CHAP. 1. How necessary, and what Con­sideration is.

PLants haue but a Vegetatiue faculty, and beasts haue but a Sensitiue power to pro­duce those effects which nature (or ra­ther the guider of natures workes) hath ordained them to execute in their seve­rall kindes: but man alone (aboue all the rest) hath the most excellent helpe of Reason to order his affections, and go­verne his thoughts, and his deedes. Why should not man then (so farre. exceeding all other creatures in this most admirable and powerfull gift of Reason) expell thereby all the perverse passions, the beastiall lustes, and the fonde de­sires of the minde: which many times make him inferiour to the most vile and most contemptible creatures of the world? If vve would know the reason of this so great an evill, it is because he doth seldome accompany his actions with Consideration, which is the chiefe ruler and governesse vnder Reason: for where Con­sideration doth not first open the dore, and make the first ente­rance into any action of accompt, there commonly the successe is such as breedeth but sorrow, shame, and confusion: and where due Consideration commeth before, and with our deedes, it is sel­dome seene there, but that the event falleth out according to our expectation. This being so, it were not amisse to looke som­what into this glasse of Consideration, therein to behold (as neere as we may) the mappe and character of humane Condition.

And because consideration is founde to bee a matter of so great moment in directing the course of every mans life, as that it may iustly be called the loadstone of mans life: it were con­venient first to know what this consideration is, before wee en­deuoure to iudge of the effects thereof.

Consideration (as Thomas Aquinas doth define it) is the ope­ration of the vnderstāding,Conside­ration. or the processe of Reason pertaining to the contemplation of the trueth. Consideration therefore is more generall,Cogitatiō. Meditatiō. & more profitable then is Cogitation, or Medi­tation. For Cogitation is but a particular power of collecting in­dividuall intentions: and Meditation, but an inwarde behol­ding, busied in the inquisition of thinges: but this our Con­sideration, is the operation of all the vnderstanding: as hath beene already defined.Contem­plation. Delibera­tion. Likewise some alleadge that Contem­plation belongeth onely to divine thinges. And Deliberation properly appertaineth to humane and political matters: but this our Consideration doeth comprehend both, or at the least is con­versant in both.

CHAP. 2. Why some men are more given to Considera­tion then others.

THe causes that some men are more deliberate, and more consideratiue in their actions then others, are diverse: ei­ther proceeding from the well or evill situation of the in­teriour senses; or arising from the good, or badde constitution of their complexions; or comming of the company that they most commonly keepe, and the exercise that they do chiefe­ly vse.

As touching the first,The first cause. which is the situation and due proporti­on of the interiour senses: how much that doth availe to the at­taining of Consideration, by this we may conceiue; that as the senses haue their several seates in the braines, so do they receiue their temperature, according to the temperature of that parte, [Page 3]wherein they are placed, and there-after are men made apte or vnapt to enter into due Consideration.

As for example, the first of the interiour sences (which both Philosophers and Phisitions doe call the common sense, 1. Common sense. be­cause it is common to all the exteriour senses to convaigh their shapes and formes vnto it) is placed in the forepart of the braine, having a severall cell or roome, in which the fiue nerues (com­ming from the fiue exteriour senses) doe meete, if this bee not conveniently moist, and of a convenient quantity, it cannot re­ceiue the right shape of these, and consequently the other sen­ses cannot concurre to consider aright thereof.

The second sense is called the Imaginatiue sense, 2. Imagina­tiue sense. Although Aristotle maketh no mention of this Ima­ginatiue sense, yet I thought good here­in to follow other Phi­losophers, who doe make this distinct frō the other three. which also is placed in the fore-part of the braine next vnto the Common sense: and the office thereof is to containe & retaine the formes of those things, which the exteriour senses doe present vnto the Common sense: for that the Cōmon sense of it selfe consisteth meerely of moisture, which is apt to receiue, but not to retaine: and this Imaginatiue sense is composed of drinesse, which con­serveth the figures of thinges more firmely: therefore if this sense hath not also his right quality and condition, the true ob­iectes of thinges sensible cannot be well conserved to be consi­dered of.

The next is called the Phantasie (or as some say) the Estima­tiue sense, which is placed in the middle part of the braine, be­twixt the Common sense and the Memory: this sense serueth to compose, to devide, and to distinguish of the shapes, which are presented vnto the Common sense, and preserued by the I­maginatiue sense;3 Phātasie. and this sense is seated in the middle parte of the heade, as a cel to receiue those figures from the Common sense and Imaginatiue, as to take them againe out of the Me­mory being the store-house of the head: it is composed of heat, by which it is in much motion, and into it doe resort all the mo­ving spirites, but if it doe exceede an ordinary temperature of heate, it maketh too much motion in the braine, and leaueth no liberty to a setled Consideration.

The last of the interiour senses, is the Memory, 4 Memory. which is pla­ced [Page 4]in the hinder parte of the head: the cell and situation of this sense is more dry, and somewhat harder then the rest of the braine, because (as it vvas saide before) that drynes is the cause of Retention, so this sense beeing made to retaine the shape of things, vvhich are delivered from the Common sense vnto the Imaginatiue, but also the Memory must retaine the shapes of intentions, vvhich the Imaginatiue doeth present vnto it: so as it is truely tearmed the Treasury of the minde: and therefore if the Memory haue not his iust proportion of dry­nes neither exceeding nor vvanting much thereof, then it cannot retaine well; and so the Consideration (which is not only a Messenger, but as it were a Counsellour betwixt the Memory & the rest of the Senses) cānot receiue his right course.

The second cause,The second cause, vvhich we saide first did much helpe, or hinder our Consideration, is the Constitution of the fovvre Complexions according to the operation of the fowre Elements in mans body: for the Phylosophers affirme that the temperature of the minde, followeth the temperature of the body: and the temperature of the body consisteth in the Composition of the foure Complexions, vvhich receiue and participate the qualities of the foure Elements; as for example; 1 the sanguine Complexion doth participate with the Element of the aire, which is by nature hotte and moist: these two qualities in the sanguine Complexion do worke this operation, that it causeth a ready conceipt, but it doth divert the mind from any deepe Consideratiō.

2 Also the Phlegmaticke Complexion, cōsisting of colde and moi­sture, hath this property, that by reason of over much coldnes, it doth dull the spirites, whereby they cannot aptly conceiue; and because of much moisture, it cannot retaine what is received: therefore it is vnapt for Consideration.

3 The cholericke which doth cōsist of heate and drynes is some­what more apte to conceiue then the Phlegmatīcke, and yet in that the heate is not mixed with either colde or moisture to qualifie the same, it doth not plant any firme leasure to consider what is to be done.

4 The melancholicke Complexion, that is made of colde and [Page 5]drynes, (vvhich in their natures doe make a better mixture of moderation) doth plante a firme leasure to consider what is to be done, and therefore is fittest for Consideration.

Besides this absolute predomination of each of these first foure Qualities in mens bodies, vvhereby they are made either apte or vnable for Consideration sometimes; there is a mixture of the Complexion in one body in such sorte that it can hardly be saide which of two hath the greatest power or predominancy, and then there is many times the best temperature in the bo­dy, and consequently the minde is more apte for Conside­ration and the life of man is longer preserued. As for example; vvhen the cholericke and phlegmaticke Complexions are so mix­ed, that the cholericke hath some what the superiour power, and the phlegmaticke is proportioned vnto it, then the drynes of the one doth somevvhat qualifie the over-much moistnes of the other, vvhereby this temperature maketh a man more apte for Consideration. So sanguine and melancholy, being mixed in such sort as the sanguine in some small degree doth surmount the melancholy, it maketh a more even proportion of the foure first Qualities in one body: by which composition (and as they call it a Communicating of the contrary qualities in the foure Elementes) there is made a reconciliation of their contrary effectes, and a coniunction of their forces, whereby the minde of man is more fitte for Consideration.The thirde cause.

The third cause which helpeth or hindereth Consideration is (as hath beene before alleadged) the Company, which we keepe, and the Studies which we vse: for though these fore-re­cited causes may be greate helpes or hinderances to our Consi­deration, as the situation of the senses, and the constitution of the complexions, as being instrumental causes of Consideratiō, yet these may bee aptely disposed, and yet Consideration in some sorte may be wanting. For as we see instrumentes, which are excellentlie composed, and haue in themselues a verie sweete sounde, if they bee vvell tuned and vvell played on; yet if he that shoulde play thereon doth not perfourme his parte; either by reason of the company, with whome he is, and [Page 6]doth more attend their actions, then his owne play; or else, by meanes of some other actions he hath in hand, doth not exqui­sitely vse and exercise his skill; then the instrument, on which he playeth, looseth the sweetnesse of his sounde, and the true vse thereof: so is it in the vse of Consideration; for although the interiour senses bee well seated, and the complexions wel composed, which are as instrumentes of the minde, yet if the minde it selfe be not by good company and good exercise well settled to Consideration, these instrumentes loose the sweete­nesse of their sounde, and the effectes of Consideration by them cannot haue a right course. For proofe hereof; first, to beginne with company & conversation of good or evil men, how much the one helpeth & the other hindereth Consideration, we may see by the example of sundry younge men, who of their owne dispositions haue beene civill, discreete, and well inclined to Consideration, vntill that they comming into euill company haue by imitating their light behaviour beene brought to be al­togither carelesse and vnconsiderate:Eccles. 13. It is true, that hee which toucheth pitch, shall bee defiled therewith, and that he, which kee­peth ill company, shal be in the ende carried from all good con­sideration.Psalm. 18. For with the good (as it is said) then shalt learne goodnesse, and with the perverse thou shalt be perverted. Againe we see on the other side, that the company and conversation of graue, learned & considerate men doth much mooue vs vnto the considerati­on of their behaviour, and by their example wee learne the like to become considerate as they are: and by the counsaile of such graue men many times the rash and vnstaied humors of youth are tempered and tuned to the right meane & measure of Con­sideration: as Catoes graue conversation was not onely a lan­terne, but also a lesson (for all those that knew him) to learne consideration.

