Sect. 1.

WHen I had studiously red ouer the morall wri­tings of some wise Hea­then,Censure of Philosophers. especially those of the Stoicall profession, I must confesse I found a little enuie and pitie stri­uing [Page 2] together within me: I enuied nature in them, to see her so witty in deuising such plausi­ble refuges for doubting and troubled mindes: I pitied them to see that their carefull disquisiti­on of true rest, led them in the end but to meere vnquietnesse: VVhere­in mee thought, they were as hounds swift of foote, but not exquisite in sent, which in an ha­sty pursute take a wrong waie, spending their mouthes, and courses in vaine. Their praise of gessing wittily they shall [Page 3] not leese, their hopes both they lost, and who­soeuer followes them. If Seneca could haue had grace to his wit, what wonders would he haue done in this kind? what Diuine might not haue yeelded him the chayre for precepts of Trāquil­litie without any dispa­ragement? As he was, this he hath gained. Ne­uer any Heathen wrote more diuinely, neuer a­ny Philosopher more probably. Neither would I euer desire better Ma­ster if to this purpose I needed no other mistres [Page 4] then nature. But this in truth is a taske, which nature hath neuer with­out presumption vnder­taken, and neuer perfor­med without much im­perfection. Like to those vaine and wandring Em­piricks which in Tables and pictures make great ostētatiō of cures, neuer approouing their skill to their credulous patients. And if she could haue truely effected it alone. I know not what em­ployment in this life she should haue left for grace to busie her selfe about, nor what priui­ledge [Page 5] it should haue beene here below to be a Christian, since this that we seeke is the noblest worke of the soule, and in which alone consists the only Heauen of this world; this is the summe of all humane desires, which when we haue attained, then onely we begin to liue, and are sure we cannot thence forth liue miserably. No mar­uell then if al the heathen haue diligently sought after it, many wrot of it, none attained it. Not A­thens must teach this lesson, but Ierusalem.

Sect. 2.

YET something Grace scorneth not to learne of Nature,What Tranquillitie is, & wherein it consists. as Moses may take good counsell of a Midianite. Nature hath euer had more skill in the end, then in the way to it, and whether she haue discoursed of the good estate of the mind, which we call Tranquil­litie or the best which is happinesse hath more happely gessed at the ge­nerall definition of them then of the meanes to [Page 7] compasse them. She teacheth vs therefore without controlement, that the Tranquillitie of the mind is, as of the Sea and weather, when no winde stirreth, when the waues doe not tumultu­ously rise and fall vpon each other, but when the face both of the Heauen and waters is still, faire, and equable. That it is such an euen disposition of the hart, wherein the scoales of the mind nei­ther rise vp towards the boame, through their owne lightnesse, or the ouer-weening opinion [Page 8] of prosperity, nor are too much depressed with a­ny loade of sorrow; but hanging equall and vn­mooued betwixt both; giue a man libertie in all occurrences to enioy himselfe. Not that the most temperate minde can be so the maister of his Passions, as not som­times to ouer-ioy his griefe, or ouer-grieue his ioy, according to the contrary occasions of both, for not the euenest weights, but at their first putting into the balance somewhat sway both parts thereof, not with­out [Page 9] some shew of ine­qualitie, which yet after some little motion, settle themselues in a meete poyse. It is enough that after some sudden agi­tation, it can returne to it selfe, and rest it selfe at last in a resolued peace. And this due composed­nesse of minde we re­quire vnto our Trāquil­litie, not for some short fits of good moode, which soone after ende in discontentment, but with the condition of perpetuitie. For there is no hart makes so rough weather, as not some­times [Page 10] to admitte of a calme, and whether for that he knoweth no pre­sent cause of his trouble, or for that he knoweth that cause of trouble is countervayled with as great an occasion of pri­uate ioy, or for that the multitude of euils hath bred carelessenesse, the man that is most disor­dered finds some respits of quietnesse. The balances that are most ill matched in their vnsted­die motions come to an equalitie, but stay not at it. The franticke man cannot auoide the impu­tatiō [Page 11] of madnes, though he be sober for many moones, if he rage in one. So then the calme minde must be setled in an habitual rest, not then firme when there is no­thing to shake it, but then least shaken when it is most assayled.

Sect. 3.

WHence easily appears how vainly it hath beene sought either in such a constant estate of out­ward thinges,Insufficiency of humane precepts. as shoulde geue no distast vnto the minde, whiles all earthly thinges varie with the [Page 12] weather, & haue no stay but in vncertaintie, or in the naturall temper of the soule, so ordered by humaine wisdome, as that it should not be affe­cted with anie casuall euentes to either part; since that cannot euer by naturall power be held like to it selfe; but one while is cherefull, stir­rīg, & redy to vndertake; anotherwhile drousie, dull, comfortlesse, prone to rest, wearie of it selfe, loathing his own purpo­ses, his own resolutions. In both which, since the wisest philosophers haue [Page 13] grounded al the rules of their tranquillitie, it is plaine that they saw it a farre off, as they did hea­uen it selfe with a desire and admiratiō, but knew not the way to it: Wher­upon alas, how sleight & impotent are the reme­dies they prescribe for vnquietnes. For what is it that for the inconstan­cie and lazinesse of the minde still displeasing it selfe in what it doth,Senecaes rules of Tranquil­lity abrid­ged and for that distemper there­of which ariseth frō the fearefull, vnthriuing, and restlesse desires of it, wee should euer be imploy­ing [Page 14] our selues in some publike affaires, choo­sing our businesse ac­cording to our inclina­tion, and prosecuting what we haue chosen? wherewith being at last cloied we should retire our selues and we are the rest of our time in priuat studies; that wee should make due comparatiue trials of our own ability; nature of our businesses; disposition of our chosē freends? that in respect of Patrimonie we should be but carelesly affected, so drawing it in as it may be least for show, most [Page 15] for vse; remouing all pompe, bridling our hopes, cutting off super­fluities for crosses, to cō sider that custome will abate and mitigate them that the best thinges are but chaynes & burdens to those that haue them to those that vse thē, that the worst thinges haue some mixture of cōforte to those that grone vn­der them. Or leauing these lower rudimentes that are geuen to weake and simple nouices to examine those golden rules of mortality, which are commended to the [Page 16] most wise & able practitioners, what is it to ac­coūt himselfe as a tenant at will? To fore-imagine the worst in al casual matters? To auoyde all idle & impertinent businesses all pragmaticall medling with affairs of state? not so to fix our selues vpō a­ny one estate as to be im­patiēt of a change, to call backe the mind frō out­ward things, and draw it home into it self? to laugh at & esteeme lightlie of others misdemeanours? Not to depend vpon o­thers opiniōs but to stād on our own bottoms? to [Page 17] carry our selues in an ho­nest and simple truth, free frō a curious hypocrisy, & affectation of seeming other then we are, & yet as free frō a base kinde of carelesnes? to intermed­dle retyrednes, with soci­ety, so as one may giue sweetnesse to the other and both to vs. So slacke­ning the minde that we may not loosen it, & so bē ding as we may not break it? to make most of our selues, chearing vp our spirits with variety of re­creations with satiety of meals, & all other bodily indulgence, sauing that [Page 18] kennes (me thinkes) can neither beseeme a wise philosopher to prescribe nor a vertuous man to practise.Allowed [...]et by Seneca [...]n his last chapter of tranquillity Al these in their kindes please well, profit much, and are as soue­raigne for both these, as they are vnable to effect that for which they are propounded. Nature teaches thee all these should be done, she can­not teach thee to do thē and yet do all these and no more,Senecas rules reiected as vnsufficient. let mee neuer haue rest, if thou haue it. For neither are here the greatest enemyes of our peace so much as descry­ed [Page 19] a fair off, nor those that are noted are hereby so preuented that vpon most diligent practise we cā promise our selues any security: wherewith who so instructed dare cōfidently giue chalenge to all sinister euentes, is like to some sk [...] fencer who stands vpō his vsuall wards, & plaies well; but if there come a strange fetch of an vnwonted blowe, is put besides the rules of his art, and with much shame ouertaken. And for those that are knowne, beleeue me, the mind of man is too weak [Page 20] to beare out it selfe here­by against all onsets: There are light crosses that will take an easie re­pulse, others yet strong­er, that shake the house side, but breake not in vpō vs; others vehemēt, which by force make way to the hart where they find none breaking open the dore of the soul that denies entiāce: Others violent that lift the minde of the hend­ges, or rend the bars of it in peeces, others furi­ous that teare vp the ve­ry foundations from the bottome, leauing no mo­nument [Page 21] behind thē, but ruine. The wisest & most resolute Moralist that e­uer was, lookt pale when he shold tast of his Hem­lock; & by his timorous­nesse made sport to those that enuied his speculati­ons. The best of the hea­then Emperors (that was honored with the title of pietie) iustly magnified that courage of Christi­ans which made thē in­sult ouer their tormētors & by their fearelessenesse of earthquakes,Antonius Pius. & deaths argued the truth of their religion.An epistle to the A­sians con­cerning the perse­cuted christians. It must be, it can be none but a diuine [Page 22] power, that can vphold the minde against the rage of maine afflictions & yet the greatest crosses are not the greatest ene­mies to inward peace. Let vs therefore looke vp aboue our selues, and from the rules of an hyer air, supply the efects of naturall wisdome, giuing such infallible directions for trāquillity that who­soeuer shall-follow, can­not but liue sweetly and with c [...]ntinuall delight applauding himselfe at home when all the world besides him sh [...]l­bee miserable. To [Page 23] w [...]ich purpose it shall be requisite, [...] worke. first to remoue all causes of vnquietnes, and then to set down the groundes of our happy [...]est.

Sect. 4.

I Finde on the one two vniuer­sall enemyes of Tr [...]nquillity, [...] Conscience of euil done, Sense or fear of euill suffred. The for­mer in one word we call Sins, the latter Cros­ses. The 1. of these must bee quite taken away, the second duely tempe­red ere the hart can bee at rest. For first, how can [Page 24] that man be at peace, that is at variāce with God & himselfe? How shoulde peace be gods gift, if it could be without him, if it could be against him? It is the professiō of sin al­though faire spokē at the first closing, to be a perpetual make-bate betwixt God and man, betwixt a mā & himself. And this enmity, tho it do not cō ­tinually show it selfe, (as the mortallest enemies are not alwaies in pitched fieldes one against the o­ther) for that the cōsciēce is not euer clamorous, but somwhile is silēt, other­whiles with stil murmu­rings bewrais his mislikes [Page 25] yet doth euer more work secret vnquientnes to the hart. The guilty man may haue a seeming truce, a tru peace he cānot haue.The tor­ment of an euil cō science. Look vpō the face of the guilty hart, & thou shalt see it pale aud gastly; the smiles & laughters fainte & hartles, the speeches doubtful, & ful of abrupt stops & vnseasonable turnīgs, the purposes & motiōs vnsteddy, & sauorīg of much distractiō, argu­ing plainly that sin is not so smooth at hir first mo­tions, as turbulent after­wards: hēce are those vain wearyīgs of places & cō ­panies together with our selues, that the galled [Page 26] soule doth after the wōt of sick patients, seeke re­freshing in variety, and after many to [...]l [...]d & tur­ned sides complaines of remedilesse and vnaba­ted torment. Nero, after so much innocent blood may change his bed chamber, but his friendes euer attend him, euer are within him, and are as parts of himselfe. Alas what auailes it to seeke outward releefes, when thou hast thine executi­oner within thee? If thou couldest shift from thy selfe thou mightest haue some hope of ease; [Page 27] now thou shalt neuer wāt furies so long as thou hast thy selfe. Yea, what if thou wouldst runne from thy selfe? Thy soule may flie from thy body, thy conscience will not flye from thy soule, nor thy sin from thy consci­ence. Some men indeed in the bitternes of these pangs of sinne, like vnto those fondly impatient fishes, that leape out of the pan into the flame, haue leapt out of this priuate hell that is in them­selues, into the common pit, choosing rather to aduenture vpon the fu­ture [Page 28] paines that they haue feared, rather then to indure the present hor­rors they haue felt: wherin what haue they gay­ned, but to that hell which was within them, a second hell without. The conscience leaues not where the feends be­gin, but both ioyne together in torture. But there are some firme & obdu­rate forheads, whose resolution can laugh their sinnes out of counte­nance. There are so large and able gorges as that they can swallow and di­gest bloody murders, [Page 29] without complaint, who with the same hāds which they haue since their last meale embrued in blood can freely carue to themselues large mor sels at the next sitting.The ioy and peace of the gilty but dis­sembled. Beleeuest thou that such a mans heart laughs with his face? will not he dare to be an hypocrite that durst be a villaine? These glow-wormes when a night of sorrow compas­ses them, make a light­some and fiery show of ioy, when if thou presse thē thou findest nothing but a cold & crude moi­sture. Knowest thou not [Page 30] that ther are those, which coūt it no shame to sin, yet coūt it a shame to be checked with remorse e­specially so as others eies may descry? to whom re­pentāce seems base-min­dednesse, vnworthie of him that professes wise­dome and valour. Such a man can greeue when none sees it but himself cā laugh when others see it himself feeles not. Assure thy selfe that mans heart bleedeth when his face counterfaites a smile, hee wears out many waking hours when thou thinkst [Page 31] hee resteth, yea as his thoughts affoorde him not sleep, so his very sleep affordes him not rest: but while his senses are tyed vp, his sin is loose, repre­senting it selfe to him in his vgliest shape & frigh­ting him with horri­ble and hellish dreames. And if perhaps custome hath bred a carelesnesse in him, (as we see that v­sual whipping makes the childe not care for the rod) yet an vnwonted extremity of the blow shall fetch blood of the soule, and make the backe that is most hardned, [...] [Page 32] of smart: and the further the blow is fetcht through intermission of remorse, the harder it must needs alight. Therefore I may confidently tell the care­lesse sinner as that bolde Tragediā said to his great Pompey. the time shal come wherein thou shalt fetch deepe sighes, and therefore shalt sorrowe desperately, because thou sorrowedst not sooner. The fier of the cōsciēce may ly for a time smothered with a pile of greene wood, that it cannot bee discerned, whose moi­sture when once it hath [Page 33] maistred, it sends vp so much greater flame by how much it had greater resistance. Hope not thē to stop the mouth of thy Conscience from exclai­ming whiles thy sin cōti­nues, that indeuor is both vain & hurtful; so I haue seene them that haue stopt the nosthrill for bleeding in hope to stay the issue when the blood hindered in his former course hath broken out of the mouth, or found way downe into the stomack. The conscience is not pacifiable while sinne is within to vexe it. [Page 34] no more then an angry swelling can cease throb­bing and aching whiles the thorne or the cor­rupted matter lyes rot­ting vnderneath. Time that remedies all other e­uils of the mind encrea­seth this, which like to bodily diseases pr [...]oues worse with continu­ance, and growes vpon vs with our age.

Sect. 5.

THere can be therefore no peace without reconciliatiō,The remedy [...] Cōscience thou canst not be friends with thy selfe, till wi [...]h God▪ for thy conscience (which is thy best friend while thou sinnest not) like an honest seruant takes his Masters part a­gainst thee when thou hast sinned; and will not looke straight vpon thee, till thou vpon God; not daring to be so kinde to thee, as to be vnfaithfull [Page 36] to his maker: There can be no recōciliation with­out remission. God can neither forget the iniurie of sinne, nor dissemble hatred. It is for men, & those of hollow harts, to make pretences con­trary to their affections: soothings, and smiles, & imbracements where we meane not loue, are from weakenesse. Either for that we feare our insuf­ficiencie of present re­uenge, or hope for a fit­ter oportunitie after­wards, or for that we de­sire to make our further aduantage of him to [Page 37] whom wee meane euill. These courses are not in­cident into an almighty power, who hauing the command of all vēgeāce can smite where hee list without all doubtings or delayes. There can be no remissiō without satisfa­ction, neither dealeth God with vs as wee men with some desperat deb­ters, whom after long di­lation of paiments and many dayes broken wee altogether let go for dis­ability, or at least dismisse them vpon an easy cōpo­sitiō. Al sins are debts; all Gods debts must bee [Page 38] discharg [...]d. It is b [...]lde worde but a true. God should not bee iust if a­ny of his debts shoulde passe vn [...]. The cō ceit of the prophane vulgar makes God all of mercies, and therevpon hopes for pardon with­out payment. Fo [...]d and ignorant presumption to disioyne mercy & iustice in him to whō they are both essentiall to make mercy exceede iustice in him, in whom both are infinite. Darest thou hope God can be so kind to thee as to be vniust to himself? God will be iust [Page 39] goe thou on to p [...]esume and perish. There can be no satisfaction by any re­compence of ours, an in­finite iustice is off [...]nded, an infinite punishment is deserued by euery sin, & euery mās sins are as neer to infinite as number can make them. Our best en­deuour is worse then fi­nite, imperfect, & faulty. If it could be perfect wee owe it al in present, what we are bound to doe in present cannot make a­mends for what we haue not done in time past, which while we offer to God as good payment, [Page 40] we do with the profane traueller thinke to please him with empty date­shelles in lieu of preseruation Where shal we then finde a payment of infi­nite value but in him which is onely and all in­finite. The dignity of whose person being infi­nite gaue such worth to his satisfaction that what he suffred in short time was proportionable to what we should haue suffred beyond all times. He did all, suffred all, paid all, he did it for vs, we in him. Where shall I begin to wonder [Page 41] at thee O thou diuine & eternall peace-maker, the sauiour of men, the ānointed of God, mediator be­tweene God & man, in whom there is nothing which doth not exceede not only the conceit, but the very wonder of An­gels, who saw thee in thine humiliatiō with silēce, & adore thee in thy glory with perpetuall prayses and reioysinges. Thou wast for euer of thy selfe as God, of the father as the son; the eternall Son of an eternall Father, not later in being, not lesse in dignity, not other in [Page 42] substance. Begotten without diminotion of him that begot thee while he cōmunicated that who­ly to thee, which hee re­tained wholy in himself, because both were infi­nite without inequality of nature, without di­uision of essēce when be­ing in this estate thine in­finite loue and mercy to deperate mankind cau­sed thee O Sauiour to empty thy selfe of thy glory, that thou mightst put on our shame and misery. VVherfore not cea­sing to be God as thou wert, thou beganst to bee [Page 43] what thou wert not, mā; to the ende that thou mightst be a perfect me­diatour betwixt God & man, which wert both in one person; God that thou mightst satisfie, man that thou mightst suffer, that since man had sin­ned God was offended, thou which wert God and man, mightst satissy God for man. None but thy selfe which art the eternall word, can expres the depth of this mistery that God should be cloa­thed with flesh, come downe to men, and be­come man, that man [Page 44] might be exalted into the highest heauens; and that our nature might be taken into the fellowship of the deity. That he to whom all powers in hea­uen bowed, and thought it their honor to be ser­uiceable, should come downe to be a seruant to his slaues, a ransome for his enemies; together with our nature taking vp our very infirmities, our shame, our tormēts, and bearing our sinnes without sin. That thou whom the heauens were too strait to containe, shouldst lay thy selfe in [Page 45] an obscure cratch, thou which wert attended of Angels, shouldst be de­rided of men, reiected of thine owne, persecu­ted by Tyrants, tempted with Diuels, betrayed of thy seruant, crucified among theeues, and (which was worse then all these) in thine owne apprehēsion for the time as forsaken of thy father; That thou whō our sins had pierced shouldst for our sins both sweat drops of blood in the Garden, and powre out streames of bloode vppon the Crosse. O the inualuable [Page 46] purchase of our peace. O ransome enough for mo worlds! Thou which wert in the counsell of thy Father the Lambe slayne from the begin­ning of tyme, camst now in fulnes of tyme to bee slayne by man, for man; Being at once the sacri­fice offred, the priest that did offer; and the God to whome it was offred. How gratiously didst thou both proclaime our peace as a prophet in the tyme of thy life vppon earth, and purchase it by thy blood as a priest at thy death, and now con­firmest [Page 47] and applvest it as a King in heauē? By thee only it was procured, by thee it is profered. O mercy without example, without measure! God offers peace to man, the holy seekes to the vniust, the potter to the clay, the King to the traytor. We are vnworthy that we shoulde be receiued to peace tho we desired it; what are wee then that wee shoulde haue peace offred for the receiuing? An easy condition of so great a benefit, hee re­quires vs not to earne it, but to accept it of him, [Page 48] what could hee giue more? what could he re­quire lesse of vs?

Sect. 6.

THE purchase therefore of our peace was paid at once,The receit of our peace of­fred by Faith. yet must be seue rally reckoned to euery soule, whom it shall be­nefit. If we haue not an hād to take what Christs hand doth either hold, or offer, what is sufficient in him, cānot be effectu­all to vs. The spirituall hand wherby we appre­hend the sweet offers of [Page 49] our sauior is faith, which in short is no other then an affiāce in the mediator receiue peace & be happy beleue & thou hast recei­ued. From hēce it is that we are interessed in al that either God hath promi­sed, or Christ hath per­formed. Hence haue wee frō God both forgiuenes & loue the ground of all either peace or glory. Hence of enemies we become more then friends sonnes, and as sōnes may both expect and chal­lenge not onely care­full prouision and safe protection on earth, [Page 50] but an euerlasting patri­mony aboue. This fielde is so spatious, that it were easy for a man to leese himselfe in it, and if I should spend all my pil­grimage in this walk, my tyme would sooner ende then my way, wherein I woulde haue measured more paces, were it not that our scope is not so much to magnify the benefit of our peace, as to seeke how to obtaine it.

Behold now,A corol­lary of the benefite of this re­ceite. after we haue sought heauen and earth where onely the wearied Doue may find an Oliue of Peace. The [Page 51] apprehending of this al­sufficiēt satisfactiō makes it ours, vpon our satisfa­ction we haue remission; vpon remission followes reconciliation; vpon our recōciliatiō, peace. Whē therfore thy Conscience like a sterne Sergeāt shall catch thee by the throat, and arrest thee vpon Gods debt, let thy onely plea be that thou hast al­ready paid it; Bring forth that bloody acquittance sealed to thee from hea­uen vpon thy true Faith, straight way thou shalt see the fierce and terri­ble looke of thy consci­ence [Page 52] changed into frend­ly smiles, and that rough and violent hand that was reddy to drag thee to prison, shall now lo­uingly imbrace thee, & fight for thee against all the wrongfull attempts of any spirituall aduersa­ry. O heauenly Peace and more then peace, Frendship, wherby alone we are leagued with our selues and God with vs, which who euer wants shall finde a sad remem­brance in the midst of his dissembled iollity, and after all vayne strifes sha [...]l fall into many se­cret [Page 53] dumps, from which his guilty heart shall de­ny to be cheared, tho all the world were his min­strell. Oh pleasure wor­thy to be pitied, & laughter worthy of teares, that is without this!The vain shifts of the guilty Go then foolish man, and when thou feelest any check of thy sinne, seeke after thy iocondest companions, deceiue the tyme and thy selfe with mery pur­poses, with busy games, feast away thy cares, burie them and thy selfe in wine and sleepe, after all these friuolous dif­ferings, it will returne [Page 54] vpon thee, when thou wakest, perhaps ere thou wakest, nor will be repel­led till it haue showed thee thy hell, nor when it hath showed thee, will yet be repelled; So the stroken Dear hauing re­ceiued a deadly arrowe, whose shaft shaken out hath left the head behind it, runes from one thicket to another, not able to change his paine with his places, but finding his woundes still the worse with continuance. Ah foole, thy soule festereth within, and is affected so much more dāgerous­ly [Page 55] by how much lesse it appeareth. Thou maist while thy selfe with vari­ety, thou canst not ease thee. Sinne owes thee a spight, & will pay it thee, perhaps when thou art in worst case to sustaine it. This flitting doth but prouide for a further vi­olence at last. I haue seen a little stream of no noise which vpon his stoppage hath swelled vp, & with a loude gushing hath borne ouer the heape of turues wherewith it was resisted. Thy death-bed shall smart for these wil­full adiournings of repentance; [Page 56] whereon how ma­ny haue we heard rauing of their oulde neglected sins, and fearfully despai­ring when they haue had most need of comfort? In summe there is no way but this. Thy con­science must haue either satisfaction or torment. Discharge thy sinne be­tymes and bee at peace. Hee neuer breakes his sleepe for debt, that payes when he takes vp.

Sect. 7.

NEither can it suf­fice for peace,Solicitati­on of sin remedied. to haue crossed the old scrole of our sins if we preuent not the fu­ture, yea the present; very importunity of tēta­tion breeds vnquietnes. Sin where it hath got an haunt looketh for more, as humours that fall to­wards their old issue, & if it be not strōgly repelled doth neer as much vex vs with soliciting as with yeelding. Let others ēuy their happines I shall ne­uer thīk their life so much [Page 58] quiet, whose dores are continuall beaten, and their morning sleep bro­ken with early clients, whose entries are dayly thrōged with suters pres­sing neare for the next audience; much lesse that through the remisse an­sweres are daily haunted with traytors or other instrumēts of villany, offe­ring their mischieuous seruice & inciting them to some pestilent enter­prise. Such are tentati­ons to the soule. Where­of it cannot be ridde so long as it holds them in any hope of entertaine­ment [Page 59] and so long they will hope to preuaile, while we giue them but a cold and timorous de­nyall; Suters are drawne on with an easy repulse; counting that as halfe grāted which is but faint­ly gainsaid: Peremptory answeres can onely put sin out of heart for any second attempts. It is euer impudent when it meets not with a bold heart; hoping to preuayle by wea­rying vs, & wearying vs by intreaties. Let all sug­gestions therefore finde thee resolute so shall thy soule finde it selfe at rest [Page 60] for as the Diuell, so sinne his naturall brood flies a­way with resistance. To which purpose all our heddy & disordered af­fections,The orde­ring of af­fections. which are the secret factors of sinne & Satan, must be restrained by a strong and yet tem­perate command of rea­son and Religion; these, if they finde the reynes loose in their necks (like to the wilde horses of that chast hunter, in the Tragedie) carry vs ouer hils and rocks, and neuer leaue vs till we be dis­incombred, and they breathlesse; but contra­rily [Page 61] if they be pulled in with the sudden vio­lence of a straite hand, they fall to plunging, and careering, and ne­uer leaue till their saddle be emptie, & euen then daungerously strike at their prostrate rider. If there be any exercise of Christian wisedome, it is in the menaging of these vnrulie affecti­ons, which are not more necessarie in their best vse, then pernicious in their mis-gouernance. Reason hath alwaies beene busie in vnder­taking this so necessarie [Page 62] a moderation, wherein altho she haue preuailed with some of colder temper, yet those which haue beene of more stub borne mettall, like vnto growen schollers, which scorne the ferula that ru­led their minority, haue still despised her weake indeuours. Onely chri­stianity hath this power which with our second birth giues vs a new na­ture, so that now, if ex­cesse of passions be natu­rall to vs as men, the or­der of them is naturall to vs as Christians. Reason bids the angry man lay [Page 63] ouer his Alphabet ere he giue his answere; hoping by this intermission of tyme to gaine the mitigation of his rage. Hee was neuer throughly angry that can endure the reci­tal of so many idle letters. Christianity giues not rules, but power to auoid this short madnesse. It was a wise speech that is reported of our best and last Cardinall I hope, that this Iland either did or shall see, who when a skil­full Astrologer vpon the calculation of his natiui­ty had fortold him some specialities, concerning [Page 64] his future estate, answe­red: such perhaps I was borne, but since that time I haue beene borne again & my second natiuitie hath crossed my first. The power of nature is a good plea for those that acknowledge nothing a­boue nature. But for a Christian to excuse his intemperatenes by his naturall inclination, and to say I am borne cholericke, sullen, amorous, is an Apologie worse then the faulte. Wherefore serues religion but to subdue or go­uerne [Page 65] nature? Wee are so much Christians as we cā rule our selues, the rest is but forme, and speculation. Yea the very thought of our profession is so power­full that (like vnto that precious stone) being cast into this sea it as­swayeth those inward tempestes, that were raysed by the affe­ctions. The vnrege­nerate minde is not capable of this po­wer, and therefore through the continuall mutinyes of his passions [Page 66] cannot but be subiect to perpetuall vnquietnesse. There is neither remedy nor hope in this estate: But the christian soule that hath inured it selfe to the awe of God, & the exercises of true mortifi­cation, by the onely loo­king vp at his holy profes­sion cureth the burning venome of these fiery serpents that lurke with­in him. Hast thou no­thing but nature? resolue to looke for no peace. God is not prodigall to cast away his best bles­sings on so vnworthy subiects. Art thou a chri­stian? [Page 67] Do but remember thou art so: and then if thou darst if thou canst, yeelde to the excesse of Passions.

Sect. 8.

HItherto the most inward and dan­gerous enemy of our Peace which if wee haue once maistred,The se­cond paine enemie to peace Crosses. the other field shal be fought & won with lesse blood. Crosses disquiet vs either in their present feeling, or their expectatiō. Both of them when they meet with weak minds, so ex­treamely [Page 68] distempering them, that the Patient for the time is not himselfe: How many haue wee knowne which through a lingring disease, weary of their paine, weary of their liues haue made their owne hands their executioners? How ma­ny meeting with an hed­strong griefe which they could not menage, haue by the violēce of it beene carried quite from their wits? How many milliōs what for incurable mala­dies, what forlosses, what for defamatiōs, what for sad accidēts to their chil­drē [Page 69] rub out their liues in perpetual discōtētment, therefore liuing because they cannot yet dye, not for that they like to liue. If there could be any hu­mane receit prescribed to auoid euils, it wold be purchased at an hie rate; But both it is impossible that earth should redres that which is sēt frō hea­uē & if it cold be dōe, euē the wāt of miseries wold proue miserable; For the mind cloied with cōtinu alfelicity wold grow aburdē to it selfe, lothing that at last which intermission would haue made pleasāt [Page 70] Giue a free horse the full rains & he will soon tire. Sūmer is the sweetest sea­son by all consents, where in the earth is both most rich with encrease, & most gorgeous for ornament, yet if it wer not receiued with enterchāges of cold frosts & peircing winds, who could liue. Summer would be no summer, if winter did not both lead it in & follow it we may not therfore either hope or striue to escape al cros­ses, some we may, what thou canst, fly from; what thou cāst not, allay & mi­tigat; in crosses vniuersally [Page 71] let this be thy rule, make thy self none, escape some beare the rest, sweeten al.

Sect. 9.

APprehēsiō giues life to crosses,Of crosses that arise from conceit. & if some be sim­ply most are as they are taken. I haue seene many which when God hath meant thē no hurt haue framed themselues cros­ses out of imagination & haue foūd that insuppor­table for weight, which in truth neuer was, neither had euer any but a fanci­ed being. Others againe laughing out heauy affli­ctiōs, for which they wer [Page 72] bemoned of the behol­ders. One receiues a ded­ly woūd; & lookes not so much as pale at the smart another heares of maine losses, & like Zeno after newes of his shipwrack, (as altogether passiō-lesse goes to his rest, not brea­king an houres sleepe for that, which woulde breake the hart of some others. Greenham that S. of ours (whom it cannot disparage that he was re­serued for our so loose an age) can lye spred qui­etly vpon the forme loo­king for the Chirurgi­ans knife, binding him­selfe [Page 73] as fast with a resol­ued patience, as others with strongest cords, abi­ding his flesh carued and his bowels rifled, and not stirring more then if hee felt not, while others trē ­ble to expect, & shrink to feel but the pricking of a vayne. There can be no remedie for imaginary crosses but wisedome, which shall teach vs to esteeme of all euentes as they are, like a true glasse representing all thinges to our minds in their due proportiō. So as Crosses may not seeme that are not, nor little & gētle ones [Page 74] seeme great and intole­rable. Giue thy body Elsebore, thy mind good Counsell, thine eare to thy friend, and these fan­tasticall euils shall vanish away like themselues.

Sect. 10.

IT were idle aduise to bid men auoyd e­uils.Of true & r [...]all cros­ [...]es. Nature hath by a secret instinct taught brute creatures so much, whether wit or sa­gacitie: & our selfe loue making the best aduan­tage of reason will easily [Page 75] make vs so wise & care­full; it is more worth our labor, since our life is so open to calamities, & nature to impatience, to teach men to beare what euils they cannot auoyd, & how by a well-disposednesse of minde, we may correct the ini­quitie of all hard euents. Wherein it is hardly cre­dible how much good art, and precepts of reso­lution may auayle vs. I haue seene one man by the helpe of a little en­gine lift vp that weight alone which fortie hel­ping handes by their [Page 76] cleare strength might haue endeuored in vaine We liue here in an Oce­an of troubles, wherein we can see no firme land. One waue falling vpon another ere the former haue wrought all his spight. Mischiefes striue for places, as if they fea­red to loose their roome if they hasted not: so ma­ny good thinges as wee haue, so many euilles arise from their priua­tion; besides no fewer reall and positiue euills that afflict vs; To pre­scribe & apply receyts to euery particular crosse [Page 77] were to write a Salme­ron-like commentary vp­on Petrarchs remedies, & I doubt whether so the worke would be perfect, a life would be too little to write it, & but enough to read it.

Sect. 11.

THe same me­dicines cannot helpe all disea­ses of the bodie,The first remedy of Crosses. of the soule they may.Before they come. We see fencers giue their schol­lers the same common rules of position of war­ding and weilding [Page 78] their weapon for offence for defence against all commers: such vniuersal precepts there are for Crosses. In the first wher­of, I would prescribe Ex­pectation, that either kil­leth or abateth euills. For Crosses after the nature of the Cockatrice, dye if they be foreseene: Whether this prouidence makes vs more strong to resist or by some secret power makes them more vnable to assault vs. It is not cre­dible what a fore-resol­ued mind can do, can suffer. Could our english Milo, of whome Spayne yet [Page 79] speaketh since their last peace, haue ouerthrown that furious beast, made now more violēt throgh the rage of his bayting, if he had not setled him­selfe in his station, and expected? The frighted multitude ran away frō that ouer-earnest sport, which begun in pleasure, ended in terror, if he had turned his backe with the rest, where had been his safe­ty, where his glory, and reward? Now he stoode still, expected, ouercame, by one fact he at once preserued, honored, enrich­ed himselfe. Euills will [Page 80] come neuer the sooner for that thou lookest for them, they will come the easier; it is a labor wel lost if they come not, & well bestowed if they do cōe. We are sure the worst may come, why should we be secure that it will not? Suddennesse finds weak minds secure makes them miserable, leaues them desperate. The best way therefore is to make things present in conceit before they come, that they may be halfe past in their violence whē they doe come: Euen with woodē wasters we learn [Page 81] at the sharp. As therefore good souldiors exercise thēselus lōg at the pale, & there vse those actiuities which afterwardes they shall practise vpon a true aduersary so must we presēt to ourselues imaginary crosses & menage thē in our mind before god sēds them in euēt. Now I eat, sleep, digest, all soundly without cōplaint; what if a lāquishing disease shold bereaue me of my appe­tite & rest? that I shold see dainties & loath thē, sur­fetting of the very smell, of the thought of the best dishes? that I should [Page 82] count the lingring hours and think Ezechias long day returned wearying my selfe with changing sides, and wishing any thing but what I am. How could I take this di­stemper? Now I haue (if not what I woulde) yet what I need, as not aboū ­ding with idle superflui­ties, so not straitned with penurie of necessarie thinges. What if pouerty should rush vpon me as an armed man, spoyling me of all my little, that I had, and send me to the fountaine for my best cellar? to the ground for my [Page 83] bed, for my bread to anothers cup-bord, for my cloathes to the brokers shoppe, or my friendes wardrop? How could I brooke this want, I am now at home walking in my owne grounds, loo­king on my yong plantes the hope of posterity, cō ­sidering the nature, ad­uantages or feares of my soile, inioying the patri­mony of my fathers; What if for my religion, or the malicious sentēce of sōe great one, I should be exiled from my country, wandring amongst those whose habit, lan­guage, [Page 84] fashion my igno­rance shal make me won­der at; where the solitude of places, and strangenes of persons shall make my life vncomfortable. How could I abide the smell of forrain smoke? how shold I take the contēpt & hard vsage that waits vpō strā ­gers? Thy prosperity is I­dle, & il spent if it be not medled with such fore­casting and wisely suspi­cious thoughts, if it bee wholly bestowed in en­ioying, no whit in pre­uenting: Like vnto a foolish Citty which not­withstanding a dange­rous [Page 85] situatiō, spends al her wealth in rich furniturs of chambers, & state-hou­ses; VVhile they bestowe not one shouel-full of earth on outward Bul­warkes to their defence: this is but to make our e­nemies the happier and our selues the more redi­ly miserable: If thou wilt not therefore be op­pressed with euills; Ex­pect, and Exercise; Exer­cise thy selfe with conceit of euills; Expect the e­uills themselues; Yea exercise thy selfe in expectation; so while the minde pleasetth it selfe [Page 86] in thinking, yet I am not thus, it prepareth it selfe against it may be so: And if some that haue beene good at the foyles, haue proued cowardly at the sharpe, yet on the con­trary who euer durst point a single combate in the field, that hath not beene somewhat trayned in the sence schoole?

Sect. 12.

NEither doth it a little blunt the edge of euills to consider that they come from a diuine hand,The next remedie of crosses when they are come. [Page 87] Whose almighty pow­er is guided by a most wise prouidence and tē ­pered with a fatherly loue.From their Au­thor; Euer the sauadge creatures will be smitten of their keeper, & repine not; if of a stranger, they teare him in peeces. Hee strikes me that made me, that moderats the world, Why struggle, I with him, why with my selfe? Am I a foole, or a rebel? A foole if I be ignorant whence my crosses come; A rebel if I know it, and be impa­tient? My sufferinges are from a God, from my God, hee hath destin'd [Page 88] me euery dramme of sor­row that I feele: Thus much thou shalt abide, & here shall thy miseries be stinted: Al worldly helps cannot abate them; all powers of hell cannot ad one scruple to their weight, that he hath al­lotted mee: I must ther­fore either blaspheame God in my heart, detra­cting from his infinite iu­stice, wisedome, power, mercy which al shal stand inuiolable, when milliōs of such worms as I am are gone to dust. Or els cōfes that I ought to be patient And if I profes I shold be [Page 89] that I will not, I befoole my selfe and bewray mi­serable impotency. But, (as impatience is full of excuses) it was thine own rash improuidēce, or the spight of thine e­nemy that impouerisht, that defamed thee, it was the malignity of some vnholesomedish, or some grosse corrupted aire that hath distempered thee? Ah foolish curte, why doest thou bite at the stone, which could ne­uer haue hurt thee but from the hand that threw it? If I wounde thee what matters it whether [Page 90] with mine owne sword, or thine, or anothers. God strikes some immediately from heauen with his owne arme, or with the arme of Angels: Others bee buffetes with their own hands, some by the reuenging sword of an e­nemy, others with the sist of his dumb creatures God strikes in all; His hand moues theirs. If thou see it not, blame thy carnall eyes: why doest thou fault the instrumēt while thou knowest the agent? Euer the dying theefe pardons the executioner, exclaimes on his [Page 91] vniust Iudge or his mali­cious accusers. Either then blame the first mo­uer, or discharge the meanes, which as they could not haue touched thee but as from him; so frō him they haue af­flicted thee iustly, wrōg­fully perhaps as in them­selues.

Sect. 13.

BVT neither seemeth it enough to be patient in crosses if we be not thankfull also:The third antidote of crosses. Good [Page 92] things challenge more then bare contentment. Crosses (vniustly termed euils) as they are sent of him that is all goodnes so they are sent for good and his end cannot bee frustrate. What greater good can be to the disea­sed man then fit and pro­per Physicke to recure him? Crosses are the one­ly medicines of sicke mindes. Thy sounde body carryes within it a sicke soule; thou fee­lest it not perhappes so much more art thou sicke and so much more daungerously: Perhaps [Page 93] thou labourest of some plethorie of pride, or of some dropsie of Co­uetousnesse, or the Stag­gers of inconstancy, or some feuer of luxurie, or consumption of en­uye, or perhaps of the lethargie of idle­nesse, or of the phren­sie of anger: It is a rare soule that hath not some notable dis­ease: Onely crosses are thy remedyes: What if they bee vnplea­sant? They are Phy­sicke It is enough if they bee wholesome; [Page 94] Not pleasant tast, but the secret vertue commends medicines; If they cure thee, they shal please thee euen in displeasing, or els thou louest thy palate a­boue thy soule. What madnesse is this? when thou complainest of a bodily disease, thou sen­dest to the Phisician, that he may send thee not sa­uorie but wholsome po­tions; Thou receiuest them in spight of thine abhorring stomacke, and withall both thankest & rewardest the Phisician. Thy soule is sicke; Thy heauenly Phisician sees it, [Page 95] and pitties thee ere thou thy selfe, and vnsent to, sends thee not a plausi­ble but a souerayne reme­dy, thou loathest the sa­uor, and rather wilt ha­zard thy life, then offend thy palate; and in steede of thankes repinest at, re­uilest the Phisician. How comes it that wee loue our selues so little (if at least we count our soules the best or any part) as that we had rather vnder­goe death then paine; choosing rather wilfull sicknes then an harsh re­medy? surely wee men are meere fooles in the esti­mation [Page 96] of our own good like children our choice is led altogether by show no whit by substāce. We cry after euery well-seeming toy, and put from vs solide profers of good thinges: The wise arbitrator of all thinges sees our folly and corrects it, with holding our idle desires and forcing vpon vs the sound good wee refuse: It is second folly in vs if we thanke him not: The foolish babe cryes for his fathers bright knife or gilded pilles; The wiser father knowes that they can but hurt him; & ther­fore-holdes [Page 97] them after al his tears; the child thinks he is vsed but vnkindly: Euery wise man, & him­selfe at more yeares can say it was but childish folly, in desiring it, in cō ­plaining that hee missed it. The losse of wealth, friendes, health is some­times gayne to vs, thy body, thy estate, is worse thy soule is better, why complai­nest thou?

Sect. 14.

NAy,The 4. and last part from their issue it shal not be inough (me thinks) if only we be but cō ­tented & thankfull, if not also chearful in afflictiōs; If that as wee feele their paine, so we look to their end; although indeede this is not more requi­site then rarely found, as being proper only to the good heart; Euery bird can sing in a cleare heauē in a temperat spring, that one as most familiar so is most cōmēded that sings [Page 99] mery notes in the midst of a showre, or the dead of winter; Euery Epicure can enlarge his heart to mirth in the midst of his cups, and daliance; Only the three childrē can sing in the furnace, Paul & Silas in the stocks, Martyres at the stake: It is from heauen, that this ioy comes so contrary to all earthly occasions, bred in the faithfull heart through a serious & feeling respect to the issue of what hee feeles; the quiet and vn­troubled fruit of his righ­teousnesse, glorie, the crowne after his fight af­ter [Page 100] his minute of paine eternitie of ioy He ne­uer lookt ouer the thre­shold of heauen that can­not more re [...]oyce that he shall be glorious, then mour [...]e in present that he is miserable.

Sect. 15.

YEa this consi­deration is so powerful,Of the im­portunity & terrour of Death. that it alone is able to make apart against the feare or sense of the last and greatest of all terri­bles, Death it selfe; [Page 101] which in the Conscience of his owne dreadful­nesse, iustly laughes at all the vaine humane precepts of Tranquilli­tie, appalling the most resolute and vexing the most cheerefull mindes. Neither prophane Lucre­tius, with all his Epicu­rean rules of confidence, nor drunken Anacreon, with all his wantō Odes, can shift of the importu­nate, and violent hor­ror of this aduersarie. Seest thou the Chalde­an Tyraunt beset with the sacred boules of [Page 102] Ierusalem, the late spoiles of Gods Temple, and in cōtempt of their owner [...] carousing healthes to his Queenes, Concubines, Peires; singing amids his cups triumphant carols of praise to his molten & carued Gods? Wouldst thou euer suspect that this hie courage could be abated, or that this sumptuous & presump­tuous banquet after so royall and rocond con­tinuance should haue a­ny other conclusion but pleasure? Stay but one houre longer, and thou shalt see that face, that [Page 103] now shines with a ruddy glosse according to the colour of his liquor, looke pale and gastly, stayned with the colours of feare and death, and that proud hand, which now lifts vp his Ma [...]sie Gobl [...]ts in defiance of God, tremble like a leafe in a storme; and those strong knees which ne­uer stooped to the bur­den of their laden body, now notable to beare vp themselues: but loosened with a sudden palsie of feare, one knocking a­gainst the other. And all this, for that death writes [Page 104] him a letter of summons to appeare that night be­fore him; and according­ly ere the next Sun, sent two Eunuches for his ho­nourable conueyance in­to an other world; where now are those delicate morselles, those deepe draughts, those mery dit­ties, wherwith the palat & eare so pleased them­selues? What is now be­come of al those chearful lookes, loose laughters, stately port, reuelles, tri­umphs of the feasting court? Why doth none of his gallant nobles reuiue the faynted [Page 105] courage of their Lorde with a new cuppe? or with some stirring iest shake him out of this vnseasonable Melancho­ly? O death how impe­rious art thou to car­nall mindes? aggra­uating their misery not onely by expectation of future payne, but by the remembrance of the wonted causes of their ioy? and not suffering them to see ought but what may torment them? Euen that monster of Ce­sars, that had been so well acquainted with blood [Page 106] & neuer had found bet­ter sport them in cutting of throates when no wit came to his owne ru [...]ne how effeminate, how des­perately cowardous did he show himselfe? to the wōder of al readers, that hee which was euer so valiant in killing shold bee so womanish­ly hartelesse in dying.

Sect. 16.

THere are that fear not so much to be dead,The grounds of the feare of Death. as to dye; the very act of disso­lutiō frighting them with a tormenting expectati­on of a short, but intolle­rable painfulnes, which let, if the wisedome of God had not interposed to timorous nature, there would haue beene many more Lucreces, Cleopatraes, Achitophles; & good lawes should haue found lit­tle oportunity of execu­tion, through the wilfull [Page 108] funeralles of malefactors For the soule that comes into the body without a­ny (at least sensible) plea­sure departs not from it without an extreamitie of payne; which varying according to the manner and meanes of separation yet in all violent deathes especially, retayneth a violence not to be auoy­ded, hard to bee indured and if diseases, which are destin'd towardes death as their end, bee so painfull, what must the ende and perfection of diseases bee? Since as deseases are the [Page 109] maladies of the body, so death is the maladie of diseases: There are that feare not so much to dye as to bee dead. If the pang bee bitter, yet it is but short; the comfortlesse state of the dead strikes some that could well resolue for the act of their pas­sage.HA­DRI­AN Animula Vagula Blandula. Not the worste of the heathen Empe­rors, made that mone­full ditty on his death­bed, wherein he be wray­eth to all memory, much feeling pittie of his soule, for her doubtfull [Page 110] and impotent condition after her parture. How doth Platoes worldling bewaile the misery of the graue, [...]. &c. besides all respect of paine? Woe is mee that I shall lye alone rot­ting in the silent earth, a­mongst the crawlinge wormes not seeing ought aboue, not seene. Very not being is sufficiently abhorred of nature, if death had no more to make it fearfull: But those that haue liued vnder light enough, to show them the gates of hell, af­ter their passage through the gates of death, and [Page 111] haue learned that death is not onely horrible for our not being here, but for being infinitely, eter­nally miserable in a future world, nor so much for the dissolution of life, as the beginning of tormēt those cannot without the certaine hope of their immunity, but carnally fear to dy, and hellishly feare to bee dead: For if it bee such paine to dye, what is it to bee euer dying? & if the strayning or luxati­on of one ioynt, can so af­flict vs, what shall the ra­cking of the whole body and the torturing of the [Page 112] soule, whose animation alone makes the body to feele and complaine of smart? and if men haue deuised such ex­quisite torments, what can spirites, more subtile more malicious? and if our momentany suffe­ringe seeme long, how long shall that be that is eternall? and if the sor­rowes i [...] differently in­cidēt to Gods dear ones vpon earth be so extreme as sometimes to driue them within sight of despayring, what shall those bee that are reserued onely for those [Page 113] that hate him, and that hee hateth? None but those who haue hearde the desperat complaints of some guilty Spyra, or whose soules haue beene a little scorched with these flames, can enough conceiue of the horror of this estate; it beeing the policie of our com­mon enemie to con­ceale it so long, that wee may see and feele it at once: least wee shoulde feare it, before it be too late to bee a­uoyded.

Sect. 17.

NOw when this great aduersary,Remedie of the last & greatest breach of peace, ari­sing from Death. [...]ike a proud Gi­ant comes stalking out in his feareful shape, and in­sults ouer our fraile mor­tality, daring the worlde to match him with an e­quall champion, whiles a whole hoast of world­lings show him their backs for feare, the true Christian armed onely with confidence and re­solutiō of his future hap­pinesse dares boldly en counter him, and can [Page 115] wound him in the fore­head (the wonted seate of terror) and trampling vpon him can cut off his head with his own sword & victoriously returning, can sing in Triumph Oh death where is thy s [...]ing! An happy victory! we die & are not foiled: yea we are conquerors in dy­ing: wee could not ouer come death, if wee dyed not: That dissolution is well bestowed, that parts the soule from the body that it may vnite both to God: All our life here (as that heauēly Doctor wel termes it) is but a vitall [Page 116] death how aduantage­ous is that death that de­termines this false & dy­ing life,Augu­stine. and beginnes a true one, aboue all the titles of happinesse? The Epicure or Saducee, dare not dye for feare of not being; The guiltye and loose worldling dare not dye for feare of beeing miserable; The distrust­full and doubting se­mi-christian dare not dye, because he knows not, whether hee shall bee, or bee miserable, or not bee at all; The resolued Christian dare and woulde dye, be­cause [Page 117] hee knowes hee shall bee happye, and looking merrily towards heauen the place of his rest can vnfainedly say, I desire to bee dissol­ued: I see thee, my home, I see thee; A sweete and glorious home, after a weary pilgrimage; I see thee and now after manye lingring hopes, I aspire to thee: Howe ofte haue I looked vp at thee with admiratiō & rauish­ment of soule; & by the goodly beams that I haue seen gessed at the glorye that is aboue them? How [Page 118] ofte haue I scorned these dead and vnplea­sant pleasures of earth, in comparison of thine? I come now my ioyes, I come to possesse you: I come through paine and death; Yea, if hell it selfe were in the way betwixt you and mee, I woulde paste through hell it selfe to enioy you.Tull. Tuscul. Cal [...]i­mach. Epigram. And in truth if that heathen Cle­ombrotus a follower of the ancient Academy, but vpon only reading of his Maister Platoes discourses of the immortality of the soule, coulde cast downe himselfe hedlong from an [Page 119] hye rocke, and wilfully breake his necke, that he might bee possessed of that immortality which hee beleeued to follow vpon death, how conten­ted should they be to dye that know they shall be more then immortall glorious?August. de Heres. He went, not in an hate of the flesh as the Patrician hereticks of olde, but in a blind loue to his soule out of bare opiniō: Wee vpon an holy loue grounded vpon assured knowledge: He vpon an opinion of future life, we on knowledge of future glory. Hee went vnsent [Page 120] for, we called for by our maker: Why should his courage exceede ours, since our ground, our e­state so far exceedes his; Euen this age, within the reach of our memorie, bred that peremptory▪ I­talian which in imitation of the old Romā courage (least in that degenerated nation, there shoulde bee no step left of the quali­ties of their Ancestours) entring vpon his tormēt for killing a Tyrant, cheared himselfe with this cō fidēce.Mor [...] a­cerba, Fa­ma per­petua. My death is sharp my fame shall bee euer­lasting: The voyce of [Page 121] a Romane, not of a chri­stian; My fame shalbee e­ternall; An idle comfort: My fame shall liue, not my soule liue to see it: What shall it auayle thee to bee talkt of while thou art not: Then fame only is pretious when a man liues to enioy it; The fame that suruiues the soule, is bootles; Yet euē this hope cheared him a­gainst the violēce of his death; what should it do vs that not our fame but our life, our glory after death cānot dy? Hee that hath Stephens eies to look into heuē cānot but haue [Page 122] the tongue of the Saints Come Lord. How long? That man seeing the glo­ry of the end, cannot but contemne the hardnesse of the way; But who wants those eies, if he say and sweare that he feares not death, beleeue him not If he protest his Tran­quillity, & yet fear death, beleeue him not; Beleeue him not if he say he is not miserable.

Sect. 18.

THese are ene­mies on the left hand.The se­cond rāke of the e­nemies of Peace. There want not some on the right; Which with lesse profession of hostilitye, hurt no lesse; Not so easi­ly perceiued, because they distemper the mind not without some kinde of pleasure. Surfeit killes more then famine. These are the ouer-desiring and ouer-ioying of these earthly thinges.Hippocr. Aphons. All immoderations are enemyes, as to health so to peace. He that [Page 124] desires, wants as much, as he that hath nothing. The drunken man is as thirstie, as the sweating traueller: Hence are the studies, cares, feares, ie­lousies, hopes griefes, enuies, wishes, platforms of atchiuing, alterations of purposes, and a thou­sand like, whereof each one is enough to make the life troublesom. One is sicke of his neighbour field, whose mishapen angels disfigure his, and hinder his Lordship of entirenes: what he hath is not regarded, for the want of what he cannot [Page 125] haue. Another feeds on crusts to purchase what he must leaue perhaps to a foole, or (which is not much better) to a prodigall heyre. Ano­ther, in the extremitie of couetous folly, chooses to die an vnpitied death, hanging himselfe for the fall of the market, while the commons laugh at that losse, & in their spee­ches Epitaph vpō him, as on that Pope. He liued as a wolfe, & died as a dog. One cares not what attē ­dance he daunces at all houres, on whose stairs he sits, what vices he sooths, [Page 126] deformities he imitates, what seruile offices hee doth, in an hope to rise. Another stomackes the couered head, and stiffe knee of his inferiour; an­gry that other men think him not so good as hee thinks himselfe. Another eates his own heart with enuie at the richer furni­ture, and better estate, or more honor of his neigh­bor thinking his own not good, because another hath better: Another vexeth himselfe with a word of disgrace, past from the mouth of an enemie, which hee neither can di­gest [Page 127] nor cast vp, resoluing because another will bee his enemy, to be his own, These humors are as ma­nifold,The first remedie of an ouer prospe­rous e­state. as there are men that seeme prosperous: For the auoiding of all which ridiculous and yet spightful inconuenien­ces;The vani­tie & vn­profita­blenes of Riches. the minde must bee setled in a perswasion of the worthlessenesse of these outward things; Let it know,The first enemie on the right hand. that these riches haue made many prou­der, none better; That as neuer man was, so neuer wise man thought him­selfe better for enioying them.Socrates. Would that wise [Page 128] Philosopher, haue cast his gold into the sea, if he had not knowne he should liue more happi­ly without it?A proofe that with Christians deserues no credit, but with heathens cōmands it. If he knew not the vse of riches hee was no wise man; if hee knew not the best way to quietnes, he was no phi­losopher; now euen by the voyce of their oracle hee was confessed to bee both, yet cast away his gold that hee might bee happy. Would that wise prophet haue prayed as­well against riches, as po­uerty? Would so many great mē (wherof our litle Ilād hath yeilded 9. crowned [Page 129] kings, while it was held of old by the Saxōs) after they had continued their life in the throne, haue ended it in the cell, and changed their scep­ter for a booke, if they could haue foūd as much felicity in the hyest estate, as security in the lowest? I heare Peter and Iohn, the eldest and dearest Apostles, say Golde and siluer haue I none, I heare the Diuell say All these will I giue thee, and they are mine to giue; VVhether shal I desire to bee in the state of these saints, or that deuil? [Page 130] He was therfore a better husband, then a philoso­pher, that first termed riches, Goods, and hee mended the title wel, that adding a fit epithet, cal­led them goodes of For­tune, False goods, ascri­bed to a false Patron, ther is no fortune to giue or guide riches; there is no true goodnes in riches to be guided; His meaning then was (as I can inter­pret it) to teach vs in this title; that it is a chance if euer riches were good to any. In summe, who would account those as riches, or those riches as [Page 131] goods, which hurt the owner, disquiet others which the worst haue, which the best haue not, which those that haue, not, wāt not; which those want that haue them, which are lost in a night and a man is not worse when hee hath lost them? It is true of them that we say of Fire and water, they are good seruantes, ill maisters. Make them thy slaue, they shall be goodes indeede, in vse if not in nature; good to thy selfe, good to others by thee: But if they bee thy maisters, thou hast [Page 132] condemned thy selfe to thine own Gallyes; If a ser­uant rule, he proues a Tyrant; What madnes is this, thou hast made thy selfe at once, a slaue and a foole? VVhat if thy chaines bee of golde, or if with Heliogabalus thou hast made thee silken haliers? thy serui­tude may be more glorious, it is no lesse misera­ble.

Sect. 19.

HOnour perhaps is yet better;The se­cond ene­mie on the right hand Ho­nor. such is the confused opinion of those that knowe little; but a di­stinct and curious head shall finde an hard taske to define in what point the goodnes therof con­sisteth: Is it in hye des­cent of blood? I would thinke so, if nature were tyed by any law to produce children like qualited to their pa­rents: But although in the [Page 134] brute creatures shee bee euer thus regular, that ye shal neuer find a yong pi­geō hatched in an eagles nest, neither can I thinke that true (or if true it was monsterous) that Nicip­pus his sheep shold yeane a Lion, yet in the best creature (which hath his form & her attending qualities from aboue) with a like­nes of face and features, is commonly founde an vnlikenes of disposition: Onely the earthly part followes the seede, wise­dome, valour; vertue are of another beginning: Shall I bow to a molten [Page 135] calfe because it was made of goldē eare-rings? Shal I condemne all honor of the first head (tho vpō neuer so noble deseruing) because it can shewe no­thing before it selfe but a white shield? If Cesar or Agathocles be a Potters sonne shall I contemne him? Or if wise Bion be the sonne of an infamous Curtizan,Olympia. Diog. Lae [...]. shall the censo­rious lawyer race him of the Catalogue with par­tus sequitur ventrem? Lastly shall I account that good which is incident to the worst? Either therefore greatnes must show some [Page 136] charter wherein it is pri­ueledged with successiō of vertue, or els the goodnes of honor cannot consist in blood: Is it then in the admiration and hye opinion that others haue cōceiued of thee, which drawes all dutiful respect and humble offices from thē to thee? Ofickle good that is euer in the kee­ping of others especial­ly of the vnstable vul­gar, that beast of many heads, whose deuided tongues, as they neuer a­gree with each other, so seldōe when euer agree lōg with thēselus. Do we [Page 137] not see the superstitious Listrians, that ere-while would needs make Paul a God against his wil, & in deuout zeal drew crow­ned Buls to the altars, of their new Iupiter, & Mer­cury? violence can scarce hold thē frō sacrificing vnto him: Now not many hours after gather vp stōs against him; hauing in their cōceits turned him frō a God into a malefa­ctor; and are ready to kill him in steed of killing a sacrifice to him: Such is the multitude & such the steddines of their honor: there thē ōly is tru honor [Page 138] where blood and vertue meet together, the great­nesse whereof is from blood, the goodnes from vertue; Reioyce ye great men; that your blood is ennobled with the ver­tues and deserts of your Ancestors? this onely is yours, this onely challenges all vnfayned respect of your inferiours, count it praise-worthy not that you haue, but that you deserue honour. Blood may be tainted, the opinion of the vulgar cannot be constant onely vertue is euer like it selfe; & only wins reuerence euen of [Page 139] those that hath it; with­out which, greatnes is as a Beacon of vice, to draw mens eyes the more to behold it; and those that see it, dare loath it; tho they dare not censure it: so while the knee ben­deth, the minde abhor­reth, and telleth the body it honors an vnworthy subiect, within it selfe se­cretly comparing that vicious great man, on whom his submisse cur­tesie is cast away, to some goodly faire bound Seneca [...]s Tragedies,Lucian that is curiously gilded with­out; which if a man open [Page 140] he shall finde Thyestes the toomb of his owne chil­dren; or Oedipus the hus­band of his owne mother or some such monstrous part, which he at once reades and hates.

Sect. 20.

LET him thinke that not onelie these outwarde thinges are not in them­selues good,The se­cond re­medie of ouer-ioy­ed prospe­ritie. but that they expose their owners to misery, for besides that God vsually punishes our ouer-louing them with their losse (because hee thinks thē vnworthy ri­ualls [Page 141] to himself, who chal­lengeth all height of loue as his onely right) so that the way to loose is to loue much, the largenes more­ouer either of affectiō, or estate, maks an opē way to ruin; while a mā walks on plain groūd he falls not, or if hee fall hee doth but measure his lēgth on the groūd, & rise again with out harme, but hee that climbeth hye is in dāger of falling, & if he fal of kil­ling. All the sailes hoised giue vantage to a tem­pest which by the mari­ners foresight giuing timely roome therto by [Page 142] their fall deliuer the ve­ssel from the daunger of that gust whose rage now passes ouer with onely beating her with waues, for anger that hee was preuented; So the larger our estate is, the fayrer marke hath mischiefe gi­uen to it; and which is worse, that which makes vs so easy to hit, makes our wound more deepe and greiuous:Inuen. sat. 4. If poore Codrus his house burne, he stands by, and warms him with the flame, be­cause hee knowes it is but the losse of an out­side, which by gathering [Page 143] some few sticks, straw, and clay, may with litle labor, and no cost be re­payred: But when the many lostes of the rich man doe one giue fire to another, be cries out one while of his Counting­house, another while of his wardrop, then of some noted chest, and straight of some rich Cabinet, and lamenting both the frame and the furniture, is there­fore impatient because he had something.

Sect. 21.

But if there bee a­ny sorceresse vp­on earth,The va­nitie of Pleasure the third enemy on the right hand. it is pleasure, which so inchā ­teth the mindes of men, and worketh the distur­bance of our Peace, with such secret delight, that foolish men thinke this want of Tranquillity, hap­pines. Shee turneth men into swine, with such sweete charmes, that they would not change their brutish nature for their former reason. It is a good vnquietnesse (say [Page 145] they) that contenteth it is a good enemy that profiteth; Is it any won­der that men should bee sortish, when their reason is maistred with sensuali­ty? Thou foole, thy plea­sure contents thee: How much? How long? If shee haue not more be­friended thee then euer shee did any earthly fa­uorite, yea if she haue not giuen thee more then shee hath her selfe thy best delight hath had some mixture of dis­contentment; for either some circūstāce crosseth [Page 146] thy desire, or the inward distast of thy conscience checking thine appetite, permits thee not any en­tire fruition of thy ioy. Euen the sweetest of all flowers hath his thornes; and who can determine whether the sent bee more delectable, or the prickes more yrksome? It is enough for hea­uen to haue absolute pleasures; which if they could be found here be­low, certainly that heauē which is now not inough desired, would then be feared: God will haue our pleasures here, accor­ding [Page 147] to the fashion of our selues, compounded So as the best delights, may still sauor of their earth. See how that great King which neuer had any match for wisdome, searce euer any superiour forwealth, trauersed ouer all this inferior world with diligent inquirie, & obseruation, and all to find out that goodnesse of the children of men which they enioy vnder the Sunne; abridging himselfe of nothing, that either his eyes, or his hart could suggest to him; (as what is it, that [Page 148] hee coulde not either know or purchase?) and now comming home to himselfe, after the disquisition of all natu­rall and humane things, cōplaines, that Behold, all is not onely vanitie, but vexation. Goe then thou wise scholler of experience, and make a more acurate search for that which hee sought and missed. Perhaps somewhere betwixt the tallest Cedar in Leba­non, and the shrubbie Hissop vpon the wall? Pleasure shrouded her selfe that shee coulde [Page 149] not be descryed of him, whether through igno­raunce or negligence; Thine insight may be more peircing, thy meanes more commo­dious, thy successe hap­pier; If it were possi­ble for any man to in­tertaine such hopes, his vaine experience could not make him a greater foole; it coulde but teach him what hee is, and knoweth not And yet so imperfect as our pleasures are, they haue their satietie: and as their continuance is not good, so their conclusi­on [Page 150] is worse. Looke to their end, and see how sudden, how bitter it is. Their only curtesie is to salute vs with a farewell, and such a one as makes their salutation vncom­fortable. This Dalila showes and speakes faire but in the ende she will bereaue thee of thy strength, of thy sight, yea of thy selfe. These gnats flie about thine eares, and make thee Musick awhile but euermore they sting ere they part: Sorrow & repentāce is the best end of pleasure, paine is yet worse, but the worst is [Page 151] despa [...]re. [...] of the [...]rst of these, one of the latter shall [...] thee, perhaps both. Howe much better is it for thee to want a little hony thē to bee swolne vp with a venemous sting?

Thus then the minde resolued that these earth­ly things, Honours, wealth Pleasures are casuall, vnsta­ble, deceitfull, imperfect dangerous must learne to vse them without trust & to want them without griefe; thinking still if I haue them I haue some benefit with a great charge, if I haue thē not [Page 152] with little respect of o­thers I haue much securi­ty and ease in my selfe, which once obtained we cannot fare amisse in ei­ther estate, and without-which we cānot but mis­carry in both.

Sect. 22.

ALL the enemies of our inwarde peace are thus descried and discomfited which done,Positiue rules of our peace. wee haue e­nough to preserue vs frō miserie, but since wee moreouer seeke how to bee well and happily, there yet remaine those [Page 153] positiue rules whereby our Tranquillity may bee both had continued and confirmed: VVherin I feare not least I should seeme ouer-diuine, in casting the anchor of Quietnes so deep as hea­uen, the only seat of con­stancy, whiles it can finde no holde at all vpon earth: All earthly thinges are full of vari­ablenes, & therefore ha­uing no stay in them­selues, can giue none to vs. He that will haue and hold right Tranquillity must find in himselfe a sweete fruition of [Page 154] God and a [...] appre­hension of his prese [...]ce. That when he finds ma­nifolde occasions of vex­ation in these earthly thinges he ouer-looking them all, and hauing re­course his comforter may finde in him such matter of contentment, that he may passe ouer al these petrye grieuances with contempt; which whos euer wants, may be secure, cannot be qui­et. The mind of man cā ­not want some refuge▪ & (as wee say of the Ele­phant) cannot rest vnlesse it haue somthing toleane [Page 155] vpon: The couetous man, whose heauen is his chest, whē he heares him selfe rated and cursed for oppression, comes home and seeing his bags safe, applaudes himselfe a­gainst all censures: The gluttō when hee looseth friendes or good name; yet ioyes in his full fur­nish't table, & the laughter of his wine; more pleasing himselfe in some one dish; then he can be gree­ued with all the worldes mis-carriage: The nee­dy scholler whose wealth lyes al in his brain, chears himselfe against iniquity [Page 156] of times, with the con­ceit of his knowledge. These starting holes the mind cannot want when it is hard driuen: Now when as, like to some chased Sisera it shrowdes it selfe vnder the harbor of these Iaels altho they giue it house-roome, and milke for a time, yet at last either they entertain it with a nayle in the tem­ples, or beeing guilty to their owne impotency, send it out of themselues; for safety and peace. For if the Crosse light in that which it made his refuge [Page 157] as if the couetous man bee crossed in his riches what earthly thing can stay him from a desperate phrensy? Or if the crosse fall in a degree aboue the height of his stay, as if the rich man be sick or dying (wherein all wealth is ei­ther contemned; or re­membred with anguish) how doe all his comforts (like vermin frō an house on fier) runne away from him, and leaue him ouer to his ruine? VVhiles the soule, that hath placed his refuge aboue, is sure that the ground of his cōfort cānot be matched [Page 158] with an earthly sorrowe, cannot be made variable by the chāge of any euēt but is infinitly aboue all casualtyes, & without all vncertainties. What state is there wherein this heauenly stay shall not a­forde me not only peace but ioy? Am I in prison? or in the hell of prisons, in some darke, low, and desolate dungeon? Loe there,Pompon. Alger. Fox. Martyr. Algerius that sweet Martyr findes more light then aboue, and pitties the darknes of our liber­tie wee haue but a Sunne to enlighten our world, which euery cloud dim­meth, [Page 159] and hideth from our eyes, but the father of lights (in respect of whome all the bright starres of heauen, are but as the snaffe of a dim candle) shines into his pit, & the presence of his glori­ous Angels make that an heauē to him, which the world purposed as an hel of discomfort. What walles can keepe out that infinite spirit, that filles al thinges? What darke­nesse can bee where the God of this sunne dwel­leth? what sorrow where hee comforteth? Am I wandring in banishmēt? [Page 160] Can I go whither God is not? what sea can diuide betwixt him and mee? then would I feare exile if I could be driuē away as wel from God, as my country. Now hee is as much in all earthes; His title is alike to all places, and mine in him: His sun shines to mee, his sea or earth beares mee vp, his presence cheareth mee, whethersoeuer I goe. Hee cannot bee saide to flitte that neuer chan­geth his host. Hee alone is a thousand compa­nions, he alone is a world of friendes; that man [Page 161] neuer knew what it was to be familiar with God that complaines of the want of home; of friends of companions while God is with him. Am I contemned of the world It is enough for me that I am honored of God, of both I cānot: The world loue me more, if I were lesse friends with God: It cannot hate me so much as God hates it: what care I to be hated of thē, whom God hateth. He is vnworthy of Gods fauor that cannot thinke it happines enough with out the worlds? How easy is [Page 162] it for such a man▪ whiles the world disgraces him at once to scorne and pit­ty it, that it cannot think nothing more contemp­tible then it self? I am em­pouerished with losses: That was neuer through­ly good, that may be lost: My riches will not leese mee yea, tho I forgoe all to my skin, yet haue I not lost any part of my welth For if hee bee rich that hath somthing, how rich is he that hath the maker and owner of al thinges? I am weak and diseased in body; He cannot miscar­ry that hath his maker for [Page 163] his Physician: Yet my soule, the better part is sound, for that cannot be weake, whose strength God is: How many are sicke in that & complain not: I can bee content to bee let blood in the arme or foot, for the curing of the head or heart; The health of the principall part is more ioy to mee then it is trouble to be distempered in the in­feriour. Let me knowe that God fauours me, thē I haue liberty in prison, home in banishment, ho­nor in contempt, in losses wealth, health in infirmi­ty, [Page 164] life in death, and in all these happines: And sure­ly if our perfect fruition of God be our complete heauen, it must needs be, that our inchoate cōuer­sing with him is our hea­uen imperfectly; & the entrance into the other▪ which (me thinks) differs frō this, not in the kind of it, but in degree: For the cōtinuatiō of which happy society (sith strāgenes leeseth acquaintāce, and breedeth neglect) on our part must be a daily renu­ing of heuēly familiarity, by seeking him vp, euen with the cōtēpt of al infe­rior [Page 165] distractiō; by talking with him in our secret in­uocatiōs, by hearing his cōferēce with vs; and by mutual intertainment of ech other in the sweet discourses of our daily meditatiōs; He is a sullē & vn­sociable frend that wants words: God shal take no pleasur in vs if we be silēt: The hart that is ful of loue cannot but haue a busy tongue: Al our talk with God is either Suites or Thankes: In them the christian heart pours out it selfe to his maker, and would not change this priuiledge for a world: [Page 166] All his annoiances, al his wants, all his dislikes are poured into the bosome of his inuisible friēd who likes vs stil so much more as wee aske more, as wee complaine more; Oh the easy and happy recourse▪ that the poore soule hath to the hye throne of hea­uen▪ We stay not for the holding out of a golden scepter, to warne our ad­missiō, before which our presence should bee pre­sumption and death; No houre is vnseasonable, no persō too base, no words too homely, no fact too hard, no importunity too [Page 167] great: we speak familiarly we are heard, answered, comforted: Another-while God interchangea­bly speakes vnto vs by the secret voyce or his spirit; or by the audible sound of his word, we heare, a­dore, answere him; By both which the minde so communicates it selfe to God, and hath God so plentifully communica­ted vnto it, that hereby it growes to such an habit of heauenlinesse, as that now it wants nothing but dis­solution of full glory.

Sect. 23.

OVt of this main groūd once set­led in the heart (like as so many riuers from one common sea) flow those subordinate resolutions,The sub­ordinate rules of Tranquil­litie. which wee require as necessary to our peace, whether in re­spect of our actions, or our estate.1. For actions. For our actiōs ther must be a secret vow passed in the soul both of cōstāt refraining frō what soeuer may offend that maiesty we rest vpō; and aboue this, of true and [Page 169] Canonicall obedience to God, without all care of difficulty, and in spight of all contradictions of nature: Not out of the confidence of our owne power: Impotent men, who are we, that we shoulde either vow or performe? But as hee saide; Giue what thou bid'st, and bid what thou wilt: Hence the courage of Moses durst venture his hand to take vppe the craw­ling and hissing Serpent; Hence Peter durst walke vpon the Pauement of the waues; Hence [Page 170] that Heroicall spirit of Luther (a man made of metall fit for so great a worke) durst resolue and professe to enter into that fore-warned cittye, tho there had been as ma­ny diuells in their streetes as tiles on their houses: Both these vowes as wee once solemnly made by others, so for our peace must wee renew in our selues. Thus the experi­enced mind both know­ing that it hath met with a good friend, & withall what the price of a friend is; cannot but be carefull to retayne him, and wary [Page 171] of displeasing & therefore to cut off all daungers of variance, voluntarily takes a double oath of al­leageance of it selfe to God; which neither be­nefit shall induce vs to breake, if we might gaine a world, nor feare vrge vs thereto, tho we must leese our selues: The waue­ring hart that finds continuall combates in it selfe betwixt Pleasure & Con­science▪ so equally matched that neither gets the day, is not yet capable of peace; and whether euer ouer commeth, is trou­bled both with resistance [Page 172] & victory. Barren Rebec­ca found more ease, then whē her twins struggled in her womb: If Iacob had been there alone, she had not complained of that painfull contentiō: One while Pleasure holdes the fort, and Conscience as­saults it, which when it hath entred at last by strong hand, after manye batteries of iudgementes denounced, ere long pleasure either corruptes the watch, or by some cun­ing stratagem, findes way to recouer her first hold; so our part is euer atemp­ting, and euer resisting, [Page 173] betwixt both, the hart cā not haue peace, because it resolues not; For while the soule is held in sus­pense, it cannot enioy the pleasure it vseth, because it is halfe taken vp with feare; Onely a strong and resolute repulse of plea­sure is truly pleasant; For therein the Conscience filling vs with heauenly delight, maketh sweete Triumphes in it selfe; as beeing now the Lorde of his own dominions & knowing what to trust to No man knows the plea­sure of this thought, I haue dōe wel, but he that [Page 174] hath felt it: & he that hath felt it, contemnes all plea­sure to it. It is a false slan­der raysed on Christiani­ty, that it makes men dū ­pish and melancholicke; for therfore are we heuy, because wee are not e­nough Christians. Wee haue religion enough to mislike pleasures, not e­nough to ouercome thē; But if wee bee once con­querours ouer our selues and haue deuoted our selues wholly to God, there can be nothing but heauenly mirth in the soule. Loe here ye philo­sophers, the true Musick [Page 175] of heauen, which the good heart continually heareth, and answeares it in the iust measurs of ioy Others may talk of mirth as a thing they haue hard of, or vainly fancied; On­ly the Christian feeles it; and in comparison ther­of scorneth the idle ribal­dish, and scurrilous mirth of the prophane.

Sect. 24.

AND this reso­lution which wee call for,2. Rule for our actions. must not onely exclude manifestly euill actions, but also doub­ting and suspension of [Page 176] minde in actions suspe­cted, and questionable; wherein the iudgement must euer giue confident determination one way: For this Tranquillity cō ­sisteth in a steddines of the mind; and how can that vessell which is bea­ten vpon, by contrarie waues and windes, and tottereth to either part, be said to keepe a steddy course? Resolution is the onely mother of se­curitie. For instance; I see that Vsurie, which was wont to be condem­ned for no better then a Legall theft, hath now obtained with many, the [Page 177] the reputatiō of an honest trade: & is both vsed by many, & by some defen­ded. It is pittie that a bad practise should finde any learned or religious Pa­tron: The summe of my patrimony lieth dead by me, sealed vp in the bag of my father; my thriftier friends aduise me to this easy & sure improuemēt; Their counsel & my gain preuaile; my yearly sums come in with no cost, but of time, waxe, parchmēt; My estate likes it well: better then my consci­ence; which tels me still he doubts my trade is too [Page 178] easy to be honest; Yet I cō ­tinue my illiberall course not without some scru­ple and contradiction; so as my feare of offēce hin­ders the ioy of my profit, & the plesure of my game, hartens mee against the feare of: iniustice; I wold be rich with case, and yet I would not be vncharitable, I would not be vniust All the while I liue in vn­quiet doubts, and distra­ction; Others are not so much entangled in my bonds, as I in my owne. At last that I may bee both iust and quiet, I cō ­clude to referre this case [Page 179] wholly to the sentence of my inward iudge, the Conscience, the Aduo­cates, Gaine and Iustice plead on either part at this barre with doubtfull successe. Gaine informes the Iudge of a new and nice distinction of tooth­lesse and biting interest, & brings presidents of par­ticular cases of vsury so farre from any breach of charity or iustice, that both parts therein confes themselues aduantaged: Iustice pleades euen the most toothlesse vsury to haue sharpe gummes; & finds in the most harme­lesse [Page 180] and profitable, pra­ctise of it and insensible wrong to the common body; besides the infinite wracks of priuate estates; The weake iudge sus­pends in such probable allegatiōs, & demurreth; as being ouercome of both, and of neither part: & leaues me yet no whit more quiet, no whit lesse vncertaine: I suspend my practise accordingly, be­ing sure it is good not to doe, what I am not sure is good to be done; and now Gaine▪ solicites mee as much as iustice did before▪ Betwixt both [Page 181] I liue troublesomely: Nor euer shal doe other, till in a resolute detesta­tion I haue whipped this euil merchant out of the Temple of my heart: This rigour is my peace; Before I coulde not bee well, either full or fa­sting: Vncertainetie is much payne, euen in a more tollerable acti­on: Neither is it (I thinke) easy to deter­mine, whether it be worse to doe a law­full acte with doub­ting, or an euill with resolution: since that within it selfe is good, [Page 182] is made euil to me by my doubt, and! what is in na­ture euill, is in this one point not euill to mee, that I do it vpon a verdict of a Conscience, so now my iudgement offends in not following the truth I offend not in that I follow my iudgement: Wherin if the most wise God had left vs to roue onely ac­cording to the aime of our owne coniectures, it should haue beene lesse faulty to be Sceptickes in our actions, and either not to iudge at all, or to iudge amisse: but how that he hath giuen his a [Page 183] perfite rule of eternall e­quity, and truth: wherby to direct the sentences of our iudgement, that vn­certainty which alloweth no peace to vs, will aforde vs no excuse before the tribunall of heauē: wher­fore, then onely is the hart quiet, when our actions are grounded▪ vpon iudgement & our iudgement vpon Truth.

Sect. 25.

FOR his estate the quiet minde must first rolle itself vpō the prouidence of the hyest:Rules for estate. For whosoe­uer so casts himselfe vpō these outwarde thinges that in their prosperous estate here ioyceth▪ 1. Reli­ance vpon the prouidence of God. & cō ­trarily is cast downe in their miscarriage, I know not whether hee shall finde more vncertain­tye of rest, or more certaintye of vnquiet­nesse: since hee must needes bee like a light [Page 185] vnballanced vessell, that rises and falles with euery waue, and depends only on the mercy of wind & water: But who relyes on the ineuitable decree, & all-seeing prouidence of God, which can neither bee crossed with second thoughts, nor with euēts vnlooked for, layes a sure grounde of Tranquillity, Let the world tosse how it list, and vary it selfe (as it euer doth) in storms & calms, his rest is pitched alo [...]t, aboue the sphere of changeable mortality. To begin is harder then to prosecute▪ What coūsell [Page 186] had God in the first mol­ding of thee in the womb of thy mother? what ayde shall hee haue in repairing thee from the womb of the earth? & if he could make, & shall restore thee without thee why shall hee not much more (not without thy in deuor) dispose of thee? Is God wise enough to guide the heauens & to produce all creatures in their kindes: and seasons and shall he not bee able to order thee alon? Thou sayst I haue friendes, and (which is my best friend I haue wealth, to make [Page 187] both them, and mee; and wit to put both to best vse. O the broken reedes of humaine confidence! Who euer trusted on friendes that could trust to himselfe? Who euer was so wise, as not some­times to be a foole in his owne conceit, ofte times in the conceit of others? Who was euer more dis­cōtent then the wealthy? Friends may bee false, wealth cannot but be de­ceitfull, wit hath made many fooles; Trust thou to that, which if thou wouldst cannot fail thee. Not that thou desirest [Page 188] shall come to passe; but that which God hath decreed: Neither thy feares nor thy hopes, nor vows shall either for slow or al­ter it. The vnexperien­ced passenger when hee sees the vessell go amisse or too farre, laies fast hold on the contrary part, or on the mast for remedy, the Pilot laughs at his folly, knowing that (what e­uer [...]e labors) the barke will goe which way the winde and his sterne di­recteth it. Thy goods are embarked; Now thou wishest a direct Northwinde to driue [Page 189] thee to the Straytes▪ and then a West to runne in; and now, when thou hast emptyed and laded againe, thou callst as earnestlie for the South, and Southeast to returne; and low­rest if all these answer thee not: As if hea­uen and earth had no­thing else to doe but to wayte vpon thy plea­sure, and serued one­ly to bee commaunded seruice by thee: A­nother that hath con­trary occasions asks for windes quite opposite to thine: He that sits in [Page 190] heauen, neither fits thy fancy nor his, but bids his winds spit sometimes in thy face, sometimes to fa­uor thee with a sideblast, sometimes to be boister­ous otherwhiles to be silēt at his own plesure. VVhether the marriner sing or curse, it shal go whither it is sent; Striue or lye still, thy destiny shal run on, & what must bee, shalbee; Not that we should hēce exclude benefit of means (which are alwaies necessarily included in this wise preordination of all things) but perplex­ity of cares, and wrestling [Page 191] with prouidence. Oh the idle & ill spent cares of curious men, that con­sult with starres, and spi­rits for their destinies, vnder colour of preuentiō; if it bee not thy destiny, why wouldst thou know it, what needes thou re­sist it? If it be thy destiny, why wouldst thou know that thou canst not pre­uent? That which God hath decreede is already done in heauē, and must be done on earth. This kind of expectation doth but hasten slow euills, & prolong them in their continuāce; hasten them [Page 192] not in their euent but in our conceit: Shortly then if thou swimmest against the streame of this proui­dence, thou canst not es­cape drowning, euerye waue turns thee ouer like a Porckpose before a tem­pest; but if thou swim'st with the streame, do but cast thine armes abroade thou passest with safetye, and with ease; it both beares thee vppe, and carries thee on to the hauē, whither God hath determined thine arriuall in peace.

Sect. 26.

NExt to this the minde of the Quiet mā must bee to wrought by these former resoluti­ons,The se­cond rule for estate. that it bee through­lye perswaded the e­state wherein hee is,A perswasion of the good­nesse and fitnesse of it for vs. is best of all; if not in it selfe, yet to him: Not out of pride, but out of content­ment: Which who euer wanteth, cannot but be continually vexed with enuy▪ & racked with [Page 194] ambition: Yea if it were possible to bee in heauen without this, hee coulde not be happy: For it is as impossible to the mind at once to long after, and enioy, as for a mā to feed and sleepe at once. And this is the more to be stri­uen for, because we are al naturally prone to afflict our selues with our owne frowardnes, ingratefully contemning al wee haue, for what we would haue Euen the best of the Pa­triarks could say, O Lord what wilt thou giue me, since I go childlesse: The bond man desires now [Page 197] and controll na­ture. Ovaine fooles whi­ther doth our restlesse ambition climbe? What shal be at length, the period of our wishes? I coulde not blame these desires, if contentment consi­sted in hauing much, but now that he only hath much that hath contentment, and that is as easily obtayned in a lowe estate; I can account of these thoughtes no better then proudely foolish. Thou art poore? VVhat differēce is there betwixt a greater man and thee [Page 198] saue that he doth his busi­nesses by others, thou do­est them thy selfe? He hath Caters, Cookes, Bayliues, ste­wardes, Secretaries, and all other offices for his seue­rall seruices, thou proui­dest, dressest, gatherest, re­ceiuest, expendest, wri­test for thy selfe: His pa­trimonie is large, thine earnings small. If Briare­us feed fiftie bellies with his hundreth hands, what is he the better, then hee that with two hands fee­deth one: He is serued in siluer, thou in vessell of the same colour, of lesser price; as good for vse, tho [Page 195] nothing but liberty, that alone would make him happy: Once free forget­ting his former thought, he wishes some wealth to make vse of his free­dome, & sayes it were as good be straited in place as in ability; Once rich, he longeth after nobility, thinking it no prayse to be a welthy peasāt. Once noble he begins to deem it a base matter to be sub­iect▪ nothing can now content him but a croshn Then it is a small matter to rule, so long as he hath but little dominions, and greater neighbours; he [Page 196] woulde therefore bee an vniuersall Monarch; Whither then? surely it vexes him as much, that the earth is so small a globe, so little a mole­hill; and that there are no moe worldes to conquer; and now that hee hath attayned the hyest dignitye among men, hee would needes bee a God, conceites his immortalitye, erects tem­ples to his owne name commaundes his deade statues to bee adored: And not thus conten­ted, is angry that hee cannot commande hea­uen [Page 201] in to solace himselfe; The weight whereof varies according to our estima­tion of them: One hath much wealth, but no child to inherite it, he en­uyes at the poore mans fruitfulnesse, which hath many heires and no lands and coulde bee content with all his aboundance to purchase a successour of his owne loynes. A­nother hath many chil­dren, little maintenance he commēdeth the care­les quietnes of the barren & thinks fewer mouthes and more meate woulde do better; The labouring [Page 202] man hath the blessing of a strōg body fit to digest any fare, to indure any labor; yet he wisheth him­selfe weaker, on condicion he might bee wealthier; The man of nice education hath a feeble stomach, and rasping since his last meale, doubts whether he shoulde eate of his best dish, or nothing; this man repines at nothing more thē to se his hūgry plow­man feed on a crust; and wisheth to change estates on condicion hee might change bodies with him: Say that God should giue thee thy wish, what [Page 199] not for value: His dishes are more dainty, thine as well relished to thee, and no lesse wholesome: Hee eates oliues, thou garlick, he mislikes not more the smell of thy sauce, then thou dost the taste of his, Thou wantest somwhat that he hath, hee wisheth something which thou hast, and regardest not: Thou couldst be cōtent to haue the rich mans purse, but his gout thou woldst not haue; He would haue thy health, but not thy fare: If we might picke out of all mens estates that which is laudable, o­mitting [Page 200] the inconueni­ences wee woulde make our selues complete; but if wee must take altoge­ther, vvee shoulde per­haps little aduantage our selues with the change. For the most wise God hath so proportion'd out euery mans condition, that hee hath some iust cause of sorrow insepera­bly mixed with other cō ­tentmēts; and hath allot­ted to no man liuing, an absolute happines with­out some grieuances; nor to any man such an exquisite misery, as that he fin­deth not somwhat wher­in [Page 203] wouldst thou desire? Let me (thou saiest) bee wise helthfull, rich, honorable, strong, learned, beautiful immortall: I knowe thou louest thy selfe so well, that thou canst wish all these, and more; But say that God hath so shared out all these gifts by a most wise and iust distri­bution, that thou canst haue but some of these, perhaps but one; Which wouldst thou single out for thy selfe? Any thing beside what thou hast: If learned, thou wouldst be strong, if strong honora­ble, if honorable long-li­ued; [Page 204] Some of these thou art already. Thou foole; Cannot God choose better for thee, then thou for thy selfe? In other matches thou trustest the choyce of a skill­fuller chapman; when thou seest a goodly horse in the fayre (tho his shape please thine eye well) yet thou darest not buye him, if a cun­ning horsemaister shall tell thee hee is faulty and art willing to take a play­ner & soūder, on his cō ­mēdatiō against thy fācy: How much more should we in this case allow his [Page 205] choyce that cannot de­ceiue vs; that cannot bee deceyued? But thou knowest that other thou desirest, better then what thou hast; Better per­haps for him that hath it, not better for thee: Libertye is sweete and profitable to those that can vse it; But fet­ters are better for the frantick man: Wine is good nourishment for the healthfull, poyson to the aguish; It is good for a sound body to sleep in a whole skin, but he that complains of swelling sores cānot sleep [Page 206] till it be brokē: Hemlock to the goat, & spiders to the monky turn to good sustenance, which to o­ther creatures are accoū ­ted deadly; As in diets so in estimation of good & euill, of greater and lesser good; there is much variety: All palats commend not one dish, and what one commends for most delicate, another reiects for vnsauory. And if thou know what dish is most pleasant to thee, thy Physician knowes best which is wholesome: Thou wouldst follow thine appetite too much [Page 207] and (as the French haue in their prouerb) woldst dig thy owne graue with thy teeth; thy wise physi­cian ouersees & ouerrules thee: He sees if thou wert more esteemed, thou wouldst bee proude, if more strong, licentious, if richer, couetous, if health fuller, more secure; But thou thinkest not thus hardly of thy selfe Fond man, what knowest thou futur things? beleue thou him that onely knowes what would bee, what will bee; Thou wouldst willingly go to heauen, what better guide canst [Page 208] thou haue, then him that dwels there? If he lead thee thorough deepe sloughes, and brackie thickets, know that he knowes this the neerer way though more cum­bersome: can there be in him any want of wise­dome not to foresee the best? Can there be any want of power not to effect the best? Any want of loue not to giue thee what he knowes is best? How canst thou then faile of the best? Since what his power can doe, and what his wisedome sees should be done, his [Page 209] loue hath done, because all are infinite: He wil­leth not things because they are good, but they are good because hee wils them: Yea if ought had beene better, this had not beene; God wil­leth what he doth, and if thy will accord not with his, whether wilt thou condemne of imperfe­ction?

Sect. vlt.

I Haue chalked out the way of peace;The con­clusion of the whole what re­mains▪ but that we walke along in it. [Page 210] I haue cōducted my rea­der to the mine, yea to the mint of happines, & showed him those glori­ous heapes, which may eternally enrich him. If now he shall go away with his hands and skirt empty; how is he but worthy of a miserable want? who shall pitty vs while we haue no mercy on our selues? wilfull di­stresse hath neither reme­dy nor compassion: And to speake freely, I haue oft wondred at this pain­ful folly of vs men, which in the open view of our peace, as if wee were con­demned [Page 211] to a necessary & fatall vnquietnes, liue vp­on our own rack, finding no more ioy then if wee were vnder no other handes, but our executi­oners. One droupeth vn­der a fained euill, another augments a small sorrow through impatience, an­other drawes vpon him­selfe an vncertaine euill through feare; one seekes true contentment, but not inough; another hath iust cause of ioy, and per­ceiues it not: One is vex­ed for that his grounds of ioy are matched with e­quall grieuances; another [Page 212] cannot complaine of any present occasion of sor­rowe, yet liues sullenly, because he finds not any present cause of comfort; One is haunted with his sinne, another distracted with his passiō: Amongst all which, he is a miracle of men, that liues not some way disconten­ted. So wee liue not while wee doe liue, onely for that wee want either wisedome, or will, to husband our liues to our owne best aduantage. O the in­equalitye of our cares! Let riches or honour [Page 213] bee in question; we sue to them, we seeke for them with im­portunitye, with ser­uile ambition: Our paynes neede no soli­citor; Yea there is no way wrong that leades to this end: VVee abhorre the patience to stay till they inquire for vs. And if euer (as it rarely happens) our desert and worthi­nesse winnes vs the fauour of this profer, wee meete it with both handes, not da­ring with our mo­dest denyalles to whet [Page 214] the instancy, and double the intreaties of so wel­come suiters; Yet lo, here the onely true and preci­ous riches, the hyest ad­uancement of the soule, peace and happines, seeks for vs, sues to vs for acceptation; our aunswers are coy and ouerly, such as we giue to those clients that look to gaine by our fauors. If our want were through the scarcity of good, we might yet hope for pittye to ease vs, but now that it is through negligence, and that wee perish with our hands in our bosome, wee are ra­ther [Page 215] worthy of stripes for the wrong wee doe our selues, then of pitty for what we suffer. That we may and will not, in oportunity of hurting others▪ is noble and Christian but in our owne benefite sluggish, and sauoring of the worst kind of vnthrif­tinesse.

Sayest thou then this peace is good to haue, but hard to get? It were a shamefull neglect that hath no pretence: Is dif­ficulty sufficient excuse to hinder thee from the pursuit of riches, of pre­ferment, of learning, of [Page 216] bodily pleasures? Art thou cōtent to sit shrug­ging in a base cottage, ragged, affamished, be­cause house, clothes, and food will neither be had without money, nor mo­ney without labour, nor labour without trouble and painefulnesse? Who is so mercifull, as not to say that a whip is the best almes for so lazy and wilfull neede? Peace shoulde not bee good, if it were not harde: Go, and by this ex­cuse shut thy selfe out of heauen at thy death [Page 217] and liue miserabely til thy death, because the good of both worldes is hard to compasse. There is nothing but miserye on earth and hell belowe, that thou canst come to without labour; And if wee can bee content to cast awaye such immode­rate and vnseasonable paynes vpon these earth­ly trifles, as to weare our bodyes with vio­lence, and to incroach vpon the night for tim [...] to get them; what mad­nes shall it seem in vs not to afforde a lesse labour [Page 218] to that which is infinitly be [...]ter, and which onely giues worth & goodnes vnto the other? Where­for if we haue not vowed enmity with our selues if we be not in loue with misery and vexation, if we be not obstinatly care­lesse of our owne good; let vs shake off this vn­thrifty, dangerous & de­sperate negligence, and quicken these dull hearts to a liuely and effectuall search of what onely can yield them sweete and abiding contentment; which once attayned; How shall we insult ouer [Page 219] euils, and bid them do their worst? How shall wee vnder this calme & quiet bay laugh at the rough weather & vnsted dye motions of the worlde? How shall hea­uen and earth smile vpon vs, and we on them; com­māding the one; aspiring to the other? How plea­sāt shall our life be, while neither ioies nor sorrows can distemper it with ex­cesse? yea while the mat­ter of ioy that is within vs, turnes all the most sad occurrences into pleasure? How deare & welcome shall our death bee that [Page 220] shall but leade vs from one heauen to ano­ther, from peace to glorye? Goe now yee vaye and idle world­linges, and please your selues in the large ex­tent of your rich Man­nors, or in the ho­mage of those whome basenesse of mind hath made slaues to your greatnesse, or in the price and fashions of your full wardrop; or in the wanton varie­tyes of your delicate gardens; or in your cofers full of red and white earth, or if there [Page 221] bee any other earthly thing more alluring, more precious, enioy it, possesse it, and let it possesse you: Let mee haue only my peace & let me neuer want it, till I enuie you.