THE GOLDEN CABINET OF true Treasure: Containing the summe of Morall Philo­sophie.

Translated out of French & enlarged, by W. IEVVEL, Mr of Arts, of Exeter Colledge in Ox­ford.

AT LONDON, Printed by H.L. for Iohn Crosley. 1612.

To the Right Hono­rable and most vertuous Lady, the worthy Patronesse of Learning, ALICE, Coun­tesse of Darby, &c.

RIght Honorable: ver­tue was once estee­med the woorthiest shelter against the tempestuous storms of worldlie violence. But now (such is the miserie of these times) thogh she deserue most, yet is shee least desired.; and is so farre from being a Protectrix, that shee her selfe doth want a Patronage. Our pre­decessours were wont to saie,

[Page]
Vilius argentum est auro; virtu­tibus aurum.
As gold surpasseth siluer in ac­count:
So in true value, vertues gold surmount.

But those good daies are past: & the rudenes of our times giues the Lie to that worthy Sentence; saying cleane contrarie, Gold hath all the glory; and shee is the onlie goddesse: vnto whose sacred Altar each one (almost) will sacrifice his life, his soule. He that is wealthiest, now is accounted worthiest: And to bee vertuous (saie the world­lings) is not the waie to possesse ri­ches. Oculo eligunt, non animo. The eie of the bodie preuailes now far more with man, then the eie of the soule.

The glittering lustre of a pom­pous [Page] traine, drawes with it all your braue mindes, and statelie Gallants (according to the worlds phrase) when as poor forsaken Vertue shal be constrain'd Tymon-like to liue alone. They will scarce euer deigne to look on her: or if they do, it wil be in disdain; taunting at her desolate and friendless conditi­on; saying scornfullie: Is this shee that thirsteth to be the mistresse of manie followers, yet cannot pre­serue her selfe from ragged pouer­tie? Vice is so short a cut to ho­nours, pleasures, and profit (as the world tearmes them) that they dare maintaine, there needes no vertue: saying with Seneca, Cum vitia prosunt, peccat qui iustè facit. He is held most foolish; that deales most faithfully; and accounted most simple, that is most sincere. [Page] Beholde the height of monstrous iniquitie: euerie vice hath its pro­tection; but, naked Vertue wants a Patronage. Which she would wil­lingly not beg of any, but onlie of those, that are as readie to proffer it, as shee to sue for it. VVherefore, most boldlie shee addresseth her selfe vnto your Honour; beeing full of confidence (through the Sympathy of both your affecti­ons) to finde with you a plea­sing Welcom. For although shee be worthless indeede, in the pur­blinde eie of the fantastick world; yet shee is a world of worth, in the iudicious eie of your honoura­ble minde. But, Madame, when your Ladiship shall behold mee, who thus peremptorilie intrude into your honorable presence, you cannot but maruaile much therat: [Page] & my much disturbed selfe (being almost transform'd with amase­mēt) shal stand as mute as a marble statue. Yet, calling to remembrāce that old saying of the Philosopher, Neminem timendo ad summū locū peruenire, that fear is a fault in such as seek prefermēt, I shal be bold to speak, & beseech your Ladiship to accept of this poor excuse: to wit, that this my presumptiō was occa­sioned, through the fauours which my best friend hath receiued from your Honor; firmly obliging both himself & me to the dutiful perfor­mance of our best seruices. Whō, it is not to be maruailed at, if you re­mēber not among so great a nūber as your Hon. doth good vnto: for­asmuch as you register not, as most doe, an exact diary of your good deeds, in tables of brass. The opportunitie [Page] of acknowledging this our obligement, could neuer (in my weake iudgement) be fitter, then by the mediation of Vertue; who, in requital of my louing and kinde office for bringing her vnto your Palace gate, will speake vnto your Ladiship in my behalfe. And so heereby I shall attaine (I hope) to be hereafter knowne vnto your Hon: which I account the greatest part of my felicity. Madame: that heretofore hath been accounted vicious, which by too much vse is now become a custome; which is, to depaint the vertues of those vn­to whō men dedicate their books, with immoderate praises. Which I dare not attempt to doe; fearing lest my words (if it were possible) might be preiudiciall vnto your worthiness: & also lest your Hon: [Page] should haue cause to distrust the sincere truth of my spotlesse fide­litie; It being both an vsuall and a true saying: Much praising begets suspicion; and that A flattering tongue hath alwayes relation vnto a false heart. Which danger I will auoide; hauing no occasion to fall thereinto, sithence the sunne needs not the light of a candle to make it seen; nor a perfect naturall com­plexion, the disgracefull helpe of artificiall tinctures: It being most true which the Poet saith,

Fucati sermonis opem mens con­scia laudis Abnuit.
Ingenuous mindes, in all true ver­tues rich,
Doe scorne the blason of a flatte­ring speech.

That which Pomponius Mela said of Athens, may (with a modest [Page] face) bee spoken of your vertues: Clariores sunt quàm vt indicari ege­ant. So that, if anie shall looke into mine Epistle, to see what En­comium I make of your vertues, I must referre their search to the re­port of the world: which is a copi­ous Index of your honourable deeds; it being a task farre too dif­ficult for my vndertakings: for, who can paint the heauens? And againe, such commonlie doe most desire praises, as least deserue them. For in shewing their great loue of such windie puffes, what do they lesse, then giue the Lie vnto their flattering commenders? But your Honourable selfe is most directlie opposite vnto such as those: & ra­ther then you will endure it, you will strike the flatterer on the check as the Emperour Sigismond did: [Page] who thereupon being demanded by him, Why doe you strike mee; made aunswere, Why dost thou bite mee? Your Noble minde loues the substance onelie, not the outward shew; and ioyeth more in being vertuous indeed, then in see­ming so: whereby you adde one vertue more vnto your manie o­thers; and deserue exceedinglie to be praised, for not desiring it. Thus beseeching your Honour to deigne the Patronage of this small Trea­tise, I will alwaies remaine

Your Honours most humbly deuoted, William Iewell.

The Epistle to the Reader.

ALl things, for the which men labour and trauaile in this world, may bee reduced vnto one of these three points; Honour, Riches, or Pleasure: and yet not­withstanding, the greatest part of men are often beguiled of their purposes; because their election erreth in the meanes, wher­by they might attaine vnto the same. For in lieu of aspyring thereunto by vertue (which alone is able to crown their solici­tous and painefull indeauours, with the free possession and quiet enioyance of true honour, true treasure, and true felici­tie, which they pursue) they slide volun­tarilie into vices spacious and pleasant-seeming path: and (being seduced by false promises and deceitfull perswasions, to de­test the pricking thornes of penurious po­uerty, base disdaine, and irksome trauells, which encounter them in the very thre­shold of vertues path) are in fine transpor­ted through the resembling-paradise and pleasant way of all delight; such as vice [Page] [...]rotesteth the path of Ʋoluptuousnes, Ambition, and Auarice, to bee: and at length (soon enough to see, but too late to repent them of their erroneous entrance & vaine perseuerance) they are throwen headlong into a sea of sadnes, griefe, and anguish, a thousand thousand dolours, and as many millions of restlesse miseries: which they, poore, silly, and deluded igno­rants, at first did surely think they should [...]schewe. For such things as are gilded o­uer with the golden resemblance of ho­nest, pleasant, and profitable, and yet are not vertuous, will in a while (the adulte­rate out-side being worne away) appeare to be vicious, dommageable, and ignomi­nious: In such sort that vice is so much the more dangerous, and preiudiciall, by how much the more it resembleth ver­tue.

For this reason haue I spent my best endeauours, to set before your eyes that end and scope, whereunto all the actions and operations of mankinde should be direc­ted: and not that alone, but the meanes also vvhich conduce vnto it; that so [Page] their election may be preserued free from delusion, in the research and choice of true honour, true riches, and true pleasure. And these are the pretious and rich Iewels which are contained in the Golden Cabi­net of true Treasure; being diuided into twelue seuerall chapters: whose heads you may heer beholde in order following.

  • I. The description of Vertue: and of her property in man. page 1
  • II. The diuision of Vertue into four principal parts: from the which, as from their source, all other subalternate Ver­tues spring. 31
  • III. Of such things as are requisite in the acquist of Vertue, and which make a man perfectly vertuous. 43
  • IIII. Of the first effect which Vertue produceth in man: which is the know­ledge of himselfe, whereby he may bee humbled. 70
  • V. Of the second effect which Ver­tue produceth in man: which is the knowledge of vice: & of the euils which proceed from it: that he may growe in hatred and detestation of them. 95
  • VI. Of the third effect which Vertue produceth in man; which is both the [Page] Theory and Practice of Conquering himselfe. 128
  • VII. Of the fourth effect which Ver­tue produceth in man: which teacheth him to performe his duty towardes all men, demeaning himself worthily in his vocation. 147
  • VIII. The description of true Honor: and how it ought to be acquired. 167
  • IX. The description of false Honor, the true subiect and ground of conten­tions and quarrels. 190
  • X. Of the pretended ground of quar­rells, wherunto false honor serueth as a subiect, making man to be the worker of his owne destruction. 209
  • XI. The description of Choler: of the euils which proceed frō it: of the causes which produce it: of the means of cor­recting, and consequently of auoyding contentions and debates. 223
  • XII. The description of true and per­fect pleasure, wherwith Vertue accom­panieth honour, accomplishing man with all felicitie. 234

Kinde Reader correct those faults, with thy pen.

Page 24. Line 2. read mens. p. 27. l. 13. read ouerdaring rashnes. p. 32. l. 25. read Good. p. 49 l. 22. read fleshy. p. 70. read Chap. 4. p. 84. l. 16. read tamed. p. 107. l. 1. read stomack-settling. p. 256. l. for can only read only is able to.

In Zoilum.

GRin, snarl, and bark. The more to moue me, rack
Thy pois'ned passions, till thine entrails crack.
When all thy spite is spet, thou shalt as soon
Supple the hardest flint, or maime the Moon,
As wound my Minde with one least discontent,
Or crosse my wonted meanest merriment.
With settled patience, I can well endure
Thy bootlesse, bitelesse barkings; being sure,
That though thou belk-out fire, & bark-out stones,
Thou canst not scorch my skin, nor break my bones.
W. IEVVELL.

The Golden Cabinet of true Trea­sure.

The description of Vertue: and of her property in man.
CHAP. I.

MARIVS the Great, with the spoiles and pillage which he tooke from the Cimbrians, and Teutoni­ans (whom hee vanqui­shed) erected two very sumptuous and magnificent Temples at Rome, the one adioining to the other in the waie cal­led [Page 2] via Appia (where now stands S. Se­bastians gate) dedicating one of them vnto the Goddesse Vertue, the other vnto the God Honour: To the end that the Souldiers which departed from Rome; addressing themselues vnto the Warres, might alwaies remember Ver­tue, whereby they were to attaine vnto Honours stately seate, and not by any other way whatsoeuer.

And that the sence and meaning of the Temples dedications might be the better vnderstood, hee ordained that there should be built but two gates on­ly, in such sort that those which went into the warres, could not enter into the Temple of Honour but by the gate and passage of Vertues Temple: within the which there stood carued in Mar­ble, a Goddesse, wondrous glorious, and rich in beauty; but arraied with the respectless and worthless weeds of Po­uerty, enuironed on euery side with pricking thornes; signifying vnto the World, that none can attaine vnto true honor through the wanton delights, [Page 3] and tender nicenesse of the world, but rather through troublesome trauailes, and a million of cares and crosses which ought to be subdued with mild patience, alwaies persisting constantly in the intricate, and painefull path of vertue. Her torne abillament and ragged cloake of Pouerty declareth that she disdaines the glorious frailty and glittering lustre of worldly pomp, and that she rather lodgeth vnder po­uerties low roof, then in the rich arrast chamber of a Princes Court: she loues the ornaments of the soule, not the proud-peacocke deckings of the bo­die.

Whosoeuer could be so happily blest as to see her naked (said the wise man) would incontinently be inflamed with her beauty: But because shee is one of the daughters of heauen; wanting the abundance and superfluity of worldly treasures, and cannot bee intertained but by the mind and soule, nor espou­sed but by good maners and ciuil con­ditions, the least part of the world seek [Page 4] after her, by reason of the great autho­rity and respectfull obseruance which sinne-steept sensualitie and quenchless couetousnes, haue with men. For they (being so inamoted, so sicke, yea so drunke with the loue of these two former Minions) cannot loue any thing but that which is presented vnto them by the wanton election of a lustful eye and allowed by the gratefull acceptation of a couetous hart: which is the sol [...] and onely reason, that (for the most part) the body (in their thoughts) hath preheminence before the soule, and a golden purse before a proper person.

But if man could know both himselfe and it, and commit himselfe to the per [...] perfect guidance of diuine reason, he would immediately discern his blamefull errour, and plainely see that the circuling armes of the whole world imbrace nothing that is good, but vertues Then would he see the weake frailty o [...] all other things, and the permanen [...] good of neuer dying vertue.

[Page 5]There is nothing that merits to bee in equipage with her: for the acquist of her onely is truely sufficient to crown the life and actions of a mortall man, with the stile of happy, without the borrowed ayde, or desired assistance of any others. For it is by her meanes, that mans labours makes him Lord of that, which scorneth the malice of deuou­ring time, or infortunate misfortune of an impouerishing shipwrack; of that (I say) which neither fire nor sword, nor enuye, nor any chancing casualty can dispossesse him of. She warneth him, [...]ay withholdeth him from coueting or desiring that which the world ado­reth; as Greatnesse, Riches, Volupti [...], or Vaine-glory: Shee loatheth, shee ab­horreth, the sugred flatt [...]ry of obsequi­ous tongues, she alwaies charily preser­ueth her freedom, she stil is the mother of s [...]me good deed or other, doing in­differently to rich & poor, high or low, [...]cited therunto, by an earnest desire hee hath of making her selfe agreea­ble vnto God, and effecting things [Page 6] which may deserue an eternall guer­don, giuen by the liberall hand of God the Lord of heauen and earth in the world to come. Shee is also the sole di­uine and immortall qualitie in vs: she is the only heritage of the soule which is the cause of its felicity; and which maketh her possessours, truely hono­rable, truely glorious.

Her loue is feareles, without enuy, with­out iealous suspicion, without artificial and sophistical cūning: making her lo­uers so much the more happy, by how much more she is desired of thē. He that loues her most, possesseth her most: & he that knoweth how to possesse her aright, is the master of an vnualuable, of an incomparable treasure; in such sort that she hath this peculiar proper­ty, to serue as light vnto the life, tem­perance to the luxurious motions of the mind, a bridle to the affections, pa­tience against iniuries, and consolation in affliction.

She giues pleasant rest & peacefull tranquillity, (without ceasing) vnto [Page 7] the mindes and soules of all that haue her, causing them to find all the course and euery condition of their liues, re­lished with perfect sweetnes, with per­fect pleasance, with perfect content: carrying alwaies with her, her reward, her recompence. But if wee determine to attribute vnto her the vanishing ho­nours and windie praises of men for her price, her portion, wee should de­priue our selues of the priuiledge which we haue of rewarding and satis­fying our selues by our owne hands in the menaging of her treasures; & shold change the repose, which proceeds from her, into a gift of fortune, if this stipend, this reward should be deriued from the curtesie and discretion, of mortall men. For then wee should lend our couetous eare vnto the praising & pleasing applauses of their voyces, and so (flattery hauing surprised our facile beleefe) wee should sooth and delude our selues with fruitless vanity. And a­gaine; this were nothing else but to search for a beneficial reward on earth, [Page 8] which is assigned to vs in heauen, and to change the nature and quality of vertue, (which is al diuine) into a frayle and fleeting conditiō which is earthly. Vertue hath Iealousy (but tis praiswor­thy) because she will bee sincerely and solely loued: she will throughly possess our wils to auoide the perill of hypo­crisie, because shee cannot effect anie thing without our free consent. She wil subdue al rebellious vices, which assault her through the weaknes of humane frailty: and therfore al her faculties cō ­spire to maintain her forces, & to con­serue in vs the name of vertuous, wher­by we are honoured. Which name we are as soone vnworthy of, as we incline mischieuously towards any vice.

For vertue (in general) is a laudable, & constant habit, which being wroght in vs by true reason, impresseth in our vnderstanding, a perfect knowledge of the true good, and in the mind & will a free election of things, according whereunto (as it is requisite and expe­dient) wee must loue or hate, take or [Page 9] leaue, shee being the neuer-erring Di­rectrix of our affections.

This description deserueth wel to be examined, she ought (heereafter) to in­forme vs how we are to distinguish, be­tweene the true and the false, in the re­search and disquisition which we make of Riches, of Honour, and of Pleasure, which are the 3. main points wherunto al humane actions are reduced: where­fore I think it not amisse to spend both time & trauel for the declaratiō hereof.

We say that vertue is a habit, being a quality that springs from the actions of the will, and powerfull appetite of the soule, which by being often reite­rated, becomes at length firm and con­stant, and inclines our nature eyther to [...]oue a thing or loath it. To make this habite laudable then, it behooueth vs [...]o conform our selues vnto good man­ners, and that our desires bee exercised [...]owards the atchieuement of mode­ [...]ty, humility, chastity, honesty, fideli­ [...]y, humanity, affability, integrity, boū ­ [...], verity, liberality, gratitude, pati­ence [Page 10] in aduersitie, moderation in pros­perity; all which fruits, vertue produ­ceth in such as doe conforme them­selues to her conditions.

Hence it is that she cannot be eyther giuen or receiued as a gift: she must be sought by a long and a continuall ex­ercise of commanding your selfe, bri­dling your affectiōs, & pursuing good without intermission; forasmuch as discontinuance begetteth vice.

This habit ought also to be constant, to subdue al difficulties with patiēce & perseuerāce; which are the two soaring wings, that taking our minds from the fruitless contemplation of base fraile and terrestriall things, doe raise them vp aloft to the conceit and apprehen­sion, of high, permanent and celestial things, with a full-settled resolution, to possesse them; and being possest to preserue them alwaies without change. For perseuerance is the perfection and consummation of all vertues: in such sort that no man can be that, which he is not euery day. None intitle them­selues [Page 11] prudent, valiant, iust, or by the names of any other vertues, but such as perseuer with immoueable constan­stancy. For reason it selfe teacheth, that to expresse a perfect agent, it suf­ficeth to say it is a constant agent, be­cause vice is incapable eyther of stop or stay.

She worketh in vs by the shining light, which is infused into the consci­ence and mind of man from the glori­ous beames of true reason, making vs to know, that al good, al honest things, ought to be atchieued for the loue of themselues: and that a man should not so much as thinke, much lesse desire to haue, or wil to do that which is naught, dishonest and ignominious, because it is contrary vnto goodnes and vertue, which are the columnes of vertues foundation, and (to speake properly) the two obiects which shee proposeth and about which she is alwaies conuer­sant.

We saye that shee impresseth in our vnderstanding a perfect knowledge of [Page 12] the true good. But now let vs define good to be that which is desired of all, to bee beloued of itselfe, forasmuch as none would desire it were it not good. But the nature of that which is good, requireth also that it bee honest, plea­sant and acceptable.

Hee then is good which hath these blessed gifts: humanity, affability, plea­sāce, curtesie, simplicity, liberality, mo­desty, and that declares the goodnesse that is in him by his sweete and louing conuersation; dooing vnto all, such things as are both good and profita­ble. For bounty and goodness can bee no more without loue then fire without heate.

Vnto goodnes we ioine verity, foras­much as it is the basis and foundation of vertue, and whereon all things are grounded, which are, which ought to be knowne, which ought to bee belee­ued, sayd, and done, and without which nothing can subsist. It is a light which first of all is exceedingly cleere and splendent in it selfe, and which illumi­nates [Page 13] the minds & soules of those that regard her with due contemplation.

The means of seeking, and possessing this verity, consisteth in the inquisiti­on, vnderstanding and beliefe: for (it being a light, a shining, and a glorious light) it is our fault and not hers if shee be hidden, if shee be secret. Wherefore we ought to make a serious search, of her, and vnderstand her well, before we can beleeue her, before wee can possesse her. But it may bee, that the vnderstanding and minde of man is so inuelloped, so muffled with the thicke cloaking and choaking clouds of vice, that it cannot be able to giue intertain­ment vnto the knowledge of veritie, for as much as it stoppes vp the passage and entrance of the Soule, against both the knowledge and the loue thereof, detaining the spirite cap­tiue, and forcing it downe vnder the yoake of seruitude. But as light dis­perseth the clouds, and driueth a­waie darkenesse, beeing vtterly vn­able to haue any communitie at all [Page 14] therewith: so truth expelleth igno­rance, and neuer suffers any commu­nities, or hath any commerce with vn­truth. She discouereth that which is se­cret and hidden, discerning all things, by their true and proper differences: shee teacheth to know truely and cer­tainely the nature and quality of euery one, & how to iudge infallibly. Hence it is that such as worke mischiefe, are vnwilling, nay they feare to haue their wicked actions made manifest by ve­rity. And contrarily a good man is so constant, so resolutely assured in his confession, that none can constraine him to deny or disauow what hee hath done, what hee hath said; but rather shewes himselfe, nay certainely is, rea­dy to seale it with his bloud.

Verity needs not any decking orna­ments or any helpe of outward things to magnifie her worth. She taketh de­light to be naked, and effecteth many things of great moment by her pure simplicity: she will not, nay she cannot bee peruerted by the flattering elo­quence [Page 15] of false witnesse and calumni­ous testimonies: for by her nakednes (which is bright & glorious) shee quels them all, shee vtterly confounds them.

It may be that shee may sometimes be oppugned, but neuer vanquished. For to be vanquished, is to be diuerted from a former determinate consultati­on, to bee changed from an absolute­ly-intended purpose, or beeing assaul­ted to become subiect to the power of an enemie. Euen in this sort are we van­quished by the trecherous affections of a couetous and a greedy minde, ma­king vs to forsake and abandon the paths of vertue. He is truely ouercome or vanquished, that hath lost his sute or cause in iudgement: and so is hee, who being ouercome in warre eyther by strength or stratageme, becomes a seruant, (nay, seruile slaue) vnto his e­nemie.

But if any of these or the like incon­ueniences chance to be founde in ve­rity, it must then needes bee confessed, that indeed she may be foiled; nay, quite [Page 16] ouercome, by violence, by iniustice; but neuer cease to be the selfe same in substance, no more then the purest, the perfectest gold can cease to challenge the appellation of gold. It is most cer­taine that it may bee sometimes ob­scurde, and disguised, by calumnious detraction, by slanderous reproch, vn­der the face-changing visard of treche­rous falshood: but neuer can bee chan­ged into a truthless fable; forasmuch as that which is, can neuer bee translated into that which is not. If she be prosecu­ted by the persecuting hands of blou­dy Tyrants, it is not impossible for her to suffer iniurious violence, in the per­sons of those that follow her, but im­possible in her selfe: for she cannot bee inforced to submit her selfe vnto the pitty and compassion of her foe false­hood, but continues alwaies victorious alwaies triumphant. For verity subsi­steth by itselfe, and by her owne force and power, preserues her essence to e­ternity.

In like manner may we say that ver­tue [Page 17] is a habit in goodnesse which rests not contentfully satisfied, by imprin­ting onely in our minds the apprehen­sion and bare vnderstanding thereof, but giues direction also vnto our will; which wee define to bee that absolute and free facultie which onely is in our power, wherby we desire the true good, and eschew the euill by the helpfull as­sistance of reasons conduct. It is most certainly true, that the nature and qua­lity of our will, cannot tolerate it, to imbrace any other thing within the louely folding armes of earnest desire, but that onely which is verè bonum truly good; without eyther coueting or willing that which is any way euill.

But heerein lyes the cursed crosse of all, that vice and falshood become eft­soon disguised, counterfeited; and atti­ring themselues with vertues abilla­ments are often represented vnto the worldly man vnder the persons of goodnes and verity.

And againe, the affections, breaking their ranks of order, and falling into [Page 18] monstrous confusion (which is to o­bey them) doe wholely bend the cour­ses of their desires, towards that which indeede is nothing else but a vain shew, a false shadow of pretended good.

Wherfore it is most necessarily expe­dient, that she be inlightned by reasons glittering rayes, to bee instructed and directed by the guidance of vertue, in the election of that which is good, and in the discerning of that which is pure and perfect from that which is false and counterfaite: briefly, so to rule and gouerne the affections, that they obey her as dutifull seruants, following and seruing her to the atchieuement of the true good.

For indeede humane affections are settled in the minds of men, to cause vs to reioyce, when we haue beene the au­thors of any good, affecting the soul as it were with a ioyfull trumpet, and to condemne vs when we haue done euill as a sharp reuenger of the same: so that wee beeing conuinced in our selues of doing euill, our consciences being tou­ched, [Page 19] with the remorsefull feeling ther­of, are incontinently most eagerly dis­pleased, yea most vehemently incensed against ourselues, as if they sought to worke vengeance by our selues against our selues, and so heereby begetting in vs a certaine affection which is called shame; neere in condition vnto angry [...]choler, which with a cruell and a tor­menting hand inflicteth punishment [...]on our selues, to redeeme our soules from that disease. To this blamelesse [...]choler (after this sort ingendred with­in vs) may also bee added the hart-pi­ning feare of others Iudgement. And then shame and feare conspire toge­ther to effect this passion: which ha­uing taken possession in the heart, be­getteth that habit which is called blushing bashfulnes; whose peculiar property it is to feare not onely the [...]ase dishonour and shamefull reproch of euill doing, but the mercilesse [...]udgement of others also, and dif­ [...]aming censure of the common sort.

[Page 20]They are therefore the raines of rea­sons moderation, which bridle our wil from eyther declining or perseuering in that which is eyther euill or errone­ous, and by her diuine instructions conformeth vs vnto that commenda­ble habit, to cause vs to march forward constantly in al that which is insepara­bly conioyned with iust endeauours, captiuating the affections of our souls, vnder the prescript institutions of her lawes. But let it bee, that that the mind of man is stored with many sundry af­fections, as loue, hate, boldnes, feare, sadnes, ioy, hope, despaire, anger, enuy, a wicked, and a good will: yet notwith­standing vertue is neither an affection nor yet any other of the faculties of the soul, but an vsuall habit & familiar custome of doing good, through the election and desire therof, and a mean betweene the extreames of affections and passions, in such sort that a wicked or a good man is distinctly discerned by either vitious or vertuous actions, and is not (as some would haue it) des­cried [Page 21] by affections. For to man, for ha­uing eyther loued, or hated, feared or not feared, cannot bee attributed this appellation of euill or good; but hee a­lone, which feareth or feareth not, that which he ought or ought not to feare: forasmuch as hee that effecteth any thing, only by the motion of his will, without aduised and deliberate consul­tation thereof, cannot in any sort duely challenge vnto himselfe the title of vertuous: but can rightly do the same, if hee haue executed it with willing desire, hauing before sufficiently con­sulted and knowne it to be good.

In such sort that no man for eyther louing or fearing absolutely, can de­serue to bee reputed good or bad: nor merit eyther praise or dispraise, but he alone which loueth or feareth that which is conuenient or not conueniēt. Because to loue, to hate, to dare, to at­tempt, to fear, to be angry, to be appea­sed, to be melancholy, to reioyce, are all affections, which are indifferent to our soule, in such sort, as for the things [Page 22] which happely chance vnto vs, with­out electing, or considering them, wee cannot bee said to merit grace or dis­grace, praise or dispraise. And there­fore vertue is said to be a habit of doing well through a willing desire and free election, and a meane betweene the extreames of affections and passi­ons: which ought to busie it self in such sort that shee doe not onely grace the subiect wherein shee is, with the stile of good, but the deedes also which proceed from thence; as the graffe which is ingraffed makes not only the tree good whereon it growes, but the fruites also which proceed from it.

So that we may wel then conclude, that vertue is a very powerfull disposi­tion of the reasonable part of the soule, which disposeth and limiteth the vn­reasonable part with agreeable conue­niency, and decent proportion, pres­cribing vnto the affections, a well be­fitting end, whereby the soule alwaies persisteth in due correspondency, still plotting, still effecting that, which [Page 23] ought to bee done by the rules of rea­son. But this powerfull disposition (which wee may very well call diuine reason, whose princely place of resi­dence is the soule) is properly called a morall vertue, possessing the meane of the affections, depending betweene much and little, not absolutely, but in respect. For that which is absolute, is alwaies the selfe same thing in al causes and at all times: but that which is consi­dered in respect of another, falleth out oftentimes to be diuers, according to the variety of those things vnto which it is referred. As for example; If the number tenne bee too many, and the number two too few, the number sixe should be a meane in respect of the two extreames. But relating it with other numbers, it will then straight way hap­pen to bee diuers, according to the di­uers respects of the relation: as if ten miles of exercise, for remedying a dis­ease be too much, and 2. miles too litle, sixe miles therefore, will not bee per­chaunce iustly a meane: and the [Page 24] reason of this disproportion ariseth from the manifold diuersities of mans complexions: for it may be, that vnto one, sixe miles wil be too little, and to another of the same disease too much. That is called medium geometricum, a Geometricall meane, whereunto no­thing can be added, and from whence nothing can bee subtracted. And in such sort, it must bee vnderstood that vertue is the true and perfect meane of the affections of the soul, (as the num­ber sixe is of twelue) not absolutely but in respect: for, hauing a regardfull con­sideration, aswell vnto the diuersities of the estates and conditions of men, as also vnto the times and diuers occasi­ons of working, it is very necessary that this meane (wherein vertue consisteth) be vnderstood respectiuely. In such sort that being in the meane betweene too much, and too little (as sixe be­tweene two and ten) as when a man feares and loues extreamely, as well in excesse as in defect, vertue whose resi­dence is is the meane betweene both, is [Page 25] vnto the one a spurre, vnto the other [...] bridle, forwarding the defect of feare [...]s farre forth as it ought to bee, and re­presseth the excesse of loue, for feare it should proceede farther then vertues [...]ounds; obseruing the conuenient op­ [...]ortunity both of time and place. And [...]his is that which we are taught by our [...]ench Cato in these foure verses:

[...]wixt two extreames is vertue resident,
[...]irectly twixt too little and too much:
[...] nought excessiue, nor deficient,
[...]orrows of none, yet no wāts cā her touch.

Therefore is vertue said to sit in the [...]iddest of the affections, because the [...]iddle parts of all things are of greater [...]lue, farre more esteeme, then the ex­ [...]eames: and the accommodation of [...]is place, giues her more powerfull [...]eanes to resist, yea to repell the inor­ [...]nate affections of the mind with the which shee is inuironed. For sithence defect and excesse, too little and too [...]uch, are vices followers, (of necessi­ [...]e) the meane belongs to vertue; as [Page 26] the white marke in the very center of the butt, whose eminency will not suf­fer it to escape the eyes of any: And whosoeuer declineth (bee it neuer so little) eyther on this or that side, erreth. And euen as it is a point of greater dif­ficulty to touch the white then to roue round about the same: euen so it is a great deale harder, to be vertuous the [...] vicious. Vice is infinite, and therefore hath no meane, in such sort that nei­ther too much neyther too little, ney­ther excesse nor defect in vice, can make vertue; as a theefe, or a mur­therer, bee it much or little, neue [...] ceaseth to bee a sinner. For whosoe­uer is a theefe, a murtherer, an adul­terer, in what sort and measure soeue [...] it be, doth sinne continually. Contra­riwise, vertue hath her bounds, her limits, which none can passe beyond without beeing spotted with vices blemish: for as rash and presumptuous a [...] dacity is the excesse of that, which seemely and conuenient vnto manl [...] fortitude; so is heartlesse feare th [...] [Page 27] mōstrous defect of the self same thing. Wherfore whosoeuer casteth himselfe [...]oo saucily, too presumptuously, euen [...]nto the iawes of danger without coū ­ [...]el without consideration, ought not to [...]e accounted wise and valiant, but foo­ [...]ish and desperate, and hee whom feare constraines to tremble at the sight of [...]n enemy, to bee esteemed a coward.

It happeneth then, when as vertue would preserue a man from destructiō, which is procured eftsone eyther by o­ [...]er darings, rashnes, or trembling cow­ [...]rdice, she carefully retaines him with­ [...]n the limits of courageous valour, and true fortitude: As also in like man­ner, lest he should suffer shipwracke a­gainst the rocks of auarice, or perish in the quicke-sand of prodigality, shee most wisely, most louingly, directs his course throgh the passage of liberality.

So, moral vertue in generall, instruc­teth man to ouersway & command (ac­cording to the reasonable prescriptiōs of watchful prudēce) al the inclinatiōs & actions of the souls irrational parts, keeping [Page 28] them all within the circle of mediocritye: cutting off all both the excesses & defects of passions and affections, hol­ding them within the meane, betweene too much and too little; to the end that man might be preserued from errour, aswell in regard of his owne particular, as for the publike weale of humane so­ciety. For the multitude of the wise is the preseruation of the world. In like manner the vertuous onely, which through his own wil, his own election, doth vertuous actions is to bee much commended, and esteemed worthy of great honor. Wherfore whosoeuer ex­erciseth himselfe heerein, and is indued with this habit, is accompanied with pleasant delectation & sweet content, as the sunne with light, the gay appa­relled spring time with greeneness, and the choycest flowers with their fragrāt smells. For vertue marcheth still be­fore him, like an impregnable shield and an ensigne of glory: in such sort that nature hath placed nothing so high, but her endeauours can aspire [Page 29] vnto. It is shee that crowneth Kings & Princes: yea, it is she that hath sceptred the sonnes of those, whose hands haue beene galled with the spade and mat­tocke. It is shee that hath tempered the trembling fearfull heart, with bold as­surance, & giuen prudence to the rash. It is shee that strengtheneth our soules within, with assured constancy. It is she that expelleth from our hearts, the hi­deous terrour of seuere death of pining sorrows, and sense-benumming shame, wherwith the enuious endeuour to cō ­sound vs. It is she that armeth vs with cōfort, against the losse of children, of friends, of goods: and as soon as oppor­tunity presents it selfe, shee bringeth vs before dangerous hazards; but with an intent, to teach vs how to ouercome them, and lastly leadeth vs by due per­seuerance, full vnto our God, who is the absolute perfection of all vertue, and the soueraign good of godly men. Therefore let vs say,

[Page 30]
Whosoe're can vertues nakedness espye,
Wil be inamored with her presently,
Leauing fraile riches, & the worlds vaine pride
To trace her paths, that is so good a guide
Her goldē treasur's neuer wil decay:
Her honor's certain, & more bright the [...] day
Such as loue her, milliōs of pleasur's gain
And whosoe're lou'd her, nere lou'd in vain
The throne whereon she sits is verity.
She Crowns her sonnes with immortality,
To cousen and deceiue, she ne're consents
She hates base counterfeiting cōplements
She shews at first the greatnes of her pain
And yeelds content (at last) a blessed gain

The Diuision of Ver­tue into her foure princi­ [...]all parts: from the which, as from their sourse, all other subal­ternate vertues spring.
CHAP. II.

AS all the imperfections of the soule are called passi­ons, and vices: euen so their contraries which serue as remedies vnto [...]he same, are called vertues. And al­ [...]hough vertue bee alwaies one, and [...]he verie same in her selfe, and [Page 32] in respect of her selfe may be said to b [...] extream, being accomplished with [...] perfection: yet by making distinctio [...] of her proprieties, diuers appellation may be giuen vnto her; aswell becau [...] in euery good action, there is alwai [...] some particular vertue, which is mo [...] eminent then the rest as also becau [...] she produceth diuers effects, accordin [...] to the subiect wherein she is: somtime [...] conforming her selfe vnto the maner [...] conditions, and naturall inclination of such as possesse her. For this reaso [...] vertue is diuided into foure princip [...] parts, to wit: Prudence, Temperanc [...] Fortitude, and Iustice.

Prudence hath the preheminenc [...] being the first in order, as the most necessary of them all, for the moderatio [...] of worldly things, whereby man is i [...] riched with morall vertue, beeing a [...] infallible rule to square out human [...] actions by, and by the which also he may attaine vnto the vnderstanding o [...] the true God, and the election of th [...] wayes, which leade thereunto. Her of­fice [Page 33] is to consult aduisedly and chuse [...]isely that she may thereby put that in [...]xecution which vertue commandeth; [...]o wit, that which is honest, and feeme­ [...]y, not for any other end, but onely the [...]oue of the thing it selfe.

It is by her, that man is alwaies inue­ [...]ed with a well tempered disposition, [...]rudently to vndertake, and wisely to [...]xecute that, which serious and ripe de­ [...]beration, with a due consideration of [...]ll other circumstances, shall truely [...]nforme the vnderstanding to bee [...]ood.

The morall Philosophers haue at­ [...]ibuted vnto Prudence, the hauing of [...]ree eyes; memory, vnderstanding & [...]rouidence. With the first eye, she con­ [...]dereth the times past. With the se­ [...]ond, time present; and with the third, [...]hat which is to come. Likewise, the [...]rudent man, by the consideration of [...]hings past, and that which hath ensu­ [...]d them, will iudge so (in the like cases) [...]f that which is to come: and then with [...]ng (but, not seeming tedious) delibe­ration, [Page 34] will attend the time, consider the perills, vnderstand the occasions: and giuing sometimes place vnto time, and alwaies to necessity (still prouided, it be not repugnant to his dutie) wil at length, courageously set his hand vn­to the worke. For, the remembrance of things past, to the Prudent man, standeth in great steade concerning things present, and also makes him likewise to foresee the things that are to come.

He beleeueth nothing suddenly, ef­fecteth nothing in choler, or in passiō, but referreth all his actions both pri­uate, and publike, to a good end: which is, to the seruice of God, and the good of his neighbor. Temperance is a firm and constant domination of the rea­son, ouer concupiscence, and other ex­cessiue and turbulent motions of the spirit.

She preserueth in mediocrity, the desires & inclinations of the soule, re­deeming them from vices bondage, wherunto they were captiues, reposing [Page 35] them again in their former free estate. She serues as a bridle (to restraine the extrauagant courses of voluptuousnes, making a man both good and vertu­ous, euen in the middest therof. Shee serues as an abridgement of all super­fluous couetousnesse, and wanton affe­ctions, as well of the soul, as of the bo­die, and as a ruling discipline, directing vs to gouerne (by the due choice of time, and obseruation of meanes) such affections as are both naturall and ne­cessary. Briefly, she is the pillar of de­fence, the flesh-subduer against luxury, the rasor of wicked thoughts, the re­buker and chastiser of vnbridled de­sires, and the seuere mistress of wanton eyes.

On the other side, shee is the nursing mother of cleane continence, she mol­lifies the heart, and makes reason at­tend thee, as thy counselling seruant in all thine affaires. This ver [...]ue is di­uided into foure principall branches: Continence, Clemency, Modesty, and Order.

[Page 36]Continence appeares as well in the actions of sobriety, as of chastity. Cle­mency consisteth principally in par­doning offences, euen when it hath fit and conuenient opportunity to re­uenge.

Modesty is the knowledge of a com­ly demeanor, euen in time of prosperi­tye, and of vsing well the gifts of for­tune. Order consisteth in the dispo­sing of al things in their proper places, by suiteable degrees and conuenient proportions, to their well being.

Fortitude, being the third Vertue in order, is a certain immortall good, sea­ted in the power and guidance of the soule, fortified and confirmed by the diligent study of Philosophy; which importuneth man, both to chuse and effect all things by his owne desire, on­lie for the loue of the things them­selues.

She leadeth a generous and a noble spirit through the hardest things, most dangerous, and of greatest difficultie: to the end that it may augment his ho­nour [Page 37] and giue greater cause of ioy, when as he hath triumpht ouer such designes. Shee aduanceth our mindes; and infuseth into our soules, a won­drous desire of aspiring euen to the highest part of that, which is most high most excellent, most honorable, most commendable, most profitable.

Her greatest vndertakings are with­out feare: she stickes not (after sound counsell and serious aduice) to enter­prise actions full of threatning dan­gers, and to perseuere therein, with im­moueable constancye. For, Constancy is the diligēt page of manly Fortitude, and is neuer from his elbowe, though shee tread the crimson paths of warre, and march euen vp at knees in a fielde of bloud. Moreouer, none of the ver­tues can be consummated, and truely accomplished without constancy. Hee that hath one vertue hath not alwaies the other: but hee that hath this, hath all others whatsoeuer; forasmuch as shee is neuer found, but euen in the full perfection, both of the will and power [Page 38] And therefore she magnifieth her pos­sessour, making him to disdeigne ey­ther the pinch of sorrow, or the feare of death: making him to account no­thing, eyther intolerable or trouble­some, which is possible to befall a mor­tall wight; nor any thing bad, which is eyther necessary, or ineuitable. Briefly, it is the knowledge of that which ought to bee sustained, when as we fight for the maintenāce of Iustice.

This vertue is also diuided into foure principal branches, to wit: mag­nificence, Confidence, Patience and Perseuerance. Magnificence, is shewed in the atchieuing of great and excel­lent things.

Confidence appeares, when as a ge­nerous mind is indued with an assured hope of the happy successe of his vn­dertakings.

Patience appares, in the volunta­ry and continuall sufferance, which is sustained for the meere loue of hone­sty and vertue.

Perseuerance, is seene in the perpe­tuall [Page 39] Constancy, and firme continu­ance of dessignes and resolutions, en­terprised vpon good considerations by the perswasions of reason.

The fourth and more eminent ver­tue is Iustice: which we define, to bee a constant and perpetuall willingnes, of doing right and reason vnto all, with an equall and proportionate distribu­tion according to euery ones merite and desert.

Wherefore this vertue comprehen­deth within itselfe, all others whatsoe­uer; forasmuch as man should not be a­ble to discerne iust from vniust, there­by to embrace the one and eschew the other, were hee not also indued with prudence: for as much as this is a pe­culiar property, solely depending on that vertue. In like manner also hee would hardly be able to put in practise the preceps of Iustice, that is not indu­ed with temperance; wherewith hee might moderate all the passions, and particular affections of his owne minde.

[Page 40]Furthermore, hee cannot fully per­forme one of the chiefest and diuinest parts of Iustice (which is, to giue helpe and succour, vnto the afflicted & per­secuted soule, when there is need ther­of, be it in what danger soeuer) if, by re­son of manly courage and true forti­tude, he doe not contemne death, sor­rowe, griefe, and whatsoeuer else the world containes, and so to be (as neare as flesh and blood will permit) a per­fect imitatour of Diuinity.

In such sort that hee alone is to bee stiled Iust, which rendreth good vnto as many as he can, without offering in­iurie vnto any one, hauing no striuing contentions within his owne breast, re­maining a louing seruant to his God, and a gentle friend vnto his neigh­bour.

This vertue is twofold: Distributa & Cōmutatiue. The Distributiue, cōsi­steth in giuing vnto euery one accor­ding to his merit, whether it bee ho­nour, dignity, or punishment. The Commutatiue, consisteth in obseruing [Page 41] our faith, and credit in our promises & couenants; and neuer doing vnto any, that which wee would not haue others doe vnto vs.

From this generall fountaine, issue forth these foure riuers (which by an Allegory haue bene termed the riuers of the terrestriall Paradise, which al­waies water the little worlde) Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and Iustice: which are as necessary to be conioynd, and vnited in him, which desireth to be perfectly vertuous, as the separation of them would bee preiudiciall to his e­state. For no man can bee temperate, if hee bee not formerly prudent: foras­much as euery vertuous action pro­ceedeth from knowledge, and vnder­standing. In like manner man can ne­uer bee truely valiant and magnani­mous, if formerly he be not temperate; forasmuch as such a one, that is indued with a generous and an vndaunted spi­rit, without moderation would in a short season become desperate: and he that should be temperate and not cou­rageous, [Page 42] would in a short time become a coward. In like manner, Iustice with­out Prudence, and Temperance, would shortly bee transformed into bloudy Tyranny. In such sort the vertues, be­ing vnited and knit together, are all absolutely perfect: but, beeing disioy­ned once, and separated, they become feeble, & are ouerborn by the strength of vice. Wherefore these fower vertues being ordained as a sure basis, and firm foundation vnto euery one, that ear­nestly desireth to bee perfectly vertu­ous, they ought to serue him as an ob­iect and mirrour of his contemplatiō, wherein he shall not onely behold the vgly deformities and defects of nature; but also remedies against the same: to attaine vnto the which, three thinges are to be obserued by him, which shall be declared in the Chapter following.

Of such things as are re­quisite in the acquist of vertue, and which concurre to the perfect accom­plishment of a vertuous man.
CHAP. III.

THREE things ought to bee vnited and conioyned together in the acquist of Vertue, and full accom­plishment of a vertuous Man: Nature, Reason, and Vse.

[Page 44]It is the office of Nature, to incline vs, Reason to direct vs, and Vse and Cu­stome to conforme and confirme vs.

Nature in generall is a certaine infu­sed power or faculty, diuinely planted in things created; which attributeth vnto euery one of them, that which ap­pertaines vnto them, and from whence they receiue, not only a certain quali­ty of being, but of doing also, and in­gendring others like vnto themselues.

This we may define to be an instinct, and inclination of the spirit, which is naturally bestowed on euery creature, on some more powerfull, on others lesse, deriuing an operation from the Qualities of the humours wherof the Creature is Composed, which instinct inciteth and incourageth the soule to search diligently, and earnestly to de­sire that, which is good for her; being alwaies for the accomplishing of this effect, in perpetuall action, in continu­al motion: like vnto a plot of ground, which freely of its owne accord, pro­duceth all kinds of weedes being neg­lected, [Page 45] and vnhusbanded; but being carefully manured, produceth fruits that are exceeding good.

In such sort, that mans nature may not vnfitly bee likened to a balance, which is borne downe, on that side, whereon the wind beates most, if it be not the better directed by the skilfull hand of science and reason. For al­though a man couet and desire that ne­ [...]urally which is truely good, because it [...]s worthy (for its owne sake) to bee be­loued; yet notwithstanding through want of a perfect knowledge of the true good, he suffereth himselfe to be oftentimes transported, with the flatte­ring outside of a false resemblance.

Wherfore it is most necessarily expe­dient, to be timely circumspect for the forming of the natural disposition and [...]nbred qualities of yong children, euen as soone as they attaine to bee capable of reason; and then aboue all things to be curiously precise in making proui­sion both of honest, learned, and dis­creet teachers. For, euen as carefull and [Page 46] skilfull gardeners, do vnder prop their young and tender graffes, with som [...] supporting stayes or other, to the e [...] that they may preserue them straigh [...] Euen so, wise and discreet teachers sea­son the harts of yonger youthes, with wholesome counsells and good pre­cepts, thereby the better to conforme their manners to Vertues Lore: For, ha­uing had a vertuous education, both in youth and infancy, they wil at lēgth in their riper yeares, be moderate, so­ber, well staide, and temperate: and therefore such tutors are to be chosen as are knowne to be of honest and ci­uill conuersation, which will reade no­thing but the wholesome doctrines of good Authours, nor permitte their charge to frequent any companies, or busy themselues about any actions but such as beare proportion to honest birthes, and vertuous breedings. But, the greatest, and most especiall care of all, is to be had of the generous & ten­der plants of noble parents (being the principall pillars, and cheefe maintai­ners [Page 47] of the State) whose tender yeares ought to bee seasoned with frequent, dayly, nay with continuall admoniti­tions, counsells, and precepts, which may gently incite them, and dulie for­ward them, to the loue of vertue, repre­senting alwaies before their eies, the neuer dying records of their fathers deedes, whose immortall fame, honour hath registred vnto eternity, that the fresh remembrance thereof, may be­get a desire in them, of worthy imitati­on; for as much, as good education is the sourse of all bounty, and vertuous breeding the chiefe foundation of a blessed life.

A curse therfore shal attend on such fathers, as are neglectiue of their chil­drens breeding: and most miserable al­so is that Common-wealth, wherein youths education is light accounted of. This is the fountaine of rebelli­on, sedition, murthers, contempt of Princes lawes, yea of Princes them­selues, of rapine, extortion, infidelitie, heresies, and atheisme, and the like.

[Page 48]Againe, the graue Philosophers of aun­cient time, neuer thought any thing worthy so much praise as the carefull education of young children; hauing wisely considered, that good corne can neuer be reapt, except the field be well manured, and good seed sowen vppon the earth: Euen so the vile corruption of our depraued nature, of its own ap­petite more inclining vnto euill, then vnto good, is an obstinate stickler a­gainst vertue, making vse of her quain­test deuises, treacherously to vnder­mine, and with malicious subtilty to dispossesse her of the soule of man: so that no humane thing whatsoeuer can withstand such violent forces, but the vertuous precepts learnd in tender youth.

In such sort, that all those that are not (yet desire to bee) conformable to vertues discipline, ought to sollicit the Lord of heauen, and onely giuer of soule-sauing grace, with instant and feruent praiers, that his goodnes wold bee pleased to incline the motions of [Page 49] their hearts, and bend their peruerse [...]atures (forward in vice, but froward in [...]e search of vertue) towards the loue [...]nd liking of the same.

Reason assisteth vs in the prosecuti­ [...]n, as a friendly Directrix, and curte­ [...]us leader of a blinded nature: and [...]erefore is she said to be that faculty, [...]nd vertue of the soule, which is called [...]timatiue, or Ratiocinatiue, so excee­ [...]ing necessary vnto man. She it is, that [...]iueth iudgement of things imagined, [...]d apprehended by the senses, to in­ [...]rme our soules, whether they be true [...] false, and whether they ought to e­ [...]ct or reiect them, beeing good or [...]uill.

On good cause, therefore is the mid­ [...]est of the braine, assigned to bee her [...]hrone, being seated as it were in the [...]ghest, and stateliest, yea the surest [...]d strongest fortresse of the fleshly [...]ilding; to sit and sway there (beeing [...] the center of all the other senses) as [...]mperesse, and commander of them [...]. She it is, that causeth the discourse, [Page 50] and giueth Iudgement both of true [...] false. She can, yea doth discerne, bo [...] the according Sympathies, and threa [...] ning antipathies, of naturall things; [...] accordingly vnites, or separates, wh [...] ought to bee vnited or disioyned, m [...] king an absolute and a true distinctio [...] betwixt one and other: and so w [...] due and serious circumspection, [...] counting all the circumstances, [...] ferreth all things to their owne prop [...] place.

And therefore it is very requis [...] that she fully and freely enioy her proper accommodation, without inte [...] medling, intangling, or incombrin [...] her selfe with eyther the imaginatio [...] or the fantasie. Whose Iudge she ough [...] to be, eyther to approue, or condemn [...] that which she shall finde eyther to b [...] good or euill; and so to correct, an [...] detaine them from outward cours [...] with the raines or bridle of modera [...] on. For if Reason should be incombre [...] with them, confusion would beget suc [...] a trouble, that shee would neuer bee a­ble [Page 51] to iudge (as shee ought) of such [...]ings as they would represent vnto [...]er; but would be transported beyond [...]erselfe, as if shee were deposed from [...]er seate: in no other manner, then if [...]e chamber-maides should be aboue [...]eir mistris, or at least walke with her [...] true equipage. But if she remaine a­ [...]ne, in her owne proper and peculiar [...]ate free from the troublesom incum­ [...]ances of the other two, after she hath [...]ell considered and throughly deba­ [...]d with herselfe all those things that [...]e brought before her by the other [...]ses, shee will straightway pro­ [...]ounce sentence like a wise Iudge: [...]r there is none that iudgeth after [...]r decree.

Wherefore it is, that her seate of Iu­ [...]ce, is in the middest; where she onely [...]th commission to heare, and deter­ [...]ine of all sorts of Causes, of what na­ [...]re and quality soeuer: shee hath [...]rectly behind her, Memorye, in [...]ade of a Scriuener, or Secretary, [...] inrowle, and register within a cer­taine [Page 52] booke, all her ordinances and de­crees.

Euery good thing also, wherof ma [...] is capable, is preserued in the golde [...] cabinet of the soul. For this cause the [...] fore, it is very conuenient for man, [...] be well aduised in the search hereof, [...] the end that he may be able to disce [...] and not to chuse the false, and counte [...] faite, in lieu of the good & perfect, b [...] ing (only through the defect of kno [...] ing: viz. of good, from ill) oftentime [...] deluded with the outward apparance [...] fained goodnesse, which is farre fro [...] being so indeed; being only so accou [...] ted through errour and false opinio [...] by which the greatest part of men a [...] vsually deceiued, making them to pr [...] ferre imaginary, and apparant good onely of the bodye, before such as [...] reall and essential of the soule, yea suc [...] as are temporall, before eternall.

And therefore euen as our eyes a [...] vnable to doe vs seruice, or to beho [...] any thing in darkness, without the benefit of light: so haue our soules gre [...] [Page 53] [...]eed of reasons light, to helpe our pas­ [...]ge through the darknes of error, and [...]ghtles clouds of ignorance, that they [...]ay thereby gaine a power to discern [...]erity, from forgery, true good, from [...]ined good, and honest vtility, from [...] contrary.

But euen as God out of the bowells [...] his infinite goodness and mercye, [...]ath prepared for man, a farre more [...]cellent blessing, then for beasts: so [...] like manner hath his bounty ordai­ [...]ed meanes both for the finding and [...]uition of it. The difficulty of finding (whereof some accursed wretches [...]re to accuse God) doth wholly pro­ [...]ede from our owne imperfections. [...]r, the darknes of error, and cloudes [...] ignorance, which sinne hath vshered [...]to our soules, haue bene the onely & [...]solute cause thereof: from the which [...]ankinde should haue beene alwaies [...]ee, had it but persisted in the perfe­ [...]on of its first nature.

Yet howsoeuer, (notwithstanding the [...]fect wherewith the soule is so foulely [Page 54] blemished,) we alwaies doe behold th [...] naturall light and glorious lampe [...] shine brightly in the vnderstanding [...] mind of man, which is in farre greate [...] measure bestowed on him, thē on br [...] beasts. In such sort that wee haue ab [...] litie to recount the excellency thereof, by the discourse of reason: [...] shee passeth from thinges known [...] to thinges vnknowne; going fro [...] generalls to specialls, and the [...] discends to indiuidualls. And in l [...] manner, she remounts againe, by [...] same degrees from one vnto anoth [...] and so compares them all, among themselues. For as soone as the ima [...] nation hath receiued the shapes, [...] impressions of those things, which [...] presented vnto her, by the ministery the externall senses, the considerati [...] of reason immediately succeed [...] which maketh diligent inquisitiō of [...] that, whatsoeuer may be in the vnd [...] standing, both of the abundance, and the want that is there; making it to [...] turne vnto her view, the more de [...] rately [Page 55] to contemplate thereon, and [...]e better to informe her selfe what [...] is that shee hath, or hath not, how [...] is, and after what nature and qua­ [...]ty it is.

Then an on reason abstracteth from [...]sible things, things inuisible, from [...]orporeall incorporeall, things secret [...]nd mysticall from such as are plaine [...]nd triuiall, and lastly things gene­ [...]ll from things particular. After this [...]ee referres all these things, to the [...]udgement: which is the chiefest ver­ [...]e and power of the soule, which [...]omprehendeth all the other facul­ [...]es; and which is reposed in the [...]ontemplation of the Spirite, which [...] the ende of the search and inqui­ [...]tion of veritie, and as a certaine [...]nd sure respect of all other thinges, which haue beene collected and cho­ [...]en by reason, and receiued and appro­ [...]ed also by the Iudgement.

Wherefore it is, that wee say, that [...]here is a double discourse of reason in [...]an: the one in the theorique and spe­culation, [Page 56] whose end is verity, & which hauing found the same proceedes no farther. The other in practicke, whose end, for which it worketh, is good; and which hauing founde, doth not re [...] there only, but passeth yet farther forth euen vnto the Will: which is another power of the soule, of wondrous excel­lencye, which God hath endowed ma [...] with, that he might therby, loue, desire and followe that which is good, and es­chew, hate, and fly from that which [...] euill; and if he doe, or haue erred, to re­turne againe into the paths of Vertue by the helpfull guidance and direction of Reason. The will of man hath two actions belonging to the same, the first is an inclination vnto good, whereby she desireth, shee followeth, she imbra­ceth it: the second is a diuersion from e­uill, wherby she flyeth, and forceth his selfe from it.

Yet howsoeuer, it is alwaies to be vn­derstood, that reason doth not sway & dominere ouer the wil, as Princess and commander, but onely as a mistresse▪ [Page 57] to informe, and as a guide to instruct her, telling and teaching her, what is to be followed, and what to be fled from. For the will hath not any light from, or by her selfe, but is illuminated only by the shining rayes of the vnderstan­ding, that is to say, by reason, & Iudge­ment, which are conioyned with her.

Euen so the will doth neyther co­uet, nor reiect any thing but that which reason hath formerly declared, [...]o be eyther good or bad: In such sort, [...]hat the act of the will proceedes (in­deed) from her selfe, but is both iud­ged and counselled by reason, & onely borne and brought foorth by the will: which doth nothing else but put that [...]n execution, which the vnderstanding hath conceiued and iudged to bee good; or flye from that which it re­prooueth.

Wherfore if the Wil of man do con­ [...]oine it selfe with reason (which is hea­uenly and diuine) in the pursuit of ver­tue, she would gaine by this her combi­nation, to be like vnto it, and would al­so [Page 58] then, with great facility, bee able to rule and gouerne the sensuall parts which are vnder her, remaining alwaies full of ability, and power to constraine them all to obey her as their Lady and mistresse. But if the will of man dis­dainefully disesteem her, and contem [...] her counsells, and in stead of moun­ting aloft, towards that glorious seat of all admired excellency, descend to­wards the ignoble part of filthy sen­sualitye, dedicating her selfe and ma­king a league with it; shee shall then be like her lustfull copesmate, and in lieu of her commander, shall bee her ser­uant, and heereby become both base and brutish: where otherwise she might haue made that sensuall and earthly part to bee celestiall and diuine, had she chosen rather to obey Reason then passions, and preferred the heauens be­fore the earth.

Therefore it may bee said, that rea­son produceth the same effect in the soule of a Prudent man, that health doth vnto a sickly body. For, freeing it [Page 59] from all torturing passions, it doth giue a ioyfull pleasance and a sweete content in all sorts of conditions what­soeuer, making her both apt and rea­dye to all laudable and vertuous ope­rations.

The thirde that remaineth to be spo­ken of, is Vse: wherby nature is fashio­ned and confirmed in the habit of true good. Wee therefore say that it consi­steth in the continuall exercise, aswell of the minde as of the body, in the stu­die, trauell, and disquisition of honest things; for as much as that which is done once and againe, yea often reite­rated, nay continued with a pawselesse perseuerance, shall bee absolutely ac­complished at the end.

For euen as little droppes of wa­ter, by the continuance of time, doe hollow and pierce the hardest flint: Euen so good manners, and vertuous conditions, are certaine effectuall qualities which make a wondrous greate impression in the soule, by a long vse. And how [Page 60] rude, and vntractable a nature soeuer it be: yet at length, by labour and care, diligence and long custome, it is reclai­med, beeing made both attentiue and obtemperate to reasons precepts.

There are 3. points very remarque­able, whose obseruation is meruailous necessary, and of great importance. The first is to contemne slouthfulness, and eschew all dissolute conuersation. The second is to imploy the time in such things as are both honest and profitable, and to forward all our be­ginnings with due perseuerance. The third is to reape a profitable benefit as­well from the euil of our selues as from the calamities of another.

Concerning sloathfulnes, it is one of Natures monsters. Nature made no­thing idle in the world: but all things (whatsoeuer) haue continuall motion. To proue the which, our soules may serue as a sufficient argumēt, which are continually in perpetuall action.

And euen as the water that makes a standing poole is soone putrefied and [Page 61] corrupted: euen so the natures and dis­positions of those that lead their retch­lesse liues in lazye slothfulness, are quickly distempered with a sottish dul­nes; for as much as lazines is not only exceeding preiudiciall to the perfecti­on of the soule, but also a sterne ene­mie to the bodies health: for the ex­cessiue rest which is gaind by idlenes, indommageth more (by many de­grees) the sound estate of a healthfull person, then a wondrous painefull, and laborious exercise. For great and con­tinuall labours doe extinguish the heat of luxurye, and fire of concupiscence: whereas idle sluggishnes addeth fewel, and oyle, vnto the flames of them. For as much as hee that doeth nothing, learneth eyther to doe, or to thinke e­uill, or perchance both: which our poore soules are often guilty of, being not busied with some contemplation, wandring and straying vp and downe like masterlesse and vnimployed run­nagates, easily to bee diuerted from truth and honesty, and as easily indu­ced [Page 62] to follow vanitye: which causeth dayly so many contentions, and accur­sed quarrels, from whence so many murthers vsually insue.

In Consideration whereof a man ought not onely to auoide such slug­gish lazynes, but also to eschew the fa­miliar society & inward acquaintance of all those, whose conuersation is ey­ther dangerous or vnprofitable; foras­much as euill examples, and wicked designes, are great corrupters of ciuill demeanors, and onely deprauers of an honest nature: which being peruerted from what is good, there is no mis­chiefe in the world too great for their attempts, their vndertakings. For ver­tues exercises being once abandoned, idlenes transporteth man vnto a play, wherin he durst raile, and reuile his lo­uing neighbours, yea banne and blas­pheme the name of God, and at length most barbarously consume his sub­stance, and despise himselfe; and then (these things standing thus) runnes into desperate and accursed [Page 63] courses, and makes base conycatch­ing the only certainety of his future possibilities. Being nowe become a cousening Gull, hee esteemeth it no more sinfull to rob, than to doe that: from robbing hee becomes a mur­therer; and so by degrees hee moun­teth still, and neuer ceaseth till such time as hee haue attained vnto the highest top of all impiety. For one vice hauing once vndermined the soule of man, and made an entrance into it, all other vices finde the way more easie.

And as for time, (which their sleepy drowsines will not permit them to ob­serue) it is so choyce, so pretious a thing; that it is said to be, solum sine pa­ri, only that in the world which wants a parallel, hath no comparison. This time I say, cuius neque praeteritum, ne­que futurum, nostrum potest appella­ri, which beeing eyther past or to come, cannot be called ours: and the present passeth away so presently, that this moment, this pointe of time, [Page 64] deserueth rather to bee called a little little nothing, then the reall subsi­stence of any thing. In such sort that these little moment: any minutes being once lost, a serious debating with our selues at last, shal find them to be a great diminution of our dayes; whose re­demption beeing hopelesse, they doe leaue in our soules a wofull remem­brance that they once past by: and op­portunity posting by vs, & not finding vs within, or (which is as bad) not ready to entertaine her, hath left recorded in the tables of our memories (to our greatest greefe of all) that when shee proffered her selfe accompanied with good occasion in gentle curtesie, wee most vnkindly, or carelesly eyther des­pised or neglected her: by which neg­lect we purchased to our selues a won­drous preiudice: for as much as in the obseruance of her, wholy depends the full accomplishment of our affaires. For opportunity being a part of time which presenteth her selfe vnto vs, her acquaintance, nay her familiarity [Page 65] ought to bee esteemed as of great im­portance, and not so carelesly to let her passe, and in passing, lose her; for in suffering her to turne her backe, shee is past and wee haue lost occasion, which beeing once escaped can neuer be recouered: from whence proceeds euen as much blame as dommage.

If the Pilot prize windes, times, and tides conuenient for his voyage at a high rate, arming himselfe with manly courage, to withstand the angry seas tempestuous outrages, how much more carefull ought wee to bee, to make good and profitable imploy­ment thereof, towards the attaining of the knowledge and vnderstanding of the celestiall Nauigation; who are not to passe through the stormes and tempests of the sea, but the surging billowes of passions, and death-mena­cing outrages of our leud affections, which are farre worse then a thousand perillous rockes and dangerous shelfs, which euery minute, and moment of our liues, doe threaten the shipwracke [Page 66] of our Soueraigne good, if we haue no learned by long vse and custome, to direct our affections by the rudder of reason, redeeming our time, by apply­ing our selues vnto the practise of such things, as deserue commendations; to the end that by an entire and full dis­charge of our duty consummated by perseuering in our lawfull vocation, we indeuour to fortisie and forward our selues, in the attaining of such thinges that can guerd on both our actions and ourselues with an appell [...]tion of vertu­ous in this world, and of truely blessed in the world to come. The third re­marqueable point that ought to be ob­serued in the vse, is to make our expe­rience profitable, forasmuch as it hath belonging vnto it two meanes: to cor­rect our foolishnes, and increase out wisedom. The one is deriued from our owne proper euill, the other from the example of others miseries.

The first hath the more effectuall and preuailing efficacy: but that is al­waies some thing preiudiciall vnto [Page 67] whomsoeuer it happeneth; and that is the reason that it commeth still, before it bee eyther wished for, or welcome: for it cannot bee entertained without both trouble and dommage.

As for the second each one cour­teth it, both with a willing and fami­liar complement; forasmuch as his owne person is somewhat free from perill, and can behold that in ano­ther, (without hurt vnto himselfe) which may aduertise him to vertuous courses.

For the experience which procee­deth from the remembrance of others miseries, is a very powerfull doctrine to aduise vs. For it is a compendious course and an easy methode vnto eue­ry one, to discerne by the successe of others, how he ought to demeane him­selfe in the prosecution of businesse of [...]he like condition.

It may then bee concluded from this discourse, that euery good begin­ning (next after God) proceedes from nature, the happy progresse, and am­ple [Page 68] increase from reasons precepts, and the full accomplishment thereof from vse. In such sort then, to make a man perfectly vertuous, these three things must conspire together. For nature without reason, and vse, is like vnto a good field that lyeth like a barren de­sert, being neglectiuely left vnmannu­red. Reason without nature and vse, is like vnto seed that neuer springeth vp, because it was neuer sowne vppon the earth. And vse also, without nature & reason, is like vnto a good labourer that picketh strawes, or takes lesse paines, onely through want of ground and seede. And euen as a good parcell of ground produceth many bad weeds which destroy and quite choak vp the good and profitable fruites, if it be not carefully preserued and husbanded: E­uen so a well disposed nature, by bad in­structions, will soone bee corrupted and become pernitious: as on the con­trary, hauing had wholesome educati­on, and vertuous nourture, it will produce most excellent fruits; which [Page 69] vertue begetteth in all those, that doe conforme themselues vnto her disci­plines. For she is neyther dead, nor bar­ren in them: as it is most euidently de­clared, by the sweete and comfortable effects which shee produceth in a ver­tuous man, leading him friendly to the palace of perfection, whose entertain­ment is a happy blisse.

The first effect that ver­tue produceth in man: which is, th [...] knowledge of himselfe; whereby he may be h [...]m­bled.
CHAP. V.

IT is the knowledge of him­ [...]lfe that hee may thereby [...]scend by degrees vnto the [...]wl [...]dge of the soue­raigne good. For it is the duety of [...]ud [...]n [...] man, to looke into the natures of things and inquire their [Page 71] causes, to the end that he may finde the diuine reason by which they subsist; and hauing found it may also serue and adore the same, and afterwards deriue there from, both pleasance and profit.

In such sort that euery one that set­ [...]eth his Soueraigne and chiefest good, [...]n any thing that is fraile, and corrup­ [...]ible, and whereof he taketh ioy but for a little time, may be more truely said, to possesse a soule replenished with molesting thoughts and restlesse per­turbations, then, with quiet content & peaceful tranquillity; and so conse­quently, laboureth alwaies with a per­petuall error, and blinde ignorance without beginning without end, with­out felicity: whereas the soueraigne good, (whereunto vertue still attaineth) is a lasting and permanent beatitude, which comprehendeth within it selfe, what good soeuer man can wish, and that whereunto man forceth himselfe to aspire to make himselfe thereby blessed for euermore.

Therfore whē we say that it behoueth [Page 72] him to know himselfe: that is, he ought to be carefull for his soule, preparing her, to the knowledge of God his Cre­ator, who framed him, after his owne Image, to the end that we may thereby as in a mirrour, contemplate on his in­uisible diuinity, the efficient cause of all wisedome and goodnes: & that by the knowledge of the Vertues with the which God hath inriched the soule of man, he might vnderstand how much he is obliged vnto his maker, knowing that he hath nothing of himselfe, but hath receiued all from God aboue; and so addressing himselfe vnto him, make a reference of all his actions vnto his glory, beeing the onely cause of his es­sence and sole mainetainer of his exi­stence.

To begin therefore to know God, we ought to haue a knowledge of our selues, to vnderstand what wee are, and to what ende wee were ordai­ned.

But the perfect knowledge of our selues (which harboureth in the soule) [Page 73] is so combinde with the knowledge of God (which is mans chiefe and soue­raigne good) that they cannot be tru­ [...]y and perfectly accomplished the one without the other. For in the one, wee behold God the Creator, and preseruer of the world, who made al things ther­ [...]n, for the vse of man, and man onely for himselfe, creating and forming him for this onely cause, after the simili­tude and likenes of himself, Iust, holy, good, and vpright in his humane na­ [...]ure, the which hee did compose of soule and body.

Of a soule inspired by God with [...]pirit and life, indiuisible in respect of [...]t selfe, and yet distinguished in the ef­fects thereof; which are her natural fa­culties, to wit, vnderstanding, memory, and the will.

Of a body, perfect in its own nature, [...]ormed of the earth, composed especi­ally of three principall parts, to witte, essence, life, and sense; whereunto the vegetatiue, and sensitiue soule serue as the middle, betweene the body, and [Page 74] the spirite, for a knot and connexion of those distances, which were so farre asunder.

And againe for the coniunction and vnion of the soule of man with gods diuinity, it hath another middle, ordai­ned by God himselfe to stand between these two extreames; which is called, abstraction, or a separating intelligēce which is nought else but a heauenly grace sometimes working on our vn­derstanding, thereby to instruct vs; o­ther times, vpon our wil, thereby to in­courage vs vnto good. In the first place we call it intelligence: In the second remorse of Conscience. In such so [...] that it is by her, that all good fortune happeneth vnto vs, when wee obserue and beleeue her; and on the other side▪ all euil fortune, when we carelesly neg­lect her.

Therefore O man know thine Originall,
And brauely scorne base cel [...] o [...] earthly seede;
Sith thou shalt shine [...] h [...]auens glorious hall,
And art by birth a heauenly plant indeed.

[Page 75]Which is to bee vnderstood of the mans first knowledge, created by God [...]o make him partaker of immortality, [...]nd permanent felicity: and so to haue [...]lorified his Creatour, had hee not so [...]afely defaced his Image.

In the other, we consider man fallen [...]om so great a good, of his owne free­ [...]ill, for his ingratitude and disobedi­ [...]ce: so that he is vtterly despoiled of al [...]he precious ornamēts of grace which [...]e receiued from God in his Creation; [...]nd all manner of iniquity and sen­ [...]all vncleannes, haue entred into his [...]ule, and dispossessed Iustice and San­ [...]tity.

For the which earie-tingling, nay [...]ule slaying trespasse, hee forth-with [...]ecame a slaue to sinne & death; from [...]hose tyrannous bondage hee can ne­ [...]er be freed by any other meanes but [...]y the world sauing satisfaction of [...]im, who is made vnto vs, through the [...]race & mercy of the euer liuing God, Wisedome Iustice Sanctification, and Redēption. An incomparable treasure, [Page 76] such as neyther flesh nor bloude could euer haue coniectured. For it was not reuealed vnto any, sauing vnto the members of the mysticall body of this Redeemer, whom the Philosophers of the ancient time did neuer knowe.

But, if it haue beene discerned at any time by some who in the erroneous o­pinion of the world, haue bene accoū ­ted wise, or to haue liued vertuously in regard of other men, it cannot be said that God hath regenerated them (to speake properly) that beeing the gifte onely peculiar vnto his children: but it hath beene so, because it hath pleased God to represse and quell the fruites of their vitious nature, without tearing vp the very roots themselues that they might serue for the conser­uation of estates, and families in the world, euen as it hath beene best plea­sing to his will. And againe, wee can­not any way imagine, that there hath bene any age, so monstrously wicked, that hath not brought forth some men of very eminent vertues, which [Page 77] might serue to be a shining light, a day-starre in their times. Yea, there hath bene founde, a greater number of those which haue attained vnto the perfecti­on of a vertuous life, then of those which haue benewicked in the highest measure. God alwaies making heerein his bounty, and power to appeare, to haue the vpper hand aboue his ene­mies: also without the same, the world could neuer haue indured long.

But wee may say, that all these com­mendable and worthy vertues are no­thing else, but certaine ruinous re­ [...]iques of the image of God in man, which are left there behind, to no o­ther end and purpose but to make vs vtterly inexcuseable in all things, and which produce none other effects in vs, besides the performing the office of a glasse, which healeth not at all, but onely makes vs to vnderstand, and know our blots and blemishes, our re­prochfull disgraces and disreputations with the God of heauen, so much the better, by how much they are more [Page 78] Crystal [...]e, more cleare.

Certainly then, it is a thing much to be deplored, that humane vnderstan­ding should be disunited from a diuine intelligence. All her beleeuings are but toyish vanities; all her discourses but absurdities. She very often contradicts her selfe and being puft vp with vain glory and ouerweening presumption, voluntarily forsakes the shining light and burning lampe of the true good, to imbrace errour and blinde ignorance.

For this cause therefore, the source, and fountaine of infinite mercy, ha [...] bene pleased, to suffer one little twink­ling sparkle of light to remaine al­waies in the soule of man, which might push it forward, to the loue of verity, with an earnest desire to follow after it, because it often pricketh and spurreth him vp, not suffering him to sleepe and slumber in the lap of vice: which little, weake (and scarce liuely) spar­kle beeing somewhat increased by the wind of motion, and ayded also, [Page 79] and disposed, by the grace, vertue, and power of the Author of all good, doth inuite and allure nay prouoketh and eggeth him being regenerated by the holy spirite (hauing truely discer­ned, and vnderstood his owne estate, what hee is and that hee ought to dis­please himselfe) to inquire diligent­ [...]y, and feruently to thirst after that goodnes, that Iustice, whereof hee was depriued: and that glorious liberty which he had lost.

The same heauenly grace addeth [...] blessing to his holy desires, making his soule to sucke into it, the doctrine of life, thereby to represse, and cha­sten, all lewde passions, and vicious inclinations; cleanely purifying it, from all turbulent motions: Lesso­ning him also to accept in good part, [...]he fraile infirmities of the flesh, onely [...]s louing and fatherly castigations for his sinne, and necessary meanes to exercise himselfe in vertuous actions, [...]eeing held-in therewith as with a [...]ridle.

[Page 80]In such sort that man by the know­ledge and vnderstanding of himselfe, hath very great meanes and occasion [...] both of humbling and aduauncing himselfe.

Of humiliation, by the apprehensi­on of his owne vanity, peruerse fraile­tye, and vile corruption, in which estate hee ought to displease his carna [...] humours, and in some sort despise him­selfe, when as he shall behold engraue [...] in his owne conscience his perpetual ruine, and vtter desolation. And of glo­rifying himselfe, hauing by this mea [...] ascended vnto the knowledge of Go [...] his Creatour, and Redeemer (which succeedeth the other inseparably) an [...] so most constantly to assure himselfe that millions of his miseries may be salued by the meanest of his mercie [...] whereof he could neuer finde a reme­die, no not a lenitiue, to redeeme b [...] a minutes sadnes, in himselfe, when by a true and vnfained humility, he dispo­seth himselfe to the receipt of grace which maketh him able to participate [Page 81] of that glorious immortality and end­lesse felicity, whereof his soule was rob­bed by sinnes tyranny.

But because there is nothing in the whole world, more full of difficulty [...]hen to know our selues, because the [...]oo too well conceiting selfe-loue which we beare towards our selues, and our owne actions, blindeth the eyes of our vnderstanding, in so strāge a man­ner, that we cannot behold the incum­bring vices of our soules, and soule im­perfections that ouerflowe within vs, & which so runeth our eares with such [...] sense-bereauing flattery, that we most wondrously sottish, thinke our selues [...]o inioy a farre more full fruition of sense tickling pleasure in listning to [...]he fawning flatteries of such as wrong [...]s, then vnto those (which without dis­sembling) would fully acquaint vs with [...]he trueth it selfe. All which things be­ [...]ng considered, it is thought requisite [...] before wee conclude our determined purpose) summarily to anatomize the misery of man, and to giue a methodi­call [Page 82] direction to bee followed, whi [...] shall teach vs the onely perfect way [...] the knowledge of our selues. With o [...] the which, it is a thing most imposs [...] ble, for any to attaine vnto true hum [...] lity.

First of al then we ought to be mo [...] familiarly acquainted and haue an requisite knowledge of the corruption of our own nature, by the remorse a [...] feeling which euery one ought to h [...] in his owne conscience, to constrai [...] him (whiles he too forwardly ouer [...] neth, with a disdainful & sharp cēsu [...] eye, all the particular actions of o [...] men) to return home againe at last [...] to himselfe and take a suruaye of [...] owne sinnes. For as long as wee cha [...] out some pretty pleasant fault fro [...] our selues, (saying each one hath [...] fault, and this is mine) and so compa [...] it with the notorious imperfections [...] some vicious man, we presently ma [...] greate esteeme of our vertues, and thir [...] our actions worthy imitution.

But if we descend from these pro [...] der [Page 83] cogitations, and in sober sadnes en­ [...]er into a due contemplation of our [...]rst form, which bore the resemblance [...]f God himselfe, and make a collation [...]herof with the estate which man is [...]ow in, then shall wee bee enforced to [...]onfesse that the first plant of mākind, [...]as wondrous full of exquisite and ad­mired excellency, but now the glorie [...]erof is vtterly defaced; and from be­ [...]g like an Angell, is become like a [...]e [...]st full of sauage rudenes, or rather [...]ke a forsaken desert, all ouergrowne [...]ith thornes and thistles.

Man being considered in the estate [...]f his creation, as he was in the full in­ [...]grity and heauenly perfection wher­ [...]ith God innobled his soule, in the Worlds begininng; thē should he haue [...]st occasion to bee esteemed the Me­ [...]opolitan, chiefe Prince and Com­maunder of all the Creatures of the World: But beeing considered as he [...] to day, and in the estate where into [...]ee is fallen, declining from the com­ [...]andemēt of God his Soueraign Lord [Page 84] by his proud ambition, then shall h [...] be adiudged the most miserable of th [...] world, and farre inferiour vnto al God [...] Creatures.

O most lamentable and hea [...] change, that man created after God owne Image, a companion vnto An­gels, crowned with honour and glory Lord of the earth, Citizen of Heauen one of Gods Domestickes, and an In­heritour of all celestiall happiness, by a change, a sudden change, should bee found all naked, miserable, poore, [...] pittifull creature, yea a thousand thousand times more wretched then th [...] beasts which he had lamed.

For indeed we durst not affirme th [...] wee are now (in regard of our human [...] nature) in any thing more excellent then the brutish beasts. And if wee would iudge of the truth, as wee are taught by reason and experience, was must needs confess against our selues that they in very many things do [...] much outstrip vs: as the harmelesse Doue in pure simplicity: the diligent [Page 85] [...]nt, and painefull Bee in labour and [...]dustry: the gentle Storke in kind hu­ [...]anity: the Dog in loue, and firm fide­ [...]ty: the Oxe and Asse in memory and [...]membrāce of good turns: the Lamb [...] mildness: the vndaunted Lyon in [...]agnanimity: the Cocke in watchful­ [...]ss: the Serpent in prudence: & all in [...]enerall in content and sobriety.

And if perchance he doe surmount [...]me one in a good nature and vertu­ous disposition: for that againe he sur­ [...]ounteth all others in hatred and ma­ [...]e. For he is more trecherous, more [...]uell then a wolfe, more crafty then a [...]xe, prouder then a peacocke, more [...]xurious, more vngratefull then a [...]ogge, and farre more dangerous then [...]poysonous aspe.

Besides, all the most wicked impie­ [...]es (if it be not vnlawfull to term them [...]) which are found but particularly in [...]uers brute beasts, (and which pro­ [...]ed in them also, from the necessity of [...]ture, without hauing eyther Iudge­ [...]ent or free election of will, for the [Page 86] perpetration of them) are found al too firmly inherent in the depraued soule of man, and euery one of them in the highest degree: and for the fuller ac­complishing of them (if it be possible) there is heither industry, nor affectiō, nor will, nor ought else whatsoeuer, which shall not be rackt to constraine the same, to performe its best inde­uours.

And shall we then vaunt, and boa [...] of our Iudgement and reason, whe [...] there is nothing besides a misty error and a clowdy darknes? Or of our fre [...] liberty, or rather licentious loosene of our will? And of our eyes placed [...] the highest watch toure of the little world, thereby to discerne a farre o [...] and discerning eschew all vanity tha [...] would besiege vs? And of our tongu [...] which steadeth vs in nothing, but lying slandering and blaspheming? An [...] of our hands, which are most imployed as our chiefest instruments for the and murther? And of our feete, which in the paths of sinne, are (as Mercurie [Page 87] full of feathers; but in the paths of ver­ [...]e turnd to lead? And lastly, of al the [...]ther parts and members of the Body, [...]hose diligent indeauours in lewde [...]xercises, make them seeme to bee as [...]uicke apprentises, or nimble pages to [...]niquity.

And so in this manner then we haue miserably altered and changed that which God gaue vs, wherewith to im­ [...]race vertue (but most especially to magnifie & praise his glorious name) [...]nto the seruice of Sathan, of the world of sinne, and of our owne concupis­ [...]ence.

But if when the resemblance of the worlds Creatour appeared in vs by the [...]lumination of our spirits, and by the [...]prightnes of our (then) wel tempered affections, wee had some occasion of glorifying ourselues in him: now also [...]t being through our defect so mon­strously defaced, or at least so inuello­ped with darknes, and obscurde with clouds that the traces therof can hard­ly be distinguished; haue not we then [Page 88] as great, nay a farre greater reason of humiliation; and the more especially for that the image of the Diuell hath succeeded it, who being a murtherer, and the father of lyes, hath nothing within the compasse of the earthly Globe, that more resembleth him then wretched man, who is now naturally cruell, proud, and a lyar? I would wil­lingly aske, if man beeing in this sort disarrayed of the garments of grace & gifts of God (hauing not any thing whereof to boast, and yet most pro­fusely boasteth) should not truely me­rit a publique and general detestation, and that al other creatures should con­spire together to vpbraide him with his owne arrogancy?

In the course then which he is to ob­serue, he should not imitate the Phari­see but the Publican; to the end, that hauing by our selfe-obseruing, truely informed our soules of our miserye, we might forthwith make our recourse vnto humility, which onely maketh vs capable of the perfect vnderstanding [Page 89] of our owne estate; and so consequent­ [...]y cōming before the throne of God [...]erforme dutifull obeisance vnto his [...]oly name as well for our Creation, [...]s also for all other good gifts, which [...]ee dayly and howerly receiue from [...]is bountifull and liberall hand, es­ [...]cially for spirituall and heauenly [...]ings, which we alone enioy & not a­ [...]y other creature whatsoeuer. And [...]herefore if we haue receiued any such [...]racious gift from God aboue, it must [...]e disrobed, that wee may attaine vn­to the consideration thereof being na­ [...]ed and in its own proper nature, with [...]he more facility. For man is neuer [...]eerer vnto a diuine contemplation, [...]hen when hee meditates on humane [...]ailety. Whosoeuer coueteth to bee [...]ood, must first beleeue that hee is [...]aught. For there are not a fewe that [...]eceiue themselues heerein, with the Pharisee; who thinking thēselues, Pru­ [...]ent, Iust, Liberal, Magnanimous, and Temperate, do ouerswell with self-con­ [...]eit, and glorifie themselues, as if they [Page 88] [...] [Page 89] [...] [Page 90] had gained all these vertues, by their owne industry: Although there be not any man that possesseth any thing, which hee hath not receiued (as a gift) from heauen.

Knowledge and vnderstanding, to­gether with all the other vertues and ornaments of the soule; as also the quaint proportiō of the body, strength and agility of the limmes, the sweete feature and beautifull complexion of the face, are nothing else but precious Iewells and high-prizde treasures, which God hath liberally bestowed on man, to the end that his creatures be­ing so richly arrayed, both in the exter­nall abillaments of the body, as also in the internall trickings of the minde, they might be the greater honor vnto his Maiesty.

Wee hauing then nothing in our selues that deserueth glorye, the consi­deration heereof is very auaileable to­wards the knowledge of our selues; sithence as often as wee regard our Creatour, who is our supporting main­tenance, [Page 91] we shall straightway proceed in iudgement against our selues, accu­sing the infinit defect of our owne per­fection.

The last and chiefest obseruation which is to bee regarded, (a question being proposed of knowing ourselues) is to imagine how wee are reputed in the Iudgement of God.

For euen as the innocency of any accused person, is neuer truely dis­cernd till such time as hee haue beene soundly sifted by the subtill examina­tion of a rigorous and wise Iudge: So in like manner, none of vs all can true­ly discerne what we are our selues, till such time as wee haue passed the strict examinatiō of Gods Iustice, who onely knoweth the secrets of the heart. It is hee onely that hath all the infallible informations of our whole life, and that can discern our priuy▪ thoughts, counsells and most hidden desires of our harts, according to the which we are to be eyther iusti­fied or condemned.

[Page 92]Adde heereunto, that it is hee alone, that is free from all such affections, as auaile much in the corrupting of Iudgement: for which reason, it is hee that is onely fit, onely sufficient to bee a Iudge vnto all the World. Where­fore, euery one ought to commit him­selfe vnto him, not thinking himselfe vertuous and honest, vntill such time as his neuer-erring sentence haue ap­prooued the same. If wee take this course, it wil (questionles) much deiect our high-touring and supercilious thoughts: For if wee bee possessed with a suspicious iealousy of mans Iustice (which is dayly subiect to corruption and abuse; and that there is no man so absolutely innocent when hee percei­ueth himselfe called into question, and his reputation in a ticklish hazard of Iudgement, but imagineth that hee is not so truely cleare and his innocence so great, but that hee may bee found culpable in one thing or other, if all his dessignes be sufficiently examined) what shall we doe then when we consi­der [Page 93] that God is our causes Iudge? who by reason of his infinite wisedome, cannot bee eyther ignorant or forget­full of the deepest thoughts and most secret imaginations of our hearts, nor alter or dissemble any thing by reason of his euer constant and vnchangeable will.

Then am I most certainely assured (if wee remember his manner and rule of Iudgement) that we shal both know and acknowledge our best estate to be but dust and ashes, and that the swelling and proud humour which we concei­ued before, of our owne vertues, will suddenly bee quelled, and the ambiti­ous admiration of our owne worth transformed to hate: Our shame alasse will bee too too great, being like vnto a poor tottered lagragge, that beholds his owne beastly nakednes [...] in the Chamber of Presence of a King or Prince.

Therefore, hee shall bee tenne thou­sand times happy, that in the middest of his greatest affaires, setteth alwaies [Page 94] before his eyes, the true vnderstanding of his owne nature, to the end, that by the knowledge of himselfe, he may as­cend by proportionate degrees vnto the knowledge of his Creatour. There­fore let vs say,

Whosoere the knowledge of himselfe can gain,
Nothing that to be knowne from him can passe:
The meanes whereby to the may attaine
Is to behold his soule in Wisedomes glasse.

The second effect that ver­tue produceth in man: which is, the knowledge of vice, and of the euils which proceed from it.
CHAP. V.

THE second effect of Ver­tue, is to teach him to know vice and the inconuenien­ces proceeding thence: for not to vnderstand any thing thereof, hauing beene made senselesse with long continuance & alwaies pampered [Page 96] with the carnall pleasures of voluptu­ousnes, is filthy beastliness, and an ig­norance (much to be lamented) of such things as ought especially to be vnder­stood of him, that would leade a vertu­ous and an honest life; that by the an­tithesis or comparison of Vertue with her most repugnant opposite, hee might esteem her farre more amiable, and hate vice with a greater detesta­tion;

Which is a rothing: an infirmity:
A restlesse trauell: a priuation:
A griefe that doth torment the memory:
A liuing death: an imperfection.

For as Vertue is the life of the soule which causeth her felicity; euen so is Vice the death thereof: Forasmuch as it smothereth, nay quite extinguisheth the shining light of diuine reason.

The one hath nothing else but good­nes and verity for her foundation: and contrarily the other, hath nothing for her supportance but mischiefe and ly­ing, [Page 97] which may (very deseruedly) bee called the cherishing fosterers of ac­cursed vice, forasmuch as from this marriage as from their source, proceed all sorts of errours, and impiety. For as to haue the inioyance of goodnes & verity, is to bee indued with a qualitie, that is alwaies in action, alwaies brin­ging foorth effects: euen so mischiefe and lying, are certain qualities, alwaies in action, alwaies labouring without in­tercession, for the production of Vice.

But if euill be a defect of good, and lying falshhood a priuation of verity, what then is vice? being an extreame passion wholely destitute of the assi­stance of reason, and consequently, a continuall trauaile without repose, and a perpetually tormenting angariation of the minde. For presently assoone as vertues motion ceaseth, vice is at hand to take possession.

Which swelling bigge, and daily gaining strength,
Incroacheth on the soule and marres the mind:
Bereauing man of reasons ayde at length,
Who Pilotlesse, is tost with euery winde.

[Page 98]Her first and chiefest care is to charm our credulous senses with her inchan­ting pleasures; and hauing well rooted her wicked selfe within our harts, doth straightway captiuate our resistless wil, making her a seruile and a base bond­slaue vnto the affections and passions of the soule: which hauing depriued her selfe of Reasons Pilotshippe (by falling at variance with herselfe) is in­forced to leaue her (now wretched and miserable) selfe, to bee transported vp and downe, according to the extraua­gant desires of sensualitie.

But anguish is the boone that she retaines,
To guerdon those that are her deerest minions.
Her pleasures are but briefe, endlesse her paines.
Such hate her most that are of sound'st opinions.

In like manner, the soule that con­senteth vnto vice, makes her selfe an e­quall sharer of all the crosses and cor­ruptions that proceed from it. Hence it is that shee is alwaies so ouerfraught with repining sadnesse, iealousy, vaine hope, despaire, inconstancy, and a [Page 99] thousand foolish imaginations, which continually beget so many errours, so many crimes, so many disobediences & disloyalties, against her Soueraigne, forming & framing al (both) thoughts and actions directly against his will: In such manner that (being depriued of the gift of grace) shee runneth wil­fully into the obscure dungeons of mischiefe and errour, fully opposit and contrary to her owne naturall quality and condition, which takes delight in nothing more then light and verity.

Beeing then destitute of true vnder­standing, shee chuseth rather the euill then the good, and falshood then veri­ty. Miserable and wretched conditiō of man! which suffereth himselfe to bee thus transported vnto vice, which hee ought so much the more to hate, by how much the more inconueniences, and greater infelicityes it bringeth to his soule.

This tree of death hath 3. sprouting branches, euery one whereof spreads it selfe into many great boughs, the fruits [Page 100] wherwith they are abundantly loaden, are all sorts of vices and impiety.

The first of them is Auarice, the root of all euils, forasmuch as the nature & quality hereof is an earnest desire and an endlesse coueting of all the riches and treasures of the Worlde: which be­ing congested in an huge heape, haue a powerfull vertue to withdraw the eye of the soule, from the soule, to it, or at least so to blind the same, that shee shall neuer bee able to per­forme her duety, her honour vnto God, nor the well intended actions of her owne Conscience.

Of Auarice there are two kinds: the one is pinching, nigardly, sordide, sot­tish, and brutish: of which sort is that, which possesseth the hearts and minds of those base and monstrous misers, who for feare of losing the siluer and gold, (which oftentimes they enioy, not through their owne labours and industry, but descended vnto them closely enwrapped in a chest of iron from their couetous fathers & grand­fathers) [Page 101] doe with a sollicitous and pen­siue care imprison nay timorously in­tomb it, within the secret bowels of the earth for feare of wasting or dimini­shing it. Yet vnto such as these are, their greedy and insatiable auarice neuer begets a iot of profit, neyther to them­selues nor their successours, forasmuch as the desire of increasing ingendreth in their corrupted and dunghil-minds so strange a humour of sparing, that they cannot finde in their consciences, more then resistlesse and peremptory necessity constraineth, to prouide bread for their euen famished bellies, or conuenient apparel to hide their na­kednes; but dayly feede themselues on browne bread and potage, and make their best liquor a cup of cold water. All their labours and industries, all their pleasures, all their content, and chiefest felicities, consist in the con­templation, admiration, & idolatrous worship of this their sweete Saint, their good, their God, which they euerie moment of time, warme, cherish, sit a [Page 102] brood on, both with the eye of the bo­dye and of the soule, not vnlike vnto the Tortoyse who burieth her egges in a heape of sand. They are such cruel tyrants & merciless enemies to poore nature, that they will not lend vnto themselues, eight or tenne angels to worke their owne redemption from a detested prison, neither would they by any meanes whatsoeuer, be induced to bestow any thing in procuring a medi­cine for their greatest malady. And in this ridiculous and strange manner passe they ouer their wretched life in a voluntary pouerty, that after their death they may be stiled rich.

The other is more violent and ra­uenous then the former, which (in some sort) may be said to be contented with what it hath; whereas this, is al­waies tortured with a desire of hauing more: which still increaseth with his ill-gained gold, not respecting in the scraping in of it (so it be haue-able) ey­ther frō what men, or by what meane.

In such sort, that whosoeuer are o­uertaken [Page 103] by this passion, may be truly said to haue but a poore conscience. For thus hee debateth with himselfe: What? shall the impiety of the action deterre my soule from the prosecution of mine owne commodity? No: On, and faint not: The sinne is but on af­frighting bugbeare and a toye in res­pect of the gaines that are gotten; ma­king a subtill (but diuellish) separation, betweene honest and profitable, in such a fashion that neither shame nor feare can represse or repell his coue­tous cruelty.

Of this kind there are also two sorts. The one is ambitious: as when one man desireth to surpasse all others in lands and substances, by what at­tempts or passages soeuer. F [...]in the pursuit of such a prize, nothing shall bee refused that may be helpfull.

This kinde of couetousnesse is full of daunger, and especially if it bee in such as haue authority, and pow­er. For hauing force and conueni­encie within the lists or compasse of [Page 104] their owne armes, they haue (by way of consequence) a very commodious and facile meanes of vsing violence, and extortion, towards the increase of their golden dunghils; not with an in­tent and determination of sparing par­cimony, as the former, but of lauish & profuse luxury, & of hauing wherewith to furnish their magnificence, & boūd­lesse liberality so that (reference being made vnto this) it is not so much to be discommended, as that which com­meth after. For this hath (I know not how) a generous disposition; and the other following, a violent and insatia­ble passion, which killeth downright as many as are vnder the iurisdiction and power of its commaund, with sorrow, care, anguish, and trauell. For shee will driue them through fields and woods, through thicke and thinne, by sea and by lande, in winter and sommer, night and day, through hot and cold, with­out the allowance of one poore mi­nutes rest. And after this manner will she inforce them to gather riches and [Page 105] treasures, with paines and perill, berea­uing them presently of the right vse of them: for couetousnesse increasing, pleasure is diminished, nay quite taken away. O truely miserable and vnhappy condition! Sithence man is neuer so blessed, hauing the full fruition of all his desires, as he should bee, if he would not desire at all. For if the desire of ha­uing, bee not limmited with reasons bounding pillars, which haue Ne plus vltra engrauen in them, it is farre more full of danger then pinching pouertye, because great desiring bree­deth great want, and is no more allay­ed with with purchased treasures, then flames are quenched with wood and oyle.

For, the desire of hauing, doth al­waies increase by the hauing of things desired. The medicinable remedy which hee searcheth after in siluer and gold, for the qualification of his mala­dy, doth nothing else but increase his miserye.

Chests and coffers, purses and pou­ches, [Page 106] bagges and budgets may in time bee filled; but the insatiable de­sire of a couetous man can neuer: for the bottome of the sea is not so deepe as it.

The couetous man neuer regardeth what content hee might deriue from the substance which he possesseth; but how wel he should be, had he but some great matter which hee hath not: and therefore presseth he all his indeuours by day, & care by night, for the com­passing of that, which had, tormenteth him.

This also is the most miserable, most detestable passion, that euer lodged in the heart of man. Other desires are capable of sariety, and so by conse­quence, of quiet comfort. But this is as farre from eyther, as the earth from Heauen.

The luxurious belly-god absteineth sometimes, from a palate-pleasing morsell, because he hath already ouer­gorged his stomack: and the swinish drunkard loathes (now and then) your [Page 107] sparking Claret, stomack-setting Sack, or some neater wine, because his hogs­head belly, is ouertunned already: but the couetous Vulpone is neuer satisfi­ed: so infinitely great are his desires, that they are without satiety, without end. His heart is like the Ocean, whose banks (though all the Riuers in the world flowe into the same) are neuer the fuller. And briefly this is Tantalus, who standeth full in the midst twixt water and apples, yet starueth with hunger and thirst.

In such sort, that whosoeuer is in­fected with this passion, becomes in­satiable, inhumane, subtill, enuious, curious, a lyar, iniust, dishonest, disloyall, faithlesse, a Villaine, a De­ceiuer, a Theefe, a Traytour, a false witnesse, periured, couetous of ano­thers goods, and a wicked wretch vn­to his liues end.

O poor couetous wretch, who would not deplore thine infelicity, beholding thee so cruelly tormented, so pittifully tortur'd by the merciless executioners [Page 108] of thine owne goods, and so much the more rackt and strapadoed by reason of that which thou desirest? The earth yeeldeth thee no such fruits: but the seeds which couetous & greedy desire hath sowne in thy care-furrowed hart, spring vp, and produce sullen sadnesse, perplexed thoughts, anguish, griefe & vexation of spirite. Thy plaints and groanes are without intercession: thy frequent exclamation is, What shall I doe? Thy plaints declare thy paines, and thy demand the want of a lenitiue for thy languishment. O cruell, O strange passion I little or nothing dif­fering from raging madnes: Reader I referre thy desire of reading more heereof, to the fift chapter of S. Iames, who pronoūceth sentence against the couetous man.

Ambition is the second branch, be­ing the very next neighbour vnto aua­rice. It is a desire, (inherent naturally in the soule) of hauing an apparent glo­ry, and eminent superintendency a­boue other men. It is not alike in all [Page 109] sorts: but in some greater, in others lesse, according to the variety of their humours, and differences of their spi­rits: for such as are endued with a more subtill acuity, and liuely nimblenes of apprehension, hauing also more lofty and doughty harts, somewhat eleua­ted aboue the vulgar pitch, and are humourd with nothing more, then with the attemptings & vndertakings of your waightier affaires, and matters of greatest aduentures, are much more subiect vnto this then others.

In this accursed poyson was Adams soule first steeped, by the deceitfull ar­tifice of Sathan: wherwith being drun­ken he durst aspire vnto Diuinity, not (by the assistance of grace) recoun­ting the vnspeakeable benefits which hee receiued from his Creatour; but not contenting himselfe with his e­state and the signiory of the whole v­niuerse, which God hath bestowed on him ouerall the Creatures of the earth and sea, and ayre, was inflamde with an vnquenchable desire of making him­selfe [Page 110] equall vnto God, who iustly in­censed against him, (as well by rea­son of his presumptuous daring and sawcy boldnesse, as also for his vn­thankfull and a thousand times worse then brutish ingratitude, debased him so much the more, by how much the higher he coueted to aduance him­selfe; constraining both himselfe and all his cursed broode to liue in such a sort, that (now) resistless necessity com­pelleth them to cry out, and to con­fesse themselues to bee but men.

Behold therefore what thy first fa­thers ambitiō hath gained thee: which aboundeth in vs so much the more, by how much the higher we straine to ex­alt our selues aboue the spheare of our place and calling. For the excessiue, and immoderate desire of glory is in glorious: And then especially it meri­teth a double blame, when for the sa­tisfaction and content thereof, it skil­leth not, whether our endeauours bee eyther honest or dishonest, iust or vniust.

[Page 111]It is very vsuall amongst ambitious men, neuer to finde any condition of life more distastefull then their owne present: and that is the onely reason why they so much wish for that which is to come. To the atchieuing whereof they alwaies both shuffle and cut, tum­bling al things vpside downe, bringing in one change in the neck of another, and neuer cease vntil such time as they haue attained vnto the ending period of all their lewd desires.

Ambition onely in Caesar (as in di­uers others also) destroyed in him the richest, and most admired ornaments of nature, that euer had existence in any mortall Creature, and made his remembrance bitter and odious, for assaying to purchase glory, prizde at the ruine and destruction of his Country, which was the wealthiest, and worthiest Common wealth of all the Worlde.

Alexanders ambition was the decay of the eastern world: And for one Alex­ander that hath euer gained anie thing [Page 112] by his ambition (yet with the preiudice of his reputation amongst good men) there are many millions that haue wrought their owne ouerthrowes: At Pompey, Iulius Caesar, Marius, and in­finite more both auncient and mo­derne. When the Poets fained Icarus tumbling headlong into the sea, for at­tempting to flye vp vnto the heauens with wings of waxe; and Phaeton, who was violently throwne down from the skies, when he vndertooke to gouern his fathers horses and the Chariot of the sunne, carrying it round about the world: they intended nothing else, but to declare thereby, that ambitious acti­ons, haue wicked ends.

She promiseth vnto a man a world of felicities, but payes his expectation with sorrows and repentance: She pro­miseth Crownes, but payeth Crosses: shee exalteth and placeth him on the top of a pinnacle, but to this onely end to cast him off, and to breake his neck downwards: for the ambitious thoghts of gayning glory (wyping cleane from [Page 113] the memory of man what hee is and ought to be) doe make him hate and a­bandon actions of dutye, transpor­ting him (too easily seduced) beyond the bounds of reason and equity, and so (ere long) his owne dissignes are the first that consult against him, and his owne counsells that procure his ruine. From this source springeth vp Pre­sumption, Pride, Arrogancy, Ingrati­tude, Atheism, Infidelity, Iniustice, Te­merity, Vengeance, Disloyalty, Perfi­diousnes, Oppression, Tyranny, Trea­son, Rebellion, Factions, Seditions, Di­uisions, Quarrels, Contentions, and a thousand of the like mischiefes, which ruinate Families, Cities, States, King­domes and Empires.

In regard whereof, we must obserue that Ambition is the principall vice, that the worthier persons are carefully to beware of. For euen as the wood, by how much the finer and purer it is, is so much the more subiect vnto worms and mouldiness: Euen so (wee see) that the more generous and noble minded [Page 114] personages, are ordinarily more in­clinde, more addicted vnto this passi­on, vnto this desire, then others are.

Neyther yet is it mine intent to con­demn, or somuch as to reprehend that ambition or desire of honour and re­nown, which men are to haue to liue in the world, with worthy reputation & esteeme, & is atchieued by the perfor­māce of some high attempts & hono­rable deeds vertuously done; whence may accrew profit and commodity vn­to the cōmon good of the weale pub­lique: but this vain-glory, which some labor to inioy by the mediatiō of such actions, as are partly vnlawfull, partly ridiculous; or this temporal Honour, which is attributed vnto things which haue alwaies bene, & are yet at this ve­ry day, by a vain and false opiniō estee­med admirable amongst men; or a cer­tain renowne & glory which they pre­tend to acquire, more by a seeming & counterfaited Vertue, then by that which is so indeed. For vertue will not permit any that follow her, to bee dis­comfited [Page 115] by vaine Ambition: but ra­ther to know and acknowledge sin­cerely, with an open heart, the slender meaneness of their poor abilities, ther­by teaching them to haue an humble and lowly demeanour, in the vertuous acquisition of true honour; and not to make any dependance or hopefull re­lyance vppon the vniust and trustlesse purposes of vice: which by false ho­nours, vain pleasures, sloath and coue­tousnes, drowns all her fauorites in a sea of miseries.

Voluptuous sensuality is the next that followes: which is nothing else but a smooth tickling & delightful mouing of our carnal appetite, at the very instāt whē it doth long for the thing desired.

It is ingendred within vs, by the knowledge which we haue of the beau­ty, the harmony, fragrant sauor and pleasant sweeteness, of those things which our heart wisheth for. But seeing there is no man that can be saide to inioy a dureable reioycing in the tran­sitory actions of voluptuousness, men [Page 116] doe oftentimes indeauour to reiect the same, that they may thereby gaine vn­to themselues the quiet fruition of som small content: but they assay it to a fruitlesse end. For after a long reitera­tion of one and the same things, their desires are cloyed with the vse thereof: and then in stead of receiuing some content they finde nothing but satiety and a hatefull loathing of that they so much wished for before. In such sort, that voluptuousnes, is nothing else but an immoderate irregularity in its be­ginning, a defectiue want in its pro­gresse, and in its end a distastefull bit­terness.

And then againe; how many heart-burning molestations, shall the minde be tortured with, before this imaginary shadow of felicity can be attain'd vnto How many and great trauels, how ma­ny heauy perplexities, how many in­stant griefes, how many importunate sorrowes, how many tedious lothings and odious detestations shall interpose themselues betweene man and his de­sires! [Page 117] Is it not true, that as soone as ple­sure and voluptuousnes haue mastered man, in the selfe same moment of time sorrow and griefe, anguish and annoy­ance, trouble & vexation of spirit, hang ouer his head? And by how much the more the Iudgement is infected with this vice; by so much the more wicked, and violent, are the affections, and the number of them so much the more increased: which doe not onely preiu­dice the internal faculties of the soule, but hinder also (in a high measure) the health and safety of the body.

For, from what cause proceede there so many noysom and corrupted humours, so many incureable yea strange and vnknowne maladies, as from voluptuousnesse, and those ac­cursed pleasures, which wee purchase alwaies vnto ourselues with the soules perill, and oftentimes with the destruc­tion of the body which being obtaind, bring with them (without faile) a thou­sand thousand occasions of sorrow & repentance, for one of perfect pleasure [Page 118] and true content.

Sadnes, sullenness, melancholy, des­paire, dolefull pensiuenes, and all other kinds of woefull discontents, are not these the choycest flowers and god­liest shady trees of thy voluptuous Pa­radise? Are not the Crystall teares, that trickle from thine eies, and Crimson drops of bloud distilling from thine heart, the pleasant bubbling fountains of the same? Are not thy griefes, thy groans, thy sobs, thy sighs, thy lamen­tations, the eare-inchanting tunes, the warbling melody, & sweetest shrilling musicke of the pleasant groues?

O case, O most vnhappy case [...]as truly lamentable as it is strange; and then which, nothing deserueth more, our most serious and considerate deli­berations, thereby that wee may bee lessoned to know the greatness of our miseries, and the corruption of our Iudgement, and to change our errone­ous opinion whereby we striue to per­swade our selues that there is no other content in the worlde, but that, which [Page 119] may be attainde vnto, with the satisfac­tion of our depraued desires. Whence it is, that wee preserue with all possible care, and feare of losing, that, which finally is to vs, the onely cause of our owne destruction; and by louing wher­of, we separate our selues farre off from the loue and pursuit of such riches, such honour, and such pleasures as are truely perfect, truely certaine. Thus then may wee see that vertue is soone drowned in the midst of pleasure.

In this onelie point the Couetous man becommeth prodigall; and the Ambitious man tumbling headlong from one extreame vnto another, li­ueth like aswine in voluptuous sensua­litie. For the vnbridled desires of the voluptuous can not haue any conten­ting satisfaction, or determinate end: because that inioying one pleasure for a little while, they (shortly) desire, and wooe a greater, a quainter and a more ticklish delight: & so their wishes (being voide of firm resolution & setled con­stancy) creep stil groueling forward, til [Page 120] they fall into the searchless depth of disastrous calamity.

Man through vnlawfull irregular and immoderate pleasures, growes to bee Intemperate, a Gourmandizer, a lickorous, a sweet-mouth'd compani­on, a drunken tossepot, an incontinent lecher, whoorish, adulterous, prodigal, effeminate, cowardly, impudent, slaun­derous, sloathfull, lazy, a gamester, a poore snake, a penurious starueling, & in the end a miserable wretch.

So then, the euils that sprout from these three branches, (as from their stock) are linked one vnto another (as it were) with a massye chayne, which draggeth man vnto all kinds of impie­ty whatsoeuer, (the end of one beeing the beginning of another) neuer lea­uing him, vntill such time, as they haue brought him full vnto the gates of hell. For vice is alwaies blinde, and runneth heedelesly into apparent dan­gers: Shee inticeth man to assay all sorts of villanies: shee is more full of perils then the miserablest chance that [Page 121] can befal a man: She makes him accur­sed within, that is in the outward shew a blessed man. For indeed shee is no­thing but a glorious-outsided sepul­cher stuffed within with wormes and rottennes.

She beeing masked vnder the false appearance of vertues ornamēts, doth oftentimes beguile vnwary man, len­ding his eare too attentiuely to her in­chanting phrases, and heart-beguiling flatteryes; in such sort, that by her cunning subtiltie shee induceth his de­sires to couet that which they ought most to fear, to loue what they should hate, and follow what they should flye from: blinding him in such a fashion, that hee (poore credulous wretch) esta­blisheth all his felicity in the frail frui­tion of earthly vanities; neuer imagi­ning that hee, that settleth his hope of happiness in them, is neuer without a soule, full stored with restless distur­bances, and torturing vexations; and so by consequence is nothing else but in perpetuall seruitude vnto his owne [Page 122] passions.

Wherefore there is no danger or af­fliction whatsoeuer that can befall a mortall man, but is better to bee vn­dergone, then to suffer himselfe to be made a slaue to vice; sithence it is the most cruel detestable Tyrant that can be imagined in all the world: such a one as neuer giues one minute or mo­ment of repose and quiet, vnto the hea­uy soule wherein it harboureth. For howsoeuer she vnderprop his sitting or lying, with soft cushions or pleasing pillowes, thinking by these nice and dallying flatteries to sooth and smoo­ther-vp his painefull languishment & so to lul his charmed thoughts asleep yet questionless the soule of him shall alwaies be found full of anguish, hor­rour and confusion. The lewd and vici­ous man experienceth vs, that it is a great deale harder to worke actions of impiety then of godlines. For the vi­cious man in the resolution of wicked purposes is much disturbed by the re­morsefull pleadings of his owne con­science; [Page 123] which cannot be adiudged the meanest torment: for it cryeth on him without intercession;

More of thy selfe, then others be asham'de.
Thy selfe art most wrongd by thine owne offence.
And of thy selfe, thy selfe (first selfely blamde)
Must giue account to thine owne Conscience.

It is also a great trouble to search out lurking corners and secret nookes, which may serue as retyring couer­tures to his mischieuous actions. But how closely soeuer he cloake his wick­ednes, he feares to be descried euen in darknes it selfe: inasmuch as hee bea­reth alwaies within him a tel-tale con­science, which (being notable by any bribes nor by the world it selfe to bee suborned) will absolutely bewray his impious deedes: Crying on him conti­nually;

Thou labour'st much, and tak'st great paine in wast,
To hide thy fault. For none could er'e preuaile,
Nor shalt thou now: for t'will appeare at last.
For from himselfe, who can himselfe conceale?

[Page 124]Finally, admit that sinne bee both conceiued and borne, yet sweet mean must haue sower sawce, and one plea­sure must bee purchased (or not had) with a thousand paines and as many perills: yea hel it selfe is within the con­science. For the law of duty pronoun­ceth, It is vnlawfull to doe euill. And presently the Conscience produceth at once all the testimonies that can be, the Information, the Iudge, the Con­demnation, the Executioner, and the punishment. The law of Honor trum­peteth out by the mouth of Fame, the reproachfull shame and shamefull re­proach of base dishonour, condem­ning the remembrance both of the vice and of the vicious man. And yet againe this is the worst of all, that the death and destruction of the body is not the last affliction to a wicked man For if death did bring vnto man (as to the bruit beasts) an absolute priuation of all sense, and a totall annihilation of the soule, certainely the vicious should enioy a farre greater aduan­tage [Page 125] then the vertuous, in the fruition of all their wishes, and desires (in this [...]fe) and not be punished in the world to come. But the Iustice of the Euerli­ [...]ing God pronounceth most clearely and with a high voyce,

The longer that a wicked man doth liue
Without repentance, so much the more paine
He shall endure (where God will none forgiue)
In hell, which God for such did first ordaine.

For God doth not punish all wick­ed offenders, in the earth; to the ende that all might vnderstand that there is a future iudgement, in the which, al the impious actions, and mis­chieuous intents of wicked men shall receiue vengeance. As also hee rewar­deth not all good men, with temporall blessings, here in this lower World; to the end that all should knowe that there is another place where God will reward the patience of the vertuous with a Crowne of glory.

Againe: God doth not inflict his pu­nishments on all the wicked; neyther [Page 126] yet bestoweth he blessings, or bene­fits outwardly on al the good: for fear lest it might be imagined that the ver­tuous followed and imbraced vertue through hope of receiuing a reward and for the sake of an earthly blessing▪ and that they eschewed vice, for feare onely of the worlds punishment. For by this meanes, vertue should bee no longer vertue, forasmuch as there is no action that can truly challenge this glorious appellation, if the agents in­tention regard the hope of an earthly recompence, and doth not atchieue the same for the loue of vertue onely, that thereby he may be rendred agree­able vnto God, who alone is able to crowne his deedes with euerlasting blessednes.

Accursed then is the condition of al wicked men, their liues are lamenta­ble, & their deaths miserable; sithence vice depriues them of that most excel­lent good, which vertue bestoweth on such onely, as doe conforme them­selues vnto her discipline.

[Page 127]
[...] vs discouer Vices cousenage:
[...]d then its loue will soone be turnde to hate.
[...] Vertue will our soule so much engage,
[...]at th'other will seeme harsh and out of date.
[...] not astonisht Reader, if thou tread
[...]tht full of griefe and seeming misery.
[...]e waies with bitter anguishes are laide,
[...]at Vertue trauells; not with voluptie.

The third effect that Ʋer­tue produceth in Man: which is, both the theory and practice of con­quering him­selfe.
CHAP. VI.

THE third effect, is both the theory and practice of o­uercomming our selues. Which renowned and vi­ctorious Conquest, we ought to striue so much the more courageously to at­taine [Page 129] vnto, by how much the more we know our natures strong, and despe­rate in the eager resistance of our as­saults; sithence all the rebellious pas­sions, and lewd affections which are within vs, are so many proclaimed-traiterous enemies, which by a treche­rous insurrection against Reason, their dread Soueraigne, will racke their a­bilities (at the highest) to conquer man, and so to ransacke and robbe the poore soule, of its tranquillity which is her chiefest & most pretious treasure.

Well then, sithence whatsoeuer in­citeth vs, is eyther passion or affecti­on, aswell that which setteth vs for­wards, to the acquist of Vertue, as that which compelleth vs to imbrace vice, (according to the naturall disposition of euery one) wee may conclude, that our passions and affections are the true declarances of what we are, forasmuch as there is nothing (whatsoeuer) in vs, whereunto wee are more obsequious then vnto them, bee it in the vnderta­king of actions eyther good or euill.

[Page 130]Wherefore there is nothing that a Pru­dent man ought to take greater heede of, then to keepe them alwaies obedi­ent vnto reason, neyther whose con­quest can bee more glorious then the subduing of his owne affections, not more dishonourable then to yeelde vnto them.

To this end therefore, vertue tea­cheth vs, not to depriue our selues of wishes and desires; but that we should continually represse and master them for there is no man how stupidous & dull soeuer, that is not sometimes moued with the delights of pleasures, and touched now and then with glory and honour.

For Nature being very precisely cu­rious as well in beeing magnified by propagation, as also, in being conser­ued in her perfect estate, by the ho­nourable atchieuements of a vertuous life, hath stamped in our soules, a de­sire of delight, and a ticklish reioycing in corporall pleasures: in the fruition of which, wee are sure, to giue vnto our [Page 131] selues, too too licentious a scope, if the moderation of Reason doe not inter­rupt vs.

On the other side also, Nature hath imprinted in our hearts a great desire of praise and glory: as well because this [...]ast desire, should resist the disorder of the former, through feare of blame [...]nd imputation, which is neuer separa­ted from a too voluptuous life, & dis­ordered pleasures; as also that it might serue as wings vnto our wils, whereby they might desire, and soare aloft vn­to the glorious, and celestiall palace of Vertue, where Honor also is inthro­ned with state and maiesty: and so heereby we might at last attaine vnto that end, for the which we were at first ordained by our Creator. Yet notwith­standing, this is the difference between our two appetites: The former beeing sensuall, may bee defaced in a vertu­ous man by a long and a continuall exercise of commaunding himselfe, and his tumultuous passions; rendring them obseruant, and dutiful homagers [Page 132] vnto Reason, whereby they may bee made conuenient, and capable of all good purposes, that there shall not re­maine in him, the least iot of an extra­uagant motion. Euen in such sort, that being so vtterly extinguished by tem­perance, there shall be left no more ap­pearance of their being there, then if they neuer had bene there at all.

The second cannot be so vtterly ex­tinguished but the print thereof will still remaine in all men generally. For a good man desireth to bee honored for his Vertues: and although he seeke not after glory through ostentation; yet doth he not despise deserued prai­ses, or at least vseth his best indeuors to be worthy of the same: and for the hauing heereof, his owne merit doth appease his minde.

On the other side: the wicked man deceiuing himselfe, aswell in the know­edge of Glory, as in the disquisition of the same, may bee more fitly saide in respect thereof to flye from it, then to follow after it. And the feare of be­ing [Page 133] blamed, and branded with base ig­nominy (he alwaies iustifying himself) maketh vs to discerne most palpably the great desire he hath to be accoun­ted vertuous.

Both of them tend then towards the prize of honour and reputation. But hauing attainde vnto the angle of Pythagoras, in the which both good and bad actions meete together: the one trauaileth towards the right hand, and the other turneth towards the left; and so the ends of this their progresse are no lesse diuers then their waies are different wherein they walked. For de­sire is the counterpoise of the soule, which maketh it incline and weigh downe the balance on that side, in the which the will is placed.

But because our desires are very dif­ferent, and are not equall in facility & ease, man doth oftentimes deceiue himselfe in making choyce. For vo­luptuousnes and sensuality follow vs continually, they accompany vs at all times, & in all places, they offer them­selues [Page 134] vnto vs, they court vs louingly, and the meanes to enioy them is ve­ry easie. Againe they promise vs de­lights, pleasures, rest, content, honour and liberty. So that indeed there needs a great deale of constancy to preserue our silly soules from ruine and destru­ction: and which sugred perswasions to withstand, we are not onely vrged & pricked forward with shame & feare of reprehension, but also established & confirmed by the glorious exemplary deeds of such as are truly generous.

Contrarily, honour is distanced a great way from vs: and besides, the path that leadeth vnto it, is maruailous straight, laborious & painful. Whence it comes that the way (which is onely one) is hard to keepe: it is as toylsome and slippery as can bee possible. The path of Vertue (through which such as tend towards Honour are to passe) is full of pricking thornes, affrighting terrors, tedious irksomnes, and grie­uous anguish. It is subiect to the op­probrious obloquies of backbiters. [Page 135] And last of all, the accesse thereof is so difficult, that it meriteth almost to bee called impenetrable.

Man therefore, when constantly re­soluing with himselfe, to proceed al­waies in that path which leadeth him to the stately palace of true Honour, (maugre all painefull and dangerous occurrences whatsoeuer) bequeatheth all delicious sensuality, and voluptu­ous pleasance, vnto the delicate, neat, spruce, effeminate and sweet faced wo­mans-man; and wholly dedicates him selfe and his indeauors vnto the gau­ling labours and (almost) intolerable trauailes of seuere Vertue.

It is more then reasonable, that he (by the generous and fearelesse resolution of a noble courage) being arriued vn­to the farthest end of so great a de­signe, should now bee recompenced with a crowne of Honour: for the gai­ning wherof he enterprizde a iourney so painefull so dangerous.

Nature then hath imprinted in the mindes of all, a love of Honour [Page 136] and a desire of prayse, and aboue all, a certaine opinion that true glory can­not be atchieued by any other meanes but vertuous actions. In such sort that we must take especial care not to be so vnnaturall, as to prise glory at a meane value; nor yet to thinke, that shee can be acquirde by the wicked actions of impiety.

Behold therfore the necessity both of the theory and practise of Vertue: which consisteth as well in the know­ing and doing of good, (which wee ought alwaies to imbrace and follow) as in the auoydance of that which is e­uill, which we should shunne as a veno­mous serpent. The wound which vice hath stabbed in the soule, cannot bee cured by repentance alone: but the correction and amendment of our life is also required. The griefe thereof ought to be expeld by Vertue, and not by a contraryvice: for the Couetous miser becomming a Prodigall, tum­bleth headlong from one extream in­to another.

[Page 137]Vertue ought to place herselfe in the very center of the souls affections: the soule ought to command the senses: and the senses ought to guide the bo­dye; in such sort as it is by their assi­stance that the affection becoms from being corporall to be spirituall. They are the chariot that translateth this li­uing clot of earth, vnto the Temple of Immortality.

An admirable meanes, had wee so great a blessing as to be able to attaine vnto the knowledge thereof. Yet farre more admirable, if we could vse it well. For euen as the life of the soul is diuine Grace, and the life of the senses the as­sistance of Reason: euen so the helpfull support of the body hath its whole dependance on the orderly guiding of the senses, beeing assisted by the first mouer, whose office it is to spiritualize them, being brought vnto it.

For if the soule would be contented to liue vnto her selfe, without toyling and troubling her selfe for her com­panion, she would depriue her selfe of [Page 138] all her glory, being not able to be con­ioynd vnto that vnity, (whereunto she aspireth) by any other meanes but by doing well: So that then her salarye wholly depends on the administra­tion and gouernement of the body, for therein onely her action consi­steth.

For how can she imploy her selfe o­therwise? by what meanes can shee ap­peare vnto the world, but by her facul­ties? Therefore it is very requisite, that she ayde and succour them, guide and gouerne them, as long as they remaine together; that thereby at length trium­phing in glory for hauing vanquished the Diuell, the World, the Flesh and its affections, shee may bring them vnto the fruition of eternall blessednes.

Contrarily, if shee (by yeelding too obsequiously vnto their lustfull appe­tites, and wanton concupiscences, for­getting both office and place) should slaue her selfe to the seruile subiection of their desires, shee should truely me­rit (by suffering her selfe to bee thus [Page 139] transported by their lewd and carnall affections) to be depriued of all her so­ueraignty; forasmuch as (by giuing too facile an obseruance to their flattering perswasions) she hath frustrated the se­rious intention of her Creatour, which was, that she shold assimulate vnto her selfe by vertuous actions, such things as were impure and subiect to the dregs and blemishes of sinne, that so at her returne shee might bring them with her to bee conioynd in him. The course then that shee is to obserue in such contrarieties, is, so to demeane her selfe, that both the senses and her selfe be nothing but Reason, that is to say, that she be not so spirituall that she forget her selfe to be conioyned with a body, whereof she ought to haue great care, to rule and gouerne it: Nor yet so corporall, that she should bee vnmind­full of her purer essence, and that she is the secōd cause of both their felicities. So thē, Vertue producing these effects in a prudent mā, impresseth in the soul of him, not only a knowledge of that [Page 140] which is iust, honest, and profitable, that he may thereby loue and imbrace it; but also of that which is vniust, dis­honest & vnprofitable, that hee may therby shunne and hate the same, hol­ding his affections vnder the rule and moderation of her lawes, to the ende that he may not be made a bondslaue to his enemy, beeing fallen vnder the power of Vice.

And what is more miserable in the world then seruitude? And what serui­tude greater, then to be in a slauish sub­iection to a mans owne disordered af­fections? On the other side, what grea­ter happines in the world then liberty? And what greater liberty then to bee master and commaunder of a mans selfe?

If the victory that is atchieued, ought to bee valued according to the dignity and worth of him that is con­quered, it is most certaine, that the Conquerour shall bee as greate as was his glory whom hee conquered. In such sort, the renowned victory [Page 141] which Achilles wonne when hee con­quered Hector, was so much the more noble, by how much Hector was more mighty & valiant. Furthermore, there is nothing in the World so greate as man, nor any thing in man so excel­lent as his soule and courage, which is the greatest and most puissant thing within the compasse of the Vniuerse. For questionless that is chiefest, that is noblest, which approacheth neerest vnto the first beginning. But the soule of man doth most resemble God, be­cause of his vnderstanding, vse of rea­son, and freenesse of will, which shee hath farre aboue all the parts of mans body, and all other terrestriall crea­tures whatsoeuer. Whence it necessari­ly followeth, that the reasonable soule is the most worthy, most noble, of all the vniuersall World.

If man, then, gaine the conquest o­uer his own soule, he ought to be estee­med more victorious then hee that hath subdued and conquered the whole world.

[Page 142]Wherefore it is, that mans chiefest content (during his continuance in this life) is the soules quiet and peace­full tranquillity: which cannot be got­ten by things directly contrary, such as are restlesse desires, and greedy co­uetousnes, wherewith the soule is mise­rably tormented.

Nor yet doth the peace and tran­quillity of the spirit, properly consist in the exemption of griefe and sorrow; but also, in the freeing of it, from such violent passions, as plunge the vicious in a sea of sadnes.

So that then he only is to be accoun­ted free, which domineereth ouer his owne affections, and withstandeth the violence of such ill-seasoned desires, as without resistance would destroy him. If we esteeme that man to be attended on by an vnhappy chance and a mise­rable fortune, which hauing bene once a Lord and Commander, is now tum­bled headlong downe by some disa­strous accident or other, into the sub­iection of his owne vassall; what then [Page 143] shall wee say of him that is volun­tarily becomme a seruile bond-slaue not onely vnto his passions, but also vnto such things as are sense­lesse & dead? (such as are gold and sil­uer, and the like worldly vanities) and so at length a seruaunt to sinne and (which is worst of all) vnto the Diuell himselfe.

Is not this a great punishment of God, that man out of his owne free will, (for want of knowing and vn­derstanding himselfe) should make himselfe a seruant and a slaue vnto those things, whereof hee (if hee would eschewe Vice, and imbrace Vertue, so to vse his goods and fortunes with moderation) might haue the mastery and full command?

Therefore if there bee any spar­kle of Iudgement remaining in vs, whereby wee may discerne the trea­cherous conspiracies and domestical treasons which our own passions, con­triue against vs, shall wee not blush to suffer our selues to bee so shame­fully [Page 144] surprised, by those toyish fop­peries, which the least foresight in the world would vtterly haue queld? Haue our painful indeauors in the school of Vertue gained no greater profit, then that fraile riches, and worldly vanities, should haue greater power and prehe­minence ouer vs then Reason? Are we willing our selues to deface that re­lique of Gods image and resemblance in vs, that we may become wholy bru­tish? Do we loue & long for that, which wee ought to hate? to imbrace that which burneth vs? and to kisse that which consumeth vs? O, where then is vertues loue, and the affection due to her? O, where is the laudable desire of Glory and Honour? whereunto all truely generous and noble spirits doe aspire by ciuill demeanours, and com­mendable actions.

Well then, let vs contemne all Am­bition, for Ambitions sake, saue onely that, which by arming our minds with true humility maketh vs so valiant a­gainst our selues, as to ouercome our [Page 145] selues; in such sort, that flaying off our old skin with all his staines, blemishes, spots, and imperfections, we may put on a cleane, a faire and a beautifull skin, not onely laudable for its meeke­nes, mildnes, patience, liberality, hu­manity, modesty, and fidelity towards all men; but also for its fortitude, con­stancy, and Iustice towards our selues, whereby we may be able to daunt, yea to subdue our greatest enemy, who hath by smooth insinuation, fortified himselfe euen in the Cittadell of our owne vnderstanding with a resistlesse and immutable resolution of forcing frō vs that little little residue, that smal sparkle of brightness, which suruiueth in vs: to the end that beeing altogether in darknes we might with greater faci­lity, slide into the soul wracking Cha­ribdis of voluptuous sensuality; from which, it is almost impossible to bee redeemed. And last of all, if gene­rous and magnanimous spirits, pre­sent themselues within the lists, ready to vndertake iust and lawful combats; [Page 146] What nobler victory shall wee obtaine then, by conquering the passions and affections of our owne selues? that rea­son heereby may gaine the prehemi­nēce ouer our vnruly wils, which haue inclined our credulous soules to im­brace all mischieuous and wicked acti­ons. And then may we iustly triumph in so great a victory, when wee our selues haue conquered our selues, in so lawfull and iust a combat, being ready now to enter (which is the guerdon of our Conquest) into the possession of the soules soueraign good, which con­sisteth in the tranquillity of the mind, and peace of Conscience. And there­fore wee will conclude this Chapter with these verses;

Our owne selues Conquest is great victory.
For in our selues, ambush our greatest foes.
And the sole meanes, our selues to glorifie,
Is by our Reasons force to vanquish those.

The fourth effect that Vertue produceth in Man: which teacheth him to performe his duetie towards all men, demeaning him­selfe worthily in his Vocation.
CHAP. VII.

THe fourth effect is to teach man his duety towards o­ther men, that he may ther­by discharge the same wor­thily, according to his place and cal­ling, be it either publiquely or priuat­ly. For we are instructed by nature and [Page 148] confirmde by experience, that men cannot liue one without another: in such sort, that from our beginning, our Country, our Parents, our friends, our neighbors, wil, yea ought to be profited by our indeauors. So that wee are not to ascertain our selues of the security of any other fortress in this life, but of doing, counselling, and saying, all such things as are truely accounted honest and vertuous: all this being but the dis­charge of that dutie and seruice which nature obligeth euery one to doe.

So that then if we will be guided by the direction of Nature, we ought to la­bour for a publique good, & to imploy for the conseruatiō of humane society our goods, our trauailes, our industry, yea whatsoeuer is within the lists of our ability. For no mā liues a more shame­ful life, then hee that alwaies liues vnto himselfe, & thinks on nothing but his priuate gain. And he liues most worthi­ly which liues vnto himselfe as little as is possible. Neither indeede can any man liue in greater honor & reputati­on [Page 149] thē he, that thinks his imploymēts neuer bestowed better, then for the ge­nerall cōmoditie of the weal publique.

In such sort that a vertuous man fee­leth himselfe so liuely touched in soul, with an earnest desire of profiting those, with whom he liueth; that he in­deauoureth himselfe to assist and suc­cour them, and not to bee daunted by the greatnes of pain or the fear of peril.

He esteemeth his country as his own proper mansion; wherein euery one ought to labor for the common good. He foreseeth that no mā is able to pro­tect his priuate house frō being rifled, whē the enemies haue the whole City. And therfore euery one ought to car­ry his hogsheads and ladders to the breach, that they may by their diligēt endeauors makevp the reparation & withstand the assault. But if euery one should retire himselfe, & cowardly flye vnto his house, hiding and locking vp all his mony, plate, iewells, and other necessaries; the city beeing surprizde, hee doth not onely lose his gold, but [Page 150] with his gold, his glory. Wherefore to secure thy particular, thou must be­stow thy labours and trauailes in the defence and safety of the generall: which cannot be (when the Citty is be­sieged) except they shew themselues one to another like faithfull friends and louing Cittizens.

Wee are therefore obliged in dutie each towards other, in this World: to the end that wee labour not onely for our selues, but for all those also, which stand in need of our assistance, hauing alwaies recorded in our memories, that golden sentence; Doe vnto others what thou wouldst haue others doe to thee. For there is nothing more re­pugnant both to the law of nature, and of men, thē to make that the increase, thy profit, which cānot be had, but by the preiudice of another. For Nature will not, nay cannot tolerate, that what increaseth our golden heap shold be the cause of anothers heauines. In such sort that whosoeuer would follow nature, cannot be mischieuous or noy­some [Page 151] some to his like, but wold chuse rather to endure the crosses of the world, and the fretting afflictions of contempti­ble pouerty, then to augment his for­tunes and exalt himself, by the wrong­full deeds of bloudy tyranny: foras­much as the euill of the soule (which is impiety) is a thousand times worse then the euill of the body.

Therefore euery one ought to haue an especiall regard, that the actions which he practiseth be honest & iust; and that the ende whereunto they are referred, bee also profitable vnto the common vse & society of those, with whom (whiles wee breath) wee are al­waies conuersant.

For the great, rich, and potent men, can very hardly, (or scarce at all) liue without the succour and helpe of the meaner sort: for these are they which turmoyle and tumble vp and downe, to dresse their grounds, and husband their possessions. In like manner, the mighty states-man, & so al descending to the Mechanicks, can not liue the [Page 152] one without the mutual help & succor of the other; God being pleased to shew herein, the great care and prouidence which he had of binding thē together with the indissoluble knotte of mutu­all necessity.

It is also requisit that euery ones pains & industry, be accompanied with tru­stiness, and loyalty: to the end that the fruit and profit that the one may pro­duce by the furtherance of the other, be iust & honest, to the cōtinual main­tenance of humane society; which be­ing taken away, al things would be de­stroied by confusion: so that bounty, Iustice, truth, & honesty, would violēt­ly be carried downe the streame, when as priuate gaine should be preferd be­fore the performance of ciuill duty; or when it is deliberated, whether that which is full of profit and commodity may be atchieued, not sinning against honesty and Vertue. Which propositi­on is quickly affirmed by such greedy minds as are easily drawne into such inconueniences.

[Page 153]A happy life, which consisteth in the perfect vse of vertue, cannot be accō ­plished, if it want the assistance of cor­porall & externall goods, which serue as aides & instruments to the better & more happy execution of honest de­sires: & therefore it happeneth often­times that the feare which men haue of falling into pouerty (esteeming it the greatest euill in the world) leadeth thē to desire the goods and riches of the world; & to this effect perswadeth thē that it is their duty to labor for them & to possess them (as being one of the 3. main & principal points, to the obtai­ning wherof, all the actions and indu­stries of men are finally reduced) thin­king by the gaining of them, to cōmit themselues to a retired settlement and restfull quietness, not considering the sentence of that wise Philosopher; that he that would truely and perfectly be­come rich, should indeauour not to in­crease and augment his riches, but to diminish his greedy desire of hauing: because such as leaue their desires [Page 154] without bounding limmits doe day­lie increase their pouerty and want.

As on the other side, the most excel­lent Vertue and neerest approaching vnto God himselfe, is that which cau­seth mā to want as few things as is pos­sible. For to wish or couet nothing, is to be in some sort like vnto God, tea­ching vs to content our mindes with that little, which we haue, and not to account any pouerty eyther ashame or a reproach vnto vs, saue onely that, which proceedeth from sloathfulnesse and ignorance, or rather from riotous expence, and luxurious superfluity. For when pouerty is found in a man of an honest and ciuil conuersation, one that is laborious, painefull, stout, and wise, it serueth as an infallible cognizance of his magnanimity & lofty courage; such a one as imployeth his minde in the atchieuement of greater matters without incumbring it in the search & pursuit of respectlesse vanities: such as are the riches of the world. And there­fore we may say;

[Page 155]
Externall goods which worldly men adore,
Are not cald goods if we them truely name.
Subiect they are to change, for euermore:
But vertue onely, still persists the same.

Wherefore it is, that the liberty and freedome of the wise mans soule (that knoweth the natures and qualities of external goods) is neuer troubled with their pensiue perplexitie; beeing cer­tainely assured that his felicity is not a iot the greater, nor his content any thing increased, by beeing inuironed on euery hand, with an infinite masse of riches and treasures, if he haue not the fruition of that true ioy and com­fort, which only proceedeth from the soules tranquillity.

But because we ought not to liue in the world, like idle droanes wee are bound by duty to imploy the talent which God hath bestowed on vs, to the commodity of diuers others be­sides ourselues, indeauouring to aug­ment the same by all iust and honest meanes, without the dommage & pre­iudice of any; that wee may heereby [Page 156] bee true imitatours of the painfull Bee, conuerting all things into sweete and gentle meeknes, contenting our selues with that which is necessary, and spen­ding the residue to helpe and succour those that want it.

For the life of Man, with his indu­strious paines, is not praised because he is rich, and mighty; but because he is iust and friendly, and hath the true vse of the riches which he hath gotten: forasmuch as liberality is the excel­lent vse of that meanes, which God hath placed in our hands, to be a helpe and succour vnto many. So that natu­rall duty (which wee call the source of all laudable actions, and foundation of honesty) obligeth vs, to do nothing against the commodity of the com­mon good, nor to seek after any thing by the detriment of another; but to render vnto euery one with a good will and a cheerefull countenance, such things as rightly appertaine vnto him.

For euen as our duty is the end and [Page 157] scope whereunto Vertue tendeth, to wit that wee should duly respect honesty and a seemely carriage in all our acti­ons: Euen so it is necessary and requi­site, that the cōmodity which accrew­eth vnto vs by the mediation of our industrious and painefull endeauours, be honest and profitable both toge­ther: because there is nothing profita­ble that is separated from honesty; this disiunction beeing the fountaine of al wicked vices.

So that whensoeuer wee see profit presented vnto vs, if wee perceiue that there are ingrediēces of vice mixt with it, we ought to eschew the one, for the others sake: thinking it to be as full of annoyance vnto the peace of the soul, as a sweet potion mixt with poyson, to the safety of the body.

For equity and reason would haue some distinction betweene duety, and that which is called commonly profit, there beeing as great a difference and separation betweene them, as there is betweene honesty and this profite. [Page 158] For this kind of profite maketh man not to feare to violate his promise, and to profane that which hath been both ordained by the law of God, and con­firmd also by the lawes of men; alwaies prouided that it bring him gaine. And the other on the contrary side, maketh him (with a liberall and free minde) to imploye his goods, trauailes and in­dustry, yea whatsoeuer lyeth within the compasse of his ability, to make them profitable and auaileable vnto euery one; not incited thereunto through a certaine hope of a gainefull recompence: although indeed such as receiue any thing, are bound also by dutie to bee gratefull to their benefa­ctors, and to render such things vnto them for their good deedes, as the pro­portion of the benefit requireth, and their abilities can affoorde.

Yet howsoeuer, Vertue obligeth those that are well storde, to doe plea­sures vnto others more freely then to receiue, because it is farre more honourable to oblige then to bee ob­liged, [Page 159] to giue then to take, foras­much as hee that conferreth rewards on others, exerciseth a very good and an honest action: but hee that recei­ueth, doth onely exercise an action of profite. And profitable is much lesse gratious then honest. For that which is honest is stable and permanent, fur­nishing him that giueth, with a con­stant gratification: whereas that which is profitable, slideth quickly away and is soone lost; neither is the remem­brance thereof so agreeable and plea­sant to the minde. And againe, those things are esteemed the more pretious by how much the dearer they are. Therefore it is better to giue then to re­ceiue, because giuing costeth more then receiuing.

Wherefore whosoeuer hath beene obliged by receiuing, ought to re­deeme his liberty if hee can possible. For it argueth not a vertuous and a valiant spirit, to remain long in the ar­rereages of curtesie. But if wee haue bin beneficiall vnto any, by the friendly [Page 160] performance of a ciuill curtesie, we [...] should desire to haue that obligation stand vncancelled rather then to haue it required by a mutuall recompence, sithence the mind is well contented with the honour of friendly perfor­mances: which commonly coueteth rather to deserue something and not to receiue, then to receiue and not to merit: forasmuch as to merit is hono­urable; but to haue the enioyance of its desert, is deemed nothing else but profitable.

Yet there is alwaies a regard to bee had (in actions of honesty) vnto the sort and quality of the obligation: For a generall good, ought to be preferred before a particular, & a man of merit before such a one as merits nothing. Wherfore, it is, that this desire is vniust and dishonest, which indeauoureth nothing else but to extract profit and commodity from euery one, without doing good vnto any one; and to re­ceiue any kindnesse whatsoeuer, with­out shewing so much as a willingnes to [Page 161] reward, valuing true honour and glo­ry (atchieued onely by vertuous acti­ons) at a meane reckoning; nay, scarce accounting eyther of them of any e­steeme at all. For indeede it is almost impossible for such, as vse all the means they can for the reaping of pro­fit, to do that vnto Honour which is her due: Forasmuch as dishonest gain is a carelesse regard, nay an absolute despisall of true glory; the shining splē ­dour whereof euery vertuous heart ought to be iealous to preserue, not suf­fering it to bee eclipst by the obscure clowds of base actiōs; but most especi­ally the nobler sort, & such as haue bin exalted to the highest dignities, whe­ther by letter, or Armes. For Honour exacts the performāce of duty so much the more seuerely in those, by how much their worths and dignities haue more distinguisht them frō the vulgar.

Therefore it is that the golden Mer­chant is not so much honoured as the simple Souldier. For the one hea­peth vppe a mountaine of treasure, [Page 162] respecting onely his owne inriching: the other practiseth but few meanes, and those also as instruments of Ho­nour: and the onely end of all his par­simony, is wholly referred vnto the ac­quist of Glory.

And then if naturall Duty haue ob­liged all sorts of men, to doe their best indeauours (in their seueral vocations) to accomplish somthing, that may bee profitable to the publique good; it stands with greater reason, that shee should oblige those, which are the bright lamps, and glorious starres of honour, (eyther by place or paren­tage) to the end that they might en­lighten the meaner actions of other men, by the shining lustre of their ex­amples. Which they can neuer doe, but by clearing first their owne hearts from filthy couetousnesse; forasmuch as that is the principal cause, which ma­keth men forgetfull of those thinges which appertaine to the purchase of Honour: wholly addicting their minds to riches, and suffring thē to think on [Page 163] nothing, saue that alone, which serues for increase of their reuenues: wheron being wholly bent, they oft times prac­tise base, and ignoble actions (which in fine, procure their miserable ruine) a­gainst those that are of their own profe­ssion. Wherfore it is very expedient for him that desireth earnestly to imbrace vertue, to propose her alwaies before his eyes, as the onely obiect wherat he aymeth, and not to esteem of any pro­fit, saue onely that which is attaind vn­to by her accord.

For how-soeuer the imposturous hypocrite, and dissembling wretch, seeme more faire in his affaires, accor­ding to the censure of the World, then the plaine honest and open hearted man; yet certainely it is better to bee vnrespected with the last, then with the first to be in great esteeme. For the ends of such are alwaies miserable. And therefore they that seek after no­thing but their owne priuate gaine, are miserably deluded: because whatsoe­uer their greedy minds induced them [Page 164] to follow, was false riches & coūterfeit treasures. For true riches are not gaind, but by the performance of our duties, grounded on Vertue: which is nought else but the practise of doing wel to all, not in regard of gaine, or hope of recō ­pence, but only in respect of Vertue it selfe: which is, & ought to be, the sole profit of an honest man. She it is that maketh all things profitable. And hee that taketh care to perform his duty, is neuer guerdor less. For the obseruance therof being wel imployed, procureth vs esteem & credit amongst men: cre­dit preferres vs to the dignity of some high place, wherein are gained order­ly and quiet riches: which are to bee accounted of, farre more then great abundance mischieuously gotten. It is a worthy cement that firmely vniteth honest and profitable. For if they bee disioyned, Vtility is nothing but delu­ding cosenage: and Ouerreaching, an irreligious policy: which seuerely bin­deth the trembling-guilty conscience to answere for the same It behooueth [Page 165] therefore euery particular man, to bee (as well in art, as industry) constantly resolued, and resolutely confirmed, in three especiall points, before the at­chieuement, or execution of any acti­on. The first is, that his enterprize bee iust. The second is, that the meanes which he practiseth by (for the attain­ment therof) be lawfull. The last is, that he surpasse not the bounds of his owne vocation, be it eyther publique or par­ticular; but alwaies containe himselfe within its limits, and do his best for the common good. For, than this, there is nothing more agreeable vnto God, nor more beseeming an honest man.

Let vs then learn our deuoir towards men, to the end that wee may render thanks vnto God for all. First, for the good which he hath giuen vs: next, for the good which wee haue had, to make it truly profitable, & for the prosperous successe thereof: and lastly, for the re­ward which wee are sure to obtaine: I mean the beatitude & felicity, which is the true ground of perfect goodnes.

[Page 166]We haue formerly declared, what are Vertues effects in man, (making him to loue and follow her) besides the re­cōpence which she hath in her self & of her own nature. And because recom­pence hath a very great power ouer vs, and is able to cause vs to affect things a great deale the more, Vertue will ne­uer be without the same.

Now, by how much the more her ex­cellency surmounteth the worths of o­ther things; so much the richer, and more pretious are the salaryes which she presenteth to vertuous men. These are Honor & Pleasure; a double good, without which, shee neuer marcheth: whereof (now following) we make des­cription.

The Description of true Honour: and how it ought to bee acqui­red.
CHAP. VIII.

ALl our actions whatsoe­uer doe vsually tend to­wards Perfection. We de­sire her for her own sake; being not able to bee contented with­out her. Imperfection is the mother of displeasure, and nurse of discontent.

For which cause, as many as haue treated of beatitude, affirme that wee ought (if we wish for true content, true [Page 168] felicity) to desire perfection. For, none can be said to be truely happy, but such as haue attained vnto the perfect ac­complishment of the same. Her sup­portāce hath no referēce to the goods honours and pleasures of the Body: because perfection is not found in thē, being fraile, inconstant, momentary, and lyable to decay, through times ty­ranny. We ought therefore to seeke af­ter Wisedome, and imbrace the vertues of the soule: whose condition beeing permanent, and estate eternall, they scorn the violence of alteration; whose constancy also is neuer mooued with the battering storms of angry fortune.

So then if all things labour for per­fection, and desire that which is good & agreeable vnto them, it stands with greater reason that the soule of man should couet that which is not onely appertinent, but wondrous necessary. The soule then being an immortall es­sence, it is cleare that it ought not to appropriate such things vnto it selfe, as are fraile and full of change: but ought [Page 169] rather to be richly adorned and glori­fied, by such as are permanent and proper only to its owne nature.

Amongst all the goods and trea­sures of the soule, the acquisition of the Honour which proceeds from vertu­ous actions, whether ciuill or milita­ry, challengeth the highest place; for­asmuch as the pleasure & glory which accompany the same, are fully accom­plished with absolute perfection.

But because the way of Vertue (through the which such as would at­taine vnto perfection, are to passe) is neere adioyning vnto that of vice into the which, poor mortal wights (being miserably deceiued & guld) doe easily slide, sithence in very many things there is a great resemblance twixt ver­tue & vice (so that were not we directed by the infallible guidance & safe-con­duct of Reason, & liuely rouzed out of dul neglect, by the help & assistance of vertue her selfe) we shold too too often take false coūterfeited honor in fled of that which is true and perfect indeede.

[Page 170]We ought therefore to take an especi­all care, that our slight regard in the election, cause vs not to erre in the choice thereof. For true Honour is ne­uer atchieued but by Vertue and per­formance of duty, which are as it were its legitimate and naturall parents: without the which, Honour can no more bee, then heate without fire or the shadow without the body. For o­therwise it would bee nothing else, but as a fantasie of Honour, or a bubble of vaine glorie: which is oftentimes in­gendred in the vaine and deluded i­magination of the distempered brain of him which liueth for the world on­ly; without hauing any respect at all, vnto the principall end of his beeing heere, and which neuer attaind vnto so much knowledge, as to be able to dis­cerne what true Honour is, much lesse to know how it may and ought to bee atchieued.

Let vs define it, to bee the shining brightnes of a vertuous & worthy ac­tion, which is reflected from our own [Page 171] Conscience, vnto the sight and view of those with whom we liue.

It may be also called a gracefull res­pect, or a renowned reputation which euery one ought to haue, in recom­pence of his merit and worthinesse, de­clared vnto the world by many great and glorious deedes, approued so to be by the generall acknowledgement of all good men.

It is not then an imaginary fantasie, but rather a splendent brightnes, or a twinkling light, which maketh him that is the subiect heereof, and with whom she is enamored, to shine as the sparkling rayes of a pretious diamond. It is a diuine good, a celestiall treasure, to whose pure nature it is absolutely contrary, to permit any wicked or vi­cious person to inioy the high-priz'd title, and appellation of Honoura­ble.

And therefore it is not wonne but by striuing (first of all) against our owne affections, and by conquering them: turning fruitlesse and toyish va­nities, [Page 172] ouerweening and arrogant pre­sumptions, towring & to pless ambiti­on, into a remote and an eternall ba­nishment: yea, exiling also with them the quenchless desire of our owne pri­uate gain, that we may sincerely tender all our actions, all our industries, vnto the publique good of other men; but most especially to our countries good.

For those that are born to bee mag­nified by the enioyāce of honourable & glorious appellations, do neuer de­sire any thing more ordinarily, more earnestly, then to performe as many profitable and worthy actions, vnto others, as are within the reach of their abilities; and to sacrifice their tender hearts last drop of bloud to redeeme their Country from an imminent dan­ger: so that their glory beeing thus moystned by the honourable effusion of their owne bloud, it shall flourish and waxe green in the eternal Spring-time.

So then the esteeme and reputati­on which men shold desire, consisteth principally in two points. The first is, [Page 173] that we bee alwaies found sincere and vpright as well towards ourselues as to all other men; to the end that the te­stimony which commeth from our owne consciences vnto the sight and view of those with whom we liue, may serue vs in stead of a warrant and an ap­probation against false report: foras­much as Verity is the shield of Honor.

The second is, to glorifie our selues rather by surpassing others in euery good duty, and office towards them, then by respecting of any other ad­uantages whatsoeuer for our selues; be it eyther worldly reputation or par­ticular profit.

For it is in this duty (which is truely vertuous, truely charitable) that gene­rous and well tempered spirits will im­ploy themselues (alwaies confined within the limits of their owne vocati­on) to acquire and possesse that great & vnualuable treasure of Honour, that crowne of glory, whereof (hauing once merited it by vertuous deeds) they ne­uer are depriued againe.

[Page 174]For can any one rebuke those that dayly accumulate desert vpon desert, & neuer desist from inriching the for­mer good deeds, by seconding them with the like? shewing themselues to bee truely seasoned with a generous disposition, wishing alwaies to encoū ­ter any new occasions that shall bee sortable to their desires: greedy of no other glory, beside the testimony of their owne soules: disesteeming vtter­ly the fauourable Iudgement of other men. For euery action is so much the more laudable in it selfe, by how much the farther off it is from ostentation, or desire of applause.

And although it bee not euery ones fortune, to bee able to attaine vnto the height and top of Honour, or to esta­blish it vnto eternity: yet they must not therefore bee discouraged and exani­mated from the pursuit thereof; but thinke that there is no one how mean soeuer, but ought to make more ac­count of that little which hee can at­taine vnto, in his owne vocation, then [Page 175] of all the rest of his whole wealth and riches; because (in such a case) Honor cannot be made altogether immortal, by reason of the incapacity of the sub­iect: yet howsoeuer; it is the greatest, the most illustrious, most commenda­ble, and most durable of all the goods which man inioyeth: forasmuch as by it, he leaueth vnto the world a good te­stimony of his life, and to his owne po­sterity a good example.

But forasmuch as the Qualities, Conditions, and Resolutions of such generous & noble spirits, which make Armes their profession, are different from other estates, which neuer trauail but for their owne particular and pri­uate vtilities; whereas these heere pro­pose especially before their eyes, the publique good of the commō wealth, assuring them a quiet peace, purchased by their trauells, their daungers, their wounds, their woes, their greeuous sufferances, and conseruing the gene­rall good by their industry, valiance and perseuerance: Honour therefore [Page 176] is most deseruedly called the lawfull guerdon, and true recompence of ver­tuous actions. For, sithence Vertue participateth of a diuine nature, it ne­cessarily followes, that she cannot bee recognized or sufficiently rewarded with gold or siluer; but rather with those things, which draw neere vnto diuinity: such as are Honour and re­putation, rightly appropriate vnto him vnto whom it iustly appertaines.

But it appertaineth vnto none more iustly then vnto the gentle, generous, and valiant Captaine: neither shineth it so magnificently, so gloriously, in a­ny affairs, as in the courageous attēpt [...] of martial enterprises. We behold con­tinually such as are the legitimate sons of dantless Mars, to be full of courage and stomacke euen in their swaddling cloathes and afterwards in processe of time to be wise in counsell, sober in necessity, patient in aduersitie, iust in the midst of power, cautelous in exe­cution, diligent to follow wheresoeuer fortune leadeth them, despising ease [Page 177] and not respecting life when it stands vpon the point of Honour, not setting their valiance at a price, nor his vertu­ous deedes for a mercenary stipend; es­chewing alwaies euill, to imbrace what is good, not through fear or force, but through a voluntary and free respect of Vertue onely: which (in stead of re­compence) doth crown them with glo­ry, which maketh them so remarquea­ble aboue other men, as much as the Diamonds value is esteemed aboue o­ther pretious stones: yea as much as the sunne surpasseth in glory, the star­ry tapers of the firmament: yea so much I say doth Honour out-strip in true esteeme, al other earthly treasures whatsoeuer: whose fraile inioyance the world permitteth vs to haue no lon­ger, then for the continuance of a flee­ting breath. But Honour maketh those that are absent present; yea the dead a­liue, through the fresh remembrance of their noble deedes, translated care­fully from age to age, carrying with it still in triumphant state their truly ver­tuous [Page 178] and admired actions, borne on the golden wings of purest eloquence, that neuer moue, but in the seruices of honourable Personages.

This Crowne, therefore, is lawfully due vnto those, that spend their liues in the seruice of their Prince & coun­trey; who voluntarily exposing them­selues vnto apparant dangers, to shield the same from forraine inuasions, bring backe with them many glorious scarres, the noble emblemes of an vn­daunted courage; together, with a minde-appeasing testimony in their consciences, of performing faithfull seruices vnto their Prince, and of do­ing their best endeauours, for the pre­seruation of their countrey: without the which, it could not chuse but en­dure a miserable languishment. For how could life haue beene any way gratefull vnto vs; hauing lost our Re­ligion, our Lawes, our Liberty, and our purity of life, which are, next to God, the necessary maintenances of our be­ing? So that then these things, being [Page 179] forcibly rauished from vs, wee can­not wish to liue any longer in this world.

This duety, this seruice (which they performe towards their countrey) be­ing of so great importance, conferreth on them a deserued Title of No­bilities; which crowneth them with such shining light, as shall reflect a splendent brightnesse to posteri­ty. For sithence neither the coun­trey, nor the liberty thereof, can bee secured, but vnder the protecti­on of defensiue armes; it conse­quently followes, that such as make profession thereof, and haue assigned themselues therunto, for the common good and safety of their countrey; should not onely be respected and ho­noured, but also recompenced with an eternall guerdon: in such sort, that the vertue and prowesse of an honoura­ble man, hath alwayes beene accoun­ted the subiect of his Nobilitie; being approued (in all ages) by the common suffrage of euery one. So that then [Page 180] Honour was giuen vnto men for a sa­lary, a recognizance of some vertuous deedes, being a glory vnto him whiles he liued, and afterward a grace transla­ted by descent to his posterity.

It is great honor from illustrious ligne
To be descended, by our Predecessours:
But greater far by our own light to shine,
(Then by their lustre) vnto our successors.

It behooueth euery one therfore to haue a great regard, that wee obscure not the sparkling lustre of that glori­ous sunne, by degenerating from the vertue of our ancestors, whose descen­ding Honor hath enlightned vs.

Into which loathsome dungeon of base ignominy, such ordinarily preci­pitate themselues, as beeing respectless of their deuoir, preferre their own qui­et peace, before their princes seruice: and their priuate gaine before their Countries Honour; neuer considering that Vertue crownes only those which perseuere vnto the end. And that man [Page 181] cānot immortalize his name on earth, that giueth way to drowsy lazynes: it being vtterly anent reason & honesty, that hee which changeth vertue into vice, should in any sort bee honored & respected: forasmuch as nobility by birth, can stand in no other stead vnto such as shew themselues vicious by their ignoble deedes, but to condemne their folly and increase their shame.

For vice is so much the more defor­med and vgly, in those of noble races, by how much the patternes of their fa­thers actions are more eminent. In such sort, that the dead bones and a­shes of their predecessours which bought at so deare a price that splen­dent light, whereby they shine so glo­riously in the world, will rise and me­nace cruell torments against them, if they conioyne themselues with vice, and her associates, to bandy against vertue and her adherents: seeking ven­geance of the wrongs which they re­ceiue by the participation of dishonor imposde on them and on their family, [Page 182] in recompence of that honour where­by they left their progeny illustrious.

Therefore haue armes beene per­mitted vnto noble personages, that they might beare them alwaies, as the recognizance of honour, vnder the confident hope, that those (hauing bin suckled in their Cradles with the milke of Honour, and afterwards growne vp in vertue, by the mediation both of Arte, traditions, and examples of their auncestors) would not make a league with any that should bee vertues ene­mies; preferring priuate profite, be­fore the seruice of the Prince; and pri­uate gaine before their Countries good.

For the order of Knighthood was instituted in auncient time, to fight in defence of Religion, to defend their countrie, to serue their Prince faith­fully in the warres; being sent by him vnto the same, to maintaine the wron­ged causes of Widdows, Orphants, and others that are iniuriously opprest. For to fight for Religions cause, is a spiritu­all [Page 183] acte, which God will guerdon in the life to come. To defend and protect the countrey wherein we liue, is to re­gard the conseruation of mankinde. To doe seruice vnto the Prince, is to cancel the bonds of our naturall allea­geance. To redeeme the oppressed from afflictions and miseries, is a no­ble deede, and truely vertuous; it be­ing the fruitfull effect of godly chari­tie. For hee that deliuereth not the wronged from oppression, nor oppo­seth himselfe against tyrannie for their deliuerances sake (hauing meanes, po­wer, limmes, and al opportunity what­soeuer) doth infringe the knot of hu­mane society, which ought to be pre­serued inuiolable amongst true Chri­stians: and for neglect hereof, hee ought to be lyable vnto as reproach­full an infamy, as seuere a punishment, as hee that hath betrayed his parents and friends vnto a cruell death.

Wherefore Nobility ought to be in continuall exercise, as well in the mid­dest of dangerous hazards, in time [Page 184] of warre; as in ciuill and honest affairs in time of peace, but principally in charitable deedes. For tilting, hunting, running at ring, and the like, are not sufficient exercises, to make your ver­tue appeare vnto the world: shee pas­seth by such without respect, requiring attempts of greater aduenture.

Great Personages haue oftentimes desired occasions ful of danger to pre­sent themselues vnto them; that they might by such vndertakings giue a lu­stre vnto the greatnes of their vndaun­ted courages, whose light may bee cō ­pared vnto the sunne it selfe. Moreo­uer, it is not vnto childish apprentises, or simple ignorants, that the conduct and guidance of difficult exploits are committed; but vnto those rather, which by long experience, haue beene made fit and capable of the same. For Vertue neuer adorneth any one with wisedome and modesty, but shee also accomplisheth him, with valiance, and magnanimity. Shee taketh from him the feare of danger, of greefe, of sorrow [Page 185] and of death, making him to triumph boldly, treading on the head of dan­ger, with the foote of constancy, and so to direct all his actions vnto Honors glorious title, as the archer his arrow to the white.

Wherefore if we be men & not mon­sters in nature, why doe not wee tend towards this perfection? trampling vnder our feet with courageous harts, all the dangerous difficulties which striue to diuert vs from vertues path; sithence it is by her that wee are truely vertuous, truly blessed.

This worthy resolution is far more excellent then the possession of all the treasures and honours of the world: which noble and heroick minds con­tinually despise, as things fraile, transi­tory, and vaine; and therefore seeke af­ter felicity & beatitude in things more dureable & permanent. For these two, are in the soule of man throgh a neces­sary consequence, of one and the same Verity, to wit to bee happy and to bee vertuous: the last is as necessary vnto [Page 186] man, as the first is naturally desired of him. But as the desire of being hap­pie is very great, so is it also very vaine, without this veritie; which teacheth vs that the chiefest science in the world is to be an honest man, and the grea­test Honour to be happy.

For Honour, not conformable to vertue, to our duety, & to conscience, cannot enioy the sweet society of per­fect glory, & permanent felicity. And therfore it is nothing else, but a windie vapour, proceeding frō swelling pride, & vain presumption; whose recōpence at last is shame, hatred, & the derision of the whole world, and vnspeakeable punishment in the world to come.