Now lastly for exercise,The fourth cause. how that doeth helpe or hinder the course of our Consideration, wee may conceiue it by knowing that exercise is of two sortes; either of the body, or of the mind: the exercise of the body we cal Labour, the exercise of the mind we call Study. For the first, which is the exercise of the body, we [Page 7]finde that this being moderately vsed maketh the body strong and healthy, whereby the minde is also made more free to full­fill his functions, especially in the course of Consideration: but if the body bee over-laboured, it breedeth a wearinesse and a weakenesse in the partes thereof, whereby also the minde is mo­lested, & lesse at liberty to enter into Cōsideration what ought to be done. Likewise for Study, it hath the like or greater ope­ration, then Labor hath, in making the minde fit or vnfit for Cō ­sideration: because we haue it in dayly experience, that mode­rate Study doth inlighten the mind, & kindle the pure bright-shining fire of Consideration. Yea many times it hath the pow­er to divert mens mindes from evil cogitations, and to convert them vnto the due consideration of themselues and of those thinges, that belonge vnto them.Xenoph de dict. & fact. Socrat. As Socrates said vnto a skil­ful Physiognomer, who tolde him that hee was a man of a wic­ked disposition, (whereat others laughed knowing the contra­ry) it is true said Socrates which thou tellest me that by nature I was wicked and of a lewd condition, but by my study, learning, and consideration, I haue corrected those evill conditions. So we see that moderate Exercise, and moderate Study doe much availe to the attaining of Consideration, & of those good con­ditions which do follow Cōsideration. But on the contrary, im­moderate Study doth much spende the spirits and weaken the braine, whereby the course of due Consideration is very much hindered.

CHAP. 3. Ʋnto what we shoulde apply the scope of our Consideration.

NOW having saide somewhat how necessary, and what consideration is, as also what thinges doe most helpe or hinder this Consideration; it commeth next in order to shew vnto what wee ought chiefly to bende the course of our Consideration. Wherein we may beholde by the example of [Page 8]other mens behaviours, that most men are very carefull and doe vse very great Consideration in the compassing of those things which they do desire most. As for example, the covetous man doth labour all the power of his Consideration to attaine vnto riches. The ambitious man doth enter into Consideration of no onething so much, as how to come to preferment, and to obtaine dignities and honour. The lascivious man doth straine the stringes of his Consideration only to compasle his pleasures. So that these men (and others of all conditions) seeme to vse no Consideration in any thing, but only on that, which they desire most, and about which they apply all their care and in­dustry, leaving all other thinges, as matters (in their opinions) of no moment: when as perchance that, vvhich they so much seeke after, and doe so carefully imploy all their Considerati­ons about, in other mens constructions may be of no such con­sequence, and worthy of no great Consideration: As the cove­tous man doth admire why the ambitious do bend their whole Consideration about the seeking of honours, great authority, great names and preheminence: which the covetous accomp­teth but as blastes of winde, blowne away with the breath of mens mouthes: on the other side, the ambitious man recko­neth of the covetous man, but as of one, that is base minded, because hee bestoweth all his Consideration to procure him wealth without vsing the same to any other purpose then to pinch himselfe and his poore neighboures, not knowing vvho shall enioy them after his decease, or whither hee shall haue them himselfe as long as he liveth. Likewise the lascivious man laugheth at both the covetous man and the ambitious: & they both as much at him, whom they deeme altogither vnconside­rat, in that he hath no other Consideration of any matter, which doeth concerne him most, but only his vaine pleasure, which they can say he doth most commonly purchase with repentance of his time mispent, his health decaied and his hability consu­med: so that we see most men doe mislike the course of other mens Considerations, and few doe take the right course them­selues of due Consideration, because al do aime at an end, which [Page 9]they thinke shoulde bee good vnto themselues: but there is a goodnes, which is in appearaunce onely, but not indeede: and there is a goodnes on truth, & on substance, without vaine shewe. Now to the attaining of this goodnes (which is true goodnes in­deede) ought our Consideration to be directed: and for effe­cting thereof,Bernard de Consid ad Eugen. We ought to consider foure thinges. we must follow the course & counsell of Bernard in his foure bookes of Consideration written to Eugenius, vvhome hee vvilleth to consider chiefely these foure thinges: first, thy selfe: nexte, those thinges that are vnder thee: then, those thinges that are aboute thee: and lastly, those thinges that are aboue thee. In considering thy selfe (saith he) thou must learne to knovve, What thou art: VVhoe thou art: and, VVhat manner of man thou art.

1 In considering What thou art, thou shalt find in Nature that thou art a man, that is Reasonable and Mortall: being Mortall, thou maiest be sorie: but beeing Reasonable, thou haste cause to mittigate thy so­rowe.

2 In the consideration of thy selfe VVho thou arte, thou must finde out the perfect foote-steppes of thy parentage, thy calling, and thy ha­bility.

3 In considering VVhat manner of man thou art, thou shalt seeke out thy naturall inclination, thy conditions, qualities, and the course of thy life. In this sorte doth Bernard beginne a briefe, apte, and an excellent entraunce into the most profitable pointes of Consideration. First, hee beginneth vvith that pointe of Consideration vvhich concerneth the Knowledge of thy selfe, being the beginning of all true knowledge, and with­out this no knowledge or consideration can profit thee, be it of matters never so exquisite, or of mysteries never so high. For as it doth concerne every man to learne what is done at home, before hee goe abroad: so doth it behoue him to knovve himselfe, before hee looke into others. It is true that many men seeme to knovve many thinges, and yet, not knowing themselues, they knovve nothing at all: or at least, they knovve nothinge in that, which doth most availe them.

Concerning these circumstances of Consideration, Chryso­stome goeth somewhat farther in wordes, though not much far­ther in effect, then Bernard doth. He saith, that it doth behooue euerte vvise man to consider vvhat himselfe is, vvhat is vvith­in him, vvhat is belovve him, vvhat is aboue him, vvhat is against him, what is before him, and what is after him: all which Considerations (saith Chrysostome) bring forth a fowre-folde fruite: as; Profite to thy selfe, Charity tovvardes thy neighbours, Contempt of the worlde, and the loue of God. This division though it differ some what in wordes from the former, yet it is the same in sub­stance and effect.

CHAP. 4. The Consideration of thy selfe what thou are in thy Creation.

IT is necessary to prosecute the first division of the pointes of Consideration, laid downe by Bernard, some what more par­ticularly then he did, because he applyed all his exhortations therein vnto the person and profession of Eugenius, then Pope of Rome, as particular instructions for his place & calling. Ther­fore it were not amisse in this our Consideration of humane cō ­dition, to amplifie somewhat on the condition of humane estate in generall, and of every kinde of estate in particular (as neere as we may) without offence of any, and yet for the instruction of all: observing still and strictly those members of division, which this learned Father hath laide down, to direct vs vnto the perfectest pointes of Consideration. To this purpose it beho­veth to begin with the Creation of man, wherein we may con­sider what he is: vvhereof, if any doe aske the Philosophers, they wil deliver divers contrary opinions: And to beginne with Anaximander hee alleadged, that man was first made of the earth and of vvater, vvhich tvvo Elements (as hee affirmed) were tempered and shaped vvith the heate of the sunne. Then Empedocles conceived that all the members of man vvere made [Page 11]of the earth, and that all the other Elements (as hee coniectu­red) did concurre to frame and fashion the same: as the fire to giue heate, the vvater to yeelde moisture, and the aire to sende spirit vnto the rest. But omitting all vaine coniectures, & such like fabulous inventions of Prometheus fire, Deucalions stones, vvhich the Poets fained to bee the causes, or the causers of mans Creation: let vs levell first (in the consideration of mans Crea­tion) vvith the more certaine groundes of Philosophy in this point, and then conclude with the vndoubted verity of the sa­cred history.

Some Philosophers doe define Creation to be a processe or a pro­gression from that which was not, to that which is: or else, from nothing, to something; when as yet there were no matter to bee presupposed out of which it might be made. This opinion, as it is contrary to that of other Philosophers, which said that,1. Phys. c. 4. Ex nihilo nihil fit; that is, of nothing, nothing is made: so it draweth nearest to the truth, and a­greeth best vvith the infallible authority of the holy Scripture, vvhich saith that the world was made of nothing, Gen. 1.1. Eccl. 10.9.12. Wisd. 11.14 by the word of the ever-living worde, vvithout any other foreknowne matter saue only Gods word, his vvill, and his vvisedome: and of this no­thing (made something) was man at the first created, as holy writte doth testifie: for hee was made of no other moulde then of the dust of the earth, a weake and slender beginning for a high and hauty minde, but most fit, to set forth the great might, of the almighty Creator.

CHAP. 5. The Consideration of thy selfe what thou art in thy Con­ception, and naturall Constitution.

THe next Consideration after thy Creation, is, the Consi­deration of thy Conception, and of thy naturall Procreation, and Constitution of body: wherein, if thou wilt know vvhat thou art: first consider that by the fall of thy first Parents (who were purely Created without any Corruption) their disobeying [Page 12]of their Creators commaundement, caused the curse to fall on them, & on their posterity: whereby not only they but, for their sake, the earth & all other creatures were subiect to the curse, so that of a pure Creation (by mans transgression) became an vn­pure Generation. And that thou maiest farther consider what thou art in this kind of generation (or as we cal it Conception) learne that generation is a beginning to be that, which it was not, but by vvay of mutation of one forme into another.

Now to come more neere vnto the Consideratiō of thy selfe what thou art in this thy Generatiō or Procreatiō; if one should aske thee, how thou wast conceived? and how thou camest into the world? thou wilt (it may be) answere, even as other men did, & do: I was begotten of my father, & borne of my mother. Yea but how is that? not to rip vp the secrets of nature (for that wold rather savour of immodesty, then farther thee in the due Consi­deration of thy selfe what thou art:) thou maist know that thou hadst but a meane beginning of Conception (be thy birth never so great) and know thou, that thou haddest no other meanes of Procreation, then the meanest man living, for thou wast (what­soeuer thou art) conceived without honour, delivered with vvo, & that with the great danger of her, that brought thee into the world: so that, though we omit the manner of thy first fourming in thy mothers womb (where of thou oughtest to take no pride) yet Plinie the most excellent naturall Philosopher,Plin. natur. hist. lib. 7. and most ex­quisite Secretary of natures workes, will tell thee; that beasts are not bound in chaines, when they are borne, but thou man art most vnhappily borne with thy hands and thy feete bound, be­ginning the world with punishment: O madnesse of man (saith he) thinking that of these beginnings he is borne to be prowde, when as the first hope of strength, and the first, gift of time maketh him like to a fowre feoted beast: for hee is forced on his armes and legges, being not other­wise able to stande or goe: This saith Plinie of thy birth. But if thou wilt enter farther into Consideration of thy naturall Constitutiō of body after thou art borne, thou shalt finde that as thou arte borne naked, so thou dost stil of thy selfe remaine naked, having by nature no other covering or any defense saue only thy bare [Page 13]body, but that thou dost borrow helps of other creatures, which thou accoumptest but as base and vile: for thou cloathest & kee­pest thy selfe warme with garmentes made of wooll, being but the covering of silly sheepe: with skinnes, the naturall garments of bruit beasts: thou deckest thy selfe with silke, being but the excrements of poore wormes; with flowres, being but the over­grovving of vvilde fields: vvith stones, being but the of-scow­ring of the earth, of the sea, and of rockes: all which the needy naked man doth borrow of beasts, and of other creatures, to co­ver, to maintaine, & to adorne his weake and al wanting body. But thou, not being content to vse the helpe of those naturall creatures for the supply of thy natural defects, dost yet therwith take occasion to grovv provvde; like the begger, vvho having borrowed a new coate, should therewith presently fal into liking of himselfe & scorne al the rest of his fellowe beggers. So doth the naked vnconsiderat man borrow of birds, feathers; of beasts, skins, wooll, vvith other coverings; of both birds and beasts, the flesh to feed him; he borroweth savours & ornaments of flowres; of fruits, sustenāce; of those things which come out of the earth, beauty &c. And having al these helpes not of himselfe, but of o­ther creatures, he vseth them as instrumēts to increase his pride, rather then to sustaine his necessities. This might serue in the Consideratiō of thy selfe, vvhat thou art according to thy natu­rall Constitution of birth and of body, to teach thee hovv vveake, and hovv vnprovided, how meane, and how needy thou art by na­ture: vvhereby thou maiest profitably learne humiliation, and to abate that provvde conceite, vvhich good successe and prospe­rity might plant in thee.

CHAP. 6. The Consideration of thy selfe what thou art in the fruition of this short and vncertaine life.

AFter thy birth & constitution of body, the Consideration of this lifes fruitiō craveth place: wherin if thou wilt know, what thou art, consider first how short this life is. Tou­ching [Page 14]this it is true, which one saith, that nothing doth deceiue men so much, as that they are ignorant how shorte a space they haue to liue, and therefore doe alwaies promise vnto themselues a longer time to liue. And as an vnseasonable yeare doth either parch the leaues of trees by reason of excessiue heate and drought, so that they wi­ther and fall away, or by extreame colde are consumed, or by blustering stormes are blowen of: so doth any extraordinary di­stemperature either of heate or colde, drynes or moisture de­stroy, or at the least indaunger the life of man. And if thou doubt heereof, the Physitions will tell their opinions plainely, that there are foure faculties by which the life of man is maintained, and that if any of these foure faculties doe misse his force and o­peration, then mans life presently perisheth. The first, is the Attractiue facultie, by which the nourishment is drawen into the partes nourished: that consisteth of heate and drines: and if any of these two doe abounde or be deficient, then presentely the Attractiue looseth his office, and the life of man is mightely indaungered.

2 The second faculty is the Retentiue,whereby the nourish­ment attracted is retained vntill it be digested: this consisteth of cold and drines; and if either of these qualities be not alwaies rightly proportioned, the Retentiue faculty faileth of his force, and then the life of man is likewise in perill.

3 The third is the Digestiue faculty,by which the attractiue and the retained nourishment is digested: this consisteth of heate and moisture, the which two qualities, if they be not well con­ditioned, then also the life of man cannot long continue.

4 The fourth is the Expulsiue faculty,by which all superfluities are eiected: this consisteth of colde and moisture, which if they be not moderately mixed, then the expulsiue faculty cannot per­forme his force, and so the excreaments which should be expel­led, doe turne into inward corruption, whereby the life of man is soone cut of.

Lastly if any of these foure faculties haue not his due effect, then the stomacke (in which is the Nutritiue appetite) doth de­cay: or the liueor, in which the subtile matter is seperated from [Page 15]the grosse, is defectiue: or the members to be nourished, are not nourished by way of the vaines, through the which humor and moisture are conveyed: or the arteries, by which the vitall spirites are led. In all this it doth appeare how shorte the life of man is, and how soone it is cut of by sicknesse, besides many o­ther (almost innumerable) meanes, which are instrumentes to shorten his life. If then there be so many meanes to indāmage and indaunger mans life, and so fewe to preserue it, howe can there be any reckoning made of the length of it? but that with the Princely Prophet and Propheticall Prince King David it may be deemed to be but as a spanne lōg; or,Psal. 59.6. Psal. 90.9. like to a tale which is told, and suddainly ended; to a bubble vpon the water soone broken; to a miste, which quickly vanisheth; to a shippe, which saileth so speedely, thaa it cannot be seene which way it wente; and to an arrow, or a birde flying in the aire. Many such sharpe similitudes haue beene set downe by them, that haue duly con­sidered the shortnes of mans life. And surely though some liue a little longer then other, and most men doe hope or at least de­sire to liue long: yet every man doth see that hee which liueth longest, doth but borrow (as it were) a small time of his fellowes, and in that little time, that he liueth longer then others, he still hasteneth vnto his end: for as a man, which is in a shippe sailing on the seas, whither he sitte, stande, or walke, the shippe still goeth on her way, and he that is in her, goeth with her: so man howsoever he be busied in this worlde, whether idle or occupi­ed, whether asleepe or awaking, time passeth away, and his life in, and with time, yea even in a moment of time is cutte of. For if the longest liuer in the world be asked how long he estee­meth the time, or how soone it is past since he was borne, hee will aunswere it seemeth vnto him but as yesterday: except it be one, whose life hath bene full of miseries, to him (perchaunce) every day will seeme a moonth, and every moonth a yeare,Psal. 90.10. and the time to longe that he hath liued, David the Prophet telleth vs that the age of man is three score yeares and ten, and if hee liue anie longer, it is rather to bee reckoned a vexation, then a life: this is a short time, for a man to liue no longer, and yet if every one might at­taine [Page 16]to these yeares, the life of man might be said to be of some length. But if it were possible to record the yeares of every man that dieth, we should finde in that large Register of mens liues, that where one man ariueth to the age of threescore yeares end ten, there are a hundreth which doe not see halfe so many: there dye many moe in their infancy, then in their ripe yeares; & moe in youth, then in olde age: all which sheweth how shorte this life is, and what thou art in the Fruition thereof. Adde vnto this the Vncertainty thereof, wherein thou maiest quickly conceiue how many and sundry sortes of casualties thy life is subiect vn­to, which makes that more vncertaine then the winde, that is, ever mutable and full of alteration. To confirme this, if wee should goe about to reckon how many instruments death hath to bring every mans life to an vnexpected end, the best memo­ry would rather faile to reckon vp the several engines that death vseth to destroy mans life withall, then that death would want meanes to worke a sodaine and an vncertaine end of mans life.

This may be prooved by diverse examples of men of all de­grees, sortes, and conditions, whoe in their best strength and chiefest time of their health and prosperity haue bene suddain­ly set vpon by the vncertaine executioners of death, when they least suspected them or thought thereof.Aul Ge Lib. 15. Cap. 20. As for example; The famous greeke Poet Euripides (being in good health) supped with Archelaus; after the which, as he returned home, when he thought himselfe least in daunger of death, he was sodainly, and that on a trice, torne to pieces with dogges and so founde by tri­all, how vncertaine this life is.

Caesar (who had past infinite perilles in the warres) was (by Brutus and Cassius) slaine suddainly in the Senate house,Plutarch. in vita C. Caesa­ris. where he thought his life to be most safe, and least suspected the daun­ger of death: so approuing (by his vntimely end) the vncertain­ty of every mans life. Q. Curtius writting the history of Alex­ander the great, reporteth that whē he had conquered the world and death to, as it seemed to himselfe, he was, comming to Ba­bylon, caught suddainly by death, and made to know and con­fesse that vncertaine is the life of man: though he were so great [Page 17]a monarch. T. Hostilius, the third King of Rome, Plutarch in vita Nu­mae. vvhen he sup­posed himselfe safest and freest from deathes darte, vvas strict­ken on the soddaine with a thunder bolte, and his house burn to ashes with the lightening. Tarquinius Prtscus also the 5. King of Rome was, sitting at dinner, (when he least dreamed of death) choaked with the boane of a fish, and died thereof that night: all which may well witnesse how shorte, and howe vncerteine the life of mā is.4 The Poets haue preatily fained that there are three sisters, whome Seneca called the Destinies, Cic. Lib. de natura deor. and Cicero supposed to be the daughters of Herebus and Nox, whome they affirme to be very much busied about the life of man: their names are Clotho, Clotho colū gestat, Lachesis irahit, Atropos occai. Lachesis, and Atropos: the first doth weaue the threede of life, the second doth lengthen it a little, and the last doth cleane cut it of: but the last of the three hath the quickest hande in her woorkes; for vvhat the other two doe frame for a time, that she doth vndoe in the moment of time: and the threede of life, though it should bee somewhat longe in spinning, yet it is cut of in the twinckling of an eie, and vvhen vve thinke it is stron. gest, then commeth Atropos vnawares to perfourme and playe her parte. Death hath also three principall servauntes, vvhich he imployeth much, and often about this busines, and they as diligently put in execution and perfourme what he commaun­deth for the shortening and soone cutting of, of the life of man, vvhose names (as casualty, infirmity, and olde age) gaue suf­ficient proofe and testimony that shorte oftentimes, and most vncertaine is the life of man, & what accoumpt we should make of it, and what man is in the fruition thereof.

CHAP. 7. The Consideration vvhat thou art in the frui­tion of so painfull a life.

THis Consideratiō concerning mans life, is of the grievous paines & miserable torments, which very often and most commonly do accompany thy selfe: as, Sicknes in thy body, [Page 18]Sorovves and passions of the minds, the Vakndnesse of friendes, the Envie of enemies, the Deceipte of flatterers, and other vvorldely Mishappes, vvhich breede such multitudes of miseries, as are almost vnpossible to bee named, and very harde and pain­full with patience to be endured.

And first for the grievous paines that Sicknesse breedeth and bringeth vnto the body, we see, and daily experience telleth vs, that many men are so tormented therewith, that their whole life from the cradle to the graue is but the drawing of an ever­fainting breath, and (as it were) a lingring death, or rather a painfull life, more grievous then death it selfe. As the fish Clupea (which when the moone increaseth, is white, and when it doth decrease, becommeth blacke, grovving to any great­nesse, killeth himselfe for the paines of those prickles, that come out of his owne sides; so men possessed and payed with sicknes doe chaunge both colour and complexion as Clupea doth, or as the moone waxeth and waneth: and vvhen they grovv to any yeares, the prickles of their paines is the cause of their death. If vve shoulde seeke for examples to shewe how that many men haue beene mightily tormented with sicknesse, vve might easily find & see an endles sea of instaunces to confirme this conclusion, wherein we vvill not wade much to wearie the Reader, but rather referre him to consider of the cruell experiment that poore miserable men doe make thereof, who pining with continuall sicknesse languish all their liues long from their mothers breastes till they bee borne of foure, and brought to their last and longe home: onely, and for a taste herein, I will set before him a fevve (of many) such examples as the holy scriptures offer vnto vs. Mephibosheth the sonne of Ionathan, 2. Sam 4.4. Math. 9. the sonne of Saule, was lame of both his legges, and ledde a lingring languishing life all his daies. Iïrus daughter vvasted vvith sicknesse, and the vvoman of Canaans daughter vexed with a Devill, had ended their daies vvith dolour and griefe, if CHRIST, at the humble suite and petition of their parentes,Mar. 5. had not shewed mercy vnto both. Marke maketh mention of a miserable vvoman, vvhose body with [Page 19]sickenesse vvas vvonderfully vveakened, and vvhose wealth vvith Phisitians vvas vvasted, her issue of blood continually increasing, so that in twealue yeares she never had ease one day. What what shall I speake of that woman, whome her infirmities had bowed togeather? and of whome Christ saide,Luc. 13. that Satan had bounde her for eighteene yeares.Ioh. 5.1. The poore man that laye at the poole of Bethesda keapt his bedde eight and thirty yeares not able to helpe himselfe till Christ healped him. The same vvas the state of Agbarus King of Edessa, Euseb. Lih. 1. Cap. 14. of vvhome Eusebius maketh mention: it vvere to longe, and an infinite laboure for me to lay dovvne all that might be remembred to this pur­pose: let him that would knowe more, aske the Phisitian how many sundry sortes of diseases he seemeth to knovve, though he seldome cureth most of them, all which are ordained for the punishment of sinners,Iob. 1. and are inflicted vpon miserable men in all ages. Onely I will ende with poore and patient Iob whose life during his triall was much more grievous then death, whose children were destroyed suddainly, whose, goods were taken from him violently, whose body was diseased straungly, whose wife vpbraided him wickedly, whose friends rebuked him sharp­ly; what greater Crosse could be laid on man? bereast of childrē,chap. 2. spoiled of goods, abused by his wife, condemned by his friends, sore in body, sicke in mind, what misery may be compared here with? was it any marvaile that he desired his death,Cap. 10.18. or rather that he had never beene borne?

Now, how painfull the life of man is, which is subiect vnto so much sorow, we may perceiue it by the visage, and see it in the estate of their bodies who are overwhealmed therewith. For most commonly their bones are dried vp, and their bodies ther by made like vnto an anatomy: whereof grewe that olde Adage, vvhich adviseth a man not to eate vp his hearte, signifying that such as are troubled vvith much sorovve, consume avvay, even as if they had eaten vp their owne heartes, and end their liues with supping vp that sowre potion. Hovv pain­full mans life is, that is possessed vvith sorovve, may well bee perceiued, and that everie man hath his parte [Page 20]thereof, is pregnant to be proued, for that is true which the Poet testifieth thereof, speaking to man thus:

that is,

These verses doe well declare hovv that mans life is full fraught with cares & sorrowes. Care men haue to preuent perils as they are comming towardes them, and they sorrow when they see that they cannot overcome those, which are already befallen them: so that sorrow sitteth (as it were) on euery side, and at e­very hand, before and behinde man; whereby his life is enviro­ned with perpetuall paines.

And as for the paines, or deadly tormentes rather, that by meanes of externall evils (as, the vnkindnesse of friendes, the envie of enemies, and, the deceipte of flatterers) doe inseparably accompa­ny mans life, they are to too well knowne to euery man both in their owne particular experience, and also in the examples of o­thers. For the first, it is most true, and not doubted of by any, that the greatest calamity that can happen to a man, and may most grieue & molest a faithful friend, is to be vnfaithfully dealt withall by him, whom he accompted and esteemed for his best friend: this made the poore Poet thus pittifully to complaine of his friendes vnfaithfulnesse,

that is,

By this it shoulde seeme that the poore miserable banished Poet felte nothing more grievous amiddest all his miseries in his exile, then the deceipte of his reputed friende: vvhereby also this is made manifeste, that greate is the griefe, and much is the paine that falshoode in friendshippe procureth a man.

The painefull tormente that an envious enemy worketh a man is little inferiour, nay rather it equalleth the former. For this ad­versary, set on rage, and inflamed vvith ire,T. Liuius. is resolued (as an vnextinguishable fire) to consume the life, the honour and the whole estate of him that is envied: and vvho is hee that is truely vertuous vvhich is not subiect to envies iavves?Val. Max. Lib 4. Tit. de amicit. Xen. in Paed. Cyri. l. i. And as Xenophon saith, hee is in verie evill case whome no man envieth: nei­ther coulde hee in his daies remember any vertuous man that was not cruelly stunge vvith this poysoned and most venemous serpent: vvhereby wee may vvell note hovve that mans life is much tormented with envie.

Lastly, of the deceite of flatterers, hew farre forth it tormenteth mans minde, this at the first is not seene of most men, but ly­eth hidde as a padde in the stravve. For the flatterer cove­reth his knavery vvith the cloake of good counsell; and shaddovveth his subtile devise by soothing and smoothing of him, vvhome hee is aboute to deceiue, euermore pray­sing and commending his actions, howe euill soeuer; and dis­praising the vvorkes and deedes of others, hovve good soeuer; as hee findeth his humor, and may best feede the fantasie of him that he followeth, vntill hee haue vvonne him to vvorke his owne woe, and in the end brought him to the deepe dun­geon of vtter destruction: then (but commonly to late) men repent them that euer they knewe such companions: and are vveary of them, when they perceiue howe that they haue broughte them sorrowe, shame, and confusion, to vexe, grieue and torment their mindes continually and as long as they haue daies to liue: neither is this the least adversary, though last set downe heere, that troubleth and disquieteth the life of man.

By these and such other meanes, more then can vvell be ma­nifested, to mans life (fraught with anguish and paine) is made so loathsome vnto himselfe,1. Kin. 19.4. that vvho is he vvhich with Elyas doth not wish to die, & confesse that he is not better then his fathers: whose bodies be at rest, as he vvould be? and saith not vvith Paule: Cupio dissolui, Phil. 1.23. & esse cum Christo, I desire to be dissolved and to be vvith Christ? For that vvere to a Christian heart advantage in deed. By the rules of Christianity vvee should learne truely to be contented vvith all crosses and calamities vvhich happen vn­to vs in the course of this life; yet our natural corruption is such, as it vvill not suffer vs to indure troubles vvith patience. This, that hath beene said, may in some sort suffice to shevv (though not fully and perfectly) hovv paineful, hovv tormenting, and hovv ful of cares the course of this life is: & serveth fitly to stirre and mooue thee to consider and vveigh vvell vvith thy selfe vvhat thou art in enioying of so short, so vncertaine, & so paine­full a life, as this is.

CHAP. 8. The Consideration what thou arte in thy death, and manner of dying.

THe last Consideration of this first part, is; concerning thy death: vve meane not here to discourse, but cursorilie, of the difference betvveene corporall and spirituall, temporall and eternall death, best beseeming the pens and paines of great and graue Divines, but only to speake of the death of the body most familiar and best knowne to all men. It is an old saying & very true: that as sure as man is borne, so sure he is to die. Some said that death is three folde, but rather might haue said, and that more soundly, and more truely, that it hath three degrees: the first Naturall, the second Criminall, the thirde Iudiciall. For the first, vvhich is Naturall or the dissolution of nature, this (as is said before) as it is common to all men, and no man is exempted from it, so it hath in it many things seeming very fearefull, and [Page 23]procuring much amazement, vvhich yet ought not to bee fea­red at all: as vvhen death dravveth neere (sending before him his habinger Sicknes) he presenteth vnto the sicke man a gast­full countenance, and leane bones vvithout flesh: yea hee doth offer to his remembraunce the losse of all his goods and honors, his departure from his friendes, the sequestring of his soule from his body, and the seperating of himselfe from the vvorld & from all things in the vvorld, hovv deare and delightfull soeuer vnto him: vvhereby the senses are all over-loaden and burthened vvith sorrovv; according to the saying of the Poet:

that is,

All vvhich, behelde of the meere naturall man in the grimme visage of death (as it vvere in a looking glasse) seeme very dread full; but of these chiefely, the loue of this life maketh him most of all to feare death, and yet to him that is truly vvise the sadde sight of death yeeldeth no such hideous aspect or discontent­ment, but rather mooueth him to remember and make good vse of that excellent saying of Seneca: Sen. epist. 62. Before olde age I had care to liue vvell, that I might in olde age die well, that is vvillingly. For to die vvillingly, is to die vvell: vvhich if a man vvould consider and put in practise, then needed he not to feare this naturall death of the body. Full vvell said the Heathen Philosopher,Cice. in som Scip. that vn­lesse God should free man from the keepers (or from that pri­son) of the body, there could be no passage into heauē. Though death doe dissolue this temporall and momentary life frō the body; yet if a good death follow a good life, it addeth a longer life vnto this temporall and transitory life, and it taketh away all cares and calamities from the body and life of man, in so much that such a death may aptly be called the end of labours, the conservation of victory, the gates of life, and the entraunce into euerlasting felicity. Thus may the vertuous, discreete, and con­siderate man learne to know what he is concerning the first de­gree of death, vvhich we cal naturall, or the dissolution of nature. [Page 24]As touching the second degree of death, vvhich vvee call Cri­minall, or the death of offence, this vnto many men seemeth no­thing fearfull, although it ought more to bee feared then the first. The first degree of Naturall death every man must yeelde vnto, and paye vndoubtedly as a due debte to Nature, or ra­ther to the Creator of Natures vvorkes: but the seconde de­gree of death, vvhich is the death of offence, as it begonne and brought in that first death vvhich vvee tearme Naturall; so is it, or it ought to be much more feared then the same. For one of the Fathers saith,Aug. sup. Gen. that Adam and Eue beganne to dye in the same day that they did receiue the lavve of death; that is vvhen they offended first, and that by one mans offence, death came vnto all men. This death of offence vvhich is cause first of the Naturall, then of the Iudiciall death, ought there­fore most of all to be feared; yet wee see, and that to to com­monly, hovve men make small reckoning of this death and doe least dreade it, else vvoulde they not be so proane and ready to runne on head-long, and to committe those offences, that doe procure death, and perpetuall destruction. This death of offence, or the offence it selfe, vvhich causeth death, ought to be very much feared. For though men, while they liue, doe lightly and little regard it; yet it bringeth with it to torment them (vvhen they are a dying) shame horrour and confusi­on.

3 The last degree of death,or the last effect of it, is the death of Iudgment: this hath three stepps or staires by which it mount­eth either to eternal happines, or else descendeth vnto endlesse paines and torments. For Iudgment is saide to be of three sortes:1 the first is of our selues; 2 the seconde is of men; 3 and the third is of, or, by the Creator of man. For the first Iudgment of our selues concerning our deathes and of our desertes of death, this is invvarde and contained in the Conscience of everie man, vvhich Conscience vvhen it giueth iudgment against a man, it makes him feele the paines of death in life, and it figu­reth vnto him the perpetuall paines vvhich he shall endure after death. [Page 25]An heathen Philosopher could say that a guilty conscience is like to an vlcer in the body. Plut de animi tran­quillitate. For it leaueth sorrowe and griefe wounding him and feastering in his heart and minde continually. When reason can relieue the minde moued otherwise to sadnesse, no­thing can ease the galling and torture of a guilty Conscience;Ovid lib 1. de Ponto Eleg. 1. which caused the comfortlesse Poet to confesse and say:

that is,

Therefore this Iudgment of our selues in our owne consciences, that we haue not onely deserued this temporall but an eternall death, is (without it be eased by perfect Penitence) a double death vnto vs.

2 The second steppe of ludgment, is the Iudgement of men: whereon death also doth depend. As the iudgmēt of our selues is internall, and in our owne consciences: so the iudgment of men is externall, depending vpon exteriour proofes & probabilities, whereby they giue their iudgment of life and death. And al­though that the iudgment of men, be not alvvaies true in their difinitiue sentence, and decree of men, howe they haue deser­ved either to liue or dye; because that they which are the ludges, whither with authority or without, may mistake the lawes by the which they iudge: or else those, that produce proofes vnto them, may either wilfully or ignorantly misinforme and mis­guide them: yet it behoueth every wise man discreetly to sub­mitte himselfe vnto that sentence of the Law, which limitteth vnto him either life or death.Demosth. Con And For as the excellent Orator affir­med, it is not lawfull to maligne magistrates though they be wicked & evill: the reason thereof is, because that they, vvhen they do giue iudgment of life and death, are the substitutes of him, [Page 26]vvho is the author of life and death. And, if thou vvilt dye vvell, avoide and eschevve all evill deedes, vvhich are the occasions of this iudgement of men, vvhich deeme and iudge thee worthy of death. For this iudgment of death doth com­monly follow the evill actions of a badde life.

3 The last steppe, in the last degree of death, vvhich is called the finall Iudgment, followeth death, at the latter daic, vvhen the vniversall iudgment of mankinde shall bee, and either eternall life or eternall death insueth. Of this I pur­pose to speake but as an occurrent by the vvay. Then shall bee the beginning of glory to the good, and to the vvic­ked of shame and confusion: then shall bee the seperation of the sheepe from the goates, of the corne from the cockle; and of the blessed from the accursed. After this, then they, that receiue the sentence of life, shall never dye or feare death any more: and those, vvhich are appointed to dye, can never hope for life againe: whatsoever some men haue dreamed of this matter, whereof we purpose not heere to intreate. This last degree of death, or difference betweene life and death, hath in it either much feare or much ioy: feare to the wicked in respect of former offences, but ioy vnto the faithfull in their hope of enioying future happinesse, which followeth after a vertu­ous life and a godly end.Lactan. in divinis inst. Lib. 6. cap. 4 And as Lactantius alleadgeth: if it be asked of vs, vvhyther death bee good or evill, vvee must aun­svvere, that this or that mans death is good or bad, as his life was either good or bad vvhich hee had lead before. For if thy life be good, then vvill thy death also be good vnto thee: but if thy life be e­vill, then likewise is death evill vnto thee.

The Conclusion of this first parte of the first pointe of Considera­tion concerning thy selfe, Ʋ Ʋhat then arte.

BY this litle touch or light handling of Consideration, herein (gentle Reader) tendered vnto thee, (if thou hast read over the same with good regarde) thou maiest thereby make some triall concerning the knovvledge of thy selfe, what thou [Page 27]arte in thy Creation, in thy Procreation and byr the, in thy Life, and in thy Death. All which, if thou doe well and advisedly consider, thou shalt finde that to be true,Bernardus. in senten which Bernard affir­meth, that man is sicke of a threefolde malady; in the begin­ning, in the middle, and in the ending; that is, in his birth, in his life, and in his death. For his birth is vnpure, his life is perverse, & his death daungerous. His birth it is vnpure, by reason of our first parents fall, and the daily offences of our naturall parents,Psal. 51.5. which mooued the Psalmist (well weighing it) to say that in sinne hee vvas conceiued. His life is perverse, because that by nature he is proane to all evill actions. His death is daungerous, because his life is vitious. There is in our birthe, a beginning of sorrowe: there is in our liues, a continuance of the same: & there is in our deathes, either a dissolution, or else a perpetuall possession thereof.

The end of the first Section of the first parte of Consideration.

CHAP. 1. The Consideration of thy selfe, who thou art.

NOw having said somewhat concerning the first part of the first point of the Cō ­sideration of thy selfe, which is, What thou art: it is necessary that we proceed. farther to the seconde part of this first point of Consideration; which is, Who thou art. The Consideration whereof doth containe in it the remembrance & reknowledgement of thy parentage, li­nage, and descent: the knowledge of thy state of body, of thy vvealth, calling, dignity and wisedome. To the goodnesse and greatnesse of which giftes the Philosophers in former times haue attribured a great part of mās felicity; 1 calling Riches, Nobi­lity, & Honors, the goods of fortune; 2 Health, Strēgth & Beauty, they tearmed the goods of the body; 3 Wisedome, Learning and Vertue they esteemed to be the goods of the Minde.

By the true Consideration of thy selfe, vvho thou art in the possession of these blessings, thou maiest learne to know, that if thou haue any, or all of them, thou art yet no otherwise happy in them, then according as thou doest vse them: for if it be true, that there is a difference betweene vsing and enjoying of thinges; in that wee are saide properly to vse onely those thinges that are temporall;Pet. Lumb. Lib. 1. and to emote those thinges that are eternall: thou maiest consider that thy parentage, thy health, thy digni­ties, & thy wisdome being things tēporal & transitory, are then only to be vsed of thee here for a time, & that but for very short time; for thou maist by no means enioy thē alwaies. This, wel pō ­dered & thought vpon, will soone bring thee to the knowledge [Page 29]of thy selfe, Who thou art. For there is nothing that letteth and hindereth a man more from the knowledge of himselfe, then the opinion and fonde conceipte he hath of the goodnes, great­nes, and durablenesse of those worldly blessings, which he doth possesse, and so entirely affect. Therefore to vveede out the over-weening opinion thereof, vvee vvill first beginne with thy linage and parentage, and so bring thee by little and lit­tle into the consideration of thy selfe, vvho thou art. Art thou descended of a noble family, or of a base linage? if thou be noble borne, then commonly pride and presumption catch holde and lay such violent handes on thy vvill, thy affection, and thy vnderstanding, that they can hardlie bee remooued from thee, till they haue remooued thee from the knowledge of thy selfe, who thou art. For thy presumptuous pride and selfe­liking affection will make thee beleeue that thou art much better, then indeed thou art. This makes men many times to measure their owne greatnes of birth as they doe their sha­dowes, vvhich alwaies seeme bigger then their bodies, and by degree it draweth them to beleeue that their birth and pa­rentages are farre better then the birthes and parentages of a­ny others are, or may be.

Q. Curt.As, Alexander the great, after he had obtained many & no­table victories, could not then be cōtented to be called any lon­ger the sonne of Philip King of Macedon, but vvould needs bee accompted the sonne of Iupiter Hammon, and so be dee­med to haue beene descended from the Gods. Sabor King of Persia called himselfe King of Kings, partaker of the planets, Herodotus Lib. 2. H and, brother to the Sunne and Moone. Hanno the Carthaginian caused birdes to bee taken, and taught to say, Hanno is a God: which birdes were afterwarde cast abroade in diverse places, that they might publish this his feined Deitie vnto the peo­ple.

Even so commonly wee see that many of noble birthe and greate parentage persvvade themselues that they exceede all others in estimation of bloode and linage: vvhereas they mighte consider vvith themselues that howe noblye soeuer [Page 30]they are borne, their Nobility hath a beginning, not by their own, but by their Auncestors deserts & vertues; wherfore if that there be not in them good partes and properties aunswereable to the behaviour and good qualities of their Elders, and their owne birthes, then are they but a blemish to their Elders, and a staine to their names, and honors. VVe see the fairest and rich­est silkes, when once they receiue any blemish or staine, they are more disfigured and in greater disgrace then cloath, or other matter of lesse moment and reckoning: even so is it in the esti­mation of Nobility. For a fault in a man of great birth and parentage is more noted, and breedeth vnto him greater disgrace and dishonour, then the same should do vnto a man of lesse and low­er dignity. It is not inough to be borne of high bloude, without vertue aunswerable to that birth: neither with reason may a noble man, because he is honourably descended, challendge loue, estimation, and honour of the actions accomplished by his Auncestors, vnlesse his owne carriage be correspondent & aun­swerable to theirs,Sen. in Here. fur. and to his owne calling: for Seneca sayeth, & that very truely, that, bee vvhich braggeth of his kindred, commen­deth that which concerneth others. Ovid. lib. 13. Meta. And the Poet speaking to the same purpose saide very well.

This caused a Gentle man of great worth and worthines,S. Philip Sidney. as any that hath liued in our age, to adde this mote vnderneath his coate of armes: Ʋix ea nostra voco. VVho although hee might most deseruedly haue claimed vnto himselfe as much honor as ever any of his Auncestors haue had, yet he would not appro­priate their vertues (which could not be called his) vnto him­selfe: for he had rather gaine glory by his owne noble and worthy actes, then be accoumpted renowmed for the greatnes of [Page 31]his Auncestors, how neere and how deere soever vnto him. As his noble minde is worthy of memory in all ages, and his heroi­call actes never to be committed to oblivion: so are they (which degenerate from their Elders, or doe disgrace and dishonor the honourable actions of their Auncestors) to be accoumpted wor­thy (if not of all shame) yet of a place in Lethes lake to lye in per­petually. Q. Pompeius Pretor of Rome did most stoutely and wisely carry himselfe, when he did interdict and dishinherite the sonne of Q. Fabius Max. from the vse and benefit of all his fa­thers goods, because he did degenerate from the vertues of his noble father, and spent that most luxuriously, which his father had most honorably gotten. There was a law amongst the Rhodians, that what sonne soever followed not the foot-steps of their fathers vertues should be dishinherited: which lawe if it were kept, & did continue in force amongst vs this day, it would make many a sonne goe without goods, and leaue his fathers liuing for others to inherite. For out daies make experience of that, which the Poet spake, and applied to former ages.

Now againe on the other side, if thy birth and parentage bee meane, then most commonly art thou drawen to despaire of ha­ving any great advauncemēt, although thou doe deserue it wel: for Envy alwaies followeth Vertue, and that most of all, when it is placed in one of meane Parentage. For vsually those, that hold themselues better in birth, will contemne and envy their inferi­ours in bloud, although they bee farre theyr superiours in ver­tue and desearte. But this shoulde not dismaye him that deser­veth well, to expect the rewarde of his desertes, how meane so­ever [Page 32]ever his birth be. For we finde it in experience true, and the ex­amples are infinite, how men, whose parentes vvere meane and poore, haue (for good partes in them) bene preferred to very high and great dignity. As David, a shepheard, yet after­wardes annoynted King of Israel.Psal. 78. Tamberlane the son of a poore shephearde in Scythia, and, as some say, a shephearde him­selfe, by his valoure and prowesse became King of Persia, and was a very mighty Monarch. The father of Sforce Duke of Mil­laine was a poore man, who liued by husbandrie in Catiniola, a small towne or village situate neere vnto Ravenna: and yet his sonne for his worth and worthynes so highly advaunced to so great a dignity. Many examples might be brought to the same purpose, of such as in former times, yea and in this latter & more vngratefull age of the world haue gotten by their vertues great preferments & high advauncements, though their births haue bene but very base: of whome we omitte further to speake, be­cause we purpose not to disgrace or offend any, but rather to commend vertue, and to wish the advauncement thereof in al. Yet by the way of advice we could wish such as be of meane pa­rentage, & so preferred to high places, to beware of al swelling conceipte of pride, which to to often hath infected many.

And so if the noble borne haue care of his cariage, & avoide presumption in the estimation of his honourable descent: & the meane man shun dispaire or doubt of obteining advauncement by reason of his birth, and to lofty a conceipt in his prosperous estate, then shall either of them consider well and wisely who, and what he is in his descent, and by his parentage.

CHAP. 2. The Consideration of thy selfe, vvho thou arte in the state of thy body.

THE next Consideration is of thy selfe vvho thou arte in the state of thy bodie: wherein consisteth the estimation of thy health, of thy strength and of thy beauty: in con­sidering [Page 33]whereof thou shalt finde who thou arte in possessing health or sicknesse, strength or weaknes, beauty or deformity, wherein if Nature hath bestovved on thee her giftes liberally and friendlie, shee giveth thee no better gifte then the Poets faine that Paris gaue to Ʋenus, or the revvarde that hee received of her againe. For vvhen shee stroue with Iuno and Pallas for the golden ball, vvhich was to be given to her whom Paris deemed fairest of the three; Paris bestowed the ball on Ʋenus, and vvith al continuall contention with the other twaine: and she rewarded him againe with Helen which was his vtter confusion. This fable was not devised without very good signification and a certaine morall or meaning, vvhat mo­lestations many times follovve the friendly course of Nature in them, that are healthy, strong, and beautifull in body. For if thou hast thy health, then thou art commonly carelesse of thy diet, and so fallest oft to surfette, or else to vse some such exercise. as may indaunger thy health. For hee that doubteth not of his health, dare eate of manie dishes, and (as Seneca saith) eating of many meates bringes many diseases: Sen. ad Luc. Ep. 99 Jd [...]m, Rhet. 10. and in an an other place, vvhatsoever (saith he) birdes doe flie, or fishes svvimme, or beastes doe runne, they are buried in our bellies. If thou aske (saith he) vvhy vvee dye so suddainely? it is because vvee liue by the death of so many creatures: and they that haue most strength, are most boldest to devoure most creatures, whereby most commonly they abate their health, and consume that vvhich they woulde fainest pamper and feede, even their bodies. The exercises also, vvhich strong bodyed men are most giuen vnto, doe withdraw many times to to many of such, from the better exercises of the minde. For seldome is it seene, that men of much might are much giuen to the study of liberal sciēces, or the meditation of divine things: which moued Xenocrates to exhort men that they should not ex­ercise the body much without the minde, nor the minde alto­gether without the body; for the first best beseemeth wrastlers and such rude people; the second belongeth vnto Idle persons; the first breedeth strōg & sturdy ignoraūce; the secōd begetteth [Page 34]studious dulnesse: but they that are apt and fit for best things, are indifferently exercised in both body and minde. For those men, that haue stronge bodies, for the most part haue weake mindes, because they so much exercise the strength of their bodyes, that they seldome or never regarde the study of the minde:Sen. ep. 81. hovve vveake, sayeth Seneca, are they in minde, vvhose strength of body vvee doe much marvaile at? so that naturall strength draweth on vnnaturall effectes, and de­fectes of thinges most to bee desired to bee in men. If thou haue also beauty and comelinesse of body, this blessing eft­soones maketh thee in the enioying thereof many times misera­ble and infortunate. For it maketh provvde such as enioy it, and provoketh others to vnlawfull lustes and vvicked desires, coveting the accomplishment of their fleshly appetites, and sensuall pleasures, through the abuse of others beauty, which is the nourisher and procurer of pride, as the Poet telleth thee, when he saith:

It is to often tryed, that they, vvhich are by nature beautiful, make their external beauty of the body to be the betraier of the inwarde beauty of the minde: vvhereby vve see what inconve­niences doe follovve the health, strength, and beauty of the body.

Novv contraryvvise, if thou art either naturally subiect to sicknesse, or accidentally weake; if thou art by nature, or by casualty deformed, vvhat anguish, griefe, and tormentes of minde these defectes and blemishes doe bring vvith them, eve­ry one either feeleth and findeth in himselfe, or at the least may see and perceiue it in others. Therefore to temper those intemperate affections, which vsually abounde in such as abuse the blessings of the body: and also to avoide the inconveni­ences, which doe pursue the vvants of those naturall blessings of the body, thou oughtest to conssider, that if the Creator of [Page 35]natures vvroks hath bestowed the blessinges of health, strength, and beauty vppon thee, that hee bestowed not them to that ende vpon thee, that thou shouldest grovv provvde of them, or abuse thy body, or devise hovve to make others enamored vvith thy beauty, and the rather for it vnlavvfully to desire thee. For thou haste receiued these svveete blessings to ano­ther ende: euen that to the ablenesse of thy body thou shoul­dest ioine the vvillingnes of thy minde, to doe those comely and commendable deedes, vvhich doe beautifie both the bo­dy and the minde, and vvhich last longer then the soone-fa­ding blossomes of beauty, the vveake and ever-slyding staffe of strength, and then thy health, vvhich is more vncer­taine then all the rest; for it is soone impaired and very quick­ly brought to vtter decaye. If then thy beauty fade, thy strength faile, and thy health consume and weare away; dis­may not thy selfe, but rather bee armed vvith patience. For as long as the minde is indued vvith reason, and good resolution, no sicknesse or afflictions can bring the body so vveake, or so out of shape, but that a minde prepared vvith patience and di­rected by vertue may very vvell indure. Infirmities may bee a meane to subdue, or at least to mooue vs to sustaine stoutly all dislikes and discontentmentes of such defects and effects in na­ture. VVhich Consideration (vvith the circumstaunces of the same) concerning thy health and sicknesse, thy strength and vveakenesse, thy beauty and deformity if thou beare al­vvaies in thy minde, and make good vse thereof, thou shalt con­sider of thy selfe aright, and soone knovve what, and who thou arte in the state of thy body.

CHAP. 3. The Consideration of thy selfe vvhat, and vvho thou art in the state of thy vvealth and riches.

THe Consideration of thy vvealth & riches doth containe two circumstaunces to be conceived of thee, and to be ca­ried continually in thy remembrance. The first is of thy wealth and possessions, hovve thou haste gotten them: the se­conde is, hovv thou doest vse them. For by these two courses of getting & vsing thy wealth & goods, they are made either good or evill vnto thee. Sometimes men doe get their goods vvell, by honest and lavvfull meanes, yet may they vse them evill: but they doe seldome, or almost neuer, that get their goods by evill meanes, turne their goods so gotten vnto good vses.

Now first, for the obtaining and getting of riches vvhither it be by lawful, or by vnlawfull meanes: it is to be considered that if thou haste riches, landes, or any kinde of liuelyhood, thou hast either gotten it by inheritance, by gift, or by thine owne indu­stry. If thy goods and possessions come vnto thee by inheri­taunce, and that thou haste sufficient by thine auncestors to mainetaine thy estate, then, the more thou hast the lesse shoulde bee thy care and toyle in travailing to augment thine aboundaunce, seeing that by inheritaunce thou haste suffici­ent to sustaine necessity, and to mainetaine thy calling: and yet this competency shoulde not breede a carelesnesse in thee to preserue that vnto thy posterity, vvhich thy prede­cessours carefully procured for thee. But such commonly is the condition of mans nature, that hee alvvaies doeth desire an alteration of his estate, vvhich maketh him, that hath greate possessions left him by his parentes (not knowing or considering vvhat paines they vsed in the obtaining of it) to bee carelesse hovve hee consumeth it: hee having no expe­rience hovve hardly it vvas had at the first, foreseeth not hovve vneasily it is recovered vvhen it is gone, or vvhat the lacke and losse of it is, vvhen it is mispent. VVe see ma­ny times that a prodigall sonne succeedeth a miserable father: vvho, vvhen hee commeth to plenty (not by his ovvne, but by his parentes industrie) neuer ceaseth to seeke meane, to spende that vvhich others haue gotten for him, being drawne by delighte to lavish in expences, vvith a vaine opinion of [Page 37]getting fame, and procuring friendes, or other prefermentes by his liberalitie, as hee thinketh; but more truelie by his prodigalitie, as others doe thinke, and as himselfe shall finde vvhen all is gone, and vvhen it is to late to grovve thriftie. The reason of this is, that thinges vvhich are hardly had, are sought vvith greatest desire, and kepte vvith greatest care: and on the contrary side, vve commonly see that when vvealth or almost any other vvorldly benefite is bestowed on men freely, or that they obtaine it vvithout any great labour or difficultie, they then least esteeme it, and are soonest vvonne to departe from it. Therefore to shunne both these extremities of prodigality, and misery, in administring and bestowing of thy goods and possessions, vvhich come to thee by inheritance, vse this mediocrity, that plenty make thee not prodigall, nor poverty cause thee to be miserable: the meane in this, as in other thinges (though it be harde to attaine vnto) is the safest and the profitablest course, when it may be compas­sed and well kept: as the Poet saith.

which is,

Then if a man grovv to wealth, or great living by other mens gifts, such as were not his parents, or from whom he coulde not expect the same as an hereditary right; which happeneth diverse times vnlooked for to many: wealth so obtained, worketh like effect as that doth, which is had by inheritaunce; that is, it maketh him that commeth so sodainely and vvith so small travaile to his aboundaunce, to take the lesse care in kee­ping of it, or in spending it vvell; for such a one commonly wil verifie the old proverbe, which saith, light come, light go: So did Caius Caligula, who consumed great treasures gathered togither [Page 38]by Tiberius the Emperour. For it is reported of him, that he spent seavē-score thousand Sestertia in one yeare. So did Cleopatra the last Queene of Aegypt, who at a supper, which she made to M. Antonius, putting an excellent pearle into tarte vineger, wherein being resolued, dranke it, being esteemed at Centies Se­steria which is of our money 50000.^li.

Many such we haue in these our daies bearing the like prodi­gall mindes, though they haue not the like meanes and abilitie: who are as ready to spend all their wealth, whither by gifte or by inheritance, yea and that as vainely as Heliogabalus, by wearing of precious stones in their shoes: or as Caesar the sonne of Pope Alexander the sixt, who spent every day two hundred crownes in banquetting, maintained a multitude of parasites, whome he fed and apparelled on his owne proper cost, and keapt in pay eight thousand souldiers continually: all which prodigally and vamely he spent and consumed during his fathers daies. Haue not diverse heires, and such as haue large legacies in our daies, spente as lavishly what they had, as their parents gotte the same wickedly? to whome may well be applied what the Poet writte of Canna, saying vnto him thus:

which is

Now touching the getting and spending of those possessions, which doe accrue vnto thee by thine owne paines and industry: the goods so gotten, as they are obtained by thine owne inde­vours, so Desire was the mother, Paines the father, and Care the nurse of the new-borne babe, Wealth: which many times maketh such as brought forth and nourished so vnnaturall a childe, like vnto the viper, which with the birth of her owne younge ones, is alwaies bereaved of her owne life. Therfore in the getting and vsing of thy riches and wealth remember these rules, that the [Page 39]goods, which are evill gotten, doe not bring so much present profitte, pleasure, and prosperity, as they doe cause future daun­gers,Ambr. sup. Luc. Lib. 8. and yet the fault is not in the wealth, but in them, that haue wrongfully gotten it, or in them, that cannot vse their wealth well. For that is true, which one saith,Osorius. that by how much the more any thing is in his owne nature excellent, by so much the more is the a­buse therof pernicious and daungerous. So it is not the lawful vse, but the vnlawfull abuse of riches & wealth, that is alwaies condem­ned. Neither are the opinions of Crates, Antisthenes, and other Philosophers of their iudgment, good and to be followed there­in, who would not haue any wealth (but gaue away their goods) thinking that they would be hinderances to their desired hap­pines: wherein they were deceiued, seeing that riches in them­selues are neither good nor evill, but become such, as they are vsed: good to the good, and badde to the evill and wicked:Ambr, vt Sup. to the good they are good helpes to vertue and to vertuous a­ctions: to the badde they are goades to pricke forwarde, and supporters to mainetaine all evill and vvicked actions: they make not a man the better that hath them, except they be well vsed, more then a golden bitte makes a horse the better that beareth it: and to vse them well is to enioy them: as to vse them evil, is to abuse them. The good or evill vse of them also consisteth in the estimation that we make of the same. For if we growe once into to great a liking and loue of our goods, then they steale a­way the heart of him, that hath them, and make him a slaue to his owne substaunce, according to that which the Poet saith:

That is,

So that they doe, as the Tragedian testifieth, drinke poison in golde: Sen. in Thy. or as Midas, whome the Poets fained to haue desired of the Gods one petition, the which being graunted him, hee vvished [Page 40]that whatsoever he might touch should bee turned into golde; which he obtaining purchased nothing thereby but his owne destru­ction. For when he should feede, his [...] (by reason of his former request) becōming so hard a me [...], might well choake his, but never nourish him. This was set downe to signifie how much harme they procure vnto themselues which purpose no­thing but the heaping of wealth without regard, how it is got­ten or how it shall be spent. For it is true that Iuvenall saith,

that is,

Great charge of wealth the misers hart doth break & teare. Besides the wrongfull getting of them, and the great care that he hath in keeping of them, there is as great daunger in the evill vsing of thē: either in not vsing thē at al, but hording thē vp to the hurt of many: or else in imploying of thē otherwise, thē they ought to be imployed. They that haue great store of goods, and vse them not at al, keepe them cloase, either because they know not what to doe with them, or else because they cannot find in their hartes to deparr with them. For the first sort they are like vnto them that haue good horses in their stables (as Isocrates saith) and know not how to ride thē, whereby for want of vse they become altogither vnprofirable. And as for the secōd sort, that haue no desire to vse their goods, though they know how to do it; they are not very vnlike vnto the she-Ape which makes so much of her young-ons, that, with continual clasping of thē, she many times crusheth them to death: so these covetous crea­tures (that know how to vse their good, and wil not) do so claspe it, and hide it in their coaffers, that with the cloase keeping ther­of they doe (as it were) crush it to death, for that they burie it in the sepulcher of forgetfulnesse, and vnprofitablenesse. So then it is the estimation that we make of riches, which maketh a man either happy or vnhappy in the getting, in the hauing, and in the vsing of his goods. For vnlesse his minde be his mo­derator [Page 14]therein, there is no law, but the law of Reason, that can limitte his desires.Plutarch. in Vit. Lycurgi. Lycurgus made a lawe amonge the Lacede­monians to take away their coyne of golde and silver, allowing them only coyne made of iron; thinking that he thereby should haue brought them to despise and contemne coyne by the base­nes of that mettall; yet all this could not banish covetousnes out of the cittie. For, their mindes being basely bent, they were as­well in loue and liking with the baser, as vvith the better mettalls. Take away from a man all his vvealth, yet you cannot take from him his covetousnesse. For that remaineth still in his minde. If he hath little, hee desireth much, if hee haue much, hee desireth more: so that desire is the fuell, that setteth his minde still on fire. If some men doubt vvhy GOD giueth plenty of goodes vnto the badde, who know­eth not hovve to vse them; and taketh it from the good, that can vse them vvell; Augustine vvill aunsvvere them that if GOD shoulde giue his temporall blessinges onely vnto the good, August. de verb. Dom. Serm. 12. the evill vvoulde thinke that hee ought to be glorified onely for this and nothinge else. Againe, if hee shoulde giue them vnto the evill and vvicked onelie, the vveake vvoulde bee af­fraide to bee converted, least that they thereby shoulde vvante. If it shoulde bee taken from the evill, then they vvoulde thinke that this onely shoulde bee their punishment. From the good hee often taketh it, that they shoulde de­sire better thinges; vvhich they haue not common with the vvicked. Now that thou maiest make a right vse of this Con­sideration, in waighing hovve thou hast gotten, and how thou doest spende thy wealth, obserue alwaies this, that in thy rea­sonable care to obtaine sufficiencie, thou keepe vnto thy selfe a safe conscience not to wronge them, vvith vvhome thou doest deale: and that thou grovve not into to much loue with thy wealth; in the dispensation thereof thou oughtest also to vse Iustice vnto thy selfe in observing these fowre circumstaunces, to VVhome, VVhou, VVherefore, and Hovve thou bestovvest thy vvealth; vvhich if thou perfourme, then hast thou wel con­sidered, who thou art in the state of thy wealth.

CHAP. 4. The Consideration of thy selfe, who thou art in the state of thy calling and Authoritie.

FOr the Consideration of thy selfe who thou art in thy calling and dignitie; either thy estate is honourable & worshipful, or meane.Two ene­mies vnto an honora­ble estate. The first e­nemie. If it be honourable, then hast thou two great ad­versaries to assaile thee; the one without thee; the other within thee: that without thee is Envy: that within thee, is pride. Thy externall enemy, Envie, is ever feeding and gnaw­ing on thy felicity, so that it is impossible for thee to escape Envies iawes; and that especially, if by thy vertues thou bee ad­vanced and brought to an higher calling. For then thou shalt be sure to be set vpon on al sides by this externall enemy.Arist. lib. 2. Top. & 2 li. Eth. ca 7. For Envie is (as it is defined) a grieving and a grudging at other mens prosperity and happinesse. There are certaine degrees, by which Envy doth worke against thē, that are envied by reason of their high callings come vnto by their good deserts.1 The first is a se­cret murmuring, when they repine at his wel-doing, whom they hate and would faine diminish his praise and glory.2 The second is, when by detraction they seeke to depriue him of his good name.Ad Heren. Of such Cicero saith, that they by other mens dispraise doe hunt after their owne commendations. 3 The third, is when they do reioice in the adverse fortune and fal of him, that hath beene advanced for his vvorth and worthinesse.4 The last is an evill affection and inward hatred,T. de Orat. vvhich they beare, grieving at the excellency of another man, and therefore seeke his confusion. Cicero saith, that men doe many times envy their equals, and their inferiours. For when they finde themselues left behinde, they are grieved that they are out-gone by them: and very often doe they envy their superiours, and that the more vehemently, by how much more highly they esteeme or reckon of themselues, and in their iudg­ment doe passe the equalitie of common right by reason of the height of their dignitie and fortunes. So we see that too high [Page 43]a calling is accompanied with Envie, but chiefly, when arro­gancie and hauty behaviour is ioined with it. And although that Envie, this externall enemy, is very daungerous, yet is it neuer so hurtfull vnto a high estate or calling, as is the in­ternall adversarie pride. For the forraine foe, Envie,The secōd enemie. may be easi­ly preuented, because he commeth commonly to bidde the bat­taile with his banners displaied, so that he may thereby be dis­cerned to be an enemy, and being knowne, may the more ea­sily bee vvithstood. But the domