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<DATE>2014-01-22</DATE>
<RESPSTMT>
<NAME>Olivia Bottum</NAME>
<RESP>MURP</RESP>
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<ITEM>Proofed text and corrected markup.</ITEM>
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<STC T="S">3957</STC>
<STC T="C">S105996</STC>
<BIBNO T="oclc">[ocm]20025831</BIBNO>
<VID>6321</VID>
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<TEXT LANG="eng">
<FRONT>
<DIV1 TYPE="title page">
<PB REF="1">
<PB REF="1">
<P><HI>Horae Sub&s;eciuae.</HI></P>
<P>OBSERVATIONS <HI>AND</HI> DISCOVRSES.</P>
<P><FIGURE>
</FIGURE></P>
<P><HI>LONDON,</HI> Printed for <HI>Edward Blount,</HI> and are to be &s;old at his &s;hop in <HI>Pauls</HI> Churchyard, at the &s;igne of the <HI>Black Beare.</HI></P>
<P>1620.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="to the reader">
<PB REF="2">
<PB REF="2">
<HEAD>TO THE READER.</HEAD>
<P><HI>_I</HI> Take not vpon mee to write either in the prai&s;e, or di&s;commen|dation of this Booke; it belongs not vnto me; but now it is abroad, mu&s;t wholly bee &s;ubmitted to your iudgement and cen|&s;ure. And I know, it mu&s;t bee the worth of a Booke, and not the flouri|&s;hing of an Epi&s;tle, that cau&s;eth your approbation. So that this mu&s;t &s;tand, or fall in your opinion, by the weight,
<PB REF="3"> or lightne&s;&s;e that you &s;hall finde therein.</P>
<P>The Author of this Booke I know not; but by chance hearing that a friend of mine had &s;ome &s;uch papers in his hand, and hauing heard them com|mended, I was curious to &s;ee and reade them ouer; and in my opinion (which was al&s;o confirmed by others, iudicious and learned) &s;uppo&s;ed if I could get the Copie, they would be welcome a|broad. My friends courte&s;ie be&s;towed it freely vpon me, and my endeuour to giue you contentment, cau&s;ed mee to put it in print. And therfore to keepe Decorum, and follow cu&s;tome, in default of the Authors appa|rance, I pre&s;ent it to you with this &s;hort Epi&s;tle.</P>
<P>The Booke, you &s;ee, is of mixt matter, by the way of ob&s;eruations, or E&s;&s;ayes, and Di&s;cour&s;es. There
<PB REF="3"> haue beene &s;o many precedents of this kinde, and (when they haue come out of the hands of good Wri|ters) alwayes &s;o approued, that there needs no Apologie for put|ting in one Booke, &s;o different Ar|guments.</P>
<P>If the Ob&s;eruations, or E&s;&s;ayes &s;eeme long to you, becau&s;e mo&s;t that haue written in that way, haue put them in le&s;&s;e roome; for that, if the fault grow by multiplicity of words, repetition; or affected variation of Phra&s;es, then your di&s;like is well grounded. But when you haue read, and finde the length to haue procee|ded from the matter and variety, of it, I know, your opinion will ea|&s;ily alter.</P>
<P>I will hold you no longer from that, to which this but introdu|ceth: But if the Booke plea&s;e you, come
<PB REF="4"> home to my Shop, you &s;hall haue it bound ready to your hand, where in the meane time I expect you, and remaine</P>
<CLOSER><SIGNED>At your command, ED: BLOVNT.</SIGNED></CLOSER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="table of contents">
<PB REF="4">
<HEAD>OBSERVATIONS.</HEAD>
<P><TABLE>
<ROW>
<CELL>1 OF Arrogance.</CELL>
<CELL>1.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>2 <HI>Of</HI> Ambition.</CELL>
<CELL>11.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>3 <HI>Of</HI> Affectation.</CELL>
<CELL>30.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>4 <HI>Of</HI> Detraction.</CELL>
<CELL>52.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>5 <HI>Of</HI> Selfe-will.</CELL>
<CELL>74.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>6 <HI>Of</HI> Ma&s;ters <HI>and</HI> Seruants.</CELL>
<CELL>85.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>7 <HI>Of</HI> Expences.</CELL>
<CELL>103.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>8 <HI>Of</HI> Vi&s;itations.</CELL>
<CELL>114.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>9 <HI>Of</HI> Death.</CELL>
<CELL>124.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>10 <HI>Of</HI> a Country Life.</CELL>
<CELL>135.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>11 <HI>Of</HI> Religion.</CELL>
<CELL>176.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>12 <HI>Of</HI> Reading Hi&s;tory.</CELL>
<CELL>193.</CELL>
</ROW>
</TABLE></P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="table of contents">
<HEAD>DISCOVRSES.</HEAD>
<P><TABLE>
<ROW>
<CELL>1 VPon the beginning of <HI>Tacitus.</HI></CELL>
<CELL>223.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>2 Of <HI>Rome.</HI></CELL>
<CELL>325.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>3 Against <HI>Flattery.</HI></CELL>
<CELL>419.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>4 Of <HI>Lawes.</HI></CELL>
<CELL>505.</CELL>
</ROW>
</TABLE></P>
<PB REF="5">
<P> Of &s;uch errours as haue e&s;caped in the Pre&s;&s;e, I haue thought good to collect onely tho&s;e, which may bee &s;uppo&s;ed likely to trou|ble the Reader in his way, the re&s;t being few, and <HI>but literall, I hope &s;hall eyther pa&s;&s;e vnob&s;erued,</HI> or excu&s;ed.</P>
<P><TABLE>
<ROW>
<CELL ROLE="label"><HI>Page.</HI></CELL>
<CELL ROLE="label"><HI>line.</HI></CELL>
<CELL ROLE="label"><HI>fault.</HI></CELL>
<CELL ROLE="label"><HI>correction.</HI></CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>PAge 28.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 20.</CELL>
<CELL>for <HI>metire</HI></CELL>
<CELL><HI>read metiri</HI></CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 32.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 11.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> ob&s;erues</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> ob&s;erue</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 39.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 17.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> Engli&s;h</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> Engli&s;h.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag&punc; 41.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 20.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> employments</CELL>
<CELL>r. employments,</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 43.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 6.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> lea&s;t</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> mo&s;t</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 96.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 19.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> he</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> they</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 112.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 17.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> it</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> and</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 126.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 16.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> a</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> A</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 128.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 2.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> naturally</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> naturall</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 133.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 8.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> reduced &s;ome</CELL>
<CELL><HI>r.</HI> reduced to &s;ome</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 142.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 17.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"></CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> and</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 156.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 11.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> Nations</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> natures</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 173.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 3.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> altogether</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> all together</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 174.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 18.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> &s;afe:</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> &s;afe</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 184.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 14.</CELL>
<CELL>for <HI>multi neglecta</HI></CELL>
<CELL>read <HI>multa neglecti</HI></CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 193.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 11.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> detraction</CELL>
<CELL><HI>r.</HI> detraction and</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 195.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 11.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> mu&s;t</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> much.</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 221.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 4.</CELL>
<CELL>for <HI>Mutius,</HI></CELL>
<CELL>read <HI>Mutius</HI></CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 264.</CELL>
<CELL>lin&punc; 13.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> pre&s;cription</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> Pr<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">&s;crip<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="2 letters">on</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pa. 290.</CELL>
<CELL>l. 12.</CELL>
<CELL>for <HI>Tribunitiae,</HI></CELL>
<CELL>read <HI>Tribunitiae</HI></CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 319.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 5.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> hath</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> haue</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 328.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 14.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> and tho&s;e.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>r.</HI> and <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 word"> th<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">&s;e</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 422.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 2.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> vn&s;eene,</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> vn&s;<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">ene</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>Pag. 495.</CELL>
<CELL>lin. 7.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> anothey</CELL>
<CELL><HI>read</HI> another</CELL>
</ROW>
<ROW>
<CELL>p. 517.</CELL>
<CELL>l. 13.</CELL>
<CELL><HI>for</HI> &s;oule to inanimate</CELL>
<CELL><HI>r.</HI> a &s;oule to animate</CELL>
</ROW>
</TABLE></P>
</DIV1>
</FRONT>
<BODY>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="1" REF="5">
<HEAD>OF ARROGANCE.</HEAD>
<P><HI>_ARrogance,</HI> is the a&s;&s;u|ming to a mans &s;elfe, the Titles of Vertue, Learning, Honour, Ri|ches, or the like, without the po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ion, or (if with the po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ion) without the euidence. For not onely hee that &s;peakes of him&s;elfe more good then is true, but hee al&s;o that &s;ayes more then he is &s;ure will bee beleeued, iu&s;tly de&s;erues the name of <HI>Arrogant.</HI></P>
<P>This Vice is offen&s;iue more to equals, then to Superiors, or in|feriours, becau&s;e they be &s;eldome, the one &s;ort or the other, compe|titors
<PB N="2" REF="6"> with a man in prai&s;e: And more, when it concernes the gifts of the minde, e&s;pecially <HI>Wi&s;edome</HI> and <HI>Valour,</HI> then when it touches onely vpon the fauours of For|tune, or abilities of the body, Pre|rogatiue in the&s;e being le&s;&s;e e&s;tee|med. <HI>Nam cum omnis arrogantia odio&s;a est, tum illa ingenij at&abque; elo|quentiae mole&s;ti&s;sima. Quamobrem nihil dico de meo ingenio, &amp;c. Where|as all Arrogance is odious, that of a mans owne wit, and owne elo|quence, is mo&s;t tedious. Wherefore I will &s;peake nothing of my owne wit, &amp;c.</HI> &s;aith <HI>Cicero.</HI> Likewi&s;e it is wor&s;e in mediocrity then extremes (though in mo&s;t vices it be other|wi&s;e) becau&s;e it becomes by ex|ce&s;&s;e ridiculous rather then hate|full, and &s;o pa&s;&s;eth with better to|leration.</P>
<PB N="3" REF="6">
<P> Pretending to &s;ufficiencie, ar|gues the want of it. The claime it &s;elfe is a plaine conuiction that there wants right to the thing clai|med. For where Vertue is really, her owne light di&s;couers the ow|ner. <HI>Vino vendibili &s;u&s;pen&s;a hedera non e&s;t opus. Good Wine needs no Bu&s;h.</HI> So that hee need not bee his owne Trumpet that is truely ver|tuous, but rather hee that is not, but onely in his owne conceit: which opinion makes him al&s;o by not pur&s;uing that which hee &s;uppo&s;es he hath already obtained, to bee out of all po&s;&s;ibilitie of gai|ning the &s;ame.</P>
<P>Honour found out <HI>Cincinnatus</HI> digging in his Garden and made him <HI>Dictator.</HI> And many that in their owne di&s;po&s;itions de&s;ired to liue ob&s;curely, haue been again&s;t
<PB N="4" REF="7"> their wils expo&s;ed to the toyle of great affaires, by the lu&s;tre of that vertue which they neuer boa&s;ted. If to admire any thing argue de|fect of knowledge, much more to admire a mans &s;elfe, which al men ought be&s;t to know, and are mo&s;t familiar withall.</P>
<P>An <HI>Arrogant</HI> per&s;on, if hee ioyne in the performance of any laudable action, with men of mo|de&s;t natures, deales with them in the &s;haring of the prai&s;e, as the <HI>Lyon</HI> in the Fable did with the o|ther bea&s;ts, diuiding the prey they had taken; who making of the whole, foure parts, pleades a title to three of them at lea&s;t, and if they yeelded him not the fourth of their owne goodwill, he would bee no longer friends. And &s;uch a nature can hardly hold friend|&s;hip,
<PB N="5" REF="7"> that admitteth not the Piller thereof, which is <HI>Parity,</HI> but thinks him&s;elfe &s;uperiour to all, if not in Fortune (at which he there|fore grudges, taunts her with her blindne&s;&s;e, and rayles at her with <HI>Apothegmes,)</HI> yet in all other worth and de&s;ert.</P>
<P>Hee is &s;o puft vp, that to men in e&s;tate beneath him (for feare of contempt, which how&s;oeuer he cannot auoid) hee will neuer &s;peake familiarly, &s;eldome any way, as if there could be no greater di&s;paragement, then not to ob|&s;erue the di&s;tance which he holds to bee betwixt them. Which be|ing to the meane&s;t &s;ort vnplea|&s;ing, cau&s;eth him to want not on|ly the re&s;pect hee looketh for, as due, but euen that (if any bee &s;o) that is due indeed.</P>
<PB N="6" REF="8">
<P> Hee commonly commi&s;erates his equalls for their weakene&s;&s;es, and loues to teach, rather then learne the thing hee knowes not. Giue him but &s;uch a handle, and hee will bee &s;ure to hold it till one be weary, and will in&s;truct with &s;uch confidence, that though he produce no rea&s;on, a man mu&s;t beleeue him on his word, or hee'le be angry. If hee write or &s;peake a di&s;cour&s;e of any length, he can|not forbeare but hee mu&s;t make knowne &s;omewhat of his owne cu&s;tome, or humor, or life, With <HI>I was this, or did this, or like this, or thus am, or was wont:</HI> belike, &s;uppo|&s;ing that all men would be glad to make him the patterne of their life and actions.</P>
<P>As hee is di&s;ta&s;tfull to, &s;o he di|&s;ta&s;teth all men; for according to
<PB N="7" REF="8"> his owne e&s;timate, he mu&s;t needs hold him&s;elfe vnder-valued, euen by tho&s;e that prize him aboue his iu&s;t worth, then which nothing more vexes him. For though when him&s;elfe detracts, he thinkes the detracted ought to beare it, as a righteous cen&s;ure: yet if another be but &s;leepy in his di&s;cour&s;e, or when hee talkes, be taken from him with any bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, hee is pre|&s;ently grieued thereat, as a high neglect.</P>
<P>If hee reade anothers writings, hee findes &s;omewhat to correct, but nothing to pray&s;e, and &s;o in their actions. Him&s;elfe being in his owne Iudgement beyond cen|&s;ure. If hee meete with one of his owne nature, there's pre&s;ently warres, and it will appeare that he dete&s;ts him&s;elfe in the per&s;on of
<PB N="8" REF="9"> his enemy, more then another can do him in his owne. But meeting with mode&s;ty, hee deuoures it, makes it his prey, and nouri&s;h|eth his <HI>Arrogance</HI> with &s;uch food; for what&s;oeuer the one &s;hall in mode&s;ty lay from him&s;elfe, the other will take, and yet thinke too little.</P>
<P>But it is be&s;t when hee encoun|ters a cunning Flatterer, for &s;uch a one will &s;purre him on, and blow his folly vp to madne&s;&s;e, and &s;et him out to the laughter of them hee mo&s;t contemned. Or as the Foxe &s;erued the Crow, make him to let fall the meate from his mouth with attempt|ing to &s;ing. Or put him forward to &s;eeke an emploiment, which hee, not knowing his owne &s;trength, will bee alwayes ready to take
<PB N="9" REF="9"> vpon him, and &s;o ruine him. For &s;uch a one will not feare to vn|dergoe, what hee does not vn|der&s;tand. All which be the fitte&s;t traps for this Vice.</P>
<P>Some are <HI>Arrogant</HI> (as one may &s;ay) indirectly, and will extoll &s;uch a man in &s;uch a faculty, as the hea|rers allow him to be better in, then the party &s;o by him prai&s;ed. But it comes all to one purpo&s;e; for the face of <HI>Arrogance,</HI> how&s;oeuer pain|ted, is not without deformitie. Yet I would not wi&s;h a man to bee &s;o much affrighted with it, as to &s;tart to the contrary vice <HI>Pu&s;illanimitie.</HI> For a man &s;hould not derogate from him&s;elfe, there beeing too many, ready enough for that of|fice, at lea&s;t to beleeue him, as one that be&s;t knowes, what hee mo&s;t wants. And certainely hee
<PB N="10" REF="10"> that doth <HI>Sentence</HI> him&s;elfe, hath no colour for an <HI>Appeale,</HI> nor per&s;on to appeale vnto, vnle&s;&s;e it be from his words, to his deedes, which need then to bee very re|markeable. How&s;oeuer, he mu&s;t acknowledge it to bee great folly, to haue denyed that ability in him|&s;elfe, which hee de&s;ires to haue made knowne.</P>
<P>But &s;uch men bee &s;eldome found, that &s;ay not of them&s;elues full as much as they can doe.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="11" REF="10">
<HEAD>Of Ambition.</HEAD>
<P>IT is an vnlimited de&s;ire, neuer &s;atisfied. A continuall proiect|ing without &s;top. An vndefati|gable &s;earch of tho&s;e things wee wi&s;h for, though want not. No contentment in a pre&s;ent &s;tate, though fortunate, and pro&s;pe|rous.</P>
<P>An <HI>Ambitious</HI> man is in a kinde of continuall perambulation, or perpetuall courting of aduance|ment, not re&s;pecting the meanes, <HI>Bribery, Flattery, Humility, Popu|laritie, &s;eeming Seueritie or Au&s;tere|ne&s;&s;e.</HI> Any of which, &s;o they con|ferre, and conduce to his owne ends, whether for Titles, or Pre|eminence, or E&s;timation, &s;hall bee di&s;gui&s;es good enough for
<PB N="12" REF="11"> the pre&s;ent occa&s;ion.</P>
<P>The <HI>Scripture</HI> &s;aith, <HI>Qui&s;e exal|tat, humiliabitur. Who&s;oeuer exalts him&s;elfe, &s;hall be humbled.</HI> Not hee that is worthily exalted by others, and who&s;e merits bee the cau&s;e of his ri&s;ing, but he that will <HI>Ambiti|ou&s;ly</HI> exalt him&s;elfe, hee &s;hall bee aba&s;ed.</P>
<P>That di&s;po&s;ition, which is natu|rally infected, with this Lepro&s;ie (which is a &s;preading di&s;ea&s;e) can not fore&s;ee the ineuitable dangers and euents, that be incident there|vnto. <HI>Phauorinus</HI> &s;peaking of the&s;e kinde of men, &s;aid they were ey|ther ridiculous, or hatefull, or mi|&s;erable. A&s;piring ambitiou&s;ly to places beyond their worth, makes them &s;corned: obtaining, hated: and mi&s;&s;ing of their hopes, wret|ched.</P>
<PB N="13" REF="11">
<P> If the current of their <HI>Ambition</HI> bee once &s;topped, like an impetu|ous torrent, it beates and breakes the bankes, growes dangerous, and many times cau&s;es inundations. Therfore Princes re&s;pects, if they be fixed vpon &s;uch natures, are ty|ed not only to a continuation, but an addition of fauors; for the lea&s;t &s;urcea&s;e makes declination in &s;er|uice. So that the&s;e di&s;po&s;itions &s;hould bee auoyded: if di&s;couered, &s;eque&s;tred from imployment, as pernicious and incendiary.</P>
<P><HI>Ambition</HI> was the fir&s;t temptation by which the Diuell wrought vp|on our fir&s;t Parents, to encite them to a de&s;ire of knowing good and euill equally with God.</P>
<P>It is a &s;trange in&s;inuating affec|tion, for who&s;oeuer is once there|with po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed, neither <HI>Rea&s;on,</HI> nor
<PB N="14" REF="12"> <HI>Impediment,</HI> nor <HI>Impo&s;&s;ibility</HI> can &s;tay his extrauagant de&s;ires. For though <HI>Nabuchadnezzar</HI> enioyed all greatne&s;&s;e po&s;&s;ibly incident to man, yet his <HI>Ambition</HI> &s;topt not, he would be wor&s;hipped as God. It was not <HI>Vertue</HI> nor <HI>Rea&s;on</HI> that coun&s;elled <HI>Sylla</HI> and <HI>Marius, Pom|pey</HI> and <HI>Cae&s;ar,</HI> to enterpri&s;e their dome&s;tique warres, but a di&s;ordi|nate loue of flattering <HI>Ambition;</HI> being in their owne opinions not great enough, which cau&s;ed the ruine both of them&s;elues &amp; Coun|trey. And as this was theirs, &s;o it is the generall and principall motiue to all &s;editious, and trecherous at|tempts. But the&s;e men whil&s;t they to&s;&s;e all, bee them&s;elues mo&s;t &s;ha|ken, and inwardly feele the torture of this pernicious fury, wherewith they haue offended others. There|fore
<PB N="15" REF="12"> it is <HI>Apocrypha</HI> to thinke that any man can become truely happy by the way of an other mans mi&s;|fortune, if for his owne particular hee be the contriuer.</P>
<P>When <HI>Ambition</HI> &s;eazeth vpon a man, peraduenture his fir&s;t ayme will be but vpon de&s;ignes within his reach, or fit for his capacity, which if obtained, is the way to conduct him to higher cogitati|ons, and &s;o by degrees, from &s;tep to &s;tep, the more <HI>Ambition</HI> is fed, the more appetite it hath.</P>
<P>It is in a kinde the Ape or imita|ter of <HI>Charity,</HI> &s;aith a <HI>Father;</HI> for <HI>Charity</HI> endures all things for <HI>Eter|nall, Ambition</HI> for <HI>Tran&s;itory</HI> happi|ne&s;&s;e. That is liberall to the poore, this to the rich. The one &s;uffers for <HI>Verity,</HI> the other for <HI>Vanity.</HI> So they both beleeue all things, and
<PB N="16" REF="13"> hope for all things, but in a diffe|rent kinde.</P>
<P>I cannot more fitly re&s;emble an <HI>Ambitious</HI> man, then to one that &s;hould haue a fancy, to take a iour|ney Ea&s;t-ward, to the place where the Sun &s;eems in ri&s;ing to touch &amp; to be ioyned to the earth, in hope to arriue within the reach of the &s;ame, alwayes going forward, but not comming neerer to his de&s;ire; &s;till progre&s;&s;iue, neuer at an end, being impo&s;&s;ible to fini&s;h it, but the fur|ther that he goes, the more earne&s;t he is and impatient of protraction, and delayes. So that I may con|clude &s;uch natures to be puni&s;hed with <HI>Tantalus</HI> torture, of whom it is &s;aid, that that he de&s;ired, euer &s;ee|med to bee neere him, yet neuer within his command.</P>
<P>Some haue &s;imilized the&s;e kind
<PB N="17" REF="13"> of men with the <HI>Camelion.</HI> As that hath nothing in the body be&s;ides the lungs: &s;o the badge of <HI>Ambiti|on,</HI> is only windy, and boy&s;terous o&s;tentation.</P>
<P>It is a dangerous thing for men to loue too much, or thinke too well of them&s;elues. The &s;elfe-louer is the Arch-flatterer. Wi&s;dome and caution may auoid the in&s;inuatio~s of other men, but when a man be|gins to admire and applaud him|&s;elfe, there is no defence. Therefore this partiall e&s;timation, or fal&s;e gla&s;&s;e of a mans owne worth and merit, is the true cau&s;e of <HI>Ambition.</HI> In, or by this wee looke vpon our &s;elues with our owne eyes, which are &s;o quick-&s;ighted in di&s;cerning and reading the infirmities of o|thers, that they turne dimme when they reflect vpon our &s;elues, accor|ding
<PB N="18" REF="14"> to the <HI>Scripture. A moate is ea&s;ily &s;pyed in the eye of our neigh|bour, but a beame in our owne is hardly vi&s;ible.</HI></P>
<P>Next to this Idolizing of a mans &s;elfe, I cannot &s;euer it from the company of <HI>Enuy.</HI> For as the nature of <HI>Ambition</HI> is to commi&s;erate our &s;elues, for that wee &s;eemingly want or de&s;ire: &s;o when wee &s;ee ano|ther man po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed of that, that our endeuours a&s;pired vnto, pre&s;ent|ly <HI>Enuy</HI> breaks forth, priuately ma|ligning, publikely detracting what we can, both from his per&s;on, and actions.</P>
<P>Againe, if a <HI>Vacancie</HI> &s;hould hap|pen of that place, wherevpon our whole cour&s;e hath beene bent, then if another &s;tep betwixt vs, and home, <HI>Ambition</HI> changes into a malicious, and violent hatred a|gain&s;t
<PB N="19" REF="14"> him that po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth again&s;t his friends that oppo&s;ed vs, and a|gain&s;t the giuer, that conferred, or be&s;towed it. And then vpon this we grow auer&s;e, and &s;ullen in all our actions, and venter vpon any mi&s;chiefe of the highe&s;t degree, or large&s;t extent.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides the&s;e, it is impo&s;&s;ible for an Ambitious man to iudge, and e&s;timate the parts, and qualities of another, in re&s;pect of his owne: for his opinionated &s;ufficiency makes him vndervalue, and his malice, to vndermine euery man be&s;ides, and either to find, or out of his malignity to faine what&s;oeuer is done contrary, or vnknowing to him, to be deficient.</P>
<P>But if it happen (as it doth rare|ly) that their owne con&s;ciences conuince them of another mans
<PB N="20" REF="15"> de&s;ert and merit, pre&s;ently they &s;u&s;pect oppo&s;ition in their great|ne&s;&s;e, and that their eminency may be eclip&s;ed. Wherefore they &s;triue and &s;traine by all po&s;&s;ible inuenti|ons to put di&s;graces vpon his per|&s;on and parts, thereby to hinder his ri&s;ing. For whil&s;t he is out of im|ployment, finding that he cannot &s;o publikely expre&s;&s;e his worth, they &s;till labour to keep him in ob|&s;curity, to the end that them&s;elues may &s;eeme and appeare more glo|rious.</P>
<P>But if this emulation happen be|twixt them and one of as publike note, or equall e&s;timation with them&s;elues, then in all ioynt acti|ons and con&s;ultations, they will endeuour to take from him, and adde as much to them&s;elues in the opinion of the world, as either in|du&s;try
<PB N="21" REF="15"> or Art can deui&s;e. Which kind of contention is pernici|ous to all well-ordred Common|wealths. For when euery one &s;eeks to be principall, or to engro&s;&s;e all within his owne Circumference, and to compa&s;&s;e the re&s;t with &s;ub|iection, or affects to make him&s;elfe the encrea&s;ing figure, whil&s;t the re&s;t &s;erue but for &s;upplyes, faction in bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, confu&s;ion in directi|ons, do nece&s;&s;arily follow.</P>
<P>And what be the&s;e men that &s;o extremely affect Superiority, and Primacy in all affaires? Do they good to the Publike, or is their &s;er|uice equiualent to their prefer|ment? Do they &s;hew by their acti|ons that this was the principal mo|tiue that cau&s;ed them to de&s;ire greatne&s;&s;e? No. For an <HI>Ambitious</HI> man, &s;o &s;oone as he is aduanced, re|members
<PB N="22" REF="16"> no more the <HI>duty,</HI> but the <HI>precedency</HI> of his place.</P>
<P>Some of this &s;ort that thinke them&s;elues mo&s;t cunning in their trade, will not plainly profe&s;&s;e <HI>Am|bition,</HI> but maske, or &s;hadow it with other colours, whereby they hope they may more &s;afely pa&s;&s;e, vnde&s;cried, vndi&s;couered. They will propound their owne merit and ability, or defect in others, and prote&s;t they haue no particular ends, but publike reformation; for which only cau&s;e, they are content to deuote, and enthrall them&s;elues; when the truth is, the &s;purre that pricks them forward to the&s;e de|&s;ignes, is glory, and command a|boue others.</P>
<P>Therfore there is no way to keepe this de&s;ire concealed, but vt|terly to extingui&s;h it.</P>
<PB N="23" REF="16">
<P> If we doe but view the&s;e men that haue their de&s;ires, and enioy their wi&s;hes, certainly we &s;hould not think it &s;o glorious, and happy a thing, as it is giuen out for. Vexati|on, and trouble continually attend it. And be&s;ides they bee not much more burthen&s;ome to o|thers, then grieuous to them&s;elues. Long to continue at the height, is &s;eldome &s;eene. Extraordinary fa|uours be vncertaine, and &s;lippe|ry. Retire they cannot without &s;taggering, nor de&s;cend, if not precipitately. Light burdens bee ea&s;ily taken on, or ca&s;t off, without feeling; but if wee bee ouer-loaden, wee &s;eldome faile but fall or &s;inke. And no man proceeds &s;o happily, but &s;ometimes hee is cro&s;t, the tra|uels and wayes of this life be &s;o
<PB N="24" REF="17"> mixt and confu&s;ed. Therefore <HI>Am|bitious</HI> men had need prefixe a cer|taine limit to their increa&s;e, and not to attend the retyring of For|tune.</P>
<P>To affect &s;uperiority aboue o|thers, when a mans de&s;ire is pre|dominant ouer his rea&s;on, argues di&s;temper and weakene&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>Some great men that haue, or haue had great Offices, complaine of the paines and vexation they &s;uffer, or haue &s;uffered, with the weight &amp; burthen of their charge, being worn in yeeres, and decayed both in &s;pirit and &s;trength. If there|fore according to this they would, or could haue beene content to withdraw, or retire them&s;elues, in re&s;pect of weakne&s;&s;e and debility, from Publique affayres, it would haue expre&s;&s;ed an excellent tem|per,
<PB N="25" REF="17"> and moderation. But few &s;uch voluntaries bee found. The traines of <HI>Ambition, Profit,</HI> and <HI>Pompe,</HI> de|taine them, and while&s;t they &s;ay they hate the trouble, they &s;hew by continuing, that they adore the glory, and gaine that fol|lowes it.</P>
<P>But le&s;t we may confound <HI>Am|bitious,</HI> with worthy de&s;ires, take the&s;e few differences, or di&s;tincti|ons. For the de&s;ire of glory in it &s;elfe is not ill, but it is the exce&s;&s;e, or defect that makes it &s;o. The meane betweene both cannot be expre&s;t in one word, yet is commendable and allowed for a Vertue. So &s;aith <HI>Ari&s;totle, Laudatur habitus qui mo|dum adhibet in expectanda gloria, eti|am&s;i uacet nomine.</HI> Shewing the af|fecting of glory to be matter both of Vertue, and Vice, according as
<PB N="26" REF="18"> it is gouerned, as well as any other pa&s;&s;ion of the minde.</P>
<P>The vndergoing, or vnderta|king of Publique bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, &s;o it be more for the generall good, then a mans priuate re&s;pect, is euer pro|fitable to the Common-wealth; but to affect it too much in any kind what&s;oeuer, is alwayes taken in the wor&s;t &s;en&s;e.</P>
<P>For men of place, or Fauorites to bee zealous in the &s;treame, or generall cour&s;e of bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, is commendable, but to be violent, or &s;ingular, in the particulars, vn|&s;ufferably dangerous.</P>
<P>To de&s;ire precedency aboue o|thers in re&s;pect of ones &s;eruice, or merit, is a good emulation. <HI>Nam honos alit artes, omne&s;&abque; incenduntur ad &s;tudia gloria,</HI> &s;aith <HI>Cicero.</HI> For ad|uancement nouri&s;heth Learning,
<PB N="27" REF="18"> and all men are enflamed to &s;tudy, by the hope of honour and glory &s;ub&s;equent. But to a&s;pire vnto it without either, intolerable Arro|gance.</P>
<P>To bee hunting after all prefer|ment, to follow euery &s;hadow, &s;hewes a man to be incon&s;tant, and expre&s;&s;eth leuity: but to refu&s;e Ho|nor when it is offered, which as <HI>Se|neca</HI> &s;aith, is <HI>Fructus verae virtutis hone&s;ti&s;simus,</HI> the hone&s;te&s;t reward of Vertue, argues <HI>Pu&s;illanimity.</HI></P>
<P>If a man &s;eeke or labour to at|taine fauour, and preferment, with this onely intention, that by that way, he may haue better meanes to doe good, to reduce ill Cu&s;tome, to the mo&s;t ancient, and commen|dable formes, and to amend brea|ches, or intru&s;ions, or decayes, with particular re&s;pect to this,
<PB N="28" REF="19" MS="y"> without the lea&s;t tincture of vaine-glory, or any other &s;elfe-de&s;ire, this kinde of <HI>Ambition</HI> I admit as a Ver|tue, and in this ca&s;e, I allow it to be generous.</P>
<P>Our fir&s;t thoughts &s;hould be to make our &s;elues worthy to receiue dignity, and employment; the&s;e|cond, that the world &s;hould haue a good e&s;timation, and opinion of our merit; and (that which ge|nerally with others is the fir&s;t) with vs &s;hould be the third, fruiti|on of that wee thinke our &s;elues able to di&s;charge, and the world thinkes vs worthy to enioy, and not that which our priuat re&s;pects, and particular Ambition makes vs forward to de&s;ire. According to <HI>Pliny</HI> in an Epi&s;tle: <HI>Omnia metir <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> dig|nitate malim quam ambitione.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Scientia quae e&s;t remota &agrave; iu&s;titia,</HI>
<PB N="29" REF="19"> <HI>calliditas potius quam &s;apientia e&s;t appellanda,</HI> &s;aith <HI>Plato.</HI> Knowledge &s;eparated from that which is vp|right, is rather called craft, then wi&s;edome. So a mind that is pre|pared and ready for any great acti|on, neuer &s;o worthy, or full of hazzard, if the inducement to this be onely his owne particular ends, or profit, and not the publike, or common good, this certainly is better termed in him impudent and ra&s;h <HI>Ambition,</HI> then either Va|lor, or Vertue.</P>
<P>To conclude, men that haue good aymes and ends in a&s;piring, are not &s;o expre&s;&s;ely Votaries to the Publique, as that they bee &s;e|cluded (by hone&s;t and iu&s;t wayes, free from &s;candall, importunitie, vexation, and tax) euen by the meanes of the pre&s;ent fauour, and
<PB N="30" REF="20"> place they enioy, to rai&s;e or en|crea&s;e their Fortune<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">, to honor and aduance their Po&s;teritie, &s;o it bee done with moderation, and mode&s;tie.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<HEAD>Of Affectation.</HEAD>
<P>AFFECTATION is an o|uer-&s;erious loue, to ordina|rie, and minute qualities: or, the putting on the abiliments of &s;ufficiencie on the body of <HI>Pride.</HI></P>
<P>It is a vanity, that &s;hame forbids to bee acknowledged, yet folly permits not to be concealed. For how&s;oeuer a man may appeare to him&s;elfe more complete, and full, in the ve&s;timents of Vertue, by their largene&s;&s;e; yet in the eye of another, their di&s;proportion will make him &s;eeme the more &s;lender.
<PB N="31" REF="20"> None being fit to weare the coat of <HI>Hercules,</HI> but &s;uch as haue &s;trength to weild his club. Nor &s;hall he euer bee thought to haue <HI>Cae&s;ars</HI> &s;pirit, that much careth to &s;cratch his head like him with one finger.</P>
<P>It argues a de&s;ire of honour, but no action towards it: for what&s;oeuer the wi&s;hes of one that v&s;eth affectation ayme at, yet his attempts reach no higher then to the imitation of certaine ge|&s;tures, and manners of &s;peech, which being comely, facile, and naturall, as they haue the &s;econd place to reall Vertue; &s;o if they be vn&s;uteable, forced, or counterfet, they come no le&s;&s;e neere to Vice, and dimini&s;h more the e&s;timation, then &s;ome great crimes.</P>
<P>For whereas &s;ome &s;uch vices
<PB N="32" REF="21" MS="y"> as be notorious, make a man more welcome into &s;ome &s;ocieties, and &s;ome make him to be feared. This vanity cau&s;eth him to bee de&s;ired in no company, but &s;corned, and contemned in all.</P>
<P>I e&s;teeme it a great vexation to &s;ee one affect a grauity in behaui|our, as hee will looke vpon you with the &s;tayedne&s;&s;e of a <HI>Statue,</HI> and ob&s;erue<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> a &s;et di&s;tance be|tweene euery word, like the Ima|ges that &s;trike the Clocke at euery quarter. And &s;ome againe with more ge&s;ticulations then an Ape, to &s;eeme to daunce about you. Some will carry their heads as if they v&s;ed a bridle, and &s;ome &s;o loo&s;ely, as if they needed one. Some had rather bee lame of a hand, then not &s;eeme &s;o, that they may weare a Scarfe. Or of a legge,
<PB N="33" REF="21"> then lo&s;e the grace of carrying a French &s;ticke.</P>
<P>It appeares mo&s;t in &s;ome that returne from Trauelling, who be|ing vncapable of other proficiency by their ob&s;eruations of gouern|ments of Nations, &s;ituation of Countreys, di&s;po&s;itions of People, their Policy, and the like, the&s;e things not vnder&s;tanding, or not knowing how to apply, which to the bettering of our iudgement, and manners, is the right v&s;e of all we finde either in reading, or tra|uell, they in their &s;tead bring home onely fa&s;hions of behauiour, and &s;uch outward apparances, that a man mu&s;t gue&s;&s;e they haue trauel|led (for there is no other way) by a <HI>Legge,</HI> or a <HI>Peccadill,</HI> or a <HI>Pieade|uant,</HI> or a new block, or a mangled &s;ute, or words all complement, and
<PB N="34" REF="22"> no &s;en&s;e, or mincing of their owne language, or making new and ab&s;urd deriuations, &s;uch as yet the world neuer heard of: or in euery period of their di&s;cour&s;e, to &s;ay &s;omething of <HI>Paris,</HI> and <HI>Orleans, Bloys,</HI> and <HI>Tours,</HI> and then con|clude that the Riuer of <HI>Loire</HI> is the mo&s;t nauigable of the world; or to talke of their Mi&s;tre&s;&s;es, and pro|te&s;t that the French <HI>Damoi&s;elle</HI> is the mo&s;t courtly, mo&s;t complete, and for exqui&s;itene&s;&s;e in behauiour and fa&s;hion, may be a pattern to all the Ladies of <HI>Europe:</HI> and from hence they will take occa&s;ion, to fall into a digre&s;&s;ion of their loues, and to tell what hazzards they haue pa&s;t, with the Wife of &s;uch a Merchant, or the Daughter of &s;uch a Gouernour, or Mi&s;tris of &s;uch a Prince.</P>
<PB N="35" REF="22">
<P> All which fa&s;hions, ob&s;eruati|ons &amp; wonders, be collected with being a few moneths in <HI>France.</HI> And thence being wafted ouer, the fir&s;t man they meet, is &s;ure to know (if this halfe yeere in <HI>France</HI> hath not made them to forget their Engli&s;h tongue) the dan|gerou&s;ne&s;&s;e of their pa&s;&s;age, how neere &s;hipwracke they were, and talke as learnedly and &s;eriou&s;ly of <HI>Nauigation,</HI> onely by the experi|ence they haue gotten in this dou|ble pa&s;&s;age in a little Barke, to and fro, as the be&s;t Captaine can doe that hath been three times in the Ea&s;t-Indies.</P>
<P>But all the&s;e things before re|hear&s;ed, and diuers more of the &s;ame kinde, are not onely their fir&s;t month, or halfe yeeres imita|tion, and di&s;cour&s;e vpon their re|turne,
<PB N="36" REF="23"> but continue to their dying day.</P>
<P>At <HI>London</HI> being arriued, they are &s;ure to make their fir&s;t apparance with their la&s;t &s;ute vpon the Stage, there practice, their com|plement and courte&s;ies vpon all their acquaintance, make three or foure forced faces, thence vpon their <HI>Curtoe,</HI> with a Page and two Lacqueys all in a Liuery, goe to the Tauerne, finde fault with all the Wine, and yet be drunke: in which di&s;gui&s;e they po&s;t to their Si&s;ters, or Aunts, or Grandmother, where they will bee admired for their ab&s;urdities, and almo&s;t made madder then they are by their prai&s;es.</P>
<P>The&s;e be affected <HI>Mon&s;ieurs:</HI> but they that pa&s;&s;e the Mountaines, and leaue all this leuitie behinde
<PB N="37" REF="23"> them, what doe they ob&s;erue? How doe they returne? (I meane &s;till affected Trauellers) Of the two the wor&s;e, and the more ab|&s;urd, becau&s;e the more graue. <HI>For a light foole is alwayes more &s;ufferable then a &s;erious.</HI></P>
<P>The forced grauity of the&s;e, &s;o &s;et them forth, as any man may di&s;|couer them with halfe an eye, e&s;pe|cially hauing the dependances of an Italian Sute, Spani&s;h Hat, Milan Sword, N<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">ds in &s;tead of legs, a few &s;hrugges, <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="2 letters"> if &s;ome vermine were making a Progre&s;&s;e from one &s;houlder to another, and the like.</P>
<P>This for their out&s;ide: but their di&s;cour&s;e makes them eue|ry where ridiculous. The name of an Engli&s;h Gelding frights them, and thence they take occa&s;ion to fall into the commendation of a
<PB N="38" REF="24"> Mule or an A&s;&s;e. <HI>A Pa&s;ty of Veni|&s;on</HI> makes them &s;weat, and then &s;weare, that the onely delicacies be <HI>Mu&s;hrums,</HI> or <HI>Caueare,</HI> or <HI>Snayles.</HI> A toa&s;t in Beere or Ale driues them into Madne&s;&s;e, and &s;o to declaime again&s;t the ab&s;urd, and igno|rant cu&s;tomes of their owne Countrey, and therevpon di|gre&s;&s;e into the commendation of drinking their Wine refre&s;hed with Ice, or Snow. So that tho&s;e things which in other Countries be v&s;ed for nece&s;&s;ity, they in their own will continue, to &s;hew their &s;ingularity.</P>
<P>It were not hard in this di&s;|cour&s;e to point out the men, and it were a good deed to giue you their names, that they may bee publiquely knowne, le&s;t &s;ome ignorant of their man|ners,
<PB N="39" REF="24"> bee by their out&s;ide mi&s;|ledde to admire them. But this may &s;uffice, by which you may &s;ee, that the leuity of the <HI>French,</HI> and grauitie of the <HI>Tran&s;alpine</HI> Traueller, bee equally ill in the way of imitation; for nothing can &s;hew well that is forced. Be&s;ides that, they imitate but imperfectly, and with le&s;&s;e grace, like the Stars, that &s;hew vs the Sunnes light, but with le&s;&s;e &s;plendor.</P>
<P>And they &s;o extremely loue to be thought well dyed into <HI>Italian</HI> and <HI>French,</HI> as their eyes are of|fended at what&s;oeuer hath any colour of Engli&s;h. And to be e&s;tee|med familiarly acquainted with o|ther Countries, will &s;eeme, and thinke it an honor to haue forgot|ten both the fa&s;hions, &amp; language of their owne.</P>
<PB N="40" REF="25">
<P> But one &s;ort of affectate Tra|uellers yet remaine, and they be the &s;eeming <HI>State&s;men</HI> of the time, empty bladders repleate with no|thing but winde, &s;uch as being a|broad, though it be but in &s;ome butter Town of Holland, wil make their fir&s;t enquiry after &s;uch as pro|fe&s;&s;e to reade Theorie of Stati&s;me; fellowes that &s;warm in mo&s;t places abroad, e&s;pecially in <HI>Germany,</HI> or tho&s;e places where the <HI>Dutch</HI> mo&s;t v&s;ually frequent, that nation be|ing ea&s;ie and apt to be gulled by the&s;e Impo&s;tors; beggerly Chea|ters, that will no &s;ooner vndertake to teach, but the&s;e co~&s;tantly belieue to learne. In the &s;pace of &s;ixe moneths (for that is the longe&s;t time &s;trangers v&s;e abroad to &s;tay in one place) they will make them able, and when the time is pa&s;t,
<PB N="41" REF="25"> they will &s;o beleeue them&s;elues to be, or peraduenture &s;ooner (they are &s;o fruitfull in their owne con|ceits) that they may declare their abilities to be fit for the employ|ment of the greate&s;t Prince, State, or affaire in the world.</P>
<P>And this wonder by their pro|fe&s;&s;or of State, is thus miracu|lou&s;ly wrought by reading vnto them, with &s;ome mo&s;t pittifull ob|&s;eruations of their owne, and di|uers repetitions of the &s;ame things, as they v&s;e to deale with Schoole|boyes, a piece of <HI>Gallo-Belgicus.</HI> Some di&s;cour&s;e in <HI>Te&s;oro politico,</HI> a part of <HI>Sleyden</HI> with <HI>Pezelius</HI> notes, or the like, as, if by reading onely, a man could apt him&s;elfe for publike employment &s;uch a Ma&s;ter, &s;uch a Reader, &s;uch fragments, &s;o &s;hort a time would enable him therevnto.</P>
<PB N="42" REF="26">
<P> Following this in all places where they come, the very name of a <HI>Manu&s;cript</HI> raui&s;heth them, though it bee but copied out of &s;ome ab&s;urd booke, printed the la&s;t Mart; which once knowne, as it will be, by their often enquiry for <HI>things</HI> of that kinde, (any thing, it's no matter what, neither doe they know more then in generall the name of a <HI>Manu&s;cript)</HI> few mornings pa&s;&s;e, that &s;ome poore Scribe or other doth not coozen them in that kinde.</P>
<P>Meeting with any of their owne Nation, they will endeuour to make them beleeue that they are as well acquainted with the coun|&s;ell, proiects, and policies of that State or Court where they liue, as any that be there, though of the highe&s;t employment. They will
<PB N="43" REF="26" MS="y"> tell what wayes they haue found out in Cyphring, and what charge they haue been at for Intelligence, which is demon&s;trated by hauing &s;ome papers wauing in their hands, though emptie, or at lea&s;t but filled with their Ho&s;ts la&s;t ac|count.</P>
<P>They will prote&s;t their entire|ne&s;&s;e and inwardne&s;&s;e with the men of the greate&s;t name and employment in tho&s;e parts, though peraduenture they neuer &s;aw their faces, nor neuer heard them &s;po|ken of, but by a <HI>Mountebanke</HI> in the <HI>Piazza.</HI></P>
<P>But for the great Ones, in their owne Country, what is it not they will &s;ay, to make vs beleeue they are with them the onely great and entire men of the world? Which familiaritie betwixt them they will
<PB N="44" REF="27"> endeuour to expre&s;&s;e by &s;hewing their names to letters, though counterfaite, and Coppies of letters they pretend they haue writ to them, though neuer &s;ent.</P>
<P>They will further tell you, that they are ab&s;ent thus long abroad, (the State at home ta|king knowledge of their abi|litie) becau&s;e they would yet re&s;erue &s;ome libertie to them|&s;elues, and not bee wholly ta|ken vp (as they be &s;ure, if they were returned they &s;hould bee) with publike employment.</P>
<P>And then they will returne to generalls, and &s;peake of Intenti|ons, and <HI>Treaties,</HI> and <HI>Things,</HI> where they will &s;top with a &s;hrug, or a <HI>De&s;unt nonnulla,</HI> and &s;o re|ferre you to the Starres for a con&s;equence: as if the&s;e things
<PB N="45" REF="27"> were too &s;ecret, too deepe for your knowledge, or to make you beleeue that the multiplicity of affaires and State-bu&s;ine&s;&s;e di&s;tract and trouble their minds; when God knowes, the mo&s;t that they thinke or ruminate vp|on, is to get the e&s;timation and opinion in the world, of that which they haue no colour to pre|tend to, viz. <HI>Witte.</HI></P>
<P>Againe, being abroad, they will tra~&s;late the very <HI>Gazzette,</HI> the mo&s;t ordinarie and vncertaine newes in the World, to &s;end ouer by whole bundles into England, which &s;ome particular friends of theirs, that know no more of forraigne bu&s;ines, then their letters infu&s;e in|to them, by this means are made to beleeue that the &s;enders are &s;erious, intelligent, and graue, and &s;o they
<PB N="46" REF="28"> looke too, when they come home; but thats all. And better v&s;e I know not which way to put them to, then as a &s;igne for tho&s;e things they outwardly, yet vnhand&s;omly imitate.</P>
<P>That little which they &s;peake, or thinke, or doe, &s;mels of State. For to get but the name of an employ|ment abroad, they will engage them&s;elues, their friends, and for|tunes. That is the vttermo&s;t of their Ambition.</P>
<P>But that &s;mall reputation which report gaue them heere, their owne pre&s;ence at their returne, doth vt|terly make to vani&s;h. And by this meanes, which no other way could euer bring to their knowledge, they finde the fruit of their o&s;ten|tation, and tho&s;e vaine imaginati|ons which before po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed them.
<PB N="47" REF="28"> And thus much briefly of an af|fected Stati&s;t. Now to other &s;orts.</P>
<P>It's <HI>Affectation</HI> in one, though naturally an elegant Speaker, not to de&s;cend a little to the capacitie of &s;uch as he conferres withall. For to &s;ome Country Husbandmen, one were as good &s;peake Latine, as good Engli&s;h.</P>
<P>To v&s;e, in di&s;cour&s;ing of an ordi|nary &s;ubiect, words of a high, &s;oun|ding, and Tragicke &s;traine, is as vn&s;eemelie, as walking on &s;tilts, where one may as well goe in &s;lippers.</P>
<P>Likewi&s;e Ru&s;ticitie in &s;peech, and ba&s;e popular phra&s;es, in them&s;elues &s;hew want of education, but af|fected, di&s;couer folly to boote.</P>
<P>Old Antique words, &s;uch as haue beene dead, buried, and
<PB N="48" REF="29"> rotten in the time of our Great Grand-fathers, would become the gho&s;t of <HI>Chaucer</HI> on a Stage, but not a man of the pre&s;ent time.</P>
<P>Likewi&s;e, New words, like a new Coyne, will not ea&s;ily be re|ceiued, till both their weight, and &s;tampe haue beene examined. To which may be referred the &s;ay|ing of <HI>Pomponius Marcellus,</HI> who finding fault with &s;ome thing that was &s;aid in an Oration of <HI>Tyberius Cae&s;ars, Atteius Capito</HI> contrarily af|firmed, that if it were not now La|tine, yet it would bee heereafter. That is not &s;o (&s;aith <HI>Marcellus)</HI> for though <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> can giue naturaliza|tion in the City of <HI>Rome,</HI> to men, yet he cannot doe &s;o to words. For they can neuer be admitted, till Cu&s;tome haue allowed them.