But that which proceedes from ver­tue, inciteth euery one that is indued with a generous disposition, to erect vnto himselfe an eternall monument, by glorious atchieuements, & hero­icke deedes; arming him with an in­uincible & courageous constancy, to march boldly in the very face of dan­ger it selfe; sustayning infinite labours & trauels, tearing through the bryars [Page 187] and thornes of a thousand inconueni­encies, aduising him not to court Ho­nour, eyther through ostentation or ambition: for were it possible for him to attaine vnto the end whereat he ay­meth, without indurance, he would not by his good will, cast himselfe into an Ocean of perplexities; in such sort then that he thrusts himselfe forwards, one­ly, because he being dull and grosse, cannot bee purified of these great in­cūbrances, but by the fire of afflictions.

But hauing opportunity now to look backe on the manifolde difficulties which hee hath surmounted through the performance of his deuoir, guided by the aidance of a iust conscience hee arriues vnto the field of Honor: where his Temples are crowned with a Chap­plet of liberty; as truly exempted from the malice both of death and obliui­on, as his intention was remote from gaine or profite, onely ayming at the good of his coūtry & the seruice of his Prince: in such sort, that he hath pur­chased vnto himselfe a renounced me­mory throughout all ages.

[Page 188]So that then the soule finding it selfe adorned and beautified with such rich & in estimable treasures, reapeth greate ioy from this great felicity: which be­ing rooted in the very bottome of his hart that possesseth her (and not in ex­ternall and fraile riches) accompani­eth the soule and the honour thereof, vnto the highest heauens, where both shal be immortalizde togethers. Ther­fore say we;

The wings of Fame
mount Honour to the skie;
Where Vertue crownes it
with Eternity:
Whereas the Vertuous,
'mongst a showre of darts
Sought it, thrust-foorth
by braue and noble hearts.
Backe therefore, Epicure,
in sugred pleasure
Bathing thy soule:
Thou shalt be crownde by leisure;
Sith shee preserues her lawrells
for such spirits,
[Page 189]As duely challendge them
by Vertuous merits.
Backe, Wanton womans-man,
which without paine
Would'st purchase Honour: Backe.
Thy hope is vaine.
Fauours auayle not: labours
haue the price;
And those which for her sake
would sacrifice
Their bloud, their limmes, their liues,
that are so deare,
Their soules; nay, more, had they
what were more neare.

The description of false Honour; the true subiect and ground of Quarrels and Contentions.
CHAP. IX.

ALthough vertue be con­trary vnto both the ex­treames of vice; in the midst of which she hath her seate: yet neuerthe­lesse, she is more directly opposed vn­to one of them them then to the o­ther, and beareth greater conformitie [Page 191] with the one then with the other. For, Fortitude inclineth more to audacity, then to timidity: and the liberall man resembleth more the prodigall, then the couetous wretch.

By reason whereof, such as cannot discerne the true from the counterfeit, by the aidefull ministry of reason, are easily transported into one of the ex­treames, according to the inclination of their affections: in such sort, that vice being full of deceitfull mischiefe, and gaining the assistance of our affe­ctions; besiegeth the vnderstanding, conquereth our reason, and then carri­eth the wauering soule, destitute of a Pilote, according to the inconstant winde of euery phantasticall occasion: which being seduced by the externall senses, giues way vnto the flattering charmes of a deadly foe:

Which as a Tyrant,
proud in victorie,
Giues power to the senses
o're each action:
[Page 190]Whose chiefest comfort
and triumphant glorie,
Is to see reason made a slaue
to passion.

As oftentimes it falleth out in a point of Honour: whereof the greatest part of men make a vaunting brauado, rather through a vaine ambition of seeming greater then other men, then for the true & zealous affection which they beare toward vertue, which they vntruly challenge to themselues.

For if Honour bee nothing else but the resplendent glory of a vertuous action, and a celestiall good that can­not, nor will not permit, that any euill deed should be adornde with honours title; how is it possible that a man may be called vertuous and valiant, which is not stomackfull in anything saue mischiefe, that is neuer armed but to oppress the innocēt, neuer doth his vttermost but against the iust, nor enterprizeth any thing saue one­ly that which is quite contrary to the [Page 193] generall designe of those that desire peace in stead of warre, repose in stead of sedition, and louing amity in stead of enmitie? Without all question such valiance and adulterate fortitude, whose obiect is nothing but bloud and death, is to be accounted no other­wise then a sauage brutishnesse; nay, farre more beastly then that of the vn­reasonable creatures; which are neuer offensiue vnto any, saue those twixt whom and them nature proclaimes a perpetuall Antipathie: but such as are of the same species, doe neuer offend their owne companions.

But amongst other shames, or rather most ignoble and base infamies, this is not the least, that a Gentleman should staine his Rapier in the bloud of his neighbour; nay, oftentimes of his own father, and for a trifle, or smal­ler matter: of such a one (I say) with whom before, hee made but one bed, vsed but one table, but one purse. Tell me, I pray, whence proceedes this false and base imagination in thee, that [Page 194] thou thinkest true Honour to con­sist in surpassing others by strength of body, and in making the weake to tremble at thy feete? Or that he is not to be esteemed valiant, that insulteth not imperiously ouer another, or as­saulteth not anothers life, or sheds his bloud? False and counterfeit Honour, is the father of those adulterate brats. For ambition also; being one of false honours sonnes, is neuer quarrellesse; each one would haue the place, and e­uery one contests with his companion for the chiefetainity; striuing with e­uery Oare one to debase another; in such sort that the most desperate stick­sneaging Cauallier, is held with them to be the stoutest gallant. And at this very day, vertue is transformed into vice, and true valiance into rashnesse; not without the approbation of all; or (at least) the most part, apologizing onely in this manner: It is my duety to defend mine honour. Aduise your incensed gallant, to any other course besides fighting, he sweares, tis simple, [Page 195] base, cowardly, & the infallible mark of a Capon-harted dastard. He sweares, he wil be reueng'd: & the furious flames of his distempered mind, must be extin­guished with his friends heart bloud: take this, and take all; his Honour is more pretious then his life: he had ra­ther translate his name vnto posterity vnblemished, then liue to sucke a hun­dred yeares light ayre. He must sacri­fice himselfe vnto his owne passion, & serue as an oblation, to be offred vp (in a bloudy duellū) vnto the diuel himself, to the eternall damnation of his soule.

This mischiefe proceeds either from ignorance, or from the cōtempt of the knowledge of true Honour, & perfect vse of vertue; which teacheth men a means, to temper the violent heate of [...]heir vnbridled furies, & aduiseth them [...]ather to be silent, then not to speake [...]el, rather to receiue iniury, then to of­ [...]er it, to bestow on others, rather thē to [...]ke frō others, to trauell in the rough [...]ay of vertue, not to wāder vp & down [...] the fruitlesse pursuit of false Honor, [Page 196] and last of all, rather to pardon all dis­gracefull wrongs, then to be reuenged on any one. For the greatest reuenge, the honourablest victorie that we can gaine ouer our enemies, is, to surpasse them in diligence, in bountie, in mag­nanimity, in good & courteous deedes; wherewith they will sooner know and acknowledge themselues conquered, and constrained to shut their mouths, and to bridle their contumelious tongues, then by any other forcible courses whatsoeuer.

Wherefore, a vertuous man is not to consider any other thing in all his in­tendments, but whether they be iust, or vniust, good, or euill; to the end that by reasons iudgement, he may be able to discerne the truth from falshood, and to declare, that he proposeth vnto himselfe, no other end, but iustice and equity.

And therfore, such as subiect them­selues, to the indurance of labours and trauels, for iniust causes; or fight de­sperately for peculiar profite, vnder [Page 197] what pretence soeuer, being not for­warded through the sincere loue of vertue alone; cannot brauado it, or swagger it out (but falsely) that they are indued with such worthy qualities, as ar truly requisit to a generous mind. For such a victory, as is bought with the bloud of those, which haue very slenderly, or happely scarce offended vs at all, is an exquisite defeature of true renowne: but the other is farre more noble, and farre (beyond comparison) more commendable, in that he know­eth to ouercome himselfe, in giuing pardon to his enemies. For the num­ber is but small of those which are found to be so iust, that they can easi­ly forget, and slightly ouerpasse great iniuries receiued; that being a peculiar property vnto the magnanimous, and truely noble courage: which shewes himselfe angry with him alone, which seeketh to staine the glory of his Ho­nor, by the iniurious and diuellish im­putations of ignoble deedes. In such sort, that to pardon these insolencies, [Page 198] and to forget such apparant wronges, acted by those, on whom hee may with facility reuenge himselfe, is a deede that merites noble praise, and is onely proper to a vertuous and heroicke spirite; who is both able and willing to represse the fury of his passions, crying for reuenge, and not to recompence ill deeds for ill. Not that it should not be lawfull for a Gen­tleman or a Souldier, to demand a rea­son of the wrong which is offered vnto him, and most especially in an action of honour, which was gained by mi­litary prowess: but yet too, he ought to proceed in the managing hereof in such sort, as his own cōscience may alwaies serue as a sufficient testimony of the truth and equity of his quarrell: which ought alwaies to be grounded on a iust cause; and so to cleere the blemishes of his reputation by lawfull meanes, and honourable satisfactions. For whosoe­uer groundeth his quarrell on no rea­son, or requireth greater satisfaction then he ought, dishonoreth himselfe; [Page 199] for as much as Honour consisteth in the entire discharge of duetie: which obligeth vs not to doe any thing, contrary either to equity or our owne consciences, vnder what co­lour or pretext soeuer; neyther tho­rough feare of torments, or death it selfe; but to continue firme and constant, in the laudable action and perfect vse of vertue, addi­cting our selues wholly to such things as are iust, honest, and seeme­ly for their owne sake, and bee­ing not prouoked by any other meanes.

For Honour cannot subsist where vertue is defectiue: neyther can ver­tue iustifie this title, except the ground thereof bee veritie; because the Court of verity is Honors throne. In such sort, that a mans honourable reputation is much blotted, if when hee receiues the Lie, he free not him­selfe of that ignoble imputation: because vertue being founded on veritie, it followes that as soone as [Page 200] verity is deficient, vertue also faileth; and so by consequence our honour is lost. Therefore a man without verity, is vnfurnished of Honour; but hauing it, can neuer be dishonoured, by what wrong soeuer.

Wherfore a prudent man, will neuer giue the Lie, without mature delibera­tion; knowing full well, that he should preiudice his owne reputation, if hee should slaunderously doe it, without a necessary and iust occasion. He is not ignorant that the sequele of such a word vntimely spoken, will be figh­ting and swaggering, or rendering some other sufficient satisfaction vnto the party (in such sort) abused: so that hee will temper the heate of his choler with sober meekenesse; doing nothing in momentary pas­sion, which afterwards should cause him to repent.

And as it is farre from his intent and will, to be offensiue vnto any, eyther in word or deede; so also he takes espe­ciall regard, that all his purposes be so [Page 201] surely founded on reason and verity, that his distastefull wordes doe not minister iust occasion of exception, vnto any of those, with whom he vsual­ly is conuersant.

For although such a one, to whom the lye is giuen iniustly, and without a­ny reason, cannot absolutely lose his Honour and reputation; yet notwith­standing it preuaileth oftentimes so farre with many, that it maketh an im­pression in their phantasie; inducing them to thinke, that he which hath in such a manner receiued it, is a man de­stitute of vertue, being taxed to be a man without veritie: so that the vulgar (which vsually are more inclinable to euill, then vnto good) cannot bee perswaded, to imagine any other thought of him but euill, as long as these his wrongs remaine vnsatisfied.

In respect whereof, the Lye vniustly giuen, is a great offence, both to the heart and honour, of him that recei­ued it.

For to speake properly, and within [Page 202] the tearmes of Reason; No one can worke another mans dishonour, ex­cept he first dispoile him of his vertue which accompanieth him, and with whom Honour dwels continually. A man may take a weapon from a man, how stout and valiant soeuer he bee, and so disarme him: he may receiue a boxe on the eare, a bastonado, or a crackt crowne; because these are chances, which oftentimes manhood cannot withstand: it being most true which is vsed prouerbially, Qui con­temptor est vitae sua Dominus est alienae: That he that regardeth not his owne life, becomes by his desperatenesse the Master of another mans. But a wise & prudent man cannot bee ouercome, arming himselfe with vertues shield; which can neuer be taken from him that doth possesse her. And therefore indeede there is no one that can de­priue a man of his honour; saue hee himselfe, by sequestring himselfe from vertue, and verity, to addict himselfe wholly to vice and falshood.

[Page 203]Be thou then vertuous, & thou shalt be honoured; neither shalt thou neede to feare of being dishonored by yniust disgraces. For it is a treasure that can­not be taken away from the vertuous; who affect not praise for ostentations sake, but loue. Honour onely is the guerdon of their merite; which ought alwaies to be iudged and approued by the graue and vertuous, and not by the vulgar ignorants; much lesse by the vitious and quarrelling Hacksters: be­cause the opinions of such are still su­spected; as well because they want iudgement, to discerne vertue from vice, as also because the affections of the vulgar are so full of corrup­tion, that ordinarily they loue, they desire euill more then good.

Wherein all the ambtious pur­suers of false Honour, doe most apparantly bewray these follies. For wee should account him a sense­lesse Idiot, that should question a blinde man concerning the co­lour of his Cloake; and yet wee [Page 204] doe not consider, that when we depend vpon the rash approbation, and brain­lesse censure of the wauering and in­constant multitude, wee referre the iudgement of our Honours and Liues, vnto such ignorant Simplicians, as haue no insight at all in things, that are worthy eyther of praise, or dispraise.

Therefore ought we onely to vnder­goe the censures of the vertuous and grauer sort of men; who consider the honour of another, as if it were their owne, and neuer consent that any shall be honoured, but those, whose vertue duely challeng'd it. For indeede wee erre as often as we weigh the vertuous actions, and honourable deedes of o­thers, in the vniust balance of our owne passions: and therefore wise and honest men ought to be obseruant of the merite, and not eyther to praise or dispraise the same, for the Actors sake; because our passions ouerthrow our iudgement, and cause our censures to be iustly deemed vniust.

He is iudged vnworthy of Honour, [Page 205] that proffers wrongs and iniuries vnto others: nay, he is the Authour of his owne dishonour; declaring by his a­ctions vnto the world, that his breast enfoldeth within it a malignant, and a wicked spirit, to doe such deeds as want the supportance and patronage of Reason.

For all circumstances being well considered, there can be no sufficient reason found, why men should wrong and iniure one another: sithence God hath endued man with iudgement, ac­companied with reason; by whose helpfull assistance he ought to decide all differences whatsoeuer, and not to conclude them with reuengefull cru­eltie: because iniury and reuenge is properly an vniust action, or a deede without reason; which cannot proceed from a generous minde: to whom it is more agreeable, to receiue wrong it selfe, then to proffer iniury and dis­grace to others.

So that the first cause, which insti­gateth the heart of any to be iniurious, [Page 206] can be nothing else, but iniquity and base villanie; which is the true source of vniust and dishonest actions. There­fore he is to be reputed dishonest and most vnworthy of honour & esteeme, that is the willing Author of anothers vniust disgrace: & such a one ought to be disesteem'd, nay, despised of al men; vnlesse he giue iust and conuenient sa­tisfaction vnto the partie iniured, without constrayning him to right himself by combat in the field. Which if he refuse to doe, it is most certaine that the iniury and disgrace, returneth vnto him that eyther did it, or spake it; euen as the dust flyeth vp into the eyes of him that bloweth on the same.

Yet howsoeuer, as euery one ought to haue an especiall regard, not to vrge any with iniurious wrongs, & then to raise an vniust quarrell on such vnlaw­full grounds: so also hauing proceeded so farre, that he hath vndertaken it, he must be careful on what conditions he desist therefrom. For both the one and the other, is preiudiciall to his ho­nour; [Page 207] which ought alwayes to be con­formed vnto the conscience, which is the infallible touch-stone of truth: in such sort, that we must not be wilfully obstinate in the eager pursuit of an vn­iust quarrell, being accused by our owne consciences. For sithence veri­ty is such, that no man can liue vnfaul­ty in this world, he is to be accounted worthy of greatest praise, that most carefully obserueth it; and hauing de­clined, redeemes his errour, by ren­dring due and rightfull satisfaction for the same. Wherfore he is so farre from meriting any blame, that oftentimes he augmenteth his honour and repu­tation, because like a man he gouernes himselfe by the lawes of reason & mo­desty; there being nothing more vn­iust, more dishonest, then scornfully to reiect or disesteeme the same; for that a man is only a man, as long as the acti­ons of his life are guided by the address of Reason. For that wch is atchieued by her helpful directions, is seemely, and good, & alwaies praised of all: but that [Page 208] which is attempted without her con­sent, is vnseemely and naught, and al­waies blamed of all. Therefore let vs say:

True Honour, that on vertue
grounded is,
Guerdoneth man
with true felicity:
But what on vice and falshood
founded is,
Doth wrap him in
distresse and miserie.

The pretended ground of Quar­rels is, false Honour: which causeth a man to be the Author of his owne destruction.
CHAP. X.

A Quarrell is the com­plainte of an offence, which wee pretend to haue been done against our Honour. Honour is assaulted eyther by word or deede. The deede lieth in the violence of the hand of him, that is offensiue either to body or goods.

Yet notwithstanding a noble mind, groundeth not his quarrell, on any detriment, procurde either through the ransacking of goods, or grieuance of a blowe receiued; but on the offence, which may diuers wayes redound thence, vnto his Honour.

[Page 210]For such as haue the enioyance of more eminent places then others, ad­uanced thereunto, eyther by lineall descent, or their proper merites, make small or no account at all of wealth, but as it is the instrument of glory on­ly: and therefore doe not thinke eyther losse of goods, or other af­flictions, to bee iniurious disgraces, as long as their Honour is not inter­ressed. For if iniury be properly de­fin'd an vniust action; and in that vn­iust action bee also ransacking of goods; they neuer account any thing vniustly done against them, when they are spoyled of nothing, which they rightly tearme their own goods; which is the pretious treasure of their Honour. As for example: a man of armes, addressing himselfe vnto the warres, incountreth his enemy face to face, is vanquished, is exceedingly abu­sed in his person, loseth his goods, re­ceiueth wounds, and payes a ransome: yet for all this, he shall not make a par­ticular complaint hereof, because hee hath [Page 211] not lost any thing of his owne; that is to say, which hath beene preiudiciall to his Honour: and therefore hauing lost nothing of his owne proper and principall good, it consequently fol­loweth that it cannot properly be said to be an action of iniury.

But if his Honour be reproached, and his reputation defamed, hee is much iniured; & in righting himselfe for such a disgrace, he seeketh satisfa­ction, so much the more discreetely, the more worthily, by how much his courses are more conformable to the lawes: which neuer constraine any one to endure that, which is a blemish vnto his name, and a spot vnto his re­nowne.

Yet because there are diuers quar­rels, which arise daily amongst young brauing gallants; whose ground is on­ly the damage, eyther of goods or bo­dy (when the preiudice of vertue and honour onely ought to be the finall end of our noble resolution) the first causes of such rash and foolish quar­rels [Page 212] should quickly be extinguished (as a fire wanting fewell) if they had not strength of body to swagger it, & great meanes to contribute vnto the charge thereof. For riches and treasures are honourable, being imployd in vertu­ous actions, which is Honours mo­ther: in such sort that the greater the treasures are, which heauen hath pro­fused on great men; the greater is the glorie wherewith it crowneth them. For fulnes and perfection of strength is generallie reuerenced by the Lawe of Nations: which com­mandeth vs to honour those, which can doe much; forasmuch as their de­signes are so much the more excel­lent, by how much they are more able to effect vvhat they vvoulde doe.

Beholde then why vertue (which is not a fained or an imaginarie point) is touched to the quick, when as a­nie one endammageth the meanes of her performances, vvhich haue dependaunce on the bodie and [Page 213] goods: so that good men doo ex­ercise their vertues when as they vse their meanes vvith a prudent hand, and conforme the actions of their bodies vnto Temperaunce, Mode­stie, Magnanimitie, and other hono­rable and woorthie imployments; making both the one and the other to appertaine to the conseruation of their honour.

But vvhen the iniurie by deede pro­ceedeth from swaggering, brauado­ing, and audacious temeritie; such a fantasticall and capricious humour is so irregular, so immoderate, that the repression thereof deserues no meane reward: and then speciallie, vvhen the rebuker shall not haue anie pecu­liar interest therein. But when the disgrace or iniurie is directed vnto him, he is so much the more earnestly prouoked, by how much the more his courage & manhood is called into questiō by the ouerweening faucines of the offender. For whether this audacious swaggerer, desire to make proof therof, [Page 214] and so he be incited through the dispa­ragement of this affront: or, whether he proceeded so rashly, that he imagi­neth the partie that incountreth him, to be of too base a minde, to dare to make shew of reuenge; Both the one and the other intention offendeth, and giueth sufficient cause of complaint, because the honour thereby is much impeacht.

This ought to be vnderstood to be amongst men of equall strength, or betweene such as are of small disparity. For if the greater outbraue the lesser, the infamy redounds vnto the assaul­ter; because the inequalitie of strength debarres him, from the meanes of working his reuenge. And no action that is constrained, can beget disho­nour; no more then an action can be honourable that is not free.

Touching the iniury by word; it is eyther reproachfull detraction, or gy­bing foppery: for both the one and the other, hath a bitter relish in the in­genuous apprehension of a generous spirit.

[Page 215]The first, which is detraction, plants the massacring petard of a slaunderous obloquie, against the gates of vertue; to batter downe the Palace of Honor: he sayes that honour is vnder vice, and so confoundeth the glory thereof; it being onely maintained by the sup­portance of vertue. And although this aspersion be full of vntruthes, yet notwithstanding it shakes the whole Fabricke; in such sort, that it is alwaies ready to tumble downe, and cannot easily be reduced vnto its former estate againe. For Honour ought to be still preserued so pure, so spotlesse, that it should be free from the least blot or blemish whatsoeuer. For this reason calumnious imputations were vtter­ly condemned, by all lawes, both di­uine and humane. And because mali­tious detraction hath helpe, of spuing forth its venemous poyson, as well by writing as wording; all defamatory and reproachfull Libels haue alwayes bin seuerely censured.

The second, which is gybing mocke­ry, [Page 216] are words which very much offend, especiallie being spoken by a scorne­full spirit, which is the source and foun­taine of disdaine, affording argument of vice and mischiefe, and consequent­lie much abating the value of true Honour: whether because a person that is well borne conceiues thereby a sudden shame (vvhich kindleth his passions with an angrie choler, being as yet but greene in yeeres) or a grea­ter indignation; hauing through the maturitie of his age, attainde vnto discretion to iudge of an offence: vvhich is then indeede when wise­dome and experience should furnish him with so much vnderstanding, that hee should not giue occasion to bee flouted at. VVhosoeuer, then, is prouoked in this sort, cannot chuse but conceiue a great deale of discon­tent. For indeede if it bee a difficult thing to a man of worth, to see him­selfe not priz'd according to his me­rite; vvhat spight and vexation would it bee vnto him, to see whatsoeuer [Page 217] hee eyther saide or did, to bee con­temptuouslie derided at. Yet not­withstanding, those of the vviser sort, doe not thinke it fit to take euerie worde in dudgeon, that is spoken pleasantlie, because it is not the worde that should offend, but the intention of him that thrusteth it out, as the gun-powder the bullet. Wherefore we ought to obserue that, more then the vvorde, although it seeme at first to bee outrageous. For euen as praises and commenda­tions brought out in a scuru [...]e fleering manner, from a depraued intenti­on, and a malignant spirit, doe great iniurie, and giue sufficient occasion of quarrell: Euen so a bitter and a tart iest which issueth not from a rancorous disposition, should not prouoke a man to take an offence too suddainely.

The vprightnes & equity of a quar­rel grounded on words solely depen­deth on the intentiō of the speaker; be­cause it is it that determineth al our ac­tiōs, al our speakings, either to be good [Page 218] or euill. For euen as the will giueth motion vnto the members, whereby they stirre and doe any thing: euen so the intention is the first beginner, of eyther the good, or the euill, which they doe.

Moreouer, beside the intention, this equity may be restrained vnto certain circumstances; which a man of worth, and great esteeme (which should not auoide combate onely, but debate also and contention) ought to consider be­fore he imbarke himselfe, into any rash and vnaduised quarrell; yea, al­though the wickednesse of the inten­tion were apparantly discerned. For he that speaketh, doth oftentimes vse such generall termes: so that if any one in­terpret them particularly to concerne his owne person, hee is vniust in his quarrell, and offereth iniury vnto him­selfe. For applying them to his owne life, and seeming to be much nettled thereby, he doth nothing else but proclaime himselfe culpable by his owne detection; and induceth others [Page 219] to beleeue, that the sting of his owne conscience vrgeth him within, and so enforceth him to search outwardly for an excuse, before he be accused. Ther­fore it is neyther lawfull nor honou­rable, to except against any wordes, which may by any meanes beare an interpretation of pleasant mirth.

But aboue all wordes of base dispa­ragement, that is reputed to be most offensiue, which accuseth a man for breaking his word; because it is most vnlawfull for vs (although it be with great preiudice) to violate our faith, or to faile in performance: for (our pri­uate intercourse amongst men, wholly depending thereon) he that falsifieth his faith, or credite, doth deale trea­cherously with a publique society, and dissolueth all the bands of commerce and amity. Againe, hee that passeth his word and credit, and yet obserueth them not, maketh himselfe a lyer; and so consequently depriueth himselfe of that honour, which no man but him­selfe, could robbe him of: and by the [Page 220] same meanes drawes vnto himselfe a note of cowardise, and perfidious trea­chery. Therefore if a false and for­ged imputation be a sufficient and law­full cause of quarrelling, the promise-breaker then giues iust occasion of the like reuenge. For, this is to tax him with an argument of disestimation, whereof it concerneth him to cleare himselfe. And therefore a man being accused of perfidiousnes, ought to doe the vttermost that hee can possible to make the contrary appeare vnto the world through iust & lawful meanes: to the end that he may redeem his doubt­ful reputation from so foule a blemish.

There are other kinds of quarrells which are grounded only on iealous surmises, which oftentimes are found amongst your vniuster sort. For the first motion heereof proceedes from enuie, which neuer harbours in a no­ble breast, and such a one as is gene­rously borne: whom it behoueth to excell all others in all kinds of woor­thy qualities, and to loue vertue with [Page 221] such a sincere affection, that all such as are indued therewith, should be deare and pretious in his sight; and there­fore farre from contemptible hatred. Hee should be sorry to see the igno­rance, brutishnes, and miseries of ano­ther, and not grieue to behold the ex­cellencie, wisedome, and felicitie of his companion. Whosoeuer quarrel­leth with any through enuie, is a testi­monie to proue (against his owne in­tentiō) the honesty of him with whom he contendeth; and giueth thereby a sufficient shew vnto the world of the wrong, vvhich he offereth him, foras­much as no one can iustly complaine against a vertuous man. Behold ther­fore what the foundation whereon the greatest part of quarrells are whollie grounded. I haue not vndertaken here to declare vnto you the order & maner of proceeding in them, nor yet the rea­son for the determinatiō of them being entred into; but the remedies alone of auoiding & flying frō thē aswell in not departing from vertue, by doing such [Page 222] things as are contrary to duety and honesty, as also in not eyther working or wording that, which may enforce vs to an vnlawfull combat; in the which a man hazardeth his Honour, his life, his soule, in sacrificing himselfe vnto his blinded passion. For there is no greater ignorance, or folly in the heart of man, then to bee willing to make God the Iudge and Vmpire of his Du­ell (which is so odious and abhomina­ble in his eyes) vnder a false, and diuel­lish kinde of hope, that his iust iudge­ment will iudge vniustly, to fauour vs.

But to eschue the detestable com­bats (which shipwracke our soules) we must take heede of the tempestuous gusts (that driue vs so vehemently a­gainst these rockes) which are the ra­ging stormes of our owne choler: whereof I presently intend to speake.

The Description of Choler; of the euils which pro­ceede from it, of the causes which produce it, of the meanes of corre­cting it; and consequently of auoyding contentions and debates.
CHAP. XI.

CHoler is a hood that blin­deth the eyes of reason, and hindereth them from beholding the resplen­dent lustre of true Honor: it inueagleth man in so strange a man­ner, that he embraceth counterfeit and false honour, and inseparably depriues himselfe of the reward of vertue.

It is a passion, that disturbeth not onely those that are vassals to her com­maunding [Page 224] sway, with infinite incum­brances; but all such also, as conuerse with them. So that there is no place or region within the bounds & limits of her iurisdiction, where loue and a­mitie may liue together, secure and free from the brutish noise, and hellish molestation of contentious brawles. It is a raging tempest, that breaketh downe the masts and rudders of our liues; tumbling and tossing our fraile barkes, in the soule-swallowing surges of our franticke furies; renting the cardes of our conuoye, and taking from our sight the starre of our direc­tion, and leaueth with vs neither help nor hope.

It is a wild fire, that burnes whatsoe­uer it come neere vnto: whose all-de­uouring flames cannot bee extingui­shed, but with wondrous difficultie, if it bee permitted neuer so little time to diffuse it selfe. In such sort that a cho­lericke and angry man, may be said, to differ nothing from a madde man: saue only in regard of time; because it [Page 225] is perpetuall in the one, and but tem­porary in the other.

Which ought to bee an incitation vnto all those that doe desire a peace­full rest in their owne soules (and not to be a raging fire-brand, and a tortu­ring grieuance vnto others) to be mar­ueilous carefull to shunne this mon­strous passion; sithence it is the roote, and source, of the greatest part of con­tentions, causeless brawles, and bloudy combats, which set the world in a confused vprore.

To auoide the danger of this hidi­ous monster, wee are first to consider the manifolde inconueniences and mischieuous euills, which it doth be­get: then afterwards the chiefest cau­ses: and last of all the meanes and re­medies, of conquering it.

As for the euils which it doth beget, the first and greatest is: that at her first entrance shee quite extinguisheth the light of reason; through whose depri­uation, our affaires are destitute of all helpe and counsell. Shee dealeth like a [Page 226] bloud-thirsty Tyrant, which spoyles the State, and taketh away all coun­sell from the kingdome which he pos­sesseth, suffering no one to remaine aliue, which may contradict, or op­pose himselfe to his designes; to the end that all things may bee done ac­cording to the desires of his depraued wil. For hauing after this maner force­ably taken, from vs, our reason, our counsell, and our iudgement, shee vn­iustly vsurpeth ouer our persons; and maketh vs to proceede vnaduisedlie in all our actions, by the violent insti­gation of our rash, disordered and o­uerbearing fury.

Whence it may bee inferred, that si­thence angry and impetuous choler bereaueth vs of the perfect vse of Rea­son, it is the subuersion of other ver­tues. She inuerteth pietie through her mischieuous and blasphemous periu­ries: charity, through brutish & inhu­mane crueltie: iustice, through vio­lence: and sober modesty, through raging fury.

[Page 227]Shee hindreth man, from thinking on that which hee ought to doe; and will not permit him, either to follow or beleeue good counsell: for she pos­sesseth him, with such an ouerweening presumption, that he accounteth no mans counsell to bee compar'd vnto his owne aduise. Moreouer, she steeps his tongue, in gall and vinegar: so that it can produce nothing but that, which may bee bitter and sharpe to others; and so hereby maketh him liable to much calamitie. For from wordes they proceede to blowes, from blowes to combats, from combats to lamen­table deaths: which are detested, both of God and men. The causes which [...]eget choler, are pride, presumption, impatience and temerity.

Pride depriueth vs of the know­ledge of our selues: and not only that, but bereaueth vs also of humilitie, which is necessarilie requisite vnto a vertuous man; seruing him in stead of a curbing bridle, to moderate the violence and fury of his Passion; dis­posing [Page 228] it orderly vnto the course of reason.

Presumption obscureth the lustre of Prudence, which should enlighten man in the prosecuting and atchieuing of all his purposes. Impatience de­stroyeth Temperance: whose helpfull assistance mans necessitie doth very earnestly require, to preserue his in­clinations, and desires, in a golden meane, and to be the moderatrix of all his actions.

Temeritie is the accursed inuerter of equity and iustice in man, constrai­ning him both to doe and say al things without reason, al things without coun­sell. Whosoeuer is subiect vnto this vice is most vnwoorthie of anie great command.

Light beliefe is also an especiall cause of choler. For it often falls out, that hee that hath tender cares, hath bloudy hands: because detraction and obloquie, engender much discontent in the mindes of those, that desire to hear them. Wherfore to enioy a peace­full [Page 229] quietnes, wee must not nourish a calumnious flatterer, by giuing op­portunitie to his knauish prattle. For whosoeuer is facilely inclin'd to li­sten vnto them, is not farre from choler, from bloud, from mur­ther.

The meanes of remedying this pas­sion, is to anticipate our choler, and to range it according to the direction of reason; and not to attend it till the rage be kindled: but at the selfe same point of time assoone as we haue any sensible perceiuance of any alteration in our spirits, or that the pulses of our hearts haue somewhat a nimbler and a stron­ger motion then appertaines to a good and perfect temperature, wee ought to doe vnto it as to a fire, which wee quench with all diligence, assoone as it is kindled; not look­ing on it, till it hath seised on the ioysts and rafters of the house: be­cause, when all things should bee im­braced by the fearefull and mer­cilesse flames, it is in vaine to [Page 230] seeke for helpe. In like manner wee ought not to deferre the application of our remedy, till such time as wee be scorcht, and burnt, with the furious flames of our incensed choler: but, euen when we perceiue passion within vs, and occasions without vs, egging and spurring vs forwards to this fierie rage, wee must at the very instant im­ploy all the faculties of our soules, to mainetaine our safety, and to resist the violence which assaulteth vs. For there is a meane to preserue our selues there-from (as from a Tyrant) by not yeelding obedience at first, nor suffe­ring it to haue any power or authority ouer vs. But if we giue it time and lea­sure to extend and fortifie it selfe, it will get the start of vs, by little and lit­tle, and at last become to bee inuinci­ble.

And because the tongue is a verie dangerous instrument of choler, it importeth vs also to bee marueilous vigilant, and carefull to obserue, what & how great faults this passion makes [Page 231] vs guilty of by talking, when our tongue is at libertie, to the end that we may restraine it, with prudent circum­spection, within the railes that are or­dain'd by nature, as its prison.

But if euery one would remember his condition & qualitie in this world, bidding his last adieu to pride and pre­sumption, through humilitie: or had wee reapt so much profit in vertues schoole, as to haue brought all our af­fections subiect vnto reason: had wee learned there, to beare with iust indif­ferencie both paines and pleasures, labours and rest, penury and plentie, griefe and gladnesse, and to haue fra­med al our conuersation with Tempe­rance; without all contradiction, wee should not haue beene so propense, so prone, to be enrag'd with choler as we are.

And who can imagine vs able to vn­dergoe any great imployments, or to sustaine such violent passions (as of­tentimes assaultes a vertuous man) when as wee are so easily surmounted [Page 232] and ouercome by choler? and that pleasant conceited syllable, or a little word slipping out vnawares, should so vvaspe vs, and so farre transport vs beyond our selues, that wee should seeme not to haue asmuch as one scruple of eyther constancie or rea­son?

Let vs therefore learne to barraca­do the doores of our hearts, against the forcible assaults of choler; fortifi­ing them so securelie on euery quar­ter, that it may haue no incourage­ment to attempt to enter. For there is no heart more valorous, or courage stouter, then that, which can represse the fury of his passion: nor worthyer trophies them those, which maie bee procur'd from our selues: nor tri­umphs more glorious or magnificent, then when our reasō can lead our con­quered affections as slauish seruants and seruile captiues. Which if they could preuaile, and get the victorie, they vvould insult like bloudy minded Tyrants ouer vs; taking away by cru­ell [Page 233] violence, the peacefull tranquillitie and pleasures of the soule, which ver­tue giues to Honour, as solacing asso­ciates; being the chiefest, the comfor­tablest companions, that mans heart can wish for. And of these I meane to treat in this chapter following.

The description of true rest, and perfect pleasure, wherwith Vertue accompa­nieth Honour; accomplish­ing man, with all felicitie.
CHAP. XII.

ALL men naturally desire pleasure and ease; and la­bour in the world to no other end, but to settle themselues in such an e­state, as may crowne their affections with content. All their practises and indeauours, all their plots and coun­sells, all their restlesse purposes, and [Page 235] painefull enterprises, aime at no other marke but this. But who is it that fin­deth what hee searcheth for? Euerie one complaines on the misery of his owne condition, and bewailes the peruersitie of his froward fortunes, in­forming the world by these his dole­full moanes, that he continues still vn­satisfied.

The reason hereof is, because hee seeketh in this life, that which is not heere; and therefore it is impossible to be found. They search with watchfull eyes, and restlesse hearts, that celestiall pearle, in the dunghill of the world, which is reseru'd in heauen, for those that will exclaime against the vanities of the world, and the fraile incertain­tie of all things therein: for those (I say) that bend all their studies, to ex­tirpate the loue and liking, which they beare towards the world, out of their hearts and minds, presenting them by the assistance of vertuous contempla­tions, vnto the GOD of heauen; In whom they obtaine (as in a hauen of [Page 236] securitie) that sweet repose, and quiet comfort, which they sought in this life, with an earnest & vehement, but a fruitless pursuite. For we learne by in­fallible demonstrations, deduced from the knowledge of our owne selues, that this life on earth, is but as it were a pil­grimage, a short (yet tedious) iourney, whereby we trauell, or tend towards another place, which is celestial: wher­fore wee ought to demeane both our selues, and substances, with such a golden moderation (whether it bee in giuing satisfactions to our vrgent necessities, or elss in our pleasances & delightful recreations) that al conspire for the aduancement of vs, vnto that o­ther place which is the celestial treasu­ry of our soueraigne good.

It is a thing maruailous ful of dif­ficultie to be attain'd vnto: but being gained, it is as ful of profit, ease, and pleasure; yea such a thing, as in the acquisition whereof, no paines or perills should seeme hard, or feare­full.

[Page 237]For, this is a prize so precious, that the least and meanest particle thereof, is throughlie sufficient (of it selfe) to recompence a worlde of paines.

And because the remonstrances and characters which may bee composed, setting forth vertues beauty and excel­lencie, gentlie inuiting vs to imbrace her; and the manifold discourses of vice shewing vnto the world her vg­lie, monstrous, and deformed shape, enforcing vs to detest and hate her; are not sufficient remedies to cure our depraued passions, and to appease the perturbations of our spirits; pleasures and paines are pro­pos'd vnto vs in the schoole of ver­tue, to be the Directrices of al our acti­ons; the one seruing as a rewarde and salarie to encourage vs to vertue, the other as a torture to deterre vs from vice: for there are no intendments, or actions eyther plotted or perfor­med, but it is through the considera­tion [Page 238] and respect either of the one or o­ther.

It remaineth therefore, in the con­clusion and vpshot of this little tract, to represent vnto you, what and how wondrous great the delectation and pleasure is, which a vertuous man rea­peth in the inioyance of this rich and great treasure of honour and happi­nes, which vertue endoweth him with very profusely heere in this life, but most aboundantly in the life to come. Let vs therefore knowe, what pleasure and delectation is.

Wee define it to be a contentment, ful of pleasure and delight, proceeding from a perfect action, accompanied with the knowledge and vnderstan­ding thereof.

Sensible creatures are capable of ac­tion: but because it is without the vn­derstanding of such things as they doe, they cannot haue any delectation thence.

Yet notwithstanding euery action, done with knowledge, doth not beget [Page 239] pleasure and delectation. It must bee perfect also, if you will haue it pleasant. For imperfection, and defect, breede alwayes more displeasure, then con­tent.

Two things are necessary to the perfect accomplishment of an acti­on; and so by consequence to the frui­tion of pleasure.

A good constitution, in the faculty that worketh, and in the obiect also whereon it worketh.

There is small comfort in looking on any thing, when the eye is badde, and the obiect worse. And poore con­tent (God knowes) shall a man enioie in hearing, when as the eare is (almost) deafe, and the musicke dull: But if the prospectiue which we beholde, be full of glory, and the eye good, the mu­sick curious, and the eare acute, then shal our eie content vs with beholding: and our eare with hearing. The like may bee said of the other senses. Fur­thermore all delectation is not indiui­duall: for there are diuers (yea as ma­nie) [Page 240] sorts of them, as there are per­fect actions done vvith vnderstan­ding.

Euery action that is ioyn'd vvith knowledge, issueth from the senses, and is perfected by them. Thence it is, that there being in man two sorts of senses, senses of the bodie, and sen­ses of the soule: there are also found in him, two sorts of actions, one of the body, the other of the soule: and two kinds likewise of delectations; the one corporeall, the other spirituall.

The delectation of the body, is exter­nall, and proceedeth from the perfect actions of the externall senses, which are fiue in number (euery one of them hauing a delectation proper vnto it selfe, and which it most affecteth) to weet, seeing, hearing smelling, tasting, and touching: so that there is nothing more admirable amongst the workes of nature, then the senses naturall combination, and their subiection to the body.

The spirituall delectation is inter­nall, [Page 241] and issueth from the perfect acti­on of the faculties of the soule: so that, the more perfect the action is, the more pleasant is its delectation: And by how much also the facultie is more excellent, and the obiect more per­fect, so much the perfecter shall the action bee; and so by consequence somuch the greater shal its pleasure be.

Wherefore it followeth, that the de­lectation which proceedeth from the perfect actions of the soule, doth farre surpasse the other, issuing from the actions of the body: because the pow­ers and faculties of the soule are farre more efficacious and excellent then those of the body, according to the proportion of the soule aboue the bo­dy, & as much as the obiect of the soule (which properly is vertue and veritie) doth surmount in excellency all the obiects of the corporeall senses: so that the true ioy, true peace, and true rest of the soule (wherein only consisteth true and perfect pleasure) beare great correspondency with truth & vertue.

[Page 242]There is no delectation then, which is truely worthie to be desired by man, but that which proceedeth from the actions of the soule; that onely being peculiar vnto him, sithence beasts participate of all other as well as he.

And albeit the body haue its distinct pleasures apart from the soule, yet they cannot be either truely pleasant or laudable in man, if they be not con­tain'd within the precincts of modera­tion and vertue.

I will grant a man to haue as acute an eye as the sharp-sighted Lynx, and that hee stand contemplating on the fairest, the most admired obiect of the world, hee may certainely conceiue some pleasure from such an action: but if it be wanton, lewd, erronious, too much, or to a wicked end, that action neither is, nor ought to be ima­gin'd laudable. For their is no true and laudable pleasure without perfection, nor any perfection but within the lists of vertue.

Furthermore, amongst corporall [Page 243] pleasures some are natural, others vici­ous and superfluous.

The naturall pleasures are indiffe­rent, and are either good or bad, accor­ding to their vse and end vnto the which they are referd. For being vsed with mediocritie, and applyed only vnto their owne proper end (which is preseruation of health, and continu­ance of the bodies perfect disposition) they are then (without question) wor­thy to be prais'd; much lesse then, to be either reiected or despised.

Such as shew themselues to bee of too austere and rugged a disposition, in the inioyance and vse of naturall pleasure, are too too extreame. For God did not make the creatures of the world only to serue vs, and our neces­sities; but that they should also afford vs pleasure and delight. Which may easilie be proued by the varietie of the manifold and curious colours, the di­uersity of harmonious sounds, the dif­ferences of pleasant tastes, and multi­plicitie of fragrant smells, which hee [Page 244] particularly hath appropriated vnto e­uery kinde of creature; shewing there­by to haue had more regard to giue cō ­tent & pleasure to our senses, then food and sustenance vnto our bodies.

Whence it may be inferd, that super­fluity (which is both vaine and vicious in all things being eschewed, we ought not to refuse or shew our selues disdain­full, to accept the honest pleasures and moderate delights, which God doth offer to vs in his Creatures; and there­fore are not eyther to be reiected or despised.

The seuere Stoickes (which would haue the desires of men euen in these moderate inioyances of delectation, to be stupid and senseless) are as sharp­ly censured, as the dissolute and loose Epicures, vvhich take from their strong-headed affections, Reasons bri­dle; being alwayes too tractable to the vaine inducements of sensuall appe­tite.

For such as would depriue man of his naturall affections, because they [Page 245] dispose and allure him vnto certaine vices, may be fitly likened vnto those, that obstinately maintaine, that none ought to drink wine, because often­times it makes some men drunk; or that a man should not ride a gallop, for that diuers men haue beene destroyed thereby.

But what should become of vs, if we were intirely despoyled of our na­turall affections? We should haue no more power to turne either to the one hand, or the other, then if a dead palsie had benumm'd our senses.

The affections are the nerues, and synnewes of the spirit: which serue to contract, to slacken, to lift vp, to lay downe, to stirre and settle her, where­soeuer shee will; euen as the body is mooued and remooued, by its liga­ments. VVherefore they ought to be preserv'd and moderated; not taken a­way and vtterly destroyed. We are to i­mitate in this a wel experienced horse­man; who for to tame and manage well his horse, will not take from him [Page 246] agilitie, and courage; but endeauours especially to bring him to runne, to turne, to rise, to curuct, to stand, how and when it pleaseth him, and not ac­cording to the horses will: Euen so when as we perceiue our affections in­clining to stubborne disobedience, we must correct and reforme them with iudgement & reason, and not attempt indiscreetly wholly to mortifie and ex­tinguish them.

We must not then disallow, and re­proue naturall pleasures, in the like sort as we doe such as are vicious and superfluous, nor yet condemne the de­sire of them or their fruition. For both in the one and the other, that meane may be observ'd, which is commended in all things.

Yet howsoeuer, we must not take so much pleasure and delight, that it pre­iudice the health and safety of our soules; nor yet so little, that our bodies growe feeble and sickly, through de­fect thereof. In so doing, whosoeuer recreateth himselfe with the moderate [Page 247] delectation of an honest pleasure, shall be much better reputed, then hee that voluntarilie refuseth so great a good, which freely prostitutes it selfe to his acceptance. For hee neglecteth it, ey­ther through despisall, superstition, or arroganee: thinking to seeme more wise in refusing, then his Creatour was in offering it.

As for vicious and dishonest plea­sures, they are to be detested, of neces­sitie: sithence such as are ingendred by gourmandizing and ebrietie, doe not onely make men like to beasts, but a great deale worse.

For they neuer eate and drink with such a greedy insatietie, but that they haue alwayes remembrance and pow­er to retire themselues into their owne nests and dennes; whereas man tunnes such disproportionate measure of wine into his belly, that reason and iudge­ment (for all their shifts) are drowned in the deluge: through losse of whom, he that (ere whiles) was rationall (but now insensible) vnknowes his friends, [Page 248] his familiar acquaintance, his seruants, nay himself. Moreouer; his capacity of wine destroyes the capacity of his wit, & makes him absolutely vnfit for any performances; beside the wrong it doth vnto his reputation, to the health of his body, and (which is worst of all) to the safety of his soule.

Voluptuous sensualitie, and worldly delight, are alwayes inseparable from a gluttonous belly; which haue the pow­er to transforme men into hogges, vt­terly depriuing them of the loue and knowledge of vertue & honesty. Such as hunt after them, are induced there­vnto by an apparant resemblance of true felicitie promised by voluptie: but they find themselues (incontinently) strangely benumm'd both bodies and soules; in such sort, that the one can deliberate and determine nothing but that which is dishonest: & the other is as impotent in the execution of good: and so at last it is the vtter ouerthrowe both of their sense and reason.

Volupty is not a iot more gracious [Page 249] vnto wealth & riches, thē it is vnto the soul & body: for there is no patrimony or inheritance, so infinite in the world, which it wil not deuour in a little time. The greatest treasury that euer was seen or heard of, was that of the Ro­manes. For beside the pillage of gold & siluer which they rauaged from all the richest cities & kingdoms of the earth, the reuenewes also of the Prouinces were yearly brought in to maintain ex­pences & supply their wants: And yet notwithstāding, the voluptuous prodi­gality of one Heliogabalus, of one Cō ­modus, of one Caligula, or of one Nero hath clean exhausted it within 2. years.

It is not only through want of bread and wine that Venus waxeth cold, but also through the penury of gold & sil­uer. For besides the heauy expences which are required for the maintenāce of volupty; what & how many disburs­ments must there be, not only for the preparation of curious feasts and ban­quets, but also for inuesting our proud selues in rich & gay apparel, hoping to [Page 250] seeme thereby magnificent? Is it pos­sible (vnles men were bereav'd of the vse of reason, nay of common sense) that they should buy at so deare a rate, not repentance onely, but pouertie, shame, derision and disdaine? what doe I say? nay: the indignation of Heauen and the flames of hell.

It seemeth (all things considered) not repugnant to reason, to attribute vnto such, the titles of forelorne and hopeless castawayes. For how can they be reputed lesse, which with so scorne­full a heele kicke at prudence and rea­son, contemne vertue and honestie, neglect their soules, destroy their bo­dies, profuse their gold, their siluer, their substances, their reuenues, and whatsoeuer else is theirs, with so prodi­gall, so vaine, and so needlesse a lauish­ment? And last of all, vtterlie to aban­don the country, which first nourisht them?

Those that seeke their beatitude in vicious, wanton, and worldly pleasures, thinking that they obtaine the same [Page 251] when they enioy them; are they not exceeding wide from what they aimed at? yea certainely, so much the wider, for that their mindes being preposses­sed by the cunning seizure of false per­swasions, debarre them from hearke­ning vnto that, which would willinglie and freelie acquainte them with their transgressions, redeeme them from that misery, and euidently declare vn­to them wherin true and perfect bea­titude consisteth. For indeede we can­not be crossed with greater infelicitie, then by establishing our happiness in that, in which alone consists our mise­rie; and in that also we being misera­ble, cannot imagine our selues to be so, nor credit those that doe perswade the same.

Prosperitie and welfare is vntimelie wisht for by any, saue only those that are capable thereof, and with an ear­nest zeale desire the same. Which the vicious and wicked cannot doe; be­cause the way which they perseuere in, and which seemeth vnto them faire, [Page 252] pleasant, and spacious, doth lead them to perdition.

Wherefore hee that vvanteth that which he loueth, cannot be called hap­py: Neither can he vvhich hath that which he loueth, if that which he hath be any way offensiue: Neither may he be accounted happy, which hath that which is singularlie good and profita­ble, if he loue not that, which he hath: because those which couet that, where­vnto they cannot attaine, doe alwaies rest exceedingly tormented. Such as haue that, which they ought not to desire, are not onelie beguiled, but much abused too: and such as desire not that, which is requisite to the ac­complishment of their felicitie, are crazie, wey-ward, and disdainefull: which cannot be by any meanes, ex­cept he to whom it happeneth alwayes remaine a miserable wretch.

Therefore we say, that all true plea­sure and delectation proceedeth from an action that is perfect. And the spi­rituall actions of the soule, being much [Page 253] more able to attaine vnto a high per­fection then the others of the body, which only crawle along vppon the ground; It behooueth man to settle his pleasure and content in them. But these also cannot be said to be truely perfect (and so by consequence not de­lectable) except they beare a consen­ting vniformitie with Reason.

Wherefore it followeth of necessity, that the highest and heartiest pleasure is found in the inioyance of vertue; because shee perswadeth vs to loue and imbrace that which is truely good.

But there is no good, so good as God. He is the beginning, source, and fountaine of all goods, that are within the reach of our desires.

Wherefore it importeth vs (if wee wish for true content and blessed hap­pines) to extend our desires euen vn­to God himselfe. He is the sole and perfect obiect, which our soules ought to propose vnto themselues. He is the ende of endes, and the last marke which vertue aimeth at. He is the de­light [Page 254] of all delights: He giueth delecta­tation, without tedious satiety, without end.

He is a paradise of solide pleasures.
He is a sunne, whose glory still doth shine.
H' is water, sprinkling our hearts-sprouting treasures.
H' is such, whose essence no one can define.

VVhat is it then, that hindreth vs from being inflamed with the loue of Vertue? sithence by her sweete con­duct, wee gaine the possession of so great a treasure. Shee hideth not her selfe from our beholdings; but alwaies obiecteth vnto our eye, the radiant lustre of her beautious face, hoping to entice our dull and senselesse hearts, to be enamored with the accomplisht perfection which is reflected on vs, from the golden rayes of her resplen­dent glory.

There is no remedy: we must needs take heart, and courageously surpasse those encountring difficulties, which stand in the very entrance of her Tem­ple. Nothing that is rare and excel­lent, can be atchiev'd without paines [Page 255] and industrie. For, nature hath anexed difficultie vnto greatnes, to crown the atchieuement with the greater Honor.

Sithence then there is nothing more excellent then vertue, in whose right hand is held the palme of Glory, and in whose left a crowne of Honour; Let all our designes stand on tip-toe to reach vnto her: Let vs spare no labours nor paines, no toyles nor trauailes, to gaine the societie of so gracious a Guide; sithence by her, only we mount to heauen. Wee behold her alwayes there permanent, although very few present themselues vnto her, or desire inioyance of her deerest selfe. The greatest part of men haue a farre better liking of the faire & spacious wayes of vice; preferring her silkē carpet strew­ed with the choisest and most fragrant sorts of flowers, before the rocks and thornes of vertues path: whereby we shew, that we are either ignorant in chusing; or that we chuse peruersly what we ought not to chuse.

Knowe, man, whatsoeuer thou art, [Page 256] that vertue can onely ennoblish thee with honor & glory, to accōplish thee with true goodnes & perfect pleasures, to exalt thee vnto the heauēs, & to co-vnite thee & thy soule with God. Here­in consisteth al mans felicity: and vnto this is referred whatsoeuer is con­tained in the Golden Cabi­net of true Trea­sure.

FINIS LIBRI.
Officium beneuoli animi, finem non habet.

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