s;ting in the operations of the &s;oul, either the external of the &s;en&s;es, or the internal of the minde, it is &s;weetned by tho&s;e delights that are &s;uitable to them: the &s;ubject I am upon
<PB N="2" REF="5"> bids faire&s;t for a temporal &s;atisfaction; as ha|ving in it &s;elf tho&s;e excellent accompli&s;hments which are the intermedial &s;teps by which we climb and get within reach of it: Philo&s;ophers in their va&s;t enquiries into natural things were ne|ver &s;o bu&s;ie wholly to decline this moral concern, and in the conclu&s;ion when they made up their experiments, they never reckoned tho&s;e they found in the way of friend&s;hp inferior or le&s;s con&s;iderable then tho&s;e that were bound up in na|tural cau&s;es; for be&s;ide the conveniency they finde in this relation for the u&s;e and improve|ments of their natural acquirements, they arrive at more true and &s;olid contentment: men in tra|cing effects to their cau&s;es, as they finde plea&s;ure, &s;o they finde labour, and many di&s;appointments, their knowledge not &s;eldome proving the fruit of anxious enquiries, which mightily abates their content, and often they take up with little things they finde in their way, while they &s;till remain &s;hort of the end they de&s;igne; but Friend&s;hip, as it hath not &s;uch cragged and ob&s;cure ways, &s;o it hath more certain and direct ends: men do not in this concern like fooli&s;h Chymi&s;ts, who melt a great part of their e&s;tate in vain in expectation of the great <HI>Elixir,</HI> &s;uch have riches and trea&s;ures in notion and fancy, little in po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion; but it is quite contrary here; Friends have lea&s;t in notion, mo&s;t in po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion; when they attain this generous &s;tate, they finde a reall enjoyment of what they thir&s;ted after; we do not value things only for their intrin&s;ick beauty, but that which rai&s;eth the value, is the accomodation they have in them to
<PB N="3" REF="5"> our &s;atisfaction, that is the more de&s;irable part: now as there is nothing in all the creation &s;o good as man, &s;o there is nothing &s;o &s;uitable to the na|ture of man, as man him&s;elf; and that is the rea|&s;on ingenious men finde &s;o much content among them&s;elves; and this cannot but advance their content exceedingly, the &s;ymmetry and propor|tion men have in their natures and di&s;po&s;itions is the greate&s;t content: &s;atisfaction is derived from &s;imilitude, if this be wanting, however things may appear, they are really unplea&s;ant and un|grateful; like a garment that is too loo&s;e, or too &s;traight, however it may plea&s;e and humour pride, it will not content the per&s;on, becau&s;e it wants proportion to that part to which it was a&s;|&s;igned. Friends act<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> many parts in this relation, and all tend to profit and the plea&s;ure of each o|ther; &s;ometimes they act high, and then they ad|vance the plea&s;ure of the minde by communicat|ing knowledge and experience &s;uperiour and con&s;onant to the intelligent nature, other times they act &s;o as to gratify &s;ences, which is both ne|ce&s;&s;ary and convenient, if a due ob&s;ervation and &s;ubordination be allowed to the rational facul|ties, and &s;o equal &s;atisfaction according to the &s;everal objects is obtained: the&s;e and many other inviting properties you will find in this concern, if you plea&s;e to enter with me into the nature of it. But &s;ome per&s;ons are aver&s;e to all vertue, and con&s;equently to this concern, others through inadvertency wave and neglect the pur&s;uit of it from a &s;uppo&s;ed incapacity in them&s;elves, or the difficulty that lies in their way to the obtain|ing
<PB N="4" REF="6"> of it; this proceeds either from ignorance and unacquantance with this concern, or from a care|le&s;s and unconcerned temper; the fir&s;t &s;hould ra|ther animate, and quicken then ob&s;truct and im|pede, becau&s;e nothing is more incident to the na|ture of men, then to prize tho&s;e things mo&s;t that are &s;carce and rare, tho&s;e of an ea&s;ie and cheap de&s;cent bege<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> contempt: Friend&s;hip is not le&s;s con&s;iderable, becau&s;e it is like the &s;un in its clear|ne&s;s, which though le&s;s approachable is mo&s;t glorious; others they cannot admit of any diver&s;i|on from their &s;ecular affairs, &s;o as to &s;tudy this concern, they like the notion of it, and will commend it, but it is at a di&s;tance, according to the outward lu&s;tre not inward beauty, they fancy it, like children that admire the glad|ning rays of the &s;un that &s;hines in their faces, without the lea&s;t con&s;ideration of the utility and excellency of it; if the&s;e would make a true e&s;timate of this material concern, it would &s;wallow up the vanity of tho&s;e inferiour things in which men take &s;uch complacency, and &s;o ele|vate them, that no unworthy or abject end &s;hould &s;way their more noble part, which is the &s;oul, and &s;o enlarge and &s;ublimate their mindes, that nothing repugnant to its more direct dictates &s;hould be allowed: would we take a view of this concern, we may inform our &s;elves by look|ing into the &s;uperiour &s;chools and Academies, where we &s;ee men of all tempers, &s;ome ma&s;ters of their rea&s;on, others ma&s;tered by &s;en&s;uality; among&s;t the fir&s;t we finde the mo&s;t perfect friend|&s;hip which &s;eems to be made, not &s;o much for
<PB N="5" REF="6"> plea&s;ure as utility, profit being fir&s;t in their eye, that this de&s;igne may not be looked upon as &s;pe|culative only, &amp; &s;o be received with &s;u&s;picion as things not common to vulgar capacities are, till &s;ome experiment be made of them: I &s;hall en|deavour in a plain and familiar method to &s;ub|mit the argument I am upon to every mans rea|&s;on and experience: I &s;hall not refer to remote In&s;tances of this kinde, though I am not ignorant they would amplifie and illu&s;trate the concern, but confine my &s;elf to my own Ob&s;ervation and Experience: And becau&s;e a regular proceeding herein will be be&s;t under&s;tood, I &s;hall ca&s;t what I have to &s;ay into this Method.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, &s;hew what Friend&s;hip is here meant, and the Import of it.</P>
<P>Secondly, The &s;ubjects fit for it both for num|ber and qualities.</P>
<P>Thirdly, What qualifications are nece&s;&s;ary.</P>
<P>Fourthly, The great ends aimed at in that relation.</P>
<P>Fifthly, The plea&s;antne&s;s to be found in the &s;tate of Friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Sixthly, How Friends are to govern them|&s;elves in this relation of Friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Seventhly, The Conclu&s;ion by way of com|mendation.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, What Friend&s;hip is here meant comes fir&s;t to be con&s;idered.</P>
<P>There are Four kindes of Friend&s;hip, and the&s;e all derive from different cau&s;es, and produce different effects.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, There is a Chri&s;tian Friend&s;hip.</P>
<PB N="6" REF="7">
<P>Secondly, A common and univer&s;al Friend|&s;hip.</P>
<P>Thirdly, A relative Friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Fourthly, A morral Friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, Of the Chri&s;tian Friend&s;hip: I &s;hall not &s;ay any thing to this, but that it is the mo&s;t ex|cellent, &s;weet and durable Friend&s;hip, and mo&s;t to be ambitioned and de&s;ired.</P>
<P>Secondly, there is a common Friend&s;hip which we have with all the world as our fellow crea|tures, and this is more or le&s;s according to our intere&s;t in them, or their merit and de&s;ert; this is the mea&s;ure of this Friend&s;hip; the rule that we go by is the benefit &amp; advantage we expect, &amp; the accomodation that it hath in it to our &s;afe|ty and tranquillity, and other &s;uch like ends; or from charity which we are morally di&s;po&s;ed to as rational creatures: Friend&s;hip take it how you will, is very de&s;irable; con&s;ider it under this con&s;ideration as it is expatiated, or in a mo|ral &s;ence where it is confined, in all re&s;pects it is eminent: this common Friend&s;hip is as gene|ral an advantage as the &s;un, for as the &s;un influ|ences and enlightens the world, &s;o Friend&s;hip pre&s;erves a world for that light and influence: were it not for this binding and regulating con|cern, men like bea&s;ts would devour one another, every man naturally ambitioning rule and hating &s;ubjection: were it not for this confinement that hath an univer&s;al influence upon all per&s;ons and tran&s;actions, what tyranny would reign in the Courts of Princes? what rebellion among &s;ub|jects? by this binding concern Princes are made
<PB N="7" REF="7"> almo&s;t unlimitable, and &s;ubjects mo&s;t free: it is the undi&s;&s;embled affection of Princes upon which the freedom and happine&s;s of the people are firmly planted: Friend&s;hip, is that which &s;ecures Families, otherwi&s;e all things would be in con|fu&s;ion there; Brethren like <HI>Cain</HI> would ri&s;e up one again&s;t another, and a mans enemies be them of his own hou&s;e: be&s;ides this, the preju|dice would yer go higher, and all men mu&s;t &s;tand as in <HI>Nehemiahs</HI> time, with their weapons in one hand, and work in the other: &s;ince the progeny of <HI>Adam</HI> is encrea&s;ed to a va&s;t &s;ociety and numerous i&s;&s;ue, all manner of di&s;a&s;ters, as Famine, Pe&s;tilence, Deluge, Fire, Wilde Bea&s;ts, have not been &s;o de&s;tructive of man as man him&s;elf, which was occa&s;ioned by this want of Friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Thlrdly, There is a Friend&s;hip among Relati|ons, as that between Father and &s;on, Husband and Wife, and Brethren, the&s;e Relations make Friend&s;hips, and &s;uch as mu&s;t not give place to any other; and this proceeds from natural prin|ciples, which obliges to duty and Obligations not to be violated; of which I &s;hall &s;peak more in another place.</P>
<P>Fourthly, There is a Frend&s;hip that is groun|ded purely upon moral Principles, and for di&s;tinction we call it a moral Friend&s;hip: here is no Obligation preceeding, as in that of relation, but every man is left to his free choice and electi|on, and is governed by prudential and moral &s;wa&s;ion; a Father be&s;ide his own inclination is bound to love his &s;on, the law of nature bindes
<PB N="8" REF="8"> him to it, and a &s;on his Father in like manner; but no man is bound to love any per&s;on with a complacential love, nor can he do it, except &s;uch an one that he can finde upon prudent con&s;iderati|ons agreeable to his rea&s;on and fancy, the&s;e are the mo&s;t proper and powerful motives to excite the affections: Friend&s;hip is equal in it &s;elf to all the world, and hath no difference, but is diffe|renced by accidents, and by the capacities or in|capacities of them that receive it; charity com|mands us not to be enemies to any, and rea&s;on and prudence directs us to be mo&s;t friendly to them that are mo&s;t u&s;eful and de&s;erving: if we have rea&s;on to love many, we have much more rea&s;on to love &s;ome more then others; and if my affection be according to rea&s;on, I mu&s;t love mo&s;t where I &s;ee mo&s;t rea&s;on: this moral friend|&s;hip as it flows from the mo&s;t generous principles &s;o it produceth the mo&s;t de&s;irable effects; we may make an e&s;timate of it by its cau&s;es and ef|fects, &s;or its cau&s;es it derives either from a na|tive candour and generofity of minde, or from a noble and ingenious education, or &s;omething jointly from both&punc; the&s;e &s;eem as good originals as any thing meerly moral can proceed from; and hence it is that we finde tho&s;e of great minds and extraction mo&s;t obliging; whereas tho&s;e of ab|ject births and &s;pirits are of a quite differing na|ture; ths fir&s;t are governed by rea&s;on which is &s;till the &s;ame, and will act equally and con&s;onant to it &s;elf, excluding an arbitrary will; for he that doth things this moment becau&s;e he will, may the next have as weighty arguments to do &s;ome
<PB N="9" REF="8"> contrary, and &s;o &s;pend his whole time in unravel|ling his &s;piders webs, &s;till lying under the la&s;h of the &s;uperiour faculties, which will be con&s;tantly following him with grating reflections, who re|&s;i&s;t its more direct admonitions, numerous are the effects that proceed&punc; from this cau&s;e: I &s;hall point at two or three briefly.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, men are hereby made &s;o like God, that no|thing can more a&s;&s;imilate man to God, love being a &s;upream attribute of the unchangeable being, &amp; prepares and enables us to a conformiry, to the Divine Law.</P>
<P>Secondly, Friend&s;hip calls home our wandring fancy, that haply may range after a thou&s;and va|nities, which may allure the affections, but can never &s;atis&s;ie them, and contracts them to objects that are &s;olid and excellent: all men naturally af|pire after happine&s;s, but few finde it, becau&s;e they either mi&s;take the way or the end; &s;ome place it in wi&s;dom, &s;ome in honour, others in riches, taking up with &s;omething &s;hort of the great end; there is more &s;atisfaction to be had in a faithful &s;erious friend then in all &s;ublunary things; nothing can reach our content, but that which can rationally engage the affections, and this cannot be done by riches, humane rea&s;on or plea&s;ure: we may adde, the mo&s;t binding rela|tions and the mo&s;t powerful obligations that plea&s;ure can invent, not any of the&s;e nor all to|gether can do it, and that becau&s;e there is not worth enough in them to attract the heart and af|fections, nor weight enough in them to &s;atisfie rea&s;on, nor power to lay any re&s;traint upon ex|orbitant
<PB N="10" REF="9"> pa&s;&s;ions &amp; unlimited fancies, but friend|&s;hip can do all this: there is love to attract, no|thing &s;o attractive as love it &s;elf: it comes always attended with the lucre of reward and plea&s;ure: and hcreby it in&s;inuates it &s;elf and lays con&s;traints and limitations upon the per&s;on in&s;en&s;ibly with|out force or violence, and &s;o makes an ab&s;olute conque&s;t.</P>
<P>Thirdly, Friend&s;hip is exemplary vertue, and carries in its front the cleare&s;t conviction of vice: Philo&s;ophers were of opinion that no true love could be among&s;t any but ingenious men: per&s;ons that are vicious cannot build their wood, hay and &s;tubble upon &s;o &s;olid a foundati|on as that of friend&s;hip, yet this concern harh &s;uch credit with the wor&s;t of men, that it hath not wanted advocates among its greate&s;t enemies, which though they have been never &s;o vicious and indu&s;trious to defame vertue and condemn it as men do the light, becau&s;e their weak eyes can|not receive the lu&s;ter of it, yet they judge it mo&s;t amicable, and they can be&s;tow prai&s;es upon ver|tuous men, and commend the radency of that &s;tate they employ their utmo&s;t power to circumvent and de&s;troy: they can as well hold a Lion in a twine thred as confine their unruly pa&s;&s;ions, and gra&s;p the air as give check to one lu&s;t: the&s;e are the unhappy &s;ubjects of tho&s;e skilful Artificers that vitiate men in their per&s;ons to corrupt their principles, and when all hopes of vertue is lo&s;t, they will ea&s;ily be per&s;waded into all the infelici|ty of a contrary &s;tate: the&s;e are &s;o deeply plun|ged in vice, that they are contented that the la&s;t
<PB N="11" REF="9" MS="y"> &s;hould be rai&s;ed upon the ruine of the fir&s;t, and while they catch after the one with impetuous vi|olence, they can tamely endure the other to be vilifyed and de&s;pi&s;ed: whereas virtuous men can view them in their hurry and maze, though with pity to them, with &s;atisfaction to them|&s;elves, while they with &s;erenity and a calm minde can regulate their opinions, and confine a wandring fancy, and reduce things to their ju&s;t value: and however this loo&s;e age, the dreg of times, may contemn things in them&s;elves mo&s;t de&s;erving, magnifying an arbitrary will, and trampling upon all that oppo&s;e it, the&s;e look up|on their Trophees as mi&s;erable that is built upon vertue and honour; as a clear day befriends us with more di&s;tinct pro&s;pect of di&s;tant objects, &s;o when there is quietne&s;s within, then we can look about us, and &s;ee what excellencys invite the rea&s;on and affection: when vain men as a ju&s;t re|ward of their &s;en&s;uality are clouded; and it is not &s;eldom, that melancholy, that black pa&s;&s;ion over&s;preads the mind like an Egyptian darkne&s;s, admitting no allay, but hurrying men blinde|fold into their own ruine: Let none think this a &s;cheme of di&s;cour&s;e, &s;ince there is nothing more common then to &s;ee men vitiate their principles as well as their duties, and be wor&s;e then their nature inclines them to: many evils are commit|ted again&s;t the grain, and with violence to con|&s;titution: if the be&s;t &s;en&s;uality be too trifling to maintain any proportion with vertue and ho|nour, how far wide mu&s;t they needs be that &s;tand in competition with vertue; tho&s;e that have &s;uch
<PB N="12" REF="10"> degenerate wills as that they can exchange liber|ty for licentiou&s;ne&s;s, have lo&s;t their freedom, and are contracted to low and ba&s;e objects: I would gladly vindicate vertue, and make it il|lu&s;trious, it is my de&s;igne in this Di&s;cour&s;e: there is but one way for the obtaining that end, and that is by making it as radiant as I can, that by the &s;plendour of it mens eyes may be drawn off from wor&s;e objects; but &s;ome &s;pirits are &s;o di&s;-ingenious, that the mo&s;t glorious rewards will not animate them, like brutes they are not concerned in all the happine&s;s to be found above in the region of rea&s;on, but would relinqui&s;h or re&s;igne any portion there, &s;o they may &s;ecure and enjoy husks and draught: the&s;e prodigally &s;pend their time and trea&s;ure upon &s;uch trifles that will reward them with poverty and vexati|on, the certain reward and portion of tho&s;e that are not capable of more generous re&s;entments; but it is time to take leave of this digre&s;&s;ion, and come to the point.</P>
<P>The next thing that comes under our con&s;ide|ration, is, <HI>what a Moral Friend&s;hip imports:</HI> It im|ports the clo&s;e&s;t union, the mo&s;t generous con|tract, thc &s;weete&s;t communion, the &s;tronge&s;t re|&s;olutions between per&s;ons that &s;tudy nothing more then the &s;atisfaction one of another in all things both divine and humane.</P>
<P>I purpo&s;e not to &s;peak to every individual part of this Propo&s;ition, that would take up more time then I have de&s;igned for this undertaking, and &s;well this little Tract to a volume; as al&s;o beeau&s;e I &s;hall occa&s;ionally take them all in the
<PB N="13" REF="10"> Di&s;cour&s;e that &s;ollows, I &s;hall only at pre&s;ent explain my meaning in a general way, and &s;o proceed: By Union I mean a union of hearts, which is mo&s;t exeellent as to its original and ef|fects; it hath a higher cau&s;e, and derives from the mo&s;t noble &s;pring, and its con&s;equents are proportionate: It is natural to every producti|on to bear &s;ymetry and proportion to that which produceth it; from this heart-union &s;prings the mo&s;t complacential communion and fellow&s;hip: Friend&s;hip is love and &s;ociety mixt together, which make it mo&s;t delightful in this &s;ociable &s;tate; men do not only meet with u&s;eful diver|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">i&s;ements, the want of which is the great &s;pring of mi&s;chief, but they finde ingenious adverti&s;e|ments con&s;onant to the intelligent nature, toge|ther with an intire affection, which is the ax<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">s upon which this great concern turns, &s;econded with genero&s;ity its mo&s;t con&s;tant and grateful at|tendant; as al&s;o a fixed re&s;olution which makes the wheel, though always turning, never uncer|tain: By how much the more free any thing is, by &s;o much the more la&s;ting and durable fixed|ne&s;s twi&s;ts all the other requi&s;ites; &s;o that they binde more &s;trongly; and this makes the union &s;o <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ntire, that friends have the &s;ame intere&s;t, the &s;ame choice, and in a &s;ence they communicate and exchange properties, and there is but one &s;oul between them: Friend&s;hip is a tree loaden with precious fruit, well rooted &amp; never decaying, no warmth is at its root; it is not like <HI>Jonas's</HI> gourd that came up in a night, and peri&s;hed in a night; Frend&s;hip thus fixed is unmoveable to all the ef|fects of contrary motives.</P>
<PB N="14" REF="11">
<P>Thirdly, the &s;ubjects fit for this moral Friend|&s;hip comes next to be con&s;idered, and we mu&s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> con&s;ider them,</P>
<LIST>
<ITEM>1. As to their Numbers.</ITEM>
<ITEM>2. Their Acquaintance.</ITEM>
<ITEM>3. Their Qualities.</ITEM>
<ITEM>4. Their Equality.</ITEM>
</LIST>
<P>Fir&s;t, The number of per&s;ons; this mu&s;t be heedfully regarded: Friend&s;hip &s;trictly taken ac|cording to our method, excludes all per&s;ons a|bove two, more the Law calls riots, and lov<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> calls Rivals and Competitors, which cannot be allowed in this concern, but with hazard to the foundation, which is built on union &amp; integrity &punc; be&s;ides the expectation of friends are &s;o large and va&s;t, that nothing but a full and ample po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion is accounted any thing: I cannot divide my af|fection, and the heart remain intire, the hear<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> goes out in them, and nece&s;&s;arily is divided; and that is &s;o diametrically contrary to the nature o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> Friend&s;hip, that it is like the taking away of the Foundation, which draws the whole Fabrick af|ter it, or &s;uch a rent as mu&s;t of nece&s;&s;ity de&s;troy the mo&s;t e&s;&s;ential props, after which it mu&s;t ine|vitably moulder into its fir&s;t nothing.</P>
<P>Secondly, per&s;ons fit for this concern are no<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> &s;trangers, as tho&s;e are not fit at all that are &s;tran+gers and unknown, &s;o they are mo&s;t fit that are be&s;t known in their natures and di&s;po&s;itions, an<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> hereby many inconveniencies are avoided; fir&s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> di&s;appointments that are always cro&s;s but cruel in love: prudence directs us to treat with per+&s;ons at a di&s;tance before we take them into ou<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">
<PB N="15" REF="11" MS="y"> bo&s;ome, le&s;t our ignorant occa&s;ions, our vexa|tion and trouble in ca&s;e of di&s;appointment, our ha&s;ty fixing upon &s;ome unequal object, as it in|&s;nares the affection and betrays them, &s;o it puts an undervalue upon the judgment: men that have made an unequal choice how many incon|veniencies do they draw upon them&s;elves, &s;ome|times the head is di&s;tracted, and this is de&s;tru|ctive of their peace and tranquillity: the head is filled with trouble&s;om notions and contrivances, how it may hand&s;omely manage a breath in that friend&s;hip that can neither rationally be continu|ed nor credibly broken, that is a grating con|viction that di&s;covers errours in tho&s;e things to which the heart is nearly united; how to unite that knot that cannot be loo&s;ed without many a piece of &s;elf-denial is not ea&s;ily learned, becau&s;e it cannot be done without grief and trouble: a &s;eparation from them we dearly love is very hard, though never &s;o good rea&s;on appears for it, pa&s;&s;ion being violent, wilfull and impetuous, ea&s;ily &s;educed in the fir&s;t choice, afterward hard|ly reclaimed: for as nothing is more ea&s;ily &s;ur|pri&s;ed then the fancy, &s;o nothing will be more hardly convinced of its errour.</P>
<P>Secondly, The lower appetite may be preju|diced by precipitancy, for the troubles of the minde hath a mighty influence upon the body, and they often torment one the other: the pains of the body proves no &s;mall detriment to the minde; &s;harp pains in the body &s;o di&s;compo&s;eth the mind, that its made unfit for its high &amp; noble operations, &s;o that it cannot perform its acts with
<PB N="16" REF="12"> that delight and freedom: Philo&s;ophers took a great deal of care &s;peedily to cure all di&s;tempers of the body, that no ob&s;truction thereby might impede the pur&s;uit of knowledge: As the calm|ne&s;s of the minde mightily prepares for every &s;e|rious action, &s;o perturbation hath a quite contra|ry effect, and &s;o di&s;tracts the minde that it proves the greate&s;t prejudice imaginable, becau&s;e we often lo&s;e our rea&s;on in that croud which is the only expedient to prevail with us again&s;t any thing unnece&s;&s;ary or vexatious: This is a Max|im, that nothing &s;erious can be done in ha&s;te; Friend&s;hip is a &s;erious thing, and mu&s;t be well weighed both in its &s;ub&s;tance and circum&s;tances; The&s;e things are very material in order to a well-grounded friend&s;hip, that there be excellency in the minde, &s;weetne&s;s and affability in the di&s;po&s;i|tion, and reality in the affection; if we cannot be &s;atisfied in all the&s;e, we can expect to arrive at no better end then di&s;appointment; now to acquaint our &s;elves with all the&s;e, will require no &s;mall diligence and ob&s;ervation, which will employ our mo&s;t &s;erious thoughts, and take up a con&s;iderable time: if a man be a &s;ervant to the meane&s;t thing, upon which he placeth an inordi|nate affection, as indeed he is, then this &s;hould awaken all our powers to contemplate this con|cern; le&s;t while we aim at plea&s;ure we carele&s;ly in&s;lave our &s;elves: It is not notion but experi|ence that fixeth content, as nothing can de&s;troy our happine&s;s but the experience of evil, &s;o no|thing can e&s;tabli&s;h our &s;atisfaction but the expe|rience of good: there is as much deceit in men as
<PB N="17" REF="12"> there is in &s;tones, men may in&s;inuate them&s;elves by &s;pecious pretences, yet gro&s;s deceivers; It is hard for a man that is blinded with pride or pa&s;&s;i|on, or any other delu&s;ion, to under&s;tand him&s;elf; he is not &s;eldom betrayed by him&s;elf, much le&s;s can he be under&s;tood by another: there are &s;hin|ing men as well as &s;hining &s;tones, otherwi&s;e that proverb had never been, <HI>All is not gold that gli&s;ters;</HI> we know many a &s;tone hath the Dia|mond cut and colour, yet but a counterfeit, and when we think we have a trea&s;ure, it proves but a trifle: many men that through ra&s;hne&s;s and in|con&s;ideration fix their affection before experi|ence had of the true value of the object, are plain|ly cheated, prodigally giving away their hearts without any a&s;&s;urance of &s;utable returns; and hence it comes to pa&s;s, that we &s;ee &s;ome frend|&s;hip broken and &s;hattered, and in a &s;hort time moulder and come to nothing; the Materials were deceitful; like a hou&s;e that is &s;lightly built, it appears &s;trong and fair to the eye, but &s;oon decays; the defect was in the foundation, which though lea&s;t &s;een is mo&s;t dangerous.</P>
<P>Thirdly, our too early fixing, as it in&s;nareth the affection, &s;o it condemns the judgment; ma|ny will think them&s;elves concerned here, e&s;peci|ally the mo&s;t vicious, that are curious in nothing but in praying into and &s;earching after the fail|ings of others; &s;uch inqui&s;itions being more na|tural &amp; gratifying extravagant humours, who are mo&s;t ready to cen&s;ure what they lea&s;t under&s;tand, and make cau&s;le&s;s exceptions, which if rightly argued, they cannot an&s;wer one of a thou&s;and. Frend&s;hip may be envied, it cannot be condem|ned,
<PB N="18" REF="13" MS="y"> while it remains pure and entire, yet upon the lea&s;t failer it is liable to the greate&s;t reproach and &s;corn: When <HI>Hu&s;hai Davids</HI> friend came to <HI>Ab&s;alom</HI> he was glad to &s;ee him, yet how ready doth he upbraid him, &s;aying, <HI>Is this thy kindne&s;s to thy friend? Ab&s;alom</HI> was one of the wor&s;t of men, and the greate&s;t traitor, but he hated trea|chery notwith&s;tanding: few men &s;o barbarous as to love deceit, hence that Proverb came, that <HI>men love the Trea&s;on but hate the Traitor.</HI></P>
<P>The greate&s;t ground of condemnation is drawn from this, e&s;pecially our incon&s;ideratene&s;s in the fir&s;t choice and election, where we ought to have been mo&s;t curious and circum&s;pect, and this is aggravated by two ungrateful circum&s;tances: Fir&s;t, this &s;eems to be a fundamental errour, and therefore mo&s;t dangerous, and then it's obvious to vulgar in&s;pection and ob&s;ervation; and this is a grating aggravation, and comes attended with exclamations, and often enforces a man to di&s;|&s;emble a kindene&s;s to a per&s;on he could never do upon any other account then this, that he might defend his judgement from cen&s;ure, and the rela|tion of frend&s;hip from &s;corn and contempt; no|thing more contrary to an ingenious man then to own a kindene&s;s for him that once deceived him, e&s;pecially in &s;o material a concern as that of frend&s;hip, where he expected the contrary; yet prudence will not &s;uffer him to deny him pub|lickly: it's in this ca&s;e as with him that hath bought a Jewell, which he thought mo&s;t precious, but was cheated, that man will be a&s;hamed to own the deceit, becau&s;e thereby his ignorance is
<PB N="19" REF="13" MS="y"> betrayed; and next to being deceived he hates to be upbraided; reputation is expo&s;ed to &s;candal in this ca&s;e without remedy, which is equally dear to him as his life; what can he alledge, &s;hould he &s;ay, I thought my friend was worthy, amiable and &s;incerely affectionate, but I was mi&s;taken, what a contemptible plea is this? as much as if he &s;hould &s;ay, I was a novice and knew not how to make a right choice, or I was carele&s;s and would not take the pains; if igno|rant, how can he be a compleat Judge? by what rule can he a&s;&s;igne errours on another when for ought he knows the fault is his own: nothing will &s;ooner mi&s;leade then ignorance, if negligent worthy to &s;uffer: To prevent this, be well ac|quainted with the per&s;on before you make this contract, prevention is better then cure, the more perfect knowledge a man hath of his friend, the greater is his love to his per&s;on, if he be wor|thy; then acquaint your &s;elf with the law of frend&s;hip, love hath law as well as duty, and indi&s;pen&s;able obligations, which if thrown off make unhappy breaches: It is nece&s;&s;ary that there &s;hould be a principle of rea&s;on and choice in that per&s;on that is governed by this law; fir&s;t, to con&s;ider the rea&s;on that enjoyns, Secondly, to de&s;cern the import of the concern; Third|ly, how to determine it &s;elf out of judgement and choice to accept it as worthy in it &s;elf, and advantagious to the receiver: no external force can compel the will to choo&s;e any thing but un|der a notion of comparative goodne&s;s, as the in|feriour creatures are moved by the &s;ecret force of
<PB N="20" REF="14"> natural inclination, &s;o rational creatures are wrought upon and in&s;en&s;ibly drawn by moral en|gagements, as the fore&s;ight of rewards or threat|nings annexed invites them: Frend&s;hip cannot be without commands; if that be true, that the di&s;pen&s;ing of benefits acquire to the giver a right to command, and lays on the receiver an obliga|tion to obey, and the&s;e rights and obligations are mea&s;ured by the nature of the benefit as their ju&s;t rule: This is a <HI>Maxim,</HI> that every rational man readily a&s;&s;ents to, no commands &s;o plea&s;ing as tho&s;e of love: no duty &s;o ea&s;y; becau&s;e as the com|mands are ea&s;ie without re&s;traint, &s;o they are e|qual without violence and oppre&s;&s;ion, which &s;weetly obliges to Obedience.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, That we may be &s;ecured in &s;o weighty a matter, and build the material concern upon firm <HI>ba&s;es,</HI> know this, that not only rea&s;on but religion is nece&s;&s;ary as the mo&s;t tran&s;cendant and pregnant argument to engage the will and affe|ctions, tho&s;e that are learned in the work of righ|teou&s;ne&s;s are the mo&s;t excellently qualified for this concern: I admit a Frend&s;hip may be made between per&s;ons meerly moral; where there may be equality there may be amity, but it cannot be &s;o &s;ure and &s;afe as the Chri&s;tian Frend&s;hip, one being founded in heaven the other on earth; &s;o that there is as much difference between them as between heaven and earth, and as their originals are unequal, &s;o their objects and operations are unequal; rea&s;on cannot bear equal pace with religion, though it may ari&s;e high in re&s;pect of &s;ence, yet it is very low compared with faith; I
<PB N="21" REF="14" MS="y"> grant, that religion connot make Frend&s;hip com|pleat except rational accompli&s;hments and natu|ral requi&s;ites concur; as rea&s;on cannot convey grace, &s;o religion cannot convey rea&s;on: many Idiots without que&s;tion are pious, yet not in any ca&s;e capable of Frend&s;hip, becau&s;e there mu&s;t be rea&s;on as well as religion to regulate things: that religion is not &s;ufficient of it &s;elf to make Frend&s;hip, the ca&s;e of <HI>Barnabas</HI> and <HI>Paul</HI> makes undeniable, who through di&s;pute and difference did that which is again&s;t the nature of Frend&s;hip, they parted and probably never met again; we cannot think they were enemies, but certainly they were le&s;s friends; this mu&s;t be granted, where the re&s;traint in Frend&s;hip begins, there begins the imperfection of it; and without any que&s;tion the moral Frend&s;hip was broken, only the Chri&s;tian Frend&s;hip remained intire, we mu&s;t needs run a mighty hazard in making alliances with per&s;ons impious: Fir&s;t, the devil will de|&s;igne a breach, either by planting in us &s;ome di|viding principles, and afterward he will be as in|du&s;trious to draw out the&s;e principles into divi|ding practi&s;es: &s;ometimes God him&s;elf will de|&s;igne a breach, if God intend either party for him&s;elf, enmity will &s;oon grow between them, there being a certain antipathy between the &s;eed of the woman and the &s;eed of the &s;erpent: do not we &s;ee God cur&s;e the greate&s;t comforts of the carnal men, and bla&s;t their faire&s;t hopes, and nip their promi&s;ing blo&s;&s;oms? but if there be truth in the inward parts, and piety bears the &s;way, the Frend&s;hip will be e&s;tabli&s;hed: and becau&s;e the
<PB N="22" REF="15"> be&s;t Frend&s;hips may &s;ometimes want plea&s;ure, but never trouble, we had need be careful that we have an intere&s;t in him that can turn our wa|ters of affliction into the wine of con&s;olation.</P>
<P>I come now to the Fourth thing, namely, the equality that mu&s;t be in the per&s;ons of friends previous to this concern: and here we &s;hall fir&s;t examine the perfections of the minde, and then tho&s;e inferiour though nece&s;&s;ary requi&s;ites to compleat this equality: the per&s;ons mu&s;t have in them that which will do the&s;e things, &s;atisfie rea&s;on in a competent mea&s;ure, ravi&s;h and at|tract the affection, and pre&s;erve harmony and a|greement in all the tran&s;actions that relates to this concern: tho&s;e that are untainted with prejudice, and by being &s;o have their judgments clear and unbia&s;&s;ed, con&s;ider &s;eriou&s;ly the happine&s;s of this concern: Frend&s;hip is not guided by humour and fancy which hath much more &s;way among the vulgar then judgment and rea&s;on, and that makes them &s;o uncertain, they can &s;huffle pa&s;&s;ions, and hate next hour, what ju&s;t now they adored; but it is a grave and deliberate act of the under&s;tand|ing and will, whereby we come to a right e&s;ti|mate of things; the rational faculties, which are the under&s;tanding and will, if rightly guided, are not to be &s;lightly &s;atisfied; outward blan|di&s;hments will not do it, it mu&s;t be &s;omething that is really good, as that which is &s;o fubtilly di&s;|gui&s;ed under an appearance of good, that it can|not be di&s;covered: things being thus prefented to the will, it clo&s;eth with them by a free and uncon&s;trained choice, and the affections are in|clined
<PB N="23" REF="15"> in&s;en&s;ibly, vertue being the only ingrati|ating quality: for the better directing our inqui|&s;ition, it will be requi&s;ite to enquire what tho&s;e qualities are that are univer&s;ally and indi&s;pen&s;ibly nece&s;&s;ary, in order to the an&s;wering tho&s;e great ends before-mentioned: I conceive the&s;e three things will fully do it. <HI>Eir&s;t,</HI> worth and excel|lency in the minde, that will &s;atisfie rea&s;on as to the choice of the object, that it is not ba&s;e and abject but valuable: <HI>Secondly,</HI> courteous and affable conditions and inclinations, this will en|gage the affection: <HI>Thirdly,</HI> &s;uch an equality as will an&s;wer in every thing requi&s;ite in this mate|rial concern, and this will both create and pre|&s;erve harmony and agreement in all tran&s;acti|ons, and is the beauty and comeline&s;&s;e of Frend|&s;hip; when there is an Uniformity ob&s;erved in things, how &s;plendidly do they appear? and the more excellent the things are in them&s;elves, the more lovely they appear in uniformity: Frend&s;hip is not only to rai&s;e and inflame the heart with the love of the object in order to a &s;en&s;ual &s;atisfaction, though that be nece&s;&s;ary, becau&s;e from thence the felicity of the animal life proceeds, but rather to improve the &s;uperiour faculties in order to a rational &s;atisfaction, from whence the plea&s;ure of the minde proceeds; now our judgement and rea&s;on is abundantly &s;atisfied, when we finde in the object of our affections the habits and acts of rea&s;on; for as the princi|ples of rea&s;on inhances the value of the per&s;on, &s;o the practi&s;es benefits others, not only as an exam|ple, though that be much, but as an improvement
<PB N="24" REF="16"> of our knowledge and experience.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, we will con&s;ider rea&s;on in its &s;uperlative degree, as a King upon his throne, when rea&s;on keeps the throne, the will is right, and its im|pre&s;&s;ions ju&s;t and equal, &s;o that the inferiour fa|culties are ea&s;ily drawn to a &s;ubordination to its dictates and admonitions, and the affections are exerci&s;ed with proportion to the quality of their objects, and rea&s;on is their inviolable rule, and love the &s;upreme affection that gives being to all the re&s;t, to hatred it &s;elf; for &s;o much we hate a|ny thing as it &s;tands between and impedes our enjoyment of what we love; the rational facul|ties hath objects that highly excels tho&s;e of the &s;en&s;itive, their capacities are more &s;patious, and their union with the object more clo&s;e and inti|mate, their perception more clear, and thereby become the greate&s;t in&s;truments of plea&s;ure to the intelligent nature: the highe&s;t faculties are the under&s;tanding and will, to which the de&s;ire of knowledge is mo&s;t natural, and produceth the noble&s;t and &s;weete&s;t plea&s;ure; and this according to the perfection and enjoyment of the object, proportionable to the degrees of excellency there is in any object, &s;o much rational &s;atisfaction accrues to the minde by the knowledge of it: Natural things greatly affect an intelligent man in his enquiring into their nature, I mean the works of God and his providential di&s;tributions, yet the excellencies they finde there are but dark and faint re&s;emblances of the infinite &amp; unchang|able perfection, the de&s;ire of knowledge both natural and moral is marvellous quick and ear|ne&s;t
<PB N="25" REF="16"> and in appearance, mo&s;t worthy the rational nature, as being exceeding plea&s;ant and delicious to the &s;oul: the retirements of nature are not without tho&s;e excellencies which invite the &s;earch of intelligent men, but the mi&s;tery of mo|rallity hath much more perfection in the nature of it, to animate and quicken our enquiries, and that becau&s;e knowledge is attained here with le&s;s labour, more certainty, and with greater delight and plea&s;ure; and the rea&s;on is, we get &s;ome &s;teps nearer the original of all perfection; the Impre&s;&s;ions of God are ingraven upon all his works, but &s;o darkly, that many naturally wi&s;e men could hardly finde light enough in their na|tural lamps to di&s;cover the true nature and cha|racters of him: now morallity a&s;cends much nea|rer, it is a pro&s;pect that makes clearer di&s;cove|ries, and hereby we a&s;cend &s;o near perfection, that we may di&s;cover much of the nature and ex|cellency of the unchangeable and glorious being, yet this is but a glimmering light, and a low per|fection comparatively, and will never reach hap|pine&s;s; there is a &s;trong inclination in men to be happy, this de&s;ire is born and bred up with him, and it is the fir&s;t and univer&s;al principle from whence all moral con&s;equences are derived: this is the rule of our de&s;ire, and the end of our acti|ons: as in natural things the principle of their production operate according to their quality, &s;o in moral things the end is as powerful to form the &s;oul for its operations in order to it, there|fore as all de&s;ire to be happy, &s;o they apply them&s;elves to tho&s;e means that hath a tendency to
<PB N="26" REF="17" MS="y"> it: men frame happine&s;s according to their tem|pers, and the apprehen&s;ions of it are proportio|nable to the condition of the per&s;ons: for happi|ne&s;s is the ple&s;ure that derives from the harmony and agreement that there is between the object and the appetite, that we may come to a more perfect knowledge of the &s;upream being, and &s;o con&s;equently be more happy then any man, though never &s;o richly accompli&s;hed can be any other way: we mu&s;t clo&s;e with religion to this capacity the beams of divine light are extended; it is not my de&s;igne &s;o to magnifie humane rea&s;on as to neglect that knowledge that is divine, nor is it according to our method wholly to re&s;t there; the great import of Frend&s;hip as was pro|mi&s;ed was to &s;tudy the happine&s;s one of another in all things both divine and humane; it is true, there is a &s;ecret acknowledgment in every mans brea&s;t of a &s;uperiour power to whom he mu&s;t give an account, this he hath by the light of na|ture, yet the clearne&s;s of the under&s;tanding i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> lo&s;t notwith&s;tanding; and that light that remains is eclip&s;ed; tho&s;e that are guided by this ligh<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> led by &s;en&s;e, fancy, and pa&s;&s;ion, they have no<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> motives that &s;hould rai&s;e them to higher things there is yet a clearer di&s;covery to be made o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> God, and that is the office of faith, which lift men up above the region of Rea&s;on, and &s;o en+larges and &s;ublimates the minde that it can ge<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> very near the infinite perfection; as rea&s;on i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> greatly above &s;en&s;e, &s;o faith is infinitely abov<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> rea&s;on: if we con&s;ider its original acts and ends faith is not the fruit of nature, no &s;uch flowe<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">
<PB N="27" REF="17"> grows in natures garden: it is the immediate gift of God: none of the philo&s;ophers could attain this in all their enquiries, and the rea&s;on was, they never under&s;tood the knowledge of God in Chri&s;t, they were not brought to &s;ee, that there were higher degrees of excellency in the objects of faith then in tho&s;e of rea&s;on, nor could they di&s;cern the infallibility of its rule, by which all actions are mea&s;ured, if proportionable to the degree of excellency that there is in the object: our happine&s;s is more or le&s;s compleat: a Chri|&s;tians happine&s;s mu&s;t need be &s;uperlative that hath God for his object who is beyond all de|grees, and &s;uperlative: the &s;atisfaction of rea&s;on and that of faith are not the &s;ame thing, there is as much difference as between heaven and earth, the different ways they take exactly convinces, that there ends are not only different, but con|trary; the rule or law that Chri&s;tians are directed by is infallible, and the rule by which all their actions are mea&s;ured, is the perfect law of God, not the moral law written in every mans heart before the fall, the dark impre&s;&s;ion whereof re|mains to this day, but I mean the law of faith which is not &s;ubject to any di&s;pute or doubt; we need not go &s;o far about as heathens which knew God no otherwi&s;e but by the dark impre&s;&s;ions they found of him in natural things, but we come to a perfect knowledge of him, by the Go&s;pel and &s;ee him face to face: Chri&s;tians as they have clearer manife&s;tations, &s;o they have more no|ble and excellent means by which they attain tho&s;e &s;plendid di&s;coveries, &amp; this mo&s;t clearly de|mon&s;trates
<PB N="28" REF="18"> the glory &amp; magnificency of their end: men that look at a temporal felicity they level at low ends that which engages a Chri&s;tian in the pur&s;uit of happine&s;s, is no motive to them, and that is beauty and reward; nothing that is future can be any attractive to a carnal and &s;en&s;ual man, nor can beauty invite him: The vitiou&s;ne&s;s of his eye hinders him from di&s;cerning the beauty: the &s;hortne&s;s of his &s;ight is &s;uch that he cannot reach things that are future: the mo&s;t rational Philo&s;ophers that were mo&s;t diligent to improve in knowledge, received with delight truths of lower de&s;cent and of infinitely le&s;s importance but rejected divine revelation: morality &s;eems to come very near felicity; their profe&s;&s;ed de&s;igne was happine&s;s, yet the&s;e becau&s;e they could not admit a higher principle then natural rea&s;on, ut|terly di&s;claimed Go&s;pel-light, and its more clear revelations; but God who hath commanded light to &s;hine out of darkne&s;s, hath &s;hined into the heart of a Chri&s;tian and hath given the know|ledge of God in the face of Chri&s;t; this is the &s;un that dazeled the eyes of Philo&s;ophers, but inligh|tens Chri&s;tians more and more until the perfect day: men of the mo&s;t exqui&s;ite natural parts and perfections, though there were no future &s;tate, bould not be happy while they retain tho&s;e natu|ral in&s;ufficiences that are incident to the be&s;t of men that walk by a fallible rule; how frequent|ly are they in&s;nared, allurements may be &s;o &s;ub|tilly and artificially contrived and made, e&s;peci|ally when the bait is reward and plea&s;ure, that the rational and the &s;en&s;itive appetite are at once
<PB N="29" REF="18"> betrayed; the two principles of action are the under&s;tanding and will, there is no particular good but may have the appearance of &s;ome evil, or &s;omething that is ungrateful annexed to it, for which rea&s;on the will may reject it; &s;o every particular evil may be &s;o di&s;gui&s;ed by the fal&s;e appearance of goodne&s;s annexed to it, that the will may receive it: &s;pacious objects convey them&s;elves through the unwary and unguarded fences to the fancy, and from that to the under|&s;tanding, which by neglect not con&s;idering the danger, or fondly believing the goodne&s;s of the end, will overballance the evil of the means, commends it to the will, and that embraces it, and the &s;en&s;es that &s;hould be &s;entinels to give intelli|gence faithfully &amp; di&s;cover dangers vigilantly, &amp; make true reports of things to the minde re&s;pect|fully as &s;ubordinate to the rational faculties, to hinder all di&s;turbances or di&s;quietne&s;s that might a&s;&s;ault the minde, they not &s;eldome act contrary, carelefly taking di&s;gui&s;ed enemies for friends, othertimes by a fal&s;e alarm affright the lower ap|petite, and cau&s;e &s;uch confu&s;ion that the com|mand of rea&s;on cannot be ob&s;erved; and this is done either by bringing in &s;ome amazing trouble or in&s;inuating &s;ome inviting plea&s;ure or any o|ther di&s;tractions of the minde: thus the &s;en&s;es wound and captivate the minde, &s;o that there is no tru&s;ting to rea&s;on, &s;ence, or any thing but &s;aith, which can neither deceive nor be deceived; this pro&s;pective gives a true &s;ight of things, whe|ther we con&s;ider God the &s;upreme object of our happine&s;s or the enjoyment of him which is &s;ub|ordinate:
<PB N="30" REF="19"> it's true we cannot come to a perfect knowledge of God in this imperfect &s;tate, bu<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> we may have our hearts inlarged here to receiv<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> that happine&s;s that is re&s;erved for a more perfect &s;tate, and may have happine&s;s in the &s;eed and principles of it; nothing &s;hall alter our conditio<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> there but degrees, and we &s;hall have a portio<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> an&s;werable to the &s;paciou&s;ne&s;s of the capacity &s;o then we are not to judge of our &s;elves as t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> happine&s;s or mi&s;ery by wi&s;dome and humane rea+&s;on, but by faith that cannot be mi&s;-guided o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> controuled: this mea&s;ure is not humane rea&s;o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> that may erre, but it is grace, not in our hand but in the hand of omnipotency, where erring an<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> warping is impo&s;&s;ible; as &s;aith hath its illumina+tion from him who&s;e under&s;tanding is infinite, &s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> it hath its &s;trength from him that is Almighty By this light the under&s;tanding is rectifyed, th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> will is inclined, &s;o that they cannot be inveigle<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> by inferiour objects, and it &s;ub&s;titutes &s;uch &s;o+briety in the lower appetite, which keeps ou<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> all tho&s;e intru&s;ions that generally &s;ubvert it But I leave this point, and proceed, and &s;hew how knowledge and mental perfection may rea<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> the benefit of others.</P>
<P>Secondly, Men do not love and value per&s;o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> only for their intrin&s;ick worth though that is va+luable and inviting, but for the diffu&s;ive quali<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> that is &s;o natural to true excellency, that it ca<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> not be divided, no more then the beams of t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> &s;un can be &s;eparated from the body: men thi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> them&s;elves happy in nothing but what comes a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">+tended with reward as well as plea&s;ure, a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">
<PB N="31" REF="19" MS="y"> therefore prize<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> frend&s;hip as having in it &s;elf mo&s;t accomodation and proportion thereunto: Love is the mo&s;t free and generous Pa&s;&s;ion &s;end|ing forth continually that which is both profitable and greatly delightful, and this is mo&s;t obli|ging: men are valued as all things el&s;e are, for their u&s;e&s;ulne&s;s; we have a good in&s;tance for this in melancholy per&s;ons that have as large capaci|ties as others, and are as indu&s;trous to acquire noble endowments as any, and attain as great perfection, yet being under the tyranny of that black pa&s;&s;ion, are not capable of Demon&s;tration, and &s;o they draw them&s;elves under a cloud while they live, by ob&s;curing their perfections; and when they die, their excellencies with them|&s;elves are buried in everla&s;ting oblivion; they live no u&s;e, and die without glory; whereas others who like the &s;un have &s;cattered their light, though &s;hort of their excellencies and acquirements, have lived u&s;e&s;ully and dyed honorably. It is not no|tion but example that imbalms our du&s;t, and perpetuates renown; men of clear and inturrup|ted rea&s;on cannot content them&s;elves with them|&s;elves, I mean no man can be &s;atisfied from him|&s;elf, that is Gods prerogative, and therefore are frequently taking in &s;upplys from without; and this they could not do with conveniency, content, and &s;atisfaction, had they not the advan|tage of communication, by which they tran&s;plant their precious flowers, as al&s;o convey from their divine &s;prings tho&s;e &s;treams that would overflow all banks, if not carefully turned into convenient channels; neither would their felicity they in|tend
<PB N="32" REF="20"> be compleat, could they confine their noti|ons and experiences within the narrow territories of their own minds: Now that they may di&s;|charge them&s;elves of the burthens of their weigh|ty conceptions, which they may do while they retain the worth of them, and finde out a way for their capatious &s;ouls to empty them&s;elves: They court all opportunities, among which Frend&s;hip pre&s;ents its &s;elf as mo&s;t &s;uitable and proper, becau&s;e receptive of all tho&s;e generous overtures which are propounded, and &s;o the will and affection are immediatly engaged, freely without any force or violence, to clo&s;e with Frend&s;hip, as the mo&s;t convenient &s;cene upon which they may act tho&s;e &s;erious contrivances that terminate in vertue and honour: It is in this &s;tate and relation men chearfully pur&s;ue golden de&s;ignes, and make u&s;e of tho&s;e excellent expe|riments they have been long gathering, but by &s;ome har&s;h accident and unhappy incapacity have been hid and ob&s;cured: Now Frend&s;hip mainly intending the improvement of rea&s;on and advan|tage, every way both to the giver, and receiver immediatly puts upon that employment, with|out which the mo&s;t curious &s;earches &s;eems but idle things, and that is communication, where|by men both improve them&s;elves and others; It is true, habitual excellency beautifies the minde, but it mu&s;t be extended beyond that, el&s;e the reputation, which is very con&s;iderable among vertuous men will lo&s;e much honour; the more general the inffuence, the greater the glory, like the &s;un who&s;e glory doth not only con&s;i&s;t in the
<PB N="33" REF="20"> body, though that be all light, and the &s;ountain of light, but al&s;o in the &s;preading beams; they being of the mo&s;t general advantage: But to bring this argument yet nearer our purpo&s;e, ob|&s;erve, that wi&s;e men in their fir&s;t attempts, in order to the demon&s;trating of their parts, are not ha&s;ty, ra&s;h and precipitate; they will friendly di&s;cour&s;e their notions before they will &s;catter them publickly; this is readily a&s;&s;ented to, that the mo&s;t accompli&s;hed men are not &s;ecured from mi&s;takes, which will ofttimes attend unavoida|bly the mo&s;t wary undertaker: men cannot &s;o exactly &s;hape their be&s;t thoughts, as that they &s;hould appear comely to all, nor can he promi&s;e him&s;elf an exemption at all times from mi&s;ap|prehen&s;ion, pa&s;&s;ion or &s;ome other accident which may intervene between the intention and the action, the&s;e are incident to every man, and can be no more divided from the pure&s;t con&s;titutions and innocent lives then light from the &s;un: Again, con&s;iderate men are not &s;o taken with their early conceptions as to believe them with|out exceptions or improvement, and none can &s;o freely, innocently and without noi&s;e do it, as a faithful and judicious friend, who cannot be &s;u&s;pected of envy or partiality on the other &s;ide: who more fit to pay tho&s;e ju&s;t acknowledge|ments then he who will as chearfully commend any worthy quality as he would tenderly, pru|dently and carefully detect the contrary; that this act of Frend&s;hip is a &s;ingular advantage, will further appear upon this enquiry which follows: Examine great Schools and publike communities
<PB N="34" REF="21"> and Academies, and you will finde they are not only intended for the &s;tudy of Learning in their &s;everal apartments, but al&s;o for the benefit of Communion in a &s;ociable conver&s;ation, whereby learning is improved and extended in order to the publick benefit of the whole &s;ociety: We are not without multitude of examples of this kinde, it is by di&s;cour&s;e truth is di&s;puted, errour is ex|punged; the true mea&s;ure of the capacity and incapacities of men lies originally in that rule that the art or &s;cience he is about to acquire pre&s;cribes, but the u&s;e is more exten&s;ive, and &s;o the mea&s;ure is in every mans hand that hath skill to u&s;e it; and hereby a man comes to make a right e&s;timate of all things, by applying the rule to them, which is done by di&s;cour&s;ing with our &s;elves or others: words are the &s;haping of the thoughts, and rally them into order and form: thoughts are be&s;t di&s;cerned in their dre&s;s whether they are trivial or weighty; naked thoughts &s;ometimes affright us, we dare not look on them, till by words they are adorned, and &s;o made amiable; othertimes they &s;eem &s;o aiery that we cannot hold them, they &s;lip from us; but when we have &s;haped them we have greater command of them, and can hold them till we have exami|ned them, and at la&s;t we have liberty to keep them or reject them, according to their de&s;ert and merit: a mans fir&s;t conceptions may be o|vervalued or undervalued by accidents, as when melancholy or pride interpo&s;eth: Melancholy will not &s;tay &s;o long upon thoughts, being of a roving temper, or till they may be &s;canned, and
<PB N="35" REF="21" MS="y"> pride will examine them overly and &s;lightly, becau&s;e it thinks it cannot erre: We deal up|rightly and judiciou&s;ly when we examine things &s;o as that we come to a right under&s;tanding of the nature of them, and can give every thing its true value without le&s;&s;ening their lu&s;tre, which con&s;i&s;ts in their nature, uniformity and compo|&s;ition: It was the advice of a Grandee, eminent for Learning, and of an excellent judgment, that men &s;hould di&s;cour&s;e their thoughts and when opportunities were not to be had of di&s;|cour&s;ing them otherwi&s;e, rather then wholly omit this nece&s;&s;ary concern, they &s;hould direct their di&s;cour&s;e to a &s;tatue; but he that hath a faithful friend need not put him&s;elf upon this conclu&s;ion: Familiar conver&s;e is always plea&s;ant and often very profitable and &s;ea&s;onable; <HI>Two wits are better then one,</HI> is a Proverb not to be &s;lighted: I may &s;ee an errour in my Friend he may not &s;ee in him&s;elf, without being over-cu|rious and this may be &s;o argued, that he may be convinced, and his reputation &s;ecured from reproach and &s;candal.</P>
<P>Secondly, there mu&s;t be that in the object we pitch upon for Frend&s;hip, that mu&s;t ravi&s;h the affections, and that &s;eems to be candour and affability in di&s;po&s;itions and conver&s;ation, this is as nece&s;&s;ary in order to content and the plea&s;ure of this concern, as rea&s;on is in order to the pro|fit of it: as rea&s;on is nece&s;&s;ary, &s;o love and an equal conver&s;ation is as nece&s;&s;ary, this was that which fir&s;t created and &s;till &s;upports it; nothing &s;o indearing as civility and courte&s;ie; and this
<PB N="36" REF="22" MS="y"> keeps up the reputation of Frend&s;hip in &s;pight of all that envy that malicious per&s;ons conceive a|gain&s;t it: no cloud can ecclip&s;e the radiancy of this concern, when it is clothed with civility and courte&s;ie, this is the con&s;training property of kindne&s;s, and in this &s;ence objects hath a con|&s;training force, though properly they have none, but derive their efficacy from the faculties to which they are agreeable: we may under&s;tand the excellency of this temper by comparing it with tho&s;e that are of moro&s;e and har&s;h &s;pirits, &s;uch hath cro&s;&s;ne&s;s &s;o natural to them, being born and bred up with them, that they cannot be o|therwi&s;e: what torment are &s;uch per&s;ons to them&s;elves? every the lea&s;t contradiction &s;o inflames and &s;o &s;trangely tran&s;ports them, and that to &s;uch amazing pa&s;&s;ions, that they are not only ungrateful to others but frightful to them|&s;elves; they arrive to &s;uch extravagancies that mi&s;chievous effects follow upon them: they are ju&s;tly termed mad, el&s;e they would not bring up|on them&s;elves a greater mi&s;chief that they may do a le&s;s; the&s;e per&s;ons are not fit for any &s;erious undertaking; but now a calm and affable tem|per reduces pa&s;&s;ions, and &s;o fortifies them&s;elves again&s;t them, that they neither di&s;quiet their own minds, nor others patience: the&s;e can pa&s;s by the greate&s;t injuries in&s;en&s;ibly; how prudent|ly do they interpret all things in the be&s;t &s;ence that are meant in the wor&s;t they do &s;ee, as to pity, but are blinde as to prejudice: the&s;e do not practi&s;e curio&s;ity and a near in&s;pection into the faults of others, and yet will &s;everely enough de|tect
<PB N="37" REF="22"> vice, without grating &amp; unbraiding how ami|able is &s;uch a di&s;po&s;ition, and mo&s;t incomparably fit for this great concern? this temper hath many excellent properties; I &s;hall hint at &s;ome: It is free, plea&s;ant and compla&s;ant; Love is noble, and admits the beloved into the heart, and gives him a peculiar intere&s;t there, and in all that he hath be&s;ides, intere&s;t is &s;o great a part of Frend|&s;hip, that we conclude, no Intere&s;t no Frend|&s;hip: It is the true mea&s;ure of Love; as Intere&s;t is more or le&s;s per&s;ect, &s;o is the affection more or le&s;s compleat; proportionable to the intere&s;t, &s;uch is the Frend&s;hip: All tho&s;e accompli&s;h|ments we have been di&s;cour&s;ing of, are in&s;ignifi|cant to a per&s;on without intere&s;t, like the Gold in the <HI>Indies;</HI> only valuable in them&s;elves, but of little value to others which are at a di&s;tance: It is intere&s;t that inhanceth the worth of any thing, propriety is very indearing and obliging; it puts a beauty upon our enjoyments; how com|mon is it for men to &s;light that in the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of another they admire, when the property is al|tered and they can call it their own.</P>
<P>Again, Frend&s;hip is ple&s;ant without tho&s;e per|plexities that attend other relations; as the tem|per of friends are more equal, &s;o their commerce and fellow&s;hip is more plea&s;ing; equality &s;weet|ne&s;s &s;ociety: Frend&s;hip is compounded of love and &s;ociety: how plea&s;ant are tho&s;e harmle&s;s diver&s;ions that con&s;tantly attend tho&s;e &s;ociable companions? and that which makes it the more &s;weet, is the utility and nece&s;&s;iity of it for the re|pair of the minde, that may and will be tired in
<PB N="38" REF="23"> the mo&s;t beneficial and excellent employments: the mo&s;t diligent per&s;on cannot be always upon the wing, the lower appetite mu&s;t have content as well as the &s;uperiour; for as the di&s;turbances in the fen&s;es much prejudice the operations of the minde, &s;o that it cannot act either profitably or plea&s;antly for that particular &s;ea&s;on; &s;o when the minde is too intent, the &s;ences are prejudiced, and &s;o much &s;ometimes, that they cannot enjoy tho&s;e vacancies that prudence and conveniency a&s;&s;igns them for the repairs of the body and low|er appetite, which may be &s;o: weary in atten|ding upon the rational appetite, that plea&s;ure may &s;eem a burthen becau&s;e un&s;ea&s;onable, and they may prefer a &s;leepy &s;tupdity before the mo&s;t grateful recreation; and the rea&s;on &s;eems to be this becau&s;e &s;ence cannot bear equal pace with rea&s;on, the body with the minde; wi&s;e men in their mo&s;t eager pur&s;uit of knowledge had evermore a due re&s;pect to the body, which if impaired the minde could not make its returns either &s;o plea&s;ant or beneficial as before: now it is the great de&s;igne of friends &s;o to regulate their affairs that a general content &s;hall be given both to &s;ence and rea&s;on&punc; an&s;werable to their re&s;pe|ctive capacity: Society as it is nece&s;&s;ary upon a moral account, &s;o it is mo&s;t natural; God him|&s;elf preached this doctrine in paradice, <HI>it is not good for man to be alone; Adam</HI> was no other way unhappy, Paradi&s;e with all its plea&s;ure could not make up this want, his &s;ociable nature was not to be contented without it: <HI>Adam</HI> was as perfect in his primitive &s;tate as any creature
<PB N="39" REF="23" MS="y"> could po&s;&s;ibly be; look into his under&s;tanding and there you will finde perfect light; into his will, and their exact rectitude; his affections all pure, without any dro&s;s, his body full of beauty and comeline&s;s: add hereunto his con&s;tant communi|on with God who treated him with no other terms but love and kindene&s;s, yet after all this, the Lord as a further demon&s;tration of his favour to <HI>Adam,</HI> he a&s;&s;igns him a com|panion, the proportionablene&s;s of which is &s;ignified in that commendation he gives the wo|man, when he pre&s;ents her to <HI>Adam,</HI> &s;aying, <HI>&s;he was a help-meet for him:</HI> all this illu&s;trates the plea&s;ure of &s;ociety. If <HI>Adam</HI> in paradi&s;e wanted &s;ociety that was happy in every thing el&s;e, how plea&s;ant mu&s;t Frend&s;hip be to us that are happy in nothing el&s;e comparatively? what complacen|cy and delight mu&s;t needs &s;pring from a &s;tate &s;o peculiarly free and plea&s;ant, I might &s;peak much of the delight and &s;atisfaction to be found in this regard, but that I &s;hall re&s;erve to another place.</P>
<P>The Fourth and la&s;t thing promi&s;ed by way of preparation to this great concern is this, that there mu&s;t be &s;o much equality in the per&s;on &amp; capacity of Friends which will be commen&s;u|rate and adequate in every thing material, relat|ing to this rclation and &s;tate of Frend&s;hip: for the better directing our inqui&s;ition in this great ca&s;e, a method will be nece&s;&s;ary. I would explain my meaning here with all caution and circum&s;pecti|on, that I might not be mi&s;-under&s;tood, becau&s;e the intricacy of the whole Di&s;cour&s;e lies in this particular.</P>
<PB N="40" REF="24">
<P>Fir&s;t, I do not mean by this equality &s;uch an ab&s;olute equality as will admit of no di&s;parity that is almo&s;t impo&s;&s;ible, and certainly unnece&s;&s;a|ry: Men cannot meet in this concern as lines in the eenter, no man can perfectly under&s;tand the heights and depths of his own minde &s;o as to make a certain e&s;timate of them, and it mu&s;t needs be without the reach of any other; as the accidents of life in &s;ome inferiour things may make a difference as to the outward &s;tate, &s;o the perfections of the minde, though not contrary may be unequal, and that becau&s;e one man may and doth excell another in particular things; and this is &s;o far from cau&s;ing a di&s;gu&s;t, that it pro|mi&s;eth &s;ingular advantage; for as a worthy man is di&s;&s;atisfied though he hath trea&s;ured up great things while they remain ob&s;cure, &s;o he is high|ly contented to part them between him&s;elf and his friend, and no le&s;s is he delighted to &s;ee his own worth outvied by his friend: for what&s;oe|ver the one po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth the other cannot want: no matter where the propriety is when the u&s;e is in both: the trade that Friends drive is giving and receiving in order to a mutual &s;atisfaction: be|&s;ide were this &s;eeming di&s;parity wanting, friends would mi&s;s one of their great ends: no man is loved for him&s;elf: It were well if we could love God at that rate: there is a va&s;t expectation of profit and plea&s;ure among Friends, and much of their &s;atisfaction lies in this, exchanging value for value, and hereby they are both gainers, and this upon a double account. Fir&s;t they add each to others trea&s;ure by &s;ome additional excellency,
<PB N="41" REF="24"> and then to their content, becau&s;e its mutual: It is no cau&s;e of quarrel that one excels another in worthy qualities, the one never lo&s;eth by the others gain; and then there is much more delight in &s;ubmitting the rea&s;on and wills in the volunta|ry intercour&s;es and acts of Frend&s;hip, then can be any other way, and that becau&s;e there is more love expre&s;&s;ed in tho&s;e acts, and the more of love is in any thing, the more &s;weet, gratifying and contenting it is: But to come to particulars.</P>
<P>And here I &s;hall endeavour to &s;hew what are tho&s;e inequalities that are ab&s;olute, and can ne|ver be otherwi&s;e, and then what inequality that is that may be di&s;pen&s;ed with and taken up when prudence &s;peaks it nece&s;&s;ary: That I may not in &s;tead of explicating intricate this material con|cern, I &s;hall promi&s;e the&s;e Four things wherein this inequality is to be found, and is &s;o interwo|ven into the compo&s;ition and condition of the per&s;ons that no prudence can take up.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, The inequality between a Prince and a &s;lave, a wi&s;e man and a fool, per&s;ons of different per&s;wa&s;ions in matters of religion, and in the <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">a&s;t place, that inequality that is in &s;ome Rela|tions.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, A Prince cannot without too ba&s;e a con|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">i&s;cention and diminution of his honour take his <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ave into his bo&s;ome, this is &s;o great a di&s;parity, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">hat no prudence can ever take up; this is both <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">n unnatural and unrea&s;onable conde&s;cention.</P>
<P>Secondly, There can be no equality between <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> wi&s;e man and a fool; if a wi&s;e man cannot make <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">rend&s;hip with a per&s;on that is gro&s;ly ignorant,
<PB N="42" REF="25"> becau&s;e of the di&s;parity that there is between them in re&s;pect of their rea&s;on, as I &s;hall &s;hew anon, much le&s;s with him that is &s;o far from great rea&s;on, that he hath none at all: fools can never be &s;o equallized as to comport with men of com|petent rea&s;on, much le&s;s with wi&s;e men; their natures are made up of contradiction: there is that madne&s;s, wilfulne&s;s and folly in the one that cannot con&s;i&s;t with that gravity, wi&s;dom and humility of the other, as one can never be rai&s;ed to any congruity with the other, &s;o the other can never be &s;o depre&s;&s;ed and degenerated as to bea<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> any proportion with him: no &s;uch amity can &s;tand with &s;o great an inequality: I need not u&s;e any further argument for the confirmation of this a&s;&s;ertion; Give me leave to &s;peak a word to the &s;uppo&s;ition, which is, that men of high parts &amp; &s;ublimated minds cannot be &s;o equalized as to be made fit &s;ubjects for a Frend&s;hip with the ig|norant: Men eminent in vertue, as they cannot in honour a&s;&s;ociate them&s;elves with them that are vicious, &s;o they cannot in wi&s;dom make alliance with the ignorant; and this will be yet more clear, if we con&s;ider the di&s;tance they &s;tand one to the other; a man of rai&s;ed parts can never be &s;o degenerated as to comport him&s;elf with them that are much inferiour; difference in per&s;on as to the outward &s;tate is much, as appeared in the former in&s;tance between a Prince and a &s;lave, but here it's more, becau&s;e there is all manner of di&s;tance both as to the minde and outward &s;tate: what plea&s;ure can wi&s;e men take in &s;owing barren ground, or &s;cattering
<PB N="43" REF="25" MS="y"> their precious &s;eed in a Common, or at be&s;t to &s;ow among thorns, where the &s;eed will never &s;pring up to any &s;atisfaction: Every &s;ecular bu|&s;ine&s;s &s;hall be admitted to come in and choak it; that in which wi&s;e men are mo&s;t excellent, the other regards not; the more a man under&s;tands the more he makes nece&s;&s;ary to him&s;elf, which tho&s;e of vicious &s;pirits call madne&s;s, and abject and low &s;pirits call needle&s;s curio&s;ity; and in|&s;tead of putting that worth upon noble and gene|rous actions they de&s;erve, di&s;parage them by their &s;lights and reflections; and &s;o put an under|value upon the per&s;on, who the higher they act, the more prejudicial the lea&s;t a&s;per&s;ion ca&s;t upon them proves to be; as from the&s;e &s;o unrea|&s;onable a conde&s;cention cannot be de&s;ired, &s;o from the other &s;o great an elevation can|not be expected, that true worth, value and ex|cellency that &s;hould greaten their minds, and in|large their capacities: For &s;uch alliance is a rid|dle they can never under&s;tand, a jewel they would never be at the co&s;t to purcha&s;e becaufe they can never be brought to think it nece&s;&s;ary, no &s;uch enemy to learning as the ignorant, but here comes in an objection; Some will be ready to &s;ay, I exclude all per&s;ons from Frend&s;hip, but tho&s;e that are &s;tars of the fir&s;t magnitude, and &s;o con&s;equently mo&s;t men and all women are ex|empted: To this I an&s;wer, that I am not of that opinion, nor can I &s;ee any ground for it, I have laid down the rules of Frend&s;hip in the &s;tricte&s;t &s;ence, as all material points ought to be, not &s;uppo&s;ing all can reach them; they that comes
<PB N="44" REF="26"> neare&s;t do be&s;t: this mu&s;t be allowed, that dif|ference in vertues make a great difference in Frend&s;hips, as &s;ome men are more excellently qualified then others, &s;o their alliances are more e&s;teemable, and fellow&s;hips more eminent: men differ in their extractions, natures and moral ac|quirements exceeding much; and then education addes much weight to all the re&s;t, if it be refined by art: it's true, nothing is more excellent then a natural <HI>genius</HI> when it is rightly directed, it is the ground-work and foundation of all ingenui|ty; but this is not alike in all, nature is more bountiful to &s;ome than others; and therefore art is intended to make up the defects of nature, and &s;ometimes it is &s;o &s;ucce&s;sful in that behalf, that a man polli&s;hed by it comes to much perfection: we &s;ee boys that have been ob&s;erved to be weak|ly accomodated in re&s;pect of natural ability, yet through the help of art, which by much diligence they have acquired, they have proved wi&s;e and u&s;eful men, though they could never arrive to that perfection that men both naturally wi&s;e and learned have done; there is as much difference between them as comparative and &s;uperlative.</P>
<P>But to come to the Que&s;tion, I conceive high parts and titles to be no more of the E&s;&s;ence of Frend&s;hip then gay clothes to be of the e&s;&s;ence of a man: A man eminent in Titles and gloriou&s;|ly arayed, may appear more &s;plendidly then he that is clothed in rags, but there is as much of the nature of a man in the latter as in the former: men not &s;o highly rai&s;ed in their parts, per&s;ons and E&s;tates as the former may make a moral
<PB N="45" REF="26"> Frend&s;hip, they have the capacity of it, and why not the &s;ignifications of it: a competent rea&s;on will &s;erve among equalls: Men that look no higher then their particular calling and com|merce in the world, may have rea&s;on as to u&s;eful hearts as much united, their conver&s;ations as plea&s;ant, their actions as equal as tho&s;e that &s;tand in a higher &s;phere: as rea&s;on is not &s;o e|minent among the&s;e, &s;o they can be happy with|out it, becau&s;e they have not the &s;ame occa&s;ion <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">or it that others have, the&s;e can as dearly love and as faithfully comport them&s;elves, and may <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">rove as fa&s;t and unchangeable friends as any o|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">her: It is not above the reach of any that hath <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ny ingenuity: &s;ome have been apt enough to <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">y, that this is a Scheme of Di&s;cour&s;e, a kinde <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">f Romance; rather what ingenious men wi&s;h <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ight be, then really what is or can be: If rea|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">on may be heard in this ca&s;e, it would convince <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">s, that we cannot be happy without Frend&s;hip, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ough in the confluence of all enjoyments, e&s;|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ecially women that have as much rea&s;on to im|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">rove this argument as any other: but they <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">e excluded &s;ome &s;ay for want of mental accom|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">i&s;hment: the&s;e would have women appear as <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">ntemptible to them&s;elves as they have rend|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">d them in their invectives: how come women &s;o <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">ort of men in this regard? this que&s;tion is not <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 word"> ea&s;ily an&s;wered; compare the per&s;onal ex|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">llency of the &s;exes, particularly the under|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">nding and will, the&s;e &s;eem all one, therefore <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 word"> cannot be a natural defect in the one, or per|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">tion in the other that mu&s;t make this diffe|rence:
<PB N="46" REF="27" MS="y"> therefore it mu&s;t be learning and Edu+cation that mu&s;t adde weight to the ballance o<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> the mans &s;ide: who can deny that women hav<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> been eminent for learning, valour and other wor+thy qualities, and why they are not generally &s;o is not &s;o much the defect of nature as evil exam+ple, by which they are corrupted, &s;o that th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> will loo&s;eth its freedom, and is contracted to low and ba&s;e objects, or el&s;e this comes to pa&s;s from the &s;evere cu&s;tomes they are forced to &s;ubmit to by which that freedom and improvements the &s;hould have, is either &s;o re&s;trained or &s;o limited that let their intrin&s;ick worth be what it will, the never arrive at any eminency: but tho&s;e tha<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> have &s;tepped over tho&s;e limitations, and throw<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> away tho&s;e manacles, have lived u&s;efully an<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> died honorably: Many In&s;tances Hi&s;tory affor<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> to &s;trengthen the argument, but I forbear, thi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> being occa&s;ionably, not inten&s;ionally hinted at&punc; All women can intirely love, they can be faith+ful and &s;ociable, and why not fit for frend&s;hip&punc; except their husband make them &s;o: Nothin<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> more evident then the hgih di&s;plea&s;ure me<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> take at the Frend&s;hip of women, e&s;peciall<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> where their wives are concerned, may be the<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> have rea&s;on it: I do not cen&s;ure them, yet I ca<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">+not but conclude, that there can hardly be th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> moral Frend&s;hip among married women, who<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> affection, rea&s;on and freedom mu&s;t attend upo<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> and be commanded by their husbands, who n<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> &s;eldom make it their bu&s;ine&s;s to cro&s;s their wiv<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> though their ends be never &s;o innocent fair; a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> hand&s;ome: I do not &s;ay all men are of this u<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">+grateful temper.</P>
<PB N="47" REF="27" MS="y">
<P>Secondly, there is inequality that may be ta|ken up and di&s;pen&s;ed with, and that is when the di&s;tance lies in things not material; I in&s;tance in riches and commands: A man may not be &s;o rich as another, this is no inequality, but what pru|dence will finde arguments enough to take up or di&s;pence with; what is riches to rea&s;on, a no|ble title to a noble minde; money may elevate abject and &s;ordid &s;pirits, but a generous man would be &s;o far from valluing him&s;elf by it, that he would trample upon it, if it &s;tood in compe|tition with vertue and honour; noble minds a&s;&s;end the throne when men of vicious principles and practi&s;es are ca&s;t down with &s;hame and &s;corn; witne&s;&s;e <HI>Haman,</HI> what a &s;tain remains upon his glory we all know: blinde fortune &s;el|dome makes a ju&s;t e&s;timate of things, &s;he di&s;tri|butes her favours promi&s;cuou&s;ly, and men &s;crab|ble for them, and the &s;tronge&s;t and tho&s;e that lea&s;t de&s;erves them gets the greate&s;t &s;hare: they pride them&s;elves in their unmerited gains and Titles, yet they in their highe&s;t elivations are like fools upon a Theatre, attended with re|proach and contempt: men take but a low level at greatne&s;&s;e that vallue them&s;elves by &s;uch in|&s;ignificant Titles like a great letter in the Alpha|bet, they take up more room and look bigger but &s;ignifie no more then the lea&s;t letter there, like the crackling of thorns under a pot, they make a great noi&s;e, and bla&s;t, but after a little while this blaze will extingui&s;h; they are more <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">n noi&s;e then in notion, more in &s;hew then in &s;ub|&s;tance; but men that derive their Titles from me|rit
<PB N="48" REF="28" MS="y"> and de&s;ert are &s;o &s;plendid, that no envious cloud, though never &s;o dark can ecclip&s;e their lu&s;tre; it's true, men may &s;ooner get a noble Title then a noble minde, there are in&s;tances enough of this at hand in this pre&s;ent age, the mo&s;t unhappy times that vertuous men ever &s;aw, the golden clue hath led many a worthle&s;s man into the pallace of Princes, who with the &s;pider carry their poy&s;on thither, &s;erving only by their princi|ples to corrupt, &amp; by their practi&s;es to defile the Court: how often have we &s;een as little things as the change of a be&s;om comparitively, &s;weep down tho&s;e cobwebs; tho&s;e to whom fortune hath given an unexpected and unde&s;erved grandure; are of all others mo&s;t &s;ubject to chan|ges, the intere&s;t they fir&s;t had, pre&s;ently grows cold and faint, and langui&s;hing: as nothing can purcha&s;e the trea&s;ure of a noble minde, &s;o no|thing can depre&s;&s;e or extingui&s;h the glory of it: Times mu&s;t be beyond all parrellell barbarous wherein &s;uch men &s;hall be degraded, Philo&s;o|phers that were of rai&s;ed mindes would not part with, nor Exchange one &s;ingle vertue for all the gold in both the <HI>Indies,</HI> they vallued time better then to expend it upon &s;uch trifles: men pro|portion their care to their value, the&s;e are the per|&s;ons that are expert in all vertue, and con&s;e|quently mo&s;t fit for this generou&s;s &s;tate becau&s;e they are mo&s;t acquainted with &s;ublimity, and their intendment are beyond all Expceptions.</P>
<P>Secondly, Command and duty mo&s;t be Exa|mined, and there they &s;eem unequal whereever they are, yet it may &s;omtimes be otherwi&s;e: In|&s;tances
<PB N="49" REF="28"> there are many who&s;e conditions are far wide from &s;ervitude, yet they are &s;ervants in a proper &s;ence, and mu&s;t own an inequality be|tween them &amp; their ma&s;ters, but this di&s;parity in the &s;tricte&s;t &s;ence is but a &s;ubordination in &s;ome things, and for &s;ome &s;pace of time, or &s;ome par|ticular bu&s;ine&s;s when the time is expired, and the bu&s;ine&s;s fini&s;hed, the ma&s;ter and &s;ervant are both equal, the Inequallity did not con&s;i&s;t in the e&s;&s;ential but in the circum&s;tantial part, not in per|&s;on and condition, but in the art and &s;cience which when taught and learned, the Ma&s;ter and &s;ervant are both equal; &s;o that there remains no more di&s;tinction of Ma&s;ter and &s;ervant; but we will &s;uppo&s;e the inequality yet greater, and that there is ab&s;olute power in the Ma&s;ter to command without any re&s;triction and proportionable obli|gations on the &s;ervant to obey beyond di&s;pute; yet it doth not follow, that the&s;e commands and duties are always alike, and that they can never be di&s;pen&s;ed with; it is mo&s;t true, it is not in the power of the inferiour to le&s;&s;en his own obedi|ence and duty, or extenuate the &s;uperiour autho|rity, yet the &s;uperiour may abate and le&s;&s;en his own power, according to his will and plea&s;ure, and &s;o they come to be more equal, though the one cannot &s;hrink the other can &s;tretch; a &s;ervant cannot upon any ju&s;t pretence deny his obedience to his Ma&s;ter, yet his Ma&s;ter when it &s;eems con|venient either for profit or plea&s;ure, or any other way expedient, can abate or le&s;&s;en his own pro|perty in the &s;ervant, without the lea&s;t inju&s;tice, and di&s;charge him from any or all his obligations;
<PB N="50" REF="29"> and this &s;eems to be the way of princes, and the method that they u&s;e in rai&s;ing per&s;ons from a low condition to eminency; &s;ometimes it con&s;i&s;ts with the &s;agacity and prudence of a prince as well as his fancy, to advance men of low extra|ction but of noble &s;pirits to places of high tru&s;t and honour: &s;ome men by the va&s;tne&s;s of their natural parts and ability, are mo&s;t admirably ac|comodated for the mo&s;t honourable and noble &s;er|vices, and for emergences of &s;tate, may be more u&s;eful then tho&s;e much above them by extraction and titles: the&s;e cannot be admitted, though they are qualified for princely receptions, but by the favour of the prince extended toward them: and this doth not dimini&s;h nor impair the domini|on of the prince, or le&s;&s;en the &s;ubjects obligation, but rather advance and magnifie them; it brigh|tens the Princes glory and makes it more illu&s;tri|ous, it &s;trengthens the Favorites obedience, and makes them more faithful, though not &s;o &s;ervile: &s;uch conde&s;centions &s;wallows up much of the di&s;tance, &s;o that they are not &s;o unequal as be|fore; greatne&s;s is neither deba&s;ed nor dimini&s;h|ed by goodne&s;s; the &s;un that glorious and rai&s;ed body may &s;hine upon a dunghill, yet loo&s;es none of its glory, and though there be noi&s;omne&s;s in the dunghill, it can contract none of the defile|ment, &s;o princes when they &s;hine upon their Fa|vorites in the beams of their genero&s;ity and benig|nity, their honour is not in the lea&s;t impaired thereby: there is no di&s;tance &s;o unequal, but it may be taken up, except that which is &s;o twi&s;ted with the compofition of the per&s;ons, that no art
<PB N="51" REF="29" MS="y"> can loo&s;en, and &s;o natural to the relations, that it would be both impious and impudent to endea|vour it: and that is ba&s;ene&s;s of &s;pirit, that com|plexive incongruity to vertue and honour; men of low principles can never level at high and ge|nerous actions, nor bear any &s;ymetry with tho&s;e of contrary tempers and affections; but if the minde be right, that beginning that was mean may reach a glorious and magnificent end.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="51-100" TYPE="pages">
<P>Thirdly, per&s;ons of different &s;exes cannot com|port them&s;elves for friend&s;hip according to our method, they mu&s;t be either men or women, not a man and a woman, and that becau&s;e as their na|tures are contrary, &s;o is their condition, fancy &amp; bu&s;ine&s;s; nor can they rationally de&s;ign, that e|qual conver&s;ation without which Friend&s;hip is very imperfect, and but a lame attainment; nor can there be that familiar conver&s;e and inti|macy nece&s;&s;ary to this concern, without reflecti|ons, if not temptations: &s;hould I enter into this argument I might finde enough to &s;ay, but I judge it neither grateful nor expedient; Let tho&s;e that are concerned inform them&s;elves from the incon|veniences that daily accrue upon &s;uch adven|tures; they need go no further then common ex|perience and ob&s;ervation to fatisfie their curio|&s;ity.</P>
<P>The fourth inequality to be avoided, is, that of Religion, if there be a confluence of all other requi&s;ites, and there be no harmony and agree|ment, here the Friend&s;hip will be &s;hort lived: no|thing do more unite or divide per&s;ons then Reli|gion, if they agree in principles, religion won|derfully
<PB N="52" REF="30" MS="y"> &s;trengthens the Frend&s;hip, and engages their hearts one towards another; and this mu&s;t needs be &s;o, for if men agree in things of the greate&s;t con&s;equence, it is likely they may ac|cord in things le&s;s con&s;iderable: It is ob&s;erved that no differences are &s;o great as tho&s;e occa&s;ioned by religion, and no &s;pirits &s;o bitter and inexora|ble as &s;uch as are by di&s;putes in Religion exa&s;pe|rated: how hardly are &s;mall di&s;&s;entings in Reli|gion, though but in one &s;ingle point, compo&s;ed? what difficulty then mu&s;t there needs be in redu|cing tho&s;e to compliance that differ in &s;ub&s;tantial points, in the doctrine as well as in the manner of wor&s;hip; and if this be not done, the Frend|&s;hip will be uncertain. I grant, there may be &s;ome circum&s;tantial di&s;&s;enting among friends, and no great prejudice thereby, becau&s;e tho&s;e may be argued with indifference and moderation, and a reconciliation is not impo&s;&s;ible, but very pro|bable, becau&s;e in this ca&s;e the be&s;t rea&s;on carries it, but in &s;ub&s;tantial points the matter is not &s;o &s;oon done: Matter of Faith &s;eems too &s;acred to &s;ubmit to the be&s;t rea&s;on while con&s;cience re|mains un&s;atisfied, who though mi&s;guided and led by examples and cu&s;tome that have no foun|dation in the word of God the mo&s;t infallible rule, yet the&s;e &s;hall have &s;uch influences upon the &s;educed con&s;cience, that they will not give place to the mo&s;t infallible and divine truths, and having made the fir&s;t impre&s;&s;ion will pleade their propriety, and oppo&s;e it again&s;t the commands of divine ju&s;tice: there is much arguing in this ca&s;e, little yielding and compliance, when men
<PB N="53" REF="30"> are tainted with corrupt principles, arguing may beget di&s;gu&s;ts and heats, and ingage the pa&s;&s;ions, and &s;et them all a quarrelling, and winde up the differences to &s;uch heights as will admit of no pacifying arguments: this is plainly proved by common experience; witne&s;s the Church of <HI>Rome,</HI> and the Reformed Churches; what va&s;t endeavours has there been for an accomodation, but with no &s;ucce&s;s; the animo&s;ity grows higher, and a reconciliation more impo&s;&s;ible, as is evi|dent by the va&s;t trea&s;ures that have been expen|ded, and effu&s;ion of bloud that hath been &s;pilt, and is &s;till &s;hedding: Look a little nearer, even among our &s;elves, where the di&s;&s;entings are not &s;o univer&s;al, and we &s;hall finde much vexati|on and trouble: Is it not ob&s;ervable, that per|&s;ons that have lived and conver&s;ed together a great while, have at la&s;t parted, and no cau&s;e vi&s;ible appearing; there &s;eems to be a twofold rea&s;on for this, Fir&s;t, from the difference in opi|nion which prevails &s;o over the pa&s;&s;ions, that love the ma&s;ter-affection which for &s;ome time hath pre&s;erved unity, has now changed its property, and by accident, occa&s;ions the greate&s;t quarrel: had men no religion, they would not be &s;o liable to di&s;&s;entions, there being no cau&s;e for di&s;pute; they were equal in &s;uch a condition, I had almo&s;t &s;aid equally unhappy, but it may be &s;uppo&s;ed, that prudence may do much to compo&s;e things, it may keep in the fire a while, but not long, it will at la&s;t break out into a flame: nothing more common then for men to be great friends, while neuters in religion, but if either come to be &s;in|cerely
<PB N="54" REF="31"> pious, they fall a quarrelling pre&s;ently, it is not the religion that doth it, but the contra|riety of the one again&s;t the Religion of the other; if a man loves his friend, he cannot &s;ee him walk|ing in ways of death and not reprove him, and that &s;martly; and this cannot be born what a|mity can continue: where there can be no argu|ing without quarelling, no reproof without re|torting; now friends begin to treat one the other with &s;u&s;pi&s;ion and ab&s;ent them&s;elves from that equal conver&s;ation and intimacy which fir&s;t made the amity and mu&s;t &s;till pre&s;erve it.</P>
<P>Secondly, the efficacy of piety and religion it &s;elf in&s;en&s;ibly loo&s;ens the knot of this alliance, becau&s;e the one cannot bear the convictions and re&s;traints that will be laid on him by the other, which though not by de&s;igne, and intentially, but by example and accidentally, will be very &s;evere and confining to his extravagant temper: I have read a &s;tory of a young gallant, who had a pious Father, that had given him many admoni|tions, but he little minding the coun&s;el and ex|ample of his father, became vilely vicious, and when he intended to drink to exce&s;s or be any other way debauched in the room where the effiges of his dead father hung, he would fir&s;t draw a curtain before the picture, &s;aying, he could not be frolick while he &s;aw any thing of his father, who had &s;o often reproved him; &s;uch convictions attended him: I &s;hall only add, that in all alliances, religion, if &s;incere, is the &s;ure&s;t tie; nothing we enjoy can be con&s;tant and dura|ble without this: this is the fruit of the tree of
<PB N="55" REF="31"> life, which if we feed on, will make our com|forts not onely long la&s;ting, but our happine&s;s everla&s;ting.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, the inequality of relations comes to be con&s;idered; but before I proceed, give me leave to take notice of an objection which &s;eems ready to a&s;&s;ault me at my fir&s;t entrance into this part of the di&s;cour&s;e, and that is, that I have en|deavoured all along to confine friend&s;hip, and limit it to a moral capacity and &s;o have excluded relations which in truth, are more capable &amp; re|ceptive of it: there are three relations e&s;pecial|ly that make this challenge; Father and Son, Husband and Wife, and Brethren: Pray give me leave to leade the&s;e Objectors into the na|ture of the&s;e relations, and there they will &s;a|tisfie them&s;elves of the invalidity of this &s;plen|did &s;cruple, which is more in &s;hew then in &s;ub|&s;tance.</P>
<P>To begin with the fir&s;t, namely, Father and Son, this relation is &s;o far from equality, that it intends and commands the contrary, it is a com|po&s;ition of di&s;parity, which is &s;o natural to the relation that it can neither have a being nor well|being without it: In&s;tance, the power and au|thority of the Father, which can never be le&s;&s;en|ed, the fear and duty of the Son, which cannot be excu&s;ed: a father is much more bound in this relation then any other &s;uperiour, for they may &s;ometimes di&s;pence with their propriety in this regard, without prejudice to them&s;elves, and with advantage to the inferiour, but a parent cannot abate any of his ju&s;t authority, but with
<PB N="56" REF="32"> injury both to him&s;elf and his &s;on; to him&s;elf by failing in his duty, which is ever to keep up his power in all lawful things; to his &s;on, in laying before him a temptation to di&s;obedience, by his example, while he omits his duty: Indulgence is the inlet to all other traps and &s;nares: &s;ad In&s;tances we have had of this in our pre&s;ent Age, where all vices are made almo&s;t indifferent, but &s;uch as di&s;turb the tranquility of the Kingdom: there are many things of the nature of this relati|on that cannot con&s;i&s;t with a moral Friend&s;hip: In&s;tance, the power and command of the Father, the fear and obedience of the &s;on, the&s;e are con|trary to that per&s;onal equality, which cannot be exempted from Frend&s;hip; it being as natural to the being and well-being of that concern as ine|quality is to this of relations: the propere&s;t ex|pre&s;&s;ions between Friends is that which a Father and &s;on never do, as con&s;tant, familiar conver&s;e, equal conver&s;ation, wherein they always &s;ubmit their wills and affections each to other: there are many things in frend&s;hip that cannot be ad|mitted where there is a challenge of duty and command: it is no prejudice to a parent, and the duty <HI>I</HI> owe him, to pay all po&s;&s;ible endear|ments to my Friend, becau&s;e there are many things due to the one, the other cannot challenge: It is not my de&s;igne to derogate from any relati|on, that ju&s;t e&s;teem they ought to have: this mu&s;t be allowed, that this relation makes great dearne&s;s and a mo&s;t inviolable Frend&s;hip, and under &s;uch real obligations, as the laws of God and men hath made indi&s;pen&s;able, and that be|cau&s;e
<PB N="57" REF="32"> there are duties that obliged them before any other Frend&s;hip could be made, and have left &s;uch impre&s;&s;ion as mu&s;t abide, and will ne|ver give place to any other, becau&s;e of their propriety which is &s;upreme: There are two things e&s;pecially I &s;hall point at, wherein this relation differs from a moral Friend&s;hip, and that is, fir&s;t, in their &s;prings from whence they flow, and Secondly, in their ends and de|&s;ignes: Fir&s;t, the love and frend&s;hip of the relati|on is grounded purely upon natural cau&s;es, and therefore called natural affection: there is no need of prudence in this ca&s;e, no man con&s;ults his rea&s;on, whether he &s;hall love his &s;on or not, a natural in&s;tinct inclines him to that, but if his &s;on be rebellious, then he hath need of prudence to direct him how to regulate his affections, &s;o is his indulgence may not prejudice his &s;on: There are many things binding to per&s;ons in <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">his relation, as the law of God; the law of <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ature, and their love to them&s;elves: parents love <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">heir children becau&s;e they love them&s;elves <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">hey are perpetuated in their children, po&s;terity <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">eing the in&s;truments of a civil immortality; <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ikewi&s;e the &s;on cannot di&s;pute his obedience to <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">is father, he being bound with his father by the <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ame laws, and under more obligations then the <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ather can be. 1. he has his being from his father, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">y which he is capacitated for al the re&s;t that fol|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ow, as his pre&s;ervation, education, example, &s;up|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ly, &amp; all the&s;e adde to the &s;ons obligations, but <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">oral frend&s;hip has no law or obligation predi&s;|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">o&s;ing the per&s;ons for frend&s;hip, but is grounded
<PB N="58" REF="33"> upon moral principles, and is animated by that profit, reward &amp; plea&s;ure that is annexed to the object: Love in this re&s;pect is the effect of an un|con&s;trained choice, and therefore is not &s;ubject to tho&s;e uncertainties that natural affections are; nothing holds the affection &s;tronger and longer then a free choice, we experience this; the love of relations is not much to be tru&s;ted in, as the duties &s;o the love of relations is changeable, and much altered by accidents; in&s;tance, parents much abate in their affections to their children that once they dearly loved, haply occa&s;ioned by &s;ome rebellious &amp; unworthy carriage &amp; actions again&s;t commands, per&s;wa&s;ions, threatnings and intreaties, which aggravate the crimes and make them inexcu&s;able: &s;ometimes cro&s;s marriages become a great ground of quarrell, when they are inferiour or unequal: Again, when &s;ons put them&s;elves upon di&s;honourable de&s;ignes, and by their extravagances brings a general ruine upon them&s;elves and families, and grow &s;o de&s;parate, that in&s;tead of cheri&s;hing and &s;upporting their parents again&s;t the injuries of others, lay violent hands on them them&s;elves, and imbrew their hands in their bloud, or con&s;ent with others, un|naturally de&s;igning again&s;t them, from whom they have their being: <HI>David</HI> had &s;uch a &s;on in <HI>Ab&s;alom,</HI> all which &s;o alienates the hearts of pa|rents, that they cannot give them a favorable a&s;pect without cen&s;ure, nor a place in their thoughts, but with reluctancies, and the aggra|vations which &s;econd the&s;e high provocations are &s;o many and hainous, that natural affection
<PB N="59" REF="33"> &s;ometimes is thereby quit, and abandoned, and <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">hat upon ju&s;t and &s;olid grounds: Othertimes pa|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ents fail in their duty to their children, and carry it unnaturally toward them that have de&s;erved <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">etter, nothing more notorious, then for men to for&s;ake the &s;ons of their love, preferring fome <HI>Dalilah</HI> before them, upon whom they prodigal|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">y &s;pend their &s;ub&s;tance, di&s;couraging and cor|rupting their children together, which they do by their inhumane actions and vicious practi&s;es, and this is worthy our con&s;ideration, how &s;epa|ration will alienate the affections of relations, &s;o that there &s;hall not remain in them a powerful in|clination, either to &s;ollicit or endeavour the pro|&s;perity one of another, but &s;hall prefer a faithful &s;ervant before the relation: this hath been &s;o a|mazing to me, that I have thought natural affe|ction one of the greate&s;t uncertainties of humane life, and not to be confided in, becau&s;e men &s;o &s;trangely degenerate in this re&s;pect; that they make them&s;elves inferiour to the brutes.</P>
<P>Secondly, as the original from whence the love of this relation comes is incongruous to that of Frend&s;hip, &s;o their ends are contrary: Frend&s;hip de&s;ignes nothing more then the plea&s;ure of &s;ocie|ty, whereby by communicating each others joys and hopes, afflictions and di&s;appointments, they come to obtain the proper and mo&s;t u&s;eful effects of Frend&s;hip, but parents have no &s;uch expectation, they do not aim at a &s;ociable con|tentment in their children, nor children in their parents: how freely do parents and children con|&s;ent to be divided, &s;ometimes into the farthe&s;t
<PB N="60" REF="34"> part of the world, one from another; if their per|&s;ons, e&s;tates, or content may be advanced by it&punc; and are very well &s;atisfied, to meet once or twice in their whole lives, or to conver&s;e together in a few lines, which are uncertainly ventured, and &s;eldom arrive at the de&s;ired place, and when they come can do no more but tell them they left a re|lation alive, but how long he hath continued &s;o &s;ince is mo&s;t uncertain: men account them&s;elves rich in relations, when their propriety is &s;o far removed that they &s;erve only for contemplation and generation, both which gives but a general no particular contentment; it is otherwi&s;e among friends, they cannot &s;atisfie them&s;elves in con|templation, fruition is that which compleats their felicity: Friends are like the turtles, they never a&s;&s;ociate them&s;elves with other birds, they never &s;ing and fly abroad for recreation as other birds do, but they have their peculiar notes for each other, and when the one dies, the other droops till he dies; &s;o friends, they need none of tho&s;e vanities that are remote, they never &s;earch after them, the chatting of Friends is to them|&s;elves a mo&s;t plea&s;ing note; they live in the em|braces of each other, and if one dies how impati|ently doth the other lament after him until he die al&s;o: So then it is plain by what has appeared in this argument, that this relation of Father and &s;on hath not in it the capacity of a moral Frend|&s;hip, how then can it have the &s;ignification of it?</P>
<P>The Second Relation to be examined is Hus|band and Wife, the former relation was grounded upon natural cau&s;es, but this upon
<PB N="61" REF="34"> ju&s;tice and rea&s;on, pur&s;uant to a &s;olemn league and Covenant, which cannot be violated, but by the wor&s;t perfidiou&s;ne&s;s, and as the love of that relation was natural this is conjugal, and in &s;ome re&s;pect greater then natural affection, becau&s;e here are greater obligations and more binding duties annexed to this relation then to any other, and that by a twofold law, the law of God, and the law of man. I mu&s;t expect to meet with ma|ny per&s;ons that will think them&s;elves di&s;obliged by this argument, therefore I mu&s;t &s;ay &s;omething to fatisfie them: I mu&s;t confe&s;s, I have le&s;s plea|&s;ure in this part of the di&s;cour&s;e, then in all the re&s;t; This relation by a groundle&s;s &s;uppo&s;ition has been deemed the be&s;t capacity for Frend&s;hip, as having in it &s;elf all that accomodation nece&s;&s;a|ry: Let us con&s;ider the per&s;ons, and then the relation, the per&s;ons &s;trictly con&s;idered, are not fit for this concern, not only becau&s;e of the diffe|rence in &s;exes, though that be &s;omething, but upon many other material con&s;iderations.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, There is the greate&s;t inequality po&s;&s;ible in the per&s;ons, and it is con&s;tituted by the relati|on it &s;elf; per&s;ons may be equall before marri|age, they cannot be &s;o afterwards: now what makes the change, only the relation, nothing el&s;e could do it; if a King gives his Crown and throne to a &s;lave, it's no wonder if the &s;lave po&s;&s;e&s;&s;es that throne and Crown, and he be degraded, but this is not &s;o great a prejudice, as &s;ometimes hap|pens in marriages, for the &s;lave is but an u&s;ur|per, and there is no law to confirm him in that unde&s;erved grandure but tho&s;e that make a like
<PB N="62" REF="35" MS="y"> adventure in this relation; they do not onl<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> throw away their robes, and become equal i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> &s;ubjection to per&s;ons of abject &s;pirits, and co<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">+ditions, and &s;ub&s;ervient to &s;uch as were &s;lave<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> before, or &s;o inferiour that they would hav<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> thought it preferment enough to have had th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> meane&s;t imploy about their per&s;ons; and tha<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> which aggravates it, is that this bondage canno<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> be thrown off, as in the former in&s;tance, but i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> is confirmed by a Law both civil and moral, whic<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> cannot be violated: there are many things of th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> nature of Frend&s;hip, and &s;uch as are mo&s;t emi|nent, which cannot &s;tand with this relation; in|&s;tance they cannot &s;ubmit their judgments and wills one to another in all things, this Frend&s;hip mu&s;t do or it cannot be, and this is expected a|mong Frends which are equal, but not among tho&s;e that cannot be &s;o: for a &s;uperiour to &s;ubmit his judgment and will to an inferiour, is neither ju&s;t nor convenient, but for the inferiour to &s;ubmit both to the &s;uperiour, is ju&s;t and nece&s;&s;ary: it is true, there is command and duty in Frend&s;hip but tho&s;e that command, and them that obey are equal, and though they may &s;ometimes com|mand different things they have not different wills, but this cannot be, where command and duty is &s;everally in the per&s;ons, becau&s;e where there is an ab&s;olute power to command, there follows a proportionable obligation to obey as a ju&s;t due that cannot be excu&s;ed or omitted: and becau&s;e power is not alwaies &s;o regular and ju&s;t as it ought to be, therefore it is, that there is &s;uch difference &amp; jarring among inferiors and &s;uperi|ors;
<PB N="63" REF="35" MS="y"> and this will ever be &s;o long as men hath any thing of pride, or pa&s;&s;ion, and &s;o they augment or le&s;&s;en their authority by the&s;e rules, and hereby &s;ometimes the &s;tate of marri|age is &s;o imbittered that it becomes har&s;h and un|grateful, they will pleade the threatning, this de&s;ire &s;hall be to thy husband, and he &s;hall rule over thee, and the laws of men are &s;eldom favou|rable in this kinde, but impo&s;eth more upon it, as we finde by the civil law of Nations, which commands the man proving bankrupt and ca&s;t into pri&s;on, his wife be &s;old, if &s;he be worth it to redeem her husband; and as if the bondage were not &s;evere enough, the con&s;ent of the wife comes in, and twi&s;ts the cord, and makes it yet &s;tronger; the woman is obliged by no law, till &s;he bindes her &s;elf by a voluntary con&s;ent, nei|ther law of God nor man doth con&s;train her to come under the&s;e re&s;trictions, but finding her there lays more obligations upon her.</P>
<P>2ly, let us examine the relation it &s;elf (&s;ome &s;ay) that conveys Frend&s;hip, we will look into the fir&s;t marriage, that in Paradi&s;e, if a perfect Frend&s;hip, can be conveyed by the relation, we &s;hall finde there <HI>Adam</HI> had as much rea&s;on to contract a perfect frend&s;hip with <HI>Eve</HI> as any man ever had, &s;he being made of the body of <HI>Adam</HI> in a more peculiar maner then any el&s;e ever was, and becau&s;e &s;he was the gift of God immediatly delivered to <HI>Adam</HI> as a token of &s;pecial favour, and becau&s;e there was no creature &s;o &s;uitable to him as &s;he was; and this &s;imilitude was &s;ome in|ducement from a natural principle that inclines
<PB N="64" REF="36"> every creature to love its like; yet notwith&s;tand|ing all this, we &s;ee that in <HI>Adam</HI> that &s;eems contrary to Frend&s;hip in many things, e&s;pecially this, that he &s;o readily and upbradingly laid tha<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> blame upon his wife, a true friend would have taken upon him&s;elf, &s;o that there &s;eems a want of Frend&s;hip in paradi&s;e, and this may very well be, paradi&s;e was not without its wants, man wanted a wife for generation, and why not a friend for coun&s;el, advice, and conver&s;ati|on? had <HI>Eve</HI> had a faithful friend, who would have encouraged and &s;trengthned her again&s;t the in&s;inuations of the &s;erpent, &s;he might have baf|fled his arguments, and repelled his &s;tronge&s;t temptations: on the other &s;ide, had <HI>Adam</HI> been &s;o happy to have had a faithful monitor, in the <HI>intermi,</HI> when the temptation lay before him, he would not have &s;o ra&s;hly ventured upon the breach of that primitive and po&s;itive command, yet he had a greater advantage then the woman, in that he might have argued the point with the woman (with le&s;s &s;urpri&s;e) then the woman could with the Serpent; he had the advantage of di&s;cour&s;e with her: he might have demanded of her, how &s;he could think to e&s;cape the penalty of &s;o peremptory a law, and by what arguments &s;he was invited to the breach of &s;o po&s;itive a command, and what advantage &s;he propounded to her &s;elf in &s;o bold and criminal an undertak|ing; &s;uch arguing might have given &s;ome check to the temptation; much arguing there was be|tween the woman and the Serpent: where was <HI>Adam</HI> then? had there been Frend&s;hip <HI>Adam</HI>
<PB N="65" REF="36" MS="y"> could not have been &s;o long from <HI>Eve,</HI> being in the &s;ame garden with her, till the Serpent could accompli&s;h &s;o great a work; this &s;eems to be a work of time: neither is it likely, had there been this amity, that &s;he would have intended, much le&s;s have acted any thing, till &s;he had ac|quainted <HI>Adam</HI> with it, with whom &s;he would have had inclination enough to advi&s;e with in &s;uch a difficult ca&s;e, there being always a com|munication of affairs between friends: no won|der the woman was &s;educed when all the wit and policy of hell was imployed to do it: but <HI>Adam</HI> without that was betrayed, he ha&s;tily ventures without re&s;ervation and exception upon the breach of &s;o po&s;itive a command.</P>
<P>Again, if this relation could convey the be&s;t Frend&s;hip, none in that relation could mi&s;s it, but experience evinces the contrary: we finde not &s;eldom their open enmity; if the relation could convey it, though there was little love before marriage, there would be no want of it after, but this is clear to common ob&s;ervation, that where per&s;ons have ventured into this relation before, the affection and fancy hath been fixed, the rela|tion hath been &s;o far from engaging the affections and uniting the heart, that it hath encrea&s;ed the enmity, and &s;ometimes to murther and other vi|olent acts; and I might bring many rea&s;ons for this, but I do not love to rake in a kennel.</P>
<P>Again, as repeated fruition is the mo&s;t bind|ing thing among Friends, in this relation it is mo&s;t loo&s;ening; I have heard &s;ome &s;ay, and &s;eri|ou&s;ly to, that repeated fruition is a dull thing,
<PB N="66" REF="37"> &amp; blunts the edge of the greate&s;t affection, Frend|&s;hip in this relation would be arbitrary, and therefore it is that there are &s;uch &s;trong com|mands obliging per&s;ons to the duties of it, as is e|vident by the laws of God and man: It is ob&s;er|vable, that Frend&s;hip is mo&s;t tied, and yet mo&s;t free; there are no laws confining friends, they have no need of coaction to obedience, love is a law to it &s;elf, this &s;hews the natural unfixedne&s;s of the one and the &s;tability of the other: &s;ome men were they left to their liberty as friends are, they would change their wives as often as they put off their clothes; men are much guided by humour and fancy, &s;mall things deludes the fan|cy at one time, and things as contemptible will alter it at another; men ha&s;tily catch at a wife, &s;he plea&s;eth him well, after a little while fancy hath found out &s;ome new object, and then we hear them &s;ay, they cannot fancy the old, the new is better; but Frend&s;hip is ever guided by rea&s;on and judgment, and findes more amiablene&s;s and loveline&s;s in the object every day: give me leave to adde, that per&s;ons in this relation are not capable of tho&s;e convenient and nece&s;&s;ary acts of kindene&s;s that friends are, In|&s;tance in emergences of &s;tate or times of war, a frend may be eminently u&s;eful in either, but what can a wife do, &s;he can have no vote in Council, nor command in war: The wife of <HI>David,</HI> though the daughter of <HI>Saul,</HI> and therefore did not want intere&s;t when he left the Court and betook him|&s;elf to the wars, &s;ignified little to him, but <HI>Iona|than</HI> his friend was more u&s;eful then then ever;
<PB N="67" REF="37"> and this is mo&s;t con&s;iderable, the advantage frend|&s;hip has beyond relations, for per&s;onal kindene&s;s which comes to pa&s;s from hence, becau&s;e they are united in heart though not in per&s;on in a legal &s;en&s;e as men and their wives are; and this is no &s;mall advantage, hereby they are more u&s;eful in times of extremity, where none will a&s;&s;i&s;t and help but them alone; many acts of frend&s;hip women are not capable of, if a husband be arre&s;ted, his wife cannot bail him, but his friend can; if her te&s;timony be never &s;o full and pertinent, it will not be taken for her husband: I might in&s;tance in many other things, but I ha&s;ten from this un|gratefull argument.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, If Frend&s;hip were made by this relati|on, then no man would &s;eek it el&s;ewhere, but we &s;ee tho&s;e per&s;ons who have as much content as the relation can give ambition, this &s;tate of frend|&s;hip and they make the firme&s;t and &s;tronge&s;t alli|ances in this regard, and the rea&s;on they give is this, that they would finde &s;atisfaction mo&s;t &s;uita|ble to their nature and being, and that (&s;ay they) can be no where but among equals, where this only can be found, that the hearts are united and the per&s;ons free to all friendly acts and enter|cour&s;es, and this cannot be among relations, where the per&s;ons are joyned, but too often the hearts are free: I hope none will mi&s;take and think I have no true value for this relation, I have really a great re&s;pect for this relation, and highly e&s;teem it where it is in truth rightly managed: They are mo&s;t happy that meet with lea&s;t di&s;ap|pointments every one will conclude; poverty
<PB N="68" REF="38"> and &s;ickne&s;s what a change do they make, per|&s;ons in this relation aim at many ends, which if they mi&s;s they are impatient, and that becau&s;e there doth not &s;eem efficacy enough in the relati|on to command a &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion to any great di&s;ap|pointment: And by how much the more evils cannot be fore&s;een, by &s;o much the more intole|rable they be: I &s;hall point at but one end and that is children, if they fail of this end, as &s;ome|times they do, what an alienation doth this make, or rather a &s;eparation: I am loth to &s;ay, it is plain enough, but friends can mi&s;s their ends in many th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ngs without di&s;traction, cro&s;&s;es doth not &s;epa|rate them, but rather unite them: <HI>Ionathan</HI> and <HI>David</HI> were never &s;o united as then when afflicti|on &s;eized them, then it was that they renewed their covenant and &s;trengthned their affecti|ons one towards another: Thus I have led you through two relations, the one ground|ed upon the principles of nature, and there|fore binding, the other upon a promi&s;e or covenant no le&s;s obliging, &amp; to both the&s;e friend|&s;hip is due, but not that friend&s;hip or love I am treating of; there is natural affection due to the one and a conjugal love due to the other, which mu&s;t be paid with all care and circum&s;pe|ction.</P>
<P>I &s;hall touch a little briefly upon the third rela|tion, and &s;o come to what I mo&s;t aim at.</P>
<P>The Third Relation I am to &s;peak to is, that of Brethren; I &s;hall con&s;ider the per&s;ons and re|lation jointly; brethren having in them all that worthine&s;s that friend&s;hip requires, are the fit|te&s;t
<PB N="69" REF="38"> &s;ubjects for friend&s;hip, but they do not pa&s;s into it upon the account of relation, nature pa&s;|&s;es but little, but as they are di&s;po&s;ed and pre|pared for it, either by natural qualities or moral excellencies: We &s;ee brothers that live apart, and adopt them&s;elves to Families remote, they have little love: Frend&s;hip is nouri&s;hed by the &s;ame matter by which it was fir&s;t made, it was created by communion and fellow&s;hip in an e|qual conver&s;ation, and mu&s;t live by the &s;ame: the Wi&s;e man ob&s;erved, that in a time of &s;epa|ration frend&s;hip was of a &s;mall &s;ignification: <HI>Bet|ter</HI> (&s;aith he) <HI>is a neighbour near then a brother a|far off;</HI> and he draws his argument from the in|capacity of the one, and the capacity of the other; for all friendly acts &amp; intercour&s;es, its true frend|&s;hip may la&s;t, when by &s;ome accident the per&s;ons are divided, but not in that vigour it did before: it is a langui&s;hing friend&s;hip; we may under|&s;tand this by the &s;imilitude of the love of the iron the load&s;tone, which ari&s;eth from a hidden quali|ty, the motion of the iron towards the load&s;tone is &s;low while at a di&s;tance, but quick when near, and when it doth but touch it, it cleaves &s;o fa&s;t, that unle&s;s forced, 'twill never part, and when it is parted 'twill at the furthe&s;t part of the world retain the vertue of the touch; &s;o Friends while at a di&s;tance move &s;lowly, but when together are &s;o united, that they cannot be &s;eparated without great force and violence, and their &s;eparation is like the dividing the heart from the body: now that there is nothing in the bare relation that can amount to friend&s;hip, will be further evident by
<PB N="70" REF="39"> our daily experience, which furni&s;heth us with in&s;tances of the great animo&s;ities among brethren, and &s;uch aver&s;ions as cannot con&s;i&s;t with friend|&s;hip: Look into the family of <HI>Adam,</HI> and there you &s;ee murther; into the Family of <HI>I&s;aac,</HI> you would think you &s;hould not mi&s;s of kindene&s;s there, yet in&s;tead thereof we finde <HI>E&s;au</HI> con&s;ult|ing with him&s;elf how he &s;hould &s;lay his brother: this is mo&s;t true, that there may be much indea|red affection between brethren, occa&s;ioned by the equalne&s;s of their per&s;ons and conver&s;ation, they having in them all other requi&s;ites, ar<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> fir&s;t to be cho&s;en as the mo&s;t fit per&s;ons for friend&s;hip, the relation being &s;omething, and when both the&s;e meet the relation and frend&s;hip, they exemplifie one the other, and &s;hine mo&s;t illu&s;triou&s;ly; but &s;ome may think, I have pur&s;ued this &s;ubject too far, I am &s;ure it was with no de&s;igne to derogate from the ju&s;t de&s;ert due to any relation, yet I would not have them monopolize our e&s;teem, &s;o as to &s;nuffle out Frend&s;hip, which &s;o truly de|&s;erves our value.</P>
<P>I come now to the qualifications which are ne|ce&s;&s;ary in order to a well grounded frend&s;hip: all that <HI>I</HI> have &s;aid hitherto is previous to what remains: <HI>I</HI> hope none will expect frend&s;hip in an artificial dre&s;s, attended with elegant phra|&s;es, and words well accented, this being both a|bove my ability, and far wide of my de&s;igne, which is a general &s;atisfaction in this materi|al concern, in the plaine&s;t way that <HI>I</HI> can; gla<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ing and gaudy embelli&s;hments being trivial accompli&s;hments where truth is concerned, which
<PB N="71" REF="39" MS="y"> &s;hines bright enough without them.</P>
<P>The Fir&s;t qualification is this, there mu&s;t be an intire affection and love among friends, this is the principal hindge upon which this concern turns, this being a philo&s;ophical di&s;cour&s;e it will be ne|ce&s;&s;ary to touch upon love in general. Love in the general nature of it is either rational and &s;u|pream, or &s;en&s;ual and &s;ubordinate, in the &s;ir&s;t &s;ence love is the mo&s;t vigorous, potent, &s;ove|reign, affectionate; it &s;its as Queen Regent in the will, and governs all the faculties; love is the &s;pring of humane actions, and gives life, being, and motion to them all; the other affections, as de&s;ire, hope, joy, fear, anger, all the&s;e are but the &s;everal forms and &s;hapes o&s; love; for as the object of love is affected with this or that circum|&s;tance, &s;o is love proportionably inve&s;ted with this or that form; if the object be ab&s;ent, love goes out to meet it in de&s;ire, if pre&s;ent, it &s;o|laceth it &s;elf in fruition and delight; if under dan|ger and hazard, love trembleth with fear: if it be impeded or hindred, love waxeth angry and im|patient, when there is any po&s;&s;ibility of enjoying the object: love moves nimbly after it if impo&s;&s;i|ble of enjoyment; &s;o that the object be lo&s;t, love clothes it &s;elf in mourning habit: there is al&s;o a kinde of love in the &s;en&s;ual and animal part, but this is more pa&s;&s;ionate, that in the &s;uperiour part more rational; this is more uncertain, that more fixed; this more confu&s;ed, that more regular and uniform.</P>
<P>There is a threefold love,</P>
<P>Fir&s;t Divine, and that is altogether &s;piritual
<PB N="72" REF="40" MS="y"> and highly rational.</P>
<P>Secondly, there is a natural love, and that may be bruiti&s;n as well as rational.</P>
<P>Thirdly, there is a moral love, and that con|&s;i&s;ts in a mean betwixt both, evermore the thing beloved gives the denomination to love; if the object be divine, it is a divine love; if &s;en&s;ual, it is a bruiti&s;h love; if moral, it is a moral love.</P>
<P>Love is an affection of union whereby we de|&s;ire and enjoy perpetual union with the thing be|loved, and there are the&s;e two effects that imme|diatly flow from this union: Fir&s;t, it is transfor|ming and changing by love&punc; we are changed into a thing more noble or more vile; &s;o that we de|ba&s;e our &s;elves when we love any unworthy and inferiour thing, whatever we love we give a kinde of dominion over us, &s;o that the will lo|&s;eth its dignity when it loves abject things.</P>
<P>Again, Love inlarges and widens the heart, not only for the reception of the bounty and genero|&s;ity of the object, but the object it &s;elf is that the heart goes out after when the will is filled with love, it awakens all the powers, and moves all the faculties towards the object, the under&s;tand|ing meditates and is enquiring after the excellen|cy of the thing beloved, &s;till mu&s;ing and plod|ding about it; the will is ob&s;tinate and will not be charmed of its object; the thoughts they are &s;till kindling the affections who are in eager pur&s;uit after the thing beloved, but <HI>I</HI> &s;hall &s;peak more particularly to this matter, and explain my meaning in this particularly. My meaning is, that there mu&s;t be an intire love not
<PB N="73" REF="40"> only to the qualities of the minde, though tho&s;e be mo&s;t worthy, but this love mu&s;t reach the &s;u|perficies of the body, if that be ungrateful there cannot be a complacential Frend&s;hip; As the in|teriour part mu&s;t have Analogy to rea&s;on, &s;o the external part mu&s;t be accommodated to the fan|cy: in &s;hort, there mu&s;t not be conceived in the &s;ancy a di&s;gu&s;t again&s;t the form and condition of the per&s;on, all love begins with the per&s;on, if that be di&s;plea&s;ing and ungrateful, nothing will &s;atisfie, there is that in the per&s;on of every man that either obligeth or di&s;obligeth the fancy: in|&s;tance, there may be &s;ome per&s;onal defects which are &s;o natural, that they cannot be divided from the per&s;on, and the&s;e may be very di&s;plea|&s;ing; or there may be &s;ome cro&s;s di&s;po&s;itions, &amp; they may be &s;o riveted by cu&s;tome, that they will hardly (if ever) be cured; Love &s;tudies the per&s;on in the fir&s;t place, and it is mo&s;t nece&s;&s;ary, becau&s;e as there is a kinde of antipathy in &s;ome per&s;ons to &s;ome creatures, &s;o that they cannot be brought to take any plea&s;ure in them, &s;o many times we &s;ee an antipathy in men again&s;t &s;uch particular per&s;ons; there is no more rea&s;on to be given for the latter then the former, yet the con|trariety is as evident in the one as the other, and this may be occa&s;ioned by the mi&s;take of fancy, rather then any real defect in the object; the eye of fancy may be &s;o vitiated, that it may not be able to behold the clearne&s;&s;e of a &s;plendid object with complacency and delight, a weak eye can|not look with content upon a clear air, much le&s;&s;e can it behold the &s;un, there is &s;uch a contra|riety
<PB N="74" REF="41"> in them; &s;o that we often draw a curtain between them as a &s;creen or veil, not that the air or &s;un are not both excellent in them&s;elves but the rea&s;on why they are not de&s;irable, is the eye is not receptive of them, becau&s;e of its own im|becility and weakne&s;&s;e: fancy is often &s;urpri&s;ed in the fir&s;t choice and election, &s;ometimes it's blinde, and declines objects mo&s;t worthy, and pur&s;ues tho&s;e that are mo&s;t ba&s;e and abject, it &s;eldom con&s;ults rea&s;on, but often betrays it; &s;pacious objects convey them&s;elves through the fancy to the will; the &s;en&s;es they inveagle the fancy, and the fancy betrays and captivates the will: Fancy othertimes is &s;o idle that it will not take the pains to examine things but is put off with outward gaudine&s;s, it &s;eldome is &s;o cir|cum&s;pect to act by rule, and that is the rea&s;on we are &s;o uncertain in our fir&s;t elections of per|&s;ons and things: Fancy ra&s;hly fixeth without the con&s;ent of rea&s;on, to which it ought to be &s;ub|&s;ervient, rather complying with &s;ence, which makes it &s;tray and warp from the exact rule; it is very hard to &s;ecure the fancy which lies open to &s;o many temptations; and if it be betrayed and deluded, it is as hard to reclaim it: <HI>I</HI> have thought that pa&s;&s;age in <HI>Samuel</HI> worth ob&s;ervati|on, when he was &s;ent to anoint <HI>David, Eliab</HI> the elder brother pa&s;&s;ed before him, he fancies him pre&s;ently, becau&s;e he was a comely per&s;on: we experience this among our &s;elves, when we come into a room where we &s;ee many &s;trange faces, we take an affection to one more then the re&s;t: <HI>Jonathans</HI> heart was knit to <HI>David,</HI> while he was
<PB N="75" REF="41"> di&s;cour&s;ing with <HI>Saul,</HI> and he loved him as his own foul: there is no rea&s;on to be given why a man &s;hould pitch upon one per&s;on with delight without the lea&s;t concern for the re&s;t, but this fancy is &s;urprized, and that &s;o &s;trangely &s;ome|times, that rea&s;on cannot prevail to break tho&s;e fetters the man is manacled with haply to his great prejudice and utter ruine.</P>
<P>As there are &s;everal things that may betray and delude the fancy, &s;o there are things that di&s;|plea&s;e it, that may be removed as a &s;upercilious gravity, this is very ungrateful, yet may not be &s;o rivited as never to be taken away, as a har&s;h and &s;evere a&s;pect, and the like: but tho&s;e things that cannot be divided from the per&s;on mu&s;t (though never &s;o ungrateful in them&s;elves) be kinde|ly accepted: that which &s;eems deformity to ano|ther which &s;tands at a di&s;tance to the object, may appear plea&s;ant to me who am more united, and therefore I may &s;ee comeline&s;s where they fancy nothing but the contrary: this being the prudence of friend&s;hip to reconcile it &s;elf to every thing that at the fir&s;t view may &s;eem not grateful; if this cannot be done fancy is &s;till unea&s;y; where there is a latitude, every faculty will endeavour a &s;atisfaction; fancy bears &s;o great a &s;way in all matters of Love and friend&s;hip, that it will be humored and that in the fir&s;t place, and the rather becau&s;e it &s;tands nearer then any other faculty to that object about which it is conver&s;ant, it is &s;o con&s;iderable, that nothing can be done without it. So there are many things very plea&s;ing and ac|ceptable to the fancy, if it be rightly guided, as
<PB N="76" REF="42"> an humble demonier, a &s;weet and amiable con|ver&s;ation: the wi&s;e-man ob&s;erved, that <HI>the coun|tenance of a man rejoyceth his friend,</HI> if I cannot look upon my friend with delight I cannot love him, looking breeds liking, and proves the in|let to affection: <HI>Jonathan</HI> embraced the per&s;on of <HI>David;</HI> very plea&s;ant was <HI>Jonathan</HI> to <HI>David,</HI> his love pa&s;&s;ed the love of the mo&s;t pa&s;&s;ionate woman.</P>
<P>Secondly, as we mu&s;t love the per&s;on of our friend, &s;o we mu&s;t love his conditions, we can|not love his per&s;on and hate his conditions, this is a paradox, and altogether impo&s;&s;ible: I do not &s;ay, but we may and mu&s;t love the per&s;ons of our enemies, though we mu&s;t hate and abomi|nate their conditions, if they be evil; but this is with a love of charity, it cannot be with a complacential love; what felicity can a vertuous man take in a vicious per&s;on, he may love him &s;o as to pitty and pardon, and conver&s;e with him at di&s;tance, but never &s;o as to court his &s;ociety, and place him in his bo&s;ome, it may be my friend is not the mo&s;t affable courteous and ob|liging, or the patiente&s;t, or the be&s;t humoured man in the world, yet I may love him; one worthy quality is enough to make friend&s;hip, but the more worthy the greater the rea&s;on: a friend mu&s;t endeavour a reconciliation to the condition of his friend as well as his per|&s;on, as far as po&s;&s;ible, and throw the mantle of love over tho&s;e defects that are either acciden|tal, or &s;uch as are not &s;o riveted that they cannot by contrary examples and friendly arguments be
<PB N="77" REF="42"> expunged: in&s;tance, a pa&s;&s;ionate man may &s;ee &s;o much &s;weetne&s;s in patience that he may abhor contention, and &s;o much plea&s;ure in a free and equal conver&s;ation, that he may hate re&s;erved|ne&s;s, and &s;o much grace and beauty in humility, that pride may be ca&s;t out as mo&s;t contemptible: rea&s;on will mightily prevail with ingenious per|&s;ons in this regard, and they may ea&s;ily be con|vinced of the&s;e vanities which cannot con|&s;i&s;t with Frend&s;hip: love cannot be &s;upported but by that which is &s;ub&s;tantial, and this mu&s;t be allowed, that there are &s;ome di&s;po&s;itions that cannot comport them&s;elves for Frend&s;hip: there are di&s;po&s;itions or rather evil qualities that I could never be reconciled to, and they are e&s;pe|cially four, covetou&s;ne&s;s, and deep melancho|ly, pride and envy; I couple them together as tho&s;e tyrants which aim at a perfect conque&s;t o|ver the heart, and life, the&s;e can never &s;tand with this relation and &s;tate of Frend&s;hip, be|cau&s;e they are diametrically contrary, and the only poy&s;on that corrupt and de&s;troy it,</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, <HI>Covetou&s;ne&s;s</HI> ingro&s;&s;es the whole heart, and will endure nothing in the lea&s;t contradicto|ry. Covetou&s;ne&s;s &s;o deba&s;es the heart, that no noble quality can inhabite there; it bends and &s;ubmits all to the mettal it &s;o dearly loves and &s;o highly values, and that is thick clay. Rea&s;on, con&s;cience, and affection are all entangled in this golden web, &s;o that they cannot &s;oare aloft ei|ther to fix upon, or contemplate tho&s;e things that ennable a man, and makes him act like him&s;elf according to his moral excellencies and immorta|lity
<PB N="78" REF="43"> of the &s;oul. A covetous man will lay all things at &s;take, rather than his mony; his repu|tation, life, &s;oul, any thing &s;hall go; &s;ee this in <HI>Gehezi</HI> and in <HI>Demas,</HI> the one imbraced a lepro|&s;ie, rather than loo&s;e a talent; the other for&s;ook God to imbrace this pre&s;ent world. Have we not in&s;tances of this before our eyes every day, when we &s;ee men lay their honour in the du&s;t, &s;a|crifice life, content and every thing to this dumb Idol; that man that loves mony more than him|&s;elf, or God, mu&s;t needs love it better than his friend, and therefore above all per&s;ons fit to be excluded.</P>
<P>Secondly, <HI>melancholy</HI> in the extremity of it comes next to be examined, and this always ac|companies the former; that fills the heart with di&s;tracting cares, vehement de&s;ires, which if cro&s;&s;ed, pre&s;ently this is ready, as an effect of that cau&s;e; as appears in wicked <HI>Haman;</HI> he co|veted not only riches but honour, as mo&s;t cove|tous men do; though they never do a generous act to de&s;erve it; and becau&s;e he could not ob|tain it from <HI>Mordecai</HI> an incon&s;iderable per&s;on in his e&s;teem, he pre&s;ently falls into a fit of me|lancholy, and though he had more to boa&s;t of then mo&s;t men in re&s;pect of his honour, riches, and favour with the King, yet all this &s;ignified nothing, as long as <HI>Mordecai</HI> &s;tood in the kings gate, who refu&s;ed that obei&s;ance to <HI>Haman,</HI> he &s;o eagerly coveted, and &s;o impartiently pined after, and hereupon the devil deludes him, and helps him to hammer out this device in his own &s;hop, (which is melancholy) to hang <HI>Mordecai.</HI>
<PB N="79" REF="43"> This was the anvil <HI>Haman</HI> had been working at before, when he had framed an engine to de&s;troy all the Jews. I cannot find any ill quality exclu|ded from melancholy, as wrath, malice, en|vy, uncharitablene&s;s, mi&s;-tru&s;t, &s;elf-love in the highe&s;t degree, and where all the&s;e are, we may ju&s;tly conclude there cannot be frend&s;hip: they love nothing but them&s;elves, they indulge them|&s;elves, they admire them&s;elves, as if God had created them for no other purpo&s;e, or to any other end; and &s;o extream wilful are they, if they will their own de&s;truction, they will effect it, they are naturally the greate&s;t cowards in the world, and they cannot be otherwi&s;e, except carried out by &s;ome violent motion, as pride, jealou&s;ie, covetou&s;ne&s;s, or malice; <HI>&amp;c.</HI> they will lay violent hands upon them&s;elves, and this they call re&s;olution, but it is the cowardlye&s;t act po&s;&s;ible to come upon nature when it is na|ked, and de&s;troy it, when by &s;tarving or di&s;con|tent nature is brought low, to lay violent hands upon it this cannot be valour. I dread nothing more than this petti&s;h humour and di&s;po&s;ition; I could never make friend&s;hip with a per&s;on who in all re&s;pects <HI>I</HI> might believe would be as prodi|gal of my life, &s;hould <HI>I</HI> tru&s;t it with him as of his own. Many Examples we have of this daily, and much blood hath been &s;hed by melancho|ly, that often harbours &s;uch di&s;contents, that no|thing but blood can &s;atisfy, and not &s;eldom the blood of tho&s;e they have mo&s;t rea&s;on to pre&s;erve; <HI>Judas</HI> was &s;uch a one, who through covetou&s;nes fir&s;t betrayed his ma&s;ter, and after through me|lancholy
<PB N="80" REF="44"> hanged him&s;elf.</P>
<P>Secondly, let us con&s;ider the other couple pride and envy. A proud man cannot be a true friend becau&s;e he cannot deny him&s;elf, in any re&s;pect: He wholy aimes at him&s;elf in his thoughs, words, and actions; his honour, plea|&s;ure, ea&s;e is all he looks after; he is not &s;ollici|tous how it fares with others: He will be a <HI>Dio|trephes</HI> and have the preheminence: he cannot give place: him&s;elf is his end, and his will is his rule, by which he &s;quares all his actions&punc; and the Law he endeavours pa&s;&s;ionately to bring all others unto &s;ubjection to, at lea&s;t all tho&s;e that are under his power and juri&s;diction: like <HI>Haman</HI> he will rather lo&s;e his life, then abate any thing of his pride, is contentious and clamo|rous and cannot &s;tand with friend&s;hip. <HI>Iehu</HI>-like he carries on all his de&s;ignes: he is well learn|ed in the art of multiplication and addition&punc; but a novice in the rule of &s;ub&s;traction, except from others to him&s;elf. Pride is an unbecoming garment, let it be never &s;o &s;plendid in &s;hew, it is but a fools coate: a proud man is &s;till build|ing up his own reputation with the ruine of o|thers, he thinks him&s;elf always degraded when another is valued; and what&s;oever is attributed unto another, though never &s;o ju&s;t, he thinks it a wrong done to him: he would willingly ingro&s;&s;e all the applau&s;e unto him&s;elf, though he ne|ver appear in any generous action to de&s;erve it&punc; he cares not who lo&s;es, &s;o that he may gain: he will rather rob God him&s;elf, as <HI>Herod</HI> did, then deny applau&s;e: he will blaze abroad any thing
<PB N="81" REF="44"> that hath but the appearance of good, but will &s;eldom or never do any prai&s;e&punc; worthy act: upon an adre&s;s to him, let the complaint be never &s;o ju&s;t, and the adre&s;&s;e never &s;o humble, and the object never &s;o deprorable, he is no way affected, but like <HI>Nabal</HI> a man cannot &s;peake to him: he covets to be admired by all, but obliges none: feared he may be, but never loved: this man may promi&s;e fair, but he is &s;o uncertain, you cannot tru&s;t him: by all which it is clear that a proud man cannot be fit for frend&s;hip, that re|quires all the contrary di&s;po&s;itions, and mu&s;t po&s;&s;efs them, or cannot be at all.</P>
<P>Secondly, Let us con&s;ider a little of Envy. <HI>So|lomon</HI> &s;aith, make no frend&s;hip with an angry man, and with the envious thou &s;halt not go: and here (that I may not be mifunder&s;tood,) we mu&s;t di&s;tingui&s;h of anger. I do not mean by anger here, the boiling of the blood, which comes from a natural cau&s;e, this is like a fla&s;h of lightning, &s;oon come and &s;oon gone: This is found to be the con&s;equence of the be&s;t di&s;po&s;ition; but I mean by this anger, that which ari&s;eth from an envious heart, that cannot &s;leep except they have done mi&s;chief. The&s;e are like thunderclaps &s;e|cretly wounding to the very heart, and bears down all before it. <HI>Solomon</HI> ob&s;erved this, who can &s;tand (&s;aith he) before envy. Such have tho&s;e things in their hearts, and practi&s;es that cannot po&s;&s;ibly abide with frend&s;hip, but would immediately, like a worm, eat out the &s;ub&s;tance of it. This anger or rather revenge re&s;ts in the bo&s;ome of the&s;e fools: It is not a wayfaring man
<PB N="82" REF="45"> that continues for a night, but an inhabitant that is always at home plotting and contriving how to tread down credit, e&s;tate, life, and all, if it &s;tand in its way. An envious man hath the&s;e qua|lities, he is &s;oon di&s;obliged, never reconciled. He can forgive (he will &s;ay) but never forget: he is con&s;tant in nothing but vexation: his tongue a per&s;ecutor: his heart like the troubled waters, ca&s;ting up nothing but mire and durt: Such a one was <HI>Simei,</HI> his revenge to his &s;ervant was &s;o great, that he mu&s;t follow him with the peril of his own life. You know what <HI>Simei</HI> was, by his railing at <HI>David:</HI> doubtle&s;s he was an en|vious and a malicious man: he that will prefer his pa&s;&s;ion before his own life, will hardly value the life of his friend. The calm temper is the be&s;t accommodated for frend&s;hip: <HI>how much better is a handful of green herbs, where quietne&s;s is, then a &s;talled oxe with &s;trife.</HI> A malitious man cannot be grateful; he is &s;atisfyed with nothing: if a man be good he grudges that; if he be evil he will revile him, though he be wor&s;e abundantly him&s;elf: he is like the witches, that put on their eyes when they went abroad, but when they came home, they put them in their pockets: if he fan|cies an undervalue, he will hate a man for that, and he will never be &s;erious about the cau&s;e of that hatred, but pronounce judgment right or wrong upon the per&s;on offending (as he pre|tends,) he will di&s;pence with all manner of ju&s;tice in this ca&s;e: he will do as <HI>Felix</HI> did by <HI>Paul,</HI> may be, promi&s;e a hearing at a more con|venient &s;ea&s;on, but that &s;ea&s;on &s;hall never come,
<PB N="83" REF="45"> he having much more plea&s;ure in aggravating quarrels, then &s;tudying peace.</P>
<P>Secondly, The &s;econd qualification is &s;utable|ne&s;s in conver&s;ation and expre&s;&s;ion. There mu&s;t be an agreement here, or el&s;e no amity, and herein is mo&s;t of the &s;weetne&s;s of frend&s;hip; can two walk together except they are agreed? walking &s;ignifies all manner of familiar conver&s;e, and &s;ociable delight, and this is very plea&s;ant: I would rather have a friend that could delight me, than one that could enrich me: there is a va&s;t content in the conver&s;ation of friends, e&s;pecial|ally in their communications, recreations, &amp; ne|gotiations. In conver&s;ation we expre&s;s tho&s;e en|dearments and affections that feed a real frend|&s;hip; in communicating our joys and griefs, the fir&s;t is doubled, the la&s;t is divided: with how much &s;atisfaction do friends chat away &s;ad times, that otherwi&s;e would &s;eem tedious, either by di&s;appointments or actual &s;ufferings; not &s;eldom they di&s;cour&s;e them&s;elves out of a petti&s;h hu|mour, changing di&s;tracting thoughts and un|grounded re&s;olutions, for a calm and &s;erious temper, and this may be done by &s;olid and &s;eri|ous arguments, wherein there is not only profit but beauty. <HI>Solomon</HI> &s;ays, <HI>a word &s;poken in &s;ea&s;on</HI> how good is it? <HI>It is like apples of gold in pictures of &s;ilver;</HI> friends they have much variety of bu&s;i|ne&s;s to communicate, as their fears, and doubts, perfections, and imperfections; their hopes, and delights, e&s;pecially their affections, and cove|nant of frend&s;hip which is often renewed. There mu&s;t be this intercour&s;e between frends to avoid
<PB N="84" REF="46" MS="y"> &s;u&s;pition if they will be happy; and this is ex|ceeding nece&s;&s;ary, becau&s;e fear offers violence to nature, takes away mans &s;trength, draws a cloud upon all his comforts, and lies like a ta|lent of lead upon the heart, we are mo&s;t times more unhappy in what we fear, then in what we feel: How did <HI>Bel&s;hazars knees &s;mite one again&s;t another, and his very joynts were loo&s;ed when the hand-writing appeared upon the wall?</HI> Is it not ma|ny times &s;o with the be&s;t of us, when God writes bitter things again&s;t us? a friend in this extremi|ty of affairs comes like the &s;hepherds with tidings of great joy, &amp; declares our peace with God, his good will towards us. The&s;e are the heart-cheat|ing arguments, that winds up the heart above tho&s;e fears, and like the &s;un di&s;&s;ipates the clouds, and opens a door of hope: fear overwhelms a man, ca&s;ts him into a &s;wouning fit: a gracious and &s;erious friend revives and re&s;tores him to his &s;trength again. Doubts are as in&s;eparable to men in their mo&s;t &s;erene temper, as motes from the air in the cleare&s;t day, or &s;pots from the moon in the brighte&s;t night; there is much cau&s;e of he&s;itati|on in men of the pure&s;t and mo&s;t innocent conver|&s;ations, they are not without their entanglements, many a perplexing web they &s;pin; but the&s;e may be unravelled by a judicious friend, who happily may be skilful, as <HI>Io&s;eph</HI> was to an&s;wer tho&s;e riddles of providence, and re&s;olve tho&s;e doubts that at pre&s;ent &s;eems intricate, and pa&s;t finding out. <HI>Io&s;eph</HI> was &s;uch a friend to the chief butler: men are many times rea&s;oned off their doubts, and inforced to throw them away, be|cau&s;e
<PB N="85" REF="46" MS="y"> they cannot abide the te&s;t and conviction of rea&s;on. <HI>Ionathan</HI> and <HI>David</HI> the be&s;t friends we ever read of, they &s;pent much time in communi|cating their di&s;pondences and trouble. Saith <HI>Da|vid, there is but a &s;tep betwixt me and death:</HI> how affectionately did <HI>Ionathan</HI> re&s;olve this doubt; who alone was the mo&s;t likely in&s;trument to &s;e|cure <HI>David:</HI> which he did, more then promi&s;e, in his an&s;wer to <HI>Davids</HI> &s;cruple, where he &s;aith, <HI>whatever thy &s;oul de&s;ires, I will do it for thee,</HI> and &s;o goes on with pregnant arguments of his faith|fulne&s;s to <HI>David,</HI> whereby he cleared the mo&s;t puzling doubt of all by expre&s;&s;ing his care and kindne&s;s in a matter that concerned <HI>Davids</HI> life: the pre&s;erving of which mu&s;t loo&s;e <HI>Ionathan</HI> his crown. <HI>Ionathan</HI> lying under this temptation, no wonder if <HI>David</HI> had doubts in &s;uch times as the&s;e are; friends mu&s;t renew their covenants, as they did, and acquie&s;ce in the faithfulne&s;s of each other.</P>
<P>Again, friends communicate their Joys and hopes; joy will &s;trengthen nature as effectually as fear will impair it: he is no friend that will not be more ready to impart his comforts then his &s;orrows, which he may do with more freedom &amp; le&s;s caution, and may promi&s;e him&s;elf a mutual &s;atisfaction, which doubles the content. There are many things that cheers the heart, but the&s;e being according to the conditions of the per&s;on concerned we cannot well define them, but this in the general ob&s;erve, that whatever is ab&s;olute|ly nece&s;&s;ary, earne&s;tly expected, ju&s;tly due, if accompli&s;hed is a matter of joy &amp; delight, and
<PB N="86" REF="47"> cannot faithfully be concealed; whatever my friend takes plea&s;ure in, I mu&s;t not withhold but rather augment, illu&s;trate and amplify it, always annexing a complacent behaviour, as the &s;itte&s;t temper for that &s;ea&s;on, when the heart is upon the wing of hope &amp; joy, that will rai&s;e the &s;ocial communication of friends to a high pitch of &s;atis|faction; when the heart is full of plea&s;ure, it is full of love, and re&s;olution; the&s;e being as na|tural to joy and hope, as di&s;content and har&s;hnes is to fear and doubt: a merry heart makes a joy|ful countenance: what is more plea&s;ing then a cheerful a&s;pect? hope is to the &s;oul as the an|chor is to the &s;hip: it keeps it &s;teady among the mo&s;t perplexing waves: Joy is a pa&s;&s;ion ari&s;ing from the apprehen&s;ion of &s;ome good we have in hand or in hope, relating to our &s;elves or others: did I apprehend any thing in my &s;elf, in the world or in my friend that could be matter of plea&s;ure unto him, I could be neither kind nor civil to con|ceal it, nor could any thing be matter of joy un|to me if I could not impart it, at be&s;t it would be but a half joy.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, love and delight mu&s;t be imparted al|&s;o in this equal conver&s;ation: love is the hand within the wheel which turns the whole con|cern; as the heart mu&s;t not be without the habits of an intire affection, &s;o our conver&s;ation mu&s;t not be without the acts in our daily commerce: Love is workful and watchful: this pa&s;&s;ion is ve|ry indu&s;trious, it's never off from action, nor doth it ever want expre&s;&s;ion: It &s;hrinks at neither &s;er|vice nor &s;uffering: it is oyl to the wheel of acti|on:
<PB N="87" REF="47"> It thinks no &s;uffering intolerable &s;o long as it enjoys the help of a true friend, who will take up the heavye&s;t end of the burthen, putting oyle into the wound, and joy into the heart by chee|ring con&s;iderations. In afflictions (&s;ayth <HI>Job</HI>) pitty &s;hould be &s;hewed by a friend. This is the di&s;criminating time; a friend is known in adver|&s;ity. If a man can delight in his friend when under a cloud, when his lu&s;tre is ob&s;cured (this &s;peaks a fa&s;t friend) and admini&s;ters great delight: we do not much value our entertainment in a pro&s;pe|rous e&s;tate, all will admire the ri&s;ing &s;un, but to have an equal re&s;pect when declining this is rare, and can proceed from nothing, but an unchang|able affection, which excellently improves all opportunities and &s;ea&s;ons to expre&s;&s;e that love and delight which is con&s;onant unto it &s;elf: no|thing more &s;weet then endeared expre&s;&s;ions, the&s;e leave a tincture upon the heart many days after. How do we <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">owle &s;uch expre&s;&s;ions in our thoughts as hony under our tongue. Love is full of contemplation and invention, and therefore cannot be wanting in expre&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>Suitablene&s;&s;e in recreation and bu&s;ine&s;&s;e in the world is al&s;o con&s;iderable as that which com|pleats the happine&s;s of this concern exceedingly; if friends differ here, much of their &s;ociety will be lo&s;t. In&s;tance, one man affects &s;erious recre|ation, another tho&s;e that are mo&s;t &s;en&s;ual; the&s;e cannot hold corre&s;pondency one with another long, but mu&s;t certainly one time or another ha|zard a breach, becau&s;e that their recreations are not only different but diametrically contrary, and
<PB N="88" REF="48"> con&s;equently will occa&s;ion di&s;content on both &s;ides. A &s;erious man though he may bear while he thinks there is &s;ome hopes of reclaiming, yet he cannot alwaies do it becau&s;e contrary to his rea&s;on, affection and humour, nor can he long &s;u&s;pend his cen&s;ures; on the other &s;ide plea&s;ure will &s;o prevail with him that loves it that he will defend it, and contemn rea&s;on and re|ligion too, if it &s;tand in oppo&s;ition to, or in com|petition with it, plea&s;ure being very attractive and prevailing, nothing more.</P>
<P>Let your bu&s;ine&s;s as much as po&s;&s;ible be the &s;ame, at lea&s;t nor contrary; much of the &s;weet|ne&s;s of Friend&s;hip &s;tands in living, walking, wor|king together; there is nothing a man is more impatient of then the ab&s;ence of his friend: O how he longs for his communion! as the la&s;t &s;weetens and &s;hortens time, &s;o the fir&s;t imbitters it and makes it tedious; the rea&s;on is ready, be|cau&s;e there is nothing &s;o har&s;h as di&s;appoint|ments, e&s;pecially in tho&s;e things wherein we expect the highe&s;t &s;atisfaction and plea&s;ure; &s;uitable to mens negotiations &s;uch are their con|ditions and affections; If a mans bu&s;ine&s;&s;e carry him far away, &s;o that he &s;tands at a great di&s;tance to the object, you will &s;oon &s;ee coldne&s;&s;e in af|fection, carele&s;ne&s;&s;e and unconcernedee&s;&s;e will follow immediatly; and as clouds will darken the &s;plendour of Frend&s;hip, though it &s;hined ne|ver &s;o bright before, and that becau&s;e they can|not be capable of tho&s;e acts of kindene&s;&s;e which beautifies and maintains Frend&s;hip: be&s;ides they meet with many diver&s;ions and temptations,
<PB N="89" REF="48" MS="y"> which like a moth will &s;oon deface the beauty and glory of this concern.</P>
<P>There mu&s;t be &s;uitablene&s;&s;e in the expre&s;&s;ion of our love; we mu&s;t not ob&s;erve different me|thods in the expre&s;&s;ing of our affections: there is more in this then at the fir&s;t view doth appear or we think of: the want of this hath occa&s;ioned much difference among Friends, and created ma|ny cau&s;le&s;s &s;u&s;picions, when their manner of expre&s;&s;ions hath been contrary: In&s;tance, &s;ome are more open and free, others more clo&s;e and re&s;erved; the fir&s;t cannot believe any temper &s;o contrary to genero&s;ity, can haveany con&s;i&s;ten|cy with Frend&s;hip; the latter &s;u&s;pects the former, as altogether appearing in hyperboles, thinking that they ri&s;e to high in their expre&s;&s;ion to be real and &s;o cen&s;ure and &s;light it, though it be never &s;o ingenious and certain. But when that method is the &s;ame, how confirmed and fixed is the frend|&s;hip; and this is not hard to be brought to pa&s;&s;e among prudent per&s;ons, which though at the fir&s;t they &s;eem very different, yet they will &s;oon agree: if they argue the ca&s;e, and yield on both &s;ides to that which comes neare&s;t the rules of a perfect friend&s;hip in that latitude in which it ought to be con&s;idered, I think this would be one of the fir&s;t things I would &s;tudy, were I to contract a well grounded friend&s;hip. I never affected hyperbo|les in friend&s;hip; though &s;ome &s;ay in love they are mo&s;t comely; becau&s;e by the &s;ame rea&s;on I may not believe &s;ome, I may que&s;tion all that is expre&s;&s;ed by them. A true expre&s;&s;ion is mo&s;t plea&s;ing and in&s;inuating: &s;ome truths may be
<PB N="90" REF="49" MS="y"> more valued than others; not that there is any defect in truth, but there may be in them that re|ceives it. We value all truths, but e&s;pecially tho&s;e we be&s;t under&s;tand, and is of greate&s;t u&s;e unto us. Some truths may be &s;o high that we can|not reach them: others may be &s;o contrary to &s;ome tempers that they will not believe them, and hereby truth pa&s;&s;es under a notion of fal&s;hood, men are hardly brought to believe that in others which they cannot finde in them&s;elves; never in|&s;i&s;ting upon their own incapacity for it, becau&s;e that were a &s;ecret reproof, and a clo&s;e reflexion, and therefore are more prone to conclude things impo&s;&s;ible they cannot po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e, then prize or va|lue them in another. Neither would I be too low in my expre&s;&s;ions; this were coming as &s;hort as the other was &s;hooting beyond the mark; becau&s;e high affections are alwaies accompanied with proportionable expre&s;&s;ions. Nor could any thing mean be accepted; where there are &s;uch va&s;t expectations, as in friend&s;hip; but pru|dence may &s;o regulate this affair, that neither demon&s;tration nor expre&s;&s;ion, confirmation nor affection &s;hall be wanting; as al&s;o bend all things to the perfect rule, &s;o as there &s;hall appear &s;o much equality as &s;hall reach and continue a real &s;atisfaction and a right under&s;tanding of all things that at fir&s;t &s;eemed to render this &s;amene&s;s in ex|pre&s;&s;ion impo&s;&s;ible or at lea&s;t unea&s;y.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, above all di&s;parity be careful of this, that there be &s;ome proportion in your e&s;tates; covet not a per&s;on much richer than your &s;elf to make a friend of: you may run into more incon|veniences
<PB N="91" REF="49"> then you are aware of in this re&s;pect; &s;utablene&s;s here is as con&s;iderable as in any of the former: I would not aim at an advantage here, becau&s;e as I would not have a friend that could not do me courte&s;ies, &s;o I would not have too great a dependance upon him: it is a more ble&s;&s;ed thing to give, than to receive. I would rather take a friend that &s;hould &s;hare with me, then one that &s;hould think my affection a purcha&s;e he made by his money. If you fancy a friend that is rich, or rather for his riches, &s;it down fir&s;t and con&s;ider the charge; this may co&s;t you more than it is worth: we mu&s;t be very di&s;creet in this ca&s;e, men cannot long love chargeable things: &s;uch per&s;ons may expect too much di&s;tance, obliga|tion, and &s;ervice to &s;tand with this relation: you mu&s;t wi&s;ely weigh all circum&s;tances, and not de|pend too much, if you intend to be happy: Mo|ney will beat down the price of friend&s;hip and contend for &s;uperiority; and will think it very hard to be denyed when the lea&s;t rea&s;on of chal|lenge appears, we know, it is too ba&s;e to be com|pared with friend&s;hip, yet it would be honoured becau&s;e it has a &s;plendida&s;pect, it carries its value in its face, &amp; like an u&s;urper endeavours to &s;ub|mit to &s;lavery &amp; contempt, that which is infinitely more valuable; true it is a vertuous man may be outwardly mean and contemptible, yet hath a minde more glorious than the gold that peri&s;heth. I cannot but &s;mile when I &s;ee per&s;ons valued for their money, and they take very kindely, that which would be a vexation to me, which is, to &s;ee my &s;ervant honoured above my &s;elf. How
<PB N="92" REF="50"> contemptible would many be, (though they make a great noi&s;e in the world, and are cloathed in gorgeous apparel) if their golden &s;ervant were gone, that they are adored for: &s;uch a man would be de&s;pi&s;ed though he be now like <HI>Dives,</HI> as <HI>Lazarus</HI> upon the dunghill, there is no real worth in gold, all is but fancy: there is more worth in a peece of bread, or in a draught of wa|ter then in all the &s;ilver and gold in both the <HI>In|dies;</HI> Heathens could &s;ee this.</P>
<P>We read of the <HI>Medes</HI> that they did not care for &s;ilver, and for gold they had no delight in it; It is hardly to be creditted how wi&s;e men do adore this dumb Idol, and value them&s;elves by it, &s;tripping them&s;elves of robes and clothing them&s;elves with rags, I mean when they deba&s;e their rea&s;on which is the crop and glory of man in his moral capacity, and cloathe them&s;elves with thick clay, I could never honor nor e&s;teem a worthle&s;&s;e man, though I &s;aw him tumble in gold, no more than I could value a puppet be|cau&s;e he had glittering attire. I cannot admire per&s;ons, as they admire them&s;elves if their great|e&s;t excellency be riches, and are only happy that they have what their mony can procure, making a hundred things nece&s;&s;ary to them&s;elves, men of real worth could live and be happy without. I will never make a friend&s;hip with one that mu&s;t maintain me: it is ten to one if ever I &s;hould be brought to &s;et &s;o high a value upon an e&s;tate, as tho&s;e who&s;e property it is would expect, if all the gold &amp; &s;ilver in the world were put into one &s;cale and a vertuous man in the other, the latter would
<PB N="93" REF="50"> mightily overballance. I will ble&s;s God for plen|ty, but abundance I would be afraid of; and e|vermore remember what we are taught in our Litany to pray, which is, <HI>in time of our wealth, good Lord deliver us.</HI> If money were as little valu|ed as vertue, and a greater price put upon good|ne&s;s, we might yet live to &s;ee &s;ome happy days. There is nothing more contemptible than tho&s;e that look no higher then money; they cannot be hone&s;t, they will make &s;hipwrack of a good con|&s;cience to get it, nor are they de&s;irable, becau&s;e &s;o low in their ends and aims, that they do not think it worth their while to drive any other trade, but their profit: they will not be rational for fear they &s;hould not be rich; they cannot look off from their wealth, nor &s;tudy any other mi&s;te|ry: The&s;e per&s;ons will never be at the charge of frend&s;hip: all your endeavour there will be like water &s;pilt upon the ground, that can never be gathered up again, no &s;uitable returns can be expected.</P>
<P>The third qualification, is &s;elf-denyall: this is mo&s;t nece&s;&s;ary in frend&s;hip: friends mu&s;t not be wilful; there may be &s;ea&s;ons when they cannot de&s;erve that name, if they cannot deny them|&s;elves. <HI>Jonathan</HI> denied him&s;elf eminently for <HI>David,</HI> they were both obliging, but <HI>Ionathan</HI> exceeded, becau&s;e though he knew <HI>David</HI> would prove a &s;upplanter, yet he con&s;ulted how to pre|&s;erve him, hazarding the lo&s;&s;e of his crown and kingdom. A man will in &s;ome re&s;pects do more for his friend than him&s;elf, in a way of &s;elf-deni|all: many men would be reduced to great
<PB N="94" REF="51" MS="y"> &s;traights, rather than court &s;ome per&s;ons for them&s;elves, yet can cheerfully do it for their friend, I could deny my &s;elf e&s;tate, habitation, relations, any thing for my friend, but reputa|tion and con&s;cience; to &s;acrifice the fir&s;t were to lie under a crime unpardonable aniong men: the violating of the la&s;t a &s;in inexcu&s;able before God: both which would make me too ba&s;e for this concern; no per&s;on fit to be tru&s;ted with frend|&s;hip, that can prodigally part with tho&s;e things &s;o precious, that nothing can repair, or expiate.</P>
<P>The fourth qualification: there mu&s;t be free|ne&s;s and openne&s;s of heart; freedom and frend|&s;hip is in&s;eparable; and can no more be divided then the cau&s;e from the effect; Re&s;ervedne&s;s can|not be admitted: It is too late to lock the cabinet when the Jewel is gone: where I can give my heart, I can re&s;erve nothing: true love allows neither re&s;ervation nor exception, all is free; their intercour&s;e is without violence. How in&s;i|nuating is affection! how ea&s;ily it winds it &s;elf into the heart? If I cannot live in the heart of my friend, he is no friend to me. And if he be an o|pen-hearted man he is open-handed: he that hath acce&s;&s;e to my heart, hath a key to my cabinet, or el&s;e no freedom, and con&s;equently no real frend|&s;hip. A generous man can as freely give as re|ceive, he hates covetou&s;ne&s;s: If there can be no frend&s;hip without exchange of hearts, &s;urely then the heart comprehends all things el&s;e inferi|our, and &s;peaks a full po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion of all things that are near and dear to a man. There is a reci|procation of affairs between friends: all things
<PB N="95" REF="51"> are common: there is but one common &s;tock be|tween them it is true, the property may be in one, but the u&s;e mu&s;t be in both: there is no|thing &s;o low as money among friends in their e&s;teem and value: and if they can part with eve|ry thing el&s;e, they will never grudge that; nor can any prudence re&s;train a man who hath vo|luntarily put his friend into po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion, and bound him&s;elf to maintain it, and can no way be di&s;ob|liged but by the wor&s;t perfidiou&s;ne&s;s po&s;&s;ible; there is no contending for propriety in this &s;tate: if my e&s;tate &s;nall not &s;erve my friend, I will ne|ver give him that name.</P>
<P>The fifth qualification is Wi&s;dom: a&punc; man of under&s;tanding is of an excellent &s;pirit; wi&s;|dom makes the face of man to &s;hine upon his friend with heart-gladning rayes. <HI>Solomon</HI> is &s;aid in re&s;pect of his wi&s;dom that <HI>he was as an angel of God.</HI> And indeed nothing makes a man in his mo|ral e&s;tate more divine than wi&s;dome. A man can|not be happy except his friend hath competent wi&s;dom. I grant that there are differences in men: &s;ome are not &s;o capable as others: propor|tionable to the wi&s;dom of our friend, &s;o is our wealth in him; that is the greate&s;t trea&s;ure be|cau&s;e mo&s;t excellent and u&s;eful: there are many intricacies a man winds him&s;elf into; &s;ometimes by impudence, othertimes by ignorance; the clue is in the heart &amp; hand of a judicious friend, that may bring him out: If my friend be wi&s;e, I can confide in him in the wor&s;t of times: many plain-hearted men have been undone for want of this: how oft do we hear them complaining? all
<PB N="96" REF="52"> this evil is come upon me, becau&s;e I had no &s;eri|ous, wi&s;e, and faith&s;ul friend to advi&s;e me in this or the other affair, but now it is too late, I am ruined: If <HI>Ioabs</HI> wi&s;dom had not interpo&s;ed, <HI>Da|vid</HI> had been undone in that ca&s;e concerning <HI>Ab|&s;olon.</HI> A wi&s;e man can &s;ee an evil before it comes, and extenuate it when it is come. <HI>A prudent man fore&s;ees the evil, and hideth him&s;elf</HI> and his friend both; they will be together. It was no &s;mall advantage to <HI>Pharaoh</HI> that <HI>Io&s;eph</HI> fore&s;aw the evil of famine coming upon the land of <HI>Egypt,</HI> when it came how ea&s;y it was made by the wi&s;|dom of <HI>Io&s;eph,</HI> the &s;tory will inform us. There are many things to be done before we come to an undoing nece&s;&s;ity: a wi&s;e man fore&s;ees that, and does that now by way of prevention that an imprudent man would wi&s;h he had done, when the extremity is upon him. Wi&s;dom is mo&s;t de|&s;irable in this regard, becau&s;e there is no great want, where it is rightly improved: it is the ladder by which men climb up to honour, and is u&s;eful in all conditions; in pro&s;perity a wi&s;e man will remember that he is in &s;lippery places, and therefore will look well to his &s;teps; in adver&s;ity, that he hath many temptations, and therefore mu&s;t be &s;erious and con&s;iderate. Let a wi&s;e man be ca&s;t into never &s;o much mire, and trampled upon, he &s;parkles like a diamond &s;till; nothing can deprive him of his worth and excellency. True it is, that wi&s;e men are not always rich, nor rich men are not always wi&s;e, yet the former may and &s;hall have the preheminency, riches and greatne&s;s being both &s;ubordinate to wi&s;dom:
<PB N="97" REF="52"> the poor wi&s;e man delivered the city, when the king could not do it by his honour, wealth, and &s;trength: Have we matters of high tru&s;t? none more fit to commit them to, then a wi&s;e man: In troubles he will &s;upport, in &s;traights he will direct, in mo&s;t perplexing bu&s;ine&s;s and puzling doubts he will advi&s;e when to be active, when to &s;it &s;till; none fit for &s;riend&s;hip but the&s;e: ma|ny there are that are faithful and affectionate, and would be very active, if they knew how, or in what method, but for want of wi&s;dom; They conclude all their good de&s;ires in a few empty wi&s;hes, which may &s;atisfy them&s;elves, but ne|ver &s;erve their friends: but wife men are mo&s;t u&s;eful, therefore much to be ambitioned: this is an indifpen&s;able quali<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">y for friend&s;hip which mu&s;t be endeavoured with all po&s;&s;ible care.</P>
<P>The Sixth qualification is faithfulne&s;&s;e: this is the cabinet that contains our mo&s;t precious jew|el, I mean the &s;ecrets of the heart): &s;ecrecy in a friend is the mo&s;t precious part of friend&s;hip, and that becau&s;e there is a&s;&s;igned to that part the highe&s;t tru&s;t imaginable; a defect here cannot be without the greate&s;t treachery conceivable; be|cau&s;e it makes a perfect divorce, and &s;trikes a|gain&s;t the very nature and e&s;&s;ence of friend&s;hip; <HI>Solomon</HI> ob&s;erved that a faithful man conceales the matter. There are many things between friends; that are in no ca&s;e fit to be revealed, nor cannot be done but with the greate&s;t treachery, becau&s;e thereby a man betrays the highe&s;t tru&s;t, which nothing can make a crime more unpardo|nable. The intercour&s;es between friends, can|not
<PB N="98" REF="53" MS="y"> be revealed without detriment, becau&s;e ex|pre&s;&s;ions of kindne&s;s (though innocent) may by an unfaithful repetition, prove prejudicial and &s;launderous. There are the&s;e things e&s;pecially in a faithful man, that challenges our re&s;pect and value, and renders him exceeding precious, Fir&s;t, he is true, you may tru&s;t him: he doth not wear like <HI>Jezabel,</HI> a painted out&s;ide; or like the gal|lants of our times, that hath the mo&s;t endeared expre&s;&s;ions in their mouthes, their voice is the voice of <HI>Jacob,</HI> but their hands the hands of <HI>E&s;au.</HI> And this is very much to be admired, e&s;pecially in per&s;ons of ingenuity, becau&s;e men naturally love truth, and value things according to truth, In&s;tance, a picture if it be never &s;o curiou&s;ly drawn, &s;hall obtain no reputation, if it do not re&s;emble the per&s;on it repre&s;ents. No wonder there is no more love in the world, men cannot tru&s;t one another, <HI>Joab</HI>-like they cry, my brother, and &s;mite deadly. Is not a faithful friend to be valued in &s;uch times as the&s;e; when there is a lye in the right hand of tho&s;e that in complement pretend the greate&s;t reallity, if I cannot believe a man, I cannot tru&s;t him, nor treat him without &s;u&s;picion, nor value him; nothing more de&s;tru|ctive to friend&s;hip, than fal&s;hood; nothing more obliging than faithfulne&s;s.</P>
<P>As a faithful man is true, &s;o he is hone&s;t and ju&s;t: he is a covenant-keeping man, as well as a covenant-making man; and this is con&s;iderable, becau&s;e in all friend&s;hips there mu&s;t be cove|nants: you &s;ee that between <HI>David</HI> and <HI>Jonathan</HI> the pattern of friend&s;hip: the covenant of God
<PB N="99" REF="53" MS="y"> was between them: it is called the covenant of God by way of eminency: for every thing in Scripture that hath the name of God annexed to it, as the city of God, or the mountain of God, or the temple of God, this &s;peaks the eminency of tho&s;e things. The covenant between friends is not a trivial thing, but weighty, and &s;eriou&s;ly to be heeded : we ought not to break promi&s;e with an enemy, God hath &s;everely fallen upon covenant breakers, and good men have been ve|ry con&s;ciencious in making good their cove|nants, as we may &s;ee in the ca&s;e of the <HI>Gibeo|nites, Jo&s;h. 9. 15. Jo&s;hua</HI> knew that they were de|ceivers, and that they had &s;ini&s;terly brought him into league with them, yet the league being made <HI>Jo&s;hua</HI> could be no way di&s;charged by any man|ner of prudence, piety or policy. Many men make<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> covenants, but few keeps them. Cove|nants are very binding to men of hone&s;t and ju&s;t principles <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 word"> bind the con&s;cience, as well as the reputation, a prudent man will not be brought into covenant, when he fore&s;ees a breach unavoi|dable; becau&s;e as a man cannot be wi&s;e, ra&s;hly to promi&s;e, &s;o he cannot be ju&s;t, if he doth not exactly keep <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 word"> There is nothing next to holy|ne&s;&s;e more valuable than ju&s;tice, next to believe and be &s;aved that golden rule takes place, <HI>do as you would be done unto.</HI> A man that is faithful can|not be bribed by profit, nor bia&s;&s;ed by plea&s;ure to prejudice hi<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> friend, he cannot be uncertain, you may know where to finde him: he is not a friend to day, and an enemy to morrow; as he never fixed without deliberation, &s;o he can never
<PB N="100" REF="54" MS="y"> alter without great provocation. The place where our trea&s;ure lyes mu&s;t be certain, or el&s;e the trea&s;ure cannot be &s;afe: none can pick this lock. A faithfull man will not only hate unfaithfulne&s;s in him&s;elf, but he will endea|vour to make others faithfull, with whom his friend is concerned: the concernments, as well as the per&s;on of his friend &s;o con&s;iderable to him; in all di&s;putable matters he will make the ca&s;e his own; he will never &s;ee his friend con|demned where he ought to be ju&s;tified: in all actions that concern him his help and a&s;&s;i&s;tance is never wanting: he will not &s;ay, am I my bro|thers keeper? but will be a wing to cover: a &s;uccour in the mo&s;t uncomfortable times: a faith|ful witne&s;s for him, and will have a due re&s;pect unto all his concerns.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="100-152" TYPE="pages">
<P>The Seventh qualification is humility: This is like oyl that makes the wheels of friend&s;hip go more &s;moothly: how amiable is humility? It not only &s;weetens the conver&s;ation of friends, but graces &amp; adorns them more than honour; be|fore honour is humility, &s;aith the wi&s;e man; hu|mility is acceptable both to God and man; God a&s;cribes wi&s;dom unto it, with the lowly is wi&s;|dom, and man gives him greate&s;t reverence and re&s;pect; an humble man is a &s;elf-denying man; he can heighten his friend and undervalue him&s;elf, he contentedly will decrea&s;e, that his friend may increa&s;e: how willingly will he throw of that applau&s;e from him&s;elf, he would court for his friend. Humility is a garment that becomes the greate&s;t prince in the world: An humble
<PB N="101" REF="54"> man &s;tudies not &s;o much his perfection, as his imperfections: he contentedly pa&s;&s;es under a cloud without any noi&s;e, and thinks him|&s;elf mo&s;t happy when lea&s;t ob&s;erved: can re|treat when there is no rea&s;on for it, but his humility: h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> readily and freely &s;ubmits rather than make a quarrel whoever doth the injury: he is always on the yielding &s;ide; I do not mean a ba&s;e &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion by this compliance, as a trans|ferring that crime, which is properly anothers to my &s;elf: this is the picking of a thorn out of another mans foot, and putting it into my own. Religion bids me &s;ubmit where there is cau&s;e, and rea&s;on tells me it is ba&s;ene&s;s and pu&s;illanimi|ty to do it where there is none. I ever abhorred an unworthy detraction and &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion, as being again&s;t my rea&s;on and con&s;cience: it appearing unto me as high a piece of hypocri&s;ie to condemn my &s;elf, where I am &s;ure I am innocent, as it would be pride to ju&s;tify my &s;elf where I know I am guilty; be&s;ides, hereby I put my &s;elf into a nece&s;&s;ity to beg that pardon from another, which otherwi&s;e he would have &s;een rea&s;on enough to have de&s;ired of me: &s;uch complements as the&s;e I could never fancy, nor rationally approve, be|cau&s;e I never &s;aw any other effect proceeding from that cau&s;e, but &s;hame and &s;corn, for men though never &s;o criminal would gladly be thought innocent, yet they will not not be at charge to de&s;erve it: nor will men willingly con&s;ult rea&s;on again&s;t them&s;elves; they will go thus far, and judge by the rule of contraries, if you are guilty, I mu&s;t be innocent, How irra|tional
<PB N="102" REF="55" MS="y"> is it, for a man to brand him&s;elf to plea&s;e another, thereby making him&s;elf liable to tho&s;e reflections that may one time or another prove more prejudiciall to his peace and credit, than any pre&s;ent advantage he could propound unto him&s;elf, in &s;o ba&s;e a piece of &s;elf-denyall: I ne|ver thought &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion the be&s;t way of reconciling quarrels among equals, but rather the mo&s;t effe|ctual way to augment and heighten them. I would yield very far before I would make a quarrel with them I love, but if there could be no pre|vention of a ju&s;t quarrel, I would not &s;ubmit; be|cau&s;e if I &s;ubmit, thereby I make my accu&s;er my judge in his own ca&s;e, and mu&s;t &s;tand to his mer|cy, and though he might reprieve and not con|demn me at pre&s;ent, yet &s;till I lie under the la&s;h of his judgment, whenever he plea&s;es to impo&s;e it; the fear of which would make me a perpetual &s;lave, and &s;till confirm his juri&s;diction over me, which I can never wre&s;t out of his hand, (having voluntarily inve&s;ted him with it) without ha|zarding a greater quarrel then before; and that becau&s;e by this act I put an undervalue up|on him, and think him not worthy of that place I had fir&s;t inve&s;ted him with by my own voluntary act; which he will now hardly part with, be|cau&s;e complyance and &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion is &s;o grateful to mo&s;t per&s;ons, that they having once obtained it, they will contend hard for it, rather than make a &s;urrender. The mo&s;t advi&s;able thing in this ca&s;e, is, to forget the quarrel, and time will wear off that animo&s;ity, and convince that the in|tere&s;t of friends is to make peace, rather then
<PB N="103" REF="55"> improve quarrels, and to be always &s;tudying that method that may effect this to a mutual content and the lea&s;t prejudice. But I return from this digre&s;&s;ion. In &s;hort, humility hath the&s;e things to commend it: an humble man will ea&s;ily admit of all manner of adre&s;&s;es; he is not lordly and &s;tate|ly, nor doth he &s;tand at &s;o great a di&s;tance, as a proud man doth: this is very in&s;inuating &amp; capti|vates the heart, by this means <HI>Ab&s;olon</HI> &s;tole the hearts of the men of <HI>I&s;rael</HI> again; an humble man cheerfully receives all complaints, and &s;e|riou&s;ly &s;tudies all manner of &s;atisfaction to the complainants, and willingly complyes to all ju&s;t and hand&s;om things.</P>
<P>The eighth qualification is re&s;olution; Neither time, place, nor per&s;on can make a true friend unfixed: time that wears every thing el&s;e, will rather beautify, &s;trengthen, and augment, then impair friend&s;hip, becau&s;e every day heapes up new endearments, by which it is made more com|pleat and confirmed. There is a tye upon friends that is like the marriage-knot, nothing but death can di&s;&s;olve; and indeed they have need to be re|&s;olved, el&s;e they will never &s;tand and fall toge|ther, which they mu&s;t do, if they are real: cou|rage in a friend is mo&s;t nece&s;&s;ary, e&s;pecially in time of imminent danger: a friend will not cow|ardly loo&s;e the life or reputation of his friend: he will hazard two in this ca&s;e, rather than loo&s;e one. <HI>Jonathan</HI> was a re&s;olved man, neither ho|nour, life, or any thing could make him unfaith|ful to <HI>David:</HI> every man is at his liberty before the friend&s;hip is made, but not afterward; there|fore
<PB N="104" REF="56"> mu&s;t be re&s;olved, There is no wi&s;dom in fir&s;t re&s;olving and then making inquiries: we mu&s;t con&s;ider the charge of friend&s;hip before we begin and be &s;atisfied in this, which is a great truth, that though friend&s;hip be mo&s;t de&s;ireable, yet it is not without trouble; no e&s;tate nor per&s;on with|out exception in this lower land; you will finde di&s;appointments entailed upon the be&s;t of per|&s;ons and things, which &s;hould quicken our diligence and care, and heighten our re&s;olutions; friends mu&s;t not be like bowls, that every &s;mall rub will put off their bya&s;s: they mu&s;t expect ma|ny apples of &s;trife to be thrown between them by the devil and men of dividing principles: both envying the beauty and comeline&s;&s;e of that &s;tate; friend&s;hip always attracts the eye: we &s;ee many gazing upon it, but not the heart, becau&s;e few under&s;tand it. They that have a near in&s;pe|ction into the excellency of this &s;tate have a high value for it, not &s;o much for its outward beauty, as inward excellency: and the&s;e greatly e&s;teem a true and faithful friend though they have not alwaies opportunity to obtain it, others are ut|terly uncapable of ever obtaining it, &amp; they hate the per&s;ons in whom they &s;ee a capacity for it, meerly for their friend&s;hip; like the fallen angels that kept not their fir&s;t e&s;tate, and therefore hates all tho&s;e, that are not plunged with them in the &s;ame unhappy e&s;tate. I have &s;een per&s;ons great|ly re&s;pected while they carryed it at a di&s;tance each to other, but afterwards when they have been ob&s;erved to unite in their affections, have been hated, vilified, &s;corned, and &s;candalized;
<PB N="105" REF="56"> &s;uch is the enmity there is in &s;ome per&s;ons to this relation: and this may procecd from one of the&s;e cau&s;es.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, Satan &s;eems to be concerned in this mat|ter: knowing that the improvement of rea&s;on and vertue mightily prepares the heart for grace, the young man in the Go&s;pel in re&s;pect of his morality was a great proficient, he is &s;aid by the be&s;t te&s;timony to be not farr from the kingdome of God. Men in friend&s;hip much im|prove, becau&s;e they are alwayes &s;tudying things grateful, comely, and acceptable, and in this united capacity, are not lyable to tho&s;e various temptations that men of contrary tempers are in&s;nared by, Satan perceiving this, &s;tudies all po&s;&s;ible means to imbitter this &s;tate, and as an ef|fectual means to reach that end, he &s;ets profane men at enmity again&s;t tho&s;e innocent per&s;ons; and the&s;e are not only enemies to the plea&s;ure and profit of friend&s;hip, but are at enmity with the per&s;ons, &amp; this proceeds from their ignorance as well as &s;atans malice; they under&s;tand nothing of what they cen&s;ure and revile, fondly con|ceiving, that every attainment they h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">e no part nor intere&s;t in, not worth the having; never con|&s;idering their own incapacity for it, who are &s;o turbulent in their humors, cro&s;&s;e in their quali|ties, that they can never arrive at &s;o much com|po&s;ednes, as will comport with this temper: nor is it altogether ignorance, but envy al&s;o will be concerned, which delights in nothing more than to &s;pot this innocent garment. I would never e&s;teem that friend that were not re&s;olved never
<PB N="106" REF="57"> to decline me upon any account what&s;oever. This was a great amplification of <HI>Jonathans</HI> love unto <HI>David,</HI> his re&s;olution never to de&s;ert him, rather running the hazard of his fathers di&s;plea|&s;ure, the lo&s;&s;e of his crown and kingdome, and which is more his precious life, then deal fal&s;ly in this covenant. I would take my friend, as a man takes his wife, for better for wor&s;e, and re&s;olve with <HI>Ruth,</HI> whither thou goe&s;t I will go; where thou lodge&s;t I will lodge, thy people &s;hall be my people, thy God &s;hall be my God, where thou dye&s;t, I will dye, and there will I be bu|ried: re&s;olution is the note and character of a true friend&s;hip, and lowdly &s;peaks it neither tottering nor un&s;ound. If <HI>Jonathan</HI> could have been corrupted in his love to <HI>David</HI> by any temptations, there was enough to do it; if threat|nings, accu&s;ations, or intreaties could have pre|vailed, it would have been done, as the hi&s;to|ry will inform us: but <HI>Jonathan</HI> could not fear the one, nor credit the other again&s;t his friend; nor is it every little &s;lip in friend&s;hip it &s;elf would do it: it mu&s;t be &s;ome capital crime that can ma<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 span"> &s;eparation; True it is that a man is not alwayes grateful to him&s;elf, and therefore cannot be &s;o to any other, at all times, &s;ometimes friend&s;hip comes gloriou&s;ly arrayed, othertimes is clothed in rags; &s;hall a man decline his friend, becau&s;e he doth not appear always &s;o &s;plendid as at other times, and &s;ay he is no friend? this is as irrational, as to &s;ay a man is no man, becau&s;e he hath not on his be&s;t clothes: there are many ac|cidents that may render a man le&s;&s;e plea&s;ing and
<PB N="107" REF="57"> acceptable at one time than another: the various tempers of body and minde doth make a great change: the&s;e mu&s;t be con&s;idered and allowed: little things will not &s;tick with a re&s;olved friend.</P>
<P>The ninth qualification is compa&s;&s;ion and ten|ne&s;s of heart: this is the cordial of frend&s;hip, and the hand that binds up the breaches in the heart, that which repairs the defects of nature and puts life into a dying per&s;on, this is that oyl that &s;weet|ly runs into the wounds of a perplexed heart and heals it, that hand that wipes tears from the eye, and takes the burthen from the heart: it was not the &s;malle&s;t part of <HI>Jobs</HI> mi&s;ery, that he had not compa&s;&s;ionate friends in his affli|ctions: <HI>In affliction</HI> (&s;aith he) <HI>pitty &s;hould be &s;hewed by a friend,</HI> but mi&s;erable comforters are you all. If there can be plea&s;ure in affli|ction this is it, that I have a concerned friend: every compa&s;&s;ionate friend is a man of bow|els; he is afflicted in all that his friend is af|flicted, and will as freely &s;hare with him in his &s;orrows, as in his comforts; this is matter of great lamentation in affliction that we have none to pitty us, the con&s;ideration of that doubles the mi&s;ery and adds weight to the burden, but this cannot be the ca&s;e of him that has a true friend: upon a &s;ick bed who makes the bed &s;o ea&s;ie, as a compa&s;&s;ionate friend? no &s;ociety &s;o plea&s;ant and diverting as he: in pain who is &s;o merciful? in penury who is &s;o bountiful? many will pa&s;&s;e by in &s;traights, as the prie&s;t and the Levite did by the poor traveller; but a friend will, like the good Samaritan, give oyl for his wounds, and
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<PB N="108" REF="59"> wine for his heart, he will put his &s;oul in his &s;ouls &s;tead, and do for him what he would de&s;ire for him&s;elf, were the pre&s;ent ca&s;e his own. Here the golden rule &s;hines brightly, do you as you would be done unto. This was the &s;ea&s;on <HI>Jona|than</HI> made u&s;e of to expre&s;s his bounty and com|pa&s;&s;ion unto <HI>David.</HI> There is nothing more ob|liging in frend&s;hip than compa&s;&s;ion: a fellow|feeling and &s;ympathy in our friend is very grate|ful, when like the two twins Hi&s;tory &s;peaks of, the&s;e &s;ociable companions laugh and weep toge|ther; the&s;e are like the &s;trings of a viol, touch one and the other trembles. As their &s;ufferings are mutual &s;o are their &s;atisfactions. A man is not &s;eldom more concerned for his friend then for him&s;elf. I have experienced this, who have &s;om|times born afflictions with &s;o much the more pa|ence and &s;atisfaction, becau&s;e it pa&s;&s;ed by my friend, and kindly took me: the rea&s;on is rea|dy, becau&s;e a great cro&s;&s;e upon the body is more ea&s;ily born, than that which is &s;maller upon the minde. It is with the minde as with the body, tho&s;e di&s;tempers that touch the vitals are more dangerous&punc; than them that are accompanied with more exqui&s;ite pains in the body; &s;o heart afflicti|ons are mo&s;t vexations: when my friend is under any affliction, my minde is troubled, and I feel that pain in my heart for him, that perhaps he feels far enough from his. I have been more a|mazed and affrighted at the &s;ufferings of my friends, than I could have been at the apprehen&s;i|on of my own death, and would willingly have purcha&s;ed life to them, by loo&s;ing my own.</P>
<PB N="109" REF="59">
<P>As compa&s;&s;ion is free, &s;o it is plea&s;ant: how cheerfully will a compa&s;&s;ionate man look upon his friend in di&s;tre&s;&s;e? not that he is not &s;orry for his affliction, but to &s;hew how plea&s;ed he is to help and a&s;&s;i&s;t him: <HI>God loves a cheerful giver,</HI> &s;o doth man. The a&s;pect of a man in giving and re|ceiving doth very often di&s;cover the heart of the giver; for men can hardly, hand&s;omly di&s;&s;emble it here: when favours come<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">&punc; from per&s;ons only moved by credit and relation, and not from love, how &s;lowly do they come, the chariot-wheels do move heavily then, but when they come from a compa&s;&s;ionate friend, they fly and come in&s;en&s;i|bly, nor is this all; compa&s;&s;ion goes farther, to acts of clemency al&s;o: that is a true friend, who can heartily forgive, and pa&s;&s;e by infirmities, without reflection: he will not make a quarrel upon every &s;light occa&s;ion, he is more proue to pitty then to reprove, he doth not &s;tudy excepti|ons but complyance: he will ever make the be&s;t interpretation po&s;&s;ible: and look over the mi|&s;takes of his friend with allowance, and where he finds a blot he will draw it fair again: he will treat him with all civility and tenderne&s;s, reprove kindly and &s;ea&s;onably, excluding all manner of har&s;hne&s;s, cloathing him&s;elf with all humility, gravity, and civility: and upon the di&s;covery of any error, if it be not very criminal, he will &s;ay as <HI>Eli</HI> did of his &s;ons, <HI>this is not a good report I hear of you, friend.</HI> Wi&s;dom as well as tender|ne&s;s is al&s;o nece&s;&s;ary in this ca&s;e: the well ma|nagement of a reproof is a very nice point, few under&s;tands it, and as few are acceptable and
<PB N="110" REF="60" MS="y"> &s;ucce&s;&s;eful in this regard. Amiablene&s;s in the countenance, &s;weetne&s;s in the expre&s;&s;ion are the be&s;t expedients, and &s;eems to be the mo&s;t effectu|al means, to convince without leaving the lea&s;t &s;car on the reputation, or di&s;quietne&s;s in the minde: few per&s;ons love a reprover, yet <HI>Solo|mon</HI> ob&s;erved, that men of wi&s;dom do, <HI>reprove a wi&s;e man and he will love thee.</HI></P>
<P>The tenth qualification, there mu&s;t be com|placency and delight as well as profit in a friend, a man takes more plea&s;ure in his friend, than in all the world be&s;ide: all other things are to him at a di&s;tance, and we know things remote give no great delight; the more united, the more plea&s;ure: the &s;un under a cloud is not &s;o de&s;ira|ble, becau&s;e it &s;tands at a greater di&s;tance to the vi&s;ive faculty, as when it &s;hines clearly without any interpo&s;ition. <HI>Solomon</HI> ob&s;erved, that <HI>it was a plea&s;ant thing for the eye to behold the &s;un,</HI> in its rayes, when nothing intervened between the fa|culty and the object: here are two things e&s;peci|ally to be con&s;idered in frend&s;hip in order to a compleat delight and complacency; that is, pro|portion and propriety: The&s;e &s;eems to be the <HI>ba&s;is</HI> upon which that fabrick &s;tands: proportion not only prepares for it, but greatly &s;upports it; and propriety conveys the plea&s;ure and &s;weet|ne&s;s of frend&s;hip to the re&s;pective per&s;ons, by multiplying endearments, and &s;uch expre&s;&s;ions which immediately proceed from a well-ground|ed affection: how plea&s;ant is a Romance tha<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> doth but feign frend&s;hip? and is not frendly comerce and communion that is reall more con&s;i|derable?
<PB N="111" REF="60" MS="y"> can a picture though never &s;o well drawn give the content the per&s;on can that it <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">epre&s;ents? we finde they oftner draw feares <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">rom our eyes then convey plea&s;ure to the heart, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ecau&s;e they oftentimes tell us, that our deare&s;t <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">riends are either lo&s;t, or at &s;o great a di&s;tance, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">hat we finde more rea&s;on to de&s;pair then hope, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">nd this fills our hearts with &s;ighs and cares: pro|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">riety in a friend is the &s;ure&s;t tye, and the grea|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">e&s;t obligation: certainly there is a &s;uperlative <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">atisfaction there, which appears not more in <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">he communion than in the heart-breaking <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">houghts and langui&s;hing de&s;ires in ca&s;e of ab|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ence: and this is mo&s;t evident by our longing &amp; <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ighing after that per&s;on we have happily fixed <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">oo much upon, ever to be contented without the <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">eal po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion and con&s;tant enjoyment of; yet &s;o unhappy becau&s;e of &s;ome cruel accident inter|vening, that we cannot enjoy the object; that there <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">s a tran&s;cendent content and plea&s;ure in the re|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ation and &s;tate of friend&s;hip, we cannot want arguments enough to prove, e&s;pecially this, be|cau&s;e we finde there, that which in the highe&s;t m<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">a&s;ure will gratifie both the rational and &s;en&s;i|tive appetite: and this is done when by arguing &amp; u&s;eful di&s;cour&s;es doubts are removed, &amp; fears <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ly away; how gladly do we welcome that per|&s;on that can inform us of tho&s;e things that are the cau&s;es or con&s;equences of our joys and griefs; rea&s;on will command reverence, and comes with that power and efficacy as is irre&s;i&s;table; pa&s;&s;ions may be reproved, but rea&s;on mu&s;t be honoured; to which per&s;ons that are not wholly bruti&s;h will
<PB N="112" REF="61"> ea&s;ily con&s;ent becau&s;e of the nature of it which is &s;ublime and excellent, and yet ea&s;y and ne|ce&s;&s;ary: there we finde &s;uch depths that the Ele|phant may &s;wim, &s;uch &s;holes that the lamb may wade; no greater plea&s;ure to the &s;en&s;es (which mu&s;t be &s;atisfied as well as rea&s;on) then the de|light of friend&s;hip, which is elivated by the plea|&s;antne&s;s of the per&s;on and the certainty of the intere&s;t that he hath in that per&s;on: <HI>David</HI> &s;aith of <HI>Jonathan,</HI> that <HI>his love pa&s;&s;ed the love of women:</HI> proprietie and intere&s;t rai&s;es the affections and compleats the felicity of this concern: the words of a frend drops like an hony-comb, much more is a &s;olid rea&s;on accepted, which is like mu&s;ick to the ear, light to the eye, and a cordi|al to the heart; &s;trips the per&s;on from his fears, and clothes him with &s;erenity and peace; I can never fully &s;peak the excellency of this concern: give me leave to call in the te&s;timony of tho&s;e that have fully enjoyed it at one time, but unhappily lo&s;t it at another: the&s;e can more pathetically &s;peak the excellency of that &s;tate; we never come &s;eriou&s;ly to prize things till after we have lo&s;t them; and in our mourning habit we are mo&s;t talkative about the pretiou&s;ne&s;s of that we can never recall: that which aggravates any lo&s;s, is the &s;peciality that is upon it: an only &s;on or an only friend, this is that which imbitters the cro&s;s; <HI>David</HI> &s;adly re&s;ented the death of <HI>Jonathan,</HI> it was a lo&s;s as cruel as death, <HI>Davids</HI> complaint for <HI>Ab&s;olon</HI> is the complaint of frinds when pro|vidence makes a finall &s;eparation, <HI>would to God I had died for thee, my friend, my friend:</HI> may we
<PB N="113" REF="61"> not go higher, and with truth affirm, it's like the rending of the &s;oul from the body, it is that one &s;troke which cuts the nerves and &s;inews of all our comforts, plea&s;ure and delight: the compla|cen&s;e of friend&s;hip is beyond the expre&s;&s;ion of the be&s;t rea&s;on; therefore I cannot aim at a perfect di&s;covery: <HI>I</HI> have given you my twilight appre|hen&s;ions of it; I proceed to the fourth thing which is the great end aimed at in the relation and &s;tate friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, the advantage and utility of friend&s;hip is fir&s;t in our eye, as I could never fancy any man who&s;e per&s;on was ungrateful, &s;o I could not love one who&s;e parts are not de&s;irable: I can love my friend for any worthy quality, and the more worthy the more he hath of my affections: per&s;ons may without cen&s;ure expect profit as well as plea&s;ure in tho&s;e things they dearly love, and this is neither mercinary nor unrea&s;onable, but mo&s;t commen&s;urate and equivalent to the greate&s;t end of friend&s;hip; their ends in that con|cern are the &s;ame that his was &s;poken of in the parable, that &s;old all to purcha&s;e the field in which the pearl was. It was not the &s;ield but the trea&s;ure he aimed at; &s;o a man doth not love any per&s;on barely for him&s;elf, but as the cabinet that contains the Jewel he values, he doth not love the Jewel becau&s;e of the cabinet, but the cabinet with the re&s;pect to the Jewel: we ratio|nally prize things, when we value them accor|ding to their u&s;efulne&s;s: we prize water, the &s;un, and bread, becau&s;e the&s;e are &s;o nece&s;&s;ary, that we cannot live without them; friend&s;hip in
<PB N="114" REF="62" MS="y"> &s;ome re&s;pect is as nece&s;&s;ary; as our nature can|not &s;ub&s;i&s;t without &s;trengthning and nouri&s;hment, no more as we are &s;ociable can we be happy with|out &s;ociety: <HI>David</HI> was fully &s;atisfied in <HI>Jona|than,</HI> not more for the plea&s;ure he had in his em|braces, as the benefit and profit of his coun&s;el, advice, and directions, as al&s;o his example, which might prove as great an advantage to <HI>Da|vid,</HI> if not greater than any of the re&s;t: without que&s;tion that faithfulne&s;s and humility of <HI>Jona|than</HI> was as exemplary to <HI>David,</HI> as his a&s;&s;i&s;tance, and friend&s;hip was de&s;ireable. A true and faith|ful friend is one of the riche&s;t talents God entru&s;|teth us with: a rich man takes much delight to contemplate his money that lies in &s;uch or &s;uch a place, it is his only trea&s;ure, <HI>and where the trea&s;ure is there the heart will be,</HI> a mans friend is his trea&s;ure, and as <HI>Solomon</HI> ob&s;erved, <HI>money an&s;|wers all things,</HI> that is to &s;ay, that money can reach, with as great truth we may &s;ay that an ingenious man an&s;wers all things that are nece&s;|&s;ary to a &s;ociable happine&s;s.</P>
<P>Secondly, Society is one of the greate&s;t ends of frend&s;hip, that alliance was fir&s;t contrived to promote &s;ociable happine&s;s; man is a &s;ociable creature, and there is nothing more equall and con&s;onant to his being and nature then &s;ociety, becau&s;e hereby he is mo&s;t capable of doing and receiving good in that method and manner which is mo&s;t &s;uitable to his rea&s;on and nature, as al&s;o his inclination which is generous and not merce|nary, he doth not wholly aim at him&s;elf; but that which amplifies the enjoyment is, that it is mu|tual,
<PB N="115" REF="62"> and can reach the content both of the &s;ub|ject and the object: an ingenious man would not have a friend that cannot benefit him, becau&s;e then he could not be u&s;eful, nor will he &s;o &s;pend and confine his affection, if he &s;ees a worthy per|&s;on till he knows his reward, or receives earne&s;t by &s;omething extraordinary: a true friend doth not &s;tudy how to inrich him&s;elf by his friends bounty, but how to better him&s;elf by his virtues, or el&s;e by generous acts and obligations: he is e|vermore making &s;uitable returns, nothing more contrary to vertuous per&s;ons then to level at low ends; mo&s;t ends are too low for love that noble affection, yet we cannot erre here, if our &s;cope and aim be at religious principles and rational accompli&s;hments, the la&s;t makes us happy as men, the fir&s;t as Chri&s;tians.</P>
<P>Thirdly, a mutual &s;atisfaction is aimed at in this relation of Frend&s;hip, and that beyond what can po&s;&s;ibly be obtained any where el&s;e: what relation is there that will &s;o far comply as a true friend? there is none bound to &s;tudy my humours but by my friend, who mu&s;t do it, or he can ne|ver deport him&s;elf for this relation: there are many paradoxes in frend&s;hip, but it is to them that are &s;trangers to the nature of this concern, the mi&s;teries of frend&s;hip are very deep, and can|not be fathomed by per&s;ons that are wholy &s;tran|gers and unacquainted with this concern: the &s;ociable delight and mutual &s;atisfaction between friends, though it be very well under&s;tood a|mong&s;t them&s;elves, is very intricate to tho&s;e at a di&s;tance, the conformity of friends are &s;peaking
<PB N="116" REF="63"> and acting alike, and &s;ubmitting the rea&s;on and will each to other: the&s;e are the hidden parts of frend&s;hip, and not vi&s;ible to every eye, the &s;amene&s;s and &s;imilitude that is between them is not apprehended by others, yet brings va&s;t con|tentment to the per&s;ons concerned, and exceed|ingly &s;trengthens and confirms the alliance: we love tho&s;e that are like our relations, much more tho&s;e that are like our &s;elves; how plea&s;antly can a father look upon his image in his &s;on? and the more &s;uitablene&s;s appears in their di&s;po&s;itions, the more rooted and grounded is their affection; we plainly &s;ee, there can be no frend&s;hip between per&s;ons of contrary tempers, but rather antipa|thies, that which we call prudence is not known among them; for if a man hates a per&s;on, he di&s;|likes all things that are about him; &s;o if he loves a per&s;on he approves of all things that concern him: when the will of friends are melted, and like lead run into the &s;ame mold, then this con|formity and the mutual &s;atisfaction of both per|&s;ons is attained: contrary tempers are like con|trary creatures, &s;till at variance: Pride and hu|mility, patience and pa&s;&s;ion, folly and ingenuity, pie<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">y and carnal policy, the&s;e can never con&s;i<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">t together; con<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">rarieties neither agree in whole nor in part; In &s;hort, this conformity is not only excellen<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">t &s;elf, but al&s;o in its concomitants, and t<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ey <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">re re&s;olution and contentedne&s;s with every thing, e&s;pecially that which cannot be di|vided but with a fundamental de&s;truction: To be &s;atisfied with the comfort of frend&s;hip without &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion to the cro&s;&s;es, is a foundation-errour,
<PB N="117" REF="63" MS="y"> and will occa&s;ion a breach irreparable; in our hu|mane &s;tate, natural defects that cannot be cured: the&s;e therefore mu&s;t not be reflected on in a way of di&s;content; to reprove or impo&s;e an im|po&s;&s;ibility is alike irrational; it's mo&s;t unrea&s;ona|ble to di&s;pute impo&s;&s;ibilities, and unkinde to make grating reflections, becau&s;e they &s;till turn to &s;corn and &s;candal, if they be publick, and to di&s;content and trouble, though they be never &s;o private: I can look upon the natural defects of my friends with more plea&s;ure then the perfecti|ons of another, becau&s;e they are parts of what I dearly love, and &s;o much of him&s;elf that they cannot po&s;&s;ibly be divided, otherwi&s;e I would &s;ooner take part of them my &s;elf then di&s;like them in him: In the fir&s;t choice I had my freedom, &amp; might have declined the whole if I could not be reconciled to every part, but now I cannot make exceptions but at this hazard, the lo&s;s of my friend, or at the lea&s;t a per&s;wa&s;ion in him that I cannot love him &s;o intirely as I ought, and the relation ju&s;tly challenges: Beauty is not much in frend&s;hip, a &s;ociable and amicable di&s;po&s;i|tion is much more nece&s;&s;ary, if this be wan|ting, it is not like &s;ome natural defects in the body that art can mend, nothing can &s;upply; all the art of rea&s;on and religion together cannot do it; we &s;ee this in angry <HI>Jonas,</HI> whom God could not plea&s;e, he thought he did well to be angry with God him&s;elf. I have &s;ometimes taken much plea&s;ure in contemplating the &s;atisfaction I have ob&s;erved among friends, how &s;tudious they have been to plea&s;e each other? how ready
<PB N="118" REF="64"> to &s;erve? how impatient of any interruption to their &s;ocial delights? how un&s;atisfied if they could not in all re&s;pects reach a mutual con|tent? If to have the greate&s;t contrivance, how to promote our intere&s;t in the world in re&s;pect of credit, e&s;tate, or life, be a &s;atisfaction, friend|&s;hip is that. If the greate&s;t love, the highe&s;t va|lue, the &s;weete&s;t embraces, the mo&s;t con&s;tant and plea&s;ing communion, care, love, goodne&s;s, faithfulne&s;s, bounty, ready &s;ervice be de&s;irable, then friend&s;hip is mo&s;t incomparable. How ea&s;y &s;uffering, how plea&s;ant &s;ervice, and how incon|&s;iderable do life appear, where mutual &s;atisfa|faction is in view; where a man would otherwi&s;e indulge him&s;elf and &s;it down and con&s;ider the ex|pence of a chargeable and painful undertaking before he will venture upon it; it is very ob&s;erva|ble where mutual &s;atisfaction is aimed at, e&s;pe|cially in great enterpri&s;es and high undertakings, let the conclu&s;ion be never &s;o good, if death or any cruel accident have divided the friends, the contents is not half what it would have been, had it been mutual: the end aimed at was the &s;atisfa|ction of both, which being ardently de&s;ired, but really lo&s;t, is con&s;tantly lamented, and in&s;tead of a gainful po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion there remains nothing but a melancholy diver&s;ion; this con&s;tantly torments the minde, which if unquiet will imbitter the &s;weete&s;t enjoyments, <HI>David</HI> could not receive the news of victory with any &s;atisfaction, becau&s;e <HI>Ab&s;olon</HI> was &s;lain, who probably he intended rather to reduce then de&s;troy: promi&s;ing him&s;elf a mutual benefit by that victory, how eager are
<PB N="119" REF="64" MS="y"> friends to promote the plea&s;ure one of another? they remove all impediments and &s;tudy all expe|dients to that effect. He is no friend that hath not experienced this, that upon any offence g<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ven as occa&s;ioned by him he finds as much trouble in his own heart, as can po&s;&s;ibly po&s;&s;e&s;s the heart of his friend: grief and anger pre&s;ently employ|ed; the fir&s;t that any occa&s;ion &s;hould be given, or taken to di&s;compo&s;e his friend; the la&s;t, that he &s;hould do any thing to procure it together with thoughts and cares how this breach may be made up again; It is probable every method will not do it. I would bear with any thing rather than con&s;ent to a quarrel with a per&s;on I dearly loved, but if offences were cau&s;ele&s;ly taken, I would think it more prudence to di&s;pute it than &s;ubmit. If I &s;ubmit I am not only beholding for a pardon, but confe&s;s the crime, and become my own judge to condemn my &s;elf. I have ob&s;erved, let the &s;ub|mi&s;&s;ion be never &s;o ingenious, if the fault be thought great, it will prove but the skinning o|ver the wound, and upon a more muture con&s;ide|ration &s;eem but a &s;mall &s;atisfaction. If credit and reputation are concerned in the quarrels and un|avoidably &s;ow the &s;eed of &s;u&s;pition in the heart; to prevent this, deliberation &s;eems mo&s;t advi&s;e|able, in which time the pre&s;ent pa&s;&s;ion and ani|mo&s;ity may wear of, and rea&s;on may be heard on both &s;ides, and they may be inclined, rather to lo&s;e &s;omething of their own right, then ap|pear exact or punctual, the law of friend&s;hip ab|&s;olutely forbidding all &s;uch exactne&s;s. I would make any interpretation &s;erve, rather than en|danger
<PB N="118" REF="65">
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<PB N="120" REF="66" MS="y"> a fundamental difference, becau&s;e I ne|ver yet could be convinced by the ob&s;ervations that I yet could make, that a fundamental breach could be repaired. I mean by this, that which &s;trikes again&s;t the nature &amp; e&s;&s;ence of friend&s;hip. In&s;tance, as the revealing of a &s;ecret, a treache|rous blow, revilings, by which my reputation may be impaired for ever: if &s;uch as the&s;e occa|&s;ion a breach, it is like that of a venice gla&s;&s;e that can never piece again; art may mend it, but no|thing can cement and repair it: there may be rea|&s;onings pro and con, and the be&s;t argument may carry it for the pre&s;ent, but there cannot be a dif|ference occa&s;ioned by any wilful di&s;obligation in any ca&s;e allowed it being a crime unpardonable, and that which I would never ask forgivene&s;s of; nor could I be &s;atisfied in any friend&s;hip I fore|&s;aw any thing could intervene de&s;tructive to it. I could never love one, I thought, I could po&s;&s;i|bly be induced to hate: &s;uch a thought would prove a grief, that would drown my comfort, and fill my heart with tho&s;e doubts that never could admit of &s;atisfaction. I come now to the fifth thing premi&s;ed, <HI>viz.</HI> the plea&s;ure and de|light the ways and friend&s;hip is &s;trewed with. Here are many flagrant flowers, we &s;hall gather them as we go.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t fragrant flower is this; a man hath &s;omething &s;ecure in the mo&s;t uncertain times, and that is no &s;mall advantage: you know fortune is very uncertain; the wheel is up to day and down to morrow, and what more common, than to &s;ee men valued or undervalued according to
<PB N="121" REF="66"> their pre&s;ent &s;tate, in relation to outward things? all admire tho&s;e that are uppermo&s;t, trampling upon every thing beneath them, looking more at the outward varni&s;h, then the inward lu&s;tre; pain|ted &s;cpulchres make a gaudy &s;hew, yet have no real plea&s;ure in them, becau&s;e though they are fair to the eye, they are filled with nothing but rottenne&s;s and corruption. Mo&s;t per&s;ons look at the &s;uperficial part of a man, wholly judging ac|cording to &s;en&s;e without the lea&s;t appeal to rea&s;on, which ought to be fir&s;t &s;atisfied in every doubtful ca&s;e, el&s;e we may be bya&s;&s;ed, and be|ing in the dark mi&s;take things to our prejudice. I have read a &s;tory of a traveller, that came to a painter in a kinde of di&s;gui&s;e, and de&s;ired to be imployed, being of the &s;ame profe&s;&s;ion, and though a great arti&s;t very meanly accoutred, the painter received him, and treated him according to the meanne&s;s of his pre&s;ent capacity; bread and chee&s;e was his fare, which this arti&s;t thought a diet too cour&s;e for his fine art; he pre&s;ently paints his mean food mo&s;t exqui&s;itely, and goes his way, leaving his new ma&s;ter to lament his ignorance and prejudice in loo&s;ing &s;o gainful a fervant, which was aggravated by the circum|&s;tances that attended it; the ma&s;ter returning mi&s;&s;ed his &s;ervant, but found his breakfa&s;t (as he &s;uppo&s;ed,) and though he were an arti&s;t, he in|geniou&s;ly confe&s;&s;ed, that the repre&s;entation &s;ee|med as real to his &s;en&s;es, as the true food did to his rea&s;on. The hidden parts of friend&s;hip are not vi&s;ible to all the world, per&s;ons in the relation doth not like money carry their value in their fa|ces,
<PB N="122" REF="67"> yet they are not without true worth, a man can prize his friend in rags as well as in robes. <HI>Jonathan</HI> would rather &s;trip him&s;elf for <HI>David</HI> than de&s;pi&s;e him, for want of robes he did not a|bate his affection to <HI>David</HI> though he was thrown out of all his honour and &s;plendour he had in <HI>Sauls</HI> court, and was hunted up and down as a pattridge upon the mountains; in pro&s;perity a man will be pre&s;ent with his friend, and con&s;ult him how to manage that e&s;tate with humility and general content; times of pro&s;perity requires the help of a friend as much as adver&s;ity. The rich hath many friends, few frue friends. It is much harder to manage a great e&s;tate, than that which is meaner. Men of great e&s;tates have com|monly greater hearts, and that is the rea&s;on they have no more content; in the mid&s;t of their &s;uffi|ciencies, they are in &s;traights: they have many flatterers, few real friends, as <HI>Rehoboam</HI> had: many that are at their table, that eat their bread, in&s;inuate into their &s;ecrets, and yet lift up their heel again&s;t them. <HI>Davids</HI> table was not without the&s;e, many a good natured man is ruined for want of a faithful friend; we finde that while <HI>Iehojada</HI> lived, <HI>Ioas</HI> did well, he was a faithful friend, but when he died, <HI>Ioas</HI> was &s;oon ruined and undone.</P>
<P>A faithful man is &s;ure in all times, and upon all occa&s;ions. Many accidents may rob a man of his e&s;tate, nothing but death can take away his friend. A man can &s;uffer the lo&s;&s;e of all carthly comforts, and not think him&s;elf quite undone, &s;o long as he hath his friend, which may prove
<PB N="123" REF="67"> &s;trength in weakne&s;s, plea&s;ure in perplexity, trea&s;ure in poverty, a &s;ympathizer with him in all conditions, and will be with him in all places, nothing but death &s;hall be able to make a final &s;eparation; he will &s;tick at nothing; ingenuity is noble and generous; neither pri&s;on nor penury &s;hall frighten him: the&s;e are the &s;ea&s;ons which he rather courts than fears, becau&s;e he can here be&s;t evidence his immutability.</P>
<P>Secondly, the &s;econd flower we &s;hall gather in this way of friend&s;hip, is a &s;upport in the mo&s;t dreadful afflictions; in pro&s;perity help is near, in adver&s;ity it &s;tands at a di&s;tance: the rich have many friends, but the poor is hated of his neigh|bour: how &s;ea&s;onable is &s;upport in time of extre|mity; at &s;uch a time we value kindne&s;s at a high rate, that being the proper &s;ea&s;on for it, becau&s;e we try our friends then whether they will a&s;&s;i&s;t, when others will not or cannot: there are no &s;ea|&s;ons &s;o proper and convenient for this purpo&s;e as times of great &s;traits &amp; extremites, when may be the condition of a man mu&s;t not be known by his deare&s;t relations, nor can be but at a hazard of his life or credit: &s;uch was <HI>Davids</HI> ca&s;e, when he fled from <HI>Saul;</HI> and &s;uch is many a mans ca&s;e: in&s;tance, in time of great lo&s;&s;es and other calami|ties, yet a friend mu&s;t acquaint him&s;elf with the&s;e puzling affairs, el&s;e he cannot di&s;charge the du|ty and obligation he lies under: he is bound not to de&s;ert his friend, and re&s;olves with <HI>Peter</HI> con|cerning his ma&s;ter; though all for&s;ake, he will never for&s;ake him. I would be more diligent to enquire after the nece&s;&s;ities of my friend, than
<PB N="124" REF="68" MS="y"> after any other thing that concern him, not that I love trouble and &s;orrow, but I love my friend, and cannot decline that which is in&s;eparable from him; and if I cannot enjoy him no where el&s;e, but in the furnace of affliction, I &s;hould not think that too hot, a pri&s;on would be &s;weeter to me were he pre&s;ent than a palace without him, be|cau&s;e I accept &s;ufferings more heartily with him then plea&s;ure without him, and this is no <HI>paradox,</HI> If the &s;erenity of the minde be beyond the ea&s;e of the body, and rea&s;on more to be indulged then &s;en&s;e: it's true prudence may facilitate troubles if the heart be calm, but nothing can do it if that be unquiet; the heart knows his own bitterne&s;s, no per&s;on el&s;e can, except a friend, becau&s;e hearts are united in friend&s;hip, and there is a &s;ympathy; I will &s;tudy all methods to &s;upport &amp; &s;upply my friend, and when I could do it no lon|ger, I would voluntarily &s;uffer with him rather than for&s;ake him: love that warm affection maks adver&s;ity ea&s;y, at lea&s;t not &s;o intollerable.</P>
<P>The third flower we gather in the way of frend|&s;hip, is a coun&s;ellor in doubts. Many &s;cruples doth a&s;&s;ail and perplex the heart of a man which in credit and con&s;cience he dares not reveal to &s;trangers. This hath proved the ruine of many a man, and hath betrayed them into many &s;ad temptations, as murther, rapine, and all manner of cruelty, not only again&s;t their neare&s;t relations, but again&s;t their deare&s;t lifes, occa&s;ioned either through melancholy, inprudence, ra&s;hne&s;s, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> the&s;e might have been prevented by a judici|ous frend, by whom they might have been awed,
<PB N="125" REF="68"> con&s;elled, and prevailed with to avoid tho&s;e ways and methods that lead to &s;uch extremities, and by whom their &s;cruples might have received a rea|dy and &s;atisfactory re&s;olution, who&s;e tenderne&s;s would have invited him to u&s;e all per&s;wa&s;ive and pacifying arguments. I have &s;een direful effects my &s;elf ari&s;ing from &s;uch cau&s;es, how happy had &s;ome been of my near acquaintance, had they had a faithful friend to have divided their cares, and untye tho&s;e knots, melancholy was dayly tying to their de&s;truction: how ea&s;ily might tho&s;e webs that &s;eemed intricate to them &s;pun by the policy of Satan, and cruel melan+choly (that irrational and black companion) have been unravelled, before they could have at|tained tho&s;e dreadful ends that have been the con|&s;equences of them, you know that a man &s;udden|ly unravels that which hath been the work of time: a few well &s;tated arguments hath and may through the ble&s;&s;ing of God beat down the batte|ries, that the devil makes again&s;t the precious life of man, as mental di&s;contents are mo&s;t dange|rous: &s;o &s;ecrecy in this regard is mo&s;t pernici|ous, becau&s;e the greate&s;t policy the devil hath, is to keep this fire within a mans heart: there he kindles a &s;park which &s;oon blazes to de&s;truction, e&s;pecially when melancholy blowes the &s;park; the more &s;ecret fire is, the more dangerous; a &s;park may ea&s;ily be put out before it comes to a flame, but after it may be impo&s;&s;ible: no bodily affliction like heart-trouble, yet the&s;e are not to be &s;lighted. <HI>Iob</HI> and <HI>Lazarus,</HI> and many men un|der di&s;tracting pains, as the gout and <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters">one, and
<PB N="126" REF="69"> other violent di&s;tempers, hath found friends very nece&s;&s;ary, when by a gentle hand their wounds dre&s;&s;ed, their bodies &s;upported, when by hu|mouring and content they receive that plea&s;ure, that is not only u&s;eful, but exceedingly nece&s;&s;ary in &s;uch extremities.</P>
<P>The fourth fragrant flower we find in frend|&s;hip is a companion in &s;olitary and &s;ad times, &s;o|ciety being never more plea&s;ing then in &s;olitari|ne&s;s. I do not mean by &s;olitarine&s;s, that retired|ne&s;s appointed for &s;pecial duty, and &s;erious contemplation; but &s;uch as is the con&s;equence of &s;ome cruel confinement, whereby we are deny|ed tho&s;e innocent recreations and harmle&s;s diver|&s;ions, which would repair nature, that is often tired in conflicting with tho&s;e di&s;tractions and cares that con&s;tantly attend &s;uch a pri&s;on-&s;tate, were the heart always upon the wing and fit for divine contemplation, a cave that dark habitati|on might be as <HI>Go&s;hen,</HI> a land of light: other|wi&s;e it is hard to improve &s;olitarine&s;s to any ad|vantage: as I would with much content enjoy my thoughts, and di&s;cour&s;e with my &s;elf &s;ome|times, &s;o I would as gladly at other times &s;peak my joyes, and &s;ad apprehen&s;ions of things to my friend, by which I &s;hall double the fir&s;t, and may dimini&s;h the la&s;t; be&s;ides I &s;hall have this advantage, if I &s;peak my thoughts I &s;hall &s;ee what they are by their dre&s;&s;e, whether trivial or weighty. I cannot always improve my rea&s;on a|lone, or be &s;o taken with my own conceptions and apprehen&s;ion of things as to believe them without exception or pa&s;&s;ible, unle&s;s confirmed
<PB N="127" REF="69"> by tho&s;e who are more judicious, or at lea&s;t more indifferent, then I can be in matters that &s;o nearly concern me, arguments debated between two or more &s;eems to be more clear, becau&s;e they have a greater te&s;timony, than when there is not that advantage: a &s;ingle te&s;timony will not be accepted in civil things: men can hardly per|&s;wade &s;ingly in a matter of importance: we &s;ee our lawyers and doctors though never &s;o learned are hardly creditted except they refer to Au|thors: nor are we without a divine te&s;timony in this ca&s;e, as the Scriptures, which declare<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> that in the mouth of two or three witne&s;&s;es every thing &s;hall be e&s;tabli&s;hed; the great conceit that &s;ome men have had of their private notions, which may be, have &s;o tickled and plea&s;ed them that they have &s;ate down highly &s;atisfied with the validity of them, hath been that which hath proved their greate&s;t prejudice, and often pro|ved a delu&s;ion, that pride hath flattered them in|to making that appear great to them&s;elves that looks throw a multiplying-gla&s;s which doubles the &s;pecies, when indeed if it be rightly con&s;ide|red by an impartial rea&s;on and looked upon by a &s;ingle eye will appear little, and if rightly argu|ed and di&s;cour&s;ed by a &s;econd per&s;on, who can impartially weigh both &s;ub&s;tance and circum|&s;tance, will merit rather &s;hame and conviction, than reputation and &s;atisfaction. I cannot refre&s;h my &s;elf with any lawful recreation without a companion, which will &s;weeten my melancholy walks and &s;horten the long nights; my meat will not reli&s;h well&punc; nor my &s;leep refre&s;h and com|po&s;e
<PB N="128" REF="70"> me without a &s;ociable companion: my walks will beweari&s;ome, my work will be tedi|ous, my time will be long, my opportunity of doing and receiving good very &s;hort: I can nei|ther manage my general nor particular calling with profit and advantage: I fancy I &s;hall live without being de&s;ired, and dye without being la|mented.</P>
<P>The fifth flower is a &s;upply in the mo&s;t unchari|table times: this mu&s;t come in as a principal part of frend&s;hip, which is ever generous and free: a man will deny him&s;elf &s;ooner than his friend, and think it the be&s;t policy, becau&s;e his content is more than his money, which he can never enjoy, while he &s;ees his friend in want, how &s;peedily will help come? our Saviour ob|&s;erved this, (&s;aith he) if a man come at midnight to his friend, he will ari&s;e in all ha&s;t to give him what he needs. Men are not at liberty to give, or not to give: So &s;oon as the frend&s;hip is made, we pre&s;ently come under an obligation, and may as well deny all other acts of friend&s;hip, as that, I would be a&s;hamed to own that friend, that &s;hould not &s;hare in my e&s;tate, or enjoy any thing in plenty while he is in penury, he that can keep his money, can keep his heart, and therefore not fit to be confided in. I have &s;ometimes thought the love of money hath been the cau&s;e why there is &s;o little frend&s;hip among&s;t men: many have bid fair for frend&s;hip but could never obtain it, becau&s;e the cares of the world, and the deceitful|ne&s;s of riches have &s;o incumbred the heart, that no place could be found for &s;uch an intertain|ment.
<PB N="129" REF="70"> If your friend be right, there is no doubt of any thing within his power, he will rob him|&s;elf rather than decline you, and will without di|&s;pute make his e&s;tate if you need it more yours than his own.</P>
<P>The &s;ixth flower in this way is, the protection and &s;afety we have in a true friend: he will ven|ture with us and for us; you need not want a protector if the &s;trength of your friend can do it: he will accompany you in danger, and bring you out of it, if po&s;&s;ible, though he lo&s;e his life in the &s;ervice; he will pre&s;erve your credit and think no act &s;o honourable as to lo&s;e his life for a generous friend. Many in&s;tances we have of this in hi&s;tory: a coward is too ba&s;e for frend|&s;hip: I would not lead my friend unto danger, nor would I impo&s;e any tru&s;t in him that &s;hould leave me there: If any thing can &s;eparate friends, they bare only the name, never knew the nature of frend&s;hip: it is a mi&s;tery &s;till, &s;uch knowledg is too excellent for them, they cannot attain it: It is heroick and noble to prefer the life of my friend before my own, though I am as good as he; and hereby I &s;hew my humility as well as frend&s;hip, and &s;o add excellency to the action, becau&s;e humility and charity puts a value upon things, that otherwi&s;e would be equal: we are bound to dye in &s;ome &s;en&s;e for all Chri&s;tians, and therefore more obliged to do &s;o for a Chri&s;ti|an friend, who is to us in this &s;tate of imper|fection, the mo&s;t perfect injoyment, and that which &s;uppo&s;eth and includeth all things els that may render us happy.</P>
<PB N="130" REF="71">
<P>The &s;eventh and la&s;t flower this way of frend|&s;hip is &s;trowed with, (to name no more be|cau&s;e I ha&s;ten) is this: we have a friend, that will be with us in life, and for us when we are dead. This is a flower of the greate&s;t fragrancy, you need not di&s;compo&s;e your minde about your children, what &s;hall become of them when you are gone, in re&s;pect of care and provi&s;ion, &s;ince you have left half your &s;elf behind: with how much &s;atisfaction doth a man or woman die, be|yond others, that hath a faithful friend, their cares are not about their children, they have left them in a &s;afe hand, they neither fear cheats nor wrongs or any unkindne&s;s that can be avoided by the in&s;pection, care, and prudence of a faithful friend. <HI>David</HI> had a re&s;pect to the &s;on of <HI>Jonathan</HI> &amp; &s;et him at his own table. Duration is that which heightens the value of any thing, things of &s;hort continuance are not much de&s;ira|ble; though they are &s;ometimes plea&s;ant, they are not &s;o profitable: would you leave a preci|ous Jewel to po&s;teriry when you are gone, make &s;ure of a true friend? would you live when you are dead? would you have a name that &s;hould never be blotted out? would you have your ends accompli&s;hed concerning your near and dear re|lations? a true friend is mo&s;t likely to effect the&s;e ends, who will extend your vertues, bury all your imperfections, and ingrave that prai&s;e and honour upon your tomb, that &s;hall not be ra&s;ed for ever. po&s;terity are con&s;iderable, chil|dren lye near the hearts of parents; yet notwith|&s;tanding the&s;e, nor any thing el&s;e to an ingeni|ous
<PB N="131" REF="71" MS="y"> man is &s;o precious next to his &s;oul, as repu|tation whereby he blo&s;&s;omes in the du&s;t, and is had in everla&s;ting remembrance. we come now to the &s;ixth thing promi&s;ed; namely, how to go|vern our &s;elves in the &s;tate of frend&s;hip in order to the pre&s;erving of it: and we mu&s;t wi&s;ely ponder &s;uch things as the&s;e, and &s;incerely practice them, as tho&s;e that are mo&s;t grateful.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, &s;et a value upon your friend above any earthly thing: you mu&s;t love him as you love your &s;elf: think him worthy of the be&s;t affecti|ons, and he mu&s;t have it without re&s;ervation, or exception: think no &s;ervice too hard, no &s;uffe|rings too much: make him equal to your &s;elf in your care and thought: let nothing in the world &s;tand in oppo&s;ition to him, or in competition with him, there are 4. things that rai&s;es our value and e&s;teem; intrin&s;ecal worth: u&s;efulne&s;s: pro|priety: and a real affection: he mu&s;t be worthy, el&s;e not capable of frend&s;hip, (as hath been alrea|dy &s;hewed:) we have &s;een the qualifications, which &s;peaks him eminently u&s;eful: this worth being attended with benefit, our propriety in all which makes him incomparably al&s;o de&s;ireable, and if real affection be added, that will challenge our highe&s;t e&s;teem and value.</P>
<P>Secondly, be not har&s;h in your reproofs: no friend is &s;o perfect but may need it: but do it tenderly in the &s;pirit of meekne&s;s. Saith <HI>David,</HI> if the righteous reprove me, it &s;hall be baulm that &s;hall not break my head: he doth not &s;ay, it &s;hall not break my heart, by a &s;unlike thaw, but it &s;hall not break my brain (was his mean|ing,)
<PB N="132" REF="72"> by di&s;tracting and perplexing thoughts, and It is more proper for reproof to break the heart then the head: that heing the genuine end aimed at among friends: but here we mu&s;t be wi&s;e: di&s;cretion is very nece&s;&s;ary in a matter &s;o difficult as the well regulating of reproof, there are &s;e|veral methods of reproof, and you mu&s;t &s;eriou&s;|ly &s;tudy which of them will &s;uit the pre&s;ent occa|&s;ion, in this lies the excellency of a wi&s;e reprover: &s;ometimes words and arguments will do be&s;t, and are mo&s;t expedient: and the&s;e &s;eem mo&s;t proper for men of patience and rea&s;on, who will attend and weigh things, in the ballance of a rectified judgement. <HI>Solomon</HI> &s;peaks of the&s;e when he &s;aith, Reprove a wi&s;e man and he will love thee. A wi&s;e man loves the reproof when it is well managed and &s;ea&s;onably applyed. Some|times a look is &s;ufficient to reprove, our Saviour did but look upon <HI>Peter,</HI> and this work was done. Sometimes the contrary example will do much. La&s;tly to reprove in the per&s;on of another, &s;eems the mo&s;t &s;ucce&s;&s;eful way of reproving, becau&s;e by this without any noi&s;e; or ungrateful reflecti|on, you will &s;eriou&s;ly and &s;everely enough re|prove. Thus <HI>David</HI> was reproved by <HI>Nathan</HI> the prophet: by this means a man is brought &s;ecret|ly to condemn him&s;elf, and &s;ave you the labour; never ca&s;t any di&s;grace upon reputation, that is a tender thing, a man would take it as kindly you &s;hould touch his life as his credit: then be &s;ure what you tax him with be true: never go upon fancy and &s;uppo&s;itions, this will &s;peak you ra&s;h, and it will grieve your friend extreamly to be
<PB N="133" REF="72" MS="y"> cau&s;ele&s;ly impeached by you who is bound by all manner of obligation to make the mo&s;t favoura|ble con&s;truction: charity as well as frend&s;hip en|joyns you, never to make an evil interpretation, where you can po&s;&s;ibly make a good one: when|ever you are tempted to make exceptions, &s;u&s;|pect your &s;elf, may be you take offence where none is given: look into your heart, and &s;ee that you are free from pride &amp; pa&s;&s;ion, pride will rai&s;e a &s;torm in the &s;erene&s;t temper, pa&s;&s;ion will ca&s;t a mi&s;t upon the cleare&s;t under&s;tanding; be&s;ides you prejudice your &s;elf if you are not deliberate and careful, how aba&s;hed is a man when he hath reproved ra&s;hly? with how much &s;hame is he forced to detract and &s;ubmit, and in&s;tead of a Judge, as he was in the &s;eat of reproof, now be|comes a &s;uppliant, where he is not always &s;ucce&s;|ful, may be the injury was &s;o great that bare &s;ub|mi&s;&s;ion would not do it; there mu&s;t be &s;atisfacti|on: the fir&s;t is &s;hameful, the la&s;t chargable; and this, becau&s;e the offence may be aggravated by circum&s;tances which will admit of no repair, the&s;e might ea&s;ily have been prevented at the fir&s;t by a &s;olid and religious deliberation: in all things &s;udden and unexpected we &s;hould fu&s;|pend judgment till rea&s;on be fully &s;atisfied: we every day experience this, that what we madly re&s;olve with <HI>Jonas,</HI> we &s;oberly repent with <HI>E&s;au.</HI></P>
<P>Thirdly, whatever you apprehend ungrate|ful in your friend, never reprove at a di&s;tance, or by proxy, much prejudice may be conveyed this way, I mean by the&s;e me&s;&s;ages or written quarrels. The&s;e are very dangerous and &s;hake
<PB N="134" REF="73"> the foundation of frend&s;hip: In&s;tance,</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, hereby you impeach your friend, and article again&s;t him, and that you cannot do with|out di&s;obliging words, which if by any accident made publick, they may admit of diver&s;e inter|pretations; which interpretations will be accor|ding to the fancies of tho&s;e per&s;ons into who&s;e hands they may unfortunately come, and from hence may ari&s;e this prejudice; the hazard or lo&s;s of a reputation; you will afterwards but in vain &s;adly lament: many &s;hoot here in ju&s;t, but kill in earne&s;t: Reputation is not to be dallied with, becau&s;e if it be once lo&s;t, it is like ye&s;ter|day, that will never come again.</P>
<P>Again, you can hardly avoid the revealing of &s;ome &s;ecret, pa&s;&s;ion is a meer blab, &amp; &s;o incon&s;ide|rate that it will never make any reflections back|ward nor forward, as to think, what rea&s;on have I for it? or what prejudice may come by it? the di&s;clo&s;ing of a &s;ecret is always di&s;obliging, and not to be excu&s;ed, though it be accidentally, not intentionally done. That is a thing that may not be left to hazard: it is like the defiling of the mar|riage-bed, and of all crimes in frend&s;hip the mo&s;t unpardonable, becau&s;e be&s;ides much other pre|judice, it blots and defaces your evidences and a&s;&s;urance of the affection of your friend; whom you have &s;o ju&s;tly incen&s;ed, that much time may pa&s;&s;e over before a right under&s;tanding will be fixed between you again, if ever: I &s;aw a frend|&s;hip broken by this, that it never peeced again. Nor is it without this inconvenience always at|tending it, that I do not only &s;peak unadvi&s;edly
<PB N="135" REF="73"> at the pre&s;ent, but leave it upon record, and that may be again&s;t me for ever, writings being for duration, as well as for ratification, and by this adventure we not &s;eldom &s;eal a prejudice and witne&s;s together again&s;t our &s;elves, that may ri&s;e up in judgment whenever the keeper plea|&s;es, and may po&s;&s;ibly prove a Lion that may de|vour all our hope and comfort, when we lea&s;t &s;u&s;pect it.</P>
<P>As I would not write quarrels, &s;o I would not &s;end them by the wi&s;e&s;t per&s;on I ever yet &s;aw, I fancy I never met with any per&s;on prudent e|nough to make up differences between dear and intimate friends; my rea&s;ons are the&s;e.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, friends cannot be more friends one to another then to them&s;elves, therefore they de|cline judgment in their own ca&s;e, and addre&s;&s;e them&s;elves to a third per&s;on, not to be con|demned, but to be vindicated, which they both expect: nor can this third per&s;on be a competent judge, becau&s;e he can never be rightly informed if there be any &s;ecrecy in the ca&s;e, becau&s;e all friends lie under this re&s;triction, they cannot re|veal a &s;ecret that would widen the breach, and make it &s;o much the more impo&s;&s;ible ever to be mended, and would prove like the &s;topping of blood in the no&s;e, by wounding the heart.</P>
<P>I argue thus, this third per&s;on mu&s;t be &s;uch a per&s;on, as mu&s;t have the command of both, o|therwi&s;e he will be over-born, and then he mu&s;t act as a mediator or a Judge; if as a mediator he mu&s;t intreat both, can command neither, and then will very hardly reconcile them; they ex|pecting
<PB N="136" REF="74"> one from the other, what he requires from both, that is compliance and &s;ubmi&s;&s;ion: If he act as a <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">udge, he mu&s;t acquit or condemn, he cannot acquit both; there mu&s;t be a fault &s;ome|where, otherwi&s;e there could be no quarrel, nor can be condemn both with any kind of prudence, for then he leaves them, as he found them, di&s;|&s;atisfied &s;till, if not about their guilt (for po&s;&s;i|bly they may be convinced they were both in a fault) yet about the mea&s;ure they may di&s;pute; one will &s;ay he is not &s;o much guilty as the o|ther: now unle&s;s this la&s;t which is the guilt can be determined and a&s;certained, nothing is done, and this cannot be done but by a definitive &s;en|tence upon one of the two, which will be &s;o far from making peace, that it will promote and a&s;|certain the quarel, becau&s;e before whateverjudg|ment pa&s;&s;ed between them upon either was but judging in their own ca&s;e, and might be con|temned by either without any further breach, but now being condemned by a per&s;on mutually cho&s;en, the judgment mu&s;t &s;tand again<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">t that per&s;on convicted, and &s;o the quarrel mu&s;t re&s;t groundedly on that &s;ide, which will hardly be &s;ubmitted to by the other, &s;o then the re&s;ult will be this, the quarrel that was only between two before, is now between three. <HI>Solomon</HI> &s;ays, he that meddles with contention, takes a bear by the foot; and may get a &s;nap for his pains, but this is &s;ure he &s;hall never pa&s;s without a blot. It is mo&s;t true, that as differences among friends ought with all prudence to be concealed, &s;o if once they come to be publick, they can hardly
<PB N="137" REF="74"> remain friends. I would with much more content in this ca&s;e make a new friend&s;hip than repair the old, this being more chargeable and hazardous, that being more ea&s;y and certain.</P>
<P>Fourthly, Do not readily accu&s;e your friend, nor hearken to them that doth it: the lea&s;t coun|tenance in this ca&s;e as it will incourage an enemy, &s;o you your &s;elf may be in&s;nared: with the well advi&s;ed is wi&s;dom: if you argue wi&s;ely you will never accu&s;e ra&s;hly, &s;ee that there be good ground for an accu&s;ation before you receive it, lea&s;t you fail of your evidence, and retreat with &s;hame and lo&s;&s;e: nor mu&s;t you give an ear to others in this matter becau&s;e this may convey prejudice into your heart in&s;en&s;ibly, and make &s;o deep an im|pre&s;&s;ion, which though never &s;o fal&s;e, and un|grounded will never afterwards give place to the greate&s;t truth, having taken the fir&s;t po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion, nor be clearly ra&s;ed by the be&s;t policy, it may di&s;appear &s;ometimes, but like an apparition at other times it will appear again, and po&s;&s;ibly prove a con&s;tant vaxation either to the fancy as to a mans felf, or by reflexions from others. It &s;eems more prudence to &s;top the ear again&s;t an accu&s;ation, then &s;tudy the mo&s;t compendious de|fence; becau&s;e a man is as likely to be corrupted as the accu&s;er is to be convinced, e&s;pecially if the la&s;t can more wittily manage the &s;candal, then the fir&s;t can the truth, varni&s;hes will &s;et off much, and men thtough carele&s;ne&s;s &s;ometimes con&s;ent to what they could not rationally believe, if they would take the pains to con&s;ult rea&s;on; I think I would &s;et my head and my heart at work rather
<PB N="138" REF="75"> than by any con&s;ent of mine, give &s;atisfaction to per&s;ons at enmity with frend&s;hip, or with my friend, as to hearken, much le&s;&s;e give the lea&s;t credit to their impeachments: I &s;hould be very unwilling &s;o much to promote my own di&s;quiet; who can have little peace if &s;uch an Achan lay in my bo&s;om, which might &s;ecretly cut the knot of frend&s;hip, or rai&s;e &s;uch a &s;torm, that could not ea&s;ily be allayed.</P>
<P>Fifthly, do not in all companies commend your friend above an ordinary pitch: this may prove his greate&s;t prejudice: he that ri&s;eth early in the morning to commend his friend, the wi&s;e man &s;aith, <HI>it &s;hall be counted to him as a cur&s;e:</HI> We have a remarkable in&s;tance of this in <HI>Saul,</HI> the women an&s;wered ane another as they played, &s;ay|ing, <HI>Saul hath &s;lain his thou&s;ands, and</HI> David <HI>his ten thou&s;ands, and</HI> Saul <HI>was very wroth, and this &s;aying di&s;plea&s;ed him, &amp;</HI> Saul <HI>eyed or envied</HI> David <HI>from that day forward.</HI> Hereby you draw many envious per&s;ons nearly to in&s;pect every of his actions, &amp; in ca&s;e of the lea&s;t flaw appearing either in life or birth, improve them to his di&s;advantage: rather contemplate and imitate his perfections then di&s;|cour&s;e them, le&s;t you meet with &s;ubtle men who are re&s;olved in oppo&s;ition to you (though may be no way prejudiced again&s;t him you pleade for at the pre&s;ent) who will be as indu&s;trious to fix a &s;candal as you are to attribute real worth, and they may haply finde more arguments for that a&s;pertion, though fal&s;e, then you can for the truth, e&s;pecially if you undertake the defence of what you cannot unque&s;tionably maintain, and
<PB N="139" REF="75"> &s;o as your argument falls, the credit of your friend loo&s;es, be&s;ides you are apt to mi&s;tru&s;t and he&s;itate about that you cannot &s;ay more for, then another can &s;ay again&s;t, and &s;o in&s;tead of bringing your friend into reputation with others, he may loo&s;e his credit worth you; not becau&s;e he de&s;erves it, but becau&s;e you were not rightly informed and prepared to undertake &s;uch di&s;|putes: Let your friends good works commend him in the gates: all his prai&s;e-worthy qualities mu&s;t be private, or publick, or both: if private, not always fit to be proclaimed, they being never &s;o good, are liable to cen&s;ure by them that like &s;piders &s;uck poy&s;on where others finde honey: the excellency of frend&s;hip may be &s;o interpreted that much prejudice may accidentally in&s;ue thereby: &s;ome men are prone to cen&s;ure, what they cannot under&s;tand, others willingly &s;hut their eyes, becau&s;e they cannot look upon that without prejudice in another, which makes them &s;o much more &s;plendid than them&s;elves: It is with them, as with the weak eye which cannot behold the &s;un in its body, not that there is any defect in the object but the defect is in the vi&s;ive faculty which &s;hould receive the &s;ame.</P>
<P>Again, if they be publick, they need no pleader, they will plead for them&s;elves, and force a repu|tation from tho&s;e that are not wholy barbarous, or (that which is wor&s;e) prepo&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed with un|grounded prejudice. I never &s;aw high commen|dations, but they were &s;econded with excepti|ons, the arguing of which have created many a quarrel, and &s;et the end aimed at, at a greater di&s;tance.</P>
<PB N="140" REF="76">
<P>Sixthly, if you have been free and generous to your friend, never upbraid him with it: this is mo&s;t ba&s;e and di&s;ingenious, and that which a no|ble &s;pirit would blu&s;h to think of: nothing is more di&s;obliging than this, and &s;peaks a man of a lower &s;pirit: hereby he doth not only underva|lue his friend, but he di&s;charges him of an obli|gation he greatly lay under before, and puts him|&s;elf out of any expectation of a compen&s;ation, let his civilities be what they will; I could never think my &s;elf obliged where upbraided, that being a rate too dear for any courte&s;y: and in this ca&s;e I may more ju&s;tly expect &s;atisfacti|on, than give it: I would never be&s;tow my bounty except I &s;aw rea&s;on for it; and having given I &s;hould think nothing more unrea&s;onable then to repine. Never look after gratuities when you have &s;ent them away, nor call them again by repentance, for nothing will return but a great damage, a ju&s;t prejudice, and a &s;pot no time nor endeavour will be able to wipe out.</P>
<P>Seventhly, never carry your &s;elf &s;o that your friend may fear you, this contrary pa&s;&s;ion will al|ter the &s;tate of that relation, love being changed unto fear will frighten and amaze where it &s;hould induce and incline. This is mo&s;t oppo&s;ite to love and &s;peaks it imperfect, otherwi&s;e it would ca&s;t out all manner of &s;lavi&s;h fear. I could never love heartily, where I could fear really: where love is turned into fear, equity changed into pow|er, &s;ociety into obedience, there can never be a perfect friend&s;hip: here is too much care for kindne&s;s, inequality for amity, obedience for
<PB N="141" REF="76"> love, and &s;peaks my friend more a ma&s;ter than a fociable companion. Certainly I could never comply here without flattery and vexation, there being a flavery in fear too ba&s;e for friend|&s;hip.</P>
<P>Eightly, never detract from the credit of your friend, but &s;till acknowledge his ju&s;t de&s;erts; as it is flattery to rai&s;e his value beyond his ju&s;t me|rits, &s;o it is inju&s;tice to dimini&s;h his real worth, never believe his prai&s;e-worthy qualities your di&s;paragement; if you do, you are not only un|ju&s;t but envious. I would rejoice as much in the commendation of my friend as my own, beeau&s;e I can with freedom expre&s;&s;e my &s;atisfaction in the applau&s;e of my friend, and augment it; when I &s;hould think it more di&s;creet and civil by a blu&s;h|ing &s;ilence to receive the &s;ame for my &s;elf: I do oftner contemplate the goodne&s;s of my friend then his errours, becau&s;e I love plea&s;ure, and fear perplexity: I hate to be like the ungrateful raven, that flyes nimbly over many plea&s;ant things, and pitches with delight on a carca&s;&s;e. I would rather convince my friend by a contrary example and behaviour than be too officious in &s;earching into his defects, that may be he is as far from ju&s;tifying, as I am from commending, and he needs no reproof being too ready to con|demn him&s;elf, and yet at pre&s;ent cannot a&s;&s;ume the title of conqueror; we cannot think we con|tract alliance with angels: in our be&s;t frend&s;hips mnny a &s;lip mu&s;t be winkt at, and a friend may challenge &s;o much as this, <HI>viz.</HI> that we &s;hould u&s;e all po&s;&s;ible means to keep up the credit of
<PB N="142" REF="77"> him, to whom we are &s;o nearly related: nor can we be kind or ju&s;t, if we do not improve all to his advantage in this regard.</P>
<P>Ninthly, never manage any di&s;pute with pa&s;&s;i|on, this will intangle the web of frend&s;hip, de|&s;troy the peace, and turn your harmony unto jangling: di&s;putes are &s;eparating things, <HI>Paul</HI> and <HI>Barnabas</HI> lived friendly together, till di&s;pute parted them, pride very often is at the bottom of di&s;putes, and will contend for victory, and men will venture very hard for it: witne&s;s tho&s;e &s;ad di&s;&s;entions in the Church of God at this day. I would rather con&s;ult my books, and learned au|thors, or rational &s;trangers, or any indifferent per&s;on then with my friend about matters of dif|ficulty, becau&s;e I would not run the venture of contention; friends may deliberately argue, and convince one another, and this may augment their profit, and experience, but they mu&s;t not pro|ceed to a di&s;pute, wherein there is a forcible op|po&s;ition made on both &s;ides; it will be more pru|dence to leave it to them that are better able to manage it, or to a more eonvenient &s;ea&s;on. I have ob&s;erved that tho&s;e that have &s;eemed unper|&s;wadable while the di&s;pute continued, afterwards upon a more mature con&s;ideration by the &s;ame arguments have been convinced; and was not this &s;ilent and peaceable victory better than that which might have ended in a quarrel, men are not willing to &s;ubmit their rea&s;on, where they think they &s;hall pa&s;&s;e under any &s;light or under|value, yet upon mature con&s;ideration and &s;o|lid contemplation afterwards, it appearing ne|ce&s;&s;ary
<PB N="143" REF="77"> rea&s;on will force them to &s;ubmit, which they are willing to do when it may be done &s;i|lently and without noi&s;e.</P>
<P>Tenthly, be not curiou&s;ly inqui&s;itive after any thing you find an aver&s;ene&s;s in your friend to re|veal, and do not believe it a breach of frend&s;hip, if upon &s;uch an attempt he denies you: it may be your humour and pre&s;ent capacity cannot bear it, or the &s;ea&s;on is not fit for it; or &s;hould he gra|tify your curio&s;ity, he may be cruel in what you call kindne&s;s, confide &s;o much in your friend, as to believe that he will conceal nothing from you, that will do you good to know, and what he doth in this particular is from prudence not perver&s;ne&s;s. In&s;tance in this one particular; I have committed a fault and have perhaps ingaged my rea&s;on and con&s;cience again&s;t me, and is not that enough, but I mu&s;t engage my friend again&s;t me al&s;o. I ambition nothing more, (next to my intere&s;t in God and eternal concernments) then the good opinion of my friend, and &s;hall I not pre&s;erve it by all means po&s;&s;ible? I will ne|ver betray my &s;elf to his cen&s;ure: I had rather pa&s;s under his approbation, than condemnation: the fir&s;t will confirm the frend&s;hip, the la&s;t will loo&s;en it: I never thought it civil to pre&s;&s;e my friend be|yond a voluntarie complianee, nor pa&s;&s;ionately to &s;crue a &s;ecret out of him: this were to betray my tru&s;t and rob his cabinet becau&s;e he hath tru&s;ted his key with me, which he did not do to hazard his own intere&s;t, but to &s;ecure mine. It is true a friend mu&s;t be tru&s;ted with &s;ecrets, yet it doth not follow that he mu&s;t be entru&s;t|ed
<PB N="144" REF="78"> with all &s;e<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">rets. In&s;tance, there are many things that I can neither in prudence, nor con&s;cience re|veal, that may be again&s;t the tru&s;t impo&s;ed in me, which though from an enemy, I mu&s;t be faithful, &amp; no obligation po&s;&s;ible can releaf me: this may be what I cannot di&s;clo&s;e without betraying my &s;elf into tho&s;e inconveniences, that nothing in frend|&s;hip can repair, <HI>Samp&s;on</HI> had a &s;ecret the di&s;clo&s;ing of which proved his ruine. No man but hath &s;omething that is mo&s;t proper for him&s;elf to know and no other: and I &s;hould think it the greate&s;t bondage to be re&s;trained here imagina|ble, my friend is not my confe&s;&s;or, nor a com|petent Judge in every ca&s;e, he is a traytor and no friend, that would induce me (as <HI>Dalila</HI> did <HI>Samp&s;on</HI>) to betray my &s;elf in any thing &s;orbidden by con&s;cience and prudence. The&s;e things mu&s;t be left to the wi&s;dom of your friend, who is not worthy of that relation, if he cannot manage this affair without prejudice to him&s;elf or his friend. Nor could I with rea&s;on conclude that man could keep my &s;ecrets that could not keep his own, or be faithful to me that betrayed him&s;elf.</P>
<P>Eleventhly, never indent nor impo&s;e on your friend after the friend&s;hip is made; that were to make propo&s;itions after the truce is concluded, which is very irregular, you had your liberty in your fir&s;t choice: you might have made what ex|ceptions you plea&s;ed: and if inequallity had ap|peared have de&s;erted him without cen&s;ure or prejudice, but now it is too late: by &s;uch an en|deavour you extreamlie di&s;oblige your friend, becau&s;e you pre&s;uppo&s;e him unfit for that relati|on
<PB N="145" REF="78"> without manacles and bolts, and this &s;peaks, him a pri&s;oner, where he ought to have the grea|te&s;t freedom; and plainly delares you &s;elfi&s;h, wholly aiming at your own &s;atisfaction, little regarding that of your fr<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">end; be&s;ides you expo&s;e your judgement to cen&s;ure by fixing, before you were in all points thorowly re&s;olved, in all things relating to this great concernment. Likewi&s;e you make your &s;elf a judge of the qualifications pro|per for friend&s;hip, excluding your friend as be|ing a novice in this point. La&s;tly you plainly tell him, he is obliged, and you are not: he &s;tands upon his good behaviour, and you at your liberty: thus you article with him: by all which you declare, you are unfixed till he an&s;wers all tho&s;e articles, and that he mu&s;t &s;tand and fall by your judgment. I love liberty as well as any per|&s;on, yet would expect no more here than I would give: I would never ask of my friend what was &s;lavi&s;h or unhand&s;om, or prejudicial to him, or any thing that may &s;peak me mercenary or uncivil; nor would I grant it if he de&s;ired it of me, I may conceal my errors, but never com|mend them, nor communicate them, they do not de&s;erve an intere&s;t in a vertuous per&s;on that doth &s;o.</P>
<P>Twelfthly, Never contend for &s;uperority, &s;ince friend&s;hip hath made you equal; It is more prudence to &s;hrink than &s;tretch here; &s;uch quar|rels that ari&s;e about place and &s;uperiority, are mechanick and ba&s;e, and they that lea&s;t de&s;erves it mo&s;tly contends for it. I would abate in this ca&s;e rather than contend, yet &s;hould I be no lo|&s;er,
<PB N="146" REF="79"> for what I lo&s;t one way I &s;hould gain ano|ther (if humility be better then pride;) I would not grudge my place, where I could give my heart, nor fear any cen&s;ure, becau&s;e thereby I do not give away my right, or make him more de|ferving that takes it, but I lay this obligation up|on my friend that <HI>I</HI> can deny my &s;elf any thing, him nothing.</P>
<P>Thirteenthly, In all differences between your friend and others endeavour to be ab&s;ent (if po&s;|&s;ible,) if you cannot, be &s;ure you be &s;ilent: by intermedling there you can do no good: if you &s;peak for him you will be thought to be partial, if you be never &s;o ju&s;t; if you &s;peak again&s;t him you can neither be friendly nor civil: and the&s;e two inconveniences will nece&s;&s;arily follow there|upon, the &s;trengthning your friends enemy a|gain&s;t him, and weakning your intere&s;t in your friend, be&s;ide his di&s;appointment is &s;o much the greater having this aggravation entailed upon it, that whereas your friend had but one to contend with before, (and that enemy, which he did not care were he &s;atisfied or not) he hath now a friend al&s;o to per&s;wade, le&s;t he &s;hould by any means e&s;pou&s;e the quarrel: it being not &s;eldom the endeavour of an enemy &s;o to widen the difference as they may take in our be&s;t friends: I do not wonder that I &s;ee wi&s;e men &s;ometimes to &s;eek to finde arguments to plead their innocency, when &s;uch cro&s;&s;e accidents as the&s;e fall out, in which men are &s;urprized. It is probable a man may be provided with arguments enough for his adver&s;ary; but the&s;e may be too har&s;h and im|pertinent
<PB N="147" REF="79"> for his friend, which he de&s;ires to treat with more moderation than the other may de|&s;erve, but now he is at a lo&s;&s;e; for while he is making good his atgument with the one, he lo|&s;es it with the other, becau&s;e he may be urged to pa&s;&s;ion by his enemy, but bound to patience with his friend; and while he exerci&s;es patience to him, pa&s;&s;ion out-runs him in his adver&s;ary, which may very well be becau&s;e he hath two parts to act, the adver&s;ary but one; he hath not only pa&s;&s;ion to contend with again&s;t his enemy, but moderation to exerci&s;e towards his friend, therefore cannot keep equal pace with his adver|&s;ary; &s;o his task is doubled. This is the rea&s;on men are argued many times of their right: pa&s;&s;ion is quicker-witted than patience in all ha|&s;ty matters, and will not &s;tay till patience can deliberately deliver it &s;elf: pa&s;&s;ion is more ready with accu&s;ations, than patience can be with vindications, there being much more of the u&s;e of rea&s;on in the la&s;t than in the fir&s;t. Commonly men are generall in their a&s;per&s;ions, which when they come to be divided and an&s;wered to par|ticularly, requires much rea&s;on in order to the right arguing of them. I would never tru&s;t that man that &s;hould joyn in a quarrel, or be a voluntary evidence again&s;t his friend, this were a crime that could not be palliated by any pretence what&s;oever. There are but two things I ever &s;aw offered by way of defence in this ca&s;e, neither of which can excu&s;e it: It may be (you will &s;ay) your friend contended with his &s;uperiour, and did not ob&s;erve his di&s;tance,
<PB N="148" REF="80" MS="y"> and you thought that you &s;hould have been no le&s;&s;e uncivil if you had not at lea&s;t &s;hewed your di&s;&s;ent by way of reproof, <HI>I</HI> never &s;aw &s;uch civi|lity &s;ea&s;onable or grateful to either; for the fir&s;t he thinks he de&s;erves it, and therefore will own it not courte&s;ie, the other will believe it a breach of friend&s;hip, which ought to be con&s;idered be|fore complements: this &s;eems to be allowable only in parents, who &s;ometimes in quarrels a|mong their children, may condemn the mo&s;t in|nocent either out of complement to a father who may be honoured for his title, or by way of re|proof to affrighten h<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">m from contention where he may be overmatched to his damage; there is no &s;uch obligation in friend&s;hip, parents walk in a path of un&s;earchable liberty in this regard, and may di&s;pence with the rules of exact ju&s;tice, there being none capabl<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter"> of que&s;tioning them, be|cau&s;e of their power and propriety which is &s;u|pream; but friends are under re&s;trictions &amp; tyed up to laws that are indi&s;pen&s;able; But (may be) you will &s;ay in the &s;econd place, your friend did not &s;tate the ca&s;e right, and therefore you could not under&s;tand his innocencie: if &s;o, you had the lea&s;t rea&s;on to cen&s;ure him: if your friend had not been readie with his arguments, you had the more rea&s;on to help him, or at lea&s;t have been &s;ilent till you could have been better infor|med: you know prejudice is a dangerous drugg, and like a pill ea&s;ily &s;wallowed, but like poy&s;on hardly purged out by the be&s;t arguments; nor will he that hath done the injury &s;tay to cure a wound he hath de&s;igninglie made, but like a cow|ard
<PB N="149" REF="80"> &s;ecretly &s;trikes a trecherous blow, and runs away, being afraid to contend where he is &s;ure to be vanqui&s;hed: I could never take him to be my friend that could ea&s;ily be brought to con|demn me.</P>
<P>To avoid this and many inconveniences more, Never ambition to be with your frend in all companyes, nor dive into his tran&s;actions with all per&s;ons without his con&s;ent: this is to im|po&s;e upon him, and entrench upon his freedom, which cannot be acceptable: men will not wil|lingly be abridged of their liberty; nor can it be always civil either with re&s;pect to your friend or tho&s;e he conver&s;es with: no man but hath &s;ome|thing he in prudence ought to manage him&s;elf a|lone, without the pre&s;ence of the deare&s;t friend. I would a&s;much de&s;ire to di&s;cour&s;e my bu&s;ines with a &s;tranger alone &s;ometimes, as at other times to enjoy my own thoughts without any interrupti|on: and it is as nece&s;&s;ary: it is po&s;&s;ible the per|&s;ons with whom I conver&s;e &s;ometimes, cannot have that freedom to di&s;cour&s;e matters of weight before a &s;tranger, who though he be never &s;o inge|nious, cannot be fit to be tru&s;ted with their af|faires, without ju&s;t &s;u&s;picion and exception. I never thought it any breach of frend&s;hip to forbid the frequent opening of my letters by my be&s;t friend, believing it rea&s;onable to pre&s;erve that priviledge to my &s;elf; I never remember I ever made a quarrel with any friend about that, but certainly I have often &s;ignifyed my di&s;plea&s;ure at it. I conceive by the &s;ame rule, that all truths are not to be &s;poken at all times: &s;o letters may
<PB N="150" REF="81"> not be broken at all times, beeau&s;e hereby I am not only liable to prejudice my &s;elf, but all tho&s;e that entru&s;t me; and I mu&s;t deal faithfully with every man as well as with my friend. It is po&s;&s;i|ble <HI>I</HI> may be tru&s;ted with tho&s;e affairs for &s;ome per&s;on that will think it as much again&s;t his inte|re&s;t as his inclination, to have them revealed to any, but what he had de&s;igned and prepared. My friend though he be bound to me, is not bound to all that conver&s;e with me, neither is he con&s;trained by any manner of tye to fancy all that I fancy, or to make a quarrel with every per|&s;on I cannot like; <HI>I</HI> confe&s;s <HI>I</HI> would not give that ground for &s;u&s;picion to hold an intercour&s;e by letters or otherwi&s;e, without his knowledge and approbation; yet in bu&s;ine&s;&s;es that more particu|larlie concern my &s;elf, if they mu&s;t be known (e&s;peciallie in tho&s;e things, wherein there may be &s;cruples,) <HI>I</HI> would willinglie be the relater my &s;elf; and this may be nece&s;&s;arie &s;ometimes becau&s;e bu&s;ine&s;s may be uncertainlie under&s;tood, or by the unfaithfulnefs of the relater &s;o fal&s;lie re|pre&s;ented, that it may admit of &s;uch interpretati|ons as might much prejudice credit, and que&s;tion con&s;cience; not becau&s;e there is any other rea|&s;on for it, but the ignorance or malice of the in|former. <HI>I</HI> have known little pettie di&s;contents in letters, not hand&s;omelie worded, made mat|mer of contempt and &s;candal, whereas if the per|&s;on had been pre&s;ent that under&s;tood the mean|ing of it, he might have given &s;uch &s;olid &s;atisfa|ction, that might have an&s;wered all the cavils and exceptions with much ea&s;e, and obtained a cer|tain
<PB N="151" REF="81"> vindication. <HI>I</HI> would never impo&s;e upon my friend, but would willingly ab&s;ent my &s;elf at any time (if <HI>I</HI> &s;aw it nece&s;&s;ary) but mo&s;t e&s;pe|cially in &s;uch &s;ea&s;ons as the&s;e are; In&s;tance when he is to conver&s;e with his near relations private|lie: there are many rea&s;ons to be given why a dear friend and neare&s;t relations &s;hould not alwaies be plea&s;ant one to another. The per&s;ons concerned may through Jealou&s;ie be ungrateful, and a friend can hardlie carrie it &s;o, as to give e|qual content in that ca&s;e, or at lea&s;t would not willingly be at that trouble; neither would <HI>I</HI> de|&s;ire to be pre&s;ent when weightie bu&s;ine&s;&s;es that did no way concern me, were tran&s;acting between my friend and &s;trangers: above all, <HI>I</HI> would withdraw my &s;elf, when <HI>I</HI> &s;aw him &s;e|riou&s;lie inclined about matters of eternal con|cernment, and <HI>I</HI> would give him all the help po&s;&s;i|ble there; and hereby <HI>I</HI> &s;hould wonderfullie ex|pre&s;&s;e my real and intire affection, al&s;o my own advantage would incline me to encourage him rather than divert him; being &s;ure of this, that his advantage will be my gain, becau&s;e he would certainly intere&s;t me in his prayers, and I &s;hould partake of the benefits of his contemplati|ons, and this may &s;ometimes be &s;o &s;ea&s;onable, that I would not be without it for all the world. I have &s;een private contemplations and meditati|ons, through the ble&s;&s;ing of God &s;o improved, as to prove more effectual for the re&s;olving of &s;ome puzling &s;cruples coming from a particular Chri|&s;tian, than the advice of &s;everal Divines; and this comes to pa&s;&s;e, becau&s;e experimental know|ledg
<PB N="152" REF="82"> hath more credit, than that which is doctri|nal: the one may floate in the head, the other &s;inks into the heart; and makes the face of a man to &s;hine, like <HI>Mo&s;es</HI> con&s;picuou&s;ly in his friend|ly conver&s;ation.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 N="152-172" TYPE="pages">
<P>Fourteenthly, give &s;ound and &s;erious advice to your friend without obliging him to obedi|ence, leave him to his libetty, why &s;hould not his judgment be as good as yours? draw your argument as fair as you can, it is no harm to arm at &s;ucce&s;&s;e, but do not contend for it, nor be an|gry, if your coun&s;el be neglected; advi&s;e <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 word"> empire: this is not the way to be honoured with victory to make your &s;elf a judge, If you give advice and exact obedience, you rather act like an ambitious man, than a kind and ingenious friend. Coun&s;el is mo&s;t taking, when propound|ed with humility and indifferency. I can per|&s;wade my friend to any thing, when I can com|mand him to nothing: arguments they are &s;ometimes like food, that in the fir&s;t ta&s;t cannot be relli&s;hed, but afterwards is very delicious and plea&s;ant to the pallat; or like &s;ome &s;pirits, that are very unplea&s;ant to the palate, but of great benefit after concoction to the &s;tomach. I would leave my coun&s;el as my books to be well &s;can|ned before I would expect either a complyance to the one, or an approbation to the other: and at la&s;t would not think the wor&s;e of my friend if he liked neither.</P>
<P>Fifteenthly, Never harbour any &s;u&s;pition of your friend; be well advi&s;ed here: you cannot act more di&s;plea&s;ing than in entertaining cau&s;e|le&s;s
<PB N="153" REF="82"> &s;u&s;pition, becau&s;e hereby you may wrong him, and impeach him when he is mo&s;t innocent: and what is more thornie and wounding then cau&s;ele&s;s &s;u&s;pition, it creates jealou&s;ie and mistru&s;t of that per&s;on who intends mo&s;t unfeign|edly; I would never make frend&s;hip where I could not confide without &s;u&s;pition; becau&s;e if I can't be confident of his &s;incerity, I cannot believe nor tru&s;t him, nor count him hone&s;t, nor pay him that civility that frend&s;hip requires, If you have any temptation to this, argue it gravely and &s;o|lidly: may be the defect is in the eye, not in the object: when we con&s;ider the various acci|dents of everie day, in which no man is con&s;tant|ly plea&s;ed or di&s;plea&s;ed with the &s;ame things, we may &s;u&s;pect our &s;elves. Melancholy is verie &s;u&s;|pitious, and in that dark &s;tate we &s;tumble at e|very &s;traw: and becau&s;e my own di&s;temper hath ca&s;t &s;tumbling blocks in my way, &s;hall I &s;u&s;pect my friend of treacherie, and unfaithfulne&s;s, or want of real affection, <HI>&amp;c.</HI> and &s;ay, becau&s;e I cannot always di&s;cern his &s;incerity, (when hap|pily I am blinded with prejudice, pa&s;&s;ion, or di&s;content, &s;urely there is no &s;uch thing:) O this were mo&s;t unrea&s;onable: we may as well &s;ay, that half of the oare is broken, becau&s;e out of our &s;ight and in the water: and a blind man may as truly conclude, there is no &s;un in the heavens, becau&s;e he cannot &s;ee it: or we may di&s;pute a|gain&s;t the being of the &s;un, becau&s;e it is under a cloud, or in an ecclip&s;e.</P>
<P>Sixteenthly, Never think a new friend better than an old; many things are mo&s;t valuable for
<PB N="154" REF="83"> their age: frend&s;hip is one of the&s;e; an old friend like old wine is much better then new; It gathers &s;pirits, as it expends days: without que&s;tion friend&s;hip grows more vigorous and active by the delightful intercour&s;e, and tho&s;e endearments it feeds upon. Frend&s;hip is not &s;o perfect in its infancy, as in its riper years: it augments as tho&s;e worthy qualities it fir&s;t pitched upon im|proves, and are more &s;plendid: the hidden parts of frend&s;hip are not &s;een all at once, nor can be: they di&s;cover them&s;elves according to the acci|dents and times they are mo&s;t welcome and ne|ce&s;&s;ary in: a friend acts many parts which require time and order: if you e&s;teem your friend wor|thy, he will appear much better by tryal, and experience, whereby you will be &s;atisfied of his habitual worthine&s;s; he was new, you have kept him till he is old: &s;ay not now the new is bet|ter. I could never fancy any earthly thing in hope equal much le&s;s beyond that in hand; or expect happine&s;s in the change of what I was in a good mea&s;ure &s;atisfied in before; that proverb is not contemptible, &s;eldom comes a better. I could never neglect and de&s;pi&s;e any whom I once thought worthy of my affection: nor think it prudence to part wirh my cabinet, in which my chief trea&s;ure lies, becau&s;e the varni&s;h is worn off, &amp; it is not &s;o hand&s;ome as when it was new, I mean my &s;ecrets, which are my mo&s;t precious jewels. One friend according to this mea&s;ure is enough for my whole life, if death doth not &s;e|parate, nothing el&s;e &s;hall by my occa&s;ion or con|&s;ent. I cannot change but at a great uncertainty,
<PB N="155" REF="83" MS="y"> for if I could not find rea&s;on to continue the old frend&s;hip, I &s;hould find le&s;s to make another. It mu&s;t be &s;ome errour in the fir&s;t that induces me to make a &s;econd, and that mu&s;t be what I did not at fir&s;t di&s;cover, and therefore cannot be certain, I &s;hall not find the &s;ame defect in ano|ther; becau&s;e men act&punc; as their age and temper of body inclines them, and that may be very dif|ferent at one time, to what it is at another. We cannot expect that plea&s;ure in age, we found in youth, nor that content in &s;ickne&s;s we found in health; all the&s;e things mu&s;t be con&s;idered and allowed: If you have found a faithful friend, you have found a trea&s;ure, &amp; admit he may not be in all points what you would have him to be, he is too good to part with, &amp; mo&s;t likely your gain in the change will never recompen&s;e your lo&s;&s;e, nor can you ever rationally think to gain credit with a new friend, when you have lo&s;t it with the old, he may flatter you, but he will never tru&s;t you: he may humour you, but can never honour you, nor hartily clo&s;e with you, having great grounds for &s;u&s;pition, and fear of a heart breaking &s;epa|ration.</P>
<P>Seventeenthly, Be free and generous: <HI>A gift</HI> (&s;aith the wi&s;e man) <HI>fa&s;teneth friend&s;hip:</HI> give bountifully and receive thankfully, the &s;malle&s;t kindne&s;s: think nothing too good or too great for your friend: nor e&s;teem that a recompence fit for kindne&s;s received, except you can equal or exceed it; better &s;till lie under an obligation than make a half &s;atisfaction: nothing &s;hort is ac|counted any thing in this ca&s;e: it may underva|lue
<PB N="156" REF="84"> the gift, but never gratify the giver. I &s;ome|times take a &s;mall gift kindely from my friend, becau&s;e it makes me no great debtor, and &s;peaks his love as truly as a greater, yet I would not give meanly, were I obliged and able to do better; and it is no crime in me to endeavour to outdo my friend in noble and generous actions: this &s;eems a paradox becau&s;e we cannot under|&s;tand how we &s;peak properly when we &s;peak of giving or receiving among friends, where hearts are united and con&s;equently they can have no divided intere&s;t, but all things are common; ex|cept we mean by it the &s;ignification of the thing which is more then the thing it &s;elf, as a reall and &s;incere affection: I would not value any courte|fie or civility that did not bring more of affection than profit: I can ea&s;ily compen&s;ate the la&s;t and di&s;charge my &s;elf, but mu&s;t lie under an eternal obligation for the other.</P>
<P>Eighteenthly, Never di&s;&s;emble with your friend, but deal plainly with him, e&s;pecially when he referrs him&s;elf to you: do not call bit|ter &s;weet, and &s;weet bitter: this is the wor&s;e way of ingratiating your &s;elf, and by this means you may prove a traytor to him if you can keep off evil, do it with all po&s;&s;ible care and endea|vour, but when you &s;ee it will come unavoida|bly, rather prepare him for it, than keep it from him: nothing more cruel than di&s;appointment; which no man oftner finds then he that is flattered into a belief of what is really impo&s;&s;ible. It is as great a wrong to a man, to heap upon him un|meritted commendations, as to detract from his
<PB N="157" REF="84"> ju&s;t de&s;erts. I would not be the fir&s;t that would impeach my friend, nor the la&s;t that would un|deceive him, i&s; I &s;aw him inclinable to overvalue him&s;elf.</P>
<P>Nineteenthly, Let your &s;peech and communi|cation be religious, &s;olid and civil, it is <HI>Pauls</HI> advice, that <HI>we be courteous;</HI> there is much in this to promote content: words may be healing, and they may be wounding. <HI>Solomon</HI> ob&s;erved, that <HI>they are like honey. David</HI> ob&s;erves, <HI>they are like arrows,</HI> that &s;hoots fwi&s;tly, &s;ecretly, and deadly, &s;aith he, <HI>they &s;hoot arrows again&s;t me,</HI> even bitter words: in order hereunto, &s;hun all unfaithful repetitions. I mean by this, &s;uch as for matter repre&s;ents things ab&s;olutely contrary to the meaning of them that &s;peak. It is u&s;ual with us to wre&s;t words according to our own fancies: good meanings may be often &s;o ill-worded, that they may prove matter of reproach&punc; and &s;corn; e&s;|pecially becau&s;e often &s;econded by &s;mart and cruel reflexions: acceptable words are very plea&s;ant; &s;uch as the&s;e <HI>Paul</HI> refers to, when he &s;ays, <HI>let your words be &s;ea&s;oned with &s;alt, admi|ni&s;tring grace to the hearers:</HI> &s;uch words as the&s;e leave a kinde of titillation and plea&s;ure upon the heart, which &s;weetne&s;s ab&s;ence, and reconciles all cro&s;&s;e accidents that are pre&s;ent whereas on the other &s;ide contrariwi&s;e evil words leave a di&s;relli&s;h upon the heart, and extreamly imbit|ters and aggravates &s;uch accidents: Evil words are the ground of all quarrels; it is exceeding nece&s;&s;ary, as well as plea&s;ing, that there be a ha|bit of good words among friends, becau&s;e the
<PB N="158" REF="85"> tongue is not &s;eldom like an unruly and unfaith|ful &s;ervant, that very often runs without the con|&s;ent of his ma&s;ter, and is not &s;eldom prompt|ed by pa&s;&s;ion; we think it a &s;ufficient excu&s;e, when the injury is done, to &s;ay, I was ra&s;h, and &s;pake what I did not believe or think; This is breaking my head and giving a plai&s;ter, and very &s;eldom &s;ignifyes any thing in reference to a reconciliation: be&s;ides pa&s;&s;ion doth not &s;tudy privacy, and if a &s;candalous word reaches the ear of a third per&s;on, it may prove like a gan|grene, that will admit of no cure, and &s;urely provides work for the Devil and his imps, who would rejoice in &s;uch an opportunity, that they might aggravate things to a final &s;eparation. <HI>Solo|mon</HI> gives us a hint of this, and &s;aith, <HI>a talebearer &s;eparates chief friends;</HI> and St. <HI>James</HI> tells us, <HI>&s;uch a tongue is &s;et on fire of hell:</HI> therefore we had need have the more care, and conclude all our di&s;|putes with this exhortation of S. <HI>Paul, Let all bit|terne&s;&s;e, wrath, anger, clamour, evil &s;peaking, be put away from you, and be kinde one to another, ten|der-hearted, forgiving one another, as God for Chri&s;ts &s;ake hath forgiven you.</HI> Again, never pa&s;&s;e &s;entence again&s;t your friend, or willingly be judge in any ca&s;e that concerns him, e&s;pecially if the matter be hidden and intricate, or if you finde in your heart the lea&s;t partiality; otherwi&s;e you wrong your &s;elf and your friend; both your &s;elf in indulging a pa&s;&s;ion, your friend in condemning the truth, or at lea&s;t injuring of it; which mu&s;t needs &s;uffer where partiality is concerned. If you mu&s;t judge becau&s;e your friend will have it
<PB N="159" REF="85"> &s;o, let him not lo&s;e his end, who expects from you ju&s;tice mixed with clemency and charity, and be as willing to clear as to condemn, if no cau&s;e very criminal appears.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, bani&s;h all things that may alienate your heart from your friend&punc; Entertain him kindly, let him have a &s;eat in your heart: think of him with delight; love his company: bear with him, though he appear &s;ometimes not &s;o amiable; commend him when he doth well; excu&s;e him when he is in fault: ca&s;t the mantel of love upon his infirmities: win him rather by love then fear: &s;tudy his humour: think it not beneath you to comply, though little rea&s;on induces you to it at that in&s;tance: contemplate all his vertues and imitate them: decline his errors, and by a contrary example convinee him: live together: love &amp; re|joice together: comunicate your vertues, improve your &s;ociety to a mutual advantage: he only is fit for frend&s;hip that can do all tho&s;e offices for which frend&s;hip is excellent; treat your friend hand&s;omly and nobly, multiply tho&s;e endear|ments upon him that &s;hall make him your own in&s;eparably; improve &s;ociety by frequent com|merce; nothing in this relation more endearing than repeated fruition; and in this re&s;pect frend|&s;hip &s;urpa&s;&s;es all other relations becau&s;e it is without di&s;gu&s;t: &s;tudy what friends you would have upon the exacte&s;t election, and be that, ex|ample is much: frend&s;hip is not for contempla|tion and &s;hew, but for material comfort and mu|tual &s;atisfaction, and is advantageous to the &s;pi|ritual as well as rational parts, when religion and
<PB N="160" REF="86" MS="y"> rea&s;on go hand in hand the frend&s;hip is mo&s;t illu|&s;trious becau&s;e &s;ingularly advanc't hereby. I come now to the La&s;t thing promi&s;ed, <HI>viz.</HI> the con|clu&s;ion by way of commendation; here &s;ee the il|lu&s;tration and confirmation of the happine&s;s, ho|nour, and excellency of the capacity and &s;tate of frend&s;hip.</P>
<P>In order hereunto give me leave to &s;et before you the be&s;t and highe&s;t example po&s;&s;ibly in hea|ven or earth: the man Chri&s;t Je&s;us, who may if we con&s;ult rea&s;on and Scripture be verily con|cluded to contract a frend&s;hip with <HI>John</HI> the <HI>E|vangeli&s;t.</HI> We do not find that our&punc; Lord took any delight in &s;en&s;uall plea&s;ures upon earth: yet it is more than probable, he had plea&s;ure in this rati|onal recreation of a moral friend&s;hip: which may ea&s;ily reach our belief if we examine his own books, the holy Scriptures that te&s;tifie<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="2 letters"> of him, if the cau&s;e may be concluded by the effect, the thing by its properties, then it will not be hard to prove, that there was a moral friend&s;hip be|tween Chri&s;t and <HI>John,</HI> and that which &s;eems to &s;trengthen the argument may be this: if friend|&s;hip be the improvement of the rational part, as it hath been already proved; then it mu&s;t nece&s;|&s;arily be in our &s;aviour, who improved both na|turals and &s;pirituals to the highe&s;t perfections imaginable; nor is this any paradox, that Chri&s;t &s;hould improve in his naturals; for it is undeny|able, he was a child and in minority before he came to riper years: and it cannot be thought that our Saviour had as much perfection in his rea&s;on when he was wrapped in his &s;wadling
<PB N="161" REF="86"> hands in the Inn, as he had when he was thirty years of age, teaching in the temple; without que&s;tion he improved in his rea&s;on as he multi|plyed years, and had a more imperfect u&s;e of his rea&s;on in his youth than after he came to be a grown man: nor can it be ab&s;urd to believe our Saviour having &s;o &s;weet a nature was not with|out &s;ome &s;ociable plea&s;ure, as a diver&s;ion for the repair of his humane nature, which was of|ten afflicted, vexed and grieved: and that his hu|mane nature needed repairs, may be concluded by his eating, drinking, and &s;leeping, <HI>John.</HI> 4. 6. it is &s;aid, <HI>Je&s;us being wearied, &s;at down upon the well:</HI> othertimes <HI>he withdrew from the multitude, and conveyed him&s;elf from them, when they pre&s;&s;ed upon him:</HI> and no diverfion &s;o innocent, and had &s;o litle temptation, as this of friend&s;hip. There are the&s;e &s;even arguments following, that &s;eems to prove this, and they are all eminent properties of a moral friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, the denomination given to <HI>John;</HI> that <HI>he was the di&s;ciple whom Je&s;us loved:</HI> we finde <HI>John</HI> among the di&s;ciples rarely known by any other name, and this plainly di&s;covers the love that our Saviour had to the per&s;on of <HI>Iohn</HI> in a moral &s;en&s;e, and this is mo&s;t evident, becau&s;e it came within the ob&s;ervation of the re&s;t of the di&s;ciples; for had it been Chri&s;ts love to the &s;oul of <HI>Iohn</HI> that was intended by that appellation, that had been inward and &s;piritual, and could not have been under&s;tood by them; and we do not finde our Saviour by any declaration demon&s;trate any &s;uch thing; &s;o that nothing can rationally be con|cluded
<PB N="162" REF="87"> here, but that the di&s;ciples did gather this love of Chri&s;t to <HI>John</HI> from &s;ome outward and vi|&s;ible cau&s;e, as his friendly di&s;cour&s;e and behavi|our towards <HI>Iohn,</HI> as al&s;o the intimacy that was ob&s;erved between them; as lying in his bo&s;ome and con&s;tant communion, and his indulgence; all which we &s;hall con&s;ider more particularly in the following arguments.</P>
<P>Secondly, the familiar conver&s;e between our Lord and <HI>Iohn</HI> is another propertie, and eminent|ly declares friend&s;hip: <HI>John</HI> is &s;aid to lye in the bo&s;ome of Chri&s;t, and this &s;eems to import much intimacy, and much affection: we dearly love them we take into our bo&s;omes; yet this is but an outward expre&s;&s;ion, and therefore may be a mo|ral frend&s;hip, and the rather becau&s;e the&s;e imbra|ces are the proper acts of a moral friend&s;hip&punc; Now as the former denomination did expre&s;&s;e our Saviours tran&s;cendent kindne&s;&s;e to <HI>Iohn</HI> beyond the other di&s;ciples, &s;o this doth no le&s;&s;e &s;peak the intimacy, that was between them beyond what was enjoyed by the re&s;t of the di&s;ciples. It is pro|bable <HI>Peter</HI> lay as near the heart of Chri&s;t as <HI>Iohn</HI> in a &s;piritual &s;en&s;e, and many believers &s;ince; if we could not conclude our Saviours love to us but by &s;uch expre&s;&s;ions, we mu&s;t be &s;hut up under de&s;pair; nor could the di&s;ciples them|&s;elves, have been without ju&s;t cau&s;e of de&s;pon|dency, doubtle&s;s that which did &s;atisfy their &s;pi|rits was, they looked upon it only as an outward expre&s;&s;ion of his love to <HI>Iohn,</HI> as al&s;o the delight he had in his per&s;on, happily for &s;ome obliging qua|lity our Saviour &s;aw in him, more than in the
<PB N="163" REF="87"> re&s;t; and this made them rather incline to honour, than envy <HI>Iohn</HI> who unque&s;tionably was exceed|ing honourable and happy in this relation of friend&s;hip, wherein he &s;tood towards our Savi|our: And this may be the better credited if we con&s;ider that it is not u&s;ual with men to be un&s;atis|fied with one another touching their elections of friend&s;hip, nor think them&s;elves di&s;obliged that they are pa&s;&s;ed by and others pitched upon; be|cau&s;e they allow a freedom to every man in that ca&s;e according as his fancy and affection leads him.</P>
<P>The third Argument is drawn from the intere&s;t <HI>Iohn</HI> &s;eemed to have in our Saviour above the re&s;t of his Di&s;ciples, as appears in that ca&s;e of <HI>Iudas, Iohn</HI> 13. 26. and when our Saviour &s;ignified <HI>that one &s;hould betray him,</HI> they were all amazed, &s;aying, <HI>is it I? is it I? Mark.</HI> 14. 19. and none pre&s;umed to ask our Saviour a re&s;olution in this doubtful ca&s;e: &s;uch was the di&s;tance between our Lord and them; but this di&s;tance was not between <HI>Iohn</HI> and him&punc; for the Di&s;ciples no &s;oo|ner applyed them&s;elves to <HI>Iohn</HI> to move our Sa|vior in the ca&s;e, but the que&s;tion was immediatly an&s;wered: nor do we finde that <HI>Iohn</HI> u&s;ed the lea&s;t ceremony in his addre&s;&s;es to our Lord, but with as much freedom as po&s;&s;ible asked the que&s;tion of our Saviour; who readily an&s;wered, with as much &s;atisfaction; and this is a notable property of friend&s;hip; becau&s;e this act carries in it the greate&s;t intimacy &amp; propriety, both which mu&s;t needs make up a full and perfect frend&s;hip, including every thing that can make that capacity happy.</P>
<PB N="164" REF="88" MS="y">
<P>Fourthly, It is very probable, <HI>Iohn</HI> had more of the &s;ecrets of Chri&s;t than the re&s;t; and this is no &s;mall property of frend&s;hip; the communion that pa&s;&s;ed between our Saviour and <HI>Mo&s;es</HI> and <HI>Elias</HI> in the Mount, was a &s;ecret many of the di&s;ciples knew nothing of, yet it was not peculiar to <HI>Iohn;</HI> for <HI>Peter</HI> and <HI>Iames</HI> was there al&s;o: <HI>Mark.</HI> 9. 2. by which it appears Chri&s;t had peculiar fa|vours which he contributed as he plea&s;ed, &amp; I ve|rily conceive that per&s;on who was mo&s;t e&s;peci|ally beloved, was not without peculiar di&s;cove|ries, at lea&s;t of tho&s;e things which concerned his per&s;on: it's probable <HI>Iohn</HI> knew more of our Saviours prudential proceedings, and moral tran&s;actions then the re&s;t did. I conclude it from hence, becau&s;e though the re&s;t of the di&s;ciples were ignorant of this treachery of <HI>Iudas,</HI> it is ve|ry like <HI>Iohn</HI> was not; if &s;o, he would not have needed an incitement to be re&s;olved who &s;hould betray our Saviour, having the advantage of ly|ing &s;o near him as in his bo&s;om; we may proba|bly conjecture he would have readily asked that que&s;tion, and we may as rationally conceive, that our Saviour had not only di&s;covered this &s;ad and perplexing providence publickly to all his di&s;ci|ples, but privately to <HI>Iohn</HI> the beloved di&s;ciple&punc; and there is the more credit to be given to this &s;uppo&s;ition, becau&s;e we know that there can be no frend&s;hip where there is not a communicati|on of affairs; and we find our Saviour did often di&s;cour&s;e of his death to all his di&s;ciples, and therefore mo&s;t likely to <HI>Iohn</HI> the beloved di&s;ciple and friend of Chri&s;t: friends delighting as much
<PB N="165" REF="88"> &s;ometimes to di&s;cour&s;e their afflictions; as other times to di&s;cour&s;e their affections&punc; it appears by what hath been already ob&s;erved, that our Savi|our had a friend, &s;o I conceive we may without prejudice conclude, he did not d<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ny the u&s;e and benefit of him, as to &s;ocial &s;atisfaction, &s;ervice, content, and plea&s;ure; yet notwith&s;tanding from all this, or any thing el&s;e, we connot conclude <HI>Iohn</HI> had more knowledg in &s;piritual things than the other di&s;ciples, who (we know) were igno|rant of many truths and &s;ome fundamentals; for they dreamed of an earthly kingdom, that our Saviour &s;hould have here on earth: and it was af|ter his re&s;urrection before they were informed of many things touching him; and then our Savi|our &s;ent his &s;pirit that taught them all things: It is probable <HI>Iohn</HI> was no more in&s;tructed; than the re&s;t before, becau&s;e if any of the di&s;ciples had under&s;tood tho&s;e things, it is likely none would have been ignorant; for we &s;ee they were willing to inform each other by the di&s;cour&s;es that pa&s;&s;ed between them at the &s;epulchre, &amp; in their travail to <HI>Emaus</HI> about our Saviours death and re&s;urrection; nor do we ever finde that the di&s;ciples did ever addre&s;&s;e them&s;elves to <HI>Iohn</HI> to be informed of any of Chri&s;ts miracles, or any hidden and divine thing; yet we know they often he&s;itated about &s;uch things, and rea&s;oned among them&s;elves concerning them, &s;o that the conje|cture is pretty clear, that the outward acts of Chri&s;ts prudential negotiations upon earth, as his travelling and healing and other outward acts may be better known to <HI>Iohn</HI> the beloved di&s;ci|ple
<PB N="166" REF="89"> than any of the re&s;t,</P>
<P>Fifthly, another argument of our Saviours af|fection to <HI>Iohn</HI> may be drawn from his iudul|gence to <HI>Iohn.</HI> We never read that he rebuked <HI>Iohn,</HI> as he did <HI>Peter</HI> by any particular reflecti|on. Chri<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">t &s;everely checks <HI>Peter</HI> and calls him devil, <HI>get thee behind me &s;atan;</HI> No doubt but <HI>Iohn</HI> was &s;ubject to mi&s;takes, as well as <HI>Peter;</HI> for we find that <HI>Iohn</HI> was as drow&s;y as the re&s;t when Chri&s;t was in his pa&s;&s;ion, where it might have been expected he &s;hould have been mo&s;t watchful above any of the re&s;t of the di&s;ciples; yet we do not find that our Saviour takes any no|tice of this &s;o as to reprove <HI>Iohn</HI> more than the re&s;t, and it is probable Chri&s;t may u&s;e more ten|derne&s;s, becau&s;e of the relation, though his want of watchfulne&s;s in &s;uch extremity of af|fairs, &s;eems a great fault in <HI>Iohn.</HI> A friend never inclines to grieve the heart of him he dearly loves, becau&s;e the greater kindne&s;s the more wounding is any thing that looks like the con|trary; our Saviour was tender towards <HI>Iohn,</HI> who happily could not have born a reproof with|out much heart breaking trouble, becau&s;e of his tran&s;cendent affection to his Lord. No per&s;on more con&s;iderate than our Lord, who was com|pa&s;&s;ion it &s;elf; the man Chri&s;t Je&s;us was a man of bowels, as we perceive by his lamenting over <HI>Ieru&s;alem, Luk</HI> 19. 42, 48. yet we find that our Saviour was more compa&s;&s;ionate to &s;ome, than others, according as his affections was &s;et. The Jews ob&s;erved he wept for <HI>Lazarus,</HI> when he was dead, and why &s;o? becau&s;e he loved him, as
<PB N="167" REF="89"> appears by that pa&s;&s;age in <HI>Iohn 11. 3. Lord, him whom thou love&s;t is &s;ick,</HI> and we &s;ee by that pa&s;|&s;age of the young man in the Go&s;pel, that our Saviour could love a man for any worthy quali|ty, or moral aceommodation; the text &s;aith, <HI>he looked upon him and loved him;</HI> not that he &s;aw his own image upon his heart, (for this he had not, as is evident, becau&s;e he parted with our Saviour) but &s;aw rea&s;on in his witty an&s;wers, which plea&s;ed our Saviour, &s;o that he gave him an outward commendation &s;uitable to his &s;uper|ficiall acquirements.</P>
<P>Sixthly, the con&s;tant communion between our Saviour and <HI>Iohn</HI> is another argument to prove the frend&s;hip. <HI>Iohn</HI> was very rarely &s;eparated from our Lord before his death and after his ri&s;eing again while he was upon the earth. <HI>Peter</HI> took notice that this di&s;ciple was following Chri&s;t after his ari&s;eing from the dead, and &s;eems to be much concerned about him, how he &s;hould be di&s;po&s;ed of, being to leave his dear Lord; and thereupon makes this que&s;tion to our Lord: <HI>Lord, what &s;hall this man do?</HI> as i&s; he had &s;aid, our lo&s;&s;e is great, but his much greater, as in|deed it was; <HI>Iohn</HI> 21. 22. our Saviours an&s;wer, &s;eems to check <HI>Peters</HI> curio&s;ity: <HI>If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee?</HI> The me|thods of kindne&s;s between Chri&s;t and <HI>Iohn</HI> was not fit to be enquired into; as is evident by our Saviours more than tacite rebuke to <HI>Peter.</HI> It is mo&s;t probable that <HI>Iohn</HI> &s;aw our Saviour before any of the re&s;t a&s;ter his re&s;urrection, becau&s;e he came with him, when our Lord appeared to
<PB N="168" REF="90"> them, for <HI>Peter</HI> takes &s;pecial notice, <HI>Iohn</HI> 21. 20. that he &s;aw that di&s;ciple following our Saviour; by which it is evident he was not among them&punc; and it is ob&s;ervable, that <HI>Iohn</HI> is &s;eldom called by the di&s;ciples or known by any other denominati|on but the&s;e, <HI>viz.</HI> the other di&s;ciple; or, the di&s;ci|ple whom Je&s;us loved. I conceive the di&s;ciples might &s;o &s;requently give him tho&s;e titles, either as titles of honour to &s;ignify the relation in which he &s;tood to our Lord; or becau&s;e it plea&s;ed our Saviour, that his affections to <HI>I<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">hn</HI> &s;hould be ob&s;erved, and taken notice of; probably that a &s;uitable re&s;pect might be given unto him, as the friend of Chri&s;t: for our Saviour was not a&s;ha|med to own this relation, but publickly upon the cro&s;&s;e &s;ignified it to men and angels, as will appear further in the &s;eventh and la&s;t particular&punc; but I &s;ubmit to better judgments in this matter; and only give my notion of it, and what &s;eems mo&s;t rational to me: but this is evident: our Sa|viour and <HI>Iohn</HI> had much communion, they were &s;till together in his transfiguration, conver&s;ation, and communication: he never left our Saviour while on earth: you &s;hall find him in the garden, and in the high-prie&s;ts hall, where <HI>Peter</HI> denyed him in the one and de&s;erted him in the other: he was with him at the cro&s;&s;e and at the &s;epulchre&punc; and no wonder that our Saviour delighted in the &s;ociety of that per&s;on he would take into his bo|&s;om; and <HI>Iohn</HI> was &s;o improved by this commu|nion with his Lord, that he &s;peaks and writes nothing but love, and this will appear a great confirmation of the frend&s;hip, if we compare it
<PB N="169" REF="90" MS="y"> with the frend&s;hips between ingenious men. Obferve and you &s;hall find that when frend&s;hip is in reality, it mightily &s;weetens the nature of tho&s;e per&s;ons, &s;o that they cannot endure har&s;h|ne&s;s and cro&s;&s;ne&s;s, but endeavour all things with all per&s;ons by love. Men in their communication and conver&s;ation are as much as they are with whom they conver&s;e. There are no arguments more pregnant to prove the dear and near com|munion and union between our Lord and <HI>Iohn,</HI> than the &s;trains of love that runs through all his writings, by which we may judge of the inter|cour&s;e between our Lord and him; and what manner of expre&s;&s;ions they were that pa&s;&s;ed be|tween them in their particular acts of frend&s;hip.</P>
<P>Seventhly and la&s;tly, the la&s;t argument may be drawn &s;rom our Saviours la&s;t act of frend&s;hip towards <HI>Iohn,</HI> and were &s;ufficient, had there been no more to prove this frend&s;hip, <HI>viz.</HI> his recom|mending his mother to <HI>Iohn,</HI> when he was upon the cro&s;&s;e. <HI>Iohn</HI> 19. 26. 27. and breathing out his la&s;t breath expre&s;&s;ed in this la&s;t pa&s;&s;age; <HI>woman, behold thy &s;on:</HI> and he &s;aid to the di&s;ciple whom he loved, <HI>Beheld thy mother,</HI> and from that hour that di&s;ciple took her to his own home&punc; you, &s;ee here the union that was between our Saviour and <HI>Iohn;</HI> they were brothers; though the relation of brothers preci&s;ely con&s;idered do not make friends, yet the relation of frends al|ways makes brothers; our Saviour by this charge to <HI>Iohn</HI> did imply thus much; that though his mother had lo&s;t him, &s;he had a &s;on &s;till, that was obliged to take a &s;pecial care of her upon a dou|ble
<PB N="170" REF="91"> account, partly in obedience to his dear ma&s;ter, who had laid that command upon him; but mo&s;t e&s;pecially by that tye of frend&s;hip, that was upon him: &s;o he takes his la&s;t farewell of <HI>Iohn</HI> and his mother together, expre&s;&s;ing his na|tural affection towards the one, his frend&s;hip towards the other: There is no greater evidence of frend&s;hip than this, the confidence dying per|&s;ons have in their living frends, and the tru&s;t they impo&s;e in them, as to their dear and near relations: and how &s;ecret &s;oever friends may carry it in their lives, yet at their death they de|clare to all the world, who they take to be their mo&s;t faithful friends, when they commit their deare&s;t relations to their charge, and be&s;tow their la&s;t breath upon them by a trembling farewell: we do not read that our Saviour &s;pake one word more after he had taken his &s;olemn farewel of his mother and <HI>Iohn</HI> but this; <HI>I thirst:</HI> and <HI>It is fi|ni&s;hed:</HI> Thus you &s;ee the frend&s;hip between our Saviour and <HI>Iohn</HI> clear'd. I &s;hall draw to a con|clu&s;ion of this whole di&s;cour&s;e, only give me leave to add the&s;e few words, which I hope will not be impertinent.</P>
<P>If frend&s;hip be the improvement of rea&s;on, the happine&s;&s;e of a &s;ociable &s;tate, the plea&s;ure of our Lord, then it is great pitty this relation and &s;tate of friend&s;hip is no more in credit in the world than it is, e&s;pecially among ingenious per|&s;ons, who &s;eem to mi&s;take this great ca&s;e, or think it too hard a task to accompli&s;h.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, believe that it is attainable, this is the fir&s;t &s;tep towards it; and that it is not a &s;tudy too
<PB N="172" REF="91"> mean for the greate&s;t prince in the world; and which is more, he can hardly be happy without it, if he con&s;iders the directions he may have in his weighty affairs by the wi&s;dom; the &s;afety he he may promi&s;e him&s;elf in the faithfulne&s;s, the wonderful plea&s;ure and delightful diver&s;ion he may enjoy in the &s;ociety and integrity of a &s;uita|ble friend; I cannot believe but all per&s;ons &s;eri|ous and judicious mu&s;t need ambition this capa|city, yet they do not all attain it, being po&s;&s;ibly cro&s;&s;ed by accidents unfriendly and unrea&s;onable, in their endeavours after it, the ways of vertue being &s;trewed with thorns: well, if the way be not &s;o grateful and ea&s;y, as that which is &s;en&s;ual, yet the end will be glory. Let this qui<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="MURP" EXTENT="1 letter">ken your endeavours to that end which will crown your action; and when you have obtained perfection here, you will &s;et to your &s;eal, that this is true; that you have found an experiment that can &s;we|ten you &s;orrows, divide your griefs, augment your comforts, gratify your affections, improve your religion and rea&s;on, and that capacity whereby you may live the life of angels, &s;till con|templating things that are excellent while on earth, and when you are dead, your name &s;hall be as a precious ointment powred forth &s;weet and plea&s;ant to all po&s;terity; like <HI>Abel, who being dead, yet &s;peaketh.</HI></P>
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<P>PAge 7. line 3. for <HI>are</HI> reade <HI>is.</HI> p. 8. l. 33. for <HI>&s;ome</HI> r. <HI>&s;omething.</HI> p. 10. l. 14. for <HI>hath</HI> r. <HI>have.</HI> p. 13. l. 17. for <HI>axes</HI> r. <HI>axis.</HI> ibid. l. 31. for <HI>warmth,</HI> r. <HI>warm.</HI> p. 20. l. 17. for <HI>the</HI> r. <HI>this.</HI> p. 22. l. 29. for <HI>as,</HI> r. <HI>or,</HI> p. 26. l. 12. for <HI>led</HI> r. <HI>are led.</HI> p. 30. l. 23. for <HI>and</HI> r. <HI>too.</HI> p. 31. l. 18. for <HI>live</HI> r. <HI>live to.</HI> p. 46. l. 26. for <HI>rea|&s;on it</HI> r. <HI>rea&s;on for it.</HI> p. 48. l. 32. dele <HI>their.</HI> p. 51. l. 2. for <HI>impudent</HI> r. <HI>imprudent.</HI> p. 51. l. 14. for <HI>is</HI> r. <HI>are.</HI> p. 65. l. 17. for <HI>that</HI> r. <HI>this.</HI> ibid. l. 28. dele <HI>and.</HI> p. 69. l. 20. r. <HI>the iron to.</HI> p. 89. l. 18. for <HI>that</HI> r. <HI>their.</HI> p. 98. l. 9. for <HI>that</HI> r. <HI>who.</HI> p. 115. l. 4. for <HI>&s;o &s;pend</HI> r. <HI>&s;u&s;pend.</HI> ibid. l. 14. dele <HI>yet.</HI> ibid. l. 33. for <HI>or</HI> r. <HI>are.</HI> p. 120. l. 25. for <HI>and</HI> r. <HI>of.</HI> p. 126. l. 2. adde <HI>are.</HI> p. 131 l. 24. dele <HI>al&s;o.</HI> p. 71. l. 10. for <HI>affectionate</HI> r. <HI>affection.</HI></P>
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