<PB N="49" REF="29"> That mu&s;t bee referred to publike v&s;ance, not to <HI>Cae&s;ars</HI> power.</P>
<P>There bee others that de|light in figures, and their words fall in, one after another like &s;equents; which they bring in, in &s;pight both of per&s;picuitie, and &s;ence. And commonly, where a &s;peech is all figures, you &s;hall finde the matter a meere Cypher.</P>
<P>Like to the&s;e, are &s;uch as out of a poore Ambition to obtaine the grace of &s;ome good and de|cent word, or Metaphore, will not &s;ticke (&s;o they may get it in|to their writing) to write that which before they neuer inten|ded, nor is perhaps to the pur|po&s;e, or to alter the whole frame of their di&s;cour&s;e. And for the
<PB N="50" REF="30"> mo&s;t part &s;uch words, as they are &s;ought with much paine, &s;o they are placed at little ea&s;e, and trouble either the matter, or the method, or the &s;tile, for want of elbow roome.</P>
<P>The wor&s;t <HI>Affectation</HI> of all o|ther, is to affect horrible oathes in &s;peech, which &s;ome doe, thinking them orname~ts, or &s;ignes of a great &s;pirit, as indeede they are &s;ignes of &s;uch a &s;pirit as they would be frigh|ted to &s;ee appeare.</P>
<P>Or telling of wonders and Mi|racles, whereby expecting to beget admiration, they carry away the re|putation of liers.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, there is a &s;ort of people, that as in all things they loue &s;in|gularity, &s;o in this, that they will &s;ub&s;cribe to no word that &s;auours not of the <HI>Catechi&s;me,</HI> accounting naturall and good Speech, as <HI>Eth|nicke,</HI>
<PB N="51" REF="30"> and vn&s;anctified: But this were better called Hypocri&s;ie then <HI>Affectation.</HI></P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="52" REF="31">
<HEAD>Of Detraction.</HEAD>
<P>IT is the tongue both of Enuy and Arrogance, which two, though they differ in their na|ture, yet concerning the good name of another, they &s;peak both one language; equally &s;triuing to dimini&s;h, or takeaway the reward of their <HI>Vertue,</HI> which is <HI>Reputation</HI> and <HI>Honour.</HI></P>
<P>This, and <HI>Charity</HI> be directly An|tipodes. The glory of the one is to couer, of the other to di&s;couer infir|mities. <HI>Charity</HI> interprets all things to the be&s;t, the other in the wor&s;t &s;en&s;e: the whole re&s;pects of the fir&s;t, are to do good to others: but in the <HI>Detractor,</HI> all things are re|ferred to him&s;elfe. Many other di&s;|&s;imilitudes might be found, but
<PB N="53" REF="31"> the&s;e &s;uffice to &s;hew how contrary they be; which at the fir&s;t view, &s;ets but an ill glo&s;&s;e vpon <HI>Detrac|tion,</HI> when it is oppo&s;ite to <HI>Charitie.</HI></P>
<P>From <HI>Contumelie,</HI> it is no other|wi&s;e di&s;tingui&s;hed, then as a thiefe on the way, from him that picks your pur&s;e, or priuily filches your goods in your ab&s;ence. The fir&s;t is more violent, but the &s;econd more frequent and more damni|fying.</P>
<P>It hath little force where vertue is eminent. For there Imputation is reuerberated, and made to re|turne on the Author, who depra|uing the fame of a man of knowne de&s;ert, workes no other effect in his hearers, then an opinion of his owne priuate malignity, like a tem|pe&s;tuous Sea, beating again&s;t a firme Rocke, which though it
<PB N="54" REF="32"> &s;hew much fury, workes no dam|mage.</P>
<P>The Detractor, to anie laudable atchieuement, will be &s;ure to finde out wrong cau&s;es, and to good things, wrong names; as if a man be liberall, hee is prodigall: if par|&s;imonious, couetous: if magnifi|cent, ambitious: if courteous, then hee is of a weake and &s;eruile &s;pirit: if graue, then proud: if con&s;ide|rate in danger, then a Coward: if valorous, ra&s;h: if &s;ilent, cunning: if a di&s;cour&s;er, then one that loues to heare him&s;elfe talke. When <HI>Iohn Bapti&s;t</HI> came <HI>neither eating, nor drinking, they &s;aid hee had a Deuill:</HI> and when our <HI>Sauiour</HI> came <HI>eating, and drinking, they &s;aid, Behold a Glut|ton, and a wine-bibber.</HI> And &s;o for|ward, that there is almo&s;t no|thing that a man can bee or doe,
<PB N="55" REF="32"> which a Detractor wil not peruert.</P>
<P>Though to prai&s;e any thing, be again&s;t his &s;tomake, yet hee will magnifie <HI>Fortune</HI> when &s;hee hath any hand in an enterpri&s;e, that <HI>Ver|tue</HI> (to which he giues the name of the confining <HI>Vice)</HI> may the le&s;&s;e appeare.</P>
<P>They are the very moths, that corrupt and canker in euery Com|mon wealth; how they worke, and weare, and eate into euery mans good name, experience witne&s;&s;eth. They bee of a poy&s;onous quality, &amp; deuourers of mens reputations, and therfore aptly de&s;cribed by the <HI>P&s;almi&s;t, Their throate is an open Se|pulcher, with their tongues haue they deceiued, the poy&s;on of A&s;ps is vnder their lips.</HI> A Sepulchre indeede: for mens fames and good reports are in a manner buried in tho&s;e
<PB N="56" REF="33"> graues, their deceitfull tongues are the in&s;truments, and the poy|&s;on vnder their lips the materialls, by which &s;o much mi&s;chiefe is wrought.</P>
<P>And wheras men that bereaue vs of our liues, do rarely pa&s;&s;e without the encou~ter of &s;ome or other con|digne puni&s;hment; &s;hall the&s;e that depriue vs of that which is ine&s;ti|mably dearer, pa&s;&s;e vnpuni&s;hed? No. For we &s;ee that publike Iu&s;tice doth often meete with <HI>Libellers,</HI> &amp; <HI>Defamers,</HI> and there is no Co~mon|wealth, or Kingdom, in which they be not branded. Neuerthele&s;&s;e an|ciently, and in popular States, the li|berty of euil tongs hath been more tolerated then now it is, when they haue not onely pointed at, on the Stages, but al&s;o v&s;ually named with deri&s;ion, and taunts, the men of
<PB N="57" REF="33"> greate&s;t dignitie, and that in pre|&s;ence of them&s;elues &s;o touched. And indeede in manie Common|wealthes, it hath beene a bridle to the lice~tiou&s;ne&s;&s;e of Greatne&s;&s;e, in their morall conuer&s;ation, though that were but an euill remedie. But in a Monarchie, the &s;ame would but haue beene as a &s;purre to &s;editions and tumults. For it is not &s;o much euery particular man that &s;uffers by the&s;e mens rancor, and malice, as the whole Fabricke of the Republike.</P>
<P>The actions of great men, their liues, their orders, be mo&s;t &s;euerely and &s;trictly viewed. That which they do for the publike, the&s;e will pretend to bee done for priuate ends. If things according to former con&s;ultation &s;ucceed wel, they wil take the prai&s;e wholly from them,
<PB N="58" REF="34"> and be&s;towe it vpon chance; if o|therwi&s;e, they will take it from chance, and lay it wholly vpon their con&s;ultations. In briefe, they will mi&s;con&s;true and mi&s;-apply all manner of acts, and what&s;oeuer tends to the peace, and good of the State, they with their be&s;t &s;ub|tilties will oppo&s;e, but how&s;oeuer, di&s;approue.</P>
<P>In which re&s;pect they iu&s;tly de|&s;erue the puni&s;hment that is layd vpon them, <HI>Eccle&s;ia&s;ticus</HI> 28. <HI>ver&s;e</HI> 13, 14. <HI>Cur&s;e the whi&s;perer and dou|ble-tongued, for &s;uch haue de&s;troyed many that were at peace. The backbi|ting tongue hath di&s;quieted many, and driuen them from Nation to Nation. Strong Cities hath it pulled downe, and ouerthrowne the hou&s;es of great men.</HI> This &s;o fully touches the danger that the greate&s;t men, and Nations
<PB N="59" REF="34"> fall into, by &s;uffering this kinde of people, that I need not in this point further to illu&s;trate it.</P>
<P>In the next place it will not bee ami&s;&s;e by way of example, to &s;hew that by this meanes, the wor&s;t cau&s;es doe alwaies &s;et them&s;elues of, in di&s;grace of the better, which rule will neuer faile. One in&s;tance I will giue. The <HI>Separati&s;ts,</HI> or <HI>San|ctified,</HI> as they terme them&s;elues, what doctrine haue they more fre|quent, what point more vrged, then for the propagation, as they &s;ay, of the holy cau&s;e. Fir&s;t, with the <HI>Phari&s;e</HI> to magnifie them&s;elues, and their own opinions, then with termes vnfit to be heard, talke of Eccle&s;ia&s;ticall functions, Ceremo|nie, and Gouernment, with that di&s;daine and reproch, that they graffe in their followers &s;uch an o|pinion
<PB N="60" REF="35"> again&s;t them, that they thinke all of the contrary opinion, children of Perdition, in the &s;tate of Damnation, &s;onnes of <HI>Belial,</HI> vn|&s;anctified, lewd, profane, and vn|godly per&s;ons. But leauing this path that hath been &s;o often bea|ten, let vs view it in other co|lours.</P>
<P>Commonly if hee heare any man out of di&s;content, or chol|ler, let &s;lip a word to the <HI>derogati|on</HI> of another, he pre&s;ently takes his aduantage, and his <HI>Exordium</HI> thence, for &s;ome malicious Orati|on. Which with that per&s;on con|firmes the ill opinion already con|ceiued, &s;trengthens his malice, in|crea&s;eth his hate, and makes him glory with him&s;elfe, that hee goes not alone, but hand in hand with other company in his erroneous
<PB N="61" REF="35"> conceits, and that which priuate re&s;pects made him formerly to di&s;like, that now hee thinkes the others merits might as well pro|uoke.</P>
<P>By this artifice the Detractor would bee thought but a &s;econd in the point, whereas hee is in|deed the fir&s;t, or rather onely de|prauer.</P>
<P>Sometimes hee will profe&s;&s;e loue to a per&s;on, whom notwith|&s;tanding for truth and &s;incerities cau&s;e, hee will pretend not to be a|ble to prai&s;e, and &s;o fall into an inqui&s;ition of his life, and man|ners, like the fellow in <HI>Horace.</HI></P>
<Q>Me Capitolinus conuictore v&s;us, amico-Que &agrave; puero e&s;t, cau&s;a&abque; mea permulta rogatus Fecit, &amp; incolumis laetor quod viuit in vrbe. Sed tamen admiror quo pacto Indicium illud Fugerit. Hic nigrae &s;uccus loliginis, haec e&s;t Aerugo mera, &amp;c.</Q>
<PB N="62" REF="36">
<P> Hee deales with a man, as the &s;tone in <HI>Nabuchadnezzars</HI> dreame, mentioned in the &s;econd of <HI>Daniel,</HI> did with the great Image which it ouerthrew. But thus, it medled not with the gold, nor the &s;iluer, nor the bra&s;&s;e in the Statue; but the lower parts, the legges and feete, which were of iron and clay, tho&s;e it brake in pieces, and &s;o ruined the re&s;t. In like manner the <HI>Detractor</HI> touches not the Gold, that is, a mans Vertue, which &s;hines like it; nor the &s;iluer, which is a mans wi&s;edome, and iudgement, and re&s;embles it; nor the bra&s;&s;e, that is, a mans Nobility which gli&s;ters like it; but the iron and clay feete, that is, a mans infirmities, weake|ne&s;&s;es, errours, tho&s;e with an vn|cleane tongue they wound and &s;trike, and by that meanes ouer|throw
<PB N="63" REF="36"> his Honor and Fame in all other parts and qualities, though neuer &s;o eminent, in the meane time no body forcing him, with|out cau&s;e to vtter that truth, to the preiudice of another, that charity would haue concealed.</P>
<P>Here it will be pertinent to en|quire &s;omething touching the li|berty of cen&s;uring, with what cau|tions it is limitted, and how farre to be allowed.</P>
<P><HI>A Cen&s;urer,</HI> is more the~ any other, obnoxious to Ce~&s;ure, for he thru&s;t|eth him&s;elfe into the office of a Iudge, by which eminency he con|uerteth mens eyes on him&s;elfe: and becau&s;e hee is to be &s;uppo&s;ed le&s;&s;e faulty then the reprehended, they are therefore al&s;o inuited to a more &s;trict con&s;ideration of his life, and no le&s;&s;e, but rather much more to
<PB N="64" REF="37"> cen&s;ure him, then he another.</P>
<P>Yet vpon occa&s;ion giuen, or vr|ged, when a man is freely to &s;peake his opinion, the concealing, or co|uering, or blanching a knowne, or publique errour in any man, confirmes and &s;trengthens him that is vicious, and by this appro|uing, or at lea&s;t not blaming, in|courageth others to the like, and withall greatly darkens our owne reputation: for conniuency in this kinde, makes men beleeue, that we our &s;elues bee &s;ubiect to the &s;ame fault. But this liberty of cen|&s;uring I do thus farre onely allow, that it be among&s;t &s;uch, as do par|ticularly know that mans defor|mities, and not others that be &s;tran|gers vnto it. For then we &s;hould encrea&s;e rumor, and cau&s;e an ill o|pinion to be had of him.</P>
<PB N="65" REF="37">
<P> Next, the liberty of loue, and re|&s;pect, will freely allow a man to doe it priuately to his friend; but the~ let not any foole be his friend, le&s;t he take the benefit for an iniu|ry. And it mu&s;t be without any bitterne&s;&s;e, or &s;pleene, which will rather gall, then correct him, that we &s;o &s;peake vnto.</P>
<P>If the particular errours of any one doe, iudicially and pertinently to the cau&s;e, come in que&s;tion, there is no doubt but the blemi|&s;hes, e&s;pecially in Publique, bee to be taxed with all manner of aggra|uation: but the man, in charitie is not to bee triumphed ouer, though this cannot but reflect vp|on him. Yet humane frailety which is co~mon to vs al, is induce|ment enough, &s;o long as no pre|iudice follow by the example, to
<PB N="66" REF="38"> make the be&s;t interpretation that &s;o ill a cau&s;e, &s;o ill a man, can de|&s;erue. And certainly there is a great deale of caution, and &s;paring to be v&s;ed in this kinde of ripping vp a mans life: but if nece&s;&s;ity bring &s;uch a man before you, and that he cannot &s;cape a cen&s;ure, yet v&s;e no opprobrious, or di&s;dainfull words again&s;t him.</P>
<P>Sometimes &s;uch as haue recei|ued iniuries from a man, and in that re&s;pect be di&s;-affected to him: they will be often glad to take ad|uantage, at his life and conuer&s;ati|on, in heate and choller, by that meanes to bee reuenged of him. But though this be again&s;t the rule of Charitie, yet in the &s;tricte&s;t &s;en&s;e it cannot come within the bounds of Detraction. For the one is im|pelled, the other voluntary; a cer|taine
<PB N="67" REF="38"> habit of doing mi&s;chiefe, without cau&s;e giuen.</P>
<P>All truths be not to be &s;poken, (e&s;pecially if we receiue them but by report) but a man may bee for|ced to di&s;couer &s;uch a truth, as may preiudice another, and yet be free from <HI>Detraction.</HI></P>
<P>Sometimes a man may &s;eeke into, or di&s;couer anothers infirmi|ties, either vpon his own, or friends cau&s;e, and yet not detract, for the&s;e re&s;pects. If &s;uch a man doe an iniu|ry, it cannot but accidentally fall, in a mans Iu&s;tification, to &s;hew what a kinde of man he is, from whom he hath receiued it. Or &s;uppo&s;e a man haue a cau&s;e iudicially depen|ding, and the mo&s;t dangerous thing again&s;t him be the depo&s;iti|on of &s;uch a man, the ciuill Law then allowes, that a man may, to
<PB N="68" REF="39"> weaken or take away his te&s;timo|nie, bring what he can po&s;&s;ibly a|gain&s;t him that may touch him in life or conuer&s;ation.</P>
<P>Againe, though a man neede to haue a doore before his lips, and to v&s;e a great deale of di&s;cretion and moderation, in what&s;oeuer he &s;hall &s;ay, yet if he &s;hould chance to fall vpon a man, a little too boldly in the way of cen&s;uring; certainely if it proceede but from ra&s;hne&s;&s;e, and no will, or purpo&s;e in him&s;elfe to doe the other hurt, I cannot apt|ly call it <HI>Detraction.</HI> There may bee named other particulars of this na|ture, yet I cannot pre&s;ently thinke of any very materiall, that will not bee included within &s;ome of the&s;e. But to goe forward to his de&s;cription.</P>
<P>Hee inueigheth much again&s;t
<PB N="69" REF="39"> Flattery, &amp; glories that he is free fro~ it, making that a cloake to &s;hrowd his calumniation. And though it be commendable in euery man el&s;e to auoyd Flattery, yet it is not &s;o in him, becau&s;e it proceeds from a peruer&s;e crookedne&s;&s;e of nature, that cannot endure anothers prai&s;e, though iu&s;t.</P>
<P>He likewi&s;e prote&s;ts again&s;t di&s;|&s;imulation. But if he di&s;cour&s;e of a|ny mans actions but his own, you &s;hall ea&s;ily ob&s;erue him to di&s;&s;em|ble that which makes mo&s;t for his reputation. For, in reckoning vp per&s;ons expert in &s;ome faculty, to leaue out one of the be&s;t, and mo&s;t marked in that kinde, or, in commending a mans &s;maller ver|tues, to forget his better &amp; greater parts, is a di&s;&s;imulation as depra|uing as the bittere&s;t Inuectiue.</P>
<PB N="70" REF="40">
<P> Al&s;o hee that giues willing eare to a <HI>Detractor, Qui non defendit, alio culpante, &s;olutos Qui captat ri&s;us hominu~, famam&abque; dicacis, Hor.</HI> or ap|plaudes the <HI>Satyricall</HI> conceits of &s;uch a one, is an Acce&s;&s;ary to this crime, if not a <HI>Principall.</HI> For as the one hath the Diuell in his tongue, &s;o the other in his eares. Heare but a <HI>Detractor</HI> willingly, and you en|courage him to &s;peake; whereas, if you but &s;hew an auer&s;ene&s;&s;e to him, he then learnes vnwillingly to &s;peake, that which he knowes you doe not willingly heare.</P>
<P>So that though his teeth &s;eem pla|ced only in his tongue, yet he hath diuers wayes of biting, as <HI>Dauid</HI> complaines, <HI>P&s;al.</HI> 57. <HI>ver&s;e</HI> 4. <HI>My &s;oule is among&s;t Lyons: and I lye euen among&s;t them that are &s;et on fire, euen the &s;onnes of men, who&s;e teeth are</HI>
<PB N="71" REF="40"> <HI>&s;peares, and arrowes, and their tongue a &s;harpe &s;word.</HI></P>
<P>The per&s;ons that bee the <HI>De|tractors</HI> obiects, are commonly greater then him&s;elfe, and there|fore though hee may darken their Fame, yet he can neuer totally e|clip&s;e it. Yet his endeuour is e&s;pe|cially again&s;t &s;uch, becau&s;e their brightne&s;&s;e darkeneth and ob&s;cu|reth his. Like as the Moone, in coniunction with the Sunne, can|not &s;hew her owne light, but can oft hide from vs part of his.</P>
<P>Some delight &s;o much in &s;peak|ing euill, that they will detract from the dead, though neuer of|fended by them. Such &s;pirits as the&s;e, if they haue neuer &s;poken ill of God him&s;elfe; haue onely this excu&s;e, that they neuer knew him.</P>
<P>The &s;cope of them is commonly
<PB N="72" REF="41"> the di&s;grace of another, but &s;ome|times al&s;o, the &s;hewing of the acui|ty of their owne iudgements, in di&s;cerning of mens actions, or &s;ay|ings; as if they had beene placed here as a <HI>Chorus</HI> on the Stage, to cen&s;ure &amp; comment, or were the generall Inqui&s;itors of the world. But it fals not out as they expect: for they di&s;couer not acutene&s;&s;e, but acrimony, nor are e&s;teemed &s;harpe apprehenders, but bitter re|prehenders.</P>
<P>Sometimes by depre&s;&s;ion of an|others merit, they ayme at the ad|uancement of their owne, finding them&s;elues ab&s;olutely worthle&s;&s;e and nothing, but contending to be &s;omewhat by compari&s;on.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, the <HI>Detractor,</HI> though he &s;ow but words, oftentimes reapes &s;euerer requitals, or at lea&s;t a plen|tifull
<PB N="73" REF="41"> harue&s;t of his owne graine. <HI>Dehinc vt quie&s;cant porro moneo &amp; definant maledicere, malefacta ne no&s;|cant &s;ua. Terent.</HI> For he &s;hall be &s;ure to heare as much euil as he &s;peakes, and how&s;oeuer hee put his faults behinde him&s;elfe, yet they hang before on the &s;houlder of another.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="74" REF="42">
<HEAD>Of Selfe-will.</HEAD>
<P>WHereas in euery man there bee two faculties of the rea&s;onable Soule; namely, the Vnder&s;tanding and the Will: this Vice will admit but one, giuing the whole admini&s;tra|tion of mans life into the hands of the latter; which doth &s;o much ty|rannize ouer our rea&s;on, that it makes vs wholly incapable of ap|prehending, when we heare good coun&s;ell: &s;o re&s;olued we be in our owne opinions, though neuer &s;o bad, that we leaue no &s;pace for ma|turer directions, neuer calling to minde the po&s;&s;ibility of the rule, that <HI>Standers by, oftentimes &s;ee more then tho&s;e that play the game.</HI> And as this &s;o opinionated conceit of our
<PB N="75" REF="42"> owne re&s;olutions, continues the mi&s;t before our vnder&s;tanding, making vs impatient to receiue a|ny good coun&s;ell: &s;o con&s;equently, it deterres our friends from giuing it, as an vnnece&s;&s;ary and thankle&s;&s;e office, they being out of hope that their endeuours &s;hall preuaile, and al&s;o in feare to hazard the ill opini|ons of tho&s;e they de&s;ire to continue for friends: as hauing in them|&s;elues altered the receiued definiti|on of man, who being <HI>Animal ratione praeditum,</HI> &s;hould this way be <HI>Animal voluntate praeditum.</HI> Self-willed men being alwayes violent and impatient, if one endeuour to alter or cro&s;&s;e their re&s;olutions, which though grounded vpon lit|tle con&s;ideration, and &s;udden ra&s;h|ne&s;&s;e, yet they be generally &s;o ob|&s;tinate, and wel-conceited of them|&s;elues,
<PB N="76" REF="43"> that what&s;oeuer they con|ceiue and purpo&s;e, mu&s;t be peremp|torie, and without alteration. For Selfe-will is nothing but a kinde of will that v&s;urpes the place and of|fice of rea&s;on, giuing Antecedence to her actions, before tho&s;e of the <HI>Vnder&s;tanding:</HI> as to <HI>Re&s;olution,</HI> be|fore <HI>Deliberation; Execution,</HI> before <HI>Coun&s;ell;</HI> and the like. For it is not rea&s;on that guides this wil, becau&s;e they can giue you none for it, ex|cept you will take this for one, I will, becau&s;e I will: which is an ab|&s;urd, womani&s;h, and childi&s;h <HI>Iu&s;ti|fication,</HI> and an argument of &s;o &s;mal force, that it is a &s;hame to v&s;e it.</P>
<P>And this is that depriues mo&s;t enterpri&s;es of good &s;ucce&s;&s;e, but alwaies (how&s;oeuer be the euent) the enterpri&s;er of commendati|on. For good euents depending
<PB N="77" REF="43"> ordinarily vpon good coun&s;ell, they &s;eldome chance without it; when they doe, it is by fortune, whence can ari&s;e no glory to the doer, but mu&s;t wholly be attribu|ted to &s;ome chance. And if any cro&s;&s;e accident interpo&s;e it &s;elfe, this takes away all excu&s;e. For as it is &s;eemly in no man after a chance, to &s;ay, I did not thinke; &s;o it is inex|cu&s;able in him, when the cau&s;e is his refu&s;ing of good coun&s;ell, or hearing and neglecting it, follow|ing none but his owne. Like a bad Logician, it layes the conclu&s;ion downe fir&s;t, and &s;eeks the premi&s;es &amp; inducements after; or as a wor&s;e Iudge, decrees at home, and after heares the parties at the Barre.</P>
<P>A man &s;o conceited of him&s;elfe, can bee no companion in deli|beratiues, but rather precipitates
<PB N="78" REF="44"> them, and is altogether of a nature vnfit for bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, as comming with preiudicate opinions, &s;o v&s;ur|ping vpon our rea&s;on, that we will heare none from any el&s;e. And therefore if this violence and &s;elfe-conceit be &s;o dangerous in a Coun|cellor, it is farre more in a Iudge. For in the fir&s;t there is equalitie of voyces, and a man cannot &s;o ea&s;ily &s;way. But in a Iudge, if the will re&s;olue before, with a kinde of &s;ettled opinion, notwith&s;tanding a|ny thing that can be vrged to the contrary by the Councell at the Barre, I &s;ee no v&s;e of pleading, far|ther then to draw the Iudges incli|nation, and for formality.</P>
<P>It takes away al&s;o from a man both his &s;ight and his guide, and yet ha&s;tens his pace, which mu&s;t needs cau&s;e precipitation. Whereas
<PB N="79" REF="44"> receiuing of good coun&s;ell, is to one both a light, and a guide, and a &s;taffe, and a&s;&s;ures him more then the wall, and the watch doth a City.</P>
<P>A Selfe-will'd per&s;on mo&s;t com|monly &s;tops his eares to aduice, as to an enchantment, and when hee is content to heare it (which is &s;el|dome) hee doth it either as onely for cu&s;tome, bringing with him a re&s;olution what to doe, what&s;oe|uer &s;hall be &s;aid, and (knowing that &s;trong and euident rea&s;on hath in it &s;elfe a kinde of violence) hee therefore armes him&s;elfe again&s;t it with ob&s;tinacy: or el&s;e admits of coun&s;ell, out of a de&s;ire to act his owne deuices, as <HI>Xerxes,</HI> who be|gan a &s;peech to his Councell with this, That hee called them toge|ther not to aske their opinions,
<PB N="80" REF="45"> but to haue their confirmation of his.</P>
<P>Two things make this di&s;|ea&s;e &s;eeme incureable. The fir&s;t is, that it keepes out the <HI>Phy&s;i|cian</HI> that &s;hould open &s;uch pa&s;|&s;ages, as being &s;topt, hinder re|cour&s;e from the will to the iudge|ment. For hee that will admit a friend freely to giue him coun|&s;ell, and to &s;hew him the true cau&s;es of this vice, might ea&s;ily auoid it. The &s;econd is, becau&s;e the poy&s;on of flattery is his or|dinary food, and few dare op|po&s;e the violence of his Ap|petite.</P>
<P>Yet on the contrary, me thinks in time, a Selfe-willed per&s;on &s;hould bee cured, and become very wi&s;e, becau&s;e no &s;ort of men doe more often, or more
<PB N="81" REF="45"> deepely repent, or buy their re|pentance more dearely, then they doe. Yet &s;uch, if they come to a|mendment, are beholding for it more to their enemies, then friends; for they puni&s;h them for their follies, and by &s;eeking aduan|tages, teach them to &s;eeke defen|ces for their &s;afety, and flye to coun&s;ell. But as for friends, they be not likely to haue them many, nor wi&s;e; for who hauing iewels of that price, as wi&s;edome, and abi|lity to giue coun&s;ell, will be con|tent to remaine and conuer&s;e, where hee dare not vtter them, or they bee not at all &s;et by? For as there can be no greater con|tentment to a wi&s;e man, then to haue his coun&s;ell made v&s;e of; &s;o there is no greater &s;corne and vexation, then to haue it neglected.</P>
<PB N="82" REF="46">
<P> This vice proceeds from two cau&s;es, which are fir&s;t <HI>Arrogance,</HI> and next, <HI>a debility of the mind,</HI> po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ed with an earne&s;t de&s;ire to &s;ome plea&s;ure or appearing con|tentment. The fir&s;t cau&s;e works vpon &s;tiffe and &s;euere natures: the latter, in women, and men of &s;oft and effeminated affections. The fir&s;t maketh the vnder&s;tanding by preiudging, vnfit to di&s;cerne of good aduice: the latter di&s;ableth the will to follow it. The fir&s;t makes it more dangerous: The &s;econd more incurable.</P>
<P>Yet betwixt <HI>Selfe-will</HI> and <HI>Affec|tion,</HI> a man mu&s;t di&s;tingui&s;h as much as betwixt a &s;etled re&s;olu|tion, and a wi&s;h, as one many times de&s;ires prohibited things may bee lawfull, though hee ap|proues them not to bee &s;o, and
<PB N="83" REF="46"> &s;o followes not, but bridles his in|clination.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides, notwith&s;tanding all this, I hold it better for any man that hath a mediocrity of iudge|ment, to be wedded to his owne will, then to the will of any one man be&s;ides, the danger being e|quall of both &s;ides; for as the ad|uenture is great, wholly to depend vpon our own wills, &s;o incon&s;tan|cie is farre wor&s;e, when a man will bevaried and di&s;po&s;ed with diuers, or &s;ingle opinions. It is better to &s;ubiect our &s;elues to our owne ap|petites with little rea&s;on, then to another mans with le&s;&s;e. The meane is, neither to re&s;olue with|out apparance of rea&s;on, nor to be altred, vnle&s;&s;e with better; neither to bee &s;ubiect to the will of ano|ther, nor too peremptory in our
<PB N="84" REF="47"> owne. It is the Coun&s;ell of diuers, and wi&s;e men, (among&s;t whom a mans &s;elfe &s;hould bee of the <HI>Quo|rum)</HI> that mo&s;t ea&s;ily conducteth our actions to their de&s;ired ends.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="85" REF="47">
<HEAD>Of Ma&s;ters and Seruants.</HEAD>
<P>THis part of <HI>Oeconomicall</HI> Iu|ri&s;diction is in ab&s;tract, a re|pre&s;entation of a more pub|like Gouernment. To be vnexpe|rienced in the fir&s;t, argues much di&s;ability for the latter. Hee that cannot rule his owne familie, is much more incapable to gouerne a multitude.</P>
<P>In this de&s;cription I accept not Seruants as bound, nor Ma&s;ters as ab&s;olute, but take them in tho&s;e de|grees as with vs they be generally receiued, where there is left to both an equall libertie, and free election. And as a Seruant is bound in obedience to his Ma|&s;ter, which is the part hee mu&s;t act; &s;o a Ma&s;ters power is limited,
<PB N="86" REF="48"> that hee cannot impo&s;e vpon him di&s;hone&s;t employments, nor exact a &s;trict performance of his &s;er|uant in any action of that &s;ort. Wherefore, where commands be lawfull, obedience is due, other|wi&s;e not.</P>
<P>In your choyce, fir&s;t, the occa|&s;ion is to bee knowne, next, the man. For to affect extraordinary multitudes, expre&s;&s;eth o&s;tenta|tion.</P>
<P>If your owne knowledge ac|quaint you not with a &s;eruant for your v&s;e, then venter vpon ano|thers recommendation, but caute|lou&s;ly. Fir&s;t, know his integrity, and next, his iudgement; le&s;t out of his affection he preferre one, for his preferment, and not for your v&s;e; or that through ignorance he pre&s;ume one to be fit, that is a mere
<PB N="87" REF="48"> &s;tranger to &s;uch employments as your occa&s;ions require. And to take a man of his own word, is the wor&s;t of all. For many will pro|mi&s;e for their owne &s;ufficiency in tho&s;e very things they vnder&s;tand not.</P>
<P>To take a &s;eruant, though capa|ble of any impre&s;&s;ion, yet wanting experience, is more fit for a Ma&s;ter that hath employment in expec|tancy, then pre&s;ent, though certain|ly in time, &s;uch do proue the be&s;t Seruants, and follow onely the method of their Ma&s;ters directi|ons; for they &s;eldome&s;t varie from his very thoughts, and make &s;uch bu&s;ine&s;&s;es as pa&s;&s;e their hands, to be euen done by him&s;elfe. But this way is laborious, and requires both an apprehending Seruant, and an intelligent Ma&s;ter.</P>
<PB N="88" REF="49">
<P> In matter of bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, neuer thinke it to bee &s;o well done by troopes, as few and able Seruants; for in di&s;patch numbers euer breed confu&s;ion, where affaires bee alike, and equally di&s;tributed. For your Seruants either tru&s;t too much one to another, or emulate, and &s;o it re&s;ts vndone; e&s;pecially if there be not one Superintendent, that go|uernes and directs the re&s;t. But if you haue bu&s;ine&s;&s;es of diuers and &s;undry natures, then it is good to di|uide the~ into &s;uch parts &amp; degrees, as one man may not depend vpon another: for where one is full of employments, he mu&s;t of nece&s;&s;ity ranke his Seruants according to the diuer&s;itie of his bu&s;ines, conditio|nally, that he be &s;ure him&s;elfe often to take a particular account of their &s;euerall di&s;patches, which v&s;ing,
<PB N="89" REF="49"> or omitting, prouokes either dili|gence, or carele&s;ne&s;&s;e in his &s;er|uant. More e&s;pecially in the par|ticular of employing your &s;eruant in matters of account, and expence, you ought often to reuiew, and giue allowance of tho&s;e things that pa&s;&s;e vnder his charge. For fir&s;t, you may tru&s;t one whom you thinke hone&s;t, though he be not, and then you are &s;ure without great care to be deceiued. Next, if you be negligent in taking his ac|counts, and not remembring euery particular, you may &s;u&s;pect him that is hone&s;t, &amp; without a cau&s;e; &s;o that both for your owne &s;ake, and his, this cour&s;e will be nece&s;&s;arie.</P>
<P>Now in this great tru&s;t, that Ma|&s;ters be as it were of nece&s;&s;ity tyed to conferre vpon their &s;eruants, one who&s;e integrity you are mo&s;t
<PB N="90" REF="50"> confident of, is the man, that with the generall bulke, and burden of your affayres, I would haue you communicate, e&s;pecially concer|ning tho&s;e parts require &s;ecrecy, ei|ther in re&s;pect of your &s;elfe, or o|thers. If you &s;hould omit this, and referre all to your owne memorie, &s;omethings might be forgot, others mi&s;taken, when you are pre&s;&s;ed both with multitudes, and varietie of bu&s;ine&s;&s;e. Yet a Ma&s;ter need be very preci&s;e, what, and how much tru&s;t he repo&s;es in a &s;eruant: no man but is &s;ubiect to &s;ome faults, which they ought rather to hide, then to reueale. Communicating then of them to our &s;eruants, doth not onely decrea&s;e re&s;pect, and o|pinion in them, but al&s;o &s;ubiects vs to their da~ger; if either vpo~ di&s;con|tentment, malice, or trechery, they
<PB N="91" REF="50"> haue at any time a minde to doe vs an iniury; or, if their ea&s;ine&s;&s;e, and facilitie make them liberall in di&s;|clo&s;ing of tru&s;t, or el&s;e out of a hope to gaine grace and reputati|on, they bragge of the confidence repo&s;ed in them, which mu&s;t be expre&s;&s;ed by &s;eeming to know tho&s;e things of vs, that in rea&s;on we ought to conceale. And if a man cannot be &s;o true to him&s;elfe, as to keepe tho&s;e things hee would haue &s;ecret from the knowledge of his &s;eruants, why &s;hould hee ex|pect more &s;ecrecy in a <HI>Seruant,</HI> then he findes in him&s;elfe? For as we, out of &s;ome conceiued good opi|nion, lye open to them, it is likely, they al&s;o may haue &s;ome acquain|tance, whom they equally e&s;teeme, and may be as confident in di&s;|clo&s;ing their owne, and your tru&s;t
<PB N="92" REF="51"> to them, as you were to your man, and that friend may haue another, and &s;o in time, our mo&s;t con|cealod actions, become pub|lique.</P>
<P>In particular and &s;euerall bu&s;i|ne&s;&s;es, you mu&s;t apply your di|rection to tho&s;e that haue the di&s;|patches of that kinde. For &s;uch as require con&s;ideration, and debate, I would haue you con&s;ult in gene|rall, with all tho&s;e you haue &s;elect|ed for bu&s;ine&s;&s;e: &amp; when you haue both di&s;cu&s;&s;ed the difficulties, and re&s;olued on the cour&s;e, then for the expedition, referre it to the particular care of him, who&s;e part is to deale with the affayres of that nature.</P>
<P>In this domination that Ma&s;ters haue ouer their Seruants, two ex|tremes are to be auoided. <HI>Seueritie,</HI>
<PB N="93" REF="51"> and <HI>Facilitie.</HI> One makes them to feare, the other, to pre&s;ume too much. The fir&s;t, brings them too neere the nature of Bondmen; the &s;econd, of Fellowes. This breeds hate, that contempt. But ob&s;erue the golden mediocritie, both to command, and not be feared; to be familiar, and not &s;corned.</P>
<P>Let your conuer&s;ation be &s;uch, that your &s;eruants may take a pat|terne from your actions, of vertue, &amp; not deformities. The liberty and licentiou&s;ne&s;&s;e of Superiours doth not onely prouoke, but nouri&s;h vices in lower rankes. Men be na|turally enclined to a plea&s;ing and voluptuous kinde of life: and when they &s;ee tho&s;e that be aboue them, to liue loo&s;ely without any manner of re&s;traint, they thinke <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="2 letters"> lawfull to imitate, and be ambiti|ous
<PB N="94" REF="52"> to follow the fa&s;hion, as it were by pre&s;ident. Be&s;ides, this in|conuenience happens to Ma&s;ters them&s;elues, that they cannot with iu&s;tice blame their Seruants, for tho&s;e faults, whereof them&s;elues be as guiltie, and for the example more blameable; e&s;pecially, if they v&s;e their &s;eruants to ba&s;e and di&s;|hone&s;t employments, which mu&s;t needs turne to their Iu&s;tification, if euer they fall into any errours of that, or the like kinde.</P>
<P>Alter your &s;eruants rarely, and but vpon extraordinarie occa&s;ions. Doing otherwi&s;e, argues weake|ne&s;&s;e in your fir&s;t choi&s;e, leuitie in your change, and &s;hewes you to be of an ill di&s;po&s;ition.</P>
<P>And la&s;tly, for tho&s;e &s;eruants that be of chiefe&s;t employment a|bout you, as their bu&s;ine&s;&s;e and
<PB N="95" REF="52"> tru&s;t is greater then the re&s;t, &s;o &s;hould their exhibition be: it doth not onely reward their merit, but makes them more diligent. And yet I would not haue you to be at once &s;o liberall-handed, as that they &s;hould take that for their la&s;t reward: but vpon new occa|&s;ions, and &s;euerall merits, expre&s;&s;e &s;omething of your bounty. And in your preferments, if your place can giue you leaue, they that way may be plentifully recompenced in &s;ubordinate employments vn|der you, and &s;o together both &s;erue you, and profit them&s;elues. If you haue not this way to preferre your Seruants, but that it mu&s;t come out of your owne priuate &s;tate, then your bu&s;ine&s;&s;e being the le&s;&s;e, your traine may be the &s;horter. For as it expre&s;&s;eth ingratitude, not
<PB N="96" REF="53" MS="y"> to reward feruants, So it &s;hewes little fore&s;ight, if in indeuoring to rai&s;e the fortunes of too many you empaire your owne. But how&s;o|euer, when a &s;eruant depends vpon you, as you ought not to defend him in doing of iniuries, &s;o you are bound to protect him from re|ceiuing them. Men of qualitie and place, they may, and mu&s;t haue &s;er|uants, as well for <HI>Honor,</HI> as <HI>bu&s;i|ne&s;se.</HI> In appearing abroad, and en|tertainments at home, they be ne|ce&s;&s;arie, and adde re&s;pect. But lea|uing the numbers, I will now de&s;|cend to the de&s;cription of &s;uch &s;er|uants, as the wi&s;e&s;t Ma&s;ters &s;hould affect to choo&s;e, and in what kinde he ought for to v&s;e them.</P>
<P>And fir&s;t in their choi&s;e, I would haue them to auoid all, of what|&s;oeuer pre&s;ent &s;tate, or fame, that
<PB N="97" REF="53"> had beene noted for, or branded with any notorious crime. It is &s;eldome &s;eene, that either puni&s;h|ment, or &s;hame, reduce men to good, but rather confirme them in euill, and di&s;&s;olute behauiour.</P>
<P>Neither would I take a man that pre&s;umed too much on his owne &s;ufficiencie, or that &s;eemed to bee extreme wi&s;e in his owne conceit. Such a di&s;po&s;ition is fond and ridiculous in all &s;orts, but in a &s;eruant mo&s;t intolerable. For what|&s;oeuer he doth, will &s;mell of <HI>O&s;ten|tation</HI> and <HI>Arrogance.</HI></P>
<P>Men that bee <HI>married,</HI> they bee euer le&s;&s;e diligent then others, and therefore he that can keep but few &s;eruants, had be&s;t make choi&s;e of tho&s;e that be &s;ingle.</P>
<P>Such a one as is alwayes prea|ching to you of preferment, beg|ging
<PB N="98" REF="54"> of Sures, and putting you in minde of his merit, is a &s;eruant meerely for his own ends, and not at all for yours, and is euer accom|panied with the &s;pirit of impati|ence, and pre&s;umption.</P>
<P>Such as affect Principalitie in your employments, and Primacie aboue others, be of bu&s;ie, enui|ous, ambitious, and factious di&s;po|&s;ition, and therefore vnfit for &s;eruice.</P>
<P>Such as are too officious, and in&s;truments of di&s;&s;ention in a hou&s;e, by doing ill offices, betwixt a Ma&s;ter and the re&s;t of his Fami|ly, in flattering of him, cen&s;uring or &s;landering of them, tho&s;e na|tures be made of too crooked tim|ber for this building.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e that will be prying into your mo&s;t &s;ecret affayres, cen&s;uring
<PB N="99" REF="54"> your actions, murmuring at your rebukes, be mo&s;t pernicious, and incorrigible.</P>
<P>And la&s;tly, I would auoid &s;uch as haue pa&s;t through the hands of many Ma&s;ters: for, as that may be a &s;igne of &s;ome ill qualitie that they haue, &s;o it nece&s;&s;arily expre&s;|&s;eth them to bee of incon&s;tant and giddy di&s;po&s;itions.</P>
<P>But &s;uch as be diligent and con|&s;tant in their duties, faithfull in their &s;eruice, tru&s;ty in their places, and louing to their Ma&s;ters, be the &s;eruants of whom you are to make election, re&s;olution &s;hould be to keepe, and will to preferre, accor|ding to their merits, and your own abilitie.</P>
<P>A Ma&s;ters part is to command, and a Seruants to obey: wi&s;edome is required in the one, and duty
<PB N="100" REF="55"> in the other. Ma&s;ters &s;hould &s;o liue with their inferiours, as they would wi&s;h their Superiours &s;hould doe with them; and they know be&s;t how to gouerne, that know how to &s;erue.</P>
<P>Put not your &s;eruants to ba&s;e offices, nor make them not the in|&s;truments of your licentiou&s;ne&s;&s;e, and luxury.</P>
<P>Neither tyrannize ouer them with &s;trokes, for that argues intem|perance: nor rebuke them with publique checkes, and &s;cornes, which be both in&s;ufferable, and di&s;gracefull.</P>
<P>Suffer your &s;eruant &s;ometimes the freedome of &s;peech, and let not his lips be euer &s;ealed in your pre&s;ence. They that &s;peake lea&s;t to you before your face, &s;eldome&s;t &s;peake good of you behinde your
<PB N="101" REF="55"> backe. Such &s;eruants as &s;peake mo&s;t freely before their Ma&s;ters, bee mo&s;t re&s;erued in di&s;gracing his per&s;on, or publi&s;hing his er|rours.</P>
<P>Thinke not your &s;eruant, your &s;laue. Fortune hath as much power ouer the one, as the other. You haue no certainty of not being transfer|red to the &s;ame, or a wor&s;e degree. You are borne after the &s;ame man|ner, enioy the &s;ame ayre, eate the &s;ame bread, breathe, liue, and dye alike with them. Therefore in&s;ult not too much, and reduce them not to ouer-great &s;ubiection. For loue can neuer &s;uffer mixture with feare. And thinke not that there is &s;o great a di&s;tance betwixt you, and your &s;eruant: for there bee few Ma&s;ters, that &s;erue not either Pride, or Women, or Ambition
<PB N="102" REF="56"> or Feare, or Couetou&s;ne&s;&s;e. And the&s;e kindes of &s;eruitude, which be mo&s;t voluntarie, are alwayes mo&s;t reprochfull.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="103" REF="56">
<HEAD>Of Expences.</HEAD>
<P>EXpences doe naturally di|uide them&s;elues into acti|ons of <HI>Honour, Charitie,</HI> and <HI>Nece&s;sitie:</HI> the fir&s;t requires a Great man: the &s;econd, a good man: the third is common to both. Honourable expences bee commendable: Charitable, reli|gious: and Nece&s;&s;arie, forced. The fir&s;t addes re&s;pect: the &s;econd, loue: and the la&s;t, &s;hewes our hu|mane frailty. Inaptitude to the for|mer, &s;hewes a man to be of a poore and ignoble &s;pirit: backwardne&s;&s;e in the next, expre&s;&s;eth an Athei&s;ti|call, and heatheni&s;h nature: and not promptne&s;&s;e to the third, argues a mo&s;t peruer&s;e, and couetous di&s;|po&s;ition. But on the contrarie,
<PB N="104" REF="57"> to vndoe a mans &s;elfe with pub|lique, and magnificent charge, is the badge of a <HI>Vaine-glorious</HI> man: to cloath another, and goe naked him&s;elfe, is a &s;igne rather of Fryerly <HI>Hypocri&s;ie,</HI> then of <HI>Cha|ritie.</HI> To limit our whole ex|pence for our &s;elues, and to bee couetous in re&s;pect of others, and prodigall in our owne parti|cular, is the true marke of a <HI>Licen|tious, Luxurious</HI> and <HI>Selfe-louing</HI> condition. Let not therefore Ho|nourable expence bee &s;tayned with wa&s;ting: neither let <HI>Pha|ri&s;aicall o&s;tentation</HI> bee ioyned to our <HI>Charitie:</HI> and take heede that <HI>&s;uperfluitie</HI> choake not either. And loue not <HI>Riches,</HI> more then your <HI>Reputation,</HI> the <HI>Poore,</HI> or your &s;elues: but let your honour be maintai|ned without <HI>Pride:</HI> the poore
<PB N="105" REF="57"> relieued without <HI>Arrogance:</HI> and nature &s;atisfied without <HI>Exce&s;&s;e.</HI></P>
<P>Expences &s;hould euer be limited according to the occa&s;ion, and our own ability. For vnnece&s;&s;ary char|ges be as vaine as the other dange|rous. They that &s;pend more the~ they haue, want gouernment: they that &s;pend all, Prouide~ce. And as a man &s;hould take an account of his expences pa&s;t: &s;o hee ought to make a rate of what he meanes to &s;pende. For incertainties of this kinde be neuer good. As expences bee proportioned, &s;o the recko|nings &s;hould bee certaine, other|wi&s;e, a man walkes in the darke. But this is to bee vnder&s;tood of &s;uch as haue a competencie, bee come to yeeres of ripene&s;&s;e and iudgement, and that haue not been by any ca&s;ualtie, or accident put
<PB N="106" REF="58"> behinde hand in the world. All which though they do not auoid the mi&s;chiefe, yet they extenuate the error.</P>
<P>Riches be ordained for our v&s;e, but neither to bee <HI>adored,</HI> nor <HI>con|temned.</HI> A <HI>Prodigall</HI> runs thorow his e&s;tate, and is &s;o entangled to o|ther men, that hee is neuer ma&s;ter of him&s;elfe: this is the fruit of the <HI>Contempt.</HI> A couetous man, as he is farre from benefitting others, &s;o he is loath to accommodate him|&s;elfe, but liues in the &s;tate rather of a Steward for another, then ma|&s;ter of his owne. And this is the be|nefit of the <HI>Adoration.</HI> So that in this there can be no other medio|crity, or better compo&s;ition, then to &s;pend with di&s;cretion, that that you haue hone&s;tly obtained. Li|berality is a Vertue, and &s;o is Par&s;i|mony
<PB N="107" REF="58"> within their &s;eueral bounds, but the error is, when the one &s;teps, or the other declines too neere the contrary.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e men that bee ble&s;t with great and fortunate e&s;tates, I thinke to bee tyed euen by the law of Nature, to a more pub|like appearing, then tho&s;e that bee below them, either in degree, or e&s;tate, to a willingne&s;&s;e in re|lieuing the nece&s;&s;ities of others, proportionably according to their abilities, and &s;o to prouide for their po&s;teritie, that they may rather finde encrea&s;e then dimi|nution of any part of their patri|mony.</P>
<P>A man ought to moderate his expences, and keepe them within certaine limitations; for he is bound to encrea&s;e and better
<PB N="108" REF="59"> the fortune of his Family, to main|taine, and marrie his children, to be of a rea&s;onable ability, not to re|fu&s;e, when that which he loues and likes, may chance to be offered vn|to him, to haue meanes to main|taine him&s;elfe from wrongs and iniuries, to keepe him from being contemptible in the world, and many re&s;pects more in the &s;ame kinde. But for a man to &s;uppo&s;e too great a nece&s;&s;ity in the&s;e or the like occa&s;ions, and make that a colour for extremitie of couetou&s;|ne&s;&s;e, I cannot imagine a man &s;o rich, that may not that way pre|tend an occa&s;ion for as much more, if it were po&s;&s;ible to be had; &s;o that there is no end in coue|ting, if the more a man enioyes, the more he de&s;ires, though in a mans fortune I thinke it better for ones
<PB N="109" REF="59"> con&s;ideration, to fixe vppon the competencie, then &s;uperfluitie of his e&s;tate.</P>
<P>In priuate expences it is good to be neere, in publike, <HI>magnificent,</HI> be|ing poore and ba&s;e to &s;pare in ho|nourable expences, to the end they may the better &s;pend vpon their priuate plea&s;ures. Therefore hate <HI>Couetou&s;ne&s;&s;e,</HI> but endeuour Thrift, de&s;pi&s;e <HI>Prodigality,</HI> yet loue to bee liberall.</P>
<P>To &s;pend vpon backe and belly too &s;umptuou&s;ly, too deliciou&s;ly, cannot bee reckoned in the num|ber of honourable expences, but mere effects of <HI>Pride</HI> and <HI>Epicu|ri&s;me.</HI> And I am per&s;waded that indeede there bee none more auaricious then the&s;e gorgeous &s;penders. Hone&s;t expences they thinke makes no &s;hew, and ho|nourable,
<PB N="110" REF="60"> they find giues no ta&s;te; wherefore they neglect them, &s;tri|uing couetou&s;ly to lay vp, where|by they may feede their &s;umptu|ou&s;ne&s;&s;e and delicacie. And you &s;hall commonly &s;ee in expences of this kinde, more de&s;ire, more zeale then in any &s;ort be&s;ides, as being gouerned by the &s;quare of irregular pa&s;&s;ions, and neither by the rules of <HI>Honour,</HI> nor <HI>Hone&s;ty.</HI></P>
<P>And it is not good to haue our liberality wedded to &s;ome kinds of expences, and in others of as great account to grow mi&s;erable, as to be bountifull to our hor&s;es, and keepe a beggerly hou&s;e, to be &s;umptuous at our Mi&s;ers fea&s;t, and then liue like Farmers all the yeere after. The&s;e extremities be not good, but according to euery mans meanes, an equality is to be kept. V&s;e plea|&s;ures,
<PB N="111" REF="60"> yet forget not your profit; you may be liberall, yet hurt not your &s;tate.</P>
<P>I haue knowne &s;ome, and very rich, who all their life time haue not beene acce&s;&s;ary to one good and charitable act, and yet, after their death, giue order to di&s;po&s;e of their e&s;tates more liberally in this kinde then any other, which &s;hew of Charitie I e&s;teeme not: for it is nece&s;&s;itie of leauing, and not de&s;ire to doe good, that enforces that act. Or, peraduenture it proceeds from cu&s;tome: for they who all their life haue neuer benefited any of their friends or kindred, are loth to alter or differ from this habit in their death; and not knowing el&s;e what to doe with their e|&s;tates, be after a manner forced to this poore Charitie, in &s;pight of
<PB N="112" REF="61"> their hearts. For if it were po&s;&s;ible to haue them&s;elues and their mo|ney buried together, I verily be|leeue that they would rather in|cline to that way.</P>
<P>It is not the meere doing of good, but the willingne&s;&s;e and cheerfull proceeding that crownes acts of this nature. The very de|ferring and protraction argues it to bee an action rather &s;trained then voluntary. And be&s;ides, be|nefits thus be&s;towed, when we are dead, de&s;erue neither the Attributes of Charitie nor Liberalitie, for that that wee then part withall belongs to another owner, for it neither ap|pertaines to vs, nor is in our po&s;|&s;e&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>If a man would truely enter in|to a contemplatiue con&s;ideration of riches, certainely he would find
<PB N="113" REF="61"> them extremely ouer-valued, and in them&s;elues worth nothing, but that e&s;timation makes them &s;o; &s;o that they haue rather gotten a name and reputation in the world by opinion then merit. For it is im|po&s;&s;ible for the mo&s;t carefull pro|uider to fore&s;ee the fortune of his wealth, whether continued, en|crea&s;ed, di&s;per&s;ed, or lo&s;t. The fir&s;t &s;tocke one may ghe&s;&s;e of; but to pre&s;ume of farther a&s;&s;urance, is vaine, and vncertaine.</P>
<P>Riches be therefore well placed, when a man can as contentedly leaue, as enioy them: which eue|ry man will ea&s;ily doe, that e&s;teems them not beyond their v&s;e, nor is deceiued by their lu&s;tre.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="114" REF="62">
<HEAD>Of &V;i&s;itations.</HEAD>
<P><HI>FEminine thoughts,</HI> bee for the mo&s;t part enemies to <HI>Medi|tation;</HI> yet in this Subiect, a helpe. For it is an idle, woman|i&s;h, and therefore vnnece&s;&s;ary, and no ma&s;culine habit, though their weakene&s;&s;e in this kinde hath entred farre into our &s;exe, as it were by imitation; from whence may be di&s;cerned the force of ill exam|ples, when &s;o weake ones from weake women can draw vs to ri|diculou&s;ne&s;&s;e, being an out&s;ide quality, and expre&s;&s;ing nothing of mans inward abilities. And yet it is a wonder to &s;ee what multi|tudes there bee of all &s;orts, that make this their only bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, and in a manner, &s;pend their whole
<PB N="115" REF="62"> time in complement, as if they were borne to no other end, bred to no other purpo&s;e, had nothing el&s;e to doe, then to bee a kinde of liuing walking gho&s;ts, to haunt and per&s;ecute others with vnnece&s;|&s;ary ob&s;eruation.</P>
<P>It is an argument either of fol|ly, or deceit, for any to bee more ceremonious then reall, which is nece&s;&s;arily implyed in the&s;e vnne|ce&s;&s;ary vi&s;its. For they expre&s;&s;e ei|ther <HI>Simplicity,</HI> or <HI>Flattery,</HI> the one the weake&s;t, the other the ba&s;e&s;t quality that can bee incident to any. Wi&s;e men will not view &s;uch per&s;ons but with &s;corn, nor re&s;pect the~ but with di&s;e&s;teem; for men of ability, &amp; iudgement vnder-value, rather then prai&s;e them, for the&s;e needle&s;&s;e complements, as being the practice of light &amp; fanta&s;ticall,
<PB N="116" REF="63"> and not of wi&s;e men, becau&s;e the&s;e vnnece&s;&s;ary vi&s;its, interrupt acti|ons of more valew and worth, with making bu&s;ine&s;&s;es, where there is none.</P>
<P>Some goe abroad, and God knowes, the <HI>Vi&s;ited</HI> be not behold|ing to them. For if the&s;e giddy go|ers bee forced to giue a rea&s;on for their wheeling vp and downe the &s;treets, their an&s;were is, <HI>they know not el&s;e how to pa&s;&s;e the time.</HI> And how tedious it is, for a man that accounts his houres, to bee &s;ubiect to the&s;e vacancies, and apply him|&s;elfe to lo&s;e a day with &s;uch time|pa&s;&s;ers, who neither come for bu|&s;ine&s;&s;e, nor out of true friend&s;hip, but onely to <HI>&s;pend the day,</HI> as if one had nothing el&s;e to doe, but to &s;up|ply their idle time: how hard a taske this is, tho&s;e that be haunted
<PB N="117" REF="63"> with the&s;e &s;pirits, doe &s;o &s;en&s;ibly feele, that I am loth to inlarge their torture; but onely adui&s;e them to let tho&s;e know, who make a pro|fe&s;&s;ion to pa&s;&s;e their time, with the lo&s;&s;e of mine, that as their vi&s;itati|ons be vnprofitable to them&s;elues, &s;o they bee tedious, and burthen|&s;ome vnto me. And if that &s;erue not the turn again&s;t their vntimely vi&s;its, then bolt my doore, or hide my &s;elfe, which &s;hift I haue known many put to for want of other de|fence.</P>
<P>And be&s;ides, when the&s;e &s;pirits walke abroad, it is rather to &s;hew them&s;elues, then to &s;ee any, which for the mo&s;t part is neuer in the Morning; (and e&s;pecially on <HI>Sun|dayes,</HI> becau&s;e it is the be&s;t day in the weeke) all that while they bee building them&s;elues, and viewing
<PB N="118" REF="64"> their owne proportions, feeding in &s;tead of a breakfa&s;t, vpon <HI>how braue they &s;hall appeare in the afternoone,</HI> And the~ they go to the mo&s;t pub|lique, and mo&s;t receiued places of entertainment, which be &s;undry, and therefore they &s;tay not long in a place: but after they haue asked you, how you doe, and told &s;ome old, or fabulous newes, laught twice or thrice in your face, and cen&s;ured tho&s;e they know you loue not, (when peraduenture the next place they goe to, is to them, where they will be as courteous to you) &s;poke a few words of fa&s;hi|ons, and alterations, whi&s;pered &s;ome la&s;ciuious motion, that &s;hall be practi&s;ed the next day, falne into di&s;cour&s;e of liberty, and how it a|grees with humanitie, for women to haue &s;eruants be&s;ides their hus|bands,
<PB N="119" REF="64"> made legges, and po&s;tures of the la&s;t edition, with three or foure new and diminutiue oathes, and prote&s;tations of their &s;eruice, and ob&s;eruance; they then retire to their Coach, and &s;o prepare for another company, and conti|nue in this vocation, till the be|ginning of the next day, that is, till pa&s;t midnight, and &s;o home: when betimes in the morning, the <HI>Decorum</HI> is, if it bee a <HI>Lady vi&s;i|ter,</HI> to &s;end her <HI>Gentleman V&s;her,</HI> to &s;ee if all tho&s;e be well, that &s;hee &s;aw in perfect health but the night before.</P>
<P>This hath beene more to &s;hew the Deformitie of it, then the Dan|ger, which I would rather auoid, then vnmaske, becau&s;e it touches too many particulars; but in gene|rall this. It is the Index of an idle
<PB N="120" REF="65"> and vnprofitable di&s;po&s;ition, a ta|ker vp of time that may be better di&s;po&s;ed; and &s;uch a &s;pender of time, that in few actions it can be wor&s;e employed. Many an vnlaw|full bargaine is concluded vpon this exchange: contrarie purpo&s;es bee concealed vnder this vizzard, and few bee practique in this art, who&s;e manners and liues bee not corrupted. Be&s;ides, this vaine cu|&s;tome once begunne, induceth a habit not ea&s;ily lo&s;t, therefore not good to begin; and once practi&s;ed, it is not &s;o &s;afely left: for begunne, and not continued, makes the lea|uing of it off, e&s;teemed a neglect: which otherwi&s;e would bee neuer claimed as a due.</P>
<P>There be of this Family, or Sect, that are &s;o punctuall, and methodi|call in their art, that they turne <HI>Cri|tiques,</HI>
<PB N="121" REF="65"> and cen&s;ure tho&s;e that be not as pertinent, in impertinencies, and &s;pit not with as good a grace, or &s;peake not to as good a tune (for all their words be but &s;ound, and no &s;en&s;e) as them&s;elues, when &s;uch as are truely intelligent, thinke this &s;corne, their prai&s;e: for no man that hath any thoughts worthy con&s;ideration, will be&s;towe the la|bour to &s;peake, or to entertaine ar|gument in &s;uch a ca&s;e, vpon &s;o bar|ren, and worthle&s;&s;e an occa&s;ion.</P>
<P>And the&s;e kinde of ceremonies, be equally tedious to the Comple|menter, and Complementee, if they reciprocally re&s;pect not this fond and di&s;&s;imulate kinde of conuer&s;a|tion: and though it often happen, that in &s;ome places where they vi|&s;it, their tedious &s;ociety be well ac|cepted, (which then mu&s;t onely be
<PB N="122" REF="66"> allowed to &s;uch, as are of the &s;ame occupation, &amp; are euen with them in the &s;ame kinde;) yet &s;omtimes it fals out, they thus running ouer all kinde of company, they be to ma|ny &s;o vnwelcome, and trouble|&s;ome, in di&s;tracting, or diuerting their better employments, that of|tentimes tho&s;e they come to, con|ceale them&s;elues vpon purpo&s;e, or &s;uppo&s;e &s;ome nece&s;&s;ary bu&s;ine&s;&s;e that cals them away, with intenti|on onely to get rid of them. From which tediou&s;ne&s;&s;e, if no better em|ployment of their owne can diuert them, yet the con&s;ideration of the vn&s;ea&s;onable trouble they put tho&s;e to, whom they vi&s;it, &s;hould euen &s;hame them from frequent|ing &s;o bad a cu&s;tome.</P>
<P>Yet cu&s;tome hath &s;o farre preuai|led, that I dare not pre&s;cribe a totall
<PB N="123" REF="66"> neglect: but coun&s;aile to auoid frequent and a&s;&s;iduall practice of &s;o &s;uperfluous, though receiued a fa&s;hion.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e that duty, loue, re&s;pect, bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, or familiaritie bind vs to, wee mu&s;t ob&s;erue, and vi&s;it; le&s;t they interpret our ab&s;ence to be ei|ther in contempt of their per&s;ons, or a carele&s;ne&s;&s;e, and di&s;-e&s;teeme of their fauour, and friend&s;hip.</P>
<P>And how&s;oeuer, with a <HI>non ob|&s;tante,</HI> I doe not by this &s;eclude &s;o|ciety, and conuer&s;ation: for &s;uch a &s;olitary, &amp; vn&s;ociable di&s;po&s;ition, I hold to be wor&s;e then this <HI>Gadder.</HI></P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="124" REF="67">
<HEAD>Of Death.</HEAD>
<P>NOthing is more certaine then Death, and nothing more vncertaine then the the time. Euery man is to pay this debt, though few bee ready at the day; life is but lent vs, and the con|dition of the obligation is Death, yet not without a penalty, if in this wandring and vncertaine &s;tate wee make no preparation.</P>
<P>Life then being &s;o &s;hort, Death &s;o certaine, a man &s;hould not con|fine his thoughts within the &s;mall circle of the pre&s;ent being, but di|late them to more high and wor|thy con&s;iderations; and one is the immortality of the &s;oule, which without compari&s;on is the chiefe and only happine&s;&s;e; the next is,
<PB N="125" REF="67"> perpetuating of a good name; which according to the actions of our life good or bad, continue in memory and fame after wee bee dead: and &s;urely, a man that hath a|ny affinity with Vertue or good|ne&s;&s;e, and is not only borne for, but buried in him&s;elfe, as he &s;hould de&s;ire an hone&s;t report and me|mory to continue of him, &s;o he &s;hould feare the contrary. Euery man naturally de&s;ires to haue his name continued by children and po&s;teritie; and certainely it is a great ble&s;&s;ing, yet &s;urely the acti|ons of a great mans life, if they be good, make his name, when dead, more durable.</P>
<P>Beatitude is neuer &s;eene in this life, but by a fal&s;e light; wee mu&s;t bee di&s;&s;olued, transformed, and changed, before wee arriue to ful|ne&s;&s;e
<PB N="126" REF="68" MS="y"> and fruition, which cannot be confer'd in this, but a higher habitation. Many examples, e&s;|pecially if common or v&s;uall, con|uert into precept, yet the&s;e which bee mo&s;t vi&s;ible, lea&s;t auaile; for though wee daily &s;ee our acquain|tance, friends, and children taken from vs, yet wee prouide and pre|pare for this life, as if we were irre|mouable, and thinke of death no otherwi&s;e, then as a tale that is re|ported to fright vs, till the &s;troke come home to our owne dores. So fond, &s;o vn&s;ettled be our cogitati|ons. For a man in nothing more &s;hewes the goodne&s;&s;e, and great|ne&s;&s;e of his &s;pirit, then in contem|ning and not fearing Death; for it mu&s;t come, and feare cannot pre|uent it. And me thinks therefore, the certainty of it &s;hould abate ti|midity:
<PB N="127" REF="68"> therfore relie not &s;o much vpon &s;o vncertaine and tran&s;itory an e&s;tate.</P>
<P>And the continuall pa&s;&s;ing a|way of our children, and kin|dred, and friends, by this gate, are but &s;o many guides and fore|runners to vs, and the neerer one is either in affection, or alliance, the application &s;hould bee more particular to our &s;elues. Some thinke to deceiue, or preuent, or delay this blow, and attribute the cau&s;e of it rather to accident, then prouidence; as if the rules of dyet, or Phy&s;icke, were a|ble to oppo&s;e fate; though I di&s;|pute not again&s;t tho&s;e meanes the which God hath appoin|ted for the pre&s;eruation of life; but I e&s;teeme them only as helps, and not cau&s;es of continuance.
<PB N="128" REF="69" MS="y"> All men in this life be &s;ubordinate|ly gouerned: we are naturally bo|dies, and liue not by miracle, but &s;u&s;tentation: &s;o that it is as ill to a|uoid tho&s;e helpes, as to tru&s;t to them.</P>
<P>It is a &s;trange, but vulgar error, for men to &s;ay, coun&s;ell or tem|per would haue preuented &s;uch a mans death; might they not con|&s;ider the &s;euerall, &s;udden, and &s;trange accidents that leade to this end, that there bee not more men then wayes that conduct to this condition? Children die before Pa|rents; &s;trong, before weake; &s;ound, before &s;ickly; which as often hap|pen by &s;mall &amp; vnob&s;erued chan|ces, as great di&s;ea&s;es: as a man goes well to bed, and is &s;mothered be|fore morning; is well at the begin|ning of a meale, and dead before
<PB N="129" REF="69" MS="y"> the end; now in a &s;erious di&s;cour&s;e, and dead, in the mid&s;t of a word. He that's a friend to day, proues a murtherer to morrow; a pillow may &s;tifle, &s;moke may &s;uffocate, a Fly may choke. This, if it were to be illu&s;trated by examples, would plainely &s;hew, that there is no acti|on, nor in&s;trument &s;o &s;mall, or vn|ob&s;erued, that is not ma&s;ter of our life.</P>
<P>Therefore to e&s;teeme life aboue the price, or to feare death beyond the rate, be alike euill. No man can bee in loue with this world, that is not in &s;ome doubt of the next. He that re&s;pects life, ex|pects little beyond death. But then it may be demanded, Are tho&s;e the be&s;t men, that be mo&s;t weary of this life, and therefore ha&s;ten death with their owne hands?
