Of Gods Providence.

I Will begin my first Observati­on (which from a childe I have seriously considered) with the contemplation of Gods Providence, which is never [Page 2] wanting to the protection of them, and their posteri­ty, who in singlenesse of heart have sought, and sin­cerely served him all their lives; averring with David, Psa. 37.25 that I never saw the righte­ous forsaken, nor his seed begging their bread.

When on the contrary, Oppressors, Atheists, cruell men, idle and lewd livers have with the curse of Ru­ben, Gen. 49.4. beene as water spilt up­on the ground: they have either sunke into the earth, or ran without consistence, every one his severall way so farre, that their place of Birth or Being in a second or third generation hath [Page 3] beene quite lost, and utter­ly forgotten:Ps. 37.35. I have seene the ungodly flourish, &c.

I never knew any sacrile­gious Vultur digest that which hee snatched from the Altar; or any demoli­sher of Churches, or such as had converted them to prophane uses; as turning them into Stables, Sheep­coats, (after the depopu­lation of the whole Town) thrive in their estates: and many of them have I knowne to have come to infamous and desperate ends, yea, being their owne executioners.

I have againe observed the especiall providence [Page 4] and Goodnesse of God ex­tended toward the meanest & poorest, whom the world hath contemned [...] as a poore man in the country, who by his onely hand-labour ear­ning a groat or six pence by the day, to have brought up a charge of sixe or seven Children: who (poore things) get seldome their bellies full of bread, and their drinke is many times (as I have seene it) but a roasted Crab, crush'd into a dish of faire water; and for the greatest part of the yeere goe bare-footed, and bare-legged: yet common­ly, like Daniel with his pulse, are they as fresh-co­loured, [Page 5] healthy, cheerefull, as free from diseases as the best mens children in the Coun [...]rey, who usually are pampred, & cramm'd with the greatest dainties that may be gotten, many times till their bellies are ready to burst: And though the Pa­rishes where they are born, commonly a [...]oun [...] of them no better than beggers b [...]ats, not worth the loo­ [...]ing after; and caring not how soone they were rid of them to avoyde charge, yet by the blessing of God, attayning (as many of them have done) to the most eminent places of dig­nity, as well in Church as [Page 6] Cōmon-wealth, they have obliged their native pla­ces to them, by erecting Schools, Hospitalls, Alms-houses, and doing other charitable workes, which of it selfe the whole Pa­rish had never been able to have performed.

I might fill a whole Vo­lume, if I should reckon up all such great and eminent personages the Cottage hath afforded, as principall pillars to the support of our Common-wealth; or tell you what magnificent workes have beene done by Bishops, Lord Majors, and Citizens of London, whose Parents have beene [Page 7] extreame poore and ob­scure; and which is more, not a sonne, but sonnes of one poore man have parti­cipated and shared in hono­rable advancement.

Chicheley, a very poore man of Higham Ferrers in Northampton-shire, about the time of Henry 5. had two sonnes, the on [...] Arch-Bishop of Canterbury, (the founder of All-soules in Ox­ford) and t [...]e other Lord Major of London both at one time. Patten of Wain­ [...]let in Lincoln-shire, a man of meane estate, had also two sonnes, the one was William de Wainflet, Bishop of Winchester, and Foun­der [Page 8] of that magnificent Colledge Magdalens in Oxford, (besides a Schoole at Wainflet, where he was borne) and the other was Deane of Chichester; which brothers, one in the habite of a Bishop, the other of a Deane, support the pil­low under their Fathers head upon his Monument in Wainflet All-hallows Church, who lyeth cut out in Alabaster in a side-coate, a great pouch, and a dudgeon-dagger at his Girdle. I could instance many others even of our owne times, whose meane beginnings no whit can de­rogate from their esteeme [Page 9] worthinesse, but I had ra­ther looke backward, and farther off.

I have also with great comfort observed the mer­cifull goodnesse of God in providing for fatherlesse & motherlesse children, who being left in trust with some hard hearted Executor, or sometime to the miserable mercy of some poore Pa­rish to be maintained, God miraculously hath taken them into his protection, by kindling Love and Pi­tie in the hearts of those who are his, to receive and take them in; they keeping the true Fast which God commandeth in Esay. Esay 58.7. [Page 10] And how in time with their growth, hee guides them with his Grace, to live hone [...]tly, and upright­ly, which were else impos­sible for these young and tender soules to doe; espe­cially in populous Citties, and publicke pl [...]ces, whi­ther they are constrayned at fourteene or fifteene yeeres of age to come up with a silly Countrey-car­rier, and some small summe of money (the benevo­lence of friends) to beare their charges, to seeke services and meanes of li­ving; where they know no body, neither are they [...]nowne of any; being left [Page 11] as poore chickens [...]aving lost their Mother Hen, and defender, unable to pro­tect themselves, to the mer­cilesse mercy of a most cruell and pittilesse Age: wherein besides they are in danger, through want and necessity to be seduced to lewd and ill courses, and as the Wise man saith,Wisd. 1 [...]1 [...] To seeke death in the errour of their lives. Neither hath poverty any thing more unhappy in it, than perver­ting good natures, and drawing them into vitious courses, as a Poet justly complaineth:Mant [...]an. O [...]ala pau­pertas, vitij sceleris (que) mini­stra.

[Page 12]Hence let all Parents, while they are living, bee seriously carefull to the ut­termost of their powers, to provide somthing to main­tain their poore children in their livelihood after their Deaths: if they cannot, to give them that education and knowledge, (in some Art or other) seasoned with the feare of God, that they may bee able to en­counter the manifold mise­ries of this wretched world, and withstand all lewd temptations & allurements unto vice.

And being able in an ho­nest calling to subsist of themselves, blesse God [Page 13] for his care and goodnesse toward them, and say with the Psalmist, When my Fa­ther and Mother forsooke me, thou oh Lord [...]ookest me up: which freely I confesse, I may say my selfe, being left young to the wide world to seek my fortune, and acknowledge the pro­vidence of Almighty God to have attended me both at home, and abroad in other Countries, for which I had rather bee silently thankfull, than to pro­claime the particularities; (which to some may seeme to bee fabulous and incre­dible) and for any thing I know, I and mine [Page 14] must say yet, (though in a farre different condition) with that Noble and great [...]arle of Corke. Earle of Ireland, Gods Providence is our inheri­tance.

Of Schooles and Masters.

THere is no profession more necessary to the erecting the frame of a fa­mous Common-wealth, than that of Schoole-ma­sters, yet none in more dis-esteeme among the common vulgar, yea, and illiterate great ones: I know not the reason of this, except that the grea­ter part of the multitude [Page 15] being ignorant, they are desirous that their children should be so likewise: But I rather beleeve that which I have found true, Reward to be out of reach, and li­vings now a dayes to bee like Lotteries; some prin­cipall prizes, as guilt Ba­sons and Ewers; some of a middle ranke, as Fruite-dishes and Candlesticks; some of the lea [...]t value, as Spoones and Sawcers: yet one of these least many times costs him more than it is worth, in expence of many yeeres in the Vniver­ [...]ity, his labour in search and making of friends, his money (hardly gotten) [Page 16] largely expended, and (as in a Lottery) all this getteth nothing.

Some few prime schooles in England, serve as a foyle for the rest; I meane West­minster, Winchester, Ea­ton, Paules, with some few others, which at this day (as all others in generall) have lost of their former greatnesse and esteeme, not because there are not lear­ned and able Masters, (there being now as suffici­ent as ever) and sound Grammarians among the Schollers, but because men have found shorter cuts in the way of prefer­ment for their children.

[Page 17]Neither doe our Nobi [...]i­ty and Gentry so much a [...] ­fect the study of good Let­ters as in former t [...]es, lo­ving better the Act [...]ve tha [...] the Contemplat [...]ve part of Knowledge, which in times of the Monasteries was more esteemed and doated on than now: when Kings and Princes were so devo­ted to the services of God, that they consecrated their Sonnes, Nephews, and other Kinsmen to the Church; some of whom have become Cardinals, as Beaufort, and Poole, whose Mother was a Plan­tagenet; I also omit many Bishops and Clergy-men, [Page 18] who for the singular esti­mation of their sincerity, truth, and learning, have beene made by the Prince his Treasurers, Chancel­lors, Masters of the Rolles, and preferred to other the like honourable places of trust and credit. And why may we not expect a re-ad­vancement of Learning Ca­ [...]olinis [...]isce temp [...]ribus, wherein so many works of Piety have beene underta­ken, and the worthiest ad­vanced?

Lewes the eleventh King of France, would say that his sonne should learne no more Latine, than Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare: [Page 19] Of which opinion are ma­ny of our times, which is the reason, that after Tra­vaile they come home as wise as they went, and hold their tongues, where wise, and learned men are in discourse; and are left like wrecks in the open Sea of the World, without man, Mast, or Rudder to direct them in a right and orderly course. Now where Know­ledge is undervalued, what reward can a Master ex­pect? Teaching being one of the most laborious cal­lings in the World, and the Schoole well termed Pistri­num Paedagogicum. Hence the most Masters making [Page 20] Teaching a shift but for a time, till a be [...]ter fortune fallet [...], and to say truth, In Grammatica senescere mi­serri [...]um. A Master of a Free Schoole is more ab­solute; to teach in private houses, is subject to many inconve [...]iences; the Ma­ster becommet [...] more ser­vile than their servants, who observe him to an inch, (and as commonly they are pick-thanks) and lay all the blame of their young masters unlucky be­haviour upon his Master: if hee falls in climbing a Dawes nest, his Master is in fault; if hee bee asked a question at the Table by a [Page 21] stranger, and is dumbe, his Mother swells, and tells his Master, hee loseth his time, and doth no good, though hee taketh all the paines with him that pos­sibly hee can.

But imagine there is a good correspondency held on all sides; hee pleaseth the Parents as wel in paines taking, as using the children mildly and gently, they a­gaine love their Master: let him expect no future preferment, but onely (for the present) his bare sti­pend: But some may tell him, his Master hath ma­ [...]y Benefices in his gift; but beleeve me, not any that [Page 22] ever he shall be better: but why not, since he will be­stow them gratis? yes, in the Adjective, (but not in the Adverbe) to them that will give most; sometimes if hee happens to marry a Chamber-mayd of the house, he may fare the bet­ter; neither much, Compu­tatis computandis, for his wife (for charge) may stand him in as much as a small living may be worth; or if hee bee a neighbours childe, and his father, or some friend for him will lay downe a matter of se­ven or eight score pounds to a second or third man. For Simoniacall Patrones [Page 23] are like pick-pockets in a throng, they will not have the purse and money found about them; they present­ly turne it off to another of their consorts not farre off, who, to avoyd the danger of the Law, hath taken in lease his Advouzons; so hereby both the King, Bi­shop of the Diocesse, or the Vniver [...]ities are cheated of their right in the next pre­sentation. But perhaps his Schollers, when they come to be men, and of them­selves, will not be forget­full of him: let me tell him, hee mu [...]t get him a paire of leaden shooes, if he meanes to attend upon so long and [Page 24] [...]edious hopes, and withall remember that old mon­kish Verse, wherein the Reason is much better than the Rime:

Indeed in the Unive [...]si­ties many young Noble­men, and ingenuous learned Gentlemen have beene ve­ry gratefull afterward to their Tutors and Teachers, and have prooved the one­ly raisers of their fortunes; neither is heere any long expectation, they being of [Page 25] yeeres of judgement to dis­cerne a benefit, which com­monly they requite ere it be out-worne & forgotten. So that I conclude, it is most fitting that good Schoolemasters should bee as well in publick Citties & Townes, as private Gentle­mens houses; but more fit­ting they should bee better dealt withal then common­ly they are in most places: besides, it were greatly to be wished, that those who tooke that profession upon them, and found themselves able to endure it, should fol­low none other calling so long as they lived, and (as in other Countries) to [Page 26] be maintained by the pub­like with large and suffici­ent stipends; so themselves would not bee unprovided in their age, and their schol­lers not bee turned over to seeke every yeere new masters; than which no­thing can hurt or more hin­der proficiency in Lear­ning. For my part, I have done with that profession, having evermore found the world unthankfull, how in­dustrious soever I have beene.