<PB N="130" REF="70" MS="y"> Certainely no. For euery act in that kinde, &s;hewes that it was not in re&s;pect they hated to liue; but becau&s;e of <HI>want, feare, puni&s;hment, ignominie,</HI> and diuers other cau&s;es, that the&s;e examples do dayly pub|li&s;h, and are notoriou&s;ly knowne. Man is created by God, therefore not to be his own executioner, but to wait for the time, and expect the houre of his Call.</P>
<P>A mans Peregrination in this life &s;hould be employed, but as a harbinger for Death, nay rather, life: for whil&s;t we liue, we die; but liue not till death. Yet good men, may in a &s;ort religiou&s;ly feare death, in re&s;pect of the cau&s;e of it. <HI>For the wages of &s;inne, is death.</HI> In re&s;pect of not knowing the place of our being after death (wee our &s;elues being altogether vnmeriting)
<PB N="131" REF="70"> the&s;e, and the like con&s;iderations, may iu&s;tly make death &s;eeme terri|ble. But to goe on.</P>
<P>How can a man think him&s;elfe happy in this world, without the expectatio~ of a better? If a man en|ioy that his heart can wi&s;h, if hee know not want, haue plenty in a|bundance: the&s;e things may &s;ome|times make him glory in him&s;elfe, and in a kinde of &s;cornefull pitie to commi&s;erate tho&s;e that be below him; yet the con&s;ideration of Death, and the little while hee hath to enioy the&s;e temporary hap|pine&s;&s;es, turnes all his plea&s;ures into melancholy, his &s;weetne&s;&s;e, to gall. This is the happie&s;t condition, that the happie&s;t man can haue, that thinkes there is no happine&s;&s;e be|yond this life.</P>
<P>But if you view other men,
<PB N="132" REF="71"> and &s;ee what cares, what haz|zards, what iealou&s;ies, what &s;ick|ne&s;&s;e, and what mi&s;eries, they en|dure in all kindes, onely to pre|&s;erue and plea&s;e them&s;elues in this &s;hort, trouble&s;ome, dangerous, &s;u&s;|pitious, and weari&s;ome life, you would think them rather dreames then &s;ub&s;tances, fictions, then men.</P>
<P>But &s;o liue, as neither the plea|&s;ures of this world may po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e, nor the mi&s;eries confound you. Boa&s;t of nothing in your &s;elfe, but that you are a liuely repre&s;entation or Image of your Creator, which you deforme, if you look to earth, or tho&s;e things which bee below. The benefits which God hath heere be&s;towed vpon you, v&s;e ac|cording to his direction, but not contrarie to his command; and
<PB N="133" REF="71" MS="y"> feare not, but welcome death, as beeing the end of your vnhap|pine&s;&s;e, and beginning of your ioy.</P>
<P>Many men without the know|ledge of Religion, haue excellently expre&s;&s;ed their contempt of Death, but that may bee reduced &s;ome of the&s;e cau&s;es: peraduenture they had a kinde of vncertaine opinion that &s;ome greater happine&s;&s;e fol|lowed, then accompanied this life: or, in re&s;pect of the dayly exam|ples of their mortalitie, cu&s;tome extingui&s;hed feare: or la&s;tly, to perpetuate their memories, or publi&s;h their fame to &s;ucceeding ages, haue for the liberation of their Country, or Friends, or Ho|nour, voluntarily expo&s;ed them|&s;elues to a certaine and pre&s;ent death.</P>
<PB N="134" REF="72">
<P> There be few lingring di&s;ea&s;es, or &s;udden paines, that be not more &s;en&s;ible and painfull then Death, and the recouerie fro~ them, is but as a &s;hort reprieue. Therefore I &s;ee little rea&s;on why a man that liues wel, &s;hould feare death much more then &s;ickne&s;&s;e.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="135" REF="72">
<HEAD>Of a Country Life.</HEAD>
<P>TO write of a <HI>Country Life</HI> in what re&s;pects it is nece&s;&s;ary, or vnfit, for all degrees of men, would too much lengthen this part, in the re&s;olution of &s;un|dry que&s;tions, which I now doe purpo&s;ely auoid; I onely intending to write in the prai&s;e or di&s;com|mendation of it, &s;o farre as it hath relation <HI>to men of great qualitie, and e&s;tates.</HI> So that in this de&s;cription, I bani&s;h all that may referre to any other kinde and rankes of men, either for their v&s;e, or nece&s;&s;ity, of liuing in the Country.</P>
<P>This kinde of life hath beene more familiar with vs, then other Nations; &s;o that we haue in a kinde appropriated it to our &s;elues; more
<PB N="136" REF="73"> Southernly people, as rarely v&s;ing the country, for retirement, or va|riety, or ayre, as our Country No|bility and Gentry, were anciently vpon extraordinarie bu&s;ine&s;&s;es dri|uen to the towne. But different people haue &s;euerall formes of li|uing and behauiour: that which is nece&s;&s;arie in one place, is ridicu|lous and pernicious in another. In the&s;e ca&s;es therefore wee mu&s;t not guide our &s;elues by <HI>precedent.</HI> It is as ea&s;ie to introduce one common language, and reuer&s;e <HI>the confu&s;ion of tongues,</HI> as to paralell all men in one kinde and fa&s;hion of life. Ri|gidly to keepe vn&s;eemly cu&s;tomes, becau&s;e we receiue them from an|tiquity, and ance&s;tors, no man will defend. <HI>Time as it hath a qualitie in &s;ome ca&s;es to degenerat&egrave;, and corrupt; &s;o in others it hath to clen&s;e:</HI> but to
<PB N="137" REF="73"> alter &s;o good a cu&s;tome as this, whereof we haue had &s;o long ex|perience and benefit, vpon pre|tence only of imitation, appeares in my iudgement, to be altogether void of rea&s;on. And yet this, taking it for a generall que&s;tion, I will at this time neither di&s;pute nor re|&s;olue, either by the numerou&s;ne&s;&s;e of ancient precedents, and exam|ple, or force of rea&s;on and argu|ment; onely as the ca&s;e &s;tands, with vs in the particular, con|clude, <HI>That it is neither good, nor &s;afe, to innouate, or alter old and approued cu&s;tomes.</HI></P>
<P>But as in the choyce of any in|different action, mens affections and fancies predominate and go|uerne, they haue equall power, and worke the &s;ame effect in the electi|on either of this, or any other kinde
<PB N="138" REF="74"> of life: but what rea&s;ons in this &s;hould induce vs either to the one or other, that which fals accide~tal|ly by the way, pa&s;&s;ing, I will touch.</P>
<P>By a Country Life, I do vnder&s;ta~d &s;uch an habitation as impliesa reti|rednes from the pre&s;&s;e, bu&s;ines, and imployme~t either of city or court; the di&s;tance and that cour&s;e of life &s;ecluding them from tho&s;e kind of troubles: &amp; how a man of qualitie is to behaue and direct him&s;elfe in this way, &s;hall be my fir&s;t enquiry.</P>
<P>To make liuing in the Country a veyle, or &s;hadow, for ba&s;e and &s;ordid &s;paring, becomes not the thought of &s;uch a man as I pro|po&s;e, whom I name not, as driuen to liue there for nece&s;&s;ity, &amp; neere|ne&s;&s;e, but for honourable and ver|tuous endeuours. Among&s;t which his fir&s;t &s;hould bee to expre&s;&s;e free|dome
<PB N="139" REF="74"> and Ho&s;pitality in his hou&s;e, and bountifull liberality towards his poorer neighbours: the&s;e be the true orname~ts of a Country hou&s;e|keeper; an honourable cu&s;tome, &s;o peculiar to our Nation, that that way we haue out-gone all others; and how&s;oeuer of late it hath been declining and decaying, yet it is worthy of renouation, being &s;o great a &s;tay to the Country, &s;uch a releefe to the poore, &s;o honourable for them&s;elues, and exemplary for po&s;terity, the very knot which con|tracts &s;ociety &amp; conuer&s;ation, a re|ceptacle for ones friends and chil|dren, which be the chiefe&s;t &s;olaces of a mans life, and the &s;ure&s;t way to make a man be loued of tho&s;e that know, and e&s;teemed by all that heare of him. To &s;et downe a par|ticular rate and order in keeping
<PB N="140" REF="75"> of &s;uch a hou&s;e, is not now my purpo&s;e: that it ought to be gouer|ned regularly and religiou&s;ly none doubts; and not replete with tho&s;e confu&s;ed di&s;orders, &amp; riots, which &s;ome licentious &amp; prodigall di&s;po|&s;itions haue allowed. That makes it rather a &s;nare and inuitation to nouri&s;h lewd, and ba&s;e affecti|ons, then to bee either a &s;tay, or releefe to the Country where they liue.</P>
<P>Next, vnder pretence of this no|ble and free life, for a man to take too much vpon him, expre&s;&s;ing <HI>Arrogancy</HI> and <HI>Pride</HI> to tho&s;e be|low him, in his owne opinion, cre|ating in him&s;elfe that greatne&s;&s;e and power, which is not his due; &s;quaring his actions by his will, not rea&s;on; forcing to his ends by the way of greatne&s;&s;e and authori|ty,
<PB N="141" REF="75"> not equity and Iu&s;tice; awing his neighbours with his counte|nance and power; turning law into affection, and rea&s;on to appetite; the&s;e &s;hould be none of the ends in a noble and good nature, when he choo&s;eth a country life; but con|trarily, a purpo&s;e to expre&s;&s;e &s;uch moderation and mode&s;ty in all his actions, that he may be v&s;efull, not oppre&s;&s;ing; &s;eruiceable, not bur|then&s;ome; loued, not feared in the Country where he liues.</P>
<P>And hauing heere, and thus &s;et|led him, his life mu&s;t not be whol|ly re&s;erued to his owne quiet, and particular plea&s;ures; but in that place wherevnto he is called, and de&s;tined to liue, to apply him&s;elfe, and &s;eruice, for the common and publike good; which in &s;uch a life as this, will principally con&s;i&s;t in
<PB N="142" REF="76" MS="y"> the&s;e particulars. The di&s;ordered and vnruly life of tho&s;e vnder his authority &amp; command, (&s;etting a|&s;ide tho&s;e outrages of <HI>Murder, Theft,</HI> and the like which the law puni&s;heth, and impo&s;eth al&s;o a du|ty vpon his vigilancy) he ought be|&s;ides, not only to &s;uppre&s;&s;e, but pre|uent all bold &amp; contemptuous be|hauiour of one neighbour towards another, all &s;eedes of &s;editions and quarrels, and &s;uch common means as in the Country v&s;ually prouoke them. Generally al&s;o, all manner of di&s;temper in the Country ought to be qualified by his iudgement and di&s;cretion; a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> in the better &s;ort, if any faction or emulation ari&s;e, then the vertue of his authority mu&s;t ap|peare in equall moderation. Wher|in he is chiefly to take heed, that when factions be &s;ided, his Great|ne&s;&s;e
<PB N="143" REF="76"> vphold not one faction, to the decay and ruine of the other; but contrarily to euen and com|pound them in mutuall amity and agreement.</P>
<P>Againe, in this place, he is not on|ly to preuent il, but to do good, and that, fir&s;t by his example, in equally bearing part of the burthe~ in coun|try &s;eruices, with the re&s;t of the gen|tlemen, (though in quality below, and in akind depending vpon him) &amp; this not onely in the priuate exe|cution of his dutie &amp; place, but al&s;o in the &s;ollemne and publike mee|tings, for di&s;tribution of Iu&s;tice; which will bee a verie great en|couragement, and inuitation, to awake others diligence, as al&s;o an excellent re&s;traint of partia|litie and fauour, in the &s;euerall votes of the re&s;t, which oftentimes
<PB N="144" REF="77"> re&s;pect per&s;ons, more then cau&s;es, or &s;pleen then truth; this good will follow the endeuours of &s;o great a man, if he carry him&s;elfe euenly, and without priuate ends, in the bu&s;ine&s;&s;es of the Country; other|wi&s;e the mi&s;chiefe will bee more dangerous in awing the Country, then the benefit nece&s;&s;ary in go|uerning it: but if he be of a condi|tion prepared with integrity; then to declare his ability in Country &s;eruices (I doe not &s;ay alwayes to engro&s;&s;e them) will make the re&s;t more wary in their &s;teps, and dili|gent in the vprightne&s;&s;e of their endeuours. But allow his carriage neuer &s;o cleare, if it bee either af|fected, or &s;mell of o&s;tentation, &s;o that one may di&s;cerne either of them to bee the &s;purre of his en|deuours, his labour is lo&s;t, will bee
<PB N="145" REF="77"> imputed to him for vain-glory, and put vpon the account of his di&s;|grace. But yet the cen&s;ure of this mu&s;t not be left to the vngouerned tongues of the ignorant multitude, and enuious people; but to men of quality, indifferencie, and di&s;cre|tion.</P>
<P>The next means of doing good in the Country, wherein mens en|deuours &s;hould neuer &s;lacke, nor their labours &s;eeme trouble&s;ome to them&s;elues, is in compo&s;ing of differences and di&s;contents, be|twixt one neighbour or friend, and another: it is the principall act of Charitie; by this, they not onely doe, but pre&s;erue it: This is the proper work of a &s;uperiour power, mens pa&s;&s;ions will not be &s;o much mi&s;gouerned, nor rea&s;on blinded before them, as betwixt them|&s;elues,
<PB N="146" REF="78"> or more low arbitrators. It is impo&s;&s;ible for men to be com|petent iudges in their owne cau&s;es, their affections will encline, and iudgments leane to their particu|lar preten&s;ions. This peruer&s;ene&s;&s;e is it that brings men &s;o often to the hazzard of cen&s;ures, and &s;uites; which may bee manife&s;ted in the &s;till continuance of their peeui&s;h|ne&s;&s;e; for the murmure remaines when the cau&s;e is &s;entenced, which is the ground of an ill Prouerbe, that <HI>Lo&s;ers may lawfully complaine.</HI> And this mi&s;ery of imputation is it, which Iudges are forced to &s;uf|fer; wherein, in doing iu&s;tly (for that I admit) impartiall iudge|ments will bee &s;o farre from fin|ding fault, that they loue their inte|grity; for a Iudge is to &s;entence according to the merit of the cau&s;e,
<PB N="147" REF="78"> and not to arbitrate in re&s;pect of collaterall circum&s;tances. But I will no farther digre&s;&s;e. It is the be&s;t worke wherein a man in the Country can employ him&s;elfe, to bee a <HI>Peace-maker,</HI> and ender of controuer&s;ies; it confirmes friend|&s;hip; expells malice, auoids need|le&s;&s;e and extrauagant expences; &s;huts the gate again&s;t tho&s;e bad in|&s;truments that moue and &s;tir &s;uits, to make their liuing vpon that prey; expedites cau&s;es; and makes a more indifferent and &s;atisfactory end, then the Iudge in his place can doe. This common good &s;uc|ceedes &s;o worthy an endeuour. And why it is not more common|ly practi&s;ed, I rather impute it to the vnwillingne&s;&s;e of interpo&s;ers, the~ a common peruer&s;ne&s;&s;e in the parties intere&s;&s;ed, to &s;ubmit their
<PB N="148" REF="79"> differences to an vpright and vn|partiall neighbour; which his own actions, if conuer&s;ant in this kinde, will &s;ufficiently a&s;&s;ure: and I &s;ee not &s;uch difficulty, but it may bee po&s;&s;ible this way to giue &s;atisfacti|on to both &s;ides.</P>
<P>But if eithers mi&s;tru&s;t cau&s;e them not to yeeld to &s;o ea&s;ie and quicke an end, the merit of his endeuours and good will cannot bee taken a|way. And if it fall out, that the bu|&s;ines be of &s;uch a nature, as may iu|dicially afterwards come before him, let not the parties ielou&s;ie, be|fore in referring it, wre&s;t or wry his iudgement in the lea&s;t degree to preiudice. I will enlarge this no farther, the&s;e particulars la&s;t touch|ed being onely in the power of men of degree and authority; and heere ends my fir&s;t enquiry,
<PB N="149" REF="79"> how a Noble man in the Country ought to carry and gouerne him|&s;elfe. I now de&s;cend to take a &s;hort view of the more peculiar delights, and healthfull conueniences, inci|dent to them that liue in the Coun|try, then in any other place.</P>
<P>All field delights, as Hunting, Riding, and Hawking, commen|dable, if v&s;ed with moderation, are properly belonging onely to this life, and certainly they greatly in|able, and actiue mens bodies, ma|king the difficulty of enduring la|bour, and other accidents, that in times of warre, a man may be &s;ub|iect vnto, more ea&s;ie then any o|ther preparatiue, or imitable prac|tice that I know. The vn&s;ea&s;ona|blene&s;&s;e of the times, early, and late: and &s;o the vncertainty of the wea|ther, heates, and cold, and wet: of
<PB N="150" REF="80"> dyet, little, or none, or cour&s;e, and at houres vnlimited, and not &s;et, a&s;|&s;ured al&s;o &amp; ready in his hor&s;man|&s;hip, by &s;o often occa&s;ions of prac|tice, which is no &s;mall aduantage. So paralelling the&s;e, with the chan|ces, and nece&s;&s;ities in time of &s;er|uice; the often v&s;ing of the&s;e exer|ci&s;es, will make the labour le&s;&s;e difficill, and hard, when nece&s;&s;ity of employment &s;hall require it, and the body more agill, and health|full, free from tho&s;e infirmities, that re&s;t, idlene&s;&s;e, and full feeding doe bring men into. This is the good that followes the v&s;e of the&s;e exer|ci&s;es, &s;etting a&s;ide the delight which drawes mo&s;t men to follow and entertaine them; which &s;urely, though not alwayes di&s;cerned by wi&s;e men, yet may by good rea&s;on be proued to be delightfull.</P>
<PB N="151" REF="80">
<P> If I &s;hould breathe the country ayre, and digre&s;&s;e into the com|mendatio~ of it, in re&s;pect of health from that cau&s;e, I thinke the whole Colledge of Phy&s;icions would &s;ub|&s;cribe to my opinion: for without doubt, it is freed from tho&s;e noy|&s;ome vapours, and con&s;equently infections, which thronged and populous Cities doe produce. And this dayly practice makes mani|fe&s;t: for in tho&s;e Countries where towne-dwelling is mo&s;t frequen|ted, yet euery Summer the better &s;ort retyre, onely for the freedome, and libertie of the ayre, to their <HI>Pa|laces,</HI> and <HI>Villaes,</HI> as they terme them; which &s;hewes there is a ne|ce&s;&s;arie, and impul&s;iue cau&s;e for their health, that driues them thi|ther. And heere with vs, tho&s;e that be mo&s;t in loue with the towne, in
<PB N="152" REF="81"> Summer euer fly into the Country: and the generall rea&s;on of it mu&s;t onely be, to change a bad ayre, for a good; wherein though the Coun|try doth alwayes predominate, yet in Summer the ayre of the Citie is &s;o farre from good, that it is nei|ther tolerable, nor indifferent.</P>
<P>And being now in a meditation of health, to &s;ay truth, the helpes, and furtherances of it are much more appropriate to a Country then a Citie life, which I will but touch, without robbing the <HI>Poets</HI> at this time, by falling into the prai&s;e and plea&s;ures of <HI>Gardens, Riuers, Fountaines, Woods, places of privacy,</HI> and <HI>retyredne&s;&s;e,</HI> or the like: of mo&s;t of which, though all Ci|ties haue a &s;hew, yet it is but for|ced, and counterfet, in re&s;pect of them in the country, which is the
<PB N="153" REF="81"> proper element for tho&s;e delights. But to return to my con&s;ideration of health, the Country is the place mo&s;t free, fro~ that ea&s;y, &amp; &s;edentary life, which men in Cities be forced to entertaine; there all exerci&s;es for the health, and agilitie of the body bee in dayly practice; as <HI>Riding, Shooting, Bowling, Walking, Hunting, Hawking,</HI> and the like: which though &s;ome towne-liuers, &s;ome|times make hard &s;hift to practi&s;e, yet there, there be &s;o many other diuer&s;ions, that there are very few liuing in townes, who can either take or finde opportunities for that purpo&s;e, which mu&s;t needs great|ly decay, and di&s;able both a mans health, and &s;trength. Of this argu|ment much more might bee &s;aid, but I purpo&s;ely auoid it: and in|deede would haue left it out, but
<PB N="154" REF="82"> that I was forced to it in comple|ting the de&s;cription, for feare of fal|ling from my Title. But I now ha|&s;ten to other ob&s;eruations: and fir&s;t, of tho&s;e aduantages and benefits, a man gaines by liuing in the coun|try.</P>
<P>A man in the Country is retired out of the crowd and noi&s;e of fa|ctions, and emulations, dependen|cies, and neck-breaking of one an|other, which Court, and Town, do too often yeeld, and though a man in his owne inclination bee free from, and not bu&s;ie, yet if pre&s;ent, can hardly be a neuter: or if he be one, will yet &s;carcely be thought &s;o, and &s;u&s;pected of either &s;ide for affection to the other. But take him allowed for a neutrall, hee then commonly is &s;o farre from the af|fection of the &s;ides, that they both
<PB N="155" REF="82"> turne his enemies, becau&s;e he is nei|ther of their friends. The&s;e &s;traites by being away, and by liuing in the Country, men often e&s;cape from.</P>
<P>Next, he is free from tho&s;e tem|pe&s;tuous winds of bu&s;ine&s;&s;es, and multiplicitie of vexations, where|with many haue beene to&s;&s;ed; the calme of the Country being void of tho&s;e &s;tormes, and troubled waues, that commonly accompa|nie a towne, or Court life, where mens de&s;ires and ambitions &s;o a|bound, that they bee alwayes in hopes, and proiections, wherein many times they doe &s;o out&s;traine &amp; ouer-gra&s;pe, that in reaching too high, they ouerreach them&s;elues, in &s;eeking a new fortune, lo&s;e their old, and &s;o conuert their &s;ub&s;tance into preten&s;ions, their certainty in|to nothing.</P>
<PB N="156" REF="83" MS="y">
<P> Againe, no man can expect to liue in the &s;ame, or equall reputati|on, out of the Country, and his owne dwelling. In Towne, or Court, he is as it were, in a throng, wanting elbow roome: there bee &s;o many his equals, and &s;uperiors, aboue him both in place, and me|rit, that he is reckoned for number, not weight; one of the troope ra|ther for &s;hew, then v&s;e. Tho&s;e Na|tions therefore who affect this place, out of vaine-glory, and pride, to &s;hew them&s;elues, and get opini|on, if they compare their e&s;tima|tion heere, with their reputation at home, they will finde cau&s;e quick|ly to change their minde and place, to goe thither where they &s;hall be &s;ure to finde that, which they &s;o affectedly de&s;ire, and that is to their owne Country; aske but
<PB N="157" REF="83"> Northerne men, or Wel&s;hmen, they will &s;weare to you this is true.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides, I beleeue, if it went to voices, mo&s;t would opine, that the &s;tabilitie of a Country fortune were le&s;&s;e &s;ubiect to declination, and the cataracts of aduer&s;itie, then that who&s;e onely foundation is built vpon the pre&s;ent fauour of the time. They who rai&s;e their e|&s;tates aboue, the Hauen they &s;triue for, is a Countrey fortune, that is the end of their ambition. When a man therefore hath that which the Courtier onely aymes at: why &s;hould hee fix him&s;elfe in that &s;pheare vpon purpo&s;e, to looke af|ter tho&s;e things, which hee hath al|readie? If that be not his end, and no other iu&s;t cau&s;e can bee alled|ged, I cannot free him from the
<PB N="158" REF="84" MS="y"> imputations of lightne&s;&s;e, and va|nitie; who be&s;ides the neglecting of that good he may doe at home, offends fir&s;t, again&s;t his owne e|&s;tate, and next, again&s;t the Crowne and &s;tate of the Kingdome, in &s;ee|king reliefe there, for that which he hath vainely, and incon&s;iderately &s;pent; when neither his own abi|lities, nor fauour of the Prince, haue forced the nece&s;&s;itie of his at|tendance.</P>
<P>And writing now as well to ho|ne&s;t, as wi&s;e men, if through their owne infirmities they finde them|&s;elues &s;ubiect to the temptations of high, and ambitious de&s;ires, and de&s;ire to abate them: there is no &s;uch correctiue as a retyred coun|try life. For though in it &s;elfe good and great places, where they meete with men that be fit for them, may,
<PB N="159" REF="84"> out of hone&s;t ends, and for good purpo&s;es, bee both de&s;ired, and kept: yet when the&s;e be only wi&s;h|ed, for the greatne&s;&s;e, and dignitie of the place, it is an inordinate, and vnruly pa&s;&s;ion, and ought to be &s;uppre&s;&s;ed. If a man therefore in his owne arraignment, finde him&s;elfe guiltie of &s;uch thoughts, and withall bee not ignorant of his owne inabilities, let him auoid tho&s;e occa&s;ions that may renue his de&s;ires.</P>
<P>Moreouer, a man that liues in the Country, is more out of the way, and le&s;&s;e obuious to the ma|lice and enuy of bu&s;ie and raue|nous men, &s;uch as build vp their owne fortunes vpon others de|cayes: curious inqui&s;itors into mens liues, and fal&s;e interpreters of their actions, by that way to lay a
<PB N="160" REF="85"> ground for ruining them, and &s;o ray&s;e a &s;tep to their owne aduance|ment. And though a Country Life do not totally conceale a man from the&s;e that be &s;o quick-&s;ight|ed; yet he that takes that cour&s;e, makes them &s;eeke farther off, and they often goe not downe, when they finde worke neerer home.</P>
<P>And la&s;tly, this kinde of life giues a man more free houres, for reading, writing, and meditation, then the publike towne-liuers can po&s;&s;ibly allow them&s;elues; their time in the Country being neither &s;o taken away, nor di&s;tracted, as vnauoidably in towne it mu&s;t of|ten be: both by &s;euerall occa&s;ions, to which their owne wils inuite them, and al&s;o by often be&s;towing them&s;elues, and time, vpon others, out of affection, and re&s;pect, which
<PB N="161" REF="85"> accidents of diuertion, doe more rarely happen in the Country, men being there more free ma&s;ters, both of their houres, and di&s;po&s;ing of them, then they can be in the o|ther place. Many more aduanta|ges might be found; but it &s;ufficeth me, if I haue &s;aid enough, though not all. But &s;euerall formes, and actions, of our Morall life, haue as well their di&s;aduantages, as com|moditie, and &s;o hath this; where|fore to deale, and di&s;tribute, my o|pinion equally, my now &s;earch mu&s;t be to &s;et downe the di&s;aduan|tageous inconueniences that ac|company a Country Life.</P>
<P>As in the choi&s;e, and reading of good Bookes, principally con&s;i&s;ts the enabling and aduancement of a mans knowledge, and learning; yet if it be not mixed with the con|uer&s;ation,
<PB N="162" REF="86"> of di&s;creet, able, and vn|der&s;tanding men, they can make little v&s;e of their reading, either for them&s;elues, or the Commonwealth where they liue. There is not a more common Prouerb, then this, <HI>That the greate&s;t Clerkes bee not al|wayes the wi&s;e&s;t men,</HI> and rea&s;on for it, being a very vneuen rule, to &s;quare all actions, and con&s;ultati|ons, onely by booke precedents. Time hath &s;o many changes, &amp; al|terations, and &s;uch varietie of occa|&s;ions, and opportunities, interue|ning, and mingled, that it is impo&s;|&s;ible to goe new wayes, in the old paths; &s;o that though reading doe furni&s;h, and direct a mans iudge|ment, yet it doth not wholly go|uerne it. Therefore the nece&s;&s;itie of knowing the pre&s;ent time, and men, wherein we liue, is &s;o great,
<PB N="163" REF="86"> that it is the principall guide of our actions, and reading but &s;upple|mentall. Now this knowledge, which is obtained by conuer&s;ati|on, and acquaintance, mu&s;t bee &s;ought where it is, and that is in Cities, and Courts, where generally the mo&s;t refined, and iudicious men, be likelie&s;t to be found: and as reading formes a iudgement, &s;o conference mu&s;t perfect it, or el&s;e it will be lame.</P>
<P>It mu&s;t then follow, that a meere Country life; if men looke as well to the enriching of their minds, as fortune, is not the way to purcha&s;e abilitie, and iudgement; for it both &s;ecludes vs from the knowledge of the Court, and gouernment there, and al&s;o eclip&s;eth from our ac|quaintance, the Great men, and guiders of the State, which any
<PB N="164" REF="87"> man who de&s;ires to &s;tore his vn|der&s;tanding, will finde to be as ne|ce&s;&s;arie to be looked vpon, and tur|ned ouer often, as the mo&s;t v&s;efull bookes.</P>
<P>And this will appeare, if any oc|ca&s;ion or nece&s;&s;itie of bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, force them thither: for they will be then &s;o to &s;eeke, and imperfect, &s;o incongruous in their behauior, and di&s;cour&s;e, that they &s;carce know how to doe their bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, nor they that they goe to, what they would haue. And in this ne|gotiating, &s;uch cannot po&s;&s;ibly guide them&s;elues, by their owne iudgements, but mu&s;t &s;ubmit to the direction of others, who many times for want of iudgement be ill cho&s;en; or for want of hone&s;tie, be wor&s;e adui&s;ers. So that if any oc|ca&s;ion happen, it is vnpo&s;&s;ible for
<PB N="165" REF="87"> Great men alwaies to want them, they be by this long ab&s;ence, both vnknowing, vnknowne, and vn|able to di&s;patch their owne bu&s;i|ne&s;&s;es when they happen.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides, if a man by his experi|ence, and reading, haue gotten much &s;ufficiencie, and abilitie, in the knowledge of affaires, then a totall &s;eque&s;tration in the Coun|try, doth not onely hinder him of that preferment, and honor, which in all likelihood he may arriue too, but robs the State and Common|wealth where he liues, of an able, and fit mini&s;ter, to doe it &s;eruice. Wheras if a man in his own iudge|ment findes that hee may be v&s;e|full, and that his fir&s;t looke is at his Countries &s;eruice, in that ca&s;e the wilfull retyring, and ob&s;curing of a mans &s;elfe, mu&s;t needs be accoun|ted
<PB N="166" REF="88" MS="y"> a fault: for wee are not borne for our &s;elues, and to plea&s;e onely our owne fancies, but to &s;erue the publike in that kinde, and in tho&s;e places, we be thought mo&s;t fit for.</P>
<P>So then as it is ill for men, that know their owne &s;trength, volun|tarily to conceale and hide it: it is al&s;o certain, that continuall ab&s;ence from the face of the world, cau|&s;eth an impo&s;&s;ibilitie in men, though of neuer &s;o good wits, to haue capacitie, iudgement, or expe|rience, to vndergoe the charge of any publike employment, either at home, or abroad, if they &s;hould be called thereunto: which forceth the &s;tate oftentimes to fix their great|e&s;t places vpon men low, and meanely de&s;cended, and though their indu&s;try can neuer bee &s;uffi|ciently commended, who wanting
<PB N="167" REF="88"> tho&s;e meanes, that in all likelihood the nobler degrees might haue had, and haue notwith&s;tanding made them&s;elues more v&s;efull, and able for their Countries &s;eruice: yet it cannot but be interpreted as a di&s;grace, and mu&s;t reflect vpon the ill education, and weakene&s;&s;e of knowledge in our Gentry, and Nobilitie; who, mee thinkes, for that onely re&s;pect &s;hould &s;triue, that as they precede others, in de|gree, &amp; birth; &s;o at lea&s;t to equalize them in &s;ufficiencie, and iudge|ment.</P>
<P>Moreouer the great trade, and commerce of the world, is in gi|uing, and receiuing of good turnes, (I meane among&s;t men of equall condition.) But a Country Life ab|&s;olutely &s;olitarie, makes a man nei|ther capable to receiue, nor of abi|litie
<PB N="168" REF="89"> to doe one, and &s;o they runne out their dayes vnprofitably both to them&s;elues, and all men be&s;ide, as if they neither had friends, nor were friend to any, which is a hard condition for a man to liue in.</P>
<P>Al&s;o it cannot be denyed, but that a mans long ab&s;ence from the Court, and Towne, makes him a &s;tranger to all pa&s;&s;ages, and altera|tions of the world, both at home, and abroad: for a man there will get that by conuer&s;ation, hee will neuer learne either by Letters, or report. Who knowes not, that wi&s;e men to their friends will &s;ay that, which they will neuer write to them? Be&s;ides, if a man hold cor|re&s;pondency abroad, hee is tyed to the Towne, being very hard to keepe it, and liue in the Country. Tho&s;e therefore that thus de&s;ire to
<PB N="169" REF="89"> informe, and enrich them&s;elues, mu&s;t either liue where it is to bee gotten, or el&s;e be content with le&s;&s;e knowledge, then other men haue. And &s;o for the nece&s;&s;ities, and con|ueniences, that may induce a man to liue in towne, for the pre&s;ent the&s;e &s;hall &s;erue. Now in a word, &s;till &s;uppo&s;ing as I begunne, the man that &s;hould either liue, or not liue in the Country, to be of quali|tie and degree, I will giue my opi|nion, how, and in what manner, he mu&s;t di&s;po&s;e him&s;elfe, and then end.</P>
<P>In the forming of this &s;entence, I will be very &s;hort; but fir&s;t lay this foundation, that no man is, or ought to be &s;o ab&s;olutely ma&s;ter of him&s;elfe, as to take the liberty of electing that cour&s;e of life, which onely his owne will, and inclinati|on,
<PB N="170" REF="90"> gouernes and de&s;ires: but to follow and direct him&s;elfe in that way, which his owne abilities, and Countries &s;eruice, make, and thinke him fit to be di&s;po&s;ed vnto: it be|ing one principall end of a mans being in this world, to be &s;eruice|able in one kinde or other, to that Kingdome, or Commonwealth where he liues.</P>
<P>I will therefore fir&s;t &s;elect tho&s;e, whom nece&s;&s;itie and conuenience, &s;eclude from a Country Life: who are &s;uch as be in the place of nece&s;|&s;arie attendance about a <HI>King,</HI> or <HI>Prince:</HI> or &s;uch as finding their pre|&s;ence there well e&s;teemed of; doe for the encrea&s;e, and continuation of their fauour at Court, giue their attendance: but that ob&s;eruance then ought to proceede rather out of re&s;pect, and dutie, then particu|lar,
<PB N="171" REF="90"> and priuate ends: for he is very vnworthy of a Princes fauour (which is freely be&s;towed) if in his loue and hearty affection, hee truely, and reciprocally, returne not the be&s;t of his &s;eruice. Others al&s;o that &s;it at the Helme, and haue the charge of great affaires, and gui|ding in the State, are bound to con|tinuall re&s;idence: and &s;o &s;uch as bee appointed to any iudiciall pla|ces, and Magi&s;tracie, or any other office, that forceth their pre&s;ence in towne: or if a man haue any tedi|ous bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, or &s;uite, that cal|leth them vp, and requires there their frequent attendance. And la&s;tly, it is conuenient, for &s;uch to liue about the Towne, and Court, who haue neither &s;ettled &s;tate nor calling in the Country, becau&s;e a man that hath there nothing to do,
<PB N="172" REF="91"> and little to liue on, can hardly be tyed to a wor&s;e place; while&s;t in the meane time liuing abroad, they make better v&s;e of their time by conuer&s;ation, and knowing of men, as well as bookes, by that way to inable their &s;ufficiencie, for any employment, publike, or pri|uate, in Towne, or the Country, that the &s;tate, and their owne inde|uours, may in time aduance them vnto.</P>
<P>And &s;o the&s;e excepted, I thinke that notwith&s;tanding the conueni|ences, allurements, and aduanta|ges, which cau&s;e mo&s;t men to be &s;o much in loue with liuing about the Towne, and Court, the Country to bee the proper &s;pheare for all of qualitie be&s;ides. In that place they may doe mo&s;t good, as well by their gouernment, and direction,
<PB N="173" REF="91" MS="y"> as ho&s;pitality, and hou&s;e-keeping. For men of equall rankes, can not altogether bee of equall employ|ment, in that they mu&s;t &s;ubmit, to the choi&s;e and opinion of the Prince, and State, and goe on in that path, that they direct them. And though it be true that the grea|te&s;t bu&s;ine&s;&s;e of the State, is com|monly directed and concluded a|boue, yet mo&s;t they there con&s;ult vpon, is for the common good, and that is the good of the Coun|try, which then ought not to be a|bandoned, and left naked. Once allow but that libertie, &amp; there are few Noblemen, or Gentlemen there of qualitie, who will not pick an occa&s;io~ to liue out of their coun|try. Tho&s;e therefore who&s;e &s;eruices be found to be of v&s;e, and nece&s;&s;ity there, and haue no other calling to
<PB N="174" REF="92" MS="y"> diuert them, are bound not to re|linqui&s;h that confidence, and tru&s;t, which the State hath repo&s;ed in them.</P>
<P>But yet it &s;eemes very hard, &s;o &s;trictly to confine and impri&s;on a man of ranke, and qualitie; and truely in my opinion, I cannot thinke it to be either rea&s;onable, or conuenient: for by that meanes their former endeuours would bee lo&s;t &amp; experience abated: therefore I mitigate thus. Their &s;ettled hou|&s;es and family mu&s;t needs bee in the Country: but for to make them|&s;elues altogether &s;trangers from the Court and Towne is too &s;trict, and withall not very &s;afe for &s;uch men to lo&s;e their friends, and ac|quaintance at Court, for the kee|ping of home. Though a man bee not tyed to a continual attendance,
<PB N="175" REF="92"> yet he is to &s;ome, and if he be but now &amp; then there, his e&s;timation, and re&s;pect, will bee rather more, then le&s;&s;e, when hee comes but &s;el|dome. So I conclude, &s;uch a man &s;hould neither be a <HI>Plebeian,</HI> nor <HI>Ci|tizen,</HI> more in the Country: &s;ome|times at Court; mixed together, but as the Frenchmen doe allay their drinke, three parts water, to one of Wine.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="176" REF="93">
<HEAD>Of Religion.</HEAD>
<P>THere was neuer yet Nation; or people, either Ciuill or Barbarous, that accounted not a <HI>Pre&s;cript</HI> or <HI>Law,</HI> for a kinde of diuine thing; and &s;uch vnruly and vntamed de&s;ires, as would not be re&s;trained by that bridle, haue beene euer e&s;teemed worthily to &s;uffer &s;uch puni&s;hments, whether <HI>Corporall, Pecuniary</HI> or <HI>Capitall,</HI> as the lawes haue inflicted. If the lawes then of men doe de&s;erue, and indeede worthily, &s;uch reuerence, without doubt that Law which a mans Maker layes vpon him, doth beyond the degrees of compari&s;on merit a farre higher valuation: the particulars whereof be diuers, but the generall head that compre|hends
<PB N="177" REF="93"> the re&s;t, is <HI>Religion,</HI> a ble&s;&s;ed and mo&s;t &s;acred name, in the right vnder&s;tanding whereof, is conclu|ded the whole labour of a <HI>Chri|&s;tian.</HI></P>
<P>But this word, and the reuerence al&s;o due vnto it, hath gone farre; for the very heathen are &s;ubiect to the power of &s;ome Religion, and &s;ubmit them&s;elues thereunto, as ex|perience, and a number of volumi|nous writers doe manife&s;t. So it &s;eemes all people haue with one con&s;ent ioyned together, to make this the ground, and <HI>Ba&s;is,</HI> of all their other actions, and lawes, and the foundation or principall Pillar to vphold the re&s;t, but &s;ometimes out of Policy, as well as Deuotion: for grant the multitude were awed with the reuerence, and number of their Gods, yet &s;ometimes the wi|&s;er
<PB N="178" REF="94"> Heathen, though they thought it good wi&s;edome to nouri&s;h their opinions, yet had not &s;o little wit as to beleeue them.</P>
<P>Briefely now then to know what is meant by <HI>Religion: It is the true knowledge, and true &s;eruice of God,</HI> in the&s;e two con&s;i&s;ts <HI>Piety:</HI> without them it is maymed and defectiue. The <HI>knowledge of God</HI> is reuealed in the Scriptures, and wrought by faith, which is not <HI>true,</HI> vnle&s;&s;e it be certaine, and not mixed with er|rour, or doubts. And the <HI>true &s;eruice of God,</HI> is a kinde of re&s;trained ve|neration, within certaine Lawes and Ceremonies, and that either <HI>in|ward,</HI> or <HI>outward. Inward,</HI> when a man powres out his &s;oule in Pray|ers, and Thanksgiuing. <HI>Outward,</HI> in the &s;euerall rites, ge&s;tures, and cere|monies of the Church.</P>
<PB N="179" REF="94">
<P> Tho&s;e men therefore, who&s;e one|ly ioy con&s;i&s;ts not in this life, and the period of who&s;e hope lies not vpon their death-beds, will be a&s;&s;u|red that their fir&s;t choi&s;e &s;hould be, the <HI>true knowledge of Religion,</HI> which a&s;&s;ures them of an infinite addition, and continuation of hap|pine&s;&s;e in the life that is to come. This is the hou&s;e built vpon the <HI>Rocke,</HI> this is the corner <HI>Stone</HI> of the building, this is the <HI>Pillar</HI> that will not be moued, in a word, this makes a man vnlike that <HI>Reede</HI> which will bee &s;haken with euery winde.</P>
<P>The <HI>&s;eate</HI> of Religion mu&s;t bee in a mans <HI>heart,</HI> conducted thither by the meanes of <HI>faith,</HI> and <HI>know|ledge,</HI> grounded vpon <HI>Scriptures,</HI> and the con&s;ent of the <HI>Church.</HI> It is a mans <HI>heart</HI> that iu&s;tifies him
<PB N="180" REF="95"> before <HI>God,</HI> his outward <HI>workes</HI> be|fore <HI>men,</HI> by which they may gue&s;&s;e, but not conclude, &s;uch a one to be a godly, and religious man. For if workes alone could iu&s;tifie; the <HI>Heathen</HI> in their moralitie haue out-gone vs, very <HI>Hypocrites</HI> and <HI>Impo&s;tors</HI> goe beyond vs, the <HI>Ca|tholike</HI> glorifyers of works in their blinde zeale exceede vs. Wherefore as it is vnpo&s;&s;ible to iu&s;tifie a man by his <HI>workes,</HI> &s;o it is de&s;perate to iudge a man for his not &s;o frequent working, or not working at all, to our knowledge: for keepe true <HI>Religion</HI> within his bounds, that is, in the <HI>heart</HI> of a man, it is po&s;&s;ible for one to doe the acts of a good man, and yet not to be &s;eene, or marked, for feare of being his own Trumpet, and that &s;o his good deeds may either ta&s;te of vaine|glory,
<PB N="181" REF="95"> or lea&s;t that his owne heart, (con&s;idering the frailety of hu|mane nature, &amp; that him&s;elfe hath &s;ometimes had temptations, and ticklings that way) be puft vp with <HI>Pride</HI> by the Plaudities of other men. This ca&s;e I onely put, not to abridge men of their good and publike acts of charitie; but to a|bate the ouer-bold, and common cen&s;uring that is v&s;ed. And I re|&s;olue thus, that as all the be&s;t, and good deeds, that can be imagined, or were yet euer done, auayle no|thing towards a mans &s;aluation, without they proceede from a tou|ched and religious heart, yet no man can be truely Religious, that expre&s;&s;eth not his faith by his works. By which it is plain, though works be nothing without Reli|gion, &s;o Religion cannot be with|out
<PB N="182" REF="96"> works; they are &s;o vn&s;eparably linked together, they cannot bee &s;euered.</P>
<P>There is nothing, if duely con&s;i|dered, that ought to be more deare, and of greater comfort, and hope, to mankinde, then the true &s;ence, and Religious application, of di|uine my&s;terie: wee now are, anon are not, when all leaues vs, and we leaue all the world, it is the true ioy wee conceiue by this know|ledge, which doth &s;trengthen vs in death, and immortalize our &s;oules. How mi&s;erable were a man, and little aboue the fortune, and happi|ne&s;&s;e of a bea&s;t, being of &s;o &s;hort, and vncertaine continuance, if hee put not a difference betwixt pa&s;|&s;ing &amp; remaining happine&s;&s;e? &amp; if he knew not that the knowledge, and &s;eruice of God were the onely
<PB N="183" REF="96"> way to lead to &s;o happy an end.</P>
<P>The inward thoughts, in the high and reuerent e&s;timation of God, is the fir&s;t degree of Religi|on, for onely the formalitie of it, which is but hypocri&s;ie, and out|ward apparance, is as ill as <HI>A|thei&s;me.</HI> Then as we thinke well, &s;o neede we to know truely, le&s;t our good thoughts, and religious me|ditations, be mi&s;-placed by mi&s;ta|king.</P>
<P>And let no man per&s;wade him|&s;elfe, that there is any action, or vertue, comparatiuely, in this world, of equall e&s;timation, and power, with Religion. It was the commendation <HI>Saint Ambro&s;e</HI> gaue the <HI>Emperour Theodo&s;ius,</HI> that vpon his deathbed, and in extremi|tie of weakene&s;&s;e, hee tooke more care for the &s;tate of the Church,
<PB N="184" REF="97" MS="y"> and pre&s;eruation of Religion, then of his owne extreme dangers and infirmities. And <HI>Iu&s;tinian</HI> in the preface to his lawes, di&s;claimed all confidence in the greatne&s;&s;e of his Empire, number of Souldiors, aduice of his chiefe Commanders, and Councell, but relyed onely vpon that prouidence and mercy of God which Religion had taught him; knowing, the neglect of this duty vvould otherwi&s;e awake Gods Iu&s;tice and wrath: according to <HI>Horace; Dij mult<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> neglect<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter"> dede|runt He&s;periae mala luctuo&s;ae.</HI></P>
<P>It was the policy of the <HI>Roman</HI> State, and they pretended &s;o much reuerence, to their made, and bor|rowed religion, that, as I finde ci|ted from <HI>Varro,</HI> when&s;oeuer the Se|<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">a<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">emet, the fir&s;t thing propoun|ded, had alwayes relation to Reli|gion,
<PB N="185" REF="97"> and no cau&s;e of the greate&s;t weight, or that required the mo&s;t &s;udden expedition; could precede this; becau&s;e (it &s;eemes) as in al their other actions, they dedicated the beginning of it to religious and di|uine wor&s;hip, &s;o they would not vary from that cu&s;tome in their con&s;ultations. And certainly, if an imaginary religion were of &s;o great power with them, much more ought we, in the height and certainty of this knowledge, to &s;ub|mit our &s;elues thereunto.</P>
<P>It is excellently ob&s;erued by <HI>Sa|lomon, Prou.</HI> 29. <HI>ver&s;e</HI> 2. <HI>When the righteous are in authoritie, the people reioyce: but when the wicked beareth rule, the people mourne.</HI> For certainly the pro&s;peritie, and decayes of States, do very much depend vpon good, and religious gouernments:
<PB N="186" REF="98"> morally good, I dare &s;ay all &s;tories will witne&s;&s;e, and that is a hand|maid to Religion: and &s;o I vnder|&s;tand <HI>righteous,</HI> and <HI>wicked,</HI> in this place, as denominating vertuous, and vicious per&s;ons. But for to af|firme, that the pro&s;peritie of States hath been euer in tho&s;e places one|ly, where Religion is truely profe&s;|&s;ed, I dare not goe &s;o farre. For God did heretofore confine, and yet doth not much enlarge (in re&s;pect of tho&s;e &s;ecluded) the knowledge of Religion to multitudes.</P>
<P>But where <HI>God</HI> hath declared him&s;elfe, there good gouernments, if not Religious withall, doe com|monly precede &s;ome &s;troke of Gods Iu&s;tice, Knowledge reuealed alwayes requiring obedience ther|unto, which &s;hould awake the di|ligence of Superiours, to &s;ee the
<PB N="187" REF="98"> &s;eruice of God, and true &s;ub&s;tance of our Religion, not in name one|ly to agree, but in truth to bee an|&s;werable to our profe&s;&s;ion: not that <HI>God</HI> &s;tands in neede of our de|uotions, and wor&s;hip, but procee|ding from his abundant loue to mankinde, to &s;upply our naturall, and &s;pirituall nece&s;&s;ities, which commonly comes not vnbegged, nor &s;tayes not vnacknowledged: and this you &s;hall euer find, where Religion is not truely e&s;teemed, and had in due re&s;pect, mens man|ners turne &s;o depraued, that the force of other lawes can hardly re|&s;traine them.</P>
<P>This is a law that workes as well vpon the re&s;training of inward thoughts, as outward actions, wor|king vpon the minde, and inclina|tion: but our corrupt de&s;ires, and
<PB N="188" REF="99"> deeds, if Religion be wanting, no|thing but the curbe of lawes, can keepe within bounds: and in acti|ons that be forced, there is little a&s;|&s;urance; &s;o that we may conclude, All the vicious, and di&s;orderly be|hauiour of our conuer&s;ation, &s;prings from our &s;implicitie, and neglect in Religion. <HI>Primae &s;cele|rum cau&s;ae mortalibus aegris naturam ne&s;cire deorum.</HI> So &s;aith <HI>Silius.</HI></P>
<P>Without this there could be no &s;afe commerce, and conuer&s;ation among&s;t men. The be&s;t can but bee enclined to doe good one to another, but this tyes all &s;orts to doe it: take away this bond, and we plunge our &s;elues into a &s;ea of al kinde of mi&s;chiefe. No man, no Prince, no State, can be confident one of another, though wee haue often &s;eene pretenders to Religion,
<PB N="189" REF="99"> who make it but their countenance to di&s;gui&s;e their deceitfull purpo|&s;es, and corrupt thoughts: and yet the&s;e, me thinks, if they entred into the con&s;ideration of their mortali|tie, and the va&s;tne&s;&s;e of eternitie, with the &s;ucceeding happine&s;&s;e, or mi&s;eries they mu&s;t endure, they would be more circum&s;pect in the wayes of their liues, which cau&s;eth and continues all the good pre&s;ent, and to come, they can de&s;ire, or ex|pect. <HI>A&s;piciunt oculis &s;uperi mortalia iu&s;tis.</HI> So <HI>Ouid:</HI> and <HI>Horace, Qui ter|ram inertem, qui mare temperat ven|to&s;um, &amp; vrbes regna&abque; tri&s;tia.</HI> This acknowledgement was yeelded to Religion, euen in Pagani&s;me.</P>
<P>The pure, and primitiue part of Religion, ought to bee kept cleere, and vn&s;potted, and they who in|nouate therein, are to bee ca&s;t off,
<PB N="190" REF="100"> and con&s;trained to recognition, not onely for Gods cau&s;e, whom who&s;oeuer neglects, di&s;claimes all intere&s;t in his mercy, and fauours; but euen in Policy al&s;o: for innoua|tion in <HI>Religion,</HI> commonly pre|cedes alteratio~ in <HI>Gouernment:</HI> and generally, mo&s;t &s;editious and con|&s;piring actions, haue their cau&s;e, and pretence, from different opini|ons, and e&s;tabli&s;hments of Religi|on; which euen the Heathen were &s;o carefull to auoid, and found to bee of &s;o dangerous con&s;equence, that both the <HI>Athenians</HI> and <HI>Ro|mans</HI> had particular lawes, again&s;t &s;uch as introduced new opinions in Religion: for attempting of which, <HI>Socrates</HI> was condemned at <HI>Athens,</HI> and both the <HI>Iewes</HI> and <HI>Cal|deans</HI> bani&s;hed <HI>Rome.</HI> Let it then be the endeuour of all good men, &s;o to
<PB N="191" REF="100"> e&s;tabli&s;h this vnity, that it may bee &s;aid of them, as of the people men|tioned in the <HI>Acts</HI> 4. <HI>ver&s;e</HI> 32. <HI>And the multitude of them that beleeued, were all of one heart, and one &s;oule.</HI></P>
<P>It was the politick aduice of <HI>Mae|cenas</HI> to <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> as <HI>Dion</HI> notes it, that in matter of Religion, hee &s;hould &s;hew all outward deuoti|on and reuerence, according to the Law, and forme of his Country, and force others to do the like, and that as well in forme, as &s;ub&s;tance, in which ca&s;e men are alwaies tyed to the rule of the Law, and bound to ob&s;erue it: which cau&s;ed <HI>Seneca</HI> with more affection then religion to write, that <HI>&s;apiens &s;eruabit ea tan|quam legibus iu&s;&s;a, non tanquam Dijs grata.</HI> By which you &s;ee, the main|taining, and continuing of vnity in Religion, was held a point of
<PB N="192" REF="101"> gouernment &amp; policy. But though it be true, we cannot force religion, becau&s;e no man is con&s;trained to beleeue, whether hee will, or no, and that I &s;ub&s;cribe to Saint <HI>Ber|nard,</HI> that <HI>&s;ides &s;uadenda e&s;t, non impe|randa:</HI> yet, there is no doubt but that in all Chri&s;tian good gouern|ments, the people haue been forced to yeeld their outward obedience to the religion publikely profe&s;&s;ed; otherwi&s;e ineuitable confu&s;ion would follow, and Religion would grow into contempt. To preuent which, it is better for a time to force men to outward co~formity though mixt with <HI>Hypocri&s;ie,</HI> then &s;uffer them to continue refractary.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="observation">
<PB N="193" REF="101" MS="y">
<HEAD>Of reading Hi&s;tory.</HEAD>
<P>OF all &s;tudies, either for orna|ment, or vnder&s;tanding, I preferre Hi&s;tory, becau&s;e by an exqui&s;ite expre&s;&s;ion it doth &s;hew vnto vs the Acts &amp; Councels of precedent times. And it is certain, that where neither Affection, nor Flattery, nor Feare beare &s;way, you &s;hall finde perfectly delineated the image of truth, without ob&s;equi|ou&s;ne&s;&s;e, or detraction, committed to perpetuall memory the mo&s;t worthy, and noble&s;t Acts of Great men, without colouring their de|fects; but leauing both their good and euill to po&s;teritie, the one for a patterne of Honour, and Vertue, the other for a direction that wee may not follow their &s;teps where
<PB N="194" REF="102"> they tread awry, le&s;t wee leaue to our &s;elues nothing but an euerla&s;t|ing memoriall of infamy, the true property of an Hi&s;torian being, <HI>Ve|ra, non fal&s;a, &s;cribere &s;ine o&s;tentatione.</HI></P>
<P>Of <HI>Hi&s;tories</HI> &s;ome are <HI>Naturall,</HI> &s;ome <HI>Ciuill;</HI> of <HI>Ciuill,</HI> &s;ome concern the &s;tate of the <HI>Church,</HI> and &s;ome, the affaires of the <HI>Common-wealth.</HI> To them both appertaineth the Hi|&s;tory of <HI>places,</HI> which is <HI>Geography;</HI> of <HI>times,</HI> which is <HI>Chronology;</HI> of <HI>de&s;cents,</HI> which is <HI>Genealogy;</HI> and of <HI>actions,</HI> which is that I now am to &s;peake of, and is principally, &s;ingly, and by a kinde of prerogatiue cal|led <HI>Hi&s;tory.</HI> And the other three, namely, <HI>Geography, Chronologie,</HI> and <HI>Genealogie,</HI> are but a&s;&s;i&s;tants to the &s;ame. This kinde of <HI>Hi&s;tory</HI> there|fore w^c^h I hold mo&s;t nece&s;&s;arie, &amp; profitable, may bee written either
<PB N="195" REF="102" MS="y"> by way of <HI>Commentaries,</HI> which are only a meere relation of things done, without either the Councels, occa&s;ions, pretexts, &s;peeches, or any other circum&s;tances of action; or el&s;e more completely, by ioyning together both times, per&s;ons, pla|ces, councels, and euents. And this is that Hi&s;tory that addeth (if it be read with attention and vnder&s;tan|ding) &s;o mu&s;t &s;trength to a mans <HI>knowledge</HI> and <HI>iudgement.</HI></P>
<P>But not to reiterate the &s;o many and &s;o much decantate vtilities and prai&s;es of Hi&s;tory, nor to pre|&s;cribe the be&s;t way to an Hi&s;torio|grapher (the one being a vaine, and needle&s;&s;e; the other, a pre&s;umptu|ous taske) but onely to &s;hew the meanes how by reading them, to reape mo&s;t benefit for a mans pri|uate in&s;truction, I thinke that the
<PB N="196" REF="103"> fir&s;t con&s;iderable point, is the end wherfore Hi&s;tory is to be read and held in e&s;timation.</P>
<P>And that is (as is the end of all humane knowledge,) to make a perfect man, namely, of an <HI>vnder|&s;tanding</HI> well informed of what is <HI>true,</HI> and of a <HI>Will</HI> well &amp; con&s;tant|ly di&s;po&s;ed to that which is <HI>good.</HI> For who&s;oeuer is &s;o, wanteth no vertue, or abilitie of the minde that can be imagined.</P>
<P>To the obtaining of which per|fectio~, though this be not the only meanes, yet is it the apte&s;t, contai|ning in particular and applyable examples, what many &s;ciences to|gether, in generall precepts, and &s;uch as haue innumerable excepti|ons, can hardly comprehend.</P>
<P>And be&s;ides, though Morall Phi|lo&s;ophy haue the &s;ame &s;cope and
<PB N="197" REF="103"> ayme, and hath beene anciently learned, for the prudent, and vertu|ous gouernment of a mans life, and actions: yet at this day the bookes of it afford matter rather to di&s;pute of wi&s;edome and vertue, and to define and di&s;tingui&s;h of their natures, and &s;orts, then to make a man either wi&s;e or ver|tuous.</P>
<P>And though heretofore they were accounted good Philo&s;o|phers, that could &s;traine, and &s;lacke the bridle of their pa&s;&s;ions, when, and where they ought: that fear'd turpitude mo&s;t of all things, and death lea&s;t: that in their deeds could di&s;tingui&s;h betweene two vicious extremes, and walke euenly in the mid&s;t, not for feare of one <HI>Vice,</HI> run|ning backe as farre as to the other, and finally, that were able to
<PB N="198" REF="104"> ma&s;ter all their affections what&s;o|euer, yet now &s;uch pretend to that Title, as can doe none of the&s;e, but onely Syllogize of them, as if they thought it were, <HI>Summum Bonum,</HI> to define <HI>Summum Bonum;</HI> or Wi&s;e|dome, Valour, and Vertue, to know what tho&s;e notions meant. Whereas hee that by reading of Hi&s;torie, de&s;ires to learne the Art how to gouerne him&s;elfe in the pa&s;&s;ages of this life, &s;hall finde no occa&s;ion to di&s;pute: but either to imitate, or e&s;chew.</P>
<P>It was the cou~cel of <HI>Demetri&abus; Pha|lerius,</HI> to <HI>Ptolomy</HI> K. of Egypt, <HI>Vt &s;ibi pararet libros, de Regno, de&abque; milita|ri imperio, &amp; bello gerendo tractantes, eo&s;&abque; euolueret.</HI> And what better bookes can a Prince haue for that purpo&s;e, then good Hi&s;tories? Hee that would &s;eeke &s;uch knowledge
<PB N="199" REF="104"> in bookes of <HI>Theory,</HI> written by &s;uch as keeping them&s;elues at home in their &s;tudies, neuer once &s;aw an Armie in the field, nor the face of an enemy, is as hee that would goe to the &s;choole of <HI>Phor|mio</HI> to learne the Art of Warre, ra|ther then to the campe of <HI>Hannibal.</HI> But in Hi&s;tories are tho&s;e things written, which <HI>King Ptolomy</HI> might apply to his owne v&s;e, and which none el&s;e dur&s;t tell him of. And though a mans experience of his owne times, may giue him much helpe and direction in all his acti|ons; yet the knowledge of former times, &amp; applying tho&s;e accidents which then pa&s;t to the pre&s;ent oc|ca&s;ions, mu&s;t needs be the greate&s;t helpe to inable vs for action, or councell; and is of &s;uch profit, that one &s;aies, <HI>Hi&s;toria, &s;i ad&s;it, ex</HI>
<PB N="200" REF="105"> <HI>pueris facit &s;enes, &s;in ab&s;it, ex &s;enibus pueros.</HI></P>
<P>The benefit that the <HI>Vnder&s;tand|ing</HI> receiueth thence, ari&s;eth two wayes. Fir&s;t, it becomes enformed, as it were, with matter of fact, by the direct Narration of things pa&s;t, in manner as they fell out. And in this re&s;pect, Hi&s;tory is &s;aid to be, <HI>Te&s;tis temporum, Lux veritatis, nun|tia vetu&s;tatis.</HI> Secondly, it is en|abled by particular examples, and by the euents of humane coun&s;ell, (as by &s;o many rules and patterns) to take the wi&s;e&s;t cour&s;e in con|ducting our affaires to their right ends. And for this effect, it is called <HI>Magi&s;tra vitae.</HI></P>
<P>For the <HI>will</HI> of man, it is al&s;o en|clined to goodne&s;&s;e thereby, when it heareth recounted the commen|dation, and vituperation; the re|ward,
<PB N="201" REF="105"> and puni&s;hment; the ho|nour, and ignominie; the happy, and contrarie e&s;tates, and &s;ucce&s;&s;es, of good and euill per&s;ons, and en|terpri&s;es.</P>
<P>Now that the <HI>Vnder&s;tanding,</HI> tou|ching the bare Narration, may the better apprehend, and the <HI>memory</HI> retaine, what is recounted vnto vs of the <HI>men</HI> and <HI>matters</HI> of &s;uch times &amp; places as are remote from vs, and the faces of things couered ouer, and &s;ullied with the du&s;t of Antiquity, may appeare brighter to our apprehen&s;ion, there mu&s;t bee ioyned to our reading the&s;e helps.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t a good <HI>method;</HI> as namely, the <HI>Hi&s;torie</HI> of what <HI>Age</HI> and <HI>Coun|try</HI> you will begin with, and with what follow. In which point, this is my opinion, that a man &s;hal with be&s;t &s;ucce&s;&s;e begin, at the begin|ning