Of making and publishing Bookes.

SAlomon saith, There is no end of [...]aking Bookes; and [Page 27] Books many times are made to no end, since according to that, Nihil dictum quod non priùs: For writers now adaies (like Cookes) dresse but the same meate after another manner, which in substance is but one and the same. All the Libraries of the world have beene ran­sack'd and toss'd over and over, and whatsoever hath borne the stampe of Anti­quity, now vindicated from dust and moaths, and brought to see the light of the Hebrew, Arabick, Greek, and Latine; having broken through the mid-night and mi [...]ts of many barbarous Ages, have now regained [Page 28] their proper lustre and pu­rity.

Neither are the bare ma­king of bookes now adayes sufficient, but new Authors are made and brought to speake and determine con­troversies, not onely in Di­vinity, but in other Scien­ces; and like painted wood­den Cannons (against the walls of a weak towne) doe terrifie for a while, but the stratagem is quickly disco­vered: and many ancient Authours that are made to speake more than they would if they were living, if Manutius hath spoken the truth; but this by the way: I would know whether out [Page 29] of a superlative singularity, or like the Griffons in Bac­tria) they envy the world should partake, and bee sha­rers of that gold which they have digged for. Ma­ny famous and great Schol­lers love not to bee seene in Print, (except a necessity by command of superiors) be layd upon them) being as they suppose, able to doe as much with their tongues, there being already such a masse of bookes in the world, (which hath swal­lowed more than it can di­gest) it were a folly to bur­den it with more; especi­ally there being not the third Reader to the for­tieth [Page 30] booke, and the bet­ter part of these vaine, use­lesse, yea, sometimes im­pious; of what sort are those of Casa, Bishop of Be­neventum, Aretine, Ma­chiavel, and many other; so that among the learned and wise it is a great questi­on, whether Printing hath done more hurt or good in the World. Certaine it is, wee have knowledge now almost at the height, ac­cording to the Prophet Da­niel, Daniel 12 of these last times: Sci­entia multiplicabitur; but practice of Piety, Charity, and Devotion at the low­est, as St. Paul foretold of the same times.

[Page 31]But say, thou being a ge­nerall Scholler, a Travel­ler, an excellent Artist in one kind or other, and de­sirest (not out of a vaine glory Digito monstrarier hic [...]st) but of a good minde of profitting, and doing good to others, to make the World partaker of thy Knowledge if thou bee'st a Scholler; or thy Observa­tions, being a Trav [...]ller; or thy Experience or Inventi­on, being an Artist; having spent many yeeres, much money, and a great part of thy life, hoping by thy la­bours and honest deserving to get a respect in the world, or by thy Dedica­tion [Page 32] the favour and support of some great personage for thy preferment, or a good round summe of a Stationer for thy Coppy, and it must be a choice and rare one too; (which hee for his owne gaine wil look [...]o) it will hardly by a tenth part countervaile thy labour and charge. For the respec [...] of the world is no­thing; nay, thou sh [...]lt finde it altogether ingrate, and thy Reader readier to re­quite thee with a jeere, or a [...]corne, than a good word to give thee thy due; and perhaps out of envy, be­cause thou knowest more and art learneder than [Page 33] hee: and though thou hast a generall applause, thou shalt bee but a nine daies wonder.

But then you may say, the Dedication will bee worth a great matter, ei­ther in present reward of money, or preferment by your Patrones Letter, or other meanes. And for this purpose you prefixe a learned and as Panegyri­call Epistle as you can, and bestow great cost of the binding of your booke, gilding and st [...]inging of it in the best and finest man [...]er: Let me tell thee, whosoever thou art, if [Page 34] now adaies (such are these times) thou gettest but as much as will pay for the bin [...]ing and st [...]ings, thou ar [...] w [...]l [...] enough, the rest th [...]u sh [...]ll have in promises of gre [...] [...]atters; perhaps yo [...] sh [...]ll be w [...]lled to come ano [...]her time, but one oc­casion or other will so fall out, that come never so often, you loose but your labour, your great Patrone is not stirring, he is abroad at Dinner, he is busie with such a Lord; to bee short, you and your labour are forgotten: some of his Pa­ges in the meane time ha­ving made himselfe of your Booke.

[Page 35]See now learned Au­thors, and you Moderne Poets, what end your ela­boured lines tend unto, and what you gaine by your neate and eloquent E­pi [...]tles, wherewith many times you gild sencelesse Statues, that will teach you (as they did Diogenes) pa­tience when they are sought and sued unto.

Aretine, I remember, gi­veth a Reason why Poets have not that esteeme, and fall short of the munifi­cence of Kings and Princes which formerly they did partake of. Poets (sayth he) now adayes are not re­warded for their Verses, [Page 36] because their Patrones in their conscience find them­selves not guilty of any de­sert or merit, why they should bee extolled by them. Againe, an ingenu­ous and a [...]ree spirit cannot Dor [...]r les oreilles d' Asne, as the French man sayes, doe honour to the undeser­ving; there are many that befoole themselves this way. Therefore let the booke you dedicate, sort with his judgement and un­derstanding to whom it is presented, as neare as may be, you having formerly knowne him. I had rather present any worke of mine to a private Patron, with [Page 37] whom I might conferre of the subject, heare his judg­ment, and speak mine free­ly: besides, books are ever­more best taken of such, and you bee esteemed lesse am­bitious. There be some so highly upborn by the blad­ders of their honour and greatnesse, that they re­ceive your gi [...]t but as an ho­mage or a tribute due to their transcendency.

Leaving those farther off, let us looke a little backe to the Authors and Poets of late [...] time, and consider how they have thrived by their workes and Dedicati­ons. The famous Spen­ [...]er did never get any pre­ferment [Page 38] in his life, save to­ward his latter end hee be­came a Clerk of the Coun­cell in Ireland; and dying in England, hee dyed but poore. When he lay sick, the Noble, and patterne of true Honour, Robert, Earle of Essex, sent him twenty pound, either to relieve or bury him. Iosuah Silvester admired for his Translation of Bartas, dyed at Middle­borough, a Factor for our English Merchants, having had very little or no reward at all, either for his paines or Dedication: And honest M^r. Michael Drayton had a­bout some five pound lying by him at his death, which [Page 39] was Satis viatici ad coelum, as William Warham, Bishop of Canterbury, answered his Steward, (when lying up­on his death-bed, he had as­ked him how much money hee had in the house, hee told his Grace Thirty pounds.) I have (I confesse) published things of mine owne heretofore, but I never gained one halfe-penny by any Dedication that ever I made, save splen­dida promissa, (and as Plu­tarch saith) Byssina verba: Neither cared I much; for what I did, was to please my selfe onely. So that I would wish no friend of mine in these daies to make [Page 40] further use of English Poe­sie than in Epitaphs, Em­blemes, or Encomiasticks for Friends: Yet i [...] his veine bee for Latine, not to restraine himselfe here­in; for hereby he shall doe honour to our Nation, and become a man, though not of Mars, yet of Martes, getting himselfe heereby the name and reputation of a Scholler. As all other Ex­cellency, so Latine Poësie is valued at an higher rate a­broad, than with us in Eng­land, (albeit our wits are nothing inferior to theirs) and more bountifully in all places rewarded.

I confesse I have spent too many good houres in this folly and fruitlesse exer­cise, having beene ever naturally addicted to those Arts and Sciences which consist of proportion and number, as Painting, Mu­sicke, and Poetry, and the Mathematical Sciences: but now having shaken hands with those vanities, (being exercised in a­nother Calling) I bid [Page 42] them (though unwilling­ly, and as friends doe at par­ting with some reluctancy) Adie [...], and am with Horace his old Sencer forced to say,

Of Liberty.

THere is nothing so sweete and agreeable to the nature of Man, next unto his health, as his liber­ty, which, according to Tullies definition hereof, is an Arbitrium vivendiut ve­lis, The choice of living as [Page 43] a man list himselfe. Where­fore Paracelsus (that glory of Germany, for his depth of knowledge in the nature of Minerals) to shew his true happinesse herein, when hee travelled by the way, and came to his Inne at night, the first thing hee did, he would lay his sword upon the Table, profes­sing hee would not give the same to bee Emperour of Germany: it was a long broad sword, and had en­graven upon the blade this:

As being the Embleme of [Page 44] his Libe [...]ty: In the pom­mell (which was hollow, and to bee opened with a skrew) were all his chiefe Quintessencies, and spiri [...]s of Metalls and Hearbs, wherewith hee cured the most desperate Diseases, gaining hereby infinite trea­sure and summes of money.

And the old Burgundians possessing that part of Ger­many which belongeth at this time to the Lantgrave of Hessen, to expresse their hatred to bondage, and their love of Liberty, gave in their warlicke Ensigne a Cat, because no creature in the world is more im­patient of bondage than it; [Page 45] for put her into a cage or grate, shee never will bee quiet, but rather beate her selfe to death there, than want her liberty. Hence that Prince is called Prin­ceps Catorum, and in the Germane, Die Lantgraffe von Hessen: Hesse as well in the high as low Dutch sig­nifying a Cat; for as wee call heere Pusse, so they there Hesse: yet in Gelder­land they call her Pous as we doe.

Servitude was as a curse pronounced to them who had offended God, and trans­gressed his Law; as Noah cursed Canaan, saying, [Page 46] A servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren: Gen. 9. 25 and we find indeed bondage to be but an effect of vice, as in unthrifty idle persons, and offenders of the Law; with­all intemperate persons, who by their ill living fall into many long and loath­some diseases, are as it were in bonds bound to their beds, and impriso­ned within their chambers, and set in the stocks by the Gout.

There is also the want of halfe a mans Liberty in Marriage; for he is not ab­ [...]olutely himselfe, though many beleeve, when they are going to Church upon [Page 47] their Wedding-day, they are going into the Land of Liberty: But Salomon tel­leth them, The foole laugh­eth when he is going to the stocks. For my part, I am not married; if I were, I should finde my wings clipt, and the collar too streight for my neck.

The Low countries having tasted the sweetnesse of their liberty, when they had shaken off the yoake of Spaine, gave for their Em­bleme a Lyon, who having slipt his collar, look't be­hind him to the [...]ame, with this Liber Le [...] revinciri [...]e­scit: An absolute man ca [...] ­not be he who wanteth his liberty.

[Page 48]Who enjoy their liberty, commonly are longer lived than others who want it; they are more able in wit and judgement, they are more usefull to the Com­mon-wealth, when the rest are but Vmbratiles, but shadows of men; they have done the best workes either of wit, or expence; they are the fastest & truest friends: lastly, they have beene the fairest presidents of Piety and Goodnesse.

But you tell me, every man cannot enjoy that con­dition, but some (yea, the most) must serve, and o­bey: It is true; I onely speake of the ingenuous, [Page 49] and those as may, if it please them, be fabri fati sui, shape out their owne fortune, yet rather choose a servile con­dition, before Liberty and Freedome: as if a Master of Arts should turne Gentle­man Vsher to an ordinary Lady; or a Lieutenant in the warres leave his honou­rable profession to become a Lords Porter; or like a foolish Vicar in Lincolnshire who would suffer his wife to raise him in cold winter mornings to make her a fire. Some againe are by nature so base and obsequious, that being overcome with the presence of those who were greater or braver then [Page 50] themselves, they sooth him up, and foolishly applaud and admire whatsoever hee sayes; and if hee speakes in his owne opinion any thing wisely, or like a Statist, and looketh about him for ap­plause, they reply, Your H [...]nor or Worship is in the [...]ight, the best Counsellor the King hath, could not have spoken to better pur­pose, God maintaine your life, if some would be rul'd by you it would bee better for all England; wi [...]h the like grosse and palpable flat­tery. And if happely he ut­ter a [...]y thing savouring of a j [...]st, they feigne a Sardonian [...]mile by way of allowance [Page 51] of his facetious conceipt. And indeed many there are so stately, & affecting great­nesse after so foolish a man­ner, that they become ridi­cul [...]us, in suffering men oft­times as good as themselves to stand bare before them three or foure houres toge­ther, and therefore many times they hold them in talk for the purpose, in expecting the title of Honor or Wor­ship at every word that is spoken, as if they were the Constables of the next Wapentake. Somtime they will bee bold to commaund you as their menial servant, which also you must take as a favour. In briefe, I will [Page 52] ever commend that gentile freedome of the French na­tion, who affect servility least of all other, especially that of standing bare, yea even in waiting at the ta [...]le, were it before the greate [...]t Lord in France, (they usu­ally bringing up the dishes with their hats on their heads) as also in freedome of speech, whereof none save sl [...]ves are debarred. For mine owne part I affect freedome so much, and I have found such happinesse therein, that I had rather dine even at a three peny Ordinary, where I may be free and merry, then to bee a dumbe tenant for two [Page 53] houres at a Lords table, pre­ferring health and liberty, bonc corporis, before those of Fortune, and all the wealth the greatest Vsurer hath in the wo [...]ld, and will ever say,

Of Opinion.

OPinion is a Mon [...]ter of more heads then Her­cules his Hydra; and if one happely be cut off, another ariseth forthwith in the roome. One day when I walking in Breda in Brabant not farre from the Market [Page 54] place, I passed by a Gentle­man or Merchants house, o­ver whose great ga [...]es was written in letters of gold upon a blew ground, Totus mundus regitur opinione. I stood still, and pondering upon it, I found wi [...]ty and weighty, to concerne the whole world, and every one in particular, and my selfe especially at that time, since I thought it to bee the best that I had seene, which per­haps another would have disliked.

And I have often wonde­red why the ancient Pagans in their deifying so many, passed by Opinion, bearing a f [...]r greater sway then dogs, [Page 55] onions and leeks in AEgypt, Cui nomen crescebat in hor­tis. Yet it is no great wonder, since deifying was wont to bee done with a ge­nerall consent, Opinion was never to expect it, every man where she reignes be­ing of a severall minde. It was but Opinion that cau­sed Count Martinengo of Italy, of a noble house, and of an exceeding great estate to marrie a common Laun­dresse, whereupon within two or three dayes follow­ing, Pasquin i [...] Rome had a foule shirt put upon his back and underneath this in Ita­lian,

[Page 56] Pasquin how haps it thou hast a foule shirt on upon a Sunday morning?

Risposto.

Because my Launderesse is made a Countesse.

It is but Opinion that makes all the marriages in the world; for there is no beauty, favour, or comple­xion, but is loved and liked of by one or other, Nature so providing, that none might be lost for having.

It is but Opinion that great Ladies many times marry their grooms, refusing great men, and of great meanes.

It is but Opinion that one goes to Rome, another to New England, and a third to [Page 57] Amsterdam. It is also but Opinion that a proud cox [...]combe in the fashion, wea­ring Taffata, and an ill favo­red locke on his shoulder, thinkes all that weare cloth, and are out of fashion, to be clownes, base, and unwor­thie his acquaintance.

So that Opinion is the Compasse the foole onely saileth by in the vast Ocean of Ignorance: for hereby vices are taken for virtues, and so the contrary; and all the errors that men commit in their whole lives, is for want of the line and levell of an eaven and true judge­ment, and it is the very rock whereat many, yea the most [Page 58] make shipwracke of their credits, estates, and lives.

That Embleme was a pretty one, which was an old woman who having ga­thered up into her apron many dead mens skuls, which shee found scattered upon the ground, with an intent to lay them up in a charnell house, but her a­pron slipping upon a hill where she stood, some ran one way, and some another; which the old woman see­ing, Nay (quoth shee) goe your waies, for thus ye dif­fered in your opinion when ye had life, every one taking his severall way as he fanci­ed. There is no Writer, [Page 59] none of publique or private employment in the com­mon wealth, but passeth in danger by the denne of this one-eyed Polyphemus. And while I write, by how many opinions am I censured? one saying one thing, and ano­ther another, but I am not so unhappy as to feare or care for them; I hold on a direct course, and will never strike saile to Rovers.

Of following the Fashion.

ECclesiasticus saith, that by gate, laughter, and appa­rell, a man is knowne what he [Page 60] is. Truly nothing more dis­covereth the gravity or le­vity of the minde then ap­parell. I never knew a solid or wise man to affect this po­pular vanity; which cau [...]ed Henry the 4. of France to say usually of his Counsel­lors, and learneder sort of his Courtiers, that they had so much within them, that they never cared to beg re­gard from feathers and gold lace: and himselfe would commonly goe as plaine as an ordinary Gentleman or Citizen, onely in blacke, sometime in a suit no better then buckram. The Empe­rour Charles the 5. seldome or never ware any gold or [Page 61] silver about him, save his Order of the Fleece. And the plainnesse of our English Kings in former times hath beene very remarkable. King Henry the 8. was the first that ever ware a band about his neck, and that ve­ry plaine, without lace, and about an inch or two in depth. Wee may see how the case is altered, hee is not a Gentleman, nor in the fa­shion, whose [...]and of Italian cut-work now standeth him not at the least in three or foure pounds. Yea a Sem­ster in Holborne told mee that there are of threescore pound price a piece; and shoo-tyes, that goe under [Page 62] the name of Roses, from thirty shillings to three, foure, and five pounds the paire. Yea a Gallant of the time not long since, payd thirty pound for a paire. I would have had him by him selfe to have eaten that [...]ish of buttered Egges prepared with Muske and Amber­greece, which cost thirty and five pounds, and when his belly had beene full, to have laid him to sleep upon my Lady N. bed, whose furniture cost her Ladiship five hundred and threescore pounds.

I never knew any wholly affected to follow fashions, to have beene any way use­full [Page 63] or profitable to the common wealth, except that way Aristotle affirm­eth the prodigall man to be, by scattering his money a­bout to the benefit of many, Tailors, Semsters, Silkmen, &c. Neither ever knew I any man esteemed the bet­ter or the wiser for his bra­verie, but among [...]imple people. Now this thing we call the Fashion, so much hunted and pursued after (like a thiefe with an Hue and Cry) that our [...]aylors dog it into France even to the very doore. It reignes commonly like an Epide­micall disease, first infecting the Court, then the City, [Page 64] after the Country; from the Countesse to the Chambriere, who rather than shee will want her curled lockes, will turne them up with a hot paire of tongs, in stead of the irons. The Fashion (like an highe [...] Orbe) hath the revo­lution commonly every hundred yeare, when the same comes into request a­gaine; which I saw once in Antwerpe handsomly de­scribed by an hee and shee foole, turning a wheele a­bout, with hats, hose, and doublets in the fashion, fast­ned round about it, which when they were below, be­gan to mount up againe, as we see them. For example, [Page 65] in the time of King Henry the 7. the slashed double [...]s now used were in request, only the coats of the Kings Guard keepe the same form they did, since they were first given them by the said King, who was the first king of England that had a guard about his person, and that by the advice of Sir William Stanley, who was shortly af­ter beheaded for treason, albeit he set the Crowne (found throwne in a haw­thorne bush) upon the kings head in the field. After that the Flemish fashion in the time of King Henry the 8. came in request, of strait doublets, huge breches let [Page 66] out with puffes, and cod pie­ces. In Queene Maries time the Spanish was much in use. In Queene Elizabeths time were the great bellied dou­blets, wide sawcy sleeves, that would be in every dish before their master, and buttons as big as Tablemen, or the lesser sort of Sand­wich Turnips; with huge r [...]ffes that [...]tood like Cart wheeles about their neckes, and round breeches not much unlike Saint Omers onions, whereto the long stocking without garters was joyned, which then was the Earle of Leicesters fa­shion, and theirs who had the handsomest legge. The [Page 67] women wore strait bodyed gowns, with narrow sleeves [...]rawne out wi [...]h Lawne or fine C [...]mbricke in puffe, with high bolstered wings, little ruffes edged with gold or blacke [...]ilke; and maides wore cawles of gold, now quite out of use. Chaines of gold were then of Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen commonly worne, but a chaine of Gold now (to so high a rate Gold is raised) is as much as some of them are worth.

The like variety hath been in Hats, which have beene but of late yeares. Henry the 4. is commonly pour­trayed with a hood on his [Page 68] head, such as the Liveries of the City weare on their shoulders. Henry the 6. the 7. and 8. wore onely Caps. King Philip in England wore commonly a somwhat high velvet Cap, with a white feather. After came in hats of a [...]l fashions, some with crowns so high, that behol­ding them farre off, you would have thought you had discovered the Tena­riffe, those close to the head like Barbers basons, with narrow brimmes, wee were at that time beholden to Ca­diz in Spaine for. After them came up those with square crownes, and brimmes al­most as broad as a Brewers [Page 69] mash-fat, or a reasonable upper stone of a Mustard querne, which among my other Epigrammes gave me occasion of this:

No lesse variety hath bin in hat-bands, the Cipresse being now quite out of use, save among some few of the graver sort.

Wherefore the Spaniard [Page 70] and Dutch are much to bee commended, who for some hundreds of yeares never altered their f [...]shion, but have kept alwayes one and the same.

The Switzers ever since that fatall and finall over­throw which they gave to the Duke of Burgundy at Nancy in Lorrain, have worn their party coloured dou­blets, breeches, and cod pie­ces, drawne out with huge puffes of Taffata, or Linen, and their [...]tockings (like the knaves of our Cards) party coloured, of red and yellow or other colours. I remem­ber at the taking in of the towne of R [...]es in Cleveland, [Page 71] betweene Wesel & Embrick upon the river of Rhine, (I being there at the same time) when a part of the Swisse quarter, being before the towne, was by accident burned, I demanded of a Swisse Captaine the reason of their so much affecting colors above other nations: he told me the occasion was honourable, which was this: At what time the Duke of Burgundy received his over­throw, and the Swisses reco­vering their liberty, he en­tred the field in all the state and pompe hee could pos­sible devise, hee brought with him all his Plate and Iewels, all his Tents were [Page 72] of silke, of severall colours, which the battaile being en­ded, being torne all to pie­ces by the Swisse souldiers, of a part of one colour they made them doublets, of the rest of other colours bree­ches [...] stockings, and caps, returning home in that ha­bit; so ever since in remem­brance of that famous victo­ry by them atchieved, and their liberty recovered, even to this day they goe still in their party-colours. Let mee not forget to tell you the occasion of this mortall warre; it was onely as Guicciardine tels us, but for the toll of a loade of calves skins comming over [Page 73] a bridge, which toll the Duke claimed as his right, and the Swisses theirs. But this by the way.

I have much wondered why our English above o­ther nations should so much doat upon new fashions, but more I wonder at our want of wit, that wee cannot in­vent them our selves, but when one is growne sta [...]e runne presently over into France, to seeke a new, ma­king that noble and flouri­shing Kingdome the maga­zin of our fooleries: and for this purpose many of our Tailors lye leger there, and Ladies post over their gen­tlemen Vshers, to accoutre [Page 74] them and themselves as you see. Hence came your sla­shed doublets (as if the wea­rers were cut out to be car­bonado'd upon the coales) and your halfe shirts, picka­dillies (now out of request) your long breeches, narrow towards the knees, like a payre of Smiths bellowes; the spangled Garters pen­dant to the shooe, your per­fumed perrukes or periwigs, to shew us that lost hai [...]e may bee had againe for mo­ney; with a thousand such fooleries, unknowne to our manly forefathers.

It was a saying of that no­ble Romane Cato, Cui cor­poris summa cura, ei virtutis [Page 75] maxima incuria; and most true it is, since on the con­trary we daily finde by ex­perience, our greatest Scho­lers and Statists to offend on the contrary part, being car [...]sse, and sometime slo­venly in their apparell, that many times (their thoughts being taken up with studi­ous and profound meditati­ons) they forget to button or to trusse themselves, they love their old clothes better than new, they care not for curious setting their ruffe, wearing cuffes, &c.

Erasmus in Epistolis I re­member reporteth of Sir Thomas Moore, that à puer [...] in vestitu semper fuit negli­gentissimus; [Page 76] and I beleeve it to bee most true that God hath said by the mouth of his Prophet, That he will vi­sit, or send his plague among such as are clothed with strange apparell.

Of Friendship and Ac­quaintance.

I Have ever found the most solid and durable friend­ship to have beene among equalls, equalls in age, man­ners, estates, and professi­ons, that with in [...]eriours is subject to many inconveni­ences, as lavish & needlesse expending, lending, impor­tunity [Page 77] of entreaty, and som­times discredit. On the con­trary, that with superiours (which I cannot properly call friendship) but raiseth or depresseth a man in valu­ation high or low, as they please themselves; and this friendship is but a kinde of subjection or slavery. As he is your friend, a great man inviteth you to dinner to his table, the sweetnesse of that favour and kindnes is made distastfull by the awe of his greatnesse, in his presence not to be covered, to [...]it downe, and to be placed where and under whom he pleaseth, to be tongue-tyed all the while, though you [Page 78] bee able to speake more to the purpose than himselfe and all his company; while you whisper in a waiters ear for any thing that you want, you must endure to bee car­v [...]d unto, many times of the first, worst, or rawest of the meat; sometime you have a piece preferred unto you from his owne trencher, but then imagine his belly is ful, or he cannot for some other reason ea [...]e it himselfe; so that for true and free con­tent you were better seeke your dinner with some ho­nest companion in Pie-cor­ner. Beside, they love you should have a kinde of de­pendency of them, that they [Page 79] might make use of you at their pleasure, if you be well qualified, [...]ewarding you with promises & overtures of great matters of future hope, in the meane time you must live onely by counte­nance, & shift for your selfe. In a word, to trust to this su­perlative Friendship [...] is but as an earthen pot, to joyne your selfe to one of bras [...]e, who under a colour of assi­sting you in the streame, wil cracke your sides one way or other. And it is one thing to bee necessitous and stand in need of great ones friend­ship, and another out of your election to apply your selfe to such wherof I only speak.

[Page 80]So that the first point of discretion in the choice of a friend, is to know whether he be reall or superficiall, whether hee aymeth at his own ends, or tendereth and is willing to advance your good. Indeed Poverty and Necessity (according to Saint Hierome) be touch [...]tones for the triall of reall Friendship. Ob hoc unicum (saith he) a­manda est paupertas, ut a qui­bus ameris intelligas. Yet ac­cording to Seneca, not the truest and the best, Amor virtutis est morum similitudo: the love of Virtue, and like­nesse of Manners, begetteth amongst men the most solid and durable Friendship.

[Page 81]Sometimes there is a sym­pathy in Nature, whereby one mā affecteth the friend­ship and acquaintance of ano­ther, whom before he never saw in his life, yea & it may be whom hee never saw at all: as a Dutchesse of Bur­gundy fell in love with a Nobleman whom she only heard two strangers com­mend for his person and rare qualities, walking on the o­ther side of a River, neere to her Court.

The common and ordina­ry friendship of the world is measured by the benefit that one man reaps by ano­ther, according to Ovid.

And this Friendship for the most part lives and ex­pires with mens lives and their Fortunes, and indeed merits not the name of friendship. I confesse my selfe to have found more friendship at a strāgers hand whom I never in my life saw before, yea, and in for­raine parts beyond the seas, [Page 83] then among the most of my neerest kindred and old ac­quaintance here in England, who have profes [...]ed much towards mee in empty pro­mises.

The ordinary friendship of our times is but meere ac­quaintance, whose utmost bound and extent is, in the Country entertainment for you and your horse a night or two; in the City, an old acquaintance meets you, and with admiration, Good Lord (saith he) are you alive yet! when he sees him, and speakes to him; then at the next Taverne gives you a pinte or a quart of wine: at the Court, you are shewne [Page 84] the King or the Queene at dinner. So that if among one hundred of your ac­quaintance, yea five hun­dred, you meet with two or three faithfull friends, think your selfe happy, such is the world in our cunning age.

You may also bee much deceived by overweening, taking those for friends which indeed are not; such friendshippe you ordinarily meet with over a cuppe of wine in a Taverne, where they will call you brother, and promise you all kindnes by giving you their hands, and the next morning (when the grosser parts of the wine are turned to melancholike [Page 85] dregs) as is usuall with the Dutchmen, they looke on you like Lyons, and never were the men.

The vowes of such vanish into aire, to the often losse of your labour in visiting, soliciting, and attending them at their houses or chambers. Sometimes you shall be so injuriously dealt withall, as by beleeving their promises, you shall in hope take tedious journeies, to London, the Court, and other places, and when you have done all, you shall on­ly finde your horse tyred, your pur [...]e emptied, and your selfe in your expecta­tion meerely abused. So I [Page 86] wish thee whosoever thou art, to have as little to doe with these transcendent great ones on the one side, as the uselesse inferiours and va [...]ltneants on the other.

I have often considered with my sel [...]e, whether a man were the better or the worse for multitude of ac­quaintance; I co [...]cluded ge­nerally the worse, consider­ing the most are of no use u [...]to us, casting into the ac­count the expence of mo­ney, losse of time, and neg­lect of businesse.

The best acquaintance is with such as you may better your self by, any way, espe­cially in knowledge by dis­course [Page 87] and conference, (which was the ancient course of learning, accor­ding to Euripides, [...], Converse was the mo­ther of Arts) either with ge­neral Schollers, Travellers, such as are skilled in the tongues, and in mechanicall Arts, for by conversing with such you shall husband your time to the best, and take the shortest cut to knowledge [...] beside, the kee­ping of such company get­teth you the reputation of being understanding and learned as they are, though yet a puis [...]e and a novice in their studies and professi­ons.

[Page 88]The best way to pre [...]erve a gotten f [...]iend, is thankfully to acknowledge the benefit you have received from him.

To endeavour all you can to requi [...]e his curte [...]ie some way or other.

To use him tenderly, and not oft, and then but in cases of necessity, when (as a good sword) you shall see what mettall he is made of.

To give him no occasion by your ill cariage or un­thriftinesse to thinke ill of you.

To goe on in an honest way and calling, that hee may thinke his courtesies well bestowed, and bee the [Page 89] readier to assis [...] and further you; for commonly friends accumulate one good turne upon another, especially where they have found the former to have beene seaso­nably and profitably be­stowed.

Of Parents and Children.

ALL Parents are natural­ly indulgent to their chil­dren, especially while they are young; yet the height of their affection, or coldnesse of love towards them, appeareth not untill they are of riper yeares, at what time they doe them [Page 90] equall wrong either in giving them the reine of liberty and spending, or being over harsh, unnaturall, and hard hearted over them. I have knowne excellent spirits, and many noble wits lost and undone ei­ther way.

Some Mothers when their children are young are so fond over them, [...]s by no meanes they will endure them out of their sight, much lesse send them abroad to schoole, or to be nurtured by others abroad, by whom they profit more then at home. Hence it comes to passe that so many great and rich mens sonnes and heyres, when they come toward men [...] estate, are so simple and easie [Page 91] to bee wrought upon by craftie knaves and cheaters. Hence we see them often brought up­on the Stage under the names of Sir Simple, Iohn Daw, Abraham Ninny, and the like, their st [...]dy being nothing else but the newest fashion, what Tavern to goe to dinner to, or stare at every post to see where the newest play is that aftern [...]one.

I knew a great Lady that had onely one sonne of some fourteene or fifteene yeare [...] of age, whom indeed shee would have brought up at schoole, but he must go when himselfe listed, and have two men to carry him thither, & to bring him home again to dinner & [Page 92] supper; hee was once in my charge, and I remember not a bit of meat would downe with him without sawce, which must be extraordinary too, as the juice of limmons with su­gar and rose water. Sometime if it were a dainty fowle, as Patric [...], Gray Plover, or the like, he must have wine mix­ed with bread crummes, and the juice of an Orenge; Pepper he could not abide, for it bit him by the tongue: his break­fast was either a ca [...]dle, or a manchet sp [...]ead with Almond butter. Being one day with his mother at dinner, she se [...]med to bee overjoyed, in that her sonne fell to eating of beefe, which she protested hee never [Page 93] did before in his life, and now she verily beleeved hee would prove a souldier; indeed hee proved very valiant after, for he kick [...] his mother, and told her hee was better descended then ever shee was, so that it seemes strong meats have strange effects. In earnest thi [...] young gentleman was the only one whō I ever knew to prove towardly and good, after such a motherly education. Indeed as I said hee was sometimes my scholler, and at this day is as understanding, civill, dis­creet, and as thrifty a Gentle­man, as is in the west part of England.

Some agaíne in the Vniver­sities maintaine their sonnes [Page 94] at such an height, that there in stead of studying the seven liberall Sciences, they study seven couple of hounds: yet I must needs say, they there grow perfect in the Spanish, French, and the Dutch, that is, Sacke, Claret, and Rhe­nish, while poore Schollers make their Exercises; and some of these now & then (un­knowne to their friends) clap up a match with some semster, chambermaid, or tradesmans daughter: that newes is cari­ed to their fathers, how their sonnes have profi [...]ed so well in the Vniversity, that they have gotten more in an houre, than they know what to doe withall all their lives after.

[Page 95] He [...]ce being men, they be­come unserviceable both for the Church and State, and be­ing no Schollers, they hate learning in others: whereup­on when in learned company they can say little, they break jests upon others; or which is the more generous and com­mendable, if it be at a Tavern and upon a spending occasion, they will numerando Sym­bolum officium sarcire, as Erasmus saith, make amends by paying a good part of the reckoning, and being no schol­lers, shew their loves to schol­lers.

On the other side, there are some Fathers so unnaturall and harsh towards their chil­dren, [Page 96] that they are not onely carelesse in giving them any education at all, but no means of maintenāce to support their livelihood, turning them off young to shift in the wide world, seeke their fortunes a­mong strangers, and become servants to others: or if they stay at home, use them in that manner by blowes and beating or ill & uncomfortable words, with [...]rawing timely helpe for their preferments, that all their lives after they loath their fathers house, and the very sight of the place where they were bred and borne.

I knew a very rich and able man in Norfolke, that while he lived would allow his chil ­dren [Page 97] no meanes at all to live upon, (they being at mans estate, and very ci­vill and honest Gentle­men) save the wind [...]falls of trees in his woods, and to make their best by selling them, but no windes stir­ring, they were faine to helpe themselves by dig­ging the rootes loose with­in the earth, then covering them againe with turfes, that the least winde in a manner would lay them a­long: and these shifts do [...] mercilesse fathers put their children unto, who though by nature towardly, inge­nious, and no way vitious­ly given, are oftentimes [Page 98] through poverty and want wrested from the bent and that naturall and inbred ho­nesty of minde, to doe things base and u [...]besee­ming: whereupon Mantu­a [...] wisely complaineth of poverty, s [...]ying, O mala paupe [...]tas vitij scelerisque m [...]nis [...]ra. I [...]ve knowne some, whom their fathers ha [...]ng s [...]nt to the Univer­s [...]es or the Innes of court, have le [...]t t [...]eir houses and cour [...]e o [...] studies for want of maintenance, making mo [...]y o [...] books, bedding, [...] as they had to [...] else where, hence [...]hey have [...]ot bee [...]e able to [...]epe company with [Page 99] the better sort, they are un­dervalued all their lives af­ter, whatsoever their good parts are, they are constrai­ned to walke on foote, take up their lodging in base Ale-houses, bee haile fel­low with every Tinker by every fire side: many times driven by necessity, they borrow of their kindred, or fathers tenants, lie at their houses: sometimes for debt or despaire they are faine to leave the Land, and seeke meanes in forraigne countries, either by turning Souldiers or Seminaries; sometimes not going so farre they take purses a­bout home, ending their [Page 100] miserable dayes at the gal­lowes, where they cry out against their Parents (Fa­thers especially) hardnesse, and carelesnesse of them, in neither giving them maintenance, or settling them in some course wher­in they might have lived and prooved honest men, and good members in the Common-wealth.

Neither must Parents have all the share in their Childrens undoing, since I know (though many are hard enough) they all would have their children to doe well, and the most are carefull enough to bring them up in all vertu­ous [Page 101] education: yet many times their children are re­fractory, and averse to all goodnesse out of an ill tem­perature of the minde by nature, and proove so noto­riously evill, that nothing can reduce them to civili­ty and honesty: Such a one was Troilo Savello of late yeares in Rome, descended of noble and honest Pa­rents, being their onely childe, and hope of their house, who by that time he was sixteene yeares of age; joyning himselfe to the Banditi, or out-lawd theevs and robbers, became the arrentest villaine one of them that ever Italy bred, [Page 102] and before those yeares his mother laid him up in prison, being glad to keepe him alive there; but hee breaking out, and falling to murthering, robbing, and acting all manner of mis­chiefe, was afterward be­headed. If I mistake not, there is the story of his life translated out of Itali­an into English by Sir Tobie Matthew. I have often seene and read it over in Dutch: but this by the way.

Sometimes among Chil­dren the Parents have two hopefull, and the third voyd of all grace: some­times all good, saving the eldest.

[Page 103]I remember when I was a School-boy in London, Tarlton acted a third sons part, such a one as I now speake of: His father being a very rich man, and lying upon his death-bed, called his three sonnes about him, who with teares, and on their knees craved his blessing, and to the eldest sonne, said hee, you are mine heire, and my land must descend upon you, aud I pray God blesse you with it: The eldest sonne replyed, Father I trust in God you shall yet live to enjoy it your selfe. To the second sonne, (said [...]e) you are a scholler, and what [Page 104] profession soever you take upon you, out of my land I allow you threescore pounds a yeare towards your maintenance, and three hundred pounds to buy you books, as his bro­ther, he weeping answer'd, I trust father you shall live to enjoy your money your selfe, I desire it not, &c. To the third, which was Tarl­ton, (who came like a rogue in a foule shirt without a a band, and in a blew coat with one [...]leeve, his stoc­kings out at the heeles, and his head full of straw and feathers) as for you sirrah, quoth he) you know how often I have fetched you [Page 105] out of Newgate and Bride­well, you have beene an un­gracious villaine, I have nothing to bequeath to you but the gallowes and a rope: Tarlton weeping and sobbing upon his knees (as his brothers) said, O Fa­ther, I doe not desire it, I trust i [...] God you shall live to enjoy it your selfe. There are many such sons of honest and carefull pa­rents in England at this day.

I have also knowne ma­ny children to have proo­ved and become honest and religious through the loathing of the parents vi­ces and lewdnesse of beha­viour; [Page 106] as if they have been addicted to drunkennesse, the childe would never a­bide it; or if to swearing, their sonne was free from that vice; yea many times children have prooved their parents best advisers, and reclaimers from their vices.

I never knew any childe thrive in the world that was rebellious against fa­ther or mother, by cu [...]sing them, abusing them, scor­ning them, as many doe that come to p [...]e [...]rment and high place, from a poore paren [...]age and a meane beginning, bu [...] the Iudgemen [...] o [...] God hath [Page 107] fallen heavy upo [...] them at one time or othe [...] Solomon saith, The Ravens shall pick out the eyes of such in the val­ley [...] meaning, they shall be hanged, & left fo [...] Ravens, and other foules to feede upon.

I have also knowne very Religious, and honest pa­rents withall, of very great ability, who have had but onely one sonne in the world, heire not onely to their owne inheritance, but also to brothers, & other of the kin, to whom they have given allowance according to his owne desire, as his horse to ride on whither it pleased him, money to [Page 108] spend among gentlemen, to stay at home, or goe whither and when hee li­sted: yet all this, and all the care they could take, could not keepe him at home, but like a vagabond to wander up and downe the country with common Rogues and Gipsies, till at the last he came to the gal­lowes: I have knowne two of this humour, being the sonnes o [...] v [...]ry rich and able men, my loving friends.

From sonnes I come to daughters, of whom I have knowne many pro­per young gentlewomen, daughters to rich and mi­serable [Page 109] clownes, who to save their money for por­tions, and servants wages, keepe them at home un­married, making drudges of them to doe all manner of worke about the house, till growing stale maides, they bestow themselves on their fathers horse-kee­pers, serving-men, many times on tailors that come to worke at their houses, & so are oftentimes undone for ever.

That among these ex­treames, we may come to a mediocrity. Let both the Parent and the Childe li­sten to, and remember the short (but pithy) advice of [Page 110] St. Paul in their recipro­call duty: Children obey your Parents: Parents provoke not your Children. I never knew a race to thrive and prosper, but where there was a firme and mutuall love of one toward the o­ther; in the childe a true fi­liall, and fearefull to of­fend: in the father that [...]ame [...] or naturall affe­ction, discending and ap­plying it selfe without bit­ternesse, to the dispositi­on of weake and childish age.

Likewise betweene bro­ther and sister, and this is preserved and cherished by a moderate and wise indul­gence [Page 111] of the Parents, as if ought bee amisse, by familiar admonition, tea­ching, gently reb [...]king, discoursing with them, as (with strangers) of yeares and understanding, and growing to men and wo­mens estate, to supply their wants, keeping them neat, and (with the best of their ranke) fashionable in ap­parrell, which addeth spi­rit unto them, maketh them to think wel of themselves, and teacheth them to make good choyse of their company & acquaintance; lastly, [...] maketh them in all places t [...] be respected, and their friends commended. [Page 112] It is also fitting, that a fa­ther, when [...]is [...]onne grow^s nere man, not onely to sup­ply his corporal necessi [...]ies, but also to allow him mo­ney in his purse to keepe company with his equals, and sometimes to lay out upon a good bargaine, which unexpectedly hee may meete withall, hereby he will learne to love and keepe his money, lay it out to the best advantage to keepe and maintaine his credit, he shall be knowne, and get reputation in the world, hee will become more obsequious to his Pa­rents and friends; when those pennilesse (and long [Page 113] of their Parents) poore ones, are a disgrace to their Parents, the object of pitty to their friends, and a scorn to every golden asse, and their enemies, and which is most lamentable, are some­times driven to bee behol­ding to these. There was a miserable slave not long since, that had kept three or fourescore load of Hay two or three years, hoping it would bee still dearer, when it was at five pounds and ten shillings the load, but presently it falling to forty and thirty shillings, went into his barne, takes a stoole to stand on, and throwing a rope over a [Page 114] beame, kicks downe the stoole, and so hangs: his sonne being threshing on the other side of the wall, hearing the stoole fall, runs in, and seeing his father hanging, takes his knife, and cuts him downe, rubs him, and recovers him: his son a weeke after comming for his weekes wages for threshing, (for his father allowed him nothing but what hee dearely earned) he abated him two pence, which the sonne told him was wanting; his father an­swered, the rope which he cut cost him so much, and hee should pay for it: the sonne departing hea­vily, [Page 115] told his father, if hee would forgive him that two pence, hee should not want a new rope at any time; withall, wished for his owne sake hee might not finde him at the like businesse againe.

It is also worthy the ob­servation, that when God would destroy and roote out a wicked family, or ge­neration from the face of the earth, he suffers enmity and discord to reigne and divide a kindred in their af­fections one towards ano­ther: The father hates the childe, the Childe the fa­ther: the sister cannot abide her brother, the brother [Page 116] speakes ill of the sister, pur­loyning one from the o­ther: they seldome or ne­ver see or visite in kindly maner one another: in sick­nesse one will not relieve or comfort one another; nay, many times grudge a nights lodging in a word, no more regard of blood or alliance amongst them, than among swine. This I have often observed, and when of such a family, in few yeares not one of the name hath beene left.

Of Clownes and rude be­haviour.

SCaliger reportethth,Angli ru­stici & Voscones sunt omni­um in hu­manisimi. that our English Coun [...]rey husbandmen, and Gas­coignes, to bee of all other the most clownish and un­civill, wherein hee is much deceived; for the Boores of High and Low Germany are tenne times worse, as well in their Education, Manners, and Civility, in respect of whom, ours in the generall, are most gen­tile, humane, and courte­o [...]s: Some wee have I confesse meerely terrae [Page 118] filii, Mushromes in a night, shot up and nourished by the dung of the earth, that have neither religion, wit, or moderation, professed enemies to understanding, learning, civility, and all manner of gentility, by nature commonly so base and miserable, that they could finde in their hearts they had come into the world like Calves, with skinnes of haire, that they might never have gone to a Drapers for cloth; or like Pan, to have got feete of horne, they could have kept their money from the shoe-maker: like that Em­blematicall Sow, (their [Page 119] noses are ever rooting in the earth) with Vlterius over her backe. They commonly love the Church so well, that they had ra­ther spend tenne pounds in Suit, than allow him one tithe pigge out of nine: Er­ra Pater, and this yeares Almanacke (if he can read) are the two onely bookes he spends his time in, and if a showre of raine extra­ordinarily happens in Hay-time, or harvest, hee grum­bles against God, beates his maides, and lookes cur­rishly upon any that speaks to him.

Of all men in the World he cannot endure Lawyers, [Page] but evermore hee is bar­king against them, as dogs doe at Tinkers; not because they stoppe holes in their dames kettles, but because they make their budgets of their skinnes: If a gentle­man or noble man happen to ride (in hawking time) over his grounds, he bannes and curses him and his fol­lowers to the pit of hell: for betweene your Clown and Gentleman there is e­ver an Antipathie. If I should tell you how the late Prince of Orenge, Grave Maurice hath been answered amongst his Dutch Boores, as he passed through the Countrey, [Page 121] you would say our Coun­trey of England was a Schoole of Civility in re­gard of those Countries.

Charles the fift, that reli­gious and puissant Empe­ror, when by fortune of warre, hee was pursued and chased by the Duke of Saxony, and the Lantgrave of Hesse, and in a very dark and rainy night having lo [...]t his way among the Heaths and Woods, having onely two or three in his compa­ny, fortuned to come to a Boores house, that stood alone under a woods side, & knocking desired enter­tainment, but to sit up by the fire till it were day; the [Page 122] Boore looking out at his window, (as Boares thrust their heads of the Franke) said, he and his wife were in bedde, and hee was some Skellum, or rogue, that would be out so late, if hee would, to use his owne words, Met s [...]i [...] verkens slaepen, rest him with his Pigges in an out house hee might, in hee should not come. The Emperor then desired of him to know what time of night it was; the Boore told him all by twee heuren, neere two of clocke in the morning; the Emperor asked him how he knew? the clown replyed, [...]ck he [...]t n [...] ghepist, [Page 123] hee had but newly made water: these entertain­ments are common a­mongst them, yea, were he the greatest Prince of the Empire. I once lived in a towne, where scarce a gentleman, or any of ci­vill carriage lived, and ha­ving found but ill [...]requitall for good deserts, I caused this to be written over the porch of their free-schoole doore, Subi dura a rudi­bus: It is Palindrome, the letters making the same a­gaine backwards. To know an absolute Clowne, ob­serve these his conditions; he had rather be spreading of dung than goe to the [Page 124] leanest sermon in the shire; he murmures at all pay­ments and levies, especi­ally the money to bee col­lected for the maintenance of his Majesties navy roy­all; If hee fortune to bee Church-warden of his Pa­rish, at every briefe gathe­ring in the Church hee reserves a groat or sixe pence to himselfe; if hee doe affect to follow the fashion in his cloathes, it is long of his wife, some gentlemans daughter, who was matched unto him for his wealth; and being fine, he takes place above her, & all women at the table: salute him on the way, [Page 125] he will give you never a word; his hands are com­monly unwashed, and his doublet unbuttoned, but never trussed: his ordinary discourse is of his last years hay, which he hopes will give fixe pounds the loade in Smithfield, and of the rate of Swine in R [...]mford market; all his jests consist in rude actions with the hand or foote: his speech is Lincolnshire about Wran­gle and Freestone: if hee be westward, about Taunton, and tenne miles beyond, & though the most of them weare russet, and have their high shooes well nai­led, yet they are often too [Page 126] hard for velvet and satten, in law tricks and quiddi­ties, and commonly hold their owne the longest, great men that hold them hard, and keepe them un­der, have them as they list; yeeld unto one of them, or stand to his mer­cy, you shall finde no Ty­rant more imperious and cruell: most true is that old verse:

Of Travaile.

THe true taste of our lives sweetnesse is in travaile upon the way, at home, or abroad in other Countries; for not onely it affordeth change of aire, which is very availefull to health, but variety of ob­jects and remarkable oc­casions to entertaine our thoughts, beside choise of acquaintance with able and excellent men in all faculties, and of all nations, and perhaps some such, as you would ever after thinke your labour and expence [Page 128] of money well bestowed, if you had but onely passed the sea for their acquain­tance: such an one I met withall, travailing in a very rainy evening, through a moody part of Westphalia, where I had lost my way, and it grew neare night, and in latine demanding of him the way toward Oldenburg, and how I had lost my way; using the word devi­avi hic, answered, huma­num est errare; to be short, hee would not suffer me to passe any further, but car­ried me home to his owne house, which was almost h [...]lfe a mile off, where I never found better enter­tainment, [Page 129] or had more friendlier respect in all my life.

The first thing in any good Towne where ever I came, so soone as I had made choyse of mine Inne and lodging, was of my acquaintance, for in all places you sh [...]ll meet with very civill and courteous people, evermore of the better sort, (in Italy espe­cially) who will shew you all respect and kindnesse, but without charge; you must never put them to a­ny expence or charge, no not so much as to come to dinner to their houses, though you bee solemnly [Page 130] invited; and on the con­trary, look that nobody be chargeable to you: you shall have many times (as also here in England) as soone as you are alighted at your Inne, or Harbery, fellowes that will insinuate themselves into your com­pany and acquaintance, be­ginning either by commen­ding your horse, or deman­ding how farre you have come that day, or of what Countrey you are, and the like; and after perhaps will offer their service to shew you the Towne, to bring you acquainted with some famous man there living, or carry you ad calidas, & [Page 131] callidas, solis filias, (as Lip­sius calleth them) to t [...]e handsomest wenches about the towne. Sed aures ob­tura, ad has Syrenum canti­unculas, rather bee alone purusing some good booke in your chamber, or walke by your selfe.

You shall in travaile ne­ver lose ought by silence; many have paide dearely for their lavish tongues in strange Countries, especi­ally being far from home; and where they must not bee allowed to bee their owne interpreters, especi­ally in matter of Religion & State; when you shall find it safer and better to talke [Page 132] of the great Turke, than the Pope.

Let your observations be of such things whereby you may profit your selfe or your Countrey, your selfe by procuring & win­ning the acquaintance of the famous men in Science or Art, for the bettering of your understanding, and skill in whatsoever you pretend unto; if you study Physicke, you shall have in Paris, and other places of France, the most learned and able Physitians of the world: if you would bee a Civilian, Bononia, and o­ther Cities of Italy will afford you the rarest men in [Page 133] that way; if you delight in painting, and the use of your pencill, the Nether ­lands; every where will afford you rare Masters, if in other Mechanicall Arts, the higher Germany, which Bodine calleth hominum officinam, for the variety of Ar [...]ists there, and therein Spires, Shasbourge, Noren­burge, and many other fa­mous Cities, will furnish you with skilfull men a­boundantly.

I have observed, as I have gone along those Countries, many excellent poynts of good husbandry in fields & gardens, which wee here in England have [Page 134] not beene acquainted withal; as in manuring their land so at one time, that it shall beare a great croppe seaven or tenne yeares to­gether; their artificiall Ploughes, that shall turne up in a day as much as two of ours; their neate and handsome stacking of their corne abroad to stand dry all the Winter; their many devices for draining of grounds, casting of Moates, and Towne ditch [...]s; many excellent formes of graf­ting, adulterating Plants & flowers, with infinite such devices.

Apparrell abroad is much dearer than here in [Page 135] England, especially cloth; Stuffes are cheape, and or­dinary in the Netherlands, so are velvets and silkes a­bout Naples, and other parts of Italy, and com­monly worn of tradsemens wives and daughters.

Boots & shooes are very deare every where, especi­ally in France; for leather is there very scarce; so that if I had but the Monopolie of carrying old shoos (new­ly mended) and Mastiffe whelps into France, I should think to live as well and as happily, as Ma [...]ter Major of Quinborrow. For dyet I bought what I liked, and learned one thing, not [Page 136] usuall with us in England, (save in Cookes shoppes) that is, to know the price of meate before you eate it: If our young gallants would observe this rule in costly Taver [...]s, (who only call for a bill at the end of dinner) they would have money many times when they want it; but they e­steeme it a disgrace better befitting Carriers and A­quivitae men, than gentle­men of ranke: hence it commeth to passe they pay eight shillings for a Capon, as my L. of N. gentleman did once at Greenwich, a­nother a marke or foure­teen shillings for a paire of [Page 137] soales, I having often bought as good at Ben [...]ing­ton in Holand for three­pence. And as I would not have you to bee familiar with every one; so it is good, so to retire your selfe, as you scorned to eate or drinke in any other company; for note, you cannot take up your cham­ber, and call for your meat thither, but commonly an ordinary is kept, where all the guests sit downe toge­ther, of what countrey or condition it makes no mat­ter, if they be merry, you must be so to, or at least faine your selfe to bee; if they drinke to you, you [Page 138] must pledge them, (for their draughts are but sip­pings, not carousing whole pints and quarts, as among our tosse-pots in England) so shall you be belov'd and made welcome amongst them, otherwise they will suspect you to bee a spy from the enemy, or to scorne their company, whereby you come into danger of being quarrelled withall, suddenly stabd a­mong the Dutch with a knife, in Italy to be poyso­ned, &c.

Travaile (like Physicke upon several complexions) workes diversly, with a staid and mature judge­ment [Page 139] it doth best, such re­turne much bettered by it: those who are sent young and childish (whom foolish fathers and mothers would have thought to be rare & ripe witted, become the worse by it, for wanting judgement to understand the true use of travaile, to know with whom to con­verse, and what to observe, but onely to follow and to weare a love-locke on the left shoulder, returne home as wise as the Asse, who undertaking to travaile in­to farre Countries, and to acquaint himselfe with strange beasts abroad, at the last returning home, he [Page 140] asked the Foxe how he li­ked him since he undertook his journey? the Foxe re­plyed, & told him plainly, hee saw no difference in him, but that his Maine and his Taile were growne lon­ger: if they chance to goe into the Netherlands, and perhaps get to bee gentle­man of a company but of three weekes standing; then at their return among their companions, they must bee stiled by the name of Cap­taine, they must stand upon that ayre title, and meere nothing, called Reputation, undertake every quarrell and challenge, or become seconds to those that will: [Page 141] It is a great want of discre­tion, beside very dange­rous, to tell or shew your money openly in strange places where you are un­knowne, or to travaile upon the way extraordinary rich in you cloaths; hereby many have beene betrayed and lost their lives, as a gentleman, and an acquain­tance of mine, Master W.T. was pistold by his guide in the forrest of Ardenna, be­cause riding in a suit laide thicke with gold lace, hee was supposed to have had store of crowns.

Erasmus I remember in his Epistles, tells us how narrowly hee scaped his [Page 142] throa [...]e cutting one night in an Inne, where hee drew store of money out of his velvet pouch, (which com­monly [...] hee wore at his girdle) that he was faine to rise in his shirt, with ano­ther that lay in the same chamber, to barricado the doore with a forme and some stooles, to keepe his host out, who was an arrant thiefe.

Be as thrifty as possible you can, as well in your ap­parrell as dyet; for you shal many times be [...]ard beset for money, and if you can otherwise avoyd it, goe seldome upon credit, which is not gentleman-like [Page 143] abroad, but much more base in England, where for the most part, hosts and hostesses are farre more unconscionable than they are there: for spend five pounds at a sitting, you shall not be misreckoned a peny, and they expect as just dea­ling from you; here you shall bee shomefully wron­ged, except you very nar­rowly looke to your lay­ings out, besides meete with ill penny-worths, paying (as good many times) as forty in the hun­dred for the use of your credit.

I could wish every yong gentleman before hee tra­vailes [Page 144] into forraigne parts, non esse Domi peregrini, be­cause here are many rari­ties in England, and our coast townes are worthy the view and the knowing, if it were but onely to sa­tisfie strangers, who are many times inquisitive of the state of England; yea, and many times know it better than most of our home-borne gentlemen: herein Sir Robert Carre of Sleford in Lincoln-shire, a noble gentleman, and my worthy friend was much to be commended.

A religious honest man.

I Never knew any man of sound judgement, and fit for employment, either in Church or Common-wealth, but he endeavou­red to bee religious: for Virtutem vel optimarum actionum Basis Religio; and there are many, who though they make no out­ward shew thereof, by those actions and gestures which may also bee com­mon to Hypocrites, yet the bias of the life of an honest man would ever leane (for doing and discourse) to a [Page 146] serious service of God; hence such men keepe their Church together, with their families constantly, there carrying himselfe with the greatest reverence and humility.

You shall know a religi­ous honest man by humi­lity, charity, or love of hos­pitality; hence he is dis­creet in his discourse, af­fable, pleasant, and peace­able, among his neigh­bours loving, and be­loved.

He back-biteth and tra­duceth none, meddleth not with matters and affaires of s [...]ate; well knowing (like those builders of the towre [Page 147] of BABEL) that a rash affectiō of things too high, bringeth discord and con­f [...]sion; and if any contro­versie shall arise among his neighbours, hee commonly hath compounded the strife [...]re the Layer can finger his [...]ee.

His tythes hee payeth chearefully, and with the most; well knowing that God by Ma [...]achy hath pro­mised a blessing by the o­pening of the windowes of Heaven upon such as pay their tythes truely, and with alacrity.

Hee is versed and very ready in the holy Scrip­tures, & their O [...]hodox [...]ll [Page 148] exposition, never wresting, or misapplying them (as Sectaries do) to serve their purposes, & suite with their fantasticall, or wilfull opi­nions.

As Mahomet, and his followers, affirmed that place of St. Iohn, Iohn 14. where our Saviour saith [...] I will send you a comforter, to bee meant of himselfe; or in that place something to bee written of Mahomet, which the Christians have scraped or blotted out.

So not long since a false Prophet affirmed that himsel [...]e was one of those two witnesses St. Iohn spea­ [...]h of, in the 11 of the [...]elatio [...].

[Page 149]The like examples may bee produced from David George, Knipperdoling, Hacket, and others, which we passe.

Againe, the moderate religious man forbeares with open mouth to raile against the Pope, but speakes of him in a modest reverence, as of a great Bi­shop, and a temporall Prince.

Hee is also to his power a benefactor to poore schollers, and though not learned himselfe, hee is a prompter of learning. So was Wickham Bishop of Winc [...]ester, who being no great Scholler himselfe, [Page 150] said, to make amends, he would make schollers, and soo [...]e after hee founded Winchester schoole, and New Colledge in Oxford.

He loveth unity, & pray­seth it as well in Church or Common-wealth, as his ow [...]e parish and family; hence is he oppo [...]ite ex di­a [...]etr [...], to seperati [...]ts, and schismaticks, who, since they fall in my way, let me tell you what out of my owne experience I have knowne, & found by them, having remained a good time at Leiden in Holland, and other places where they have their congrega­tions and convintecles: [Page 151] There are about thirty two severall sects, among some whereof are called Hui [...] ­copers, other huis [...] ver coo­pers, 1. house buyers, and house sellers, and such en­mity there is among them, that the pride of their heads, or ring-leaders, will never an unity one with a­nother.

Now why our sectaries should single out themselvs aftes this manner, I con­fesse I know not, perhaps, not without the divine providence, and for that very same reason, Ioseph A­costa giveth of beasts and birds of prey, whom God (as pernicious and hurtfull [Page 152] to man-kinde) hath set at ods and at enmity one with the other [...] for if they should accompany together in heardes and flockes, they would over-runne and de­vour a whole countrey: as among beasts: Lyons, Beares, Wolves, Foxes, Badgers, Polcats, &c. And among birds, Eagles, Hawkes; Kites [...] Ravens, Vultures, Buzzards, &c. When Nature for the be­hoofe of man, hath set o­thers which are most pro­fi [...]able unto him at unity a­mong themselves, and to live peacefully one with the other: As Kine, Hor­ses, Deere, Sheepe, Goates, [Page 153] Conies, &c. Of Birds, Pi­geons, Geese, Ducks, Par­tridges, the most of the daintiest of Sea birds, with sundry others.

I have heard some of their Sermons, and beene present at their private ordinary discourse, & som­what alway seasoned the same, that savoured either of Pride or Malice, or both; especially against our Church, and the happy & well settled estate of the [...]me.

Wee must make a diffe­rence betweene our stricter people in England, whom your prophaner sort call Preci [...]ians, and these who [Page 154] are super-intendants over a few button-makers and weavers at Amstelr [...]dam, for of ours we have many conformable to his Maje­sties lawes, and the Ce­remonies of the Church, carrying themselves very honestly and conscionably, among which I rec [...]on not the professed Puritan, of whom I know many, who gladly take that name and profession upon them, be­ing tradse-men in Cities & market townes, onely to get custome to their shops, and working th [...]mselves in­to the opinion of the world to bee hone [...]t, Reli­gious, and upright dealing [Page 155] men; they procure to them­selves many salutation; (like the Pharises) in the market place, and hence they become the prime men at feasts and mee [...]ings, and are trusted with the estates and education of mens children at the death of the Parents, out of the opinion of their zeale and honesty, whereby they be­come marvellous rich, and by consequent so proud, that (as St. Augustine saith of the Donatists) ne nostri [...]uiquam dicant Ave, they will not bid a conformist good morrow, or good e­ven, and sitting in their furre or velvet fac'd [Page 156] gownes, with their neat set double ruffes, they tax [...] (with Augustus) all the world. But some of these men have not many yeares since reformed [...] them­selves.

There is yet another sort amongst us worse than these; who like double faced Ianus, one way look to their owne Parish [...] Church, and the other eastw [...]rd towards St. Peters in Rome; these indeed are filii hu [...]us seculi, and here onely have thei [...] reward; making Religion onely as a cloake, or w [...]t coat to bee worne both sides alike: Some professe themselves [Page 157] Roman Catholicks, that their families might keep Lent, all the Saints Eves, Em­ber, and all other fasting-dayes, whereby their Ma­sters save in their victuals their whole yeares wa­ges: another while they are Protestants, and will monthly visit the Church, to avoyd the penalty of the Law, or to insinuate themselves into some gain­full emploiment or other in the Cōmon-wealth; these be those luke-warm Laodi­caeans whom God cannot digest,Rev. 3. [...]6 [...] and whom I have knowne bo [...]h Protestan [...] & P [...]pist [...] alike to have dis­carded. There I remem­ber [Page 158] is a Countrey, whether Vtopia or no, where those who side equally with contrary factions, weare party coloured coates and stockings. Besides, they are great rackers of their Tenants; backward and restie in all levies and pay­ments for the common good; seldome charitable to the poore, and the worst payers of their [...]ythes and duties to the Church and Minister that may bee.

Of Discretion.

THe old Lord Burleigh, sometime Treasurer of [Page 159] England, comming to Cambridg [...] with Queene Elizabeth, when he was led into the publicke schooles, and had much commended their convenience, beauty, and greatnesse, they had sometime received from their founder, Humphrey the good Duke of Gloce­ster; yea marry, said hee, but I finde one schoole wanting in our Vniversi­ties, and that is the schoole of Discretion [...] in what sence he meant it I know not, bu [...] most true it is, that though Dis [...]retio [...] bee no [...]e of the liberall Sciences, it is an Art that gives all other their value and estimati­on, [Page 160] and without which (as a Ship without an helme, an Horse without a bridle, or a blind man without a guide.) Men doe they know nor what, goe they know not whither, and in­stead of steering a right course run upon the rocks of their irrecoverable ruine.

Di [...]cretion is so called of Discerno [...] which properly is to sever or part one thing from another, as to divide or sift the flower from the branne, silver from the leade, a quintescence from Elementary parts. So that Metaphorically it is applyed to our judgements [Page 161] in severing or dividing ver­tue from vice, that which is honest, from that which is profitable, the necessary from the superfluous, a friend from a foe &c. and indeede it is the highest pitch of understanding and judgement, which the most men seeme to have, but fall shorr off, yea in their weightest actions: in which our actions of it claimeth so great an interest, that with­out discretion the whole course of our lives is no­thing else but folly, or rash­nesse, as I found well ex­prest in this Distich which I found engraven upon the hest of a Learned Ladies [Page 162] knife in Brabant:

Whence commeth it to passe, that so many men undo themselves and their posterity for ever, by sel­ling and making away such faire estates left them by their friends, but lacke of Discretion, their judge­ments being so corrupted, that they thinke they shall never want, their children will otherwise be provided for; while they weare the best cloathes they shall be respected, beloved of La­dies, saluted by Citizens, [Page 163] congied by Courtiers, and the like: now the salt of Discretion should first have seasoned his braines in this or the like way; while wal­king in his garden in the Countrey, or under a soli­tary wood side, he should have thought with himself, God hath blessed me with with a fai [...]e estate: and as Henry the fourth said to his sonne the Prince; Getting is a chance, but keeping is a wit: and what a difference of happinesse is there in en­joying and comming freely to an estate left by friends, than in attaining to the same by continuall labour of my body? hazzarding [Page 164] my health in sitting up late, rising early, to endure heate, hunger, cold, and the like extremi­ties; then to bee onely ma­ster of the same a very few yeares; yea sometime dayes; that most truely Martiall as a principal hap­pines accounted,

Now if I part with this, let mee beleeve, and as­suredly say with the Phy­losopher, A privatione in habitum nulla est re­gressio, I may another day come by and view, [Page 165] saying with a sigh of mee and mine, Fuimus Troes, This was ours once; how have I wronged you my poore Children? who will feede and enter­taine you, but you are like to wander up and downe, and seeke untime­ly death in the errors of your lives; and for my selfe, who will re­lieve me when all is gone? I would bee loath to depend upon any, be­ing of a generous and free spirit, and debere quibus nolis miserrimum. & these times are grown so cunning, & flinty hard, that necessitous men can hardly [Page 166] borrow five shillings o^f their best friends and ac­quaintance. And how ma­ny great heires have I knowne to have begged & dyed in Ale-houses and barnes, surfeiting of that aboundance which hath beene lefe them? These & the like notions mature Discretion should have sug­gested, and beene mistresse of the Key, before the house had beene parted withall.

Out of the heate of thy youth, unknowne to thy parents or friends, thou matchest thy selfe to some snout-faire young thing [...]ot worth a gr [...]at, where­by [Page 167] thou art sure ever after to be dis-esteemed and un­dervalued, Discretiō (hadst thou been acquainted with her) would have told thee, nil temerè, doe nothing rashly, and how marriage (with ones calling and pro­fession) is the greatest acti­on he shall undertake in his whole life, and like a strata­gem in warre, in which hee can erre but once; and how beautifull soever she bee, the Dutch women can tell you, Good lookes buy nothing in the Market [...] moreover, in stead of honourable (ma­ny times) or worshipfull Kinred and alliance, you shall have on her side a [Page 166] needy kindred, alwayes re­lying upon you by begging or borrowing; lastly, after the spring-time of her beauty, and your amorous desire is over, you begin to loath her more than ever you lov'd her; hence pro­ceedes your perpetuall dis­content, home bred quar­rels, scoffes & jeering from the neighbours, a weary life to servants; and to con­clude, a parting or divorce­ment between your selves, which Discretion (had you beene a scholler in her schoole) would have easily taught you to have preven­ted. Let these two exam­ples, in stead of many o­ther, [Page 169] shew the inestimable value of Discret [...]on in all our actions: I will now come to speake of Discre­tion wee ought to have in speech and discourse.

An ill tongue in the holy Scripture is compared to a two edged sword, bitter words to arrowes, slande­rous and malicious to the poyson of Aspes; and it is the instrument many times of life and death, as well to the soule as the bo­dy; wherefore the old AE­gyptians dedicated their Persean tree, whose leaves are like tongues, and the fruite or apples like hearts unto Isis, meaning hereby [Page 170] the tongue and heart agree­ing together should be con­secrated to God onely, and his honour, and not in pro­faning or blaspheming his sanctified name, (usuall e­ven in these dayes among children in the streetes) or slandering and lyingly traducing others behinde their backes; wherefore we shew our Discretion in nothing more than in our speech and discourse: and hence came the word, Lo­quere ut te videam, for a na­turall foole so long as he is silent, for ought we know may be the wisest man in the company; and a great wit by too much babling, [Page 171] and suffering his tongue to runne at randome, often­times prooves a more foole than hee, speaking their pleasure of Princes, States­men, and Bishops, raising them higher or lower, as Dutch-men do their coine, to their owne advantage; hence they crave pardon (being questioned) of their eares that heard them [...] and stand in awe even of stran­gers & waiters upon them: Homer at [...]ibutes it as a prime vertue in Vlysses, that his words were few, but to the purpose. I confesse the Table, as with good dishes, so should bee [...]urni­shed with good discourse [...] [Page 172] for mirth at feasts and ban­quets hath ever been com­mended, and I deny not, but where men of severall dispositions meete, some­thing [...] may slip be­yond the bounds of Discre­tion, and these impertinen­cies, and quicquid inter po­cula liberius dictum fueret in mappa projiciatur cum mi­cis, as Erasmus holdeth: sitting without more adoe, having learned as much of Horace.

And Plutarch in Symposi­asis saith, it was a custome among the Lacedemoni­ans, that when they in­vited [Page 173] any kinse-man or friend unto their houses, they with a finger would poynt to the doore or porch and say, [...], No words must come from hence, which was the law of Ly­ [...]urgus; hence proceedeth it that in many places, as well in England, as the Low Countries, they have over their Tables a rose painted, and what is spoken under the Rose, must not be revealed; the reason is this; The Rose being sa­cred to Venus, whose a­morous and stolen sports that they might never bee revealed, her sonne Cupid [Page 174] would needes dedicate to Harpocrates the god of Si­lence [...] hence these (not in e­legan) verses.

And for the same reason [...]erusa & Oblivo were de­dicated to B [...]cchus, mea­ning what had beene done or spoken freely among merry cups, should either have been quite forgotten, or very slightly punished.

Of common ignorance.

THe world hath taken so much upon trust from credulous and super­stitious antiquity, that now adaies it will hardly be­leeve common experience: whereof I will produce some neither unplea­sant, nor unprofitable ex­amples.

There are many that be­leeve and affirme, that the Manna which is sold in the shoppes of our Apo­thecaries, to be of the same which fell from heaven, & wherewith the Israelites were fedde forty yeares in [Page 176] the wildernesse, which can­not so be by these reasons.

• 1. That Manna in the wildernesse was miracu­lous; this of ours naturall, falling from the heaven in [...]aire, cleare, and hot daies at certaine seasons of the yeare, in Calabria, and upon mount Libanus.
• 2. That Manna in the Wildernes [...]e was kept but onely one day, excepting the Eve of the Sabboth, when it remained uncor­rupt for two daies toge­ther; ours in shops will a­bide a yeare & more sweet and good.
• 3. That was a meat, ours a medicine to loosen the [Page 177] body, withall most excel­lent to purge choler, and ours so unfit to use for food, that if we eate much, and continually of it, our bowels will melt within us, and wee dye forth­with.

Now from that affinity & likenesse it hath from the other: in some things it borroweth the same name; that is, the whitenesse, the taste of an honey-like sweetnesse, and the place whence it commeth, that is the aire.

It is called in Hebrew Man, derived either from Mana to prepare, because it [...] prepared by God him­selfe, [Page 178] or else because when the Israelites saw it first fal, one said to the other, Man hu? What is this? Exodus 16. 16.

Manna Thuris, or the Manna of Frankinsence, as Pliny sheweth, is like neither of these; but one­ly the smaller and finer cornes of Frankinsence fal­ling out in the shaking and tossing two and fro.

If there bee any (as there be many) that cannot a­way with an ordinary pur­gation, their stomacks ta­king offence thereat, let them take but two ounces and a halfe of Manna, and it will purge choler m [...] [Page 179] easily and gently, and with­out any offence at all.

The like error hath anti­quity been possessed with, concerning the Beare, who is said to bring forth, instead of a proportioned whelpe, a lumpe of flesh without forme, which by often licking shee bringeth to its right shape: which Ovid verily beleeved, when he saith,

It is most false, for I have seene a Beare whelpe [Page 180] newly littered, in all re­spects like unto the dam, in head back, sides, feete, &c. like unto other young crea­tures, it is true the Beare licks it; so doth the Cow her calfe, the Mare her foale, and other creatures in like manner; but that by licking shee gives it forme and shape it is most untrue.

Scaliger affirmeth as, much, saying in our Alpes (meaning those about Pie­mount) the hunters caught a [...]he Beare bigge with yong, who beeing cut up, they found a whelpe within her of perfect forme and shape, &c.

The Diamond (saith Pliny) [Page 181] never agreeth with the Loadstone, l. 37. c. 4. but are so farre at enmity, each with either, that the Dia­mond will not suffer the Load [...]tone to draw any I­ron unto it, and happily if it doe, it will plucke and withdraw the same away unto it selfe, which is most untrue, as Garz [...]as ab Hor­to, and many other great Physitians & learned men have proved. And as true it is, that the Diamond can be broken by no meanes, but by the blood of a goate onely, I know not whether or no there be se­verall kindes of Diamonds, but I am sure, I have seene [Page 182] in the City of Antwarp the powder of a Diamond, and the afore-named Garzias affirmeth, with an Iron hammer it may be easily done, and himselfe hath seene it beaten into a fine powder.

It is moreover as com­monly beleeved as repor­ted, that the Swanne be­fore her death singeth sweetly her owne funerall song, which not onely Poets and Painters ever since the time of AEschylas, but even the chiefe among Phylosophers themselves have beleeved and publi­shed, as Plato, Aristotle, Chrysippus, Philostratus, Ci­cero, [Page 183] and Seneca: yet this hath proved a meere fable, so confessed by Pliny Athe­ [...]aus, and others, and confir­med by daily experience: see Bodin in Method hist. c. 4

The vulgar ignorance and simplicity is in these daies notably wrought upon by cunning Sectaries, preten­ding under a severe kinde of carriage and shew of re­ligion, the cure of their soules, and by medicinall impostures for the cure of their bodies; of the former I have spoken of, the later I will now say something.

For the first, true it is, they suffer themselves to be bitten of Serpents, espe­cially [Page 184] Vipers, but cleared & rid of their poison for they take their Vipers in Win­ter, when they lye halfe dead and benumbed with cold, and with a fine or small paire of tongues take away certaine little blad­ders about their teeth, wherein their poyson ly­eth, which beeing gone, their bi [...]ing is never dead­ly after: others keep their Vipers lean and halfe hun­ger-starved, & then throw amongst them some hard dryed flesh, which when they fall upon, their teeth sticke so fast in the same, that at once they power out all their poyson, and [Page 185] become harmelesse ever after; and of these they suffer themselves to be bit­ten, to the great admiration of the standers by; but if you happen to get a Viper fresh out of the field, and offer that to him to shew his skill, he will rather bee hanged than venture upon it; hereby their notorious cheating is discovered.

The other will have no­thing to doe with Ser­pents, but onely swallow­eth downe poyson (or see­meth so to doe) to utter his trade, or antidote to the people at as deare a rate as he can. These when they take poyson, take before [Page 186] hand, in Summer time, Let­ [...]uce, well steeped and soa­ked in oyle, but in winter the tripes, or fattest entrails of beasts; for by these meates they retund and a­bate the strength of the poyson; the coldnesse of the Lettuce, and fatnesse of the oyle an entrailes onely availing hereunto [...] neither is this all, but returning to their lodging they drinke good [...]tore of thicke milk, and cast it up againe; and if all cannot bee brought up­ward, the milke digested, conveighes it the other way.

But they having bin ma­ny times deceived by Arse­nicke, [Page 187] which having tar­ried so long with some, till it eate out their guts, they have found out a new tricke, which is, when they are upon their stage, they send a boy forthwith to the Apothicaries for Arse­nicke or Mercurie, beeing brought hee shewes it to the multitude about him, with the Apothicaries te­ [...]timony that is right and good: all the people see it, what then? he present­ly conveighes into the co­ver of a boxe lidde turned upward, upon which sticks Sugar, made into the forme and colour of Arsenicke, which Sugar he takes out, [Page 188] & puts into water or wine, drinks it off, fals downe, and keepes his breath, that you would certainly say he were quite dead, but hee remembers his Triacle, takes it, and is raised to life, then he commends his Antidote and Tria­cle to the skies. the peo­ple fetch it from him as fast as he can utter it, but if any afterward happen to use his triacle when they are poysoned indeed, it never does good, but they dye without all que­stion. I have spoken the more at large of these kinde of people that our Magistrates in Cities and [Page 189] townes may have a care of seeing themselves and the people abused by such runnagates, and artificiall picke-pockets, but wee are not much troubled with them here in Eng­land.

Of quietnesse and health.

VVE doe finde by dai­ly experience, that the Age of man very much declineth, and that men now, for the most part, are not halfe so strong & vigo­rous as they were in the memory of our fathers, as we may easily perceive by those arrowes of a yard [Page 190] or an ell long, which hang by the wals in many pla­ces of the North and west part of England, which the owners grandfather or great grandfather left behinde him for a monu­ment of his loyall affection to one of the Roses, under whose conduct he served an Archer; the shooting-Bu [...]s in Countrey Townes have lost much of their length since the beginning of Q. Elizabeths reigne. Who can wield that launce which Charles Brandon D. of Suffolke tilted withall, yet to be seene in the Tow­er? neither can so heavy armes be borne, as were [Page 191] not many years; our Pikes and Muskets are made farre lesse, because our lesser bodies finde them rather for burthen than use: Now if wee looke into the cause and true reason hereof, wee shall finde first the world declining, and like a mother in her age, to bring forth but weake and short-lived children; neither is this all, but we living in the last age of the world, wherein all iniquity and vice doth abound, men shorten their lives by over-eating and drinking, ease and want of exercise, luxury and incon­tinence, Temperance and Continencie being the [Page 192] maine and onely suppor­ters of our health, as in comparable Fer [...]elius af­firmeth: there are two things more (as these to our health) which conduce to our happinesse in this world, which are, Liberty and tranquillity or quiet of minde; these I confesse fall not to every mans share, most men living being in­volved in so many affaires: variety of cares and bu [...]i­nesse which attend us in this our earthly pilgri­mage, that this quiet of minde is as rare as Homers Nepe [...]the; many men not out of necessity, but of selfe-wilfulnesse, vexing [Page] [...] [Page] [...] [Page 193] and disquieting themselves without cause or reason. As how many rich, and men of great estates bee there in this Kingdome, of whose care of getting & purchasing there is no end; they never in all their lives (like the Asse that car­ried Venison, Pheasants, Capons, bottles of Wine, and other dainties upon his backe) tasting the sweetnes of what they had about them, but fedde upon the Thornes and Thistles of Vexation, griefe, and need­lesse carefulnesse, to en­rich some unthrifty sonne or kinse-man; or scrape up thousands for some dainty [Page 194] thing troubled with the green sicknesse, who within a year or two is stolen and marryed by a Tailor or Ho [...]teler.

Others againe are by na­ture cholericke, fretfull, quarrelsome, and evermore enemies to their owne rest, delighting to be meddlers and brokers in other mens businesse, as Eeles in trou­bled waters and mudde. Some out of curiosity, or the search of some deepe, and uncuoth invention, as firing shippes under water, making traps for the mon­strous Beare of Nova, Zem­la &c. or secret in Nature, as [...]etting the Load-stone [Page 195] and [...]et at enmity about I­ron and strawes: Others draw misery and vexation as with cords unto them, through weaknesse of judg­ment, when they marry disadvan [...]agiou [...]ly to them­selves either for estate, o [...] their owne dispositions, I meane, when themselves being gentle, and addicted to peac [...], m [...]tch with er­rant scolds; honest of life, meete with whoores, and the like.

So since we cannot make our selves Master of this so sweete a benefit Tran­q [...]illity of minde, let us (which is in our own pow­er) looke unto o [...]r health, [Page 201] whereof the most men are carelesse and negligent. To the conservation whereof, let us first consider the qua­lity of the aire in that place where we live, which is not only an Element, but an Aliment; for by it, if it be pure and good, our spi­rits are clarified and quick­ned, our blood rarified, and our hearts re [...]omfor­ted; for the whole body fareth the better for the goodnes of a pure & sweet aire: so that we find by ex­perience, that men are more sprightly, lively, and merry in an upland perfu­med, and fanned with the flower-sented aire of [Page 197] Countrey, and of better complexions, than in close lanes and noysome allies about the City, where the aire in such places is not good, but raw and cold: you may better it (especial [...]y in infe­ctious & dangerous times) by burning of severall sorts of sweete Wood, as Cipres, Iuniper, Bay, Rosemarie, Pine, the Turpentine, and Rosin-tree: if it bee too hot, open your windowes, and place your bedde toward the North, strewing the flowre with rushes, water-Lil­lies, Nenuphar, Lettuce, Endive, Sorrell, and ever [Page 198] and anon spri [...]kle cold wa­ter with a little vinegar of Roses [...] If any in Rome were troubled with Vlcers of the the Lungs, or fell into con­sump [...]ions, Galen would pr [...]sen [...]ly send them to mount Tabian, a most sweet Aire neare unto Naples, where, through the drynes of [...]he place, and drinking the milke of goates & kine, which f [...]d upon many me­dicinable hearbes (and pro­per to those diseases grow­ing in that place) they reco­vered in a short time: having perhaps learned out of Hip­pocrites, that i [...] long & lan­guishing diseases, there is nothing better then Aire, [Page 199] and place of our dwelling.

The next thing for our health we must have espe­ciall care of our eating and drinking: our meat [...] where­with our bodies are nouri­shed, proceedeth either from living creatures, or vegetables, that is plants: & of these there must bee a choyse had, that of Plants nourisheth farre lesse than the flesh of living crea­tures, excepting that grain whereof wee make our bread, as Wheat, Rie, Bar­ly, Oates, &c. Wheat being the chie [...]e: fruits nourish very little; of fruits, Che­ries and Grapes are the best. Melon, Cowcumbers, [Page 200] and Citrulls are good for cholericke stomackes, they breed grosse blood, are ve­ry cold, and hard of dige­stion: Platina tels us in the life of Pope Paul the second, how the said Pope two hou [...]es before night was taken suddenly with an Apoplexie, being a lit­tle be [...]ore very well, and complaining of no disease or paine, which came through eating of 2 whole Muskmellons. An. 1471.

And how many in these our times kill themselves with overmuch drinking, the cause of many long and deadly diseases; as Apople­xies, Dropsies, Palsies, the [Page 185] Gout, & many other; and I know not whether any of the colder Northern Na­tion herein excell us, drun­kennesse now a dayes be­ing growne into that re­quest, that it is almost estee­med a vertue, at least a gen­tleman like quality to ca­rouse, sit up whole dayes & nights at it.

Keeping neither Method nor measure in their eating and drinking, which the ancient Grecians, and o­ther nations were so pre­cise in it: England former­ly having beene acc [...]n­ted [Page 202] the most [...]ober and temperate nation in the world: neither were we e­ver noted for this vice, till (as Mr. Camden [...]aith) wee had to do with the Nether­lands in their warres. Also being from all antiquity our English drinke: Britanni (saith Pliny) habent potus genus quod Alicam vocant: which do [...]btlesse was our Ale, Beere, and [...]ase viols, came into England in one yeare, in the time of King Henry the seaventh. But tha [...] I may conclude con­cerning those things wher­on ours doth principall [...]y depend, which are, the Aire [...], eating, drinking [...] [Page 203] sleepe & waking, mooving, and exercise, rest, evacuati­on of excrements, venerall recreation, and passions of the minde; that wee may live to serve God, to doe our King and Country ser­vice, to bee a comfort to our friends, and helpfull to our Children, and others that depend upon us, let us follow Sobriety and Tem­perance, and have (as Tully saith) a diligent care of our health, which we shall bee sure to doe, if we will ob­serve and keepe that one short (but true) rule of Hip­pocritas, [...]. All things mode­rately, and in measure.