<PB N="202" REF="106"> of time, and &s;o di&s;cend with it. And for the principall reading, to take the Hi&s;tory of tho&s;e Nati|ons, that from time to time liued in mo&s;t flouri&s;hing, mo&s;t exten|ded, and mo&s;t ciuill e&s;tates: then as it were collaterally, of tho&s;e people that were the &s;ame age in a&s;cent: and la&s;tly, of &s;uch as were then declining, and of le&s;&s;e marke, vntill one come to the beginning of the Chronicles of his owne Country. And then it will bee be&s;t to make that his principall reading, and the re&s;t as &s;econdarie or incident.</P>
<P>Withall, if there be in the bo|die of any generall Story, &s;ome no|table actions regi&s;tred in volumes apart, or de&s;cribed by occa&s;ion of writing the life of &s;ome great Cap|taine, or States-man, or particula|rized in the Letters of eminent,
<PB N="203" REF="106"> and wi&s;e men; the&s;e would bee e&s;pecially, and carefully read in the places where they fall in. As in reading the &s;econd <HI>Punique</HI> warre, written by <HI>Liuy,</HI> I fortifie my knowledge, by reading the liues of <HI>Hannibal</HI> and <HI>Scipio,</HI> in <HI>Plu|tarch;</HI> or &s;trengthen the Story of <HI>Cae&s;ars</HI> time, with the reading of <HI>Cicero's</HI> Letters to <HI>Atticus;</HI> or in reading the volume of the French Story, when I come to the life of <HI>Lewis</HI> the eleuenth, I ioyne there|to that which is written of him by <HI>Philip Comines,</HI> and the like in like ca&s;es; being commonly more exactly, and with more pertinent circum&s;tances in the&s;e manners deliuered. This beeing done, recour&s;e &s;hould againe bee had to the body of the Hi&s;tory. Not|with&s;tanding, I would not wi&s;h
<PB N="204" REF="107" MS="y"> a man to bee &s;o long abroad, or a &s;tranger at home, till hee had read all that precedes the Records of his owne Nation, but rather both in, and be&s;ides the &s;et cour&s;e &s;poken of, be conuer&s;ant in them at all opportunities.</P>
<P>As for <HI>Epitomes,</HI> or briefe vniuer|&s;all <HI>Chronicles,</HI> for one that meanes to goe through all the &s;ingulars, they &s;eeme quite vnnece&s;&s;ary: and for my owne part, I &s;hould le&s;&s;e re|member the <HI>Epitome,</HI> which is for the mo&s;t part a iuycele&s;&s;e Narrati|on, then I &s;hould the actions, with their needfull circum&s;tances, &s;et down at large in a complete Hi&s;to|rie, which in the be&s;t <HI>Epitomes,</HI> may rather be &s;aid to be lopped of their be&s;t parts, then contracted in the totall.</P>
<P>Secondly, there is required a
<PB N="205" REF="107"> due, and <HI>diligent ob&s;eruation</HI> of the times and <HI>Chronologie,</HI> when you finde it mentioned, and the Hi&s;to|ries of the &s;ame age, one to be con|ferred with another in euery point of it; otherwi&s;e there will want, not onely credit &s;ometimes to the <HI>Author;</HI> but al&s;o light to the vnder|&s;tanding of that which is read. For Relations concurrent, if they agree on the time, both &s;trengthen and enlighten each other, like diuers witne&s;&s;es vpon &s;euerall occa&s;ions, depo&s;ing one and the &s;ame truth. And as the <HI>&s;en&s;e</HI> perceiueth nothing without the circum&s;tances of time, and place; &s;o the <HI>vnder&s;tand|ing</HI> (which is the more perfect, as it hath more &s;en&s;ible information) without the de&s;cription of them, conceiueth no bu&s;ine&s;&s;e cleerely. For they be &s;uch circum&s;tances as
<PB N="206" REF="108"> make things pa&s;t &amp; gone to come againe, and as it were be repre&s;en|ted, rather then related.</P>
<P>And therefore al&s;o <HI>Co&s;mography</HI> in the third place, is nece&s;&s;arily to be adioyned, as a &s;peciall helpe to vs in the reading of <HI>Hi&s;tory,</HI> there|by to know the formes and &s;itu|ations of the Regions, Seas, Ri|uers, Hils, Lakes, and the like, euery where mentioned, and the po&s;tures both of one in re&s;pect of another, &amp; of each in re&s;pect of the heauens. For the con&s;titution, complexion, manners, and proprieties of their &s;euerall inhabitants, depend not a little thereon. And oftentimes the qualities of the times, and places, di&s;couer the rea&s;on of an euent, when the Author does omit it. So in the&s;e three ob&s;eruations, namely, of <HI>method, time,</HI> and <HI>place,</HI>
<PB N="207" REF="108"> is contained all that in reading Hi&s;tory is con&s;iderable, &s;o farre forth as it &s;erues to informe the vn|der&s;tanding in matter of <HI>fact.</HI></P>
<P>But now for the other more principall v&s;e of it, that is, to en|forme and enable the iudgement, and furni&s;h a man with di&s;cretion, and wi&s;edome; the&s;e things are to be regarded.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, the election of Authors, wherein I will not pre&s;ume to compare, and preferre one Au|thor before another, (except the &s;oueraign compiler of holy Hi&s;to|ry, between whom and men there is no proportion) by their &s;euerall names, which were a thing both tedious and di&s;ta&s;tfull. But yet we mu&s;t be carefull in our choyce, and haue a &s;peciall regard to the per|&s;ons that haue written, le&s;t by too
<PB N="208" REF="109"> much credulity wee be led into er|rors. For &s;ome haue written for fa|uour partially, for feare fal&s;ly, for &s;pleene &s;pightfully; but a di&s;creet Reader may ea&s;ily trip them. And in generall, &s;uch as you &s;hall think to write mo&s;t truely and mo&s;t ful|ly, vpon the pa&s;&s;ages of euery Age and Region, you &s;hould labour to finde out, and reade ouer. For where truth is wanting, the iudge|ment &s;hall want a foundation, whereon to frame to it &s;elfe any precept, for in&s;titution and in&s;truc|tion of life: <HI>Truth</HI> being the forme and e&s;&s;ence of Hi&s;tory, without which it is but the wor&s;t kinde of <HI>Poetry.</HI></P>
<P>And though it would be hard to finde any one <HI>Hi&s;tory,</HI> (much le&s;&s;e a &s;ufficient number for all ages and places) wherein there be
<PB N="209" REF="109"> not &s;ome vntruths, yet this ought not either to deterre the Reader, or di&s;grace the Author, where the mayne and be&s;t part is truely &s;et downe, but onely to moue a man to choo&s;e <HI>Caeteris paribus,</HI> tho&s;e that haue fewe&s;t fables, and mo&s;t &s;inceritie in the maine drift. And &s;eeing that euery relation is a &s;tory, a man may runne ouer tho&s;e pa&s;&s;a|ges, which are fal&s;e, and fabulous, without preiudice to the profit he &s;hall receiue from the re&s;t. As for example, though he lightly pa&s;&s;e o|uer the many &s;uper&s;titious Narrati|ons of miracles, and prodigies writ|ten by <HI>Liuy,</HI> and other good wri|ters, yet he may gather excellent re|compence of his labour, by care|full ob&s;eruing their principally intended &s;cope; namely, the true, and ample Narration of the
<PB N="210" REF="110"> deeds of whom they writ.</P>
<P>Another thing to make choi&s;e of in a Writer, is <HI>fulne&s;se.</HI> Herein hee is not mo&s;t to bee commended that hath mo&s;t words, but rather he that relates mo&s;t in fewe&s;t words: for &s;ome are large by digre&s;&s;ions, di&s;|cour&s;ing vpon, and cen&s;uring the actors, and acts, as they leaue the Stage. Some mi&s;like this, as procee|ding (it may be) from vaine-glory, or pre&s;umption, to anticipate the iudgeme~t of the Reader, to whom, and not to the Writer, that part be|longs. But I am of this minde, that if it bee done by a wi&s;e <HI>Hi&s;toriogra|pher,</HI> and &s;uch as hath been exerci|&s;ed in great affaires, what&s;oeuer his intent is, (which is to be iudged to be the bettering of his Reader) a man &s;hould e&s;teeme him&s;elfe obli|ged to him the more, as to one that
<PB N="211" REF="110"> goes out of his owne way, to &s;hew another his. Be&s;ides, &s;o many anci|ent and wi&s;e compilers of great Hi&s;tories, v&s;e thus to digre&s;&s;e, that for a man of this age to tax them for it, were to taxe him&s;elfe of <HI>Ar|rogance.</HI></P>
<P>Some fill many leaues together with Orations, which though they are but the inuention oft-times of the Writer, and therefore declare not what was &s;aid; yet they &s;hew what might be fitly &s;aid for &s;uch a purpo&s;e, entring herein the con|fines of the Orator, for our in&s;tru|ction, which is the thing the Rea|der &s;hould ayme at, and not the cen&s;uring of the compo&s;er.</P>
<P>But tho&s;e, who&s;e volumes grow, by a care not to omit any nece&s;&s;a|rie circum&s;tance that accompani|eth great, and remarkeable enter|pri&s;es,
<PB N="212" REF="111"> &s;hould be your chiefe electi|on. For this diligence in Hi&s;tories is &s;o needfull, as without it there a|ri&s;eth no profit at al to the Reader. As for examples &s;ake, Where it is regi&s;tred, that &s;uch a King in &s;uch a place, &s;uch a time began his reigne, reigned &s;o long, builded &s;uch Ci|ties, &amp; was &s;ucceeded by &s;uch a ma~, I cannot imagine what benefit I &s;hould draw hence for my in&s;tru|ction, or how I am the wi&s;er for it; onely I may receiue the content|ment of knowing &s;o much, which is a very &s;mall purcha&s;e.</P>
<P>But the de&s;cription of armies &s;et in array, after this, or that manner, the placing of Ambu&s;hes, the cele|ritie of Marches, the taking in, or preoccupying of aduantageous places, the beleagring, oppugnati|on, expugnation and defending of
<PB N="213" REF="111"> &s;trong holds, the diuer&s;ities of &s;tra|tagems, and &s;uch like, in matter of Warre: the occa&s;ions, and effects, of good and euil lawes, the &s;tirring, the maintaining or appea&s;ing of &s;editions, and con&s;piracies, the po|licy or imprudency of wi&s;e, or vn|wi&s;e Senators, in con&s;ulting, or trea|ting, the humours and cu&s;tomes of Princes, and great Commanders, and &s;wayers of State, and the like, in admini&s;tration of Republikes, be|ing truely and liuely related vnto vs, are the things that &s;o much con|ferre to the enabling of our <HI>vnder|&s;tanding.</HI></P>
<P>And not barely to know the fir&s;t and la&s;t day of a Kings raigne, or what Cities he built, no nor how great a &s;laughter was made at &s;uch a battell, or who killed mo&s;t with his owne hand. For this the Poets
<PB N="214" REF="112"> doe be&s;t, who becau&s;e they wholly take away from men, the precedent councels, attributing them to the gods, whom they call to Senat, vpo~ almo&s;t euery great action, are held nothing &s;o v&s;efull as the Hi&s;tori|an, though they &s;et downe the fact it&s;elfe neuer &s;o truely.</P>
<P>For if, as <HI>Homer</HI> &s;hewes, the <HI>Troians</HI> gaue the <HI>Grecians</HI> many o|uerthrowes for this cau&s;e onely, that at the entreatie of <HI>Thetis,</HI> to &s;hew what need the <HI>Grecians</HI> &s;tood in, of the pre&s;ence of her &s;onne <HI>A|chilles, Iupiter</HI> was plea&s;ed to make <HI>Hector</HI> appeare more terrible, then is here nothing imitable, &amp; by con|&s;equence nothing profitable: but if they ouercame as choo&s;ing fit &s;ea|&s;ons, &amp; places, &amp; other aduantages of fight: the~ there ari&s;eth much for a mans in&s;truction, and imitation.</P>
<PB N="215" REF="112">
<P> Hauing in your hands a good Author, the better to receiue be|nefit by him, there would bee requi&s;ite a&s;&s;iduitie in reading, or at lea&s;t, times cho&s;en that may bee free&s;t from interruption. For to leaue any particular complete Nar|ration in the mid&s;t, or too much intermi&s;&s;ion in a generall Hi&s;torie, are both of them very preiudiciall to the memory: and in this e&s;pe|cially is verified the Prouerbe; <HI>Not to proceede, is to fall backe.</HI></P>
<P>Be&s;ides, as no great vertue can be attained without labour and dili|gence according to <HI>Petrarch:</HI></P>
<Q>Non &agrave; ca&s;o &egrave; virtute, an<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">i&eacute; bella arte.</Q>
<P>Vertue is not obtained by chance, but it is rather a great Art; &s;o in this particular it is &s;o nece&s;&s;a|ry, that who&s;oeuer out of irke&s;om|ne&s;&s;e, or ha&s;te, or impatience, in ex|pecting
<PB N="216" REF="113" MS="y"> the i&s;&s;ue of any Relation, &s;hall runne ouer a Hi&s;tory in po&s;t-ha&s;te, &s;hall be &s;ure to lo&s;e the be&s;t part of the profit, which with at|tentiue con&s;ideration hee might o|therwi&s;e reape.</P>
<P>He that reades, as it were for a wa|ger, though he mi&s;&s;e neuer a word, &s;hall mi&s;&s;e almo&s;t all the matter: whereas the &s;tudious, and in&s;i&s;ting Reader, reades more then perad|uenture a hundred others.</P>
<P>Another nece&s;&s;ary helpe, is the re|ferring of tho&s;e things that are worthy ob&s;eruation to certaine heads, and common places in wri|ting, thence to bee &s;ought againe with more ea&s;e, as a man &s;hall haue occa&s;ion to v&s;e them. In this ca&s;e euery mans own <HI>Method</HI> common|ly &s;orteth be&s;t to his owne profit: and diuers men haue their diuers
<PB N="217" REF="113"> wayes. As &s;ome, con&s;idering that all humane actions fall vnder one of the&s;e three heads; <HI>Thoughts, Words,</HI> and <HI>Deeds;</HI> to them, and to their &s;ubdiui&s;ions, doe referre all their ob&s;eruations. And by this way, no que&s;tion, may aptly bee comprized what&s;oeuer there &s;hall becau&s;e to note; except &s;ome Sto|ries of &s;trange effects of Nature, or the like, which no way appertaine to humane power; which being rare, may be referred to their pla|ces, in the <HI>History</HI> of <HI>Nature</HI> or <HI>na|turall Philo&s;ophy.</HI> Or there may be made the&s;e three places for refer|ring of Hi&s;toricall ob&s;eruations; <HI>Deliberation, Execution</HI> and <HI>Euent. Deliberation</HI> grounded vpon pro|po&s;itions <HI>certaine,</HI> or <HI>coniecturall,</HI> both concerning mens <HI>manners,</HI> or <HI>actions.</HI> In <HI>execution,</HI> to di&s;tingui&s;h
<PB N="218" REF="114"> whether it bee <HI>defectiue, exce&s;siue,</HI> or <HI>equall,</HI> compared to what was deliberated. In the euent whether contrary, or conformable to ex|pectation. Whether cau&s;ed by the prouidence, and execution prece|dent, or by accident. Which things vpo~ euery &s;tory being noted, a man &s;hall &s;traightwayes finde, if a thing hath wel &s;ucceeded, where was the councell, or if euilly, where lay the errour. In this compa&s;&s;e al&s;o falleth all that can bee gathered out of Hi|&s;torie, for the in&s;titution of a mans life.</P>
<P>But for more ea&s;e, if neede be, all the&s;e particulars may be &s;ubdi|&s;tingui&s;hed diuer&s;ly, and placed in a booke accordingly for that purpo&s;e.</P>
<P>Some thinke it vnnece&s;&s;ary to haue for the common places of Hi|&s;torie
<PB N="219" REF="114"> any particular booke by it &s;elfe, becau&s;e they may bee all pro|perly referred to their place, in &s;ome part or other of <HI>Philo&s;ophy.</HI> For how many rules of life &s;o euer be fetched from <HI>Hi&s;tory,</HI> they are but &s;o many <HI>Philo&s;ophicall</HI> precepts; <HI>Philo&s;ophy</HI> deriuing authority from the matter, and examples thereof; as <HI>Grammar</HI> may doe from the lan|guage wherein it is written.</P>
<P>La&s;tly, to compare the ages, and places one reades of, with that he liues in, and when occa&s;ion is gi|uen to make in a mans minde ap|plication of things pa&s;t to the pre|&s;ent, and to con&s;ider whether, and why, they hold, or hold not, is a kind of imaginary practice, to con|firme, and make a man the rea|dier for reall action, though farre from the perfection, that v&s;e it
<PB N="220" REF="115"> &s;elfe, and imployment in great af|faires would bring forth.</P>
<P>Thus much &s;hall &s;uffice to haue been &s;aid of the meanes to benefit the iudgement and <HI>vnder&s;tanding</HI> by reading <HI>History.</HI></P>
<P>The will of man comes to be en|clined to vertue, by the examples which are regi&s;tred of good men, and good acts; and their com|mendations, rewards, and ends; or of euill men, and euill deeds, with their reproches, puni&s;hments, and euents; which beeing well deliue|red, enflame the minde with loue, and de&s;ire to imitate, or with dete|&s;tation, and horror, according to the merit of the thing.</P>
<P>And though <HI>Philo&s;ophy</HI> be an Art that aymes onely at this &s;cope, yet all the precepts therein, will not &s;o &s;oone teach a man fortitude, and
<PB N="221" REF="115"> con&s;tancie of minde, &s;eueritie, and militarie di&s;cipline, temperance, and all other vertues, as will the examples of <HI>Mutius Scaeuola,</HI> the <HI>Decij, Manlius, Fabritius,</HI> and other &s;uch noble <HI>Romane</HI> Citizens.</P>
<P>But herein a man ought thus &s;arre to haue a care, not to &s;uffer his <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="3 letters">ection to cleaue too ea&s;ily to e|uery thing, that an Hi&s;torian &s;hall through humane frailety, and per|aduenture erroneou&s;ly commend, nor contrariwi&s;e pre&s;ently hate what he reuileth, driuing and clea|uing to euery Rocke, according as the tempe&s;t of the writer &s;hal &s;tirre him. But to remember this, not to think well of any thing how much &s;oeuer extolled, if it be contrary to Chri&s;tian Religion.</P>
<P>For prai&s;ing of things, though neuer &s;o euidently blame-worthy,
<PB N="222" REF="116"> if it be done by an Author of re|gard, either directly, or indirectly, by a magnificent relation in termes and words mo&s;t receiued in the be&s;t &s;en&s;e, will in&s;en&s;ibly, and &s;e|cretly bring on a loue to the euill &s;o prai&s;ed; &amp; likewi&s;e di&s;prai&s;ing, will nouri&s;h a mi&s;like of &s;uch things, as de&s;erue com|mendations.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="half title">
<PB REF="116">
<PB REF="117">
<PB REF="117">
<P>A DISCOVRSE VPON THE BE|GINNING OF TACITVS.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="discourse">
<PB REF="118">
<PB N="223" REF="118">
<HEAD><HI>A</HI> DISCOVRSE VPON THE BE|GINNING OF TACITVS.</HEAD>
<P>_THis piece of <HI>Tacitus,</HI> which I make the foundation of this Di&s;cour&s;e, and to which I haue here confined my &s;elfe, containeth 1. The enumeration of the &s;euerall formes of the <HI>Roman</HI> gouernment. 2. The Authors digre&s;&s;ion touch|ing the qualitie of one that is to
<PB N="224" REF="119"> write a Hi&s;tory. 3. The meanes <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> v&s;ed in acquiring and co~firming to him&s;elfe the &s;upreme and Monarchical authoritie. 4. The prouiding for &s;ucce&s;&s;ion. 5. The plotting of <HI>Liuia</HI> for the aduance|ment of her children. 6. The e&s;tate of the times after <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> was ful|ly &s;ettled. And la&s;tly, the cen&s;ure of &s;uch as (when <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> began to grow weake and toward his end) might probably be thought to &s;uc|ceed him. And therefore in this or|der I begin with my Author.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="1"> <HI>[Vrbem</HI> Romam <HI>&agrave; principio Re|ges habuere. The Citie of</HI> Rome <HI>was at the fir&s;t gouerned by Kings]</HI> The fir&s;t forme of gouernment in any State is accidentall: that is, accord|ing to the condition the Founder happens to be of. If one man of ab&s;olute power aboue the re&s;t, bee
<PB N="225" REF="119"> the Founder of a Citie, he will like|wi&s;e be the Ruler of the &s;ame; if a few, then a few will haue the go|uernment; and if the multitude, then commonly they will doe the like. And it is but iu&s;tice, for eue|ry man to haue his owne worke &s;ubiect to his owne will. So here <HI>Romulus</HI> built, and ruled; was the founder, and was the King. The building of this Citie was about 800. yeeres before the Natiuitie of <HI>Chri&s;t;</HI> and con&s;equently from that time to this pre&s;ent, about 2420. The Contemporaries of <HI>Romulus</HI> reigning in <HI>Iuda,</HI> were <HI>Iotham;</HI> in I&s;rael, <HI>Pekaiah;</HI> among&s;t the <HI>Medes, Artycas;</HI> in <HI>Macedonia, Thurimas;</HI> in <HI>Athens, Charops,</HI> who began the ten yeeres gouernment there in&s;ti|tuted; in <HI>Lacedemon, Polidorus;</HI> and in <HI>Italy</HI> there were many petty
<PB N="226" REF="120"> States, of might not much vnequal, whereby this new Citie might the &s;afelier grow vp among&s;t them, and bee the &s;oonerable to match the mo&s;t of them. For if any of tho&s;e States had been of eminent power aboue the re&s;t, it is likely, <HI>Rome</HI> &s;hould not haue beene &s;uffe|red to haue encroched &s;o fa&s;t on her neighbours.</P>
<P>Now we haue &s;eene the times in which this Citie was built, let vs next view how many Kings &s;uc|ce&s;&s;iuely reigned ouer it, and how long this gouernment continued. <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="2 letters">r<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">t, <HI>Romulus</HI> began, and there &s;ucceeded him, after one yeeres in|terregency, <HI>Numa Pompilius,</HI> then <HI>Tullus Ho&s;tilius,</HI> after him <HI>Ancus Martius,</HI> his &s;ucce&s;&s;or was <HI>Tar|quinius Pri&s;cus,</HI> next to him, <HI>Serui|us Tullius,</HI> and la&s;t of all, <HI>Tarquinius</HI>
<PB N="227" REF="120"> <HI>Superbus.</HI> All who&s;e reignes being gathered together, amount to the number of 240. yeeres, and hath beene compared by <HI>Florus,</HI> to the infancy of a man, and commonly accounted the infancy of <HI>Rome,</HI> though I cannot finde that they were much vnder the Rod, till this la&s;t Kings Reigne, who, to his co&s;t, found them already growne too &s;tubborne.</P>
<P>The next gouernment of this State, was <HI>Con&s;ulary. [Libertatem &amp; Con&s;ulatum</HI> Lucius Brutus <HI>in&s;ti|tuit. Liberty and the Con&s;ul&s;hip</HI> Lu|cius Brutus <HI>brought in.]</HI> Euery one that hath read the <HI>Roman</HI> Hi&s;tories, can tell how much this act of <HI>Lu|cius Brutus</HI> hath beene magnified, in&s;omuch as they in&s;tituted in the honour of it, an Holiday, by the name of <HI>Regifugium:</HI> and how the
<PB N="228" REF="121"> imitation of it drew another of the &s;ame race, and name, into &s;uch another action, who came not off with the like applau&s;e, though o|therwi&s;e with the like fate. But I &s;hall neuer thinke otherwi&s;e of it then thus; <HI>Pro&s;peru~ &amp; foelix &s;celus Virtus vocatur.</HI> For it was but a priuate wrong, and the fact not of the King, but the Kings Sonne, that <HI>Lucretia</HI> was raui&s;hed. How&s;oeuer, this, together with the pride, and tyranny of the King, gaue colour to his expul&s;ion, &amp; to the alteration of gouernment. And this is by the Author entitled, Liberty, not be|cau&s;e bondage is alwayes ioyned to Monarchy; but where Kings abu&s;e their places, tyrannize ouer their Subiects, and wink at all out|rages, and abu&s;es, committed a|gain&s;t them by any either of their
<PB N="229" REF="121"> children, or fauorites, &s;uch v&s;ur|pation ouer mens e&s;tates, and na|tures, many times breakes forth in|to attempts for liberty, and is hard|ly endured by mans nature, and pa&s;&s;ion, though rea&s;on and Religi|on teach vs to beare the yoke. So that, it is not the gouernment, but the abu&s;e that makes the alteration be termed Liberty. This <HI>Con&s;ula|ry</HI> gouernment began about <HI>Anno Mundi</HI> 3422. not long after the beginning of the &s;econd generall Monarchy, which was of the <HI>Per|&s;ians,</HI> among&s;t whom reigned <HI>Camby&s;es, Xerxes,</HI> and <HI>Artaxerxes,</HI> all within the &s;pace of fiftie yeeres, or thereabouts. And in the <HI>Athenian</HI> State liued <HI>Themi&s;tocles,</HI> and <HI>Ari&s;tides,</HI> in tho&s;e dayes fa|mous.</P>
<P>Now during this Con&s;ulary go|uernment,
<PB N="230" REF="122"> there were others inter|mixt. [Dictaturae <HI>ad tempus &s;umeban|tur.</HI> Dictators <HI>were cho&s;en but vpon occa&s;ion.]</HI> This Magi&s;trate, for pow|er, was limited onely by his owne will. For time, hee had limits from the <HI>Senate,</HI> and tho&s;e &s;o &s;hort, that their power could doe little hurt, and bred little ambition. They had now authoritie like ab&s;olute Kings, and by and by had no more then a King in a Play. But when it came to the hands of &s;uch as could not ea&s;ily be con&s;trained to lay it downe, they found it of that power, that by the colour thereof the people were bereaued of their liberty, and enthralled to <HI>Sylla</HI> du|ring plea&s;ure, and to <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> during life. But the <HI>Dictator&s;hip</HI> is not to bee accounted another forme of gouernment, but onely an Office
<PB N="231" REF="122"> in the Common-wealth, though for the time &s;upreme.</P>
<P><HI>[Neque</HI> Decemviralis <HI>pote&s;tas vltrabiennium. The</HI> Decemviri <HI>pa&s;|&s;ed not two yeeres.]</HI> After the peo|ple had deliuered them&s;elues from the authority of Kings, and came them&s;elues to vndergoe the cares of gouernment, they grew per|plexed at euery inconuenience, and &s;hifted from one forme of gouern|ment to another, and &s;o to ano|ther, and then to the fir&s;t againe; like a man in a feuer, that often tur|neth to and fro in his bed, but finds him&s;elfe without ea&s;e, and &s;icke in euery po&s;ture. They that could not endure one King, were &s;oone weary of ten <HI>Tyrants,</HI> and for their extreame ambition, vexa|tion, and cruelty, as al&s;o becau&s;e of the lice~tious and barbarous lu&s;t of
<PB N="232" REF="123"> <HI>Appius Claudius,</HI> one of the number, (who for the &s;atisfying of his appe|tite, had iudged a free woma~ to &s;la|uery) they &s;oon extirped that autho|rity: but indeed the thing they mo&s;t feared, was, that they &s;aw tho&s;e who po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed the power for the pre&s;ent, would not giue it ouer, but &s;ought to make it per&s;onall, and perpetuate it to them&s;elues. They were iea|lous of their liberty, and knew not in who&s;e hands to tru&s;t it, and were often at the point to lo&s;e it: but at this time licentious and inordinate lu&s;t gaue them once more an oc|ca&s;ion to &s;hake off the yoke. As a|fore the <HI>Tarquins,</HI> &s;o now the <HI>De|cemviri</HI> &s;uffer for the &s;ame offence. They for the raui&s;hing of a Wife; the&s;e for the intended deflowring a Virgin: the fir&s;t acted, and her &s;elfe reuenging it on her &s;elfe by
<PB N="233" REF="123"> her owne hand; the &s;econd pur|po&s;ed, but preuented by a Fathers hand, in the murther of his owne Daughter. This alteration in go|uernment began 58. yeeres after the expul&s;ion of Kings, about <HI>Anno Mundi</HI> 3500. And 19. yeeres after this time, began the <HI>Peloponne&s;ian</HI> warres. In the&s;e times liued <HI>Pe|ricles, Alcibiades,</HI> and <HI>Thucidides</HI> in the State of Athens.</P>
<P><HI>[Neque Tribunorum militum Con|&s;ulare ius diu valuit. Neither did the Con&s;ularie authority in Tribunes of the Souldiers remaine long in force.]</HI> After the <HI>Decemvirate,</HI> they retur|ned againe to <HI>Con&s;uls:</HI> they were not long content with them, but be&s;towed the &s;ame authority on <HI>Tribunes</HI> of the &s;oldiers; and weary of the&s;e, they had againe recour&s;e vnto the <HI>Con&s;ul&s;hip.</HI> For the State
<PB N="234" REF="124" MS="y"> at that time being young and weake, loued change &amp; variety of gouernments: but the emulation of the Commons, to equalize the Nobility, did giue the principall oc|ca&s;ion to the&s;e alterations. For on whom&s;oeuer the commons conferred the &s;upreme autho|rity, the Senate and Nobility &s;till gained in all &s;uites and offices to be preferred before them, which was the cau&s;e of mo&s;t of the &s;editi|ons and alterations of the State.</P>
<P><HI>[Non</HI> Cinnae, <HI>non</HI> Sullae <HI>longa do|minatio The domination of</HI> Cinna <HI>&amp;</HI> Sulla <HI>did not long endure.]</HI> It is true that the&s;e men attained vnto &s;u|preme power by violence &amp; force, but yet I cannot think that to haue beene the cau&s;e why their power was &s;o &s;oone at an end. For though violence cannot la&s;t, yet the effects
<PB N="235" REF="124"> of it may; and that which is got|ten violently, may bee afterwards po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed quietly, and con&s;tantly. For <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> al&s;o tooke vpon him the Monarchy by force, and yet he &s;o &s;ettled it, as the State could neuer recouer liberty. The&s;e tooke no order, and it may be, had no inten|tion to reduce the State of the Commonwealth to a Monarchy, more then for their owne times, el&s;e they might peraduenture haue found waies how to haue molli|fied or extingui&s;hed the fiercer, al|lured the gentler &s;ort, prepared the whole State to a future &s;eruitude, and what they had obtained by armes, haue a&s;&s;ured to them&s;elues by politike proui&s;ions: which not doing, was the cau&s;e that their authoritie came the &s;ooner to an end.</P>
<PB N="236" REF="125">
<P>[Pompeij, Cra&s;&s;i&abque; <HI>potentia, cito in</HI> Cae&s;arem. <HI>The power of</HI> Pompey <HI>and</HI> Cra&s;&s;us <HI>&s;oon pa&s;&s;ed into</HI> Cae&s;ar.] This was an authority, in the <HI>Ro|mane</HI> State, exerci&s;ed without pub|like permi&s;&s;io~ only out of their own priuate &s;trength. Of the&s;e <HI>Cra&s;&s;us</HI> was the mo&s;t wealthy, <HI>Pompey</HI> the be&s;t beloued of the Senate, and <HI>Cae|&s;ar</HI> of mo&s;t power in the field. Their ambition was equall, but not their fortune, nor their wi&s;e|dome. For <HI>Cra&s;&s;us</HI> was &s;laine in the <HI>Parthian</HI> warre, the which hee vndertooke onely out of auarice. <HI>Pompey,</HI> though hee affected the <HI>Monarchie,</HI> yet hee tooke not the cour&s;e that was fitte&s;t for it; for he then courted the State; when hee knew his Riuall had a purpo&s;e to v&s;e violence, and to raui&s;h it. But <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> knew the Republique to be
<PB N="237" REF="125"> feminine, and that it would yeeld &s;ooner to violence, then flattery; and therefore with all his power a&s;&s;aulted and ouercame it: and &s;o in him alone remained the &s;trength of all the three till his death.</P>
<P>Likewi&s;e after the death of <HI>Iuli|us Cae&s;ar,</HI> [Lepidi <HI>&amp;</HI> Antonij <HI>ar|main</HI> Augu&s;tum <HI>ce&s;&s;ere. The forces of</HI> Lepidus <HI>and</HI> Antonius <HI>came into the hands of</HI> Augu&s;tus.] This was the la&s;t change of the <HI>Romane</HI> go|uernment, and was permanent; for now <HI>Rome</HI> vtterly lo&s;t her libertie. For <HI>Antony</HI> by occa&s;ion of <HI>Cae&s;ars</HI> &s;laughter, beeing him&s;elfe then Con&s;ul, hauing taken armes, which the State feared he would make v&s;e of to &s;erue his owne ambition, and to &s;et him&s;elfe vp in <HI>Cae&s;ars</HI> roome: the <HI>Senate</HI> gaue authoritie to <HI>Au|gu&s;tus</HI>
<PB N="238" REF="126"> to leuy an Armie, and make head again&s;t him. Which he did, &amp; within a while after agreeing with <HI>Antony,</HI> and taking <HI>Lepidus</HI> in for a &s;tale, e&s;tabli&s;hed this <HI>Triumvirate,</HI> which in the end was al&s;o wholly reduced to <HI>Augu&s;tus.</HI> So that hence may appeare, that it is a mo&s;t dan|gerous ouer&s;ight, to put Armes in|to &s;uch a mans hands for our de|fence, as may aduance him&s;elfe by conuerting them to our de&s;tructi|on. To which purpo&s;e the Fable is al&s;o applyed of the Hor&s;e, who &s;uffering a rider and the bit, for his a&s;&s;urance again&s;t the Hart that fed with him in the &s;ame pa&s;ture, could neuer after recouer his former li|bertie.</P>
<P><HI>[Qui cuncta di&s;cordijs ciuilibus fe&s;|&s;a, nomine Principis &s;ub imperium ac|cepit. Who when the whole Sate was</HI>
<PB N="239" REF="126"> <HI>wearied with ciuill di&s;cords, receiued it vnder his gouernment with the Title of Prince.]</HI> The manifold mi|&s;eries that doe accompany Ciuill Warres, and the extreme weakne&s;&s;e which followeth them, doe com|monly &s;o deiect &amp; expo&s;e a State to the prey of ambitious men, that if they lo&s;e not their libertie, it is one|ly for want of one that hath the courage to take the aduantage of their debilitie. And when a migh|ty and free people, is &s;ubdued to the tyrannie of one man, it is for the mo&s;t part after &s;ome long and bloudie Ciuill Warre. For ciuill warre is the wor&s;t thing that can happen to a State: wherein the height of their be&s;t hopes can come but to this, to venture &amp; haz|zard their own, to ouerthrow their friends and kindreds fortunes. And
<PB N="240" REF="127"> they that are at the wor&s;t, haue rea|&s;on to bee content with, and wi&s;h for any change what&s;oeuer. This was one occa&s;ion which <HI>Au|gu&s;tus</HI> laid hold of to e&s;tabli&s;h the Monarchy, they were weary, their &s;trength abated, and their courages foyled. Yet he would not pre&s;ently take vnto him the Title belonging to Monarchy, e&s;pecially not the name of King, but <HI>[nomine Princi|pis &s;ub imperium accepit.]</HI> Euery man that hath an office of com|mand, though neuer &s;o meane, de|&s;ireth a name that may expre&s;&s;e the full vertue of his place, and mo&s;t men receiue as great content from Title, as &s;ub&s;tance. Of this humour <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> retained onely thus much at this time, that hee tooke a title which &s;ignified not authoritie, but dignitie before all the re&s;t: as if
<PB N="241" REF="127"> the people of <HI>Rome</HI> had beene to be numbred one by one, hee thought him&s;elfe worthy that they &s;hould begin with him. Al&s;o hee knew that the multitude was not &s;tirred to &s;edition &s;o much, with extraor|dinarie power, as in&s;olent Titles, which might put them to con&s;ider of that power, and of the lo&s;&s;e of their libertie. And therefore hee would not at the fir&s;t take any of|fen&s;iue Title, as that of <HI>King</HI> or <HI>Dictator,</HI> which for the abu&s;es be|fore done, were become odious to the people. And in a multitude, &s;eeming things, rather then &s;ub|&s;tantiall, make impre&s;&s;ion. But ha|uing gotten the mayne thing that he a&s;pired vnto, to giue them then content in words, which co&s;t him neither money, nor labour, hee thought no deare bargaine. And
<PB N="242" REF="128"> this was but for the pre&s;ent neither. For he doubted not but that the power which hee had in &s;ub|&s;tance, would in time dignifie any name hee &s;hould take aboue the name of <HI>King:</HI> and in the meane &s;pace hee &s;hould keepe the loue of the people, which is the principall pillar of a new &s;oueraignty.</P>
<P>Hitherto, the &s;euerall changes and alterations in the &s;tate of <HI>Rome,</HI> and how the &s;way thereof, after the &s;pace of almo&s;t 800. yeere, be|ing now arriued at her greate&s;t &s;trength, remained wholly in the per&s;on of <HI>Augustus Cae&s;ar.</HI> He there|fore after much deliberation had, whether he &s;hould re&s;tore it againe to the former libertie of a Com|mon-wealth, or conuert the go|uernment into a Monarchy, at length re&s;olued on the latter. The
<PB N="243" REF="128"> meanes he had, and the deuices he v&s;ed to bring the &s;ame to pa&s;&s;e, are now by the Author likewi&s;e tou|ched, and &s;hould follow in order. But becau&s;e <HI>Tacitus</HI> here digre&s;&s;eth, to &s;hew the faults of Hi&s;toriogra|phers, and the vprightne&s;&s;e he pur|po&s;eth to v&s;e in his owne &s;tory, I will al&s;o take his words as they lye in my way, and afterwards pro|ceed with the Hi&s;tory it &s;elfe.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="2"> <HI>[Sed veteris populi</HI> Romani <HI>pro|&s;pera vel aduer&s;a claris Scriptoribus memorata &s;unt. But of the ancient peo|ple of</HI> Rome, <HI>both the pro&s;perous, and aduer&s;e e&s;tate, hath beene recorded by renowned Writers.]</HI> It is a &s;igne of too much opinion, and &s;elfe-con|ceit, to be a follower in &s;uch an Hi|&s;torie, as hath beene already &s;uffici|ently atchieued by others. And therefore <HI>Cicero</HI> &s;aid well of the
<PB N="244" REF="129"> <HI>Commentaries</HI> which <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> wrote of his owne acts, and intended &s;hould bee but the notes, and the ground of an Hi&s;tory, to bee writ|ten by &s;ome that &s;hould afterward vndertake that taske, that though that were an acceptable, and wel|come worke to &s;ome arrogant per|&s;ons, yet that all di&s;creet men were thereby deterred from writing. So, that as it was here to <HI>Tacitus,</HI> it &s;hould al&s;o be cau&s;e enough to any man el&s;e to ab&s;taine from the wri|ting of tho&s;e Hi&s;tories, which are already wi&s;ely, and perfectly rela|ted. The rea&s;on why the times of the <HI>Commonwealth</HI> haue been better Hi&s;torified, then tho&s;e that came after, &s;eemeth to be the liberty that &s;uch a gouernment affordeth. For where the gouernour (who is al|wayes the mayne &s;ubiect of the
<PB N="245" REF="129"> <HI>Annales</HI> of a Citie) is not one man, but a great many, there per&s;onall tax breedeth not &s;o often publique offence.</P>
<P><HI>[Temporibu&s;&abque;</HI> Augu&s;ti <HI>dicendis non defuere decora ingenia, donec gli&s;cente adulatione deterrerentur. And there wanted not good wits, to write</HI> Augu|&s;tus <HI>his time, till by the preuailing of flattery they were deterred.]</HI> Al&s;o vn|der Monarchs, &s;o long as their deeds be &s;uch, as they can bee con|tent to heare of againe, the Hi&s;to|riographer hath encouragement to follow the truth in his writings; but when they be otherwi&s;e, men mu&s;t di&s;&s;emble, if they will plea&s;e, and mu&s;t plea&s;e, if they will haue their writings pa&s;&s;e vn&s;uppre&s;&s;ed. Therefore the knowne Law of Hi|&s;tory, which is, <HI>Ne quid fal&s;i dicere audeat, neque vere non audeat,</HI> that a
<PB N="246" REF="130"> man &s;hould not dare to &s;ay a fal&s;i|tie, nor not dare to &s;peake the truth, mu&s;t needs be abrogated, where Flatterie hath admittance. For there it is more needfull to haue regard to the acceptance, then to the &s;ub|&s;tance of our writings. And hereby Flattery in time commeth to weare out, and con&s;ume the able writers in a Kingdome.</P>
<P>[Tiberij, Caij&abque;, <HI>&amp;</HI> Claudij, <HI>ac</HI> Neronis <HI>res florentib&abus; ip&s;is ob metum fal&s;ae; postquam occiderant, recenti|bus odijs co~po&s;itae &s;unt. The occurren|ces of</HI> Tiberius, <HI>&amp;</HI> Caius, <HI>and</HI> Clau|dius, <HI>and</HI> Nero, <HI>while&s;t them&s;elues flouri&s;hed, were for feare, and af|ter they were dead, out of fre&s;h ha|tred, fal&s;ely written.]</HI> It is the condi|tion of mo&s;t men, hauing been re|&s;trained from moderate libertie in any thing what&s;oeuer, when that
<PB N="247" REF="130"> re&s;traint is taken away, to become immoderate in the &s;ame. For their de&s;ires &s;well, and gather &s;trength at the &s;toppe, which when it is remoued, they runne more vio|lently then if they had neuer beene hindred at all. Hence it is, that hee which flattreth during the danger, &s;landereth when it is pa&s;t, when the truth lyeth betwixt both: &s;o that the &s;ame men that would be|fore for feare mo&s;t haue blanched, are they that when they may doe it &s;afely, will mo&s;t detract. And from hence it is, that the latter end of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> together with the reignes of the foure here named, had not as then found a faithfull relator.</P>
<P><HI>[Inde con&s;ilium mihi pauca de</HI> Au|gu&s;to <HI>&amp; extrematradere, mox</HI> Ti|berij <HI>Principatum &amp; caetera, &s;ine ira,</HI>
<PB N="248" REF="131"> <HI>&amp; &s;tudio, quorum cau&s;as procul ha|beo. My purpo&s;e therefore is to deli|uer to po&s;teritie a few, and tho&s;e the la&s;t things of</HI> Augu&s;tus, <HI>and then the principalitie of</HI> Tiberius, <HI>and the re&s;t, without &s;pleene, and partialitie, the cau&s;es whereof are farre from me.]</HI> The defects aboue mentioned, and want of a true Hi&s;tory of the&s;e la&s;t times, cau&s;ed the Author to take this taske in hand, wherein to auoid the &s;u&s;pition of the &s;ame faults hee hath before taxed in others, he put|teth in to our con&s;ideration that the cau&s;es both of &s;pleene, and af|fection, are farre from him. The&s;e cau&s;es mu&s;t bee either feare, or hope, of future good or euill, or el&s;e &s;ome benefit, or iniury for|merly receiued, which euery wri|ter of Hi&s;tory &s;hould doe well to &s;hew him&s;elfe voyd of, if he can;
<PB N="249" REF="131"> becau&s;e mo&s;t men mea&s;uring o|thers by them&s;elues, are apt to think that all men will not onely in this, but in all their actions more re&s;pect what conduceth to the aduancing of their owne ends, then of truth, and the good of others. Thus much of the digre&s;&s;ion: now followeth the Hi&s;tory it &s;elfe.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="3"> <HI>[Po&s;tquam</HI> Bruto <HI>&amp;</HI> Ca&s;&s;io <HI>cae|&s;is, nulla iam publica arma. After that</HI> Brutus <HI>and</HI> Ca&s;&s;ius <HI>being &s;laine, the Commonwealth was no longer in armes.]</HI> Though <HI>Cremutius,</HI> that cal|led <HI>Brutus</HI> and <HI>Ca&s;sius</HI> the la&s;t of the <HI>Romans,</HI> writing it in a time which would not permit a man &s;o much as to looke backe at the for|mer &s;tate of the Commonwealth, was perhaps worthily puni&s;hed; yet this may be truely &s;aid of them, that they were the la&s;t Champions
<PB N="250" REF="132"> of the <HI>Roman</HI> libertie. For after them no man euer bore Armes for Recuperation of that gouernment. What an aduancement then was it for <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> that the&s;e were &s;laine? For now the Commonwealth re|linqui&s;hed her liberty, and confe&s;|&s;ed her &s;elfe &s;ubdued. So that his &s;tronge&s;t aduer&s;arie yeelding, hee might the ea&s;ilier deale with the next.</P>
<P>[Pompeius <HI>apud</HI> Siciliam, <HI>op|pre&s;&s;us.</HI> Pompey <HI>defeated in</HI> Sicily.] This <HI>Sextus Pompeius</HI> being the re|liques of the <HI>Pompeian</HI> faction, was defeated neere <HI>Sicily,</HI> by <HI>Agrippa</HI> the Lieutenant of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> in &s;uch manner, as of 350. &s;ayle, hee fled away onely with 17. So that this was another &s;tep to the quiet e&s;tabli&s;hing of his Empire. The fir&s;t Ciuill warre was betweene
<PB N="251" REF="132"> the <HI>Cae&s;arean</HI> faction on one &s;ide, and <HI>Pompey</HI> with the Republique on the other, and <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> preuailed. The next will bee a &s;ubdiui&s;ion of the <HI>Cae&s;areans,</HI> that <HI>Augustus</HI> &s;tand|ing on one part, and <HI>Antony</HI> on the other, the authoritie may at length &s;ettle in the indiuiduall per&s;on of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> who hitherto hath had to doe again&s;t the faction of the Commonwealth and <HI>Pompey,</HI> in the warres again&s;t <HI>Brutus,</HI> and <HI>Ca&s;|&s;ius,</HI> and again&s;t <HI>Sextus Pompeius.</HI> How hee will now diuide from him&s;elfe the other heads of his owne faction, is next to follow.</P>
<P><HI>[Exuto</HI> Lepido, <HI>interfecto</HI> Anto|nio Lepidus <HI>being put out, and</HI> An|tony <HI>&s;laine.] Lepidus</HI> if hee had re|mained in the <HI>Trium virate,</HI> might haue hindred the contention of the other two, by keeping them in
<PB N="252" REF="133"> doubt to whether part hee would encline. Wherefore, as if they de&s;i|red to try the ma&s;tery betweene them&s;elues, they won <HI>Lepidus,</HI> who&s;e authoritie was lea&s;t of the three, to di&s;mi&s;&s;e the Legions that were vnder his command, and to lay downe his office. That done, the de&s;ire of &s;oueraigne rule would admit no longer friend&s;hip in the other two, &s;o they fell to warres: and <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> following it with all his power, brought <HI>Antony</HI> (who was already vanqui&s;hed with effe|minate pa&s;&s;ions, and had his heart chained to the delight of a wo|man) quickly to de&s;truction, and him&s;elfe remained &s;ole heyre of all their claimes, and intere&s;ts.</P>
<P><HI>[Ne</HI> Iulianis <HI>quidem partibus, ni&s;i</HI> Cae&s;ar <HI>dux reliquus. There remained not another Commander, no not in the</HI>
<PB N="253" REF="133"> <HI>faction of</HI> Iulius, <HI>but onely</HI> Augu&s;tus Cae&s;ar.] This faction did not di|uide as long as <HI>Brutus</HI> and <HI>Ca&s;sius</HI> were aliue, for then they had &s;oon come to nothing, and the vertue of <HI>Brutus</HI> might haue had as good for|tune, for the maintenance of liber|tie, as that of his ance&s;tor. But when they had made v&s;e one of another, to aduance both of their hopes, then they parted, and con|tended who &s;hould bee the &s;ole gainer. Which happening to <HI>Au|gu&s;tus,</HI> hee had afterwards no more to doe, but onely to keepe what hee had gotten; which hee might ea&s;ily doe. For fir&s;t hee was alone, and when a mans power is &s;ingular, and his intentions are one|ly of his owne free election, hee is then mo&s;t likely to reduce them into act. Companions in &s;uch af|faires
<PB N="254" REF="134"> can &s;eldome be content, that all coun&s;ailes, nay almo&s;t that any, &s;hould tend to the others profit; &s;o con&s;tant is euery man to his owne ends. This <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> fore&s;aw, when he &s;ecluded from him tho&s;e two, that were equall in authoritie and power with him&s;elfe; <HI>Antony</HI> by force, and <HI>Lepidus</HI> by deceit. And now hauing power ouer the bodies of the people, he goes about to ob|taine it ouer their minds, and wils, which is both the noble&s;t and &s;u|re&s;t command of all other.</P>
<P><HI>[Po&s;ito</HI> Triumviri <HI>nomine. Laying away the name of a</HI> Triumvir.] Hee had three rea&s;ons to leaue that Ti|tle; the fir&s;t is of le&s;&s;e weight, (ex|cept in <HI>Grammar)</HI> and that is the impropriety of that word applyed to him that hath charge alone, be|ing proper onely to &s;uch as be three
<PB N="255" REF="134"> in Commi&s;&s;ion. The &s;econd is, be|cau&s;e the name was too meane. For till this time, the <HI>Triumviri</HI> were ra|ther for ouer&s;eeing, then gouer|ning; &s;ometimes appointed to looke to one bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, &s;ometimes to another; but neuer had any whole charge of gouernment of the Commonwealth, till &s;uch time as <HI>Augu&s;tus, Antony,</HI> and <HI>Lepidus,</HI> be|ing three men, equally intere&s;&s;ed in the State, gaue them&s;elues that Ti|tle. But the chiefe cau&s;e was this, that the name carried with it a re|membrance and relli&s;h of the ci|uill warres, &amp; pro&s;criptions, which were hatefull to the people. And a new Prince ought to auoid tho&s;e names of authoritie, that rubbe vp|on the Subiects wounds, and bring hatred, and enuy, to &s;uch as v&s;e them.</P>
<PB N="256" REF="135" MS="y">
<P>[Con&s;ulem <HI>&s;e ferens, &amp; ad tuen|dam plebem Tribuntiio iure contentu~. Calling him&s;elfe</HI> Con&s;ul, <HI>and content with the authoritie of a</HI> Tribune <HI>to maintaine the right of the Commons.]</HI> This officer of Tribune was ordai|ned anciently, &amp; &s;o alwaies co~tinu|ed, for a protector of the people, and a defender of their rights, immuni|ties, and priuiledges again&s;t the vio|lence, and incrochment of the No|bles. The authoritie therefore of this officer, together with the Title of <HI>Con&s;ul, Augu&s;tus</HI> tooke to him|&s;elfe, that euen of the old offices he might haue tho&s;e, that were both for name, and effect, of greate&s;t con&s;equence. And for authoritie, there was none now greater then that of Tribune of the Commons. In&s;omuch as <HI>Tacitus</HI> &s;aith in an|other place, <HI>Id &s;ummi fa&s;tigij voca|bulum</HI>
<PB N="257" REF="135"> Augu&s;tus <HI>reperit, ne</HI> Regis <HI>aut</HI> Dictatoris <HI>nomen a&s;sumeret, ac tamen appellatione aliqua, caetera imperia praemineret.</HI> Augu&s;tus <HI>found out that name of chiefe dignitie, that he might auoid the name of</HI> King, <HI>&amp;</HI> Dictator, <HI>and yet haue a Title of preeminence a|boue other Magi&s;trates.</HI> But the main cau&s;e why hee affected the Title of Tribune, was this, becau&s;e hee thought it be&s;t to make his faction &s;ure with the Commons, who at that time were the &s;tronge&s;t part of the State, by hauing the Title and Authoritie of their Protector. And &s;eeing it is impo&s;&s;ible to plea&s;e all men, it is therefore be&s;t for a new Prince to ioyne him&s;elfe to, and obtaine the fauour of that part in his State, which is mo&s;t able to make re&s;i&s;tance again&s;t him. This <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> neglected not. But rather
<PB N="258" REF="136"> v&s;ed all meanes to draw all men to bee contented with his pre&s;ent go|uernment.</P>
<P><HI>[Militem donis, Populum annona, cunctos dulcedine otij pellexit. He al|lured the Souldiers by large&s;&s;e, the people by proui&s;ion of corne, and all men by the &s;weetne&s;&s;e of ea&s;e, and re|po&s;e.]</HI> Souldiers are mo&s;t common|ly needy, and next to valour, they thinke there cannot bee a greater vertue then liberalitie, from which they thinke all Donatiues proceed; when, if the truth were examined, it would appeare that &s;uch gifts came not from the vertue <HI>Libera|litie,</HI> but were meerely the price of their Countries libertie. But, this the Souldiers were too rude to examine. An open hand drawes their affections more then any thing el&s;e what&s;oeuer. The &s;ame
<PB N="259" REF="136" MS="y"> effect in the minde of the people is produced by proui&s;ion of corne, which if they can buy at a lower price then formerly they could haue done (though peraduenture the mea&s;ure be as much le&s;&s;ened as the price) they thinke then the State to bee excellently gouerned. How effectuall this kind of libe|ralitie hath beene, appeared long before this in the &s;ame State, when as <HI>Spurius Ca&s;sius,</HI> by di&s;tribution of mony, and <HI>Spur. Melius,</HI> by large&s;&s;e of Corne, were very neere obtaining to them&s;elues, an ab|&s;olute &s;oueraignty, and tyrannie ouer the Commonwealth. This is al&s;o one of <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> his de|&s;ignes. Hee &s;teales the peoples hearts by &s;u&s;tenance, and re|liefe, as hee did the Souldiers by his mony. Further he plea&s;eth them
<PB N="260" REF="137"> all with the &s;weetne&s;&s;e of ea&s;e, and repo&s;e. They &s;aw that to beare the yoke of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> was to bee freed of other vexation; and to re|&s;i&s;t, was to renew the mi&s;eries they were lately &s;ubiect to. When they were much &s;tronger, they could nor make &s;ufficient re&s;i&s;tance, now they are weake, they can much le&s;&s;e doe it. Therefore being weary, they could not but be much wonne with the pre&s;ent ea&s;e, and vacancy of Warre, e&s;pecially ciuill warre. So <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> tooke in this, the be&s;t order that can be, to a&s;|&s;ure a new &s;oueraignty, <HI>which, is to to afford the Souldier money, the Peo|ple a good market, and all men ea&s;e, and quietne&s;&s;e.</HI></P>
<P><HI>[In&s;urgere paulatim, munia Se|natus, Magi&s;tratuum, legum in &s;e trahere. Hee beganne by degrees to</HI>
<PB N="261" REF="137"> <HI>encroach, to a&s;&s;ume the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, and charge of the Senate, of the Magi|&s;trates, of the lawes to him&s;elfe.] Augu&s;tus</HI> hath hitherto dealt with the State, as one that tameth wilde hor&s;es; fir&s;t, he did beate and wea|rie them; next, tooke care not to frighten them with &s;hadowes; then, &s;hewed them hope of ea&s;e, and made proui&s;ion of corne for them; and now he begins gently to backe the State. Hee gets vp by little and little. For it is not wi&s;edome for one that is to con|uert a <HI>free State</HI> into a <HI>Monarchy,</HI> to take away all the &s;hew of their libertie at one blowe, and on a &s;uddaine make them feele &s;erui|tude, without fir&s;t introducing into their mindes &s;ome <HI>preuiae di&s;po&s;itiones,</HI> or preparatiues where|by they may the better endure it.
<PB N="262" REF="138"> Ha&s;tine&s;&s;e in any action, e&s;pe|cially of importance, is mo&s;t times the ouerthrow of it, and to doe that at once, which mu&s;t bee done &s;ucce&s;&s;iuely, is an ar|gument of a ra&s;h, and intempe|rate man, that cannot containe him&s;elfe, and &s;tay for his de|&s;ires. Al&s;o to a people &s;o long weaned from a Monarchicall go|uernment, it was mo&s;t probable hee might gaine by degrees, in&s;i|nuation, and continuance of time, more then on any &s;ud|daine hee could. Therefore hee takes vpon him the bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, and charge of the Senate, of the Ma|gi&s;trates, and of the Lawes, and begins now to a&s;&s;ume, what hee had long looked for, and ex|pected. For whereas all the plots and policies hee had before v&s;ed,
<PB N="263" REF="138"> were to this end, if hee had not al&s;o come to fruition, hee might haue beene iu&s;tly condemned of leuity, and his actions to haue proceeded from a vaine-glorious, and vncon&s;tant braine, and his authoritie would haue in time come into contempt. For action and continuall managing of bu|&s;ine&s;&s;e, is the onely thing that pre&s;erueth the life, and vigour of authoritie. And all men giue their re&s;pect, and thinke it due to tho&s;e, to whom they haue recour&s;e in the di&s;patch of their weighty af|faires.</P>
<P><HI>[Nullo aduer&s;ante; cum feroci&s;simi per acies aut pro&s;criptione cecidi&s;&s;ent. No man now oppo&s;ing him, the &s;toute&s;t men being falne either in battaile, or by pro&s;criptions.]</HI> This encroching on the libertie of the State, in former
<PB N="264" REF="139"> times, neuer wanted oppo&s;ers: but now the &s;tout Patriots were rooted out. For &s;uch men being forward|e&s;t, and bu&s;ie&s;t in Armes, mu&s;t needs wa&s;te &s;ooner then the re&s;t, and finding too much re&s;i&s;tance, mu&s;t therefore breake, becau&s;e they were of a nature vnapt to bend. And againe, in the pro&s;crip|tions the&s;e onely were they, that were aymed at, whereas the le&s;&s;e violent aduer&s;aries found &s;afety in contempt. The Pro&s;cription here &s;poken of, being that of the <HI>Trium|viri,</HI> where the heads of the facti|ons ioyning, abandoned, and as it were &s;acrificed their old friends to this new friend&s;hip, it could not be, that almo&s;t any &s;tout, and dan|gerous man, of what faction &s;o euer, &s;hould bee left aliue. And it may bee it was no le&s;&s;e aduantage|ous
<PB N="265" REF="139"> to the de&s;ignes of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> that &s;ome of his own faction were &s;laine, then was the &s;laughter of tho&s;e that tooke part with <HI>Anthony,</HI> and <HI>Lepidus.</HI> For they might haue expected, for the requitall of their &s;eruice, to haue been paid with par|ticipation of his authority, which hee might not &s;uffer, or el&s;e haue growne auer&s;e, and haue pluc|ked him downe, though they had with his fal cru&s;hed them&s;elues to death. But <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> was now rid of tho&s;e &s;tubborne compa|nions.</P>
<P><HI>[Caeteri nobilium quanto quis &s;er|uitio promptior, opibus, et honoribus, extollerentur; ac nouis ex rebus aucti, tuta et prae&s;entia, quam vetera &amp; pe|riculo&s;a mallent. The re&s;t of the Nobi|lity, as any one of them was mo&s;t ready to &s;erue, &s;o hee was exalted to wealth</HI>
<PB N="266" REF="140"> <HI>and honour, and being enriched by the change, liked rather the pre&s;ent State of things, and that which was &s;afe, then the former, and that which was dange|rous.]</HI> It is both iu&s;tice, and good policy, to reward with preferments tho&s;e that yeeld their obedience readily, and willingly; for it &s;tir|reth emulation in men, to exceed each other in diligence. And on the contrary, to heape benefits on the &s;ullen, and auer&s;e, out of hope to win their affection, is vniu&s;t and preiudiciall. For fir&s;t, they &s;hall lo&s;e one benefit after another, through vaine hope of winning them, and not lo&s;ing the thanks of their fir&s;t benefit; and then al&s;o others will learne, and thinke it wi&s;dome to bee auer&s;e and &s;tubborne, by their example. Al&s;o tho&s;e that were rewarded for their &s;eruice, mu&s;t
<PB N="267" REF="140"> needs &s;triue to maintaine the pre|&s;ent State, and helpe to keepe off the Ciuill warres. For times of tranquillity bee alwayes be&s;t for the rich men. In warres and trouble they pay for all, and in de&s;olation their lo&s;&s;e is greate&s;t. For Ciuill warre is commodious for none but de&s;perate vnthrifts, that they may cut their Creditors throats without feare of the gal|lowes; men again&s;t whom the Law, and the &s;word of Iu&s;tice maketh a fearfull warre, in time of peace. But the rich, and &s;uch as were in loue with titles of ho|nour, found more ea&s;e and con|tentment heere, then they could expect in the Ciuill warre, and did accept the pre&s;ent with &s;ecuri|tie, rather then &s;triue for the old, with danger.</P>
<PB N="268" REF="141">
<P> <HI>[Neque Prouinciae illum &s;tatum rerum abnuebant, &s;u&s;pecto Senatus po|pulique imperio, ob certamina poten|tum, &amp; auaritiam, magi&s;tratuu~; inua|lido legum auxilio, quae vi, ambitu, po&s;tremo pecunia turbabantur. Nei|ther did the prouinces di&s;like this &s;tate of things; for they mi&s;tru&s;ted the go|uernment of the Senate and people, be|cau&s;e of the contention of great men, and couetou&s;ne&s;&s;e of the Magi&s;trates for the ayd of the Lawes was weake, being infringed by force, canua&s;&s;ing, and la&s;tly by mony.]</HI> The <HI>Romane State</HI> did not con&s;i&s;t in the magni|tude of that one City of <HI>Rome,</HI> or in the extent of <HI>Italy</HI> alone, but in the multitude, &amp; greatne&s;&s;e of Prouin|ces, that were &s;ubiect vnto it. And therefore it much concerned the &s;urety of <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> his gouernment, to haue al&s;o them content with this
<PB N="269" REF="141"> alteration: which they were for two cau&s;es. Fir&s;t, a <HI>Popular State,</HI> if the great men growe once too mighty for the lawes, is to the Pro|uinces not as one, but many ty|rants; &s;o that not knowing to which faction to adhere, they pro|cure the enimitie alwayes of &s;ome, and &s;ometimes of all, and become &s;ubiect to the rapine of who&s;oeuer fir&s;t &s;eazeth it, and to be the prize of their contention. At home they are commanded by contrary factions, contrary Acts, &s;o that they can nei|ther obey, nor di&s;obey without of|fence: but are hurried, and haled, &s;omtimes to this faction, and &s;ome|times to that. Tho&s;e that were de|puted to do iu&s;tice among&s;t them, mu&s;t not admini&s;ter the &s;ame ac|cording to the Law, but according to the humour of him, whom him|&s;elfe
<PB N="270" REF="142"> followeth; which may bee now one, and anon (fortune chan|ging) another. At <HI>Rome,</HI> if they &s;ued for any thing, though they could all bee content their &s;ute &s;hould pa&s;&s;e for the matter it &s;elfe; yet the furtherance that one facti|on &s;hould giue it, would &s;tirre vp contradiction in the other, and &s;o cro&s;&s;e it. Therefore it is better for a Prouince to bee &s;ubiect to one, though an euill ma&s;ter, then to a potent, if factious, Republique. Next, they found couetou&s;ne&s;&s;e in the Magi&s;trates. For when they ex|pected, that hauing truth, and e|quity on their &s;ides, their cau&s;es, and &s;utes &s;hould not goe ami&s;&s;e, they found contrarily, that by that, their iudgements were not ballan|ced, but that they di&s;tributed iu|&s;tice rather by weight then mea|&s;ure.
<PB N="271" REF="142"> That pur&s;e that was heauie&s;t, that bribe that was greate&s;t, car|ried the cau&s;e Iu&s;tice was not &s;eene, but felt; a good bribe was their be&s;t Aduocate. Such in tho&s;e times were the Magi&s;trates, and Iudges. Euery thing was carried by might, ambition, and corruption. He that was not ambitious, was neglected: and he that was not corrupt, was e|&s;teemed vndi&s;creete. In this time the Prouinces would haue beene co~tent with a Monarchy, or tyran|nie, rather then to be troubled with &s;o different, and ill humours of di|uers men. But there may al&s;o be co|uetou&s;ne&s;&s;e in Magi&s;trates, when one hath the &s;oueraignty, being a fault of the per&s;on, and not of the forme of the gouernment. Indeed, there may bee bribing in &s;uch a State; but in a factious, and diui|ded
<PB N="272" REF="143"> Commonwealth it cannot bee otherwi&s;e. For where the State is vnited, the Magi&s;trates will haue &s;ome re&s;pect vnto that; but being diuided, euery one is for him&s;elfe, and mu&s;t looke to &s;trengthen and enrich him&s;elfe by any meanes how ill &s;oeuer. For <HI>faction</HI> hath no &s;trength, but from <HI>Iniustice,</HI> and <HI>Rapine.</HI> One remedy there is for &s;uch an inconuenience, and that is, if the Lawes bee &s;trengthned with authoritie; which al&s;o wanted in the former times. For force, friends, and mony ouerthrew their validi|tie. For what Law was &s;o &s;trong, that the force of <HI>Cinna, Sylla, Ma|rius, Iulius Cae&s;ar,</HI> and others, in their times could not haue broken tho|row? Nothing is more prouerbiall, then that Lawes are like Spiders webs, onely to hold the &s;maller
<PB N="273" REF="143"> Flyes. Then, fauour and friend&s;hip, made way euen for the weake men to breake thorow. And la&s;tly, mo|ney gaue the ea&s;ie&s;t pa&s;&s;age of all. Wherefore the Prouinces, concei|uing better hope of the rule of <HI>Au|gu&s;tus,</HI> could not di&s;like, but were rather glad of the alteration. Thus farre the acqui&s;t and a&s;&s;urance of the Monarchy to <HI>Augu&s;tus:</HI> now, his wayes to perpetuate the &s;ame, and deriue it to po&s;terity; are to be con&s;idered.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="4"> [Augu&s;tus <HI>&s;ub&s;idia dominationi</HI> Claudiu~ Marcellum, <HI>&s;ororis filium, admodum adole&s;centem,</HI> Pontificatu <HI>&amp; curuli</HI> Aedilitate <HI>extulit.</HI> Augu|&s;tus, <HI>to &s;treng then his gouernment, pre|ferreth</HI> Claudius Marcellus, <HI>his Si&s;t|ers &s;onne, one as yet very young, to the</HI> Pontificall <HI>dignitie, and office of</HI> Aedile.] A Prince that hath rai&s;ed
<PB N="274" REF="144"> him&s;elfe to the Soueraignty of a State, and is once quietly &s;ettled in it, will for the mo&s;t part haue a de|&s;ire to make the &s;ame &s;ucce&s;&s;iue, and will take all opportunities that may further &s;uch his intention. So <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> doth now, and adorns with offices, and dignities, all tho&s;e vpon whom, he thought, he might make the Empire to di&s;cend. Proui|&s;ion of &s;ucce&s;&s;ors, in the life time of a Prince (be&s;ides that it is a kinde of duty they owe their Country, thereby to preuent ciuill di&s;cord) hath this vertue, that it nippeth in the head, and killeth the &s;eedes of ambitious, and traiterous hopes in tho&s;e that thinke of alteration: whereas the vncertainty of the &s;uc|ceeder, breedeth, and feedeth Trea|&s;on in a&s;pirers for many yeeres to|gether. If any man therefore had
<PB N="275" REF="144"> any hope aliue in him, that when <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> &s;hould dye, the State might againe &s;truggle for liberty, or a new forme of gouernment might ari&s;e better to their own li|king, this prouidence of <HI>Augustus</HI> doth vtterly extingui&s;h it. Fir&s;t therefore, he putteth his Nephew into the&s;e two places of great com|mand, that of <HI>Po~tifex,</HI> &amp; the <HI>Aedile|&s;hip:</HI> whereof the former, in mat|ters of their Heatheni&s;h religion, was of &s;upreme authoritie. In pla|ces of authoritie, and &s;ubordinate command, it is no &s;mall policy in the &s;upreme gouernours, and e&s;pe|cially in the principall offices, to place &s;uch as are either tyed in na|ture, or nece&s;&s;itie vnto them; that as they them&s;elues haue &s;uprema|cie in command, &s;o all their vnder|mini&s;ters may bee &s;o fa&s;t vnto
<PB N="276" REF="145"> them, that their actions may bee alwayes limited according to the will, and affection of their Soue|raigne, by whom they were en|&s;talled, and ordained for that pur|po&s;e, to the places they hold. This was one &s;tay and &s;trength of his gouernment, to put into the hands of his Nephew (as I may &s;o &s;ay) the Supremacy in matters Eccle&s;ia|&s;ticall, which is one of the chiefe&s;t guides of a Commonwealth.</P>
<P>[Marcum Agrippam <HI>ignobilem lo|co, bonum militia, &amp; victoriae &s;o|cium, geminatis</HI> Con&s;ulatibus <HI>extulit. Hee makes</HI> Marcus Agrippa, <HI>one de&s;cended meanely, but a good Soul|dier, and companion with him in his victories, twice together</HI> Con&s;ul.] After hee had aduanced his Ne|phew, the next that he exalteth to dignity, was his friend. Wherein
<PB N="277" REF="145"> we may perceiue, that in the opini|on of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> when a Prince hath a Mini&s;ter of valor, and worth, which may make him capable of great place, the meanene&s;&s;e of his birth ought to be no barre to his ri|&s;ing. Againe, in rai&s;ing him, fir&s;t he &s;hould not neede to feare that hee might enda~ger him, being one that could pre&s;ume &s;o little of his Nobi|litie. For a man that by his ver|tue rai&s;eth him&s;elfe from out of the common people, &s;hall more often get enuy from the multitude, then any popular applau&s;e, and con&s;equently cannot be very dan|gerous. So <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> conferred that honour &s;afely. Be&s;ides, <HI>Agrippa,</HI> in that hee was a good Souldier, de&s;erued to haue the reward of his vertue, which is honor. And la&s;tly, as the companion of his Victories,
<PB N="278" REF="146"> he de&s;erued to participate of &s;ome fruit thereof. Which <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> might al&s;o co~&s;ider, not &s;o much for his company in the warre, as in the Victory. For men reward the &s;uc|ce&s;&s;e of actions done on their be|halfes, rather then the labour, and vertue, or the danger which they expo&s;e them&s;elues vnto in the &s;ame. The office of <HI>Con&s;ul</HI> was a great place, and had beene in for|mer times of &s;upreme power in the Commonwealth: yet <HI>Agrippa</HI> be|ing a man, of who&s;e faith, loue, and worth, he had had long expe|rience, and for the rea&s;ons before recited, he doubted not to be&s;towe the &s;ame vpon him twice together: and more then that, intends to make him another &s;tay, and hope of the &s;ucce&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P><HI>[Mox defuncto</HI> Marcello <HI>gene|rum</HI>
<PB N="279" REF="146"> <HI>&s;ump&s;it. Shortly after when</HI> Mar|cellus <HI>was dead, hee makes him his &s;on in law.]</HI> The greatne&s;&s;e of this bene|fit, be&s;towed on one that could no waies exact, or extort it fro~ <HI>Augu&s;t&abus;,</HI> giueth here an occa&s;ion to enquire into the minds of all men in the matter of giuing and receiuing be|nefits. <HI>Tacitus</HI> in the fir&s;t booke of his <HI>Hi&s;tories,</HI> &s;aith, <HI>Beneficia eo v&s;que e&s;&s;e laeta, dum exolui po&s;sunt. That be|nefits receiued are plea&s;ing &s;o long as they be requitable.</HI> When once they exceed that, they are an intolerable burthen, and men &s;eldome are wil|ling to acknowledge them; for who but a man of de&s;perate e&s;tate will &s;et his hand to &s;uch an obliga|tion, as hee knowes hee neuer can di&s;charge? This is the rea&s;on that Princes are &s;o &s;low in aduancing &s;ome men, that haue de&s;erued it;
<PB N="280" REF="147"> becau&s;e they cannot ea&s;ily doe it according to their full merit, or el&s;e they thinke it will not be &s;o taken: So that they &s;hould, by rewarding them, both pay, and yet remaine in debt. And generally all men, but Princes mo&s;t of all, hate acknow|ledgement, &amp; like not to haue &s;uch great Creditors in their eye; but will rather bee content to take ad|uantage again&s;t them, as again&s;t &s;o many vpbraiders of ingrati|tude: So that great &s;eruices pro|cure many times rather the ha|tred then the loue of him they are done vnto. On the contrary, when men can, without le&s;&s;ening of them&s;elues, reward tho&s;e to whom they haue been beholding, &s;o as to &s;atisfie them according to their owne e&s;timate, they will then ouer-doe it, and heape one fauour
<PB N="281" REF="147"> vpo~ another, thinking by &s;hewing their affection to them, to gaine theirs in the &s;ame proportion: but it falls not &s;o out in humane nature; for benefits encrea&s;e the loue of the be&s;tower, more then of him that receiueth them: for as it is <HI>proprium humani ingenij odi&s;&s;e quem lae&s;eris,</HI> the propertie of humane nature, to hate tho&s;e they haue wronged; &s;o al&s;o is it on the contrary, to loue tho&s;e to whom they haue beene beneficiall. <HI>Agrippa</HI> had done great &s;eruice to <HI>Augu&s;tus;</HI> but <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> was now able, without diminution of him|&s;elfe, both to requite and &s;urmount him; and therefore leaues out no|thing that may expre&s;&s;e his grati|tude, but makes him his Sonne in Law, whereby his children might become heyres euen to <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI>
<PB N="282" REF="148"> his owne power, which was the ab&s;olute &s;oueraignty of the whole Empire. Which act of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> as it proceeded out of affection, &s;o it al&s;o agreed with good policy; for whom &s;hould hee more tru&s;t, then one who&s;e loue had beene &s;o much &s;hewed, who&s;e fidelity &s;o much tryed? And therefore he &s;ets him neere him&s;elfe, and <HI>(Marcellus</HI> being now dead) be&s;towes on him the widdow <HI>Iulia,</HI> his onely childe.</P>
<P>But heere I mu&s;t haue leaue to tran&s;po&s;e the&s;e few lines of the Au|thor, to the end that that which touches the aduancement of the children of <HI>Liuia,</HI> may afterwards be ioyned together.</P>
<P>After this, hee aduanceth the Children that <HI>Agrippa</HI> had by this match. <HI>[Genitos</HI> Agrippa, Caium
<PB N="283" REF="148"> <HI>&amp;</HI> Lucium, <HI>in familiam</HI> Cae&s;arum <HI>induxerat, nec dum po&s;ita puerili prae|texta,</HI> Principes inuentutis, <HI>appella|ri, de&s;tinari</HI> Con&s;ules, <HI>&s;pecie recu|&s;antis, flagranti&s;&s;im&egrave; cupiuerat. Hee receiued</HI> Caius <HI>and</HI> Lucius, <HI>the chil-of</HI> Agrippa, <HI>into the</HI> Cae&s;arean <HI>fami|lie, and &s;eeming to refu&s;e, mo&s;t ardent|ly de&s;ired to haue them, while they were yet but boyes, to bee called</HI> Princes of the youth, <HI>and to bee de&s;igned for the</HI> Con&s;ul&s;hip.] His &s;i&s;ters &s;onne <HI>Marcellus</HI> being dead, and hauing now of his own off-&s;pring to &s;uc|ceed him, hee de&s;ires that the peo|ple would be plea&s;ed to take notice of them betimes, and in his life time, to put them into &s;ome po&s;&s;e&s;|&s;ion of their future dignity. Hee would therefore now, whil&s;t they were in their minority, haue them honoured fir&s;t with the title of
<PB N="284" REF="149"> <HI>Princes of youth.</HI> This title, did im|ply as much as Heyres apparant of the Empire. And to giue it, was to admit and openly con&s;ent, that the State &s;hould be, not only the po&s;&s;e&s;|&s;ion of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> for his owne life, but al&s;o the inherita~ce of his de&s;ce~|dents for euer. Secondly, with being <HI>Con&s;uls</HI> elect, that they might haue &s;ome command of importance, as &s;oone as their age could beare it. Though <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> had force to bring this to pa&s;&s;e, yet hee was loth againe to irritate the minds of his new &s;ubiects; and therefore hee would not openly &s;o much as make &s;hew of this his de&s;ire touch|ing his Grand-&s;onnes, le&s;t they who were content to obey him for his owne time, vpon this offering them a Succe&s;&s;or, as the perpetuation of their &s;eruitude, might turne de&s;pe|rate,
<PB N="285" REF="149"> and do &s;ome &s;uch act as might di&s;plea&s;e him. But he turnes to di&s;|&s;imulation, which was in tho&s;e times held an in&s;eparable accident of a politique Prince. Hee makes &s;hew of refu&s;ing, and yet mo&s;t ar|dently de&s;ires it; and that de&s;ire mu&s;t al&s;o appeare by the refu&s;all. And tho&s;e that &s;aw him thus re|fu&s;e, dur&s;t doe no other then force his con&s;ent, and put the&s;e honors on his Grand-&s;onnes, whether hee would, or not.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="5"> [Tiberium Neronem <HI>&amp;</HI> Clau|dium Dru&s;um <HI>priuignos Imperato|rijs nominibus auxit, integra etiam dum domo &s;ua. And his owne hou&s;e not yet failing, hee adornes with impe|riall titles</HI> Tiberius Nero, <HI>and</HI> Clau|dius Dru&s;us, <HI>his wiues children.] Augu&s;tus,</HI> to make the &s;ucce&s;&s;ion certaine, and not to haue it depend
<PB N="286" REF="150"> vpon the liues onely of two, and tho&s;e but young, aduanceth al&s;o the &s;onnes of his wife, men of mature yeares, and &s;eene in the warres, and honoured them with imperiall ti|tles, that if his owne i&s;&s;ue failed, hee might leaue a &s;ucceeder, &s;uch as his owne affection &s;hould make choyce of. This cour&s;e in the ge|nerall, is to be e&s;teemed in a Prince both a prouident one for him&s;elfe, and al&s;o in a manner nece&s;&s;ary for the publike good of his &s;ubiects, con&s;idering the bloudy and fear|full warres, that haue followed vp|on the death of &s;uch as haue not prouided a &s;ucce&s;&s;or before their decea&s;e. But yet it falleth out other|wi&s;e in &s;ome particulars, then ac|cording to the intention of him that &s;o nominateth his &s;ucceeder; as it did in this: for had <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI>
<PB N="287" REF="150"> thought it &s;hould &s;o much haue preiudiced his owne bloud, to ad|uance tho&s;e of his wiues, he would I thinke haue left them in ob&s;curi|ty. Therefore it is not good for a Prince in appointing his &s;uccee|ders, to leaue the reuer&s;ion of the State to &s;uch as may haue power and meanes to &s;ubuert the fir&s;t heyres thereof. Thus farre he hath beene tying the knot of &s;ucce&s;&s;ion, which now <HI>Liuia</HI> his wife begin|neth on one part to vntye, or rather cut a&s;under, for the &s;trengthening of the other.</P>
<P><HI>[Vt</HI> Agrippa <HI>vita conce&s;&s;it,</HI> Luci|um Cae&s;arem <HI>euntem ad</HI> Hi&s;panien|&s;es <HI>exercitus,</HI> Caium <HI>remeantem</HI> Ar|menia, <HI>et vulnere invalidum, mors fato propera, velnouercae</HI> Liuiae <HI>dolus ab&s;tulit. A&s;&s;oone as</HI> Agrippa <HI>was dead,</HI> Lucius Cae&s;ar <HI>going to take</HI>
<PB N="288" REF="151"> <HI>charge of the Army in</HI> Spaine, <HI>and</HI> Caius <HI>comming from</HI> Armenia, <HI>vn|timely Death by fate, or el&s;e by the trechery of their Step-mother</HI> Liuia, <HI>tooke away.]</HI> As the watchfulne&s;&s;e of a faithfull, and wi&s;e Coun&s;ellor about a Prince, often checketh the very thoughts towards trea&s;on; &s;o on the contrary, the death of &s;uch a one wonderfully facilitates the de&s;ignes of a traytor. When <HI>Agrippa</HI> was dead, his &s;onnes did not long out-liue him, and though <HI>Tacitus</HI> heere doth not accu&s;e <HI>Li|uia</HI> directly of their death, yet there may bee gathered the&s;e pre&s;umpti|ons again&s;t her. Fir&s;t, her ambiti|ous and plotting humor. Then their ha&s;ty and opportune death; as if fate, (if their death were meer|ly naturall) had beene of Coun&s;ell with her. And la&s;tly, the benefit
<PB N="289" REF="151"> which thereby accrewed vnto her owne &s;onnes. This la&s;t is of much importance in the iudgement of men: for to whom&s;oeuer comes the profit of &s;trange and vnexpec|ted accidents, to him al&s;o, for the mo&s;t part, is imputed the contri|uing, and effecting of them, if they be thought able. To <HI>Liuia</HI> apper|taineth the &s;u&s;picion of their death, becau&s;e it was good for her that they &s;hould dye when they did, and &s;hee was al&s;o generally &s;u&s;|pected in that kinde of euill.</P>
<P>[Dru&s;o <HI>pridem extincto,</HI> Nero <HI>&s;o|lus &egrave; priuignis erat.</HI> Dru&s;us <HI>being be|fore dead,</HI> Nero <HI>was onely left of his &s;onnes in Law.]</HI> This was the fruit reaped by the death of <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> his Grand-&s;onnes; for hereby her &s;onne <HI>Nero</HI> remained the onely man that was likely to &s;ucceed in
<PB N="290" REF="152" MS="y"> the Empire. For his brother <HI>Dru|&s;us</HI> dyed of a fall from his hor&s;e two yeares before. So that now hee had no competitor neither of his owne kindred, nor of the hou&s;e of <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> to oppo&s;e him, &s;aue onely <HI>Agrippa Po&s;t|humus,</HI> who for cau&s;es hereafter to be mentioned, was not of much re&s;pect.</P>
<P><HI>[Illuc cuncta vergere,</HI> filius, Col|lega Imperij, Con&s;ors Tribunitiae&punc; <HI>pote&s;tatis ad&s;umitur, omne&s;&abque; per ex|ercitus o&s;tentari, non ob&s;curis vt an|tea matris artibus, &s;ed palam hortatu. All enclined that way, hee is made his</HI> &s;onne, his Collegue in the Empire, his companion in the Tribunitiall <HI>power, &s;hewne to all the Armies, not by the &s;ecret artifice of his Mother, as be|fore, but by open per&s;wa&s;ion.]</HI> Euery man that followed <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> in his
<PB N="291" REF="152"> &s;trength, now in the declining of his age turne their eyes vpon the next change: for tho&s;e who had fortunes vnder <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> de&s;ired the con&s;eruation of them at the hand of the next; &amp; tho&s;e that had none, began now to hope for e&s;tates and honors, vnder his Succe&s;&s;or. All men being of this conditi|on, that de&s;ire and hope of good more affecteth them then fruition: for this induceth &s;atiety; but hope is a whet&s;tone to mens de&s;ires, and will not &s;uffer them to langui&s;h. It was wi&s;dome in <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> to make manife&s;t one certaine &s;uc|ce&s;&s;or, thereby not to giue occa|&s;ion to the ambition of many. But that <HI>Tiberius</HI> &s;hould bee the man rather then his owne Grand|&s;onne, that was certainly the wi&s;|dome of his Wife: for not ma|ny
<PB N="292" REF="153"> men would depriue their owne off-&s;pring of &s;o faire an in|heritance, without greater cau&s;e then is expre&s;&s;ed, to conferre it on the i&s;&s;ue of another. If <HI>Li|uia</HI> had loued her owne no bet|ter, the hou&s;e of <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> might haue continued much longer then it did. The honour <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> gaue to her &s;onne, was to adopt him for his; which was to giue him &s;ole power for the future, after the death of <HI>Augu&s;tus,</HI> and make him Colleague of the Empire, and partaker of the authority of <HI>Tri|bune,</HI> which was authority equall to his owne for the pre&s;ent; and then, to cau&s;e the armies to yeeld him their re&s;pect, and acknow|ledge him for their next Lord. The&s;e fauours <HI>Liuia</HI> had beene long &s;olliciting for, by in&s;inuation,
<PB N="293" REF="153"> detraction, deceit, and what&s;oeuer Art el&s;e is requi&s;ite to the &s;upplant|ing of a Riuall in a Princes affectio~. But now the way was &s;o cleere, by rea&s;on of the Emperours age fit to be wrought on, and the rudene&s;&s;e of <HI>Agrippa,</HI> that &s;hee dur&s;t open|ly moue <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> to di&s;-inherit his owne i&s;&s;ue, and preferre hers. But the fauour that <HI>Liuia</HI> &s;hewed to <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> children, be&s;ides the &s;u&s;pition of cau&s;ing the death of two of them, was cleane con|trary.</P>
<P><HI>[Nam &s;enem</HI> Augu&s;tum <HI>adeo de|uinxerat, vti nepotem vnicum</HI> A|grippam Po&s;thumum <HI>in In&s;ulam</HI> Plana&s;iam <HI>proijceret. For &s;he had &s;o tyed vnto her</HI> Augu&s;tus, <HI>who was now an old man, that hee confined his onely Grand-&s;onne</HI> Agrippa Po&s;thu|mus <HI>into the Iland</HI> Plana&s;ia.] I haue
<PB N="294" REF="154"> not found &s;o great a defect in <HI>Au|gu&s;t&abus;</HI> his iudgeme~t, in al his former actions, as in this, &s;o farre to follow her will, as to bani&s;h and confine his owne bloud, for the aduance|ment of hers. But, as <HI>Tacitus</HI> &s;aith, hee was now growne old, and &s;o the weakene&s;&s;e that accompani|eth old age may excu&s;e that fault, which in his younger, and more mature iudgement, peraduenture hee would neuer haue committed. It was hard for him, being now in yeeres, to want the comfort of his Wife; to liue with her, and not to haue her plea&s;ed, intolerable, and a|gain&s;t the dignity of an Emperour; and to extingui&s;h her ambition, im|po&s;&s;ible. So that if he had &s;eene her drifts, vnle&s;&s;e they had broken out into &s;ome violent actions, hee mu&s;t in a manner haue beene for|ced
<PB N="295" REF="154"> to di&s;&s;emble it. For it is contra|ry to the dignitie of a Prince, to take notice of that fault which he is not able to amend. But hee &s;aw them not: for what cannot the craft of &s;ome wiues, through opportunitie, continuall flatterie, and arguments framed with all the Art that can be v&s;ed, worke vpon the weake iudge|ment of an old man? The place of <HI>Agrippa's</HI> exile, being a &s;mall, and vninhabited Iland, where hee was rather impri&s;oned, then bani&s;hed, was in a manner, a &s;ure argument, that hee &s;hould not long out-liue his Grandfather: for as the feare of <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> kept him now aliue, &s;o the feare of his owne Title, would make <HI>Tiberius</HI> neuer let him e&s;cape out of his fingers.</P>
<P><HI>[Rudem &s;ane bonarum artium, &amp; robore corporis &s;tolid&egrave; ferocem, nul|lius</HI>
<PB N="296" REF="155"> <HI>tamen flagitij Compertu~. Ignorant (to &s;ay the truth) of good Arts, and bearing him&s;elfe fooli&s;hly fierce of his &s;trength of body, but not detected of any crime.]</HI> The&s;e are the cau&s;es, for which <HI>Agrippa</HI> was put by the right of his &s;ucce&s;&s;ion, and wanted the re&s;pect which was otherwi&s;e due vnto his birth. Hee had not good education. That vvas the &s;umme of all his faults. And in a State which might freely elect their Prince, the &s;ame had beene a iu&s;t cau&s;e to pa&s;&s;e by him. For it is a great misfortune to a people, to come vnder the gouernment of &s;uch a one, as knowes not how to gouerne him&s;elfe. For where it is &s;aid, hee was vnfurni&s;hed of good Arts, it is not ment of letters, though that al&s;o be good in a Prince, and of ornaments the chiefe; for hee
<PB N="297" REF="155"> may want the&s;e, rather then iudge|ment, valour, or goodne&s;&s;e of na|ture. But the Art that hee is princi|pally taxed to want, &s;eemeth to haue beene the Art of conforming to times, &amp; places, and per&s;ons, and con&s;i&s;teth much in a temperate conuer&s;ation, and ability vpon iu&s;t cau&s;e, to containe and di&s;&s;emble his pa&s;&s;ions, and purpo&s;es; and this was then thought the chiefe <HI>Art of gouernment.</HI> And whereas he is &s;aid to be vndetected of any crime, that made not much for the matter in hand; for though he might proue no <HI>ill man,</HI> hee might bee neuerthe|le&s;&s;e an <HI>ill gouernour.</HI> But <HI>Agrippa's</HI> defects were not the &s;ole cau&s;e of his di&s;-inheriting, though they were the &s;ole iu&s;tification of it, when it was done. The hope of &s;ucce&s;&s;ion, notwith&s;tanding the
<PB N="298" REF="156"> care of the Emperour, being redu|ced by the Art of <HI>Liuia,</HI> to one on|ly man, <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> againe takes or|der for the bringing in of one more.</P>
<P><HI>[At hercule</HI> Germanicum Dru|&s;o <HI>ortu~, octo apud</HI> Rhenu~ <HI>legionibus impo&s;uit, ad&s;ciri&abque; per adoptionem &agrave;</HI> Tiberio <HI>iu&s;sit, quamquam e&s;&s;et in do|mo</HI> Tiberij <HI>Filius iuuenis; &s;ed quo pluribus munimentis in&s;i&s;teret. But yet hee made</HI> Germanicus <HI>the &s;onne of</HI> Dru&s;us, <HI>Commander of eight Legi|ons vpon the</HI> Rhine, <HI>and commanded</HI> Tiberius <HI>to adopt him, although</HI> Ti|berius <HI>had a young &s;onne of his own: but this he did, to haue the more &s;up|ports.] Augu&s;tus</HI> is &s;till of this iudge|ment, that the &s;ucce&s;&s;ion ought not to depend on the life of one man, and therefore wil haue more props to e&s;tabli&s;h it. But as the aduancing
<PB N="299" REF="156"> of <HI>Tiberius,</HI> was thought to bee the ruine of <HI>Caius,</HI> and <HI>Lucius:</HI> &s;o now the making of <HI>Tiberius</HI> to adopt <HI>Germanicus,</HI> might haue proued the ruine of <HI>Tiberius,</HI> if the Ambition of <HI>Germanicus</HI> had beene an&s;wera|ble to his power. For <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> put eight Legions into his hand, the which afterwards would not only haue beene ready to haue giuen him the Empire, but al&s;o went a|bout to put it vpon him by force. Therefore if a Prince rai&s;e many to the hope of reigning, he ought to prouide again&s;t the emulation, am|bition, and mutuall iealou&s;ies that ordinarily ari&s;e thereof. For el&s;e he &s;hall hardly bring any of them to the fruition, or if one, then all the re&s;t to vntimely ends. <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> here gaue <HI>Liuia</HI> indeed no occa&s;i|on to worke again&s;t this la&s;t choi&s;e
<PB N="300" REF="157"> of his, being one of her owne Grand-children; but yet to com|mand <HI>Tiberius,</HI> who had a &s;onne of his owne, to adopt another, mu&s;t needs breed a hart-burning in him, becau&s;e he knew by him&s;elfe, how much rather men de&s;ire to po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e, then expect &s;uch authoritie. And fearing therefore; that <HI>Germanicus</HI> might beare the &s;ame minde, he af|terwards, as is thought, tooke a cour&s;e to bring him to his end, wherby may be perceiued in what danger an hone&s;t man &s;tandeth, being neere vnto one that is am|bitious, either before or behinde him, who&s;e nature is to de&s;troy be|fore him, out of hope; and behinde him, out of feare.</P>
<P>After that <HI>Augustus</HI> had ma&s;te|red, quieted, &amp; taken order for the &s;ucce&s;&s;ion of the Empire: the Au|thor
<PB N="301" REF="157"> &s;heweth next the &s;tate of the pre&s;ent times. <MILESTONE N="6"> And fir&s;t for matter of warres abroad. <HI>[Bellum ea tem|pe&s;tate nullu~, ni&s;i aduer&s;us</HI> Germanos <HI>&s;upererat: abolendae magis infamiae ob ami&s;&s;um cum</HI> Quinctilio Varo <HI>exer|citum, quam cupiditate proferendi</HI> Imperij, <HI>aut dignum ob praemium. There remained at that time no warre, &s;auing again&s;t the</HI> Germans, <HI>and that rather to wipe off the di&s;grace for the lo&s;&s;e of the Army with</HI> Quintilius Varus, <HI>then out of any de&s;ire to enlarge the</HI> Empire, <HI>or hope of worthy recom|pence.]</HI> Warres are nece&s;&s;ary onely where they are iu&s;t, and iu&s;t onely in ca&s;e of defence Fir&s;t, of our liues, &s;econdly, of our right, and la&s;tly, of our honour. As for enlargement of Empire, or hope of gaine, they haue beene held iu&s;t cau&s;es of warre by &s;uch onely, as preferre the <HI>Law of</HI>
<PB N="302" REF="158"> <HI>State</HI> before <HI>the Law of God.</HI> But this warre again&s;t the <HI>Germans,</HI> was to defend the reputation of the <HI>Romane Empire,</HI> and was nece&s;&s;ary, not for the curio&s;itie alone, and nicene&s;&s;e, that great Per&s;onages haue alwayes had, in point of ho|nour, much more great States, and mo&s;t of all that of <HI>Rome,</HI> but al&s;o for the reall and &s;ub&s;tantiall dam|mage (for &s;ome man might ac|count the other but a &s;hadow) that might en&s;ue vpon the neglecting of &s;uch &s;haddowes. For oftentimes Kingdomes are better &s;trengthned and defended by military reputati|on, then they are by the power of their Armies. For there is no man that doth an iniury to another, and &s;capeth with it, but will attribute his impunity to want of power in his aduer&s;ary, (for there be few that
<PB N="303" REF="158"> want wil to reuenge di&s;graces) and thereby be the more emboldned to doe him another, and &s;o another, as long as they may patiently bee endured; whereas, when they deale with one who&s;e &s;word is out at e|uery contempt, they will bee very wary not to doe him wrong. And be&s;ides this, <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> might finde commoditie in this warre, by em|ploying therein the great &amp; actiue &s;pirits, which el&s;e might haue made them&s;elues worke at home, to the preiudice of his authoritie.</P>
<P><HI>[Domires tranquillae. Eadem Ma|gi&s;tratuum vocabula. Iuniores po&s;t</HI> Actiacam <HI>victoriam, etiam &s;enes in|ter bella ciuium nati. Quotu&s;qui&s;&abque; qui Rempublicam vidi&s;&s;et? In the Citie all was in quietne&s;&s;e, the &s;ame names of Magi&s;trates. The yonger &s;ort were all born after the victory at</HI> Actium,
<PB N="304" REF="159"> <HI>and euen the old men in the time of the ciuill warre. How few were left that had &s;eene the Commonwealth?]</HI> After the violent &s;tormes of ciuil warres, &s;ucceedeth now the calme of <HI>Au|gu&s;tus</HI> his gouernment. For it fareth with the body of a whole State, as it doth with the body of one man, that when a Feuer hath &s;pent the matter, and bilious humour, wher|by it &s;elfe was nouri&s;hed, the body commeth afterwards to a mode|rate temper. What&s;oeuer might haue cau&s;ed a de&s;ire of returning to their former libertie, and bred a grudging of the old di&s;ea&s;e, was now remoued. Few remained that had &s;eene the ancient Republique. And there is neuer in men &s;o &s;trong a de&s;ire of things they haue not &s;eene, as of tho&s;e things which they haue. And a mans nature is to &s;tirre
<PB N="305" REF="159"> more for the recouery of a good, which they once enioyed, then for the acqui&s;ition of what they are ig|norant of. As for the longing which might ari&s;e in them, through relati|on, and report, they had therein al|&s;o &s;ome &s;atisfaction. For where|as they might haue heard of the names of Con&s;uls, Tribunes, Cen|&s;ors, and the like, the &s;ame they found al&s;o in the pre&s;ent State; though the authoritie of them all, remained onely in <HI>Augu&s;tus.</HI></P>
<P><HI>[Igitur ver&s;o ciuitatis &s;tatu, nihil v&s;quam pri&s;ci &amp; integri moris: omnes exuta aequalitate, iu&s;&s;a Principis a&s;pec|tare. So that the State of the Citie be|ing changed, nothing remained of the old, and vncorrupted cu&s;tomes, euery one (equality laid of) attended the commandement of the Prince.] In vi|ta hominum perinde accidit, vt &s;i lu|das</HI>
<PB N="306" REF="160"> <HI>te&s;seris, &amp;c. Terent.</HI> It falleth out in a mans life, as in a game at Ta|bles, wherin when one cannot ca&s;t that which is the be&s;t, hee mu&s;t mend the matter as well as he can, by good play. The change being now fully &s;ettled, and the ancient cu&s;tomes no more hoped for, they finde, that &s;triuing for equality, is not the be&s;t of their game, but o|bedience, and waiting on the com|mand of him that had power to rai&s;e, or keepe them low at his plea|&s;ure. For though other vertues, e&s;pe|cially deepe wi&s;edome, great, and extraordinary valour, be excellent ones vnder any &s;ort of gouern|ment, and chiefly in a <HI>free State,</HI> (where therefore they thriue be&s;t, becau&s;e they are commonly ac|companied with ambition, and re|warded with honour) yet in the
<PB N="307" REF="160"> &s;ubiect of a <HI>Monarch,</HI> obedience is the greate&s;t vertue, and tho&s;e be|fore mentioned as they &s;hall &s;erue more, or le&s;&s;e vnto that, &s;o to bee had more or le&s;&s;e in e&s;timation. Therefore they now &s;tudie no more the Art of commanding, which had beene heretofore nece&s;|&s;arie for any <HI>Romane</HI> Gentleman, when the rule of the whole might come to all of them in their turnes; but apply them&s;elues wholly to the Arts of &s;eruice, vvhereof <HI>ob|&s;equiou&s;ne&s;&s;e</HI> is the chiefe, and is &s;o long to bee accounted lau|dable, as it may bee di&s;tingui&s;hed from Flatterie, and profitable, whi|le&s;t it turne not into tediou&s;ne&s;&s;e</P>
<P><HI>[Nulla in prae&s;ens formidine, dum</HI> Augu&s;tus <HI>aetate validus, &s;eque, &amp; domum, &amp; pacem &s;u&s;tentauit. There being at that time no feare of trou|bles</HI>
<PB N="308" REF="161"> <HI>as long as</HI> Augu&s;tus <HI>vnde|cayed by age, &s;u&s;tained both him&s;elfe, and his hou&s;e, and the Publique peace.]</HI> Although that the princi|pall &s;trength required, to the ma|naging of an Empire, be that of the minde, yet ability of the body is al|&s;o of &s;uch nece&s;&s;itie, that without it a Prince runneth the danger of &s;uf|fering many di&s;orders that hee would el&s;e remedy. The cau&s;e here|of is obuious to euery man, name|ly, that when for weakne&s;&s;e of age, or want of health, hee cannot be pre&s;ent at the con&s;ultations of tho&s;e he v&s;eth in matters of e&s;tate, hee mu&s;t bee forced to relye on the relations of diuers, and &s;o bee &s;ubiect to di&s;traction, or el&s;e whol|ly tru&s;t vnto &s;ome one, &amp; become lyable to abu&s;e. And in the meane time euery great man, hoping to
<PB N="309" REF="161"> make his priuate benefit out of the publike remi&s;&s;nes, &s;euerally oppre&s;|&s;eth the co~mon people, &amp; withall, keep off their complaints from the Princes care; and thereby draw on the danger of &s;edition &amp; rebellion.</P>
<P><HI>[Po&s;tquam prouecta iam &s;enectus, aegro &amp; corpore fatigabatur, aderat&abque; finis &amp; &s;pes nouae: pauci bona liber|tatis inca&s;&s;um di&s;&s;erere, plures bellum paue&s;cere, alij cupere, pars multo max|ima imminentes dominos varijs rumo|ribus differebant. But now that hee was growne very aged, and wearied with his &s;ickly body, and that his end and new hopes were neere at hand: &s;ome few there were that di&s;cour&s;ed in vaine of the commodities of liberty, more feared warre, &s;ome de&s;ired it, but the greate&s;t number by farre, with diuer&s;ity of rumors did de&s;cant on tho&s;e that were to bee their next</HI>
<PB N="310" REF="162"> <HI>Lords.]</HI> When a Prince draweth neere to his end the peoples minds are all &s;et vpon new hopes, and di&s;cour&s;e of nothing that is pre&s;ent, but onely of what is in expectancy. The rea&s;on hereof is this, the hopes of Subiects being much built vpon the life of their Prince: whe~ he dyes, they are of nece&s;&s;ity to begin a|gaine, and lay their foundation a|new in the next. <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> there|fore being ready to leaue his room to another, there could not choo&s;e but bee much di&s;cour&s;e of the pro|bability of the &s;ucceeder. One of the&s;e three was of nece&s;&s;ity to come in place: Liberty, Ciuill warre, or a new Monarch. If ano|ther Monarch then either <HI>Agrippa,</HI> or <HI>Tiberius.</HI> For Liberty they had no hope at all, but yet that was al&s;o talked of: for men haue generally
<PB N="311" REF="162"> this infirmity, that when they would fall into con&s;ideration of their hopes; they mi&s;take, and en|ter into a fruitle&s;&s;e di&s;cour&s;e of their wi&s;hes; &s;uch impre&s;&s;ion doe plea|&s;ing things make in mans imagi|nation. As for warre, it was both feared, and de&s;ired by many, ac|cording as their fortunes required it; for without doubt, tho&s;e who&s;e e&s;tates were whole, would bee a|fraid, though &s;uch as had not a for|tune able to &s;u&s;taine their inordi|nate expence, thereby to &s;eaze the wealth of other men, would much wi&s;h for it. La&s;tly, touching a Mo|narch, as it was mo&s;t credible to come to pa&s;&s;e; &s;o which of the two it &s;hould be, was now become the co~mon talke of the greate&s;t part of men, who cen&s;uring their per&s;ons, gathered arguments thence of their
<PB N="312" REF="163"> &s;ucce&s;&s;ion, and of the wel-fare of the e&s;tate vnder them; and v&s;ed li|berty in their &s;peech of them, more boldly (though neuerthele&s;&s;e pri|uately) then in the times that came next after, they could &s;afely haue done. Thus farre the &s;tate of tho&s;e times, wherein <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> was come to the la&s;t Scene, and ready to quit the Stage of this great Em|pire. And now <HI>Tacitus</HI> comes to the opinion conceiued of tho&s;e that were next to enter.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="7"> <HI>[Trucem</HI> Agrippam, <HI>at&abque; ignomi|nia accen&s;um, non aetate, ne&abque; rerum experientia tantae moli parem. That</HI> Agrippa <HI>was cruell, and kindled with his di&s;grace, and neither of age, nor experience &s;ufficient for &s;o great a burthen.]</HI> By the weight of the&s;e cen&s;ures, I &s;hould hardly thinke they proceeded from the common
<PB N="313" REF="163"> people, but rather that they &s;prung out of the Authors owne medita|tion, or el&s;e that he means by <HI>[pars multo maxima]</HI> the greate&s;t part of the Nobility, and men of know|ledge in great affaires. Age and experience are nece&s;&s;ary for the go|uernment of a great Empire; there|fore the want of the&s;e in <HI>Agrippa,</HI> was of much importance again&s;t him; &s;o al&s;o was the fiercene&s;&s;e of his di&s;po&s;ition, the ab&s;ence of which fault is more de&s;ired by &s;ub|iects in their Prince, then of any o|ther vice what&s;oeuer, that concer|neth onely morality. But that o|ther note giuen to <HI>Agrippa,</HI> that hee was <HI>ignominia accen&s;us,</HI> is a farre greater exception again&s;t him then all the re&s;t. The great men had mo&s;t of them no doubt approued his bani&s;hment, and he liued there|by
<PB N="314" REF="164"> in contempt of them all; &s;o that he could not choo&s;e but hold him|&s;elfe generally iniuried, though his ignominie proceeded but from a few: and opinion of contempt is a frequent cau&s;e of cruelty and ty|ranny. If now therefore they had cho&s;en him for their Prince, they had then giuen him full power to make his reuenge according to his owne cruell inclination, and done contrary to the cu&s;tome of hu|mane nature; for men more wil|lingly tru&s;t him with their liues and fortunes, that hath done them iniury, then one that hath beene or holds him&s;elfe iniuried by them: for from the&s;e they can expect no|thing but reuenge, from the other they may hope for amends. But this is not alwayes the be&s;t cour&s;e, con&s;idering on the other &s;ide ano|ther
<PB N="315" REF="164"> generall di&s;po&s;ition of man|kinde, which is apter to remit to &s;uch as are vnder their power an in|iury receiued, then to make &s;ati&s;|facton to them for one committed; becau&s;e for the fir&s;t they &s;hall haue thanks, and the &s;econd is held but for a debt.</P>
<P>After the cen&s;ure of <HI>Agrippa,</HI> fal|leth in that of <HI>Tiberius.</HI> [Tiberium Neronem <HI>maturum annis, &s;pectatum bello, &s;ed vetere at&abque; in&s;ita</HI> Claudiae <HI>familiae &s;uperbia, multa&abque; inditia &s;aeui|tiae, quanquam premantur erumpere. That</HI> Tiberi&abus; Nero <HI>was of ripe years, and of reputation in the warres, but he had in him the old &amp; hereditary pride of the</HI> Claudia~ <HI>family, &amp; many &s;ignes of cruelty brake forth in him, though he &s;troue to &s;mother them]</HI> Ability to gouerne is not all that is to be wi&s;ht for in a Gouernour; <HI>Tiberius</HI> was
<PB N="316" REF="165"> heere thought too able, that is, like|ly to hold the reynes of gouern|me~t too hard, e&s;pecially ouer a peo|ple &s;o lately weaned from liberty: for &s;uch are euer more &s;en&s;ible of e|uery re&s;traint and pre&s;&s;ure of Mo|narchicall rule, then others are that haue beene &s;o accu&s;tomed. There are not two more tyrannicall qua|lities in the world then <HI>pride</HI> and <HI>cruelty;</HI> whereof the former impo|&s;eth intolerable commands, &amp; the later exacteth immoderate puni&s;h|ments. They argued <HI>Tiberius</HI> his pride both from his ance&s;tors and education, and of cruelty him&s;elfe made demon&s;tration. Men deriue their vertues and vices from their ance&s;tors two wayes; either by na|ture or imitation. By the former are deriued all that depend on the tem|per of the body; the re&s;t are by imi|tation,
<PB N="317" REF="165"> and do &s;eldome faile. For the reuerence that naturally men doe beare to the qualities of their ance&s;|tors, begetteth a liuely imitation of the~, in their po&s;terity. And &s;o pride may pa&s;&s;e thorow a Stock by imi|tation, not that men would imitate that, but by error vnder the name of <HI>Magnanimity.</HI> Then for his cru|elty, by how much the more he en|deuoured to hide it, and could not, by &s;o much the more it was feared and abhorred in him. For a pa&s;&s;ion that can be ma&s;tered, is nothing &s;o dangerous as one that ca~not; e&s;peci|ally in <HI>Tiberi&abus;,</HI> that knew be&s;t of all men how to di&s;&s;emble his vices. Tho&s;e things that <HI>Tiberius</HI> would di&s;&s;emble, were euil, and tho&s;e euils he could not di&s;&s;emble, were great ones; therefore for &s;uch cruelty as him&s;elfe was not able to couer, hee
<PB N="318" REF="166"> was iu&s;tly to be feared. And yet it is no ea&s;ie thing to di&s;&s;emble ones vi|ces, I mean, if the di&s;&s;imulatio~ mu&s;t be of long co~tinuance; for, for once a man may ouercome the mo&s;t vi|olent pa&s;&s;ion that euer was: but <HI>dif|ficile fictam ferre per&s;onam diu.</HI> <NOTE PLACE="marg">Seneca Trag.</NOTE></P>
<P><HI>[Hunc &amp; prima ab infantia eductu~ in domo regnatrice; conge&s;tos iuueni con&s;ulatus, triumphos. That the &s;ame man was brought vp from his infan|cy in the hou&s;e of Soueraignty; that be had</HI> Co~&s;ul&s;hips, <HI>&amp;</HI> triumphs <HI>heaped on him while he was yet but a youth.]</HI> This is another argument of the haughtines of <HI>Tiberius,</HI> drawn from his education Honors &s;omtimes be of great power, to change a mans manners and behauiour into the wor&s;e, becau&s;e men co~monly mea|&s;ure their own vertues, rather by the acceptance that their per&s;ons find in
<PB N="319" REF="166" MS="y"> the world, them by the iudgement w^c^h their own co~&s;cience maketh of the~, &amp; neuer do, or think they neuer need to examine, tho&s;e things in the~&s;elues, w^c^h hath once found ap|probation abroad, and for w^c^h they haue receiued honor. Al&s;o honor many times co~firmeth in men that intention wherwith they did tho&s;e things w^c^h gained honor; w^c^h inten|tio~ is as often vicious as vertuous. For there is almo&s;t no ciuil action, but may proceed as well fro~ euill as fro~ good; they are the circu~&s;tances of it (w^c^h be onely in the mind, and co~&s;equently not &s;een &amp; honoured) that make vertue. Out of all the&s;e things, I &s;uppo&s;e, may be gathered, that honor nouri&s;heth in light and vain men a wrong opinion of their own worth, &amp; con&s;equently, often changeth their manners into the
<PB N="320" REF="167"> wor&s;e, but e&s;pecially that it encrea|&s;eth their pride &amp; in&s;olence. As for his educatio~ in a hou&s;e of &s;ouerain|ty, that might put into the heads of the&s;e cen&s;uring &s;ubiects thus much: (for certainly they liked neuer a iot the better of <HI>Tiberi&abus;</HI> for hauing bin brought vp in &s;o high a Schoole of &s;oueraignty as the hou&s;e of <HI>Augu|&s;tus)</HI> Fir&s;t, that what &s;eeds &s;oeuer of haughtines and pride were in him hereditary, and w^c^h he po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed by vertue of his bloud, were now al&s;o through long cu&s;tome &s;prung vp, &amp; wanted but the &s;ea&s;on of reign|ing to bring forth their vnplea&s;ant fruit. Secondly, that hauing by ex|perience, vnder &s;o learned a ma&s;ter in the Art of gouernment beene taught how to hold them vnder as much as him&s;elfe &s;hould plea&s;e, they could not looke for any re|mi&s;&s;ene&s;&s;e
<PB N="321" REF="167"> to proceede from want of knowledge how to keepe them low, and con&s;equently were &s;ure to find his gouernment euery way vnea&s;ie.</P>
<P><HI>[Neijs quide~ annis quib&abus;</HI> Rhodi <HI>&s;pe|cie &s;ece&s;&s;&abus; exulem egerit, aliquid quam iram, &amp; &s;imulationem, &amp; &s;ecretas libi|dines meditatum. Neither tho&s;e yeeres that he liued vnder colour of retireme~t in exile at</HI> Rhodes, <HI>did he meditate a|nything but wrath, di&s;simulation, &amp; &s;e|cret lu&s;t.]</HI> It is reported of <HI>Tiberius,</HI> that at the fir&s;t hee trauelled volun|tarily to <HI>Rhodes,</HI> but being there, he was co~manded to &s;tay. How&s;oeuer it was, he obtained the fairename of retirement, to couer the ignominy of bani&s;hment. A man would per|haps thinke, that aduer&s;ity &s;hould rather quench, or at lea&s;t a&s;&s;wage tho&s;e pa&s;&s;ions, which haue their life
<PB N="322" REF="168"> e&s;pecially from great pro&s;perity, as wrath, &amp; di&s;&s;imulation, &amp; lu&s;t. And &s;o it doth, when the aduer&s;itie is &s;o great, that the hope is lo&s;t of redu|cing their meditations into act. But otherwi&s;e it worketh a cleane con|trary effect. For wheras anger com|monly dyeth, where reuenge is de&s;|paired of; di&s;&s;embling is laid a&s;ide, where the labor of it is vain; &amp; ima|ginations of lu&s;t dimini&s;h, where they can neuer be acco~pli&s;hed; whe~ aduer&s;ity is but &s;uch as they expect to ouercom, it often falleth out, that the hope w^c^h nouri&s;heth &s;uch ima|ginations is enflamed thereby, and men plea&s;e their vicious fancies for the pre&s;ent, with the co~ceit of what they wil execute with effect hereaf|ter, when they &s;hal haue the power. This was the ca&s;e of <HI>Tiberius,</HI> and a cau&s;e of feare, &amp; ce~&s;ure in tho&s;e that
<PB N="323" REF="168"> were to liue in &s;ubiectio~ vnder him. <HI>[Accedere matrem muliebri impoten|ti&acirc;: &s;eruiendu~ foeminae, &amp; duob&abus; in&s;u|per adole&s;centib&abus;, qui Remp. interim premant, quando&abque; di&s;trahant. That be&s;ides this, there was his mother offe|minine impotence: that they were to &s;erue a woman &amp; two yong men, that would for the pre&s;ent oppre&s;&s;e the Com|monwealth, &amp; might hereafter rend it.]</HI> Next to the per&s;on of <HI>Tiberius,</HI> they con&s;idered in him tho&s;e of his Fa|mily, that would al&s;o looke for &s;er|uice, and obedience at their hands, namely, his Mother &amp; two &s;onnes: <HI>Germanicus</HI> by adoption, and his owne naturall &s;onne, and thought them no &s;mall grieuance to the Commonwealth. For it is a hard matter to &s;erue and plea&s;e well one Ma&s;ter: but to plea&s;e two, or more, when there is, or may be, betwixt
<PB N="324" REF="169"> them competition, or iealou&s;ie (lea|uing out that one of them, is a wo|man) is altogether impo&s;&s;ible. The cau&s;e hereof is not, becau&s;e the di|ligence and dexterity of a man can|not &s;uffice for the quantity of &s;er|uice, but becau&s;e the quality of it will not permit: for the &s;eruice that the one will expect from you, is mo&s;t times this, That you di&s;plea&s;e the other. And this proceeds from the emulatio~ of tho&s;e that are in the way to autority, that ofte~ labor not &s;o much to outrunne each other in the cour&s;e, as they do to trip vp one anothers heeles. And the &s;ame emu|lation, when they once draw neere the races end, makes them &s;natch at the prize, and fall to violence, and warre, and to di&s;tract, and draw the Co~monwealth into facti|on and &s;edition.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="half title">
<PB REF="169">
<P>A DISCOVRSE OF ROME.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="discourse">
<PB REF="170">
<PB N="325" REF="170">
<HEAD>A DISCOVRSE OF ROME.</HEAD>
<P>_IN the &s;ight of any place there bee two e&s;pecial Obiects, <HI>An|tiquitie,</HI> and <HI>Great|ne&s;&s;e;</HI> both which none can &s;ooner challenge then <HI>Rome:</HI> in the very beginning no|ted for <HI>Soueraignty.</HI> The continu|ance of which, in &s;uch diuer&s;ity of gouernments, as <HI>Kings, Con&s;uls, Tribunes, Dictators, Emperors,</HI> can|not but &s;hew a diuine power; for
<PB N="326" REF="171"> otherwi&s;e &s;o many changes might in all likelihood haue bred confu|&s;ion, and &s;o con&s;equently &s;uppre&s;|&s;ed their ri&s;ing to &s;o great an <HI>Em|pire:</HI> which as the la&s;t, &s;o it may be truely &s;tiled the greate&s;t that yet the world euer knew, or heard of; obtained onely by the valour of this one Citie, no Commander, and for a long time no Souldier, that came not out from thence. So that it may bee &s;aid, the people of this one place, made them&s;elues ma&s;ters of the re&s;t. Wherevpon they might haue iu&s;t cau&s;e to e|&s;teeme <HI>Orbem in vrbe,</HI> the world confined in their Citie.</P>
<P>In the height of who&s;e Imperi|ality, which was in <HI>Augu&s;tus</HI> raigne, <HI>Chri&s;t</HI> came into the world. This as then the chiefe Commandre&s;&s;e of the whole, was the place where
<PB N="327" REF="171"> holine&s;&s;e, and religion, aymed to haue their principall plantation; where, during the time of the infi|delity of the Emperours, till <HI>Con|&s;tantine</HI> the great, who was the fir&s;t that maintained the faith, it is infi|nite to comprehend the tyranni|zing ouer Chri&s;tians, the mar|tyrdomes they endured, &s;o ma|ny, that it is hard to name any who &s;ealed not his faith with his bloud.</P>
<P>But now <HI>Constantine</HI> was con|uerted, to &s;ee the ill effects &s;o good a cau&s;e produced, cannot but breed admiration. For the Ambition of the <HI>Bi&s;hops</HI> of <HI>Rome</HI> made this their fir&s;t &s;tep to greatne&s;&s;e, and &s;ubuer|&s;ion of the <HI>Empire.</HI> How grounded vpon this <HI>donation,</HI> I cannot ima|gine, nor I thinke they yet well de|fend: but this was the true Origi|nall,
<PB N="328" REF="172" MS="y"> by which in &s;ucce&s;&s;ion of time the <HI>Empire</HI> was tran&s;lated. The zeale of this, and &s;ome &s;ucceeding Emperours, was &s;o well taken hold of by the Prelates of <HI>Rome,</HI> that by degrees they a&s;&s;umed more authority to them&s;elues then was due; the other in a manner before they were aware, lo&s;ing all at <HI>Rome</HI> but the title. From which preten|ded power, the Popes now take to them&s;elues &s;upremacie in all cau&s;es, through all Kingdomes in the world, and tho&s;e which were before, their &s;uperiours, to bee as it were &s;ubiect, and created by them that were their creatures. Which &s;hewes a great contrariety to the pretended arguments of <HI>Romani&s;ts,</HI> for &s;uperiority, and rather may bee returned vpon them, that this their greatne&s;&s;e hath more ri&s;en by en|croachment,
<PB N="329" REF="172"> then right. Why there|fore Princes haue beene &s;o blinded with their pretences for greatne&s;&s;e, I cannot tell wherevnto to attri|bute it, except to the fate of this place, that hath euer beene, or aymed to bee the Mi&s;tris of the world. Fir&s;t, by their <HI>wi&s;edome</HI> and <HI>power,</HI> and then vnder co|lour of <HI>Religion</HI> and Saint <HI>Peters Keyes.</HI></P>
<P>And now to the de&s;cription of <HI>Rome,</HI> as I &s;aw it. In which I will neither goe beyond mine owne knowledge, and fly to the reports of others, nor yet &s;o &s;trictly tye my &s;elfe to a bare de&s;cription, but that I may vpon the occa&s;ions of tho&s;e particulars I &s;aw, &s;et downe my ob&s;eruations, and the conceits I then had; which con&s;i&s;t, fir&s;t, in the &s;ituation. Secondly, the <HI>Eth|nicke</HI>
<PB N="330" REF="173"> Antiquities. Thirdly, the Chri&s;tian Monuments. Fourthly, the moderne Buildings, Gardens, Fountaines, &amp;c. Fiftly, the Col|ledges, Churches, and Religious Hou&s;es. Sixtly, the pre&s;ent &s;trength of the City and Pope, with the de|&s;cription of his and the Cardinalls Magnificence. And la&s;tly, the &s;afe|ty and danger for an Engli&s;h man to trauell to <HI>Rome.</HI></P>
<P><MILESTONE N="1"> If you ob&s;erue the <HI>&s;ituation,</HI> it &s;tands in a place that could neither afford plea&s;ure nor profit to the dwellers, other then that which is forced. Though not &s;o &s;eated, as it may bee &s;aid to &s;tand in the <HI>Ap|penine,</HI> yet among&s;t tho&s;e Moun|taines. All the Country about is &s;o barren, except &s;ome little, neere the City, which is by labour brought to fertility, that the wilde&s;t Forre&s;t
<PB N="331" REF="173"> of England may be e&s;teemed good ground, in re&s;pect of this. In &s;ome places heereabout, I &s;aw where corne had beene gathered, but by the &s;tubble might perceiue had beene &s;o thinne, that a man would thinke one &s;talke had beene afraid of another. The wayes thereabout both comming downe the <HI>Appe|nine</HI> to <HI>Rome,</HI> and from thence to|ward <HI>Naples,</HI> &s;o vnpa&s;&s;able for a Coach, that a man may think him|&s;elfe well ble&s;t, if hee breake not his necke from hor&s;ebacke.</P>
<P>The &s;ight of this &s;o mi&s;erable a Country, wonderfully di&s;tracted my thoughts, to thinke how the inhabitants of &s;o wilde a place could euer come to &s;uch a great|ne&s;&s;e. And from thence proceeded the&s;e cogitations. Fir&s;t, that ea&s;e and delicacie of life is the bane of
<PB N="332" REF="174"> noble actions, and wi&s;e coun|&s;els. A man that is delighted, and who&s;e affections bee taken with the place wherein hee liues, is mo&s;t commonly vnapt, or vn|willing to bee drawne to any change, and &s;o con&s;equently vn|fit for any enterpri&s;e, that may ei|ther aduance his owne honour, or the good of his Country. Any actions that reach farther then their owne priuate contents, in their e&s;timation bee needle&s;&s;e and vnprofitable Labours. And it hath many times happened, that whil&s;t men liue in this Lethar|gie, that Countries, Cities, their owne fortunes and all, haue beene lo&s;t through their negli|gence.</P>
<P>Againe, a life of plea&s;ure doth &s;o be&s;ot and benumme the
<PB N="333" REF="174"> &s;ences, and &s;o farre effeminate the &s;pirits of men, that though they bee naturally prone to an actiue life, yet cu&s;tome hath brought them to &s;uch a ha|bit, that they apprehend not a|ny thing farther then the com|pa&s;&s;e of their owne affections; thinke nothing beyond their pre|&s;ent enioyments. A &s;trange <HI>Epi|curean</HI> opinion, that men, who were borne to haue dominion o|uer all creatures; &s;hould be now &s;ubiect to them, and vnder their rule. A meere inuer&s;ion of the prime ordinance.</P>
<P>From this con&s;ideration I decli|ned to the contrary, that a place of hardne&s;&s;e, and a life exerci&s;ed in ac|tions of valour and not idlene&s;&s;e, hath euer produced the braue&s;t men, &amp; arriued at the greate&s;t for|tune.
<PB N="334" REF="175"> Let but the <HI>Romane</HI> Story be a mirrour to you in this kind, you &s;hall hardly, I thinke, finde in the fir&s;t times any enterprize of great worth, that the cau&s;e of it might not be drawne from this head. For their fir&s;t pouerty, being men brought to this place by fortune, and rather by forced, then de&s;ired election, not knowing where el&s;e to &s;ettle, in de&s;pight of want, their ambitions put them forward; fir&s;t, to encroach vpon their neigh|bours, and then, as their fortunes were enlarged, to goe on in acti|ons of greater con&s;equence and more difficulty. Being a race of &s;uch men, as could not con|fine and limit them&s;elues to one place, but &s;ucce&s;&s;iuely from fa|ther to &s;onne, you &s;hall &s;carce reade of any, that was not ei|ther
<PB N="335" REF="175"> a man of action or directi|on, though &s;ome peraduenture naturally vnapt for the one, yet exqui&s;ite in the other: and abilitie to giue coun&s;ell, is at lea&s;t, not infe|riour to the former.</P>
<P>To prepare a man fit for both, nothing &s;o much preuailes, as a hard and weary life, &s;uch an agita|tion as will not permit idlene&s;&s;e, nor the minde to &s;ettle too much vpon priuate ends, which being &s;o, could neuer be aptly applyed for Publique. Be&s;ides, a continuall working of the mind, which in an actiue &s;pirit, will &s;till grow and la|bour in production of good ef|fects, if it &s;hould be &s;uffered to re&s;t, would &s;oone degenerate. For if a man giue ouer him&s;elfe to an ea&s;efull life, the &s;harpne&s;&s;e of his &s;ences will be dulled, and grow re|tyred,
<PB N="336" REF="176"> applying him&s;elfe to his owne contents, and then, can neuer haue &s;ufficiency, nor will to pre|uaile for the publique, once being confined to his own particular in|tere&s;t, and looking no further. Ma|ny men are naturally giuen to &s;uch a life, and &s;ome by accident fall in|to it, but certainly their memory dyes with them: for no man is borne onely for him&s;elfe. This is &s;o well knowne, that I will not &s;eeke farther to illu&s;trate it.</P>
<P>A third con&s;ideration that came into my minde, at the &s;ight of the place, was to wonder at a &s;ort of men (but either ignorant, or mali|cious) who from the &s;pirit of de|traction thinke to calumniate, the valours, and vertues of men, in di&s;|gracing their Country for barren|ne&s;&s;e, for pouerty, or the like. The&s;e
<PB N="337" REF="176"> men, if they had euer &s;eene this place, and known the &s;tory, would neuer haue imagined this a good argument. Cannot vertue and po|uertie be together? cannot an vn|fruitfull Country yeeld men full of worthine&s;&s;e, and Valour? a &s;trange marke of an enuious di&s;po|&s;ition, to taxe the mens vertues, for the vnplea&s;antne&s;&s;e of the &s;oyle; as if vertue and plenty could not bee &s;euered, or that of nece&s;&s;ity a hard Country mu&s;t produce &s;oft and ignoble &s;pirits: but if they would truely looke into them&s;elues, they could not choo&s;e but &s;ee a won|derfull imperfection, and igno|rance, who iudge vertue by means, and men by places. If Noble and worthy Spirits had con&s;i&s;ted in the&s;e outward re&s;pects, the men of this place would haue beene won|derfull
<PB N="338" REF="177"> ignominious; but you may plainely &s;ee, by the example of them, that a poore and hard life, a de&s;olate, and almo&s;t vninhabitable place, brought forth &s;uch men, and they performed &s;uch actions, as in this age (we are mo&s;t of vs &s;o much degenerate) we can hardly heare of without incredulitie. So I wil leaue the place it &s;elfe, and &s;peake of the Country about it.</P>
<P>Not farre di&s;tant from the Citie, is the <HI>Mediterranean</HI> Sea, and the principall Port now is <HI>Ciuita vec|chia,</HI> where &s;ince the Church hath had dominion, the Nauy is very &s;mall, and chiefely con&s;i&s;ts of Gal|lies. But certainly, this was a great helpe, in the time of the ancient <HI>Ro|manes,</HI> as well to encrea&s;e their do|minion, as to fortifie them&s;elues a|gain&s;t forraine inua&s;ions: for by
<PB N="339" REF="177"> this meanes men were more ea&s;i|ly, and with le&s;&s;e charge tran&s;por|ted to tho&s;e parts of <HI>Africa,</HI> and <HI>Greece,</HI> where they made great conque&s;ts, which otherwi&s;e could neuer haue been compa&s;&s;ed, and they them&s;elues much &s;trengthe|ned again&s;t all enemies that could come from tho&s;e parts, &s;eeing it a matter of great difficultie to &s;ur|prize, or take any place, that hath &s;o good a defence as the Sea. And to a people who bee &s;trong, and of great power, it is not difficult to de|fend them&s;elues from the enter|prize of any a&s;&s;aylers; and experi|ence hath euer &s;hewn, it is harder to conquer <HI>Ilands</HI> &amp; places well fen|ced with the Sea, the~ the <HI>Continent.</HI></P>
<P>Thus much for this, and now I will confine my &s;elfe within the walles, which bee the ancient ones,
<PB N="340" REF="178"> adorned in former times with ma|ny towers, but now the mo&s;t de|cayed, and not very many left. The Riuer <HI>Tyber</HI> runnes thorow the towne, and within this compa&s;&s;e are tho&s;e &s;euen Hilles &s;o famou&s;ly knowne, all of one &s;ide the Riuer, vpon which old <HI>Rome</HI> was built. And &s;till there bee &s;ome Palaces on them; but the Citie, as it is now, is more built in tho&s;e &s;paces, as <HI>Campus Martius,</HI> &amp;c. which be|fore were left vacant.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="2"> But I will now take a view of the ancient Antiquities; and fir&s;t, of the famous Capitoll vpon one of the &s;euen Hils, called <HI>Mons Capitolinus,</HI> whereof almo&s;t nothing remaines but the memory. The place where the <HI>Senate</HI> &s;ate, is now plaine, and couered with earth, onely &s;ome &s;teps you may &s;ee where they went
<PB N="341" REF="178"> down, &amp; it is &s;aid to haue been fra|med in the form of a Cock-pit. The hou&s;es now about the <HI>Capitol</HI> are a&s;&s;igned for the place of Iu&s;tice. Three &s;euerall a&s;cents there be by &s;taires vnto it; and I haue heard tho&s;e <HI>Romanes,</HI> who are de&s;cended from the Ancient, doe (though at any price) de&s;ire to haue their dwel|ling hereabouts. The principall of them bee of the <HI>Scipioni,</HI> and the <HI>Camilli.</HI> From this place <HI>Nero</HI> made a Gallery to his Palace vpon <HI>Mons Palatinus,</HI> whereof there is now nothing remaining, but &s;ome few Pillars which bore it vp, very great ones, and of Marble. This place is adorned with many choi&s;e Statues, both in the open place, and buildings about it. In the ope~ place you &s;hall &s;ee a Statue, lying vpon a Marble &s;tone in a fountaine, called
<PB N="342" REF="179"> <HI>Marforius, (Pa&s;quins</HI> Intelligen|cer.) There is al&s;o the Statue of <HI>Marcus Aurelius</HI> in bra&s;&s;e, and vp|on hor&s;ebacke, not anciently here, but remoued hither from a more ob&s;cure place, by <HI>Paul&abus; III. P. M.</HI> Be&s;ides, there is the Statue of a wo|man <HI>Comedian,</HI> repre&s;ented as if &s;he were &s;peaking, and two Audi|tors li&s;tning vnto her, &s;o liuely ex|pre&s;&s;ed, that a man not in&s;tructed, may ea&s;ily know they were made for this repre&s;entation. In the buil|dings there be al&s;o many principall Statues, as one of a <HI>Scolding Woman,</HI> &s;o well done, as it would almo&s;t feare one to looke on it. A <HI>Hercu|les</HI> in Bra&s;&s;e. <HI>Iulius</HI> and <HI>Augu&s;tus Cae&s;ar</HI> in Marble. <HI>Romulus</HI> and <HI>Rhe|mus</HI> &s;ucking a Wolfe, in Bra&s;&s;e. <HI>Quintus Curtius</HI> on hor&s;ebacke, in Bra&s;&s;e, and <HI>Iupiter</HI> in Marble. Of
<PB N="343" REF="179"> <HI>Romulus</HI> and <HI>Rhemus</HI> &s;ucking a Wolfe there be many in <HI>Rome,</HI> and not defaced, being euer left by them that &s;acked it, to put the peo|ple in minde of their ba&s;e begin|ning. But it &s;eemes, in this re&s;pect, they neuer thought the wor&s;e of them&s;elues, &s;eeing they haue in &s;o many publike places made repre|&s;entation of this. There is be&s;ides, the Statue of <HI>Nero's</HI> Mother, wher|in her countenance of &s;orrow is expre&s;&s;ed, when the newes of her &s;onnes vnnaturalnes meant to her was told. There is another in bra&s;&s;e, of a Boy, taking a thorne out of his foot, looking &s;o earne&s;tly, &amp; pitifully, that a man would thinke he had &s;ome &s;en&s;e of paine. There be in this place many other Anti|quities of this kinde, which to a|uoid prolixity, I omit to name.</P>
<PB N="344" REF="180">
<P> De&s;cending from the <HI>Capitol,</HI> there be three or foure <HI>Triumphant Arches</HI> dedicated to the honour of Emperours, as to <HI>Augu&s;tus Cae&s;ar</HI> and <HI>Con&s;tantine,</HI> where be engra|uen their principall Acts, &amp; victo|ries: but the mo&s;t remarkeable of the&s;e, is <HI>Ve&s;pa&s;ians</HI> erected vpon his returne from <HI>Ieru&s;alem,</HI> where you &s;hall &s;ee the ouercomming of the Citie, liuely &s;et forth, and the holy things which hee brought away from thence in triumph, as the <HI>Candle&s;ticks</HI> and the re&s;t &s;ingularly expre&s;&s;ed. Here is al&s;o the great <HI>Amphitheater,</HI> but now extreme|ly ruinate, where the mo&s;t pub|lique &s;hewes and &s;ports were v&s;u|ally &s;hewne. Vpon <HI>Mons Pala|tinus,</HI> where <HI>Nero's</HI> magnificent hou&s;e was built, there is nothing to be &s;eene but decayes, and now
<PB N="345" REF="180"> employed to a Vineyard, which is be&s;towed vpon the <HI>Engli&s;h Col|ledge.</HI> At the foot of the farther part of this hill is the place, where, vpon great Fea&s;ts, the <HI>Nauall Battailes</HI> were wont to be pre&s;ented. Not far from thence is the <HI>Pantheon</HI> or <HI>Rotonda,</HI> in <HI>Campo Martio,</HI> a place built round and high: at the en|trance are many Marble pillars of great thickne&s;&s;e, and height, hauing one onely light in the top like a Louuer. This anciently was a Tem|ple dedicated to <HI>all the Gods,</HI> and now conuerted to the honour of <HI>all Saints.</HI> The two Pillars that be erected as Triumphs to <HI>Traian</HI> and <HI>Antoninus,</HI> are of a great height, and exqui&s;itely engrauen vpon the &s;ides, with their acts and vic|tories. Vpon the toppe of <HI>Tra|ians,</HI> his a&s;hes are &s;aid to bee in a
<PB N="346" REF="181" MS="y"> ball of gold. In the hou&s;e of <HI>Al|fon&s;o Suderetti,</HI> is the place where <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> made his Tombe, whereof now almo&s;t nothing remaineth but the ruines: this he purpo&s;ed not onely for him&s;elfe, but his Family; it is a great compa&s;&s;e, built round, and &s;ome old pieces of the Tombe yet remaine. In many places of this Citie, there are to bee &s;eene the ruines of the ancient Emperours Baths; among&s;t which, the mo&s;t principall are tho&s;e of <HI>Diocle&s;ian,</HI> of a wonderfull great compa&s;&s;e. Vpon this, it is &s;aid, that for twelue yeres together, multitudes of Chri|&s;tians were condemned to conti|nuall working. Some part of it now is conuerted to a Church and Mona&s;terie. Without <HI>Porta Pincia|na,</HI> there is the Temple of <HI>Bacchus,</HI> which &s;tands vpon Marble pillars,
<PB N="347" REF="181"> and it is a faire <HI>Rotonda.</HI> Here his Sepulcher is &s;et about with pillars, and the tombe it &s;elfe is of Por|phyry curiou&s;ly grauen. This tem|ple, is now diuided into two parts, and dedicated to two Saints, Saint <HI>Agnes</HI> and Saint <HI>Con&s;tanza,</HI> who&s;e bodies haue beene there lately found, and that of Saint <HI>Agnes</HI> is &s;aid to be vncorrupt. This Temple was of late all couered with earth, and but newly di&s;couered. By <HI>Por|ta O&s;tia</HI> there is a Tombe of one <HI>Ce&s;tius</HI> an <HI>Aedile,</HI> which was an an|cient office among&s;t the Romanes, principally to looke to burialls. This is built in manner of a <HI>Pyra|mis,</HI> all of great and broad Mar|ble, halfe in the wall and halfe out. In many places there be <HI>Pyramides</HI> &s;et vp, which are &s;aid long &s;ince to be brought out of <HI>Aegypt:</HI> of the&s;e
<PB N="348" REF="182"> you &s;hall &s;ee at <HI>Santa Maria Mag|giore, Saint Peters,</HI> and other places. There is moreouer no hou&s;e of a|ny worth, that is not repleni&s;hed with infinite numbers of ancient Statues; &s;o that a man might think, in re&s;pect of the number, that in ancient time the inhabitants were employed about nothing el&s;e. Courts, Galleries, euery roome is adorned with them, and in many roomes heaped one vpon another, there bee &s;o many. And yet, for all this multitude, it is a &s;trange thing to &s;ee at what ine&s;timable prices they hold euery one of them; nay, it is almo&s;t an im|po&s;&s;ibility, by any meanes, or for any money to get one of them away, they hold them in &s;o great e&s;timation. Neuerthele&s;&s;e, euery day among&s;t their Vineyards, and
<PB N="349" REF="182"> in the ruines of old <HI>Rome,</HI> they finde more, which, in who&s;e ground &s;oeuer they be found, at a certaine price, doe now belong to the <HI>Popes,</HI> who di&s;tribute them in their own Palaces, to their fa|uorites or kin&s;men, and &s;omtimes as pre&s;ents to Princes. And this is the cau&s;e that the hou&s;cs of &s;uch as haue beene Nephewes or fauorites of the <HI>Popes;</HI> bee be&s;t furni&s;hed with the&s;e orna|ments.</P>
<P>If a man &s;hould make an exact relation of the <HI>Anticaglie</HI> in this kinde, he mu&s;t haue &s;euen yeares time to view, and two mens liues to write them. But for a ta&s;t and &s;o away. At the <HI>Popes</HI> Palace, at Saint <HI>Peters,</HI> the Statues of <HI>Commodus</HI> and <HI>Antoninus,</HI> the Statue of <HI>Laocoon,</HI> which is written of by <HI>Virgil</HI> in the
<PB N="350" REF="183"> &s;econd booke of his <HI>Aeneads;</HI> and they &s;ay that his very &s;eeing of that Statue, was the cau&s;e of tho&s;e ver|&s;es: the Statue of <HI>Apollo:</HI> and in the midde&s;t of this place the thigh of a man done in Marble, which the be&s;t workmen haue iudged ad|mirable in the true proportions; and they &s;ay that <HI>Michael Angelo</HI> &s;tood two dayes by it in contem|plation, and the artifice was &s;o ex|cellent, and beyond his apprehen&s;i|on, that he had like to haue gone mad with the con&s;ideration of it. In this place there bee many more Antiquities, the great Pine Apple of bra&s;&s;e, wherein were found <HI>A|drians a&s;hes.</HI> At the <HI>Popes</HI> other Palace vpon <HI>Mons Quirinalis,</HI> be|fore the Gate, there be two other Statues done in full proportion, of <HI>Alexander,</HI> taming <HI>Bucephalus,</HI>
<PB N="351" REF="183"> made by tho&s;e two famous men <HI>Phydias</HI> and <HI>Praxiteles,</HI> one in e|mulation of the other. And from the&s;e two Statues being &s;et heere, this place is called <HI>Monte Caualli.</HI> In the Garden of <HI>Cardinall Borghe&s;e</HI> without <HI>Porta Pinciana,</HI> there is a Tombe which is &s;aid to be <HI>Alexan|ders.</HI> In the Palace of <HI>Cardinall Ferne&s;e,</HI> among&s;t an infinite num|ber of other Antiquities, there be the Statues of the twelue fir&s;t Em|perours, two Tables of the <HI>Greci|ans</HI> Lawes, which the <HI>Romanes</HI> brought from thence, one of the gods which is &s;aid to haue giuen an&s;wers in the <HI>Pantheon,</HI> a Statue of the two &s;onnes of a King of <HI>Thebes,</HI> after the death of their fa|ther, tying his Concubine to a Bull, in reuenge of tho&s;e wrongs &s;hee had done their mother, (this
<PB N="352" REF="184"> Story is &s;aid to bee related by <HI>Pro|pertius</HI> and <HI>Pliny)</HI> brought to this City by the ancient <HI>Romans</HI> out of <HI>Rhodes,</HI> found in the time of <HI>Pau|lus,</HI> III. of the <HI>Ferne&s;ian</HI> family, and by him left as a relique to this hou&s;e. Heere are be&s;ides the an|cient Statues of the <HI>Horatij</HI> and <HI>Curiatij,</HI> &amp; &s;uch another of <HI>Neroes</HI> Mother as I haue mentioned to be in the <HI>Capitoll,</HI> but better expre&s;&s;ed. In one of the Palaces of <HI>Cardinall Borghe&s;e,</HI> which in former times hath beene the <HI>Kings</HI> of <HI>England,</HI> and giuen by <HI>Henry</HI> the 8. to <HI>Car|dinall Campeio,</HI> at his being heere; now enriched by the be&s;t hands of Painters, and the mo&s;t ancient Sta|tues: you &s;hall &s;ee among&s;t the re&s;t a <HI>Gladiatore</HI> (or Fencer) admira|bly de&s;cribed in Marble, and a Sta|tue of <HI>Seneca</HI> in bra&s;&s;e, bleeding in
<PB N="353" REF="184"> his bath to death, with whom this part al&s;o of the <HI>Romane</HI> Antiquities &s;hall dye.</P>
<P>Now from the&s;e ancient ruines of <HI>Temples, Trophies, Statues, Ar|ches, Columnes Pyramides,</HI> &amp; the re&s;t, there would be required in a curi|ous pen a particular ob&s;eruatio~, but I will only pre&s;cribe vnto my &s;elfe &s;ome generall notes. How venera|ble Antiquities both bee and haue been in all mens e&s;teem, is &s;o gene|rally known and receiued, as I will not enter into a Laudatory there|of, further then to &s;hew the &s;in|gular v&s;e and profit that may bee gathered from the knowledge of them.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, they much illu&s;trate Story, and in &s;ome ca&s;es illuminate the vnder&s;tanding of the Reader, and &s;erue as a confirmation of that he
<PB N="354" REF="185"> hath read. When actions of note bee regi&s;tred, the bare after-rea|ding of them, without &s;eeing the place whence they proceeded, is by many men not &s;o con&s;tantly retained in memory. For euery man knowes, that if in reading an Hi&s;tory (onely by a Mappe) the place bee ob&s;erued as well as the action, ones iudgement is better &s;trengthened, and con&s;equently much more when a man &s;ees that which others haue but by de&s;crip|tion. They that haue read of <HI>Antoninus, Traian,</HI> and <HI>Ve&s;pa&s;ian,</HI> and finde their acts which they haue read, engrauen in <HI>Arches, Pil|lers,</HI> and the like, it is hard to ex|pre&s;&s;e what credit they giue to the Hi&s;tory, and &s;atisfaction to the Reader. And if in this re&s;pect, a|ny place in the world de&s;erue &s;ee|ing,
<PB N="355" REF="185"> none can &s;ooner claime it then <HI>Rome.</HI></P>
<P>Secondly, the ancient Statues of the <HI>Romanes,</HI> do &s;trangely immor|talize their fame; and it is certaine that the men of tho&s;e times were infinitely ambitious, to haue their memories in this kind, recorded; &amp; &s;uch was the benignity of that peo|ple, that they willingly yeelded to honour their acts, by publique ex|pre&s;&s;ion, and in a kind, to Deifie the per&s;ons of their worthie&s;t men, w^c^h indu&s;try of theirs may bee ga|thered by the numbers of Statues of <HI>Cicero, Seneca, Brutus, Ca&s;sius,</HI> the <HI>Horatij,</HI> and <HI>Curiatij, Cato,</HI> and ma|ny more, who&s;e vertue, more then their greatne&s;&s;e, made them fa|mous. Otherwi&s;e if I had onely &s;een the Statues of the mo&s;t power|full men, and ancient Emperours, I
<PB N="356" REF="186"> &s;hould haue thought there had been in tho&s;e times as great Time-&s;eruers, as there be now, where power &amp; authority is more e&s;tee|med of, then vertue, or valour. Yet I think, if euer men of any place, in any time de&s;ired to haue their names and actions to continue to Po&s;terity, not knowing any farther immortalitie, the&s;e were they, and this one con&s;ideration produced better effects of vertue and valour, then Religion, and all other re&s;|pects doe in our dayes. Certainly, therefore, if they had been as well in&s;tructed in Diuine, as Morall precepts, no man of any age had euer exceeded them.</P>
<P>Thirdly, the multitude and ri|ches of the&s;e Statues, and other An|tiquities, do wonderfully argue the magnificence of tho&s;e times, wher|in
<PB N="357" REF="186"> they haue exceeded all that went before, or followed after them; and yet this &s;umptuou&s;ne&s;&s;e nothing diuerted their minds from a generous and actiue life, but ra|ther in&s;tigated them; which now we mo&s;t commonly finde contrary. For greatne&s;&s;e and good|ne&s;&s;e doe not alwayes agree toge|ther.</P>
<P>Fourthly, the Architecture of many ancient Temples, and Sta|tues, is &s;o &s;ingular and rare, that they that euer &s;ince haue beene e|&s;teemed the be&s;t, dur&s;t neuer a&s;|&s;ume, or vndertake, to equalize them in that kinde of &s;ingularitie, e&s;pecially of the Statues, which are &s;o done, that neuer any could come neere the originall for exqui&s;ite|ne&s;&s;e in taking the Copie: &s;o that a man cannot but gather, that in this
<PB N="358" REF="187"> place, and tho&s;e times, there were conioyned all &s;ingularities toge|ther, be&s;t workmen, be&s;t wits, be&s;t Souldiers, and &s;o in euery kinde Superlatiue.</P>
<P>But it may be there are &s;ome, who will drawe ill conclu&s;ions from the&s;e Antiquities, either tend|ing to <HI>Athei&s;me,</HI> or <HI>Super&s;tition.</HI> For <HI>Athei&s;me</HI> thus. If men de&s;ire to im|mortalize their memories in this kind after their death, it may &s;eeme the onely happine&s;&s;e (being dead) they can expect, is by this meanes to continue their fame for tho&s;e acts which liuing they performed, and haue thought of no other im|mortalitie then this &s;ort of conti|nuing their memory: and this may &s;eeme to be the end of &s;uch as in the&s;e moderne times make Monu|ments, or haue left order for &s;ome
<PB N="359" REF="187"> to be erected after their death in their memory.</P>
<P>To this I will not deny, but that the&s;e peraduenture might bee the farthe&s;t ends the <HI>Romanes</HI> aymed at. But among&s;t vs the erection of them is free from the corruption. For fir&s;t, where the end is out of a religious care to con&s;titute &s;ome place for our bodies to remaine in, till the day of the general account, I cannot &s;ee what more blame can bee a&s;cribed to any, for adorning the&s;e, then their habitations whi|le&s;t they liue. And be&s;ides, in re|&s;pect that the&s;e bee v&s;ually &s;et in publique places, which is an orna|ment to them, they are therefore the more allowable. Again, in re&s;|pect of the benefit and v&s;e to &s;uch as liue, they be not vnnece&s;&s;arie; for if they be of &s;uch, who&s;e ver|tues
<PB N="360" REF="188"> haue de&s;erued perpetuity in our memory, they breed a kinde of emulation to imitate; if otherwi&s;e, their liues haue de&s;erued co~tempt, it is an expre&s;&s;ion of Gods iu&s;tice, who hath &s;uffered &s;uch men, who haue liued &s;candalou&s;ly all their liues, &s;o farre to bee blinded, that they perpetuate their &s;hame to po|&s;teritie, and by &s;uch mens Monu|ments, tho&s;e who haue heard of their vices, &s;eeke to auoid them.</P>
<P>Againe, there be others, who to &s;et a glo&s;&s;e vpon their <HI>Athei&s;ticall</HI> o|pinions, argue thus. If the Romans of that time, who were euer repu|ted men of mo&s;t acute iudgement, and reuerenced for their grauity, &amp; vnder&s;tanding, thought their chie|fe&s;t happine&s;&s;e after death to con|&s;i&s;t in tho&s;e outward re&s;pects, why &s;hould it bee thought in this de|clining
<PB N="361" REF="188"> age of the world, where men for learning, and height of wit, come &s;hort of tho&s;e which preceded, that we &s;hould find new wayes of immortalitie, which the elder world neuer dreamt of, and charge tho&s;e who haue euer beene &s;o much e&s;teemed for their wi&s;e|dom, with &s;o gro&s;&s;e an ignorance? To this it may be an&s;wered: Fir&s;t, that the&s;e <HI>Romanes</HI> had &s;ome &s;ence of the immortality of the &s;oule, but in what maner, &amp; way, being only guided by naturall rea&s;on &amp; lear|ning, they were vtterly ignorant. <HI>For there is none but the foole that hath &s;aid in his heart, that there is no God.</HI> Again, it is not all the learning or wit of man, can find out the my|&s;tery of true religion, without Gods ble&s;&s;ing, &amp; holy Spirit to a&s;&s;i&s;t the~. But to &s;uch as the&s;e, who are onely
<PB N="362" REF="189"> learned in naturall &s;ciences, and had no in&s;piration from aboue: how can they but (as the <HI>Apo&s;tle</HI> &s;aith) count <HI>the manife&s;tation of Re|ligion fooli&s;hne&s;&s;e?</HI> So that this argu|ment mu&s;t bee no derogation to the truth of Religion, for that lear|ned men heretofore vnder&s;tood it not.</P>
<P>For the other errour that may be drawne from the&s;e <HI>Antiquities,</HI> enclining to <HI>Super&s;tition,</HI> which may be defined to be <HI>a Religion ex|erci&s;ed in fal&s;e wor&s;hip.</HI> In tho&s;e times, the&s;e durable Monuments tended that way: for either men were &s;o ambitious to expect <HI>Deifi|cation,</HI> or people &s;o fooli&s;h to giue it them, a&s;cribing miraculous o|peration to their dead Images. Which errour needs no confu|tation: for all men &s;ee the Ar|rogance
<PB N="363" REF="189"> of them that de&s;ired, and &s;implicity of &s;uch as gaue be|leefe to the&s;e vaine imaginations. And yet I cannot but admire at the &s;trange blindne&s;&s;e of &s;uch, who in this cleere Sun-&s;hine of Chri&s;tianity, haue &s;uch a mi&s;t be|fore their eyes (imaginary not reall) that they will &s;till turne the image of the <HI>incorruptible God,</HI> in|to the likene&s;&s;e of a corruptible man, which in any naturall vn|der&s;tanding, &s;eemes fooli&s;h, in a re|ligious, profane. I dare walke no farther in this Labyrinth, for feare of growing too infinite, only this, it is the wonder of the world, that men &s;hould bee &s;o farre carried a|way with this Ideoti&s;me, which is both again&s;t <HI>Rea&s;on</HI> and <HI>Religion.</HI></P>
<P><MILESTONE N="3"> Now in the next place after pro|fane, the religious Antiquities of
<PB N="364" REF="190"> this place de&s;erues co~&s;ideration, in which, I profe&s;&s;e a greater breuity, then in that which is pa&s;t. Of the &s;euen Churches, to which men goe vpon extraordinary deuotion, the fir&s;t is <HI>Saint Peters,</HI> now in re|edifying, of a great length, with an an&s;werable breadth. You a&s;cend vnto it by many &s;tayres, where, at the fir&s;t view, is pre&s;ented the mo&s;t goodly <HI>Facciata,</HI> or forefront of the world, &s;upported with ma|ny great pillars of Marble. This Church is very high, and vpon the toppe of the <HI>Coppola,</HI> or circumfe|rence, is a <HI>Ball</HI> of bra&s;&s;e, which to them below &s;eems no bigger then an ordinary Bowle, yet is of that capacity, that it will receiue at lea&s;t forty per&s;ons. The in&s;ide of this <HI>Rotonda</HI> within the Church, is mo&s;t curiou&s;ly painted with the
<PB N="365" REF="190"> acts of Chri&s;t and his Apo&s;tles. The fini&s;hing of the high <HI>Altar</HI> is vndertaken by the <HI>King of Spaine.</HI> The lower part of this round is a|dorned with <HI>Mo&s;aique</HI> worke, and the <HI>Altar</HI> compa&s;&s;ed about with tho&s;e pillars of <HI>Marble</HI> which are &s;aid to haue been in <HI>Salomons Tem|ple,</HI> they being curiou&s;ly carued &amp; fa&s;hioned in the forme of <HI>wreaths.</HI> On the left hand in a <HI>Chappel</HI> where the Chanons &s;ing their Office, is the Statue of our <HI>Lady,</HI> and <HI>Chri&s;t</HI> in her armes, cut in Marble by the mo&s;t famous Pain|ter and Statui&s;t in the world, <HI>Mi|chael Angelo.</HI> Within a vault of this Church be the bodies of <HI>Saint Pe|ter</HI> and <HI>Saint Paul.</HI> Heere al&s;o bee &s;euen <HI>Chappels</HI> re&s;embling the &s;e|uen <HI>Churches</HI> which be v&s;ually vi|&s;ited. Adioyning to this Church is
<PB N="366" REF="191"> the <HI>Popes Palace</HI> of Saint <HI>Peters,</HI> and from thence a <HI>Curridore,</HI> or priuate way, to his Ca&s;tle of Saint <HI>Angelo.</HI> In this Palace the <HI>Con&s;i&s;tories</HI> v&s;ually a&s;&s;emble, and here is the <HI>Conclaue</HI> where the <HI>Popes</HI> be elected. There is al&s;o a priuate Chappell of the <HI>Popes,</HI> where the high <HI>Altar</HI> is &s;et out by <HI>Michael Angeloes</HI> curious de&s;crip|tion of the day of Iudgement. Be|&s;ides, in this Palace is the <HI>Vatican,</HI> or famous Library of the <HI>Popes,</HI> which con&s;i&s;ts onely of <HI>Manu|&s;cripts,</HI> but of great antiquitie, as well prophane, as diuine. Be&s;ides, all corre&s;pondencies, &amp; matters of State, that are and haue beene be|twixt the <HI>Pope</HI> and other <HI>Princes</HI> be here regi&s;tred. This Palace hath been &s;undry times enlarged by di|uers <HI>Popes.</HI></P>
<PB N="367" REF="191">
<P> The &s;econd of the &s;euen <HI>Chur|ches</HI> is <HI>Santa Maria Maggiore,</HI> &s;eated vpon one of the &s;euen <HI>Hils,</HI> called <HI>Mons E&s;quilinus;</HI> vpon which goes this Story, that in the time of the Primitiue Church, there was a vi|&s;ion appeared to a man and his Wife, that very night the &s;ame al&s;o appearing to the then Bi&s;hop of <HI>Rome,</HI> that pre&s;ently in that place where that good man and his Wife lay, there &s;hould bee a Church built and dedicated to our <HI>Lady:</HI> and this they &s;ay is that Church which was erected for that dreame. This Church is famous for the&s;e reliques. The bodies of Saint <HI>Mathew,</HI> and Saint <HI>Ierome,</HI> which lye here buried, The Cope of Saint <HI>Tho|mas Becket,</HI> which he wore at his death, and &s;prinkled with part
<PB N="368" REF="192"> of the bloud which hee then lo&s;t. And the picture of our <HI>Lady</HI> drawne, as they &s;ay, by Saint <HI>Luke.</HI> But that which makes this Church now &s;o remarkeable, is the two <HI>&s;plendid Chappels,</HI> the one built by <HI>Sixtus Quintus,</HI> where he lyes bu|ried, and the other ouer-again&s;t it (but more beautifull) by this <HI>Pope Paolo V.</HI> where he is to be buried. In that of <HI>Sixtus Quintus,</HI> there be carued all his Acts, during his <HI>Pa|pacy,</HI> but e&s;pecially the expedition of <HI>Ferrara,</HI> and in the other, be|&s;ides his owne actions, and Statue, the whole Chappell is mo&s;t richly and curiou&s;ly painted, the high <HI>Altar</HI> &s;tanding vpon <HI>pillars of bra&s;&s;e,</HI> inlayd with <HI>Agate,</HI> and be|&s;ides, in many places adorned with &s;tones of ine&s;timable price. To re|late particularly, the magnificence
<PB N="369" REF="192"> of both the&s;e, would aske a longer Narration then I purpo&s;e.</P>
<P>The third of the&s;e <HI>Churches</HI> is Saint <HI>Pauls,</HI> without the towne, a|bout a myle and a halfe in <HI>Via O|&s;tia:</HI> here is vnderneath, the <HI>grottes</HI> or <HI>Caues,</HI> wherein, as in others a|bout <HI>Rome,</HI> the Chri&s;tians in time of per&s;ecution were wont to con|ceale them&s;elues, and make their priuate conuentions.</P>
<P>The fourth in this way al&s;o, and without the towne, is con&s;ecrate to the memory of <HI>Saints Seba&s;tian</HI> and <HI>Fabian.</HI> In one of the Altars here made of Marble, and about a foote thicke, you &s;hall &s;ee a little hole, in compa&s;&s;e about the bigne&s;&s;e of a twenty &s;hillings piece. Of which there goes this Tale, that a Prie&s;t in the celebration of Ma&s;&s;e, and at the time of the con&s;ecration, had
<PB N="370" REF="193"> an imagination of the impo&s;&s;ibili|ty, how vpon the &s;aying of the words v&s;ed in the con&s;ecration, the hoa&s;t &s;hould be conuerted really into the body of <HI>Chri&s;t:</HI> where|vpon the hoa&s;t &s;uddenly and mi|raculou&s;ly vani&s;hed out of his hand, and made this way &s;pe|cified, proportionable to that big|ne&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>The fift without <HI>Porta E&s;quili|na,</HI> is that of <HI>Saint Lawrence,</HI> where his body is interred. This Church was built by <HI>Con&s;tantine</HI> the Great, and tho&s;e in&s;truments wherewith they were wont to &s;acrifice Chri|&s;tians, be here to be &s;eene, and more particularly, the <HI>Gridiron</HI> where|vpon it is &s;aid <HI>Saint Lawrence</HI> was broyled.</P>
<P>The &s;ixt is <HI>Santa Croce,</HI> one of the principalle&s;t Churches of de|uotion,
<PB N="371" REF="193"> built by <HI>Helena,</HI> mother to <HI>Con&s;tantine.</HI> The ground vpon which this Church is built, is of the holy earth brought by her from <HI>Ieru&s;alem.</HI> Among&s;t other Re|liques, there is a part of the <HI>Cro&s;&s;e,</HI> from whence it tooke the name, and one of the <HI>thornes</HI> of that <HI>Crowne,</HI> which was in deri&s;ion &s;et vpon our <HI>Sauiours</HI> head.</P>
<P>Now the la&s;t of the&s;e is that of <HI>Saint Iohn de Lateran,</HI> where the <HI>Lateran</HI> Councell was held. The heads of <HI>Saint Peter,</HI> and <HI>Saint Paul</HI> bee heere retained for Reliques. The pillars that &s;upport the Altar in this Church, are &s;aid to bee brought from <HI>Ieru&s;alem</HI> to <HI>Rome</HI> by <HI>Ve&s;pa&s;ian.</HI> Heere is the <HI>Font</HI> where <HI>Con&s;tantine</HI> was baptized by <HI>Pope Silue&s;ter.</HI> Be&s;ides, the pillars are thought to haue beene taken
<PB N="372" REF="194"> out of <HI>Pilates</HI> hou&s;e, and that vpon one of them &s;tood that <HI>Cocke,</HI> which by his twice crowing gaue <HI>Peter</HI> warning of his &s;inne. Heere in the <HI>Sanctum Sanctorum,</HI> (where women cannot enter) is al&s;o con|&s;erued the <HI>Arke of the old Te&s;ta|ment, Aarons Rod, The Sudatorium,</HI> which is a <HI>Napkin,</HI> with which in the way to the Cro&s;&s;e Chri&s;t wiping his face, there remained in it his pic|ture, The <HI>Table</HI> vpon which <HI>Chri&s;t</HI> celebrated his la&s;t <HI>Supper,</HI> and one little <HI>Gla&s;&s;e</HI> of his <HI>Bloud.</HI> At the en|trance of this Church bee tho&s;e <HI>Stayres,</HI> brought from <HI>Ieru&s;alem,</HI> by which <HI>Chri&s;t</HI> a&s;cended when hee entred <HI>Pylates</HI> hou&s;e, &s;ome twen|ty in number, wherevpon dayly many people goe vp, vpon their knees for deuotion, vpon euery one &s;aying a <HI>Pater no&s;ter,</HI> and an <HI>Aue</HI>
<PB N="373" REF="194"> <HI>Maria,</HI> and then ki&s;&s;ing it. Some al&s;o whip them&s;elues as they goe vp. And this Church was al&s;o built by <HI>Con&s;tantine</HI> the Great, at the in|&s;tance of <HI>Pope Sylue&s;ter.</HI></P>
<P>To goe more particularly in the narration of the holy Reliques, and Monuments of <HI>Rome,</HI> after the de|&s;cription of the &s;euen <HI>Churches,</HI> they are &s;o infinite, that I &s;hould be too prolixe. This may &s;erue as a|view to the re&s;t, onely I will re|member one &s;trange tale in the Church of <HI>San Pietro ad vincula: Saint Peter</HI> comming to <HI>Rome,</HI> was ca&s;t in Pri&s;on, and bound with a chaine, which after his death was kept as an holy Relique: &s;ometime after this, the chaine wherewith he was bound in his impri&s;onment at <HI>Ieru&s;alem,</HI> being by Chri&s;tians brought to <HI>Rome,</HI> and into the
<PB N="374" REF="195"> place where this other was kept, they, as it may &s;eeme, for ioy, being a good di&s;tance a&s;under, leaped to|gether and ioyned them&s;elues, and &s;till remaine &s;o: &s;o was this Church builded in remembrance of that miracle, and herewith I will end this part of my Di&s;cour&s;e. Now for my other ob&s;eruations, that I ga|ther from the&s;e holy Antiquities:</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, I mu&s;t profe&s;&s;e for my &s;elfe, that I am not &s;o credulous, as to tye my beliefe to the&s;e miracu|lous reports; nay, I am &s;o far from it, that I e&s;teeme mo&s;t of them ra|ther fayned then true; yet &s;uch is the Artifice of the&s;e popi&s;h traders, that they are faine to &s;ell their com|modities by this fal&s;e light, and to &s;et a glo&s;&s;e vpon their Religion, by the&s;e and &s;uch like Illu&s;ions.</P>
<P>So that heere in the next place
<PB N="375" REF="195"> wee are to con&s;ider, how ea&s;ily men are drawne by circum&s;tan|ces, to thinke they embrace certain|ties, by &s;hadowes to conclude truth, and by outward &s;hew of zeale and Religion, to imbrace im|piety. Such is the flexibility of our nature. And by way of digre&s;&s;ion there can bee nothing more ob&s;er|uable, then the variation of minds, as well as faces. Some haue &s;uch &s;tony hearts and leaden heads, that they cannot conceiue (beyond them&s;elues, and nature, as they terme it) any &s;upernaturall, or powerfull gouernment in their life and actions, nor any heauen, be|&s;ides their &s;en&s;uality. Others &s;o beleeuing, and vncertaine, that euery tale, or imagination cre|ates in their braines a new Cre|ator, and forces a fal&s;e wor&s;hip.
<PB N="376" REF="196"> Such are the&s;e which I now &s;peake of. A fal&s;e miracle preuailes far|ther then the written verity, a Mo|na&s;ticall, and &s;euere-&s;eeming habit more per&s;wades, then &s;incerity in life and manners; the repre&s;entati|on of an image &s;trikes deeper in|to their affections, then that way whereby God hath made him&s;elfe manife&s;t in the <HI>Scriptures.</HI> So that they are carried away with euery winde: &s;o great is their corruption, &s;o &s;tupid their &s;ences, &s;o mon&s;trous their ignorance.</P>
<P>By this you may &s;ee, it is no diffi|cult matter to per&s;wade the&s;e mens con&s;ciences to ones owne fancy, and to &s;erue ones owne turne. A|la&s;&s;e, an outward &s;hew of deuo|tion, and a few good words car|ries them into admiration, and to imagine that <HI>God</HI> is better plea&s;ed
<PB N="377" REF="196"> with ceremony, then truth, with forme then &s;ub&s;tance. This trade hath beene &s;o long, and this deceit &s;o cu&s;tomary, that many, though otherwi&s;e of &s;trong capacities, are blinded with the &s;ame ignorance as it were by pre&s;cription: but if they would but giue them&s;elues leaue to review the grounds, vpon which they retaine the&s;e opinions, and &s;earch to the originall from whence they &s;prung, they would quickly di&s;couer the deceit. But if men will beleeue impo&s;&s;ibilities, and for no other rea&s;on, but be|cau&s;e other men doe &s;o, and their Fathers did &s;o before them; I can thinke no otherwi&s;e of &s;uch, then as of blind men, who are to follow their leaders, and may be &s;omtimes drawn into the ditch. A man might &s;pin out a long Di&s;cour&s;e of &s;uch a
<PB N="378" REF="197" MS="y"> &s;ubiect: but thus much &s;hall &s;erue for this ob&s;eruation vpon the Re|ligious antiquities, and Reliques of <HI>Rome.</HI></P>
<P><MILESTONE N="4"> Now in order, but very briefe|ly, as before, Antiquities profane, and then Religious were con&s;ide|red; &s;o now the pre&s;ent buildings, and plea&s;ures, and next the more moderne hou&s;es of Religion be to be di&s;cour&s;ed of.</P>
<P>For the fir&s;t, I will onely for a ta&s;te, name &s;ome few places, by which you may ghe&s;&s;e the re&s;t. There be in this towne multiplici|ty of Palaces, which for Architec|ture, and curio&s;itie, may compare with any Citie of the world, of which, I will but nominate two. The fir&s;t is a hou&s;e newly built by this Pope, at the foote of <HI>Monte Quirinale,</HI> or <HI>Caualli,</HI> giuen to his
<PB N="379" REF="197"> brothers &s;onne the Prince of <HI>Sul|mo</HI> (a Principality in the Kingdome of <HI>Naples)</HI> built round, and &s;tand|ing vpon Pillars of Marble, diuided into three heights, &s;eparated by Tarra&s;&s;es, and euery one &s;tanding alike vpon Pillars. The Court, Tarra&s;&s;es, and particular Cham|bers adorned with antique Statues, many of the roomes being mo&s;t curiou&s;ly painted both vpon the top, and &s;ides, and equall roomes in all three heights, both for plea|&s;ure, and v&s;e.</P>
<P>The &s;econd is a Palace beyond <HI>Porta Pinciana,</HI> built by <HI>Cardinall Borghe&s;e,</HI> this Popes Si&s;ters &s;onne, a hou&s;e full of plea&s;ure, and &s;paci|ous, where about the middle, from roome to roome, the doores being open, you may &s;ee in a direct line, the whole length of the hou&s;e, as
<PB N="380" REF="198"> it were a pro&s;pectiue, a kinde of curio&s;itie very much followed in the be&s;t buildings of <HI>Italy.</HI></P>
<P>Now for hou&s;es of plea&s;ure, gar|dens, water-workes and the like; there is that Garden-hou&s;e (as I may terme it) of <HI>Burghe&s;es,</HI> neere <HI>Monte Quirinale,</HI> built in that place where <HI>Propertius</HI> the <HI>Poet</HI> liued. This is very plea&s;ant, not many roomes, but three or foure Gar|dens, enriched with diuers Statues, and Fountaines. Then there is that of the <HI>Beluedere</HI> by Saint <HI>Peters,</HI> which is the <HI>Popes,</HI> and another garden rare for Fruits adioyning to it. That Garden of <HI>Cardinall Bandinoes,</HI> by the <HI>Nouice&s;hip</HI> of the <HI>Ie&s;uites,</HI> towards <HI>Santa Maria Mag|glore,</HI> hath Statues &amp; Fountaines in it, &amp; is all vaulted, the better to take the fre&s;h ayre in the heat of Sum|mer.
<PB N="381" REF="198"> Then the Garden ioyning to the <HI>Popes</HI> Palace at <HI>Monte Cauallo,</HI> is very &s;plendid: but among&s;t tho&s;e, and all the other Gardens of <HI>Rome,</HI> which be mo&s;t remarkable, tho&s;e of <HI>Montalto, Maffei,</HI> and <HI>Lan|franke,</HI> be the three rare&s;t for plea|&s;ure, beauty, &s;tore of banquetting hou&s;es, Fountaines, and other deli|cacies, that can adde ornament to &s;uch places: and thus much of this diui&s;ion.</P>
<P>From hence I ob&s;erue, that as mans life ought to bee &s;u&s;tained with tho&s;e nece&s;&s;ities which mo&s;t vphold it; &s;o there may be an ad|dition of lawfull delights, and plea&s;ures, to comfort and refre&s;h it. For there is no man, or minde, &s;o retyred, but requires &s;ome delight, and plea&s;ure: otherwi&s;e the &s;harp|ne&s;&s;e of our apprehen&s;ion would
<PB N="382" REF="199"> be tyred, and the progre&s;&s;e of our life, &s;olitarie; it being an impo&s;&s;ibi|litie, and Solaeci&s;me in nature, for a man continually to trauell with|out intermixture of recreation, be|cau&s;e wee be &s;o &s;ubiect, as well in body, as in minde, to variation.</P>
<P>And in this kinde I know few recreatiues that po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e vs more, then the humour of building, in re&s;pect they both &s;atisfie our owne pre&s;ent inuention, and &s;erue to our po&s;teritie, as perpetuall remem|brances, and memorials of their progenitors, adding pre&s;ent con|tent to our &s;elues, perpetuating re|putation in the world, remaining as liuing Monuments of our mag|nificence, and beneficent expre&s;&s;i|ons of our greatne&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>And although munificency in this kinde, be by many e&s;teemed
<PB N="383" REF="199"> &s;uperfluous, I rather hold it con|uenient, &s;o it bee of our aboun|dance, and dimini&s;h nothing of the competencie of our e&s;tates. If it &s;hould doe &s;o, it were too great an argument of our folly, to propo&s;e vnnece&s;&s;ary charges. O|therwi&s;e the&s;e re&s;pects might make it allowable.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, this Art of Architecture is honourable in all mens e&s;teeme, and profitable to our &s;elues. Next, it keepes vs bu&s;ied in thought, and action, and &s;o diuerts vs from de|lights more dangerous. Then vp|on occa&s;ion it enables vs in the v&s;e of fortification. Fourthly, it giues a kinde of extraordinarie delight to our &s;elues, when wee &s;ee tho&s;e things, which before we had but formed in conceit, made vi&s;ible. Next, it is an addition
<PB N="384" REF="200"> of repute to the Citie where we liue. And la&s;tly, it makes a mans fame to &s;pread both at home, and abroad.</P>
<P>But to de&s;cend more particular|ly to the plea&s;ures of this place, the delicacie of Gardens bee of ine&s;ti|mable con&s;ideration, where a mans mind may receiue &s;uch con|tent, and his eye &s;uch diuer&s;itie of obiects, as in nothing more. If a place of delight and plea&s;ure con|tent our minds, it may here be &s;a|tisfied with the beauty of walkes, &s;weetne&s;&s;e and diuer&s;itie of Flow|ers, melody of Birds, and the like. If &s;ometimes a man be enclined to melancholy, the priuacy and &s;oli|tude of this place, the murmuring of the waters, fils vs with a &s;trange kinde of &s;atisfaction. If one would contemplate the wonders of na|ture,
<PB N="385" REF="200"> here hee may finde all things nece&s;&s;arie, and plea&s;urable; health|full, or hurtfull for man. If wee be enclined to any &s;erious &s;tudy, or meditation, here is the place where our thoughts cannot be perturbed, nor diuerted, nor our &s;ences vn|&s;harpened, becau&s;e they continu|ally meet with &s;uch variation. If you meditate, &s;it by the fountaine, or walke in the mo&s;t remote and ob&s;cure places. When you would read, or write, then is there Arbors and Banquetting-hou&s;es to repo&s;e in. And to conclude, if at any time a man would de&s;ire to giue him|&s;elfe, &amp; &s;ome few of his friends, the height of ciuill entertainment, no place can be more apt then this, e|&s;pecially in the heat of Summer, in a Country &s;o &s;ubiect to the vio|lence of it as <HI>Rome</HI> is.</P>
<PB N="386" REF="201">
<P> If a man were Poeticall, then this di&s;cour&s;e, he could not finde a better field to exerci&s;e his wit. The Hou&s;es of the&s;e places be adorned with many rarities, but e&s;pecially painting, the prai&s;e and excellency whereof is &s;ufficiently knowne; &s;o that I will forbeare the repetition: and thus I conclude this con&s;ide|ration.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="5"> In the next place, the pre&s;ent Colledges, Churches, and religi|ous Hou&s;es come in turne, in which of late yeares, tho&s;e of the Ie&s;uits be of principall reputation, where in their chiefe Church lyes buri|ed their founder <HI>Ignatius,</HI> and his Tombe is there to be &s;eene. There be be&s;ides diuers Churches appro|priate to &s;euerall nations, as that of <HI>Saint Apolinarius,</HI> to the <HI>Germans, Saint Iames,</HI> to the <HI>Spaniards, Saint</HI>
<PB N="387" REF="201"> <HI>Stanilaus,</HI> to the <HI>Polackes,</HI> a Church dedicated to the <HI>holy Trinity,</HI> built by <HI>Lewis the eleuenth King of France,</HI> to the <HI>French,</HI> and another dedicated to the <HI>holy Trinity,</HI> for the <HI>Engli&s;h.</HI></P>
<P>There is their <HI>Colledge,</HI> and in the Church be the Tombes of <HI>Cardi|nall Allen,</HI> and <HI>Par&s;ons;</HI> vpon the walles wherof be &s;et forth in pain|ting, the Martyrdomes (as they call it) of &s;uch as &s;uffered per&s;ecution, and death, for their Religion in <HI>England.</HI> And in this, now among&s;t the re&s;t are <HI>Campian,</HI> and <HI>Garnet,</HI> and the <HI>Hangman,</HI> and <HI>Tyborne,</HI> as perfectly de&s;cribed, as if they were better acquainted with the place, and per&s;on. Here is al&s;o a Li|brary con&s;i&s;ting mo&s;t of Contro|uer&s;ies. To the maintenance of this Church, and Colledge, there bee
<PB N="388" REF="202"> &s;ome lands appointed, be&s;ides o|ther pen&s;ions that they receiue from the <HI>Pope,</HI> and <HI>King of Spaine.</HI> The per&s;ons here bee all Engli&s;h, and were gouerned by a Rector of the Ie&s;uites order, called Father <HI>O|wen,</HI> lately dead. They are al Prie&s;ts, and yong Youths, &s;ent thither out of <HI>England,</HI> to bee brought vp in <HI>Philo&s;ophy,</HI> and <HI>Diuinitie,</HI> in num|ber about 120. all going in the ha|bit of Schollers, and no &s;ooner come thither, but they take vpon them fal&s;e and &s;uppo&s;ititious names, as the <HI>Rector</HI> him&s;elfe told mee.</P>
<P>This towne is full of <HI>Mona&s;te|ries,</HI> and <HI>Religious hou&s;es,</HI> many <HI>pub|lique Schooles,</HI> where <HI>Diuinitie</HI> and <HI>Philo&s;ophy</HI> are read in <HI>Lectures,</HI> and many publique <HI>Libraries.</HI> Be&s;ides, there be &s;undry <HI>Ho&s;pitals</HI> for &s;tran|gers,
<PB N="389" REF="202"> <HI>maymed, poore, &s;icke, and madde folkes.</HI> The number of the Chur|ches be about 140. And &s;o I will leaue this part.</P>
<P>Now for my ob&s;eruation, it is this, to &s;hew the Policy that they v&s;e for confirmation, and e&s;tabli&s;h|ing of their <HI>Religion,</HI> and con&s;i&s;ts, fir&s;t, in an outward &s;hew of deuo|tion, with &s;trange expre&s;&s;ions of humility, &s;et forth in the poore and au&s;tere life of many orders, in their &s;undry acts of penitence, in their dayly vi&s;itation of their Churches, in their outward actions of griefe, and repentance at the celebration of <HI>Ma&s;&s;e.</HI> Wherein is in&s;erted all po&s;&s;ible inuentions, to catch mens affections, and to raui&s;h their vn|der&s;tanding: as fir&s;t, the glori|ou&s;ne&s;&s;e of their <HI>Altars,</HI> infinit numbers of <HI>images, prie&s;tly orna|ments,</HI>
<PB N="390" REF="203"> and the diuers actions they v&s;e in that &s;eruice; be&s;ides the mo&s;t excellent and exqui&s;ite <HI>Mu|&s;ike</HI> of the world, that &s;urprizes our eares. So that what&s;oeuer can be i|magined, to expre&s;&s;e either <HI>Solem|nitie,</HI> or <HI>Deuotion,</HI> is by them v&s;ed.</P>
<P>Their next way, is in their acts of <HI>Charitie,</HI> wherein they exceed, and imagine this a great argument to make the world beleeue the truth, &amp; certainty of their <HI>Religion.</HI></P>
<P>The third is, their boa&s;ting of <HI>miracles,</HI> with which they make &s;uch a noi&s;e, and would haue them infallible arguments, to vphold their <HI>faith:</HI> but when a man &s;ees the ridiculou&s;ne&s;&s;e, and finds pro|ued the fal&s;itie of them, they are of great force to per&s;wade the con|trary. For example, if a man going down a payre of &s;tayres, by chance
<PB N="391" REF="203"> his foot &s;hould &s;lip, he would pre|&s;ently make a miracle of it, and &s;ay, that in that in&s;tant he called vpon <HI>Saint Francis,</HI> or <HI>San Carlo,</HI> or &s;ome other Saint, by who&s;e prayers hee was relieued, that otherwi&s;e he had maymed him&s;elfe, or lo&s;t his life. Or if in riding in a Coach, it by chance be ouerthrown, he pre&s;ent|ly attributes to &s;ome <HI>Saint</HI> whom he then inuoked, the liberation of him fro~ an imminent danger: and with the expre&s;&s;ions of the&s;e mira|cles, all the <HI>Churches</HI> be hung full. But for others that be more &s;tra~ge, it is certaine, &amp; hath been proued, that many of them are fal&s;e, and broached onely to delude the peo|ple, which may giue a great &s;u&s;piti|on to the re&s;t. But more, it is the <HI>Ie|&s;uites</HI> doctrine, and they labour to proue it lawfull, to forge a miracle
<PB N="392" REF="204"> for the furtherance of their Religi|on. By which Po&s;ition, if any thing happen, which may &s;eeme a won|der, as in the recouery of &s;ome de&s;|perate &s;icknes, wound, or the like, in the attribution of it to &s;ome par|ticular <HI>Saint,</HI> or extraordinary ope|ration by their meanes, they di|mini&s;h the power and glory of <HI>God.</HI> And if any &s;igne &s;hould happen to confirme it, of which they will nominate thou&s;ands, as the bleeding of a <HI>Crucifix,</HI> the &s;pea|king of an <HI>Image,</HI> &amp;c. It may as well &s;hew the now delu&s;iue pow|er of the <HI>Diuell,</HI> &s;till blinding the eyes of the world in this kinde, as hee hath formerly done by <HI>O|racles.</HI></P>
<P>Now the la&s;t policy is, in the cour&s;e of their teaching, and di&s;ci|plining, which I will onely ex|emplifie
<PB N="393" REF="204"> by the practice of our <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> there. Fir&s;t, there &s;hall no &s;candall pa&s;&s;e, that they will not be &s;ure to lay vpon our <HI>Religion.</HI> And this at the fir&s;t they beate and in&s;inuate into the eares of their Nouices. Next, they v&s;e all po&s;|&s;ible Art to magnifie their owne: in the meane time, barring the reading of any defence of our parts, and put them to &s;tudie &s;uch bookes as bee written a|gain&s;t vs; &s;o that they will con|clude a Iudgement, before both parts bee heard. But when they haue them more &s;trongly groun|ded, and they bee &s;ure that their opinion is preiudicated, they will &s;uffer them then to reade &s;ome of our bookes (but by the way, this libertie is &s;eldome giuen to <HI>Italians)</HI> and then for our &s;elues,
<PB N="394" REF="205"> that be &s;o &s;trongly in&s;tructed of one &s;ide, and &s;trangely opini|onated of the other, hee is a rare man, and receiues from <HI>God</HI> a great ble&s;&s;ing, that euer findes the true difference. And thus being wouen in their nets, they be in a manner de&s;titute of all po&s;&s;ibility of reco|uery. And &s;o much for this.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="6"> Now next in order it followes, that &s;omthing be &s;aid of the pre|&s;ent &s;trength of this place, and of what force it is again&s;t forraigne, or dome&s;tique enemies. And in my opinion it is of no great power. For examples haue &s;hewed, that it hath &s;uffered diuers &s;urprizes; &s;o that of nece&s;&s;ity it mu&s;t be of le&s;&s;e ability now to with&s;tand then before. For place of &s;trength, it hath onely the Ca&s;tle of <HI>Saint Angelo,</HI> and that al|&s;o very weake, to with&s;tand any
<PB N="395" REF="205"> &s;trong a&s;&s;ault. But the truth is, there be &s;o many Princes in league with this Sea, and <GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">yed in &s;o diuers obli|gations vnto it, that it is free from danger, without the <HI>Turke</HI> &s;hould make a warre; and then there is &s;o &s;trong oppo&s;ition like to be made by the Princes of Italy, and other forraigners, that it will be hard to preuaile again&s;t it, if the <HI>Emperour, Italy</HI> it &s;elfe, the <HI>King of France</HI> and <HI>Spaine,</HI> &s;hould not ca&s;t off their yoke and &s;ubiection: if &s;o, then it were impo&s;&s;ible for the <HI>Bi&s;hop of Rome</HI> by his owne &s;trength, to op|po&s;e, or &s;ub&s;i&s;t.</P>
<P>Now for the gouernment of this place, it is wholly &s;ubiect to the <HI>Pope,</HI> which hee holds as a tempo|rall prince, but &s;olely guided by &s;pirituall Mini&s;ters; all cau&s;es of iudgement in matters diuine are
<PB N="396" REF="206"> brought hither, as to the la&s;t Court of <HI>Appeale</HI> for finall &s;en|tences.</P>
<P>For the <HI>Popes</HI> Reuenue: that which hee receiues from his own principalities, is the lea&s;t part; the re&s;t con&s;i&s;ts in the Fayre of Indul|gences, liberation from Purgatory, conferring of Church-liuings, &s;ale of Offices, Pen&s;ions from other Princes, and the like. The trea&s;ure is neuer great, in re&s;pect of the changes of their Gouernours, who for the mo&s;t part haue employed all the Reuenue of the Church to their owne priuate families, and friends. If vpon occa&s;ion they bee forced to make any great, and &s;ud|daine &s;upply, they make bold with the trea&s;ures and ornaments of Churches, which be in <HI>Italy</HI> of ve|ry great value.</P>
<PB N="397" REF="206">
<P> Now to the per&s;on of this <HI>Pope:</HI> he is de&s;cended of no great fami|ly, an <HI>Italian</HI> borne, and exerci&s;ed the former part of his life, before his <HI>Papacie,</HI> in the office of a Iudge. He was made <HI>Cardinall</HI> by <HI>Clement the eighth,</HI> and <HI>Pope</HI> by the diffe|rence of the two great factions, in that conclaue of <HI>Montalto,</HI> and <HI>Aldobrandino;</HI> both &s;triuing to make one of their owne creatures, yet finding the other oppo&s;ition too &s;trong, were in the end forced to make a neutrall. And &s;o by this fortune it lighted vpon this man. His <HI>Court</HI> is not great (&s;ome &s;mall guard of <HI>Swizers</HI> excepted) but hee rather liues a kinde of re|tired life; the chiefe&s;t of his acti|ons tending to the aduancement of his Kindred. He is mo&s;t gouer|ned by his Nephew the <HI>Cardinall</HI>
<PB N="398" REF="207"> <HI>Borghe&s;e,</HI> but for matter of great|ne&s;&s;e in corre&s;pondency with the greate&s;t <HI>Princes,</HI> he is behind none, hauing <HI>Emba&s;&s;adors</HI> from, and &s;en|ding to them, more then any other temporall <HI>Prince</HI> what&s;oeuer. And when he &s;hewes him&s;elfe, it is in as great maie&s;ty, and with more cere|mony then is v&s;ed to any other <HI>Prince,</HI> which for exemplificati|tion &s;hall bee &s;hewed in the cu|&s;tome that is v&s;ed of ki&s;&s;ing his feet, and the manner of his car|rying in a chayre when he goes publiquely.</P>
<P>For the fir&s;t, vpon his Pantofle there is a cro&s;&s;e, which people in &s;hew of their reuerence and deuoti|on, ki&s;&s;e at the time of his giuing au|dience to Emba&s;&s;adors, or &s;ome other publike a&s;&s;embly: and this is to &s;hew the peoples reuerence to
<PB N="399" REF="207"> his per&s;on, and to &s;et forth his owne dignity. And the &s;igne of the Cro&s;&s;e vpon it, is to declare that in that action, the peoples de|uotion to our <HI>Sauiour,</HI> as well as honour to him, might be expre&s;|&s;ed, and in a kinde, for acknow|ledgement, that Religion is vnder his gouernment, and &s;ubiection. For his being carried in a chayre vpon mens &s;houlders, they vrge this to be v&s;ed as an argume~t of his &s;anctity, and holine&s;&s;e, to &s;tirre vp reuerence in the beholders, and de|uotion in their hearts, and that as all outward re&s;pects be v&s;ed to ho|nour the <HI>Princes</HI> of the world, &s;o there ought to bee much more to the <HI>Pope,</HI> beeing head of the <HI>Church.</HI> In this kinde he is v&s;ual|ly carried, when he goes to <HI>Church</HI> or <HI>Con&s;i&s;tory.</HI></P>
<PB N="400" REF="208">
<P> Now to end this part with the <HI>Cardinals:</HI> it is &s;trange to &s;ee their pride, euery one e&s;teeming him|&s;elfe of equall ranke with any <HI>Prince,</HI> and are &s;erued with a kinde of extraordinary pompe, v&s;ing in their roomes of audience, cloathes of e&s;tate, as <HI>Princes</HI> doe, and when they goe to Con&s;i&s;tory, you &s;hall haue one of them atte~ded by their friends and followers with 20. or 30. Coaches, and at lea&s;t 200. or 300. <HI>Staffieri</HI> or footmen. Some in this kinde exceed other, but the principall bee <HI>Montalto,</HI> that was <HI>Sixtus Quintus,</HI> and <HI>Aldobrandino,</HI> that was <HI>Clement the eighth,</HI> and <HI>Borghe&s;e,</HI> that is this <HI>Popes</HI> fauou|rite. Some others liue more retired, of which ranke <HI>Bellarmine</HI> is chief|ly noted. Mo&s;t of them bee in faction <HI>Spani&s;h,</HI> and all receiuing
<PB N="401" REF="208"> bribes and pen&s;ions from him. Their creation comes either from the <HI>Popes</HI> particular fauour, or &s;ome great <HI>Princes</HI> interce&s;&s;ion; younger brothers of great fami|lies, and all in a manner by the way of the pre&s;ent fauourite, who en|riches him&s;elfe, and makes his fac|tion great, by the di&s;tribution of the&s;e honours. I onely &s;aw them once a&s;&s;embled together, and that was in the <HI>Popes</HI> priuate <HI>Chappell,</HI> at <HI>Saint Peters,</HI> vpon <HI>All-Saints</HI> e|uen, when the <HI>Pope</HI> &s;ang <HI>Ve&s;pers</HI> or Euen-&s;ong: there were in num|ber of them about &s;ome 30. I thinke, all that were then in <HI>Rome.</HI></P>
<P>Where I ob&s;erued 3. things; fir&s;t, their <HI>places,</HI> all &s;itting round about the <HI>Chappell;</HI> &s;econdly, their <HI>habits,</HI> of Scarlet; thirdly, their <HI>reuerence</HI> to the <HI>Pope,</HI> in the time that the
<PB N="402" REF="209"> <HI>Antheme</HI> was &s;ung, euery one in his ranke, one after another, ri&s;ing out of their &s;eates, and going to his chayre, which is by the <HI>Altar,</HI> where they adore him in this kind, by bending their bodies, kneeling, and ki&s;&s;ing his garments.</P>
<P>Among&s;t the&s;e Cardinals I prin|cipally ob&s;erued two: one for his learning, and that was <HI>Bellarmine,</HI> a little leane old man; the other was <HI>Cardinall To&s;co,</HI> &amp; he, at the <HI>Conclaue</HI> when this <HI>Pope</HI> was cho&s;en, was &s;o neere being cho&s;en, that many yet thinke the election went on his &s;ide. For of 60. hee had 45. voices. But when he was &s;et in his Chayre, and they comming to adore him, <HI>Baronius</HI> came in, &amp; &s;aid, Will you choo&s;e him head of the Church, that cannot &s;peake a &s;entence with|out that &s;currilous by-word of the
<PB N="403" REF="209" MS="y"> <HI>Lombards (Cazzo)</HI> what a &s;hame will this bee in our election? and vpon this diuers of his voyces fell from him, &amp; he lo&s;t the <HI>Popedome.</HI></P>
<P>Now for that I gather from this place, which &s;hall be very &s;hort, it is this; That the &s;umptuou&s;ne&s;&s;e of the <HI>Pope,</HI> and the pride of his go|uernment, is one token of the fal|&s;ity of their doctrine; &s;eeing they which pretend to haue rule ouer, and to giue direction vnto others, are tainted with this lepro&s;ie. For it is neuer &s;eene that the body is &s;ound, when the head is corrupt, &amp; it is impo&s;&s;ible for any to guide another, that &s;tumbles in his owne way, or to bee a directer to others, that &s;tands in his owne light.</P>
<P>More particularly for the&s;e <HI>Pre|lates:</HI> it is quite contrary to the or|dinance
<PB N="404" REF="210"> of <HI>God,</HI> and different from the example of <HI>Chri&s;t,</HI> and <HI>his Apo|&s;tles,</HI> to challenge temporall iuri&s;|diction or &s;uperiority, when their charge is onely to <HI>in&s;truct.</HI> And they who &s;hould be examples for others to imitate, in life and con|uer&s;ation, and in that kind to teach as well by example as precept, what in&s;truction can wee gather fro~ them, but ambitious thoughts, and vn&s;atisfied de&s;ires after the wealth and glory of this world?</P>
<P>Againe, their exce&s;&s;e in this kind is vnnece&s;&s;ary; for what can bee pretended for the&s;e <HI>Popes</HI> and o|ther Eccle&s;ia&s;ticall per&s;ons, that they &s;hould &s;o violently de&s;ire ho|nour, and &s;uperfluity in wealth? Are they not, by their owne rules, in a manner, &s;eparated from the world, and bard from any
<PB N="405" REF="210"> hope of &s;ucceeders in their owne po&s;terity? Therefore one &s;hould imagine the&s;e &s;o immoderate de|&s;ires, impertinent. And it could be no diminution either to the glory or progre&s;&s;e of <HI>Religion;</HI> for the ve|ry function it &s;elfe is honourable, and reuerenced; and moderate at|tributions both of dignity and li|uing ought to be a&s;cribed them. But why all &s;hould bee included within this center, and wholly re|ferred to the per&s;on of the <HI>Pope,</HI> I neither &s;ee for it <HI>Rea&s;on,</HI> nor <HI>Re|ligion.</HI></P>
<P>But la&s;tly, this extremity of their pride is adua~tageous again&s;t them, and giues dangerous examples e|uen among&s;t them&s;elues. When the People be taught moderation and &s;obriety, and &s;ee exce&s;&s;e and liberty in their teachers, none is
<PB N="406" REF="211"> &s;o blinde but mu&s;t &s;ee their deceit. When they are in&s;tructed in acts of charity, and per&s;waded to im|poueri&s;h them&s;elues to enrich a <HI>Priest,</HI> who can &s;hadow their co|&s;enage? When they pronounce In|dulgences, and we pay for them; what man can think the <HI>Pope</HI> hath &s;o much intere&s;t in <HI>God,</HI> as to make him pardon vs, for his profit? When they profe&s;&s;e &s;anctity and &s;trict|ne&s;&s;e of life; who will beleeue him, when, after he hath gotten to be a <HI>Bi&s;hop</HI> or <HI>Cardinal,</HI> he is found to be as proud, &s;editious and couetous as the re&s;t? When the <HI>Pope</HI> profe&s;|&s;eth pouerty, and as they &s;ay in his proce&s;&s;ion, when he is elected, be|ing carried publikely to &s;hew him|&s;elfe to the world, hurles bra&s;&s;e a|mong&s;t the people, and v&s;es the&s;e words of <HI>Saint Peter, Gold and &s;iluer</HI>
<PB N="407" REF="211"> <HI>haue I none, but that which I haue, I giue vnto thee,</HI> what man per|ceiues not their abu&s;ing of the <HI>Scripture,</HI> and mocking of the people? When the <HI>Pope,</HI> to &s;hew his humility vpon the <HI>Maundy Thur&s;day,</HI> wa&s;hes the feet of the poore, and in the meane time is at|tended with Cardinals, and Em|ba&s;&s;adors, &s;ome giuing him water, &s;ome the towell, others holding his traine, him&s;elfe carried into, and out of the roome, as if he were too good to tread on the earth; what man can bee &s;o &s;tupid that di&s;|cernes not his pride? Thus you may &s;ee what contrarietie there is betwixt their profe&s;&s;ion and prac|tice. And &s;o I will leaue this ob&s;er|uation.</P>
<P><MILESTONE N="7"> And now to draw to a conclu&s;i|on: after this de&s;cription I doe not
<PB N="408" REF="212"> thinke it vnnece&s;&s;ary to &s;ay &s;ome|thing of the &s;afety and danger for an <HI>Engli&s;h man</HI> to trauell thither. And I am the rather induced vnto it, becau&s;e I haue heard from many that haue beene there, &s;uch &s;trange tales, and &s;uch wonders of their e&s;cape, as if they meant to &s;carre vs with <HI>Rome,</HI> as children be heere with <HI>Hobgoblins.</HI></P>
<P>It is true, that for &s;ome per&s;ons there can be no place in the world &s;o dangerous for them to come in, as this; and they are &s;uch, as haue beene noted either to be extreme per&s;ecuters of them, violently ad|dicted again&s;t them, or &s;uch as haue oppo&s;ed them by publike di&s;|putation, or writing, in matter of <HI>Controuer&s;ie;</HI> for the&s;e, it is certaine, if they be found, they &s;hall be ei|ther brought into the <HI>Inqui&s;ition,</HI> or
<PB N="409" REF="212"> forced to bee reconciled to their <HI>Church.</HI> And yet I do not thinke it impo&s;&s;ible for any of this &s;ort to make a Voyage thither, and neuer be &s;urprized; but then they mu&s;t neither publi&s;h their purpo&s;e nor time; for the <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> there, haue eyes and eares in all places, and &s;uch a man is no &s;ooner gone, or purpo&s;es to go out of <HI>England,</HI> but they heare of it, and he can liue in no place of <HI>Italy,</HI> but they haue in|telligence of him. Therefore the &s;afe&s;t cour&s;e for &s;uch a one, is to pa&s;&s;e that, before hee &s;ettle in any other place, and in the meane time neither to make him&s;elfe, nor intention knowne to any body li|uing, for then there may bee a po&s;|&s;ibility of di&s;couery. And be|&s;ides it is nece&s;&s;ary, that he haue &s;ome other Language be&s;ides his
<PB N="410" REF="213"> owne, that hee may pa&s;&s;e for that Country-man: and a|mong&s;t &s;ome of them hee &s;hould troope him&s;elfe, and bee care|full al&s;o, that with them hee ne|uer &s;hew any di&s;-affection to the <HI>Religion;</HI> for then they may grow iealous, and di&s;couer him. Be&s;ides, I would not haue him &s;tay there too long, nor con|uer&s;e with any of his owne Na|tion.</P>
<P>There bee &s;ome others al&s;o that may not come hither &s;afe|ly; and they are of this &s;ort, who though them&s;elues haue in no action giuen them cau&s;e of offence, yet &s;ome of their name or Kindred, either were, or bee profe&s;&s;ed enemies again&s;t them. Others al&s;o are endan|gered heere, if they haue any
<PB N="411" REF="213"> particular enemy, that is great in, or hath intere&s;t with any of the <HI>Colledge</HI> (for no <HI>Engli&s;hman</HI> is put into the <HI>Inqui&s;ition,</HI> vnle&s;&s;e hee giue &s;ome publique offence but by their meanes) then perad|uenture he may be brought into trouble, onely vpon reuenge and malice.</P>
<P>But for others, and &s;pecially men of <HI>Quality,</HI> their comming hi|ther may bee with as much free|dome, as to any other part of <HI>Italy.</HI> I my &s;elfe haue, and haue met with diuers that do finde it &s;o, and there|fore, I beleeue it, what&s;oeuer other men &s;ay to the contrary, to grace, or make wonderfull their owne <HI>Trauels.</HI></P>
<P>Now after the <HI>per&s;on,</HI> tho&s;e <HI>acti|ons</HI> which may bring a man into danger, ought to bee auoided. If a
<PB N="412" REF="214"> man, in his going thither, or being there, conuer&s;e with <HI>Italians,</HI> and di&s;clo&s;e, or di&s;pute his <HI>Religion,</HI> he is &s;ure, vnle&s;&s;e hee fly, to be com|plained on, and brought within the Inqui&s;ition. For they hold it an act of merit, to di&s;couer an <HI>Heretique</HI> (as they terme vs) thinking that by this meanes wee may be drawne from our <HI>Religion,</HI> and the honour of our conuer&s;ion (as they call it) mu&s;t be attributed to them.</P>
<P>Next, when you are in the <HI>Church,</HI> or neere any <HI>Relique, Cro&s;&s;e,</HI> or <HI>Proce&s;sion</HI> in the &s;treet; you mu&s;t giue no &s;candal, nor &s;eeme to to be &s;ingular from the actions of other men: but if you be de&s;irous to auoid their <HI>&s;uper&s;tition,</HI> you mu&s;t forbeare co~ming into their <HI>Chur|ches,</HI> at <HI>Ma&s;&s;e-time,</HI> or <HI>Ve&s;pers,</HI> and bevvare of their <HI>&s;treet-encounters.</HI></P>
<PB N="413" REF="214">
<P> Thirdly, in the place where you lye, you mu&s;t bee carefull to ob|&s;erue their <HI>Fa&s;ts,</HI> &amp; not be curious in de&s;iring, or &s;eeming to de&s;ire &s;uch fare as tho&s;e dayes will not admit.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides, it ought to be one of our principall cares, le&s;t in any place where we &s;hould re&s;ide, before our comming thither, wee &s;hew our &s;elues too bitter and violent again&s;t our Nation there, e&s;pecially in their per&s;ons; for that may exa&s;perate, if it come to their knowledge.</P>
<P>Fiftly, it is a meere folly in any man that hath liued publiquely in any town of <HI>Italy,</HI> before he come thither, to hide and conceale him|&s;elfe there, for hee cannot liue vn|di&s;couered: and peraduenture this iealou&s;ie of ours, and di&s;tru&s;t of them, may produce &s;ome mi&s;chiefe
<PB N="414" REF="215"> again&s;t vs, which otherwi&s;e they would neuer dreame of. But &s;ome will bee &s;o quicke, that they will come to <HI>Rome,</HI> and away before they haue halfe &s;lept. And certain|ly, &s;uch di&s;po&s;itions, I thinke, they had euen as good liued in <HI>England,</HI> with their Nur&s;es, and would haue there got as much experience, I am &s;ure, as much wit.</P>
<P>Sixtly, I hold it very dangerous, for a man that is knowne to bee there, to goe about to co&s;en the <HI>Colledge,</HI> and make them beleeue he is a <HI>Papi&s;t,</HI> when there is no &s;uch matter. For this di&s;&s;imulation may cau&s;e them to force him to expre&s;&s;e that which he affirmes, by &s;ome act, that may foyle his <HI>Religio~.</HI> And therefore, methinkes, it is a &s;trange Arrogance in tho&s;e people, to goe about to deceiue them, that know
<PB N="415" REF="215"> their <HI>Religion,</HI> and Character, as well as them&s;elues.</P>
<P>Next, in your conuer&s;ation, &s;hew (and &s;o peraduenture you may haue cau&s;e) to expre&s;&s;e a thankeful|ne&s;&s;e for tho&s;e courte&s;ies you re|ceiue: and though they giue you cau&s;e to &s;peake &s;omething in the defence of your <HI>Religion,</HI> &s;hew no violence, nor reply not too much, by which you &s;hall argue your owne temper, and giue them le&s;&s;e cau&s;e to vrge you. For heate in di&s;|putation, e&s;pecially where a man comes with di&s;aduantage, &s;hewes folly in vs, and &s;tirres malice in them.</P>
<P>Now the finall caueat is, that by no meanes you goe about to per|&s;wade any from thence, though formerly your friend, and neere acquaintance. For you mu&s;t be|leeue,
<PB N="416" REF="216"> that they who dare let him conuer&s;e with you, be &s;ure that he will di&s;couer what&s;oeuer you &s;ay, and there is not any one thing, will &s;ooner breed a mi&s;chiefe again&s;t vs, then the attempting to diuert one from their &s;ocietie.</P>
<P>The la&s;t point that a man is to enter into con&s;ideration vpon, when hee trauailes to <HI>Rome,</HI> is the time. Fir&s;t, tho&s;e times of <HI>publique ho&s;tility,</HI> as in the Raigne of Queen <HI>Elizabeth,</HI> when the <HI>Pope</HI> thunde|red excommunications, and pro|fe&s;&s;ed him&s;elfe an open enemy to the State, as he did then, it is dange|rous. Next, if the Gouernour of the <HI>Engli&s;h</HI> there, were of &s;o violent and malicious a di&s;po&s;ition as <HI>Par|&s;ons</HI> was, there were little &s;afety. Thirdly, in the time of the <HI>holy weeke,</HI> becau&s;e then there is an ex|act
<PB N="417" REF="216"> view, and euery hou&s;holder is to render an account of tho&s;e &s;trangers he entertaines, that they haue confe&s;&s;ed, communicated, and the like. Fourthly, if a man &s;hould enter into any quarrell, and be apprehended by the Temporall Magi&s;trate, the <HI>Inqui&s;itio~</HI> al&s;o takes hold of him, and he cannot be de|liuered till he be reconciled to the <HI>Church.</HI> And la&s;tly, if a man &s;hould fall &s;ick, during the time of his be|ing there, within three dayes the Phy&s;ician is to take his oath, that his patient hath confe&s;&s;ed, &amp; com|municated, otherwi&s;e hee mu&s;t leaue him, and the party be deli|uered ouer to the <HI>Inqui&s;ition</HI> be|fore hee depart. And thus haue I briefely, and &s;incerely di&s;co|uered my knowledge of this place.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="half title">
<PB REF="217">
<PB REF="217">
<P>A DISCOVRSE AGAINST FLATTERIE.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="discourse">
<PB REF="218">
<PB N="419" REF="218">
<HEAD><HI>A</HI> DISCOVRSE AGAINST <HI>Flatterie.</HI></HEAD>
<P>_FLATTERIE may be de&s;cribed to be a kinde of &s;educing, or deceiuing by a counterfet, or fained commendation, whereby men are drawne to haue an ouer-good o|pinion, and liking of them&s;elues; through this fal&s;e gla&s;&s;e, making an vndue and too great e&s;timate of their owne parts, and actions;
<PB N="420" REF="219"> which, though peraduenture en|crea&s;ed by the &s;ubtiltie of <HI>Flatte|rers,</HI> yet is nouri&s;hed, and enlarged by their owne &s;elfe-loue.</P>
<P><HI>Flatterers</HI> doe not onely dazle, and deform our Intellectuall parts, but are meere moths in our e&s;tates, and liue vpon our &s;poile, by con|forming their words; and acts, to our wils and inclinations; where|by in&s;inuating them&s;elues into our fauour, they draw from vs our vn|der&s;tanding, and &s;o reduce vs to be either the &s;corne of other men, or Tributaries to them; one of which, <HI>Malice,</HI> or <HI>Gaine,</HI> mu&s;t needs be their ayme; the fir&s;t the more dangerous; but the &s;econd more common.</P>
<P>And therefore <HI>Chry&s;o&s;tome</HI> de|&s;ines Flatterers to be tho&s;e, <HI>Qui co|lunt aliquem, vt auferant ab eo aliquid</HI>
<PB N="421" REF="219"> <HI>boni temporarij.</HI> For when they commend any, for that he de&s;erues not at all, or more then he de&s;erues to be prai&s;ed, for any priuate end, or gaine to them&s;elues, I can call this exce&s;&s;iue plea&s;ing others in words and deeds, nothing el&s;e but <HI>Flatterie.</HI> By that in&s;inuation, they winde them&s;elues into the familia|ritie of tho&s;e, who&s;e fortunes and di&s;po&s;itions appeare to be &s;uch, that with probabilitie they may hope to worke and prey vpon, by this &s;weet infu&s;ion of <HI>Flattery;</HI> all men being naturally inclined to thinke the be&s;t of them&s;elues, &amp; to heare of it too.</P>
<P>Now the humori&s;t, that mu&s;t plea&s;e, and tickle our fancies, is a &s;mooth and &s;ly enemie, a Wolfe in &s;heepes cloathing, and &s;o much the more dangerous, and nece&s;&s;arie to
<PB N="422" REF="220" MS="y"> be ob&s;erued, and auoided, fi&s;hing with a &s;ubtill, and vn&s;eene&punc; bayt, <HI>Mel venenatum,</HI> or <HI>venenum melli|tum,</HI> &s;weet poi&s;on, or poi&s;on &s;weet|ned; as colouring trea&s;on, with the &s;hew of friend&s;hip; di&s;gui&s;ing di&s;|&s;imulation, with the pretence of li|bertie, and freedome in &s;peech, and the like. And this &s;eldome but in pre&s;ence, and commonly to &s;uch, out of whom they hope to &s;ucke &s;ome commoditie. Wherefore I may &s;ay, <HI>Quod diuitum &s;unt a&s;&s;eclae,</HI> a man of meanes &s;eldome wants &s;uch followers, &s;uch &s;hamele&s;&s;e and fawning creatures, that force can hardly repell them. And I think this to be the rea&s;on why <HI>Diogenes</HI> gaue the Epithete to <HI>Ari&s;tippus,</HI> of <HI>Canis Regius,</HI> the <HI>Kings Dogge,</HI> in re&s;pect of their cour&s;e of life, more &s;it to bee compared with the faw|ning
<PB N="423" REF="220"> nature of Dogges, then wor|thy to be honoured with the title of men.</P>
<P>I take <HI>Flatterie</HI> to be that which the Prophet allegorizeth in the P&s;almes, vnder the terme of <HI>Oleum Peccatoris. Emendabit me iu&s;tus, &amp; arguet me: Oleum autem peccatoris non impinguet caput meum,</HI> di&s;tingui|&s;hing betweene the reproofe of a <HI>Friend,</HI> and commendation of a <HI>Flatterer,</HI> choo&s;ing rather the &s;eue|re&s;t correction of a good man, the~ the &s;mooth and plea&s;ing prai&s;e of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> who tell vs we are hap|py, in the midde&s;t of misfortune, and make vs thinke our &s;elues to be well, when we are mo&s;t de&s;pe|rately infected. Tho&s;e therefore that be made proud, and in&s;ult, and &s;well, by the prai&s;es of the&s;e Di&s;|&s;emblers, and Sycophants, of &s;uch
<PB N="424" REF="221"> a one it may be well &s;aid, <HI>Creuit caput, Impinguatum e&s;t oleo peccato|ris;</HI> a fat and &s;wimming head in|deed, when it flowes, and is full of this kinde of oyle.</P>
<P><HI>Flatterie,</HI> and <HI>Di&s;simulation</HI> be of neere kinred; for all the Art of a <HI>Flatterer,</HI> is to &s;eeme that he is not: marke but the difference betwixt his outward apparance, and inward de&s;ires; his words, &amp; his thoughts; his &s;peech, &amp; his meaning. Before your friends, or your &s;elfe, they giue a <HI>Plaudite</HI> to al your actions, with a &s;hew of much loue, &amp; re&s;pect: but in priuate with your enemies, or &s;uch as they may hope to make &s;o, by doing you iniuries, they depraue &amp; detract you with a great deale of libertie, and &s;corne: in the meane time, peraduenture taking occa&s;ion vnder the colour of abu&s;ing you,
<PB N="425" REF="221"> and le&s;&s;ening your merit, to fall comparatiuely into their prai&s;es, and &s;o at one time, and with one tale, play both the parts of a <HI>Cen&s;u|rer,</HI> and <HI>Flatterer.</HI> Such men as the&s;e, it were not hard to &s;hew you euery day, who&s;e continuall trade is to abu&s;e the company they were la&s;t in, and to prai&s;e tho&s;e they are now withall: &s;uch as appeare with the face of frie~d&s;hip, but haue their hearts fraught with more malice &amp; venom the~ the &s;tings of Scorpions: &s;uch as would make the world be|leeue (and &s;o euery man, whom by their clo&s;e and cunning <HI>Flatterie</HI> they &s;urpri&s;e, doth) that they be the only men that giue good and ho|ne&s;t aduice, and di&s;creet cautions, charitable in peace-making, and all other good offices of that kinde: whereas indeed they be the clo&s;e&s;t
<PB N="426" REF="222"> breeders of mi&s;chiefe, malice, and detraction that do vnworthily liue.</P>
<P>The&s;e mens minds be truely <HI>Hermaphroditized;</HI> the&s;e be <HI>Plinies Androgyni</HI> in minde, though not in nature, who&s;e &s;exe re&s;emble both Male and Female: for you &s;hall haue them vary and change as of|ten as thought. And as the par|ties with whom they haue to doe, or as their fortunes alter, &s;o doe they. Sometimes al&s;o they be &s;o gro&s;&s;e in their <HI>Flattery,</HI> that they become ridiculous. As for in&s;tance; the <HI>Flattery</HI> of <HI>Cari&s;ophus</HI> to <HI>Dio|ny&s;ius,</HI> who &s;eeing <HI>Diony&s;ius</HI> in com|pany laughing and merry, he &s;mi|led for company, though he knew not the cau&s;e. <HI>Diony&s;ius</HI> &s;eeing him &s;mile, asked him why he did &s;o? Be|cau&s;e (&s;aid he) I thinke that which moues you to laugh, is worth
<PB N="427" REF="222"> laughing at. And this kinde of imitation is commonly the note of a <HI>Flatterer;</HI> but &s;ometimes al&s;o the badge of a <HI>Foole.</HI> And &s;o <HI>Cly&s;o|phus</HI> the <HI>Para&s;ite</HI> in <HI>Philip</HI> of <HI>Ma|cedons</HI> Court, when his ma&s;ter hal|ted becau&s;e he had the Gout, hee counterfeited lamene&s;&s;e too; and what&s;oeuer his Ma&s;ter was forced to by nece&s;&s;ity, hee would alwayes affectately imitate, according to <HI>Ouids</HI> de&s;cription of a <HI>Flatterer,</HI> what you denie hee for&s;weares; what you affirme hee iu&s;tifies; if you weepe he is &s;ad; if you laugh he is merry.</P>
<P>So that a <HI>Flatterer</HI> is a Mon&s;ter vgly to behold, if vi&s;ible; dange|rous to tru&s;t, if di&s;couered; hath the heads of <HI>Hydra</HI> for any mi&s;|cheuous inuention, the hands of <HI>Briareus</HI> for any ba&s;e or di&s;hone&s;t
<PB N="428" REF="223"> action, the eyes of <HI>Argus</HI> for any lewd or fal&s;e intelligence; legs &s;wift as <HI>Thalus</HI> for any trecherous or wicked de&s;igne. This is hee wee dare (and it is a wonder wee dare) admit into our priuacies, ap|pearing with a tongue as &s;weet as honey, though his heart be as bit|ter as gall; whence groweth that old de&s;cription allotted to them, <HI>Melin ore, verba lactis, fel in cor|de, fraus in factis.</HI> Yet for the mo&s;t part, the&s;e kind of men ouerweigh, and &s;way downe the mo&s;t faith|full and hone&s;t friends and Coun|&s;els. <HI>Ari&s;tippus</HI> flatterie with <HI>Diony|&s;ius,</HI> out-ballanced the hone&s;t free|dome and endeuours of <HI>Dion</HI> the <HI>Syracu&s;an. Cleo</HI> wrought more into the fauour of <HI>Alexander</HI> by his <HI>Flat|tery,</HI> then <HI>Cali&s;thenes</HI> could preuaile by his free and hone&s;t Coun&s;ell.</P>
<PB N="429" REF="223">
<P> Of this tribe and generation were <HI>Achabs</HI> fal&s;e <HI>prophets;</HI> they a&s;&s;ured and promi&s;ed him to bee free from all dangers, certaine of pro&s;peritie and good fortune; but it fell out otherwi&s;e, and his For|tunes (which they onely &s;erued) were decayed and lo&s;t. Euen &s;o the <HI>Flatterers</HI> of this age play the fal&s;e <HI>prophets,</HI> and alwaies progno|&s;ticate of faire weather and good fortunes to attend vs, in the meane time, pa&s;&s;ing ouer with &s;ilence tho&s;e plaine, obuious, and pre&s;ent errors, that be manife&s;t <HI>Symptomes</HI> of our certaine ouerthrow, if not &s;uddenly altered and amended. So you may &s;ee what a weakene&s;&s;e it is for any man to tru&s;t the&s;e vncer|taine windes, to build vpon the&s;e &s;ands.</P>
<P><HI>Adulatoris verba,</HI> &s;aith <HI>Tri&s;me|gi&s;tus,</HI>
<PB N="430" REF="224"> <HI>&s;unt iniquitas &amp; dolus. The words of a Flatterer bee iniquity and deceit,</HI> ouer-growne with canker and ru&s;t, incroaching vpon vs: at the fir&s;t, intruders of &s;mall appa|rance, and by that meanes taking the &s;urer hold. The&s;e bee they that with their <HI>Syrenicall</HI> charmes throw vs vpon the vnauoidable dangers of <HI>Scylla</HI> and <HI>Charybdis.</HI> The&s;e be tho&s;e Infernal Spirits, that di&s;&s;wade from all good purpo&s;ed or intended, and from any thing that hath affinity either with ho|ne&s;ty, or goodne&s;&s;e. But on the contrary, prouokers of all vnclean|ne&s;&s;e, corruption, wickedne&s;&s;e and ob&s;caenitie, and as <HI>Theodoret</HI> notes, <HI>Incipiunt a Placebo, &s;ed in fine &s;epeli|unt in peccatis.</HI></P>
<P>Some there be of this damned crue, who, &s;o they may plea&s;e you
<PB N="431" REF="224"> with prai&s;es, care neither why nor wherefore they doe it: again&s;t which kinde of men, <HI>Salomons</HI> cau|tion <HI>Pro.</HI> 27. <HI>v.</HI> 6. to vs, is worthy the ob&s;eruing. <HI>The wounds of a Lo|uer are faithfull; but the ki&s;&s;es of an Enemy be to bee &s;hunned.</HI> And a|gaine, his malediction to them &s;hould &s;erue as a bridle, <HI>Pro.</HI> 27. <HI>v.</HI> 14. <HI>Hee that prai&s;eth his friend with a loud voyce, ri&s;ing early in the morning, it &s;hall be counted vnto him as a cur&s;e.</HI> And for the mo&s;t part the&s;e traders practi&s;e this Art, ei|ther in hope of fauour or gaine; and that is the rea&s;on why they pre&s;&s;e into the company of &s;uch as be men of dignitie and place. For as no vermine will breed, where they finde no heate; no Vulture haunt where they finde no prey; no Flies &s;warme where there is no
<PB N="432" REF="225"> fle&s;h: &s;o no Flatterer lurkes where he findes no gaine.</P>
<P>A man may oftentimes finde out a Flatterer by this, that their prai&s;es, if you well ob&s;erue them, doe oftentimes fall vpon con|trarieties. So, it is plaine, that they &s;peake <HI>ficte, non vere,</HI> fainedly, not from the heart; and that manife&s;teth their di&s;&s;imulation and deceit; and their prai&s;ing of &s;uch actions as we know and ac|knowledge to be naught, argues their ayme to be directly for pri|uate ends, neither for the benefite of him they prai&s;e, nor good exam|ple of others. Wherefore I could wi&s;h, that all men were of <HI>Achilles</HI> his minde, who, as <HI>Homer</HI> reports, <HI>Hated not the gates of Hell &s;o much, as hee did tho&s;e that &s;pake otherwi&s;e then they thought.</HI> And wee had
<PB N="433" REF="225"> need bee very well fortified and con&s;tant in this re&s;olution: for they bee of &s;o &s;eruile a condition, that though you reiect them, they will &s;till ob&s;erue; though you ba|ni&s;h them your companie, yet they will attempt entertainment a|gaine.</P>
<P>But they wait onely vpon our good fortunes, and the lea&s;t winde of aduer&s;itie di&s;per&s;eth them; when our meanes fall, they faile; which plainely &s;heweth them to be of a mo&s;t ba&s;e condition. Of this ranke were 2. <HI>Kings ch.</HI> 9. <HI>v.</HI> 35. <HI>Iezabels Eunuches,</HI> who in her pro&s;peritie &s;erued and followed her with all diligence and ob&s;eruance: but when fortune turned the wheele, King <HI>Iehu</HI> had no &s;ooner &s;aid the word, <HI>Ca&s;t her downe,</HI> but they did ca&s;t her downe. They are mo&s;t
<PB N="434" REF="226"> diligent ob&s;eruers of the time, then to vent their <HI>Flattery,</HI> when men bee mo&s;t likely to giue eare vnto them: therefore wee ought at all times to bee very watchfull ouer them; for if once they ca&s;t anchor in our affections, they will hardly loo&s;e their hold.</P>
<P><HI>Dolus,</HI> &s;aith <HI>Saint Augu&s;tine, du|plicat cor, adulatio duplicat lin|guam. Deceit doubles the heart, Flattery the tongue:</HI> the&s;e two bee mixed together; for when the tongue &s;aith one thing, and the heart thinketh another; when the thoughts go South, and the tongue North, there is the di&s;ea&s;e. So that <HI>Flattery</HI> cannot &s;ub&s;i&s;t without di&s;|&s;imulation. And &s;eeing they bee &s;o &s;ubtill and cunning to deceiue and entrap vs, wee cannot be too carefull in the choyce of our com|panie,
<PB N="435" REF="226"> our friends, and adui&s;ers to choo&s;e &s;uch as loue goodne&s;&s;e and truth, and &s;uch as &s;o de&s;ire to plea&s;e and commend their friends, that they may encourage their con&s;tan|cie and continuance in vertue, not to puffe them vp with ouer-great thoughts of them&s;elues. But &s;eeing &s;uch a one is hard to be found, and not ea&s;ily di&s;cerned, this aduice of <HI>Ciceroes</HI> is worthy the ob&s;eruing, who &s;ayes, <HI>Amici tibi &s;int multi, Con|&s;iliarius autem vnus.</HI> Our friends may bee many, but one Coun&s;el|ler, and hee &s;uch as hates this de|te&s;table vice. <HI>Diogenes</HI> calls it <HI>Le|thale mul&s;um,</HI> poy&s;on in a cup of gold; though outwardly beau|tifull, yet full of hidden cor|ruption, Ma&s;ters of that Art which <HI>Tully</HI> calls <HI>Mercenarium praeconium.</HI></P>
<PB N="436" REF="227">
<P> <HI>Flatterers</HI> by <HI>Symonides</HI> are com|pared to <HI>Cookes;</HI> for as they doe &s;weeten with &s;awces &s;uch kinde of meates as of them&s;elues bee bitter and &s;harpe: &s;o <HI>Flatterers, Verbis Coquinarijs</HI> (that I may v&s;e the Pro|uerb) &s;ooth vs in tho&s;e things for which wee ought to be reproued, and with their cunning Cookery &s;ettle and infu&s;e &s;o good an opini|on in vs of our &s;elues, that in after|time our iudgements be &s;o &s;ubuer|ted, that we e&s;teeme our wor&s;t acti|ons worthy prai&s;e, and our vices vertues.</P>
<P><HI>Quintus Curtius</HI> opinion was not without ground when he &s;aid, that <HI>More Kings and Kingdomes were o|uerthrowne by the means of Flattery, then by publike Ho&s;tility.</HI> How plen|tifull Stories be to iu&s;tifie this Para|doxe, euery man that will take the
<PB N="437" REF="227"> paines to reade them, may know; for there was neuer yet trea&s;on clo&s;ely attempted, but di&s;gui&s;ed with <HI>Flattery.</HI> A few examples I will giue you. <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> had not been &s;o ea&s;ily murthered in the Senate, if <HI>Flattery</HI> and faire words had not a&s;&s;ured him of his &s;afety. <HI>Alex|ander</HI> the Great, who was poy&s;o|ned in the mid&s;t of his triumphes at <HI>Babylon,</HI> receiued it not at the hands of a &s;tranger or enemy, but tho&s;e hee mo&s;t tru&s;ted, his Cup|bearer <HI>Iola,</HI> and Kin&s;man <HI>Antipa|ter.</HI> Who could be more caute|lous then <HI>Cicero?</HI> and yet vnder colour of friend&s;hip, he was di&s;co|uered and betrayed by his friend <HI>Popilius,</HI> in who&s;e defence hee had formerly pleaded, and &s;aued from an ignominious death. But not to weary you with many more
<PB N="438" REF="228"> examples: Was not <HI>Iudas</HI> his <HI>Flat|tery</HI> the apparant and vi&s;ible means of effecting his trea&s;on again&s;t <HI>Chri&s;t,</HI> when his embracements and ki&s;&s;es pointed him out to bee apprehended? And la&s;tly, the o|riginall fall of Mankinde may bee referred to the in&s;inuating <HI>Flatte|ry</HI> of the <HI>Diuell</HI> in &s;hape of a Ser|pent, that &s;o hee might become more lowly and humble to di&s;|gui&s;e his di&s;&s;imulation, when hee meant to worke vpon the weake|ne&s;&s;e and credulitie of the wo|man; for you &s;hall alwaies finde this way of deceiuing, &s;hadow|ed with courte&s;ie, trea&s;on vnder tru&s;t.</P>
<P>But although the infection of this pe&s;tilence bee dangerous to all men, yet in re&s;pect of the con&s;equence, farre more pe|rilous
<PB N="439" REF="228"> to men of great and emi|nent place. For as di&s;ea&s;es bee euer more violent, where they meete with full and abounding bodies, and the cure more vn|certaine: &s;o (the application is at hand) when per&s;ons of quality bee tainted with the poy&s;on of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> be&s;ides their owne lo&s;&s;e, that folly of theirs, to bee gulled by the&s;e Impo&s;tors, aduanceth the trade of <HI>Flattery,</HI> and encrea&s;eth their breed. For all tho&s;e that &s;erue and depend vpon &s;uch, if they hope to obtaine any thing by their fauour, or doe de&s;ire to continue in grace, they mu&s;t worke it by &s;oothing them in all their ridiculous affections, and &s;o &s;laue them-&s;elues to <HI>Flat|terie;</HI> which, to any hone&s;t
<PB N="440" REF="229"> minde is a vice as odious, as truth is a vertue &s;uperlatiue; for it is the &s;ubuer&s;ion of truth, a reprochfull vice, as ill becomming a man, as impudencie a woman, which &s;hamefull and la&s;ciuious behaui|our, as you &s;hall find &s;ome &s;trange compo&s;itions of men delighted withall; &s;o <HI>Flattery</HI> bewitcheth and benummeth other mens &s;en|ces, again&s;t all probabilitie of rea|&s;on; acting a wor&s;e part then that of a fal&s;e witne&s;&s;e; for hee cor|rupts not, but deceiues the iudge|ment, producing an ill opinion or &s;entence again&s;t our will &amp; know|ledge: but <HI>Flattery</HI> corrupts the iudgement, inchants the vnder|&s;tanding, and makes a man vnca|pable to take the lea&s;t impre&s;&s;ion of any good or hone&s;t aduice. So that you &s;ee this dome&s;ticall enemie of
<PB N="441" REF="229"> ours hath a &s;ting, though hid, and many times hurts vs mo&s;t, where lea&s;t doubted.</P>
<P>The credit the&s;e <HI>Flatterers</HI> gaine to them&s;elues, is commonly vn|der the title and pretence of friend|&s;hip, and in &s;tead of withdrawing vs from ill, confirme vs in it: like tho&s;e of whom <HI>Ezechiel</HI> &s;peakes, <HI>Cap.</HI> 13. <HI>ver.</HI> 18. that &s;ow <HI>pillowes vnder our armeholes,</HI> &s;o commen|ding our vices, that we may &s;inne with more &s;ecuritie, and delight, nouri&s;hing and increa&s;ing our er|rours, as oyle addes flame to fire: wherefore it is very dangerous to giue credit to &s;uch, who in the per|&s;on of friends, proue &s;o dangerous enemies, confirming and encrea|&s;ing all our corrupt affections, by con&s;ent, either in conformitie, or application of them&s;elues to the
<PB N="442" REF="230"> &s;ame actions, by approbation, in al|lowance, though not imitation of their precedent, or by extenuation, or rather iu&s;tification: as terming anger, &s;eueritie: fury, zeale: ra&s;h|ne&s;&s;e, boldne&s;&s;e: pu&s;illanimitie, hu|militie: laui&s;h expences, liberality: couetou&s;ne&s;&s;e, par&s;imonie, or the like. And the&s;e be tho&s;e deceiuers, that in the frontispice, or out&s;ide, proclaime the name of friend; but this is only in outward apparance, not inward affection: like tho&s;e &s;pirits of darkne&s;&s;e, that can tran&s;|forme them&s;elues into Angels of light.</P>
<P>It is the common practice of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> to counterfet, rather the~ not imitate, the pa&s;&s;ions &amp; formes of tho&s;e they apply them&s;elues vnto, their &s;ullenne&s;&s;e and mirth, as they haue their different varia|tions:
<PB N="443" REF="230"> &s;o they &s;ometimes with the Crocodile of <HI>Nile</HI> will nothing but weepe and lament, and imme|diately change that tune, to the mirth and &s;ongs of <HI>Syrens:</HI> now with ioy, &s;ometimes with griefe conforming them&s;elues to that humor, which at that in&s;tant they doe think to be mo&s;t predominant in vs, making them&s;elues volunta|ry &s;laues to anothers inclination; in the meane time not caring how vntruely, &s;o plau&s;ibly they may &s;peake. So ba&s;e is their minde, &s;o mercenary their tongue. But when the tide turnes, there is no danger in their power that they will not ca&s;t vpon vs, in laying vs open to our enemies, di&s;clo&s;ing tho&s;e &s;e|crets they haue formerly by their <HI>Flatterie</HI> &s;tolne from vs, and the like: &s;uppo&s;ing by this di&s;hone&s;t
<PB N="444" REF="231"> meanes to &s;tand vpright, though his titular friend be declined; or el&s;e expecting no more aduantage from him, hope vpon the a&s;hes of his ruine, to build a new fortune with him that cau&s;ed his ouer|throw. For as <HI>Acteon</HI> was murthe|red by his own dogs: &s;o they, who aduance and cheri&s;h Flatterers, are commonly by them ouerthrowne and vndone: all which, by this po|&s;itiue prouerbe of <HI>Salomons, Prou.</HI> 26. <HI>ver.</HI> 25. is confirmed. <HI>A fal&s;e tongue hateth the afflicted, and a flat|tering mouth cau&s;eth ruine.</HI> And ther|fore it is good to follow his ad|uice, <HI>Prou.</HI> 26. <HI>ver.</HI> 29. <HI>Though hee &s;peake fauourably, beleeue him not, for there are &s;euen abominations in his heart</HI> And as Saint <HI>Bernard</HI> &s;peakes of it, <HI>Bla<GAP DESC="illegible" RESP="UOM" EXTENT="1 letter">da e&s;t, &s;ed a&s;pera; dulcis, &s;ed amara.</HI></P>
<PB N="445" REF="231">
<P> Where <HI>Flattery</HI> beares &s;way, ho|ne&s;tie is thru&s;t out of doores; where <HI>Flattery</HI> is aduanced, there truth is bani&s;hed &amp; oppre&s;&s;ed: and where <HI>Flattery</HI> obtaines friend|&s;hip, there truth findes hatred. See|ing then, in a manner, the differen|ces be as great betwixt this and <HI>truth,</HI> as <HI>truth</HI> and <HI>lying,</HI> wee had need to pray with <HI>Dauid, P&s;al.</HI> 28. <HI>ver.</HI> 3. <HI>That we may not bee drawne away with the wicked and workers of iniquitie, that &s;peake friendly to their neighbours, when malice is in their hearts.</HI> Yet now adaies it hath got|ten &s;o much the vpper hand of the world, and is growne &s;o common, that he who &s;cornes to <HI>Flatter,</HI> wil generally be thought to bee either enuious, or proud: for it hath now, in a manner, quite left the name of a vice, and gotten the reputation of
<PB N="446" REF="232"> a vertue. It hath &s;haken off the old name of deceit, and is now coue|red with the title of wi&s;edome: it hath quite lo&s;t his ancient attribute of co&s;enage, and hath gotten it &s;elfe graced by the name of Policy. It is nece&s;&s;arie therefore, to reduce it to the former colours, le&s;t the out&s;ide deceiue.</P>
<P>Be therefore &s;o farre from it, as to e&s;teeme better of a friends re|prehen&s;ion, then of all the prai&s;es a <HI>Flatterer</HI> can giue you, who&s;e end is to confirme and fa&s;ten you in your errours, by his fained com|mendations, di&s;&s;embled loue, and affection; &s;ubuerting and &s;ubdu|ing your minde from any tincture of goodne&s;&s;e, which iu&s;tifies that &s;peech of Saint <HI>Augustines,</HI> where he &s;ayes, <HI>Quod plus per&s;equitur lin|gua adulatoris, quam manus per&s;ecu|toris.</HI>
<PB N="447" REF="232"> For if the hand of an enemy hurt not &s;o much as the tongue of a Flatterer, much le&s;&s;e the rebukes of a friend, which will be able to abide all te&s;ts: agreeing with <HI>Salo|mon,</HI> who &s;aith, <HI>Pro.</HI> 28. <HI>ver.</HI> 23. <HI>He that rebuketh a man, &s;hall finde more fauour at length, then hee that flatte|reth with his tongue.</HI> Cro&s;&s;ing that pa&s;&s;age of the Comicall Poet, <HI>Ob|&s;equium amicos, veritas odium parit. Flatterie, procures friend&s;hip; but truth, hatred.</HI></P>
<P>But this you may be &s;ure of, that though the&s;e di&s;guized and deceit|full prai&s;es of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> pre&s;&s;e more vpon the confirmation of our ill, then of our good parts; yet our nature is &s;o fraile, that we are commonly better plea&s;ed with the couerers, then the di&s;couerers of our ill affections; not &s;o much
<PB N="448" REF="233"> con&s;idering with our &s;elues what we are indeed, as what wee &s;eeme to be to others, carried away with a &s;elfe-opinion, requiring, as it were, the Te&s;timonial of our good parts, not from our owne con&s;ciences, but the vaine report of others; nay, though our con&s;ciences accu&s;e vs, that tho&s;e things we be commen|ded for, de&s;erue nothing le&s;&s;e; yet the <HI>Flatterer</HI> &s;o &s;urprizeth vs, that we no &s;ooner begin to condemne our &s;elues, but his di&s;&s;embling prai|&s;es, &amp; glorious glo&s;&s;es, choake that good meditation. Liking therefore &s;o well, to heare well of our &s;elues, we &s;hould endeuour to de&s;erue it. Whence proceeded all tho&s;e ridi|culous and vnnaturall vices of <HI>Do|mitius Nero?</HI> who&s;e beginning of Soueraignty, while&s;t he gaue eare to good coun&s;ell, is compared to
<PB N="449" REF="233"> the times of the be&s;t Emperors; but when once the reynes of his affec|tions were let loo&s;e, what ab&s;urd, what cruell, what vnnaturall acts did he &s;ticke at? and yet the vici|ou&s;ne&s;&s;e of the time &s;o ob&s;erued and prai&s;ed him, that they turned his beliefe into an imagination, that his gro&s;e&s;t vices were reputed for principall vertues. Witne&s;&s;e the thank&s;giuing of the Senate to the gods, for the murder of his Mo|ther, and the vaine <HI>Plaudites</HI> hee expected for his ridiculous Rimes, and fooli&s;h affectation, or rather e|mulation vpon the publike Stage of the part of a Min&s;trel, &amp; Player; which &s;implicities of his were by <HI>Flattery</HI> &s;o wound in him, that when he was, in a manner, certaine of his de&s;tiny, yet &s;ome fla&s;hes of the&s;e vanities did &s;till remaine.</P>
<PB N="450" REF="234">
<P> Now the rea&s;on, why men a|gain&s;t all rea&s;on be &s;o &s;trangely o|uertaken and blinded with the prai&s;es of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> is, though common, yet vncertaine to ghe&s;&s;e; &s;ure it mu&s;t be either &s;uch a malig|nitie and di&s;ea&s;e in our affections, as cannot abide to be remoued, or el&s;e a &s;trange and greedy appetite to heare our &s;elues commended for what&s;oeuer we doe: or otherwi&s;e, a &s;uperabounding opinion, and &s;elfe-conceit of our owne abilities and parts, that we can doe nothing &s;o ill, we &s;hall not thinke commen|dable, and worthy of prai&s;e: and &s;o from all, or &s;ome of the&s;e, it comes to pa&s;&s;e, that wee de&s;pi&s;e friendly admonitions, and are &s;o &s;ubiect to the &s;nares of <HI>Flattery,</HI> by which our vices, if neuer &s;o notori|ous, be at the lea&s;t di&s;guized with
<PB N="451" REF="234"> the re&s;emblance of &s;ome vertues that be neere vnto them. Where|fore if we &s;top not the beginnings of this dangerous and vn&s;een mi&s;|chiefe, the poy&s;on will grow pa&s;t recouery, &amp; wholly bereaue vs of the true knowledge of our &s;elues. For it is not the pre&s;ent <HI>Flatterie</HI> that doth &s;o much hurt, as the re|liques and remaines of it in our minds; for though the <HI>Flatterer</HI> be gone, yet the infection &s;till conti|nues, as for in&s;tance, tho&s;e who heare Mu&s;ick, though that bee done, yet the harmony, &s;weetne&s;&s;e, and &s;ound, doth afterwards po&s;&s;e&s;&s;e &amp; make impre&s;&s;io~ in their minds: &s;o the&s;e kinde of prai&s;es remaine longer with vs, then the in&s;tant of hearing them. And as a &s;weet and plea&s;ing &s;ound is not ea&s;ily expel|led our fancies; and though wee
<PB N="452" REF="235"> chance &s;ometimes to forget it, yet it oftentimes returneth into our i|magination again: &s;o fareth it with the plea&s;ing di&s;cour&s;es of <HI>Flatte|rers.</HI> Therefore we &s;hould be deafe to their voices, &amp; auoid the~ at fir&s;t.</P>
<P>Yet this &s;eemes mo&s;t &s;trange to me, when I &s;ee men of apparant wi&s;edome, and great parts, &s;uch as are able to di&s;cerne and enquire of matters of the deepe&s;t co~&s;equence, to bee notwith&s;tanding &s;urprized by the cunning of the&s;e di&s;&s;em|blers: but certainly any man that thinks well; and loues to heare well of him&s;elfe, can hardly auoid this trap: for they that <HI>Flatter,</HI> will &s;hadow it vnder the colour of friend&s;hip; as in affabilitie, aduice, free di&s;cour&s;e, &s;eeming reprehen&s;i|on, officiou&s;ne&s;&s;e in our bu&s;ine&s;&s;e, conformitie of manners, and the
<PB N="453" REF="235"> like. All which, though in a true friend, they bee the very tokens of friend&s;hip, and loue; yet in a <HI>Flat|terer</HI> they haue onely the repre&s;en|tations of it, that thereby they may more cunningly and craftily de|ceiue &s;uch as they haue to do with|all. The rea&s;on now why this kind of <HI>Flatterie</HI> is &s;o dimme and vn|di&s;cernable, is becau&s;e that in eue|ry motion of the minde, it is &s;o clo&s;ely intermixed with friend|&s;hip, that it can hardly be di&s;coue|red from it, though if once vn|maskt, it hath no manner of affini|tie with it, nor comes neerer it, then as gla&s;&s;e which is dull and brittle, re&s;embles Chri&s;tall, which is &s;olid and tran&s;parent: &s;o this <HI>Flattery</HI> is onely the Ape of Friend&s;hip. Ther|fore the&s;e kinde of men bee farre more dangerous to tru&s;t, then pro|fe&s;t
<PB N="454" REF="236"> enemies, for from them men expect nothing but the fruits of malice &amp; ill will, while&s;t the other &s;ort, vnder pretence of loue and friend&s;hip, do &s;ooner &amp; more dan|gerou&s;ly worke the effect. And the difference of the da~ger, I put, as be|twixt tho&s;e that a&s;&s;ault vs prepared, and &s;uch as take vs vnprouided, or &s;trike when our backs be turned.</P>
<P>But &s;eeing from meane fortunes expectancies cannot be great, they are not much &s;ubiect to this kinde of battery; the &s;iege is laid to &s;uch as be men of great meanes &amp; place in the world, thence they hope for fortune, for credit, for preferment; and commonly men of this high ranke doe &s;eldome de&s;cend to the true knowledge of them&s;elues, that what&s;oeuer they do, it is in &s;uch an a&s;&s;ured &amp; imperious fa&s;hion, that it
<PB N="455" REF="236"> mu&s;t pa&s;&s;e vncontrouled, &amp; what|&s;oeuer they doe but thinke, or wi&s;h to do, mu&s;t be pre&s;ently put in act, and what&s;oeuer by them is perfor|med, &s;hall be &s;ure to finde whole vollies of prai&s;es; and that they doe &s;o certainly looke for, and thinke they de&s;erue, that it is dan|gerous for any, with &s;uch to ex|pre&s;&s;e the true parts of friends. And &s;o it comes to pa&s;&s;e, that all about them are profe&s;&s;ors of this my&s;te|ry: and to &s;ay truth, I &s;ee not how this fault, though v&s;ed, can be very much pre&s;&s;ed again&s;t &s;uch as bee followers of the&s;e men. For this kind of <HI>Flattery</HI> is not &s;o much af|fected, as forced: yet &s;urely an ho|ne&s;t mind would be loth to &s;ubiect it &s;elfe to &s;o ba&s;e a trade. And the&s;e great men that haue &s;o inured the~|&s;elues to to be plea&s;ed with the ap|plau&s;e
<PB N="456" REF="237"> of <HI>Flatterers</HI> in all their acti|though neuer &s;o bad, can hardly weane them&s;elues from that habit, cu&s;tome hath &s;o wrought it into them; and notwith&s;tanding &s;ome|times vpon better thoughts &amp; con|&s;iderations, they oppo&s;e them&s;elues again&s;t it, yet that hath not long co~|tinuance, but for the mo&s;t part it returnes againe with greater force. <HI>Vnde &s;aepe exclu&s;a, noui&s;sime recipitur.</HI> Wherfore the danger is the greater at the fir&s;t, to giue way to this hu|mour which is &s;o hardly repelled.</P>
<P>Now if the danger of this be &s;o great, and the auoiding of it &s;o ne|ce&s;&s;ary for all &s;orts of <HI>men,</HI> then no doubt, but <HI>women,</HI> as the weaker ve&s;&s;els, had need to be very careful, and circum&s;pect of giuing enter|tainment, or hearkening to any of this condition. For be&s;ides the ge|nerall
<PB N="457" REF="237"> danger, which is common to them with all others, more parti|cularly it doth often precipitate them into wor&s;e &s;traits. For there is not an ea&s;ier, or more ordinary way to corrupt &amp; &s;ubdue their af|fections, then by this meanes, with entertaining &amp; feeding them with the commendation of their per&s;on, beauty, behauiour, comline&s;&s;e, di&s;|cour&s;e, or the like; being generally of their own natural inclination, &s;o full of vanity, &amp; de&s;irous of prai&s;e.</P>
<P>That which I haue hitherto written of the danger of <HI>Flatte|rie,</HI> is, when it is &s;euerally applyed to particulars: there remaines one other &s;ort which I cannot omit, and that is the popular man, that in&s;inuates and windes him&s;elfe in|to the loue of the multitude, by plea&s;ing and pray&s;ing them in all
<PB N="458" REF="238"> their de&s;ires, and by application of him&s;elfe vnto their humours. The end of which ob&s;eruance mu&s;t needs bee, to &s;trengthen him&s;elfe in their good opinions; by that meanes hoping, that in any de|&s;igne of his again&s;t the Prince or State, they would &s;econd his at|tempts. This is the common end of affected Popularity, and that thou&s;ands of examples can iu&s;tifie. If there bee any other inducement, it mu&s;t bee referred to a vaine glo|ry. I will onely in&s;tance two or three examples of the dangerous effects of this popular <HI>Flatterie.</HI> The change of gouernment a|mong&s;t the <HI>Romanes</HI> proceeded from the fauour and grace that <HI>Cae&s;ar</HI> had obtained among&s;t the &s;oldiers; and &s;o the way was made plaine and ea&s;ie to him, for the &s;ub|uer&s;ion
<PB N="459" REF="238"> of that &s;tate, and making of him&s;elfe ab&s;olute <HI>Monarch.</HI> And &s;o in all, or mo&s;t of the chan|ges of the &s;ucceeding <HI>Emperaurs,</HI> popularity with the multitude was the way by which they entred. In our owne Stories, <HI>H. Bullinbrooke,</HI> whom <HI>Richard the &s;econd</HI> did well enough fore&s;ee, was cu~ning in the Art of winning the hearts of the people, and &s;o &s;ought meanes by his bani&s;hment to preuent the dan|ger; yet vpon his returne, hee was &s;o &s;trengthened by that meanes, that without all colour of right, he acquired the Kingdome, and a&s;&s;u|red it to him&s;elfe by the death of the former King. So now, this point I wil conclude with one Sto|ry of the Bible, and will onely re|late the words of the text. The way which <HI>Ab&s;olon</HI> propo&s;ed to him|&s;elfe
<PB N="460" REF="239"> in the trea&s;on again&s;t his fa|ther, was to make him&s;elfe popu|lar by flattering of the people. Marke but the Story, 2. <HI>Sam.</HI> 15. 2. 3, 4, 5, 6. 2. <HI>And</HI> Ab&s;olon <HI>ro&s;e vp early, and &s;tood hard by the entring in of the gate, and euery man that had a|ny matters, came to the King for iudg|ment: him did</HI> Ab&s;olon <HI>call vnto him and &s;ay, Of what City art thou? And he an&s;wered, Thy &s;eruant is of the tribes of I&s;rael.</HI> 3. <HI>Then</HI> Ab&s;olon <HI>&s;aid vnto him, See, thy matters are good and righteous, but there is no man deputed of the King to heare thee.</HI> 4. Ab&s;olon <HI>&s;aid moreouer, O that I were made Iudge in the Land, that euery man which hath any matter or controuer|&s;ie might come to me, that I might doe him Iu&s;tice.</HI> 5. <HI>And when any man came neere vnto him, and did him o|bey&s;ance, hee put forth his hand, and</HI>
<PB N="461" REF="239"> <HI>tooke him and ki&s;&s;ed him.</HI> 6. <HI>And in this manner did</HI> Ab&s;olon <HI>to all</HI> I&s;rael <HI>that came to the King for iudgement. So</HI> Ab&s;olon <HI>&s;tole the hearts of the men of</HI> I&s;rael. The &s;teps of this popu|lar <HI>Flattery</HI> (I thinke) cannot bee more punctually de&s;cribed then in this narratiue. You finde his dili|ge~ce, <HI>He ro&s;e vp early;</HI> his purpo&s;ed &s;hewing him&s;elfe to the multitude, <HI>He &s;tood hard by, &amp;c.</HI> his affability, <HI>And euery man that had;</HI> his finding fault with the pre&s;ent gouernment, <HI>Thy matters are good and righteous, but:</HI> a promi&s;ing of redre&s;&s;e, if power were transferred to him|&s;elfe, <HI>Oh that I were.</HI> A &s;hew of ex|traordinary re&s;pect and loue to the people, <HI>And when any man came neere.</HI> And this cour&s;e hee tooke, not with any particular; but ap|plyed him&s;elfe to all the people.
<PB N="462" REF="240"> <HI>And in this manner did Ab&s;olon to all I&s;rael.</HI> And &s;o it came to pa&s;&s;e, &s;aith the text, that, <HI>hee &s;tole the hearts of the men of I&s;rael.</HI> Thus hauing di&s;|cour&s;ed of the deformitie of this vice, &amp; dangerous con&s;equence of it both applyed to particulars, and to multitudes, I will de&s;cend from this point, and giue you &s;ome rules and directions how to auoid &s;o great a danger, &s;o dangerous an e|nemie.</P>
<P>Knowing the ill effects which proceed fro~ &s;o dangerous a cau&s;e, a man would thinke rea&s;on, &s;uffici|ent to auoid the occa&s;ions of being &s;urpri&s;ed with the fal&s;e and deceit|full baits of <HI>Flatterers;</HI> but experi|ence daily &s;hewes &s;o great a weak|ne&s;&s;e in our natures, that wee are apt to fall in loue with our pray&s;es, though farre from our merit, and
<PB N="463" REF="240"> giuen but for priuate re&s;pects. See|ing therefore, in this ca&s;e wee can|not be too &s;urely fortified, it will bee nece&s;&s;ary to adde &s;ome cauti|ons, to &s;trengthen our re&s;olutions in the auoiding of &s;o great a mi&s;|chiefe. And the fir&s;t mu&s;t be, not onely a profe&s;&s;ed, but an inward a|uer&s;ene&s;&s;e, from giuing encourage|ment to any to thinke they may any way po&s;&s;ibly euer hope to catch vs in this &s;nare. For if wee bee found to haue an open eare, the di&s;ea&s;e is &s;o catching that it wil be hardly auoided. There are few re&s;olutions &s;o con&s;tant, that can auoid the mi&s;chiefe, if they admit the di&s;cour&s;e of <HI>Flatterers.</HI> The fir&s;t temptations therefore mu&s;t be &s;uppre&s;&s;ed; which if we doe not in time, will &s;o encrea&s;e, that when we would we cannot. For if we be
<PB N="464" REF="241"> content to haue men thinke well of, and prai&s;e vs for tho&s;e things which in our owne co~&s;ciences we doe not de&s;erue, wee &s;hall in time bee &s;o be&s;otted, as to thinke our &s;elues worthy of tho&s;e pray&s;es, &s;o vniu&s;tly layd vpon vs by the&s;e im|po&s;tors, who as <HI>Salomon</HI> &s;aith, <HI>Pro. ch.</HI> 20. <HI>v.</HI> 19. <HI>Goe about</HI> as <HI>&s;lande|rers, and di&s;couer &s;ecrets; therefore meddle not with them that flatter with their lips.</HI> And this may be a &s;econd rea&s;on to auoid the in&s;inuation of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> in re&s;pect of the&s;e two abhorred crimes, of <HI>&s;tandering,</HI> and <HI>di&s;clo&s;ing of &s;ecrets.</HI></P>
<P>Againe, as their cunning, &s;o our care in auoiding them, &s;hould en|crea&s;e; for they bee come to that height and excellency in their pro|fe&s;&s;ion, that they will colour their <HI>Flattery</HI> with the &s;hew of <HI>Friend|&s;hip,</HI>
<PB N="465" REF="241"> v&s;urping the offices, behaui|our, nay euen carrying the name &amp; counterfet of amity &s;o artificially, in taking vpon them the highe&s;t part of friend&s;hip, w^c^h is free repre|hen&s;ion, that the &s;hadow is hard to be di&s;tingui&s;hed fro~ the &s;ub&s;tance. Their loue will &s;eem &s;o farre to ex|ceed, where in truth nothing is more co~trary vnto it, not iniury, not profe&s;&s;ed enmity, not detraction.</P>
<P>Seeing therefore the only comfort of &s;ociety, (w^c^h is in the a&s;&s;urance of true friends) is &s;o corrupted by the intru&s;ion of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> who would v&s;urpe a place in e&s;timatio~ &s;o high, de&s;eruing one &s;o low, concealing &s;o dangerous a poy&s;on vnder &s;o whol&s;ome an apparance, wee need di&s;cerning &s;pirits to exclude &s;uch fro~ our co~uer&s;ation, &amp; not to mea|&s;ure our vertues by mo&s;t voyces,
<PB N="466" REF="242"> but by mo&s;t de&s;ert. So pre&s;uming euery man to know his owne me|rit in tho&s;e things for which he is commended, we mu&s;t not e&s;teeme our happine&s;&s;e to con&s;i&s;t in ha|uing prai&s;es, but in de&s;eruing them.</P>
<P>But in the&s;e ca&s;es of per&s;wa&s;io~, ex|amples many times mouing more the~ precepts, it will not be ami&s;&s;e to view the care that men in former times haue had to repre&s;&s;e the en|crea&s;e &amp; ri&s;ing of <HI>Flatterers. Augu|&s;tus Cae&s;ar,</HI> &amp; <HI>Alexander Seuer&abus;</HI> are re|ported to haue been &s;o &s;trict again&s;t <HI>Flatterers,</HI> that if any did but extra|ordinarily bow him&s;elfe, or &s;hew but the lea&s;t &s;igne of <HI>Flattery</HI> to|wards the~, they were pre&s;e~tly bani|&s;hed &amp; expelled their Courts. The Emperour <HI>Sigi&s;mo~d</HI> perceiuing one to flatter him gro&s;sly, in &s;tead of re|ward, gaue him a blow. Why &s;trike
<PB N="467" REF="242"> you me, &s;aid he? Why bite you me? &s;aith the Emperor. There is a Story of a Nobleman of <HI>Mu&s;couia,</HI> who being impri&s;oned, &amp; de&s;irous of in|largeme~t, fained to dream, the K. of <HI>Pole</HI> was take~ pri&s;oner, &amp; brought captiue to the D. of <HI>Mo&s;couia.</HI> This dream was told the <HI>Duke,</HI> who per|ceiuing it to proceed fro~ an intentio~ to <HI>flatter,</HI> co~manded he &s;hould bee kept more clo&s;e, til he &s;aw the euent of his dream. <HI>Suetonius</HI> reports, that <HI>Caligula</HI> recalling one that was ba|ni&s;hed in the time of <HI>Tiberi&abus;,</HI> &amp; re|grating his liberty, asking him how he &s;pent all the time of his bani&s;h|ment; he an&s;wered, he did nothing but pray that <HI>Tiberi&abus;</HI> might dye, &amp; <HI>Caligula</HI> &s;ucceed: for w^c^h kind of de|uotion the Emperour co~manded hee &s;hould bee put to death. And after this &s;ort was the youngman
<PB N="468" REF="243"> puni&s;hed by <HI>Dauid,</HI> who hoping to plea&s;e him, brought newes of <HI>Saul</HI> and his childrens death.</P>
<P>So that the neere&s;t way to auoid &s;o bad companions, is &s;o to behaue our &s;elues, that it may appeare to the world how little wee de&s;ire, how much we &s;corne, what &s;mall confi|dence we put in the prai&s;es of <HI>Flat|terers.</HI> This cour&s;e <HI>Canutus,</HI> once a <HI>King</HI> of this <HI>Iland</HI> did take; who as <HI>Polidore Virgil</HI> recites, walking vp|on the &s;hore neere <HI>Southhampton,</HI> the &s;oldiers that were about him, did palpably, in magnifying, <HI>flatter</HI> him, calling him King of Kings, &amp; Commander both of Sea &amp; Land; whereat the King being amazed, he re&s;olued demo~&s;tratiuely to &s;hew how gro&s;&s;e their <HI>Flattery</HI> was, and how little hee was moued with it; for which purpo&s;e commanding
<PB N="469" REF="243"> him&s;elfe to bee &s;tript, &s;ate downe clo&s;e by the water, &s;eeming to &s;peak to the waues in this ma~ner: I com|mand you that you touch not &s;o much as my feet; they keeping their ordinary cour&s;e, beat vpo~ the &s;hore, and notwith&s;ta~ding his charge, vp|on him too: &s;o pre&s;ently retyring, he returned to his &s;oldiers, &amp; &s;aid; You called me King of Kings, and Lord of Sea &amp; Land, yet you &s;ee I could not command the&s;e waues from touching me: therefore learne, that the&s;e titles belong not to mortali|ty; but onely to him by whom all things are gouerned And this was his cou~terpoy&s;on to their <HI>Flattery,</HI> agreeing with the tran&s;lation of a ver&s;e of <HI>Homers,</HI></P>
<Q>Nullu~ ego &s;u~ numen, quid me immortalib&abus; aequas?</Q>
<P><HI>Alexander,</HI> who &s;omtimes was am|bitious to be thought the &s;onne &amp;
<PB N="470" REF="244"> heyre of <HI>Iupiter,</HI> and wanted not tho&s;e <HI>Flatterers</HI> that would indeed haue made him beleeue to haue been &s;o. A hurt brought him back to the knowledge of him&s;elfe, and fall into this &s;peech, <HI>Omnes iurant me e&s;&s;e</HI> Iouis <HI>Filium, &s;ed hoc vulnus me hominem e&s;&s;e clamat. Al&s;weare that I am the &s;on of</HI> Iupiter, <HI>yet this wound proclaimes me to be but a man.</HI> So ex|perience daily &s;hewes, that where they can get audience &amp; gain, they neuer care how ab&s;urd their prai&s;es be, laying mo&s;t co~mendations vp|on tho&s;e vices that de&s;erue greate&s;t reprehen&s;ion. If we run into ryot, they commend our temperance; when wee expre&s;&s;e our follie, they prai&s;e our wit: w^c^h if we did but wel ob&s;erue, how our vvor&s;t faults by them are applauded for principall vertues, our own co~&s;ciences would
<PB N="471" REF="244"> tell vs, they bee but Impo&s;tors and deceiuers, di&s;cerning with <HI>Seneca, Vos dicitis me e&s;&s;e prudentem, ego autem &s;cio quam multa inutilia con|cupi&s;cam, nocitura optem. You &s;ay I am wi&s;e, and yet I finde, that I haue many vnprofitable de&s;ires and hurt+full wi&s;hes.</HI> Which if wee bee as willing to practi&s;e, as capable to know, if our affections abound not aboue our rea&s;on, di&s;coue|ring their <HI>Flatterie</HI> for &s;uch things as wee merit not, wee &s;hould quickly abandon them our &s;o|cietie.</P>
<P>And hence it will fall into our con&s;ideration to ob&s;erue the cau&s;es and rea&s;ons for which wee bee prai&s;ed, whether they bee for &s;uch vertues wherein we haue a part or not, or whe|ther they honour vs for that wee
<PB N="472" REF="245"> doe not de&s;erue, for their owne profit: and this mu&s;t bee done by the true contemplation of our &s;elues; not &s;uffering our iudge|ments in our owne per&s;ons, to de|pend too re&s;olutely vpon the opi|nion of others; but without parti|ality look your &s;elfe in your owne gla&s;&s;e, and if you meete with any other that bee fal&s;e, or flatter you, tru&s;t them not, but let your owne con&s;cience be your owne pray&s;er, and be not &s;o &s;imple as to be car|ried away with things that be not, neither bee too peremptory in your owne iudgement; but take &s;o much as your con&s;cience a&s;|&s;ures you may bee iu&s;tly attri|buted, and no more; for as <HI>Se|neca</HI> &s;ayes, <HI>Si vera &s;unt coram mag|no te&s;te laudatus es, &s;i fal&s;a &s;ine te&s;te deri&s;us es.</HI></P>
<PB N="473" REF="245">
<P> The way then to prepare &amp; recti|fie our iudgements in the know|ledge of our &s;elues, is to loue, to de|&s;ire, to be plea&s;ed with the hearing of truth, though it &s;earch deep into our own wounds: and if we come once to endure &s;o &s;harp a corro&s;iue, it is certaine we &s;hall neuer be de|lighted with the prai&s;es of <HI>Flat|terers.</HI> But it will bee nece&s;&s;ary to fore&s;ee (which I haue enlarged be|fore) that a <HI>Flatterer</HI> creepe not in, in the habit of a friend, &amp; &s;omtimes take the liberty to finde fault with our errors, by that meanes to giue a better glo&s;&s;e to the in&s;inuation of their <HI>Flatterie:</HI> but the&s;e, if truely ob&s;erued, will bee found like fal&s;e gold, which onely hath the repre|&s;entation of true, and &s;uch as if throughly tryed, cannot po&s;&s;ibly a|bide the touch, notwith&s;tanding
<PB N="474" REF="246"> the ring of the piece be of the pu|re&s;t metall: but if it be not through|out good, the deceit is greater, then if it were plainely counterfet. Let vs count then of friends, as of the <HI>&s;alt</HI> commanded in the ancient <HI>&s;acrifi|ces;</HI> and of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> as of the <HI>hony</HI> forbidden in them: for the &s;alt of &s;ound and faithfull reprehen&s;i|on, is the true relli&s;h and be&s;t part of a friend, whereas &s;weet honyed <HI>Flatterie,</HI> though for the pre&s;ent plea&s;ing our fancies, yet is of a mo&s;t loath&s;ome and dangerous con&s;equence.</P>
<P>But a mayne impediment that blinds &amp; choakes our vnder&s;tand|ing, from receiuing any aduice and premonition that can be giuen a|gain&s;t the &s;ubtilties, and in&s;inuati|ons of <HI>Flatterers,</HI> is the too great confidence, and too permanent a&s;|&s;urance
<PB N="475" REF="246"> of the pro&s;peritie and con|tinuance of this tran&s;itory and va|ni&s;hing life. Thoughts &s;o low, &s;o &s;hort, be the grounds vpon which the&s;e men do lay their foundation. How can any man <HI>Flatter</HI> vs more extremely then we doe our &s;elues, relying on, and delighting onely in the plea&s;ures &amp; vanities of this pa&s;|&s;ing world? This Lethargy both Stories &amp; <HI>Scripture</HI> manife&s;t, to the ruin of multitudes, who liuing in al maner of &s;en&s;uality, yet di&s;cerned it not till all hope and remedy were pa&s;t, continuing the cour&s;e of their life in plea&s;ure and idlene&s;&s;e, neuer con&s;idering, how that in the mean time, their arraignment was a ma|king in heauen.</P>
<P>We need therefore to get the vic|tory ouer our &s;elues, and the Art of &s;ubduing our own affections; for
<PB N="476" REF="247"> otherwi&s;e this &s;elfe-louing inclina|tion wil &s;o &s;tirre, and moue our ap|petites, &amp; de&s;ires, to haue our iudge|ment concerning our &s;elues, &s;econ|ded by the applau&s;e of others, that it will be impo&s;&s;ible for vs to re&s;i&s;t their &s;nares, being &s;o de&s;irous of prai&s;es, and &s;o willing to receiue them; which is the only aduantage a <HI>Flatterer</HI> can get, when a man &s;triues to acquire reputation for tho&s;e vertues of w^c^h he neuer parti|cipated, &amp; is mo&s;t impatient to re|ceiue the lea&s;t checke for any vice, though knowing it to bee inhabi|tant within him; a kinde of fancy, which is mo&s;t certainely neither guided by iudgement, nor rea&s;on. And this is it w^c^h layes vs &s;o ope~, &amp; makes vs &s;o &s;ubiect to the practice of <HI>Flatterers;</HI> which if for any thing before &s;aid, we de&s;ire to auoid, that
<PB N="477" REF="247"> it &s;hould neither entrap nor endan|ger vs: let vs looke diligently into our &s;elues, &amp; make a true Charact|er of our own di&s;po&s;itions, not par|tially, but really: and then we &s;hall finde &s;o infinit a number of vani|ties, imperfections, &amp; faults, mixed in our words, deeds, and thoughts, that we cannot choo&s;e but &s;ee the fal&s;ity and deceit of &s;uch as haue prai&s;ed and flattered vs for tho&s;e vertues, wherein we haue had no manner of &s;hare. And &s;o leauing this part, I come to &s;ome differen|ces, and limitations, le&s;t in the ge|nerall inueighing again&s;t <HI>Flattery,</HI> it may &s;ometimes be mi&s;applyed.</P>
<P>A man is not bound to be &s;o cen|&s;orious a Criticke, as to take vpon him the di&s;ciplining of euery body for their errours &amp; imperfections. The error is in defending or prai|&s;ing,
<PB N="478" REF="248"> not in co~cealing them. A man may be too bu&s;ie, and where there is no obligation of duty, or re&s;pect, too narrow an Inqui&s;ition may be impertinent. If wee &s;mother the faults of tho&s;e that tru&s;t and rely vpon our aduice, that cannot be exempted from the imputation of <HI>Flattery;</HI> but to &s;uch as we be meere &s;trangers, &amp; tyed to in no manner of obligation, there as it is mo&s;t ba&s;e to prai&s;e their defects, &s;o it is not nece&s;&s;ary at all to finde fault with them.</P>
<P>Be&s;ides, in co~mon ciuility &amp; con|uer&s;ation, to men though knowne yet aboue, or equall with vs, to whom we haue no bond but ac|quaintance; as we do not co~mend, &s;o we are not bound to take notice of what we know of their errours. Far be it from vs to v&s;e any meanes
<PB N="479" REF="248"> to &s;ettle them: but on the other &s;ide to take vpon vs the a&s;&s;urance of re|mouing them, vpon the &s;trength of our oratory, and per&s;wa&s;ion, is ma|ny times too high a hope, and de|crea&s;eth friend&s;hip. Men loue not to haue their faults &s;een or known, and there is no ground of aduice or direction, when tho&s;e we con|uer&s;e withall, do &s;eeke to conceale their infirmities from vs.</P>
<P>Againe, &s;eeing prai&s;ing is the <HI>Flatterers</HI> weapon; it may be de|manded whether it bee vnpo&s;&s;ible to prai&s;e a man, without <HI>Flatte|ring</HI> him, as hauing a con&s;equence and dependancie the one of the o|ther? Without que&s;tion no. For if wee doe truely and moderately commend tho&s;e things in another which they iu&s;tly de&s;erue, that tends to their good, encouraging
<PB N="480" REF="249"> them in tho&s;e vertues for w^c^h they be commended, to the end they may encrea&s;e, and that others may be animated by their example, to the imitation of the like. This kind of prai&s;ing, without any priuat end or re&s;pect to our &s;elues, can in no &s;ence be termed <HI>Flattery,</HI> but <HI>Cha|ritie,</HI> which is the marke of true friend&s;hip, and not of fained loue.</P>
<P>There is now one que&s;tion to be re&s;olued, whether <HI>Flattery</HI> can bee reckoned in the number of &s;innes, or no. For if it be one, how comes S^t <HI>Paul</HI> to &s;ay, 1. <HI>Cor</HI> 10. 32. <HI>Giue no offence, &amp;c.</HI> 33. <HI>Euen as I plea&s;e all men in all things.</HI> Seeing that to plea&s;e all men in all things, cannot bee without <HI>Flattery;</HI> for &s;o our prai&s;ing, and plea&s;ing, may bee re|ferred to the Catalogue of our im|perfections. To this, I re&s;olue, that
<PB N="481" REF="249"> neither to prai&s;e, nor plea&s;e, in the~|&s;elues can be termed <HI>Flatterie,</HI> but may be made &s;o by their ends and circum&s;tances. And &s;o <HI>Paul</HI> in the end of the 33. <HI>ver.</HI> expounds him|&s;elfe, meaning that he would haue vs plea&s;e all men, &s;o as we &s;eeke not thereby our own glory, and profit, but the good of our neighbour. And &s;o neither plea&s;ing, nor prai|&s;ing can be called <HI>Flattery,</HI> more then the iu&s;t reprehen&s;ion of him that is faulty, can be called <HI>detracti|on.</HI> And now I am arriued at the la&s;t part of this di&s;cour&s;e, wherein I will lay down &s;ome di&s;tinct rules, and notes, wherby a <HI>Flatterer</HI> may be di&s;couered.</P>
<P>In &s;uch a man you &s;hall alwayes &s;ee a &s;trife &amp; ambitio~, to &s;teale into the affection of tho&s;e they depend vpon, with more then an ordinary
<PB N="482" REF="250"> pace, too a&s;&s;iduous care, and &s;eruile ob&s;eruation, by all meanes, ende|uouring not onely to get the &s;tart, but to keepe others backe in the good opinion of tho&s;e they follow, by diligence on their parts, and lay|ing imputations vpon others, &s;o en|gro&s;&s;ing their affections; that wil|lingly they will &s;uffer none el&s;e to be inward, or about them, but &s;uch as fight vnder their banner, and be of their own &s;tamp. And then as a &s;hadow continually follows a man where&s;oeuer he goeth: &s;o they will imitate and affect what&s;oeuer it be that their patrons apply them&s;elues vnto; and there is no vice in them, which from the&s;e, will not haue their colour, approbation, and al|lurement.</P>
<P>And the principall part they act, is either to further ill actions, or &s;o
<PB N="483" REF="250"> to conceale them, as a man &s;hal not &s;ee his own imperfections. <HI>Arro|gance,</HI> and <HI>Pride,</HI> they &s;eek to incor|porate in our affections: they will &s;weare we be the men of only emi|nency and marke; That tho&s;e to whom we &s;hew fauour, &amp; re&s;pect, are &s;ufficiently honoured, and &s;o prai&s;e vs to a kinde of dotage, that we thinke all tho&s;e who doe not e|qually ob&s;erue, and commend our &s;uppo&s;ed abilities, neglect it out of ignorance, or enuy; whereas the <HI>Flatterer</HI> yeelds to, &amp; approues of all his actions, though &s;uch as in his own con&s;cience and beliefe be manife&s;tly worthy of reproofe and &s;corne.</P>
<P>Then if you mark the per&s;ons to whom their prai&s;es be applyed, you &s;hall &s;eldome heare them giue a good word of any man, but before
<PB N="484" REF="251"> his face, except it bee to &s;uch by whom he thinks his prai&s;es may be related, and that is his cunning; o|therwi&s;e &s;landering &amp; backbiting is as common a trade of a <HI>Flatte|rer,</HI> as commending of one in his pre&s;ence. For in detracting from o|thers, they either hope to plea&s;e tho&s;e they now apply them&s;elues vnto, or el&s;e take occa&s;ion compa|ratiuely by ca&s;ting a&s;per&s;ions vpo~ them, to magnifie the contrary ver|tues of tho&s;e they be withall: but whether de&s;eruedly, or no, that with them is not materiall.</P>
<P>Againe, you &s;hall find that tho&s;e actions which they &s;eeme &s;o much to approue, and commend in vs, their owne iudgement and vnder|&s;tanding will not allow of: for if a &s;tranger, or a man, whom they pur|po&s;e not to ob&s;erue, &s;hall by way
<PB N="485" REF="251"> of argument, fall into di&s;cour&s;e of &s;uch &amp; &s;uch vicious actions, as they haue formerly allowed, in the per|&s;on of their Patron, their rea&s;on wil force them to di&s;auow and di&s;like them, except they imagine, this di&s;|cour&s;e is vpon de&s;igne to conuince them of <HI>Flattery.</HI></P>
<P>And but ob&s;erue whether tho&s;e prai&s;es they be&s;tow vpon you for any action, they onely giue to you, and no other; or to you, and all others; and you &s;hall general|ly finde, that their prai&s;es goe not according to the merit of the action, but affection of the par|tie: for tho&s;e things they do now commend you for, they will im|mediately di&s;co~mend in another, and tho&s;e things they commend in another, they will as quickly di&s;|like in you.</P>
<PB N="486" REF="252">
<P> Be&s;ides, you may note that how|&s;oeuer our actions and affections doe vary and alter, yet their prai|&s;es be con&s;tant, and their opinions will &s;eeme to be the &s;ame, though in contrarieties, which is a kinde of <HI>Paradox;</HI> for let vs but now &s;ay or doe one thing, wee &s;hall haue their <HI>Plaudites</HI> for it: &s;ome di&s;tance af|ter, if our opinions, and actions chance to change to the contrary, they alter not their prai&s;es, they be &s;till the &s;ame they were before, they lye as the winde goes; if you change into formes neuer &s;o con|trary, they doe &s;o too. For there is no vniforme equalitie in all their actions, and intentions, becau&s;e they haue no permanent place, or per&s;on, to apply them to. Their o|pinions can in no kinde be &s;ettled, becau&s;e they haue wholly giuen
<PB N="487" REF="252"> ouer them&s;elues to content and plea&s;e others, and the cour&s;e of their life is vncertaine, being neuer like them&s;elues, but changeable, and varying from one forme to another.</P>
<P>And if a man would but examine the beauty and deformitie of his actions, by the rule of his own con|&s;cience, he &s;hall finde tho&s;e things, for w^c^h many times hee is &s;o high|ly commended, to be naught, and of dangerous example; and &s;uch vices, as notwith&s;tanding their co~|mendations, his owne con&s;cience hath often accu&s;ed him of, and ma|ny times he hath been a&s;hamed of.</P>
<P>Now tho&s;e that be diligent ob|&s;eruers, are to be di&s;couered al&s;o by their incon&s;tancie: for allow them now the followers of one that is great in fortune, and place, if they
<PB N="488" REF="253"> chance to decline; and peraduen|ture by the plot and malice of an enemie, or competitor, their &s;er|uice fals off too, their expectancies being fru&s;trated, and are of a con|dition &s;o ba&s;e, as to apply them|&s;elues to the ouerthrower of him they haue haue beene &s;o much bou~d vnto; &amp; peraduenture them|&s;elues too haue been in&s;truments of his de&s;truction. But with their new ma&s;ter, what&s;oeuer he likes, or di&s;|likes; approues, or di&s;auowes; loues, or hates, they are of the &s;ame mind that they &s;eemed to be w^t^h the for|mer, &amp; in a maner do like the <HI>Ora|tor,</HI> who among&s;t many other flat|tering &s;peeches, to <HI>Augu&s;t&abus;,</HI> &s;aid that they, who called him <HI>Cae&s;ar,</HI> knew not his <HI>greatne&s;&s;e;</HI> and they that called him not <HI>Cae&s;ar,</HI> were igno|rant of his <HI>humanitie.</HI></P>
<PB N="489" REF="253">
<P> Al&s;o in publike a&s;&s;emblies, as <HI>Parlaments</HI> and the like, &s;ome of this &s;ort doe often crowd in, the gro&s;ne&s;&s;e of who&s;e ob&s;eruance cannot po&s;&s;ibly be concealed; for you &s;hall neuer heare them, but you may &s;ee a farre off, their aime is for priuate re&s;pects, not publike good; either through <HI>Flattery</HI> or <HI>feare</HI> of &s;ome per&s;on there pre&s;ent, whom they wi&s;h may alwaies &s;peake before them, that they may bee &s;ure not to differ from his o|pinion, and what&s;oeuer it be, good or bad, it is by them &s;ure to be &s;e|conded. And if &s;peaking before, a|ny thing hath chanced to &s;lip from them that they &s;ee is di&s;liked, they then fall to &s;hifts and excu&s;es, to purge them&s;elues, by interpreting their words; or if that wil not &s;erue, acknowledging their ignorance,
<PB N="490" REF="254"> and altered iudgement vpon bet|ter information, and &s;o their note is quite changed; but the&s;e &s;orts of <HI>Flattery</HI> being plaine and palpable, ea&s;ie to be found out, and &s;o auoy|ded, are the le&s;&s;e dangerous; for plainly to affirme, or denie as ano|ther doth the &s;ame, the gro&s;sne&s;&s;e of that <HI>Flattery</HI> is ea&s;ily di&s;cerned; whereas they that are more cun|ning in their trade, are hardly vi&s;i|ble, if not vn-vizarded, which is my now endeuour to doe.</P>
<P>You &s;hall finde &s;ome to <HI>flatter,</HI> when they &s;eeme to reproue, and <HI>flatter</HI> mo&s;t, when they &s;hew to be mo&s;t oppo&s;ite again&s;t it. Of this &s;ort of <HI>Flatterers</HI> was <HI>Agis Argiuus,</HI> who &s;eeing <HI>Alexander</HI> liberall in gifts and rewards to a certaine ri|diculous fellow, murmured that <HI>Alexander</HI> would &s;hew &s;uch boun|tie
<PB N="491" REF="254"> to &s;o vnworthy a fellow. <HI>Alex|ander</HI> hearing him mutter, asked him what he &s;aid. Indeed, &s;aith he, I mu&s;t confe&s;&s;e that I cannot with patience endure to &s;ee, that all you that are de&s;cended from <HI>Iupiter,</HI> &s;hould be &s;o delighted and plea&s;ed with <HI>Flatterers.</HI> For as <HI>Iupiter</HI> kept <HI>Vulcan</HI> for his mirth, and <HI>Bacchus</HI> tooke great delight in <HI>Sylenus:</HI> &s;o &s;uch as the&s;e, be of account and e|&s;timation with you. <HI>Tacitus</HI> al&s;o re|cites an example, though &s;omwhat more gro&s;&s;e, that may bee referred to this &s;ort of <HI>Flatterers.</HI> When the Emperour <HI>Tiberius</HI> was in the <HI>Se|nate,</HI> one ro&s;e vp and &s;aid, It was fit that euery man &s;hould &s;peak freely, and in matters belonging to the Common-wealth, no man ought to hold his peace: <HI>Tiberius</HI> and all the <HI>Senate</HI> were in expectation
<PB N="492" REF="255"> what &s;o bold a preamble would produce, and then with the Pro|uerbe, <HI>Parturiunt montes, na&s;cetur ridiculus mus,</HI> &s;aith he, <HI>Cae&s;ar,</HI> there is a fault wee all blame you for, though none dare take the hard|nes to tell you of it, you &s;pend your &s;elfe too much in caring for vs, wearing your body both day and night in labours for the <HI>Republike,</HI> not valuing your owne &s;afety and health, in regard of our happine&s;&s;e and pro&s;perity. This kinde of <HI>Flat|tery</HI> that goes in the habit of frank|ne&s;&s;e and libertie of &s;peech, is ve|ry ob&s;cure. And if this, which ought to bee a remedie, proue the way and meanes more colou|rably to <HI>flatter,</HI> without good cau|tion and ob&s;eruation, we &s;hal hard|ly di&s;couer their ayme.</P>
<P>Some againe not vnlike the&s;e
<PB N="493" REF="255"> will, by another way of repre|hen&s;ion, lay the ground for their <HI>Flattery;</HI> as if by chance they &s;pye in vs any &s;mall and petty er|rors, they will declaime with ve|hemencie and earne&s;tne&s;&s;e again&s;t them; &s;o that their encourage|ment to, or conniuencie at our great and mon&s;trous deficien|cies, by this their &s;eeming &s;eue|rity, may in a manner bee ec|clip&s;ed. Which kinde of cunning, as <HI>Plutarch</HI> notes, may be com|pared to <HI>Hercules</HI> his club in a play, that &s;eemes weighty, though in|deed light, and filled with wooll or feathers. So this reprehen|ding libertie, which a <HI>Flatterer</HI> v&s;eth, will vpon examination be found weake, and of &s;mall force to giue a blow. For in&s;tance, if your clothes bee not of the new
<PB N="494" REF="256"> fa&s;hion, your beard not of the late edition, your hat not of the la&s;t block or the like; from hence, for the&s;e they will take occa&s;ion with a kinde of &s;eueritie to cen&s;ure and correct you. But admit you &s;hould de&s;pi&s;e your parents, abu&s;e your wife, neglect your children, &s;corne your kindred, con&s;ume your e&s;tate, or fall into numbers of notorious vices, the&s;e they will neither moue nor &s;tirre, the&s;e they will neither take knowledge of, nor regard.</P>
<P>Others &s;omtimes you &s;hall note, the better to di&s;gui&s;e their <HI>Flattery,</HI> will, by reprouing of men for con|trarie vices, confirme tho&s;e they haue. As if a couetous man once in his life &s;hew a little liberality, or if you wil, inclining to prodigality, (for the Prouerb &s;aith, Who&s;e fea&s;t is &s;o great as a mizers?) they will
<PB N="495" REF="256"> vpon this &s;ingle occa&s;ion, &s;eem out of their loue to be much grieued at the va&s;tne&s;&s;e of his expence, and carele&s;ne&s;&s;e of his &s;tate. And if an enuious &s;landerer, that neuer loued to &s;peake well of any body, by chance bee &s;o conuinced by ano|they mans merit, that hee &s;peake a few words in his commendation, they wil pre&s;ently impute this for a fault, and an argument of facilitie, for commending of one rather out of ea&s;ine&s;&s;e, then de&s;ert. And after this manner, tho&s;e vicious affecti|ons which wee haue inhabitant in vs, they doe &s;eeke to confirme, and &s;ettle for euer remouing, not by ap|prouing their vices, or alone repro|uing the contrarie; but &s;ometimes al&s;o by di&s;commending the con|trarie vertues: as calling zeale, hy|pocri&s;ie; liberality; prodigalitie;
<PB N="496" REF="257"> par&s;imonie, couetou&s;ne&s;&s;e; and &s;o forward: v&s;ing the &s;ame Art to|wards the maintaining of any vice that they thinke a man hath a minde to.</P>
<P>If they happen to meet with one that &s;u&s;pects all prai&s;es that be for|ced or thru&s;t vpon him, &s;uch a one they will not commend as from them&s;elues, but inuent &s;ome good reports they heard of him abroad, and expre&s;&s;e how glad they were to heare &s;o well; heerein imitating the <HI>Rethoricians,</HI> who often in their Orations v&s;e the third per|&s;on for the fir&s;t. Or, on the con|trary, accu&s;e him of &s;ome ill they haue heard layd to his charge, which hee knowing to bee vntrue, and &s;o denying, they will finde matter to fall into a laudatory of his abilities, by &s;hewing how in|nocent
<PB N="497" REF="257"> he was of tho&s;e vices that the world had taxed him withall. And if the&s;e wayes &s;erue not to make him thinke too well of him|&s;elfe, they will not in words com|mend, but in a &s;ilent kinde of ap|prouing and good opinion of his parts, will expre&s;&s;e it by &s;eeking his opinion, or relying and tru&s;ting to his iudgement and di&s;cretion in &s;ome things that may concerne them&s;elues; which when deliue|red, they will &s;eeme to admire, and preferre before any opinion or Coun&s;ell they haue receiued from any other bodie. But if a man could &s;u&s;pect this before-hand, giue them but &s;ome ab&s;urd Coun|&s;ell, and &s;o you &s;hall di&s;couer them. For they are prepared to commend it what&s;oeuer it be. Seeing then by this before, that the colours of <PB N="498" REF="258"> Friend&s;hip and <HI>Flattery</HI> be &s;o like, and hardly di&s;cerned; I will in the la&s;t place &s;hew &s;ome maine diffe|rences betwixt them both, and &s;o conclude.</P>
<P>A friend will neuer be employ|ed in ill, or di&s;hone&s;t actions: but in &s;uch as may turne to the good and profit of him he loues, none is more willing then hee: where, on the contrarie, a <HI>Flatterer</HI> &s;eekes to gaine our good opinion, by being employed in actions of the wor&s;t &s;ort, and mo&s;t dangerous con&s;e|quence, in re&s;pect of our good ei|ther fortune, or name; not caring for the euent, &s;o they may rai&s;e them&s;elues by our ruine, louing our meate and meanes more then they doe our &s;elues, continuing friends vnto vs, no longer then our pur&s;e per&s;wades them therevnto.
<PB N="499" REF="258"> And whereas a true friend imitates our actions in nothing but that which is good; the <HI>Flatterer,</HI> like a <HI>Camelion,</HI> that turnes him&s;elfe into all colours but white, can frame him&s;elfe to any likene&s;&s;e but good; ordering all his actions, not to the good of his friend, but his owne priuate re&s;pect, and turnes all to his owne particular benefit; whereas Friend&s;hip &s;eekes not &s;o much the good of it &s;elfe.</P>
<P>A Friend reproues his friends vices, and commends his vertues rather to another, then him&s;elfe; whereas on the contrary, a <HI>Flatte|rer</HI> alwayes pray&s;es him in &s;ight, as well for his vices as vertues, and behinde his backe, is as liberall in blaming and defamation of him; &s;aying, that hee po&s;&s;e&s;&s;eth him wholly, gouernes him at his plea|&s;ure,
<PB N="500" REF="259"> and makes him doe what hee li&s;t. So, whereas a true friend pre|&s;erues the good name and fortune of him he loues, the <HI>Flatterer</HI> pre|cipitates him to all manner of dan|ger and ruine.</P>
<P>A Friend is alwaies con&s;tant and &s;ettled in his opinions; the iudge|ment of a <HI>Flatterer</HI> being diuers, like waxe, or a looking-gla&s;&s;e, re|ceiuing different formes, prai&s;ing or di&s;pray&s;ing, euer applying him|&s;elfe to the minde and inclination of him that hee <HI>flattereth,</HI> vexing him&s;elfe too violently in what&s;oe|uer he doth, in the knowledge and view of him that he ob&s;erues; con|tinuall in pray&s;es and offering of &s;eruice. <HI>Non imitatur amicitiam, &s;ed praeterit,</HI> hauing no moderation in his outward actions, and con|trarily no inward affection, which
<PB N="501" REF="259"> is a condition quite different from the nature of a friend.</P>
<P>A friend will neuer commend and approue any actions of ours that be vicious, but friendly and freely di&s;&s;wade vs fro~ them, where|as the <HI>Flatterer</HI> doth alwayes giue the victory, applauding what&s;oe|uer we do, ayming no further then to plea&s;e; whereas a true friend doth not re&s;pect &s;o much how hee may plea&s;e, as profit.</P>
<P>A Friend endeuours alwayes to procure in vs a loue of tho&s;e things that be rea&s;onable and hone&s;t: a <HI>Flatterer</HI> rather de&s;ires to confirme vs in libertie and plea&s;ure. And where all men haue the&s;e two de|&s;ires within them, the one giuen to vertue and goodne&s;&s;e, the other to licentiou&s;ne&s;&s;e and pa&s;&s;ion: the true friend alwaies a&s;&s;i&s;ts the better part,
<PB N="502" REF="260"> in giuing coun&s;ell, and comfort; and the <HI>Flatterer</HI> applyes him&s;elfe to the other, which is voyd of rea|&s;on, and full of pa&s;&s;ion; &s;o feeding our affections by deui&s;ing of &s;ome vicious and di&s;hone&s;t plea&s;ure, that they quite diuert vs from the rule of rea&s;on; like &s;ome kinde of meat, that neither breeds good bloud, nor engenders &s;pirits, nor ads vi|gor or &s;trength, but onely breeds fogs and rotten humours that bee neither fa&s;t, nor &s;ound: &s;o, if a man looke narrowly into a <HI>Flatterer,</HI> all the good he &s;hall finde to come from him, is onely the encrea&s;ing and &s;ettling of our wor&s;t and ba|&s;e&s;t affections, wherevnto we &s;eem to haue but the lea&s;t inclination.</P>
<P>So that, as it is plaine, a true friend alwayes re&s;pects the good of another, more (which is the
<PB N="503" REF="260"> ground of his loue) then any par|ticular purpo&s;e or de&s;igne for his owne aduantage; on the contrary, the ends of a <HI>Flatterer</HI> bee Antipo|des to the de&s;ires of a Friend, who will no le&s;&s;e bee willing to partici|pate of his calamity, then pro&s;pe|rity; whereas the other doth ob|&s;erue and follow him onely in his pro&s;pering euill. By which you &s;ee, it cannot po&s;&s;ibly &s;tand toge|ther, for one man to bee both a Friend, and a <HI>Flatterer,</HI> which is as much as if I &s;hould &s;ay, a Friend, and no Friend: or rather an ene|mie then a Friend.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="half title">
<PB REF="261">
<PB REF="261">
<P>A DISCOVRSE OF LAVVES.</P>
</DIV1>
<DIV1 TYPE="discourse">
<PB REF="262">
<PB N="505" REF="262">
<HEAD><HI>A</HI> DISCOVRSE OF LAVVES.</HEAD>
<P>_THe nature of all &s;orts of <HI>Lawes,</HI> whether they concerne <HI>God,</HI> and <HI>Religion,</HI> and &s;o haue reference to <HI>di|uine Lawes,</HI> or whether they con|cerne <HI>&s;ocietie,</HI> and <HI>conuer&s;ation,</HI> and &s;o be meerely <HI>Humane,</HI> is properly this, to be the &s;traight and perfect rule, by application wherevnto, <HI>right</HI> and <HI>wrong</HI> are di&s;cerned, and di&s;tingni&s;hed one from another:
<PB N="506" REF="263"> and the knowledge, and practice of them, bring a double benefit, ei|ther <HI>Publike,</HI> which is the generall good, &amp; gouernment of the <HI>State;</HI> or <HI>Priuate,</HI> which con&s;i&s;ts in the quiet, and peaceable life of euery one in particular. So the true end of all <HI>Lawes</HI> is to ordaine, and &s;ettle an order, &amp; gouernment among&s;t vs, the Iuri&s;diction whereof we are rather bound to obey, then di&s;pute; <HI>Lawes</HI> being, as it were, the Princes we ought to &s;erue, the Captaines we are to follow, the very rules, by which all the actions of our life be &s;quared and di&s;po&s;ed. They are the peoples bulwarks, and defences, to keep them in &s;afety, and peace, that no <HI>vniu&s;t thing</HI> bee done again&s;t them; that by the <HI>Lawes</HI> men may be made <HI>good,</HI> and <HI>happy;</HI> and that the puni&s;hme~t of offenders &s;hould
<PB N="507" REF="263"> appeare to proceed from a nece&s;&s;i|tie forced, rather then a will volun|tarie, and that by the example of puni&s;hing &s;ome, others might bee made the better; that by the feare, and terrour of them, mens audaci|ties might be repre&s;&s;ed, and their innocencie, &amp; peace, &s;ecured from force and oppre&s;&s;ion.</P>
<P>If men were not limited within certaine rules, &s;uch confu&s;ion would follow in gouernment, that the differences of Right &amp; wrong, Iu&s;t and vnlawfull, could neuer be di&s;tingui&s;hed; and that would cau&s;e &s;uch di&s;traction in the peo|ple, &amp; giue &s;o great an ouerthrow to conuer&s;ation, and commerce a|mong&s;t men, that all right would be peruerted by power, and all ho|ne&s;tie &s;wayed by greatne&s;&s;e: &s;o that the equall admini&s;tration of
<PB N="508" REF="264"> <HI>Iu&s;tice,</HI> is the true knot that binds vs to vnity and peace among&s;t our &s;elues, and di&s;per&s;eth all &s;uch vio|lent and vnlawfull cour&s;es, as o|therwi&s;e libertie would in&s;inuate, pre&s;eruing euery man in his right, and preuenting others, who if they thought their actions might pa&s;&s;e with impunitie, would not mea|&s;ure their cour&s;es, by the rule of <HI>Aequum</HI> and <HI>Iu&s;tum,</HI> but by the &s;quare of their owne benefit, and affections: &amp; &s;o not being circum|&s;cribed within rea&s;onable bounds, their rea&s;on becomes inui&s;ible; whereas when they finde that Iu|&s;tice hath a Predominant power, they are deterred from proceeding in tho&s;e acts, that otherwi&s;e their owne wils, and inclination would giue them leaue to effect.</P>
<P><HI>Plato</HI> affirmes the nece&s;&s;itie of
<PB N="509" REF="264"> Lawes to be &s;o great and ab&s;olute, that men otherwi&s;e could not bee di&s;tingui&s;hed from vnrea&s;onable creatures: for no man naturally is of &s;o great capacitie, as completely to know all the nece&s;&s;ities, and ac|cidents, which bee required for a common good: and then if a man could &s;uppo&s;e in any &s;o perfect a knowledge, yet is that ma~ not to be found, that either ab&s;olutely could, or would doe all that good which he knowes: &s;o that in an <HI>Vtopia</HI> of &s;uch men as be not, yet the nece&s;&s;ity of lawes are ab&s;olute. But where mens affections and manners are depraued, and giuen ouer to vnru|ly and vnrea&s;onable de&s;ires, there <HI>Lawes</HI> be &s;o nece&s;&s;arie; that <HI>Hera|clitus</HI> &s;aid, A Citie needed rather to defend their <HI>Lawes,</HI> then <HI>Forts:</HI> for without <HI>Lawes</HI> no people can &s;ub|&s;i&s;t;
<PB N="510" REF="265"> without defences, it is po&s;&s;ible that they may: agreeing with <HI>De|mo&s;thenes</HI> ob&s;eruation, who &s;uppo|&s;ed <HI>Lawes</HI> to bee as the &s;oule of a Commonwealth; for as a bodie without a &s;oule, remaines not; &s;o a People without due admini&s;trati|on of <HI>Lawes,</HI> doe wholly decline: but take people, as they are com|monly mixt of the good, and wor|&s;er &s;ort, nay rather, more of the bad, then better compo&s;ition, yet it wil euidently appeare, that Lawes are &s;o ab&s;olutely nece&s;&s;ary, to re|&s;traine from ill, to confirme in good, to make a happy concord, and vnion in our ciuill conuer&s;ati|on, to make &s;uch a di&s;tinction be|twixt lawfull, and exorbitant de|&s;ires, as vnlawfull affections may not be coloured with good appa|rances; that it can not be denyed,
<PB N="511" REF="265"> that <HI>Lawes</HI> bee the onely &s;inewes of contracting people together, and not meerely v&s;efull, but ne|ce&s;&s;arie.</P>
<P>But in the exerci&s;e, and executi|on of <HI>Lawes,</HI> &s;uch moderation is euer to be held, that it may appeare rather to to be v&s;ed, as a preuenting Phy&s;icke, by way of example to warne others, that they fall not in|to the like danger, then out of a de&s;ire to afflict, or make mi&s;erable any priuate per&s;on: and therefore the conclu&s;ion of <HI>Tacitus</HI> is very ob&s;eruable, <HI>Pauca admodum vi tractata, quo caeteris quies e&s;&s;et; In &s;ome few matters &s;eueritie was v&s;ed, by that meanes to cau&s;e quietne&s;&s;e in the re&s;t.</HI> So that it is nece&s;&s;ary in e|uery Commonwealth to cut off offenders, as well for pre&s;ent &s;afe|ty, as preuention of further mi&s;|chiefe,
<PB N="512" REF="266"> which wil be plain, if we wil but ob&s;erue the benefits that fol|low, and inconueniences that ari&s;e, if this exemplary Iu&s;tice bee not executed.</P>
<P>Fir&s;t, when any fact is vn|lawfully committed, there is no other &s;atisfaction left to the world, or the partie offended, then the pu|ni&s;hment of the offender; vvhich if it bee not executed, Iniu&s;tice vvere as vvell offered to the Pub|like State; as to the priuate per&s;on of him who hath &s;uffred the iniury.</P>
<P>Next, as it incourageth ho|ne&s;t men in their iu&s;t and law|full actions; &s;o it abates the in&s;o|lency of others, who bee onely bridled with the feare of puni&s;h|ment; for otherwi&s;e the vvor&s;t men by wickede&s;t cour&s;es, were mo&s;t likely to make great fortunes,
<PB N="513" REF="266"> and to carry the greate&s;t &s;way; w^c^h vvould &s;o di&s;courage men hone&s;t|ly di&s;po&s;ed, that they would nei|ther haue will, nor power, nor con|fidence, to labour for the publike.</P>
<P>Thirdly, it bani&s;heth all pre|&s;umption from &s;uch as thinke, that their reputation &amp; wealth, Riches, or Offices, can pre&s;&s;e down Iu&s;tice, or make it encline to their purpo&s;es: for if the&s;e re&s;pects &s;hould preuaile, iudgement were meerely inuerted, and would not looke vpon the cau&s;e, but the Bribe; the right, but the power; the truth, but the great|ne&s;&s;e of the greater Aduer&s;ary.</P>
<P>Again, it addes confidence to the poorer &s;ort, whe~ they &s;ee that equi|ty, &amp; not fauour, procures the &s;en|tence, and &s;o by this means are con|&s;erued fro~ oppre&s;&s;io~. And if it were not for this, in what a mi&s;erable
<PB N="514" REF="267"> ca&s;e were the&s;e lower degrees of me~ &s;ubiect to be trod vnder feet by their imperious Aduer&s;ary, &amp; then to haue no means left for redre&s;&s;e.</P>
<P>Fiftly; it is the greate&s;t honor, and reputation, a Kingdom, or co~mon|wealth can be ambitious of, &amp; en|ioy, to haue Iu&s;tice iu&s;tly di&s;tribu|ted, and people obedient to <HI>Lawes;</HI> Iu&s;tice guarding the people, by cor|recting &amp; cutting off &s;uch as giue ill example to the re&s;t. And in what Commonwealth &s;oeuer this is neg|lected, it breeds co~fu&s;ion among&s;t the~&s;elues, giues aduantage to their enemies, &amp; cau&s;eth their di&s;reputa|tion to &s;pread through the world.</P>
<P>Next to the honor of a <HI>Kingdome,</HI> it is the &s;afety of the <HI>King,</HI> who be|ing reputed to be as the fountain of <HI>ju&s;tice,</HI> &s;o <HI>Iu&s;tice</HI> keeps the fountaine free from <HI>corruption, infection,</HI> or
<PB N="515" REF="267"> <HI>danger,</HI> pre&s;cribing rules for feare it corrupt, a&s;cribing Antidotes for feare of infection, &amp; pre&s;eruing his per&s;on, &amp; reputation both fro~ &s;en|&s;ible, &amp; in&s;en&s;itiue danger: wheras if <HI>Lawes</HI> bee neglected, his <HI>per&s;on</HI> is more &s;ubiect to the attempts of <HI>Traitors,</HI> his life to the tongues of malice and detraction, &amp; his repu|tation to perpetuall infamy.</P>
<P>And la&s;tly, this is it, that enriches and &s;ecures the &s;ubiect in all King|domes, giues him his right, protects him from wrong, increa&s;eth com|merce, and proclaimes traffique throughout all the world: whereas if Iu&s;tice were not duely admini|&s;tred, there would follow a dimi|nution of our &s;ub&s;tances, a generall di&s;con&s;olatio~ in our life, &amp; a certain &s;eparation fro~ all trade with &s;tran|gers. And mark but narrowly, and
<PB N="516" REF="268" MS="y"> you &s;hall &s;eldom find that <HI>God</HI> euer ble&s;&s;ed that Cou~try, where Iu&s;tice was either neglected, or abu&s;ed.</P>
<P>Tho&s;e therfore (if any &s;uch in&s;en|&s;ible creatures be) that di&s;like there|&s;traint, &amp; &s;triue, &amp; declaime again&s;t obedience to <HI>Lawes</HI> (which may be truely termed the wals of gouern|ment, &amp; nations) they make them|&s;elues &s;o co~temptible, as no obiecti|on of theirs can be worthy the an|&s;wering: for a generall di&s;&s;olution of Lawes in a ciuill body, is the &s;ame with the conuul&s;ion of the &s;innewes in a naturall; decayes, and di&s;&s;olution, being the immediate, and vnauoidable &s;ucceeders. And yet a man had better choo&s;e to liue where no thing, then where all things be lawfull: which is the rea|&s;on why all men haue thought it more dangerous, to liue in an <HI>Anar|chy,</HI>
<PB N="517" REF="268" MS="y"> then vnder a <HI>Tyrants</HI> gouern|ment: for the violent de&s;ires of one, mu&s;t nece&s;&s;arily bee tyed to particulars, in a multitude they are indefinite.</P>
<P>The fir&s;t degree of goodnes is o|bedience to <HI>Lawes,</HI> w^c^h be nothing el&s;e but vertue, and good order of life, reduced vnto certain rules: and as rea&s;on hath the predominant power in our naturall bodies, &s;o the body Politick ca~not &s;ub&s;i&s;t w^t^h out &s;oule to inanimate, to gouerne, to guide it, &amp; that is <HI>Law,</HI> proceeding from the rea&s;on, coun&s;els, &amp; iudge|me~t of wi&s;e men. For where <HI>Lawes</HI> be wanting, there neither <HI>Religion,</HI> nor <HI>life,</HI> nor <HI>&s;ocietie</HI> can be maintai|ned. There be three branches that mens Lawes do &s;pread them&s;elues into, euery one &s;tricter then other. <HI>The Law of Nature,</HI> w^c^h we enioy in
<PB N="518" REF="269"> common with al other liuing crea|tures. The <HI>Law of Nations,</HI> which is common to all men in generall: &amp; the <HI>Municipall Law</HI> of euery Na|tion, which is peculiar and proper to this or that Country, and ours to vs as Engli&s;hmen.</P>
<P>That of <HI>Nature,</HI> which is the ground or foundation of the re&s;t, produceth &s;uch actions amo~g&s;t vs, as are co~mon to euery liuing crea|ture, and not only incident to men: as for example, the commixture of &s;euerall &s;exes, which we call <HI>Mar|riage,</HI> generation, education, &amp; the like; the&s;e actions belong to all li|uing creatures, as well as to vs. The <HI>Lawes of Nations</HI> bee tho&s;e rules which rea&s;on hath pre&s;cribed to all men in generall, &amp; &s;uch as all Na|tions one with another doe allow and ob&s;erue for iu&s;t. And la&s;tly, the
<PB N="519" REF="269"> <HI>Peculiar Lawes</HI> of euery Country, w^c^h mixe with the generall <HI>Lawes</HI> of all places, &s;ome particular ones of their own: &amp; this is that which the <HI>Romanes</HI> called among&s;t the~&s;elues, the <HI>Ciuill Law</HI> of their <HI>City,</HI> and is in|deed in euery <HI>Nation:</HI> the <HI>Municipall Lawes</HI> of that Country, as it were <HI>Lawes</HI> onely created for tho&s;e Cli|mates, for tho&s;e e&s;tates.</P>
<P>Take away the power of <HI>Lawes,</HI> and who is it that can &s;ay, This is my Hou&s;e, or my Land, or my mo|ney, or my goods, or call any thing that is his, his owne. Therfore eue|ry mans &s;tate and fortune is more &s;trengthened and confirmed by <HI>Lawes,</HI> then by any will or power in tho&s;e from whom wee receiue them; for what&s;oeuer is left vnto vs by the <HI>Te&s;tament</HI> of another, it is impo&s;&s;ible we &s;hould euer keepe it
<PB N="520" REF="270"> as our own, if <HI>Law</HI> re&s;trained not o|thers claimes, &amp; confirmed the~ not vnto vs. In which re&s;pect, <HI>Lawes</HI> be the &s;tronge&s;t &s;inewes of humane &s;ocietie, helps for &s;uch as may be o|uerborne, and bridles to them that would oppre&s;&s;e. So that we receiue much more benefit from <HI>Lawes</HI> in this kinde, then from <HI>Nature;</HI> for whereas men be naturally affected and po&s;&s;e&s;&s;ed with a violent heate of de&s;ires, and pa&s;&s;ions, and fancies, <HI>Lawes</HI> re&s;train &amp; draw them from tho&s;e actions, and thoughts, that would precipitate to all manner of hazzards and ill, which naturall inclination is prone enough vnto; and do gouern, direct, alter, di&s;po&s;e, &amp; as it were bend them to all man|ner of vertuous &amp; good actions.</P>
<P>Wherfore <HI>Lawes</HI> be the true <HI>Phy|&s;icions</HI> and pre&s;eruers of our peace|able
<PB N="521" REF="270"> life, &amp; ciuill conuer&s;ation, pre|uenting tho&s;e il accidents that may happen, purging and taking away &s;uch as haue broken forth, &amp; &s;ow|ing peace, plenty, wealth, &s;trength, and all manner of pro&s;perity a|mong&s;t men. And for tho&s;e things that be ill, but yet introduced by cu&s;tome, &s;euere and iu&s;t <HI>Lawes</HI> will readily correct; for the force and power of <HI>Law</HI> doth ea&s;ily di&s;&s;olue an ill cu&s;tome, though it haue been of long continuance: the excel|lency and prai&s;e of which <HI>Lawes</HI> can neuer be better illu&s;trated, then in that &s;aying of <HI>Salomon: Manda|tum lucerna e&s;t; lex, lux, &amp; via vitae, increpatio di&s;ciplinae. The com|mandement is a lampe; and the law is light; and reproofes of in&s;truction, are the way of life.</HI></P>
<P>The di&s;pen&s;ers and interpreters
<PB N="522" REF="271"> of the <HI>Law,</HI> be the <HI>Magi&s;trates</HI> and <HI>Iudges,</HI> and all &s;orts and degrees of men what&s;oeuer, be tyed &amp; bound to the ob&s;eruance of the &s;ame. To this purpo&s;e, <HI>Solon</HI> being dema~ded, What <HI>City</HI> was be&s;t gouerned? an|&s;wered, <HI>That, wherein the City obeyed the Magi&s;trate, and the Magi&s;trate the Lawes:</HI> and certainly that go|uernment is better, which v&s;eth &s;et and firme <HI>Lawes,</HI> though not all of the be&s;t &s;ort, then that where the <HI>Lawes</HI> bee mo&s;t perfect and exact, and yet not ob&s;erued. <HI>Lawes</HI> there|fore ought to be the rulers of men, and not men the ma&s;ters of <HI>Lawes.</HI></P>
<P>There is no doubt but that <HI>Lawes</HI> were at the fir&s;t inuented, as well to giue rules to the good, that they might know how to liue peacea|bly &amp; regularly one with another, as to repre&s;&s;e the audacity of tho&s;e
<PB N="523" REF="271"> vnbridled &s;pirits, who, in de&s;pight of di&s;cipline and rea&s;on, doe thru&s;t them&s;elues into all kinds of out|rage and di&s;order; from which bad cau&s;e notwith&s;tanding, according to the old rule, a good effect is pro|duced: <HI>Ex malis moribus, bonae leges oriuntur.</HI> But the particular intro|ducements of <HI>Lawes,</HI> ari&s;e either from a pre&s;&s;ing nece&s;sity, or a fore|&s;eeing and proui&s;ionall carefulnes of tho&s;e that make them; the&s;e pro|ceed from prouidence, the other from &s;ome &s;ence of euill. The im|pul&s;iue cau&s;es in the making of proui&s;ionall <HI>Lawes,</HI> are either loue of their Cou~try, or de&s;ire of glory, or affectation of popularity, or &s;omtimes particular intere&s;t, and priuat re&s;pect; for it often happens, that a priuate good may haue con|nexion with the publike. And the
<PB N="524" REF="272"> &s;ence of ill, decaying either by the encrea&s;e of it, or a &s;eeming to bee de&s;titute of remedy, is the cau&s;e, that where <HI>Lawes</HI> are once forced, out of the &s;en&s;e of mi&s;chiefe, &amp; in|conuenience, they be for the mo&s;t part grieuous and immoderate; as on the other &s;ide, &s;uch as rea&s;on &amp; prouidence do produce, are many times more &s;pecious then v&s;efull. In the fir&s;t, take away the &s;pur and &s;en&s;e of ill, and it makes men in the con&s;titution of <HI>Lawes,</HI> to bee care|le&s;&s;e and vnwary; and in the other, if there bee not continued a &s;trong and con&s;tant affection, they com|monly faint in the execution of them.</P>
<P>But in the meane time there is no doubt, that there are certaine fountaines of <HI>naturall Iu&s;tice and e|quity,</HI> out of which hath beene ta|ken
<PB N="525" REF="272"> &amp; deriued that infinite variety of <HI>Lawes,</HI> which &s;euerall people haue apted to them&s;elues: and as &s;euerall veines and currents of water, haue &s;euerall qualities and ta&s;ts, in re&s;pect of the nature of that ground and &s;oyle, thorow which they flow and run: &s;o the&s;e <HI>Lawes</HI> and the vertue of them, which bee fetched fro~ an originall fountaine, receiue a new kinde of application, and tincture, in re&s;pect of the &s;ci|tuation of the Country, the <HI>genius</HI> and nature of the people, the fa&s;hi|on and forme of publike actions, diuers accidents of the time, and &s;undry other occurrences, I will not &s;tand to repeat. And in the ma|king of <HI>Lawes,</HI> wi&s;e men haue al|wayes had the&s;e things in con&s;ide|ration. Fir&s;t, the <HI>Common-good,</HI> and benefit, for w^c^h they intend them,
<PB N="526" REF="273"> and that requires that they &s;hould be both <HI>iu&s;t</HI> and <HI>profitable:</HI> now no <HI>law</HI> can bee <HI>profitable,</HI> nor yet iu&s;t; w^c^h is made for priuat &amp; particular re&s;pects, &amp; not for the publik good.</P>
<P N="2">2. The <HI>per&s;ons</HI> to whom they be to be applyed; that for the executio~, &amp; application of them, they be &s;uch as may be po&s;&s;ible to be ob&s;erued, &amp; apt for the cu&s;toms, places, &amp; time, where, &amp; when they be to be v&s;ed.</P>
<P N="3">3. <HI>The pre&s;ent cour&s;e of the State;</HI> what Lawes there haue beene v&s;u|ally receiued, by what &s;peciall ones it hath beene con&s;erued, and by what new ones it may be a&s;&s;ured: for one kinde of <HI>care</HI> is not fit for all places, and Countreys.</P>
<P>But <HI>Lawes,</HI> when they are once made, ought very rarely to be cha~|ged: to w^c^h purpo&s;e the ancient po|&s;ition of wi&s;e men is not vnworthy
<PB N="527" REF="273"> the ob&s;eruing, <HI>that nothing is to bee changed in the Lawes of a Common|wealth, which hath a long time by the&s;e Lawes pre&s;erued it &s;elf in good &s;tate &amp; gouerment:</HI> &amp; as <HI>I&s;iodor'</HI> wel noteth, after a Law is once made, <HI>we ought not to iudge of it, but according to it.</HI> And yet in the&s;e two ca&s;es the alte|ration of <HI>Lawes</HI> may turne to the better. 1. When by the changing of it the <HI>Law</HI> is made more perfect, more cleere, more po&s;itiue, more profitable. 2. When the condition of &s;ubiects &amp; gouernment is chan|ged, there of nece&s;&s;ity the <HI>Law</HI> mu&s;t vary, according to the difference &amp; diuer&s;ity of the times and per&s;ons: for change &amp; variatio~ of <HI>Lawes,</HI> are either by occa&s;ion of entertaining forraigne cu&s;tomes, or &s;ome inter|nall deficiences, or exce&s;&s;es, accor|ding to the alteration of time. One
<PB N="528" REF="274"> of the&s;e is &s;o far from innouation, that it is altogether nece&s;&s;ary: but that is not introducing of <HI>Lawes</HI> by way of imitation of other people; it argues a de&s;ire of change, rather then any cau&s;e that is ma|teriall. But on the other &s;ide, old and ancient cu&s;tomes, in re&s;pect of their very antiquity, doe induce a kinde of har&s;hne&s;&s;e, and breed &s;aci|ety; for the wilfull retaining of a cu&s;tome again&s;t the pre&s;ent rea&s;on of the time, is altogether vnequall.</P>
<P>This is to be vnder&s;tood of <HI>tem|porary Lawes,</HI> made and applyed to new and &s;euerall accidents. For the fundamentall lawes, vpon which the fabricke of a common-wealth and people be grounded and built, they in no ca&s;e will admit innoua|tion; neither are the other &s;ort to bee lightly altered, but where the
<PB N="529" REF="274"> pre&s;ent cu&s;tome of the time finde them impertinent, and the State thinks them vnv&s;eful. To illu&s;trate, in the &s;ame times, &s;ometimes we &s;ee <HI>Lawes</HI> mutable, &amp; fit to be &s;o: &s;uch as are made in time of warre, peace doth extingui&s;h, and &s;o on the con|trary; agreeing with <HI>Liuie</HI> &s;peaking to this purpo&s;e: <HI>Quae in pace latae &s;unt, plerunque bellum abrogat; quae in bello, pax; vt in nauis admini&s;tra|tione, alia in &s;ecunda, alia in aduer&s;a, tempe&s;tate v&s;ui &s;unt.</HI> And although change of <HI>Lawes</HI> be &s;ometimes ne|ce&s;&s;ary, it ought notwith&s;tanding to bee done with a great deale of caution: but yet it mu&s;t be confe&s;|&s;ed, that time, of all things is the greate&s;t innouator, and therefore wilfully to pre&s;cribe the continu|ance of an old <HI>Law,</HI> in re&s;pect of antiquity, the face of the world
<PB N="530" REF="275"> and affaires being changed, is in|deed an introduceme~t of nouelty; for the pre&s;&s;ure of the v&s;e of it, vr|ging and &s;etting it only forth with the grace of antiquity, if notwith|&s;tanding it bee oppo&s;ite or incon|gruous to the pre&s;ent times &amp; go|uernment, makes that old <HI>Law,</HI> if practi&s;ed, to fall, and bee con|uerted into a new and vnrea&s;ona|ble cu&s;tome.</P>
<P>Now for my iudgement con|cerning the v&s;e of <HI>Lawes,</HI> I thinke this, that as the v&s;e of much <HI>Phy|&s;icke</HI> and diuers Phy&s;icions, argue the aboundance of humours, and di&s;ea&s;es; &s;o the multiplicity &amp; num|ber of <HI>Lawes,</HI> be manife&s;t &s;ignes of a di&s;ea&s;ed &amp; di&s;tempered <HI>Common|wealth.</HI> And therefore to follow the &s;imilitude, as in <HI>di&s;ea&s;es</HI> new expe|riments be dangerous, where tho&s;e
<PB N="531" REF="275"> that be ancient and approued may &s;erue; &s;o new <HI>Lawes</HI> bee needle&s;&s;e, when the maladies of the Repub|lique may be cured by the old: for it is a thing both vnequall and vn|iu&s;t to in&s;nare the people with mul|titude of <HI>Lawes.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Law</HI> and <HI>Rea&s;on</HI> are twinnes, the ab&s;ence of one, is the deformity of the other; being in a kinde <HI>conuer|tibilia,</HI> and in&s;eparable. That com|mon rea&s;on we haue ingrafted in|our natures, is a <HI>Law,</HI> directing what we are to doe, forbidding the contrary, according to <HI>Cicero: Ea|dem ratio cum e&s;t in hominis mente confirmata, &amp; confecta, lex e&s;t.</HI> For <HI>Law</HI> is nothing but <HI>rea&s;on</HI> dilated and applyed vpon &s;euerall occa&s;i|ons and accidents, the comprehen|&s;ion of <HI>rea&s;on</HI> and <HI>Law,</HI> as of pub|like enormities, and nece&s;&s;ities, for
<PB N="532" REF="276"> which they be &s;euerally, at &s;euerall times made, being infinite. The di&s;ea&s;e commonly in our know|ledge, hauing the prioritie of the remedy. And thus the reuerence, and duty wee owe to <HI>Lawes,</HI> is no|thing el&s;e but obedience to rea&s;on, which is the begetter, correcter, and pre&s;eruer, of the very <HI>Lawes</HI> them&s;elues: tho&s;e therefore who will not obey them, do come more neere the nature of <HI>Brutes</HI> and <HI>Sal|uages,</HI> then men indued with rea|&s;on: but I goe on.</P>
<P>If a rea&s;on be demanded why all Countreys doe differ, and vary &s;o much in their cu&s;tomes, and <HI>Lawes,</HI> I an&s;were, that it proceeds from the cu&s;tome of the fir&s;t inhabitants. As we may &s;ee where there are &s;eueral plantations by one people, they &s;e|uerally giue different orders, &amp; cu|&s;tomes,
<PB N="533" REF="276"> according to the intent and purpo&s;e of the fir&s;t Planters, and according to the nece&s;&s;itie, and end of the pre&s;ent Plantation, as may bee ob&s;erued in the different Con&s;titutions, &amp; <HI>Lawes,</HI> in our two late Plantations, of <HI>Virginia,</HI> &amp; the <HI>Bermuda's.</HI> And though, I confe&s;&s;e, that the&s;e originall cu&s;tomes, may in time bee altered, vpon &s;euerall occa&s;ions, diuers changes of go|uernment, as in the <HI>Roman</HI> State, or vpon conque&s;t, as with vs; yet I doubt not, but that &s;ome reliques of the old cu&s;tomes would remain to perpetuitie, if a people be not wholly extirpate. I &s;hould now punctually &s;earch the &s;euerall Au|thors, and Inuenters of <HI>Lawes,</HI> a|mong&s;t different Nations, toge|ther with their diuers oppo&s;itions, and emulations, one with another,
<PB N="534" REF="277"> but that would bee too long, and vncertaine: I will therefore onely in a word touch the originall, and growth of <HI>Law</HI> among&s;t the <HI>Ro|manes,</HI> as being more certainely knowne, and of larger extent.</P>
<P>You mu&s;t vnder&s;tand that at the fir&s;t they had no other &s;et <HI>Law,</HI> then the will, &amp; co~mandements of their <HI>Princes.</HI> That gouernment being changed, and &s;o their con&s;titutions extinct, the people were the~ gouer|ned by precedent, &amp; cu&s;tome, with|out any direct, &amp; written <HI>Law;</HI> but that continued not many yeeres. Then the <HI>law</HI> of the 12. Tables &s;uc|ceeded, w^c^h the <HI>Romans,</HI> in re&s;pect of their own defects, had borrow|ed from the <HI>Grecians:</HI> &amp; the&s;e, as in <HI>Lawes</HI> it commonly happens, being &s;ubiect to di&s;pute, were forced to be reconciled, and decided, by the
<PB N="535" REF="277"> authority, and arguments of the mo&s;t great, graue, &amp; learned men, which afterwards being collected, &amp; gathered together, became a kind of volume, &amp; body of <HI>Law,</HI> and &s;o afterwards, before the Common|wealth was &s;ubuerted, receiued by diuers men, in &s;undry ages, &s;euerall additions: but after the gouernme~t was <HI>Monarchical,</HI> the pre&s;ent Empe|rors did adde to the old, or confirm or aboli&s;h them, according to their own will, and power. And all toge|ther is that which is commonly knowne by the name of the ciuill <HI>Law;</HI> &amp; becau&s;e it continues to be the mo&s;t practical, &amp; generally re|ceiued <HI>Law</HI> of the world, and that though all Countreys haue Muni|cipall <HI>Lawes</HI> of their owne, yet this <HI>Law</HI> in euery place carries &s;ome &s;way, and authority, in &s;ome places
<PB N="536" REF="278"> more, and in &s;ome le&s;&s;e, and that an a&s;per&s;ion is ca&s;t vpo~ the ground, &amp; foundation of our <HI>Lawes,</HI> in being different &amp; contrary to the original beginning of the ciuill <HI>Law,</HI> I will briefely parralel them together; wherin if any do not find &s;o punc|tuall an agreement as hee expects, let him remember that the nature of a co~pari&s;on, implyes but a &s;imi|litude, and affinity of one thing to another, and not a totall and ab&s;o|lute agreement.</P>
<P>The <HI>Law</HI> which the <HI>Romans</HI> v&s;ed, and &s;o we, is either <HI>written,</HI> or <HI>not written.</HI> Tho&s;e that were <HI>written,</HI> &s;aith <HI>Iu&s;tinian,</HI> were of the&s;e kinds. 1. <HI>Lex,</HI> and that is &s;uch a Law as was made by the people, but fir&s;t propounded by the Senat. Such are tho&s;e Lawes with vs, as are confir|med by the lower Hou&s;e of <HI>Parlia|ment,</HI>
<PB N="537" REF="278"> &amp; propounded by the higher. 2. <HI>Plebi&s;citum,</HI> and &s;uch were the <HI>Lawes</HI> made by the whole people (the order of <HI>Patritians</HI> excepted) &amp; offered to their co~&s;ideration by the Tribune; like tho&s;e <HI>Lawes</HI> that be approued by the Co~mons in our <HI>Parliament,</HI> and propounded by the <HI>Speaker.</HI> 3. <HI>Senatus con&s;ultu,</HI> &amp; tho&s;e were &s;uch <HI>Lawes</HI> as were ordained by the power and authoritie of the <HI>Senat,</HI> to w^c^h we may re&s;emble the con&s;ultations &amp; directions of the Kings Councell, and the Decrees of the Star-chamber. 4. <HI>Principum Placita,</HI> which were Con&s;titutions appointed by the Soueraign power of the Prince; &s;ome of them being per&s;onall, &amp; not exemplary; others more publike; of which kinde with vs be al the <HI>Kings Edicts,</HI> &amp; <HI>Procla|mations,</HI> of what kind &s;oeuer. 5. <HI>Ma|gi&s;tratuum</HI>
<PB N="538" REF="279"> <HI>Edicta,</HI> as the co~mande|ments of the <HI>Generals</HI> in the Field, <HI>Gouernors</HI> of Prouinces, and the prime Magi&s;trates in great Cities: like as with vs is that power which is deputed to the <HI>Deputy</HI> of <HI>Ireland,</HI> the <HI>Pre&s;idents</HI> of <HI>York,</HI> &amp; <HI>Wales,</HI> the <HI>Lieutenants</HI> of euery <HI>Shire,</HI> and the Iuri&s;diction of <HI>Magi&s;trates,</HI> accord|ing to their particular cu&s;tomes, priuiledges, and immunities, in the great Cities, &amp; Corporations of this Kingdom. And la&s;tly, <HI>Re&s;pon&s;a Pru|dentu~,</HI> which were the Iudgements and opinions of &s;uch as were ap|pointed to be <HI>Iudges,</HI> and expoun|ders of the <HI>Law:</HI> and iu&s;t of that kinde bee the re&s;olutions of our <HI>Iudges,</HI> which in writing bee deli|uered vnto vs, by the name of <HI>Re|ports,</HI> and <HI>Ca&s;es.</HI></P>
<P><HI>Lawes vnwritten</HI> (among&s;t the <HI>Ro|mans,</HI>
<PB N="539" REF="279"> were &s;uch as <HI>cu&s;tome</HI> had in|troduced, &amp; yet neuer &s;uffred con|tradiction by a Po&s;itiue <HI>Law.</HI> Such <HI>Traditions</HI> as they had receiued touching the ancient manner, and forme of gouernment of their An|ce&s;tors, in precedent times; and of this nature with vs is our common Lavv, grounded much vpo~ cu&s;tom.</P>
<P>And the rea&s;on why the&s;e anci|ent cu&s;tomes may bee collected to be of &s;o great force, is, becau&s;e al|wayes before their approbation it is to be conceiued, that they had pa&s;&s;ed al cen&s;ures for nece&s;&s;ary, and to be without offence: and &s;o ha|uing receiued this facile approba|tion, are allowed, and mo&s;t religi|ou&s;ly kept; for <HI>Lawes</HI> of the grea|te&s;t weight, &amp; con&s;equence, which occa&s;ioned <HI>Cicero</HI> to write <HI>ante &s;u|am memoriam, &amp; morem ip&s;um pa|trium,</HI>
<PB N="540" REF="280"> <HI>prae&s;tantes viros adhibui&s;&s;e, &amp; veteru~ morem, ac maiorum in&s;tituta, excellentes viros retinui&s;&s;e.</HI> And beleeuing <HI>Diony&s;ius</HI> te&s;timonie, <HI>Romulus</HI> in the fir&s;t foundation of the Republique, did thinke to &s;trengthen, and confirme it more, with <HI>Lawes vnwritten,</HI> then <HI>writ|ten;</HI> peraduenture beeing of the &s;ame opinion <HI>Demo&s;thenes</HI> notes of <HI>Licurgus,</HI> who would not write his <HI>Lawes,</HI> but to haue them more publike, and better knowne, would leaue them onely ingrauen in the memory of his Citizens.</P>
<P>But more preci&s;ely to di&s;tin|gui&s;h betwixt <HI>Law</HI> and <HI>Custome,</HI> that the tearmes, as well as matter, may be vnder&s;tood, you mu&s;t vn|der&s;tand, that where any forme, or <HI>Law,</HI> hath had any long continu|ance in practice, without any
<PB N="541" REF="280"> knowne Author, it then receiues the name of an ancient cu&s;tome, or <HI>mos Maiorum:</HI> which though in name, and Title it differ from a <HI>Law,</HI> yet in power, and autho|ritie, it is the &s;ame: which <HI>Vl|pian</HI> confirmed when hee &s;aid, <HI>Diuturnam con&s;uetudinem, pro Iu|re, ac Lege, in jis quae non ex &s;cripto de&s;cendunt, ob&s;eruari &s;olere.</HI> And there is great rea&s;on for it, becau&s;e <HI>Lawes</HI> are in e&s;teeme, and authoritie with vs, for no other rea&s;on, but in re&s;pect they haue had the reputation to bee allowed, and made by the Iudgement of the people. Then full as meritoriou&s;ly doe tho&s;e Lawes de&s;erue e&s;teeme, which all men haue approoued for nece&s;&s;arie, without any pre|&s;cript, or rule; and this is the rea&s;on which makes our <HI>common Law</HI> o|riginally
<PB N="542" REF="281"> grounded vpon ancient cu&s;tomes, of equall power and authoritie with our Statutes.</P>
<TRAILER>FINIS.</TRAILER>
<PB REF="281">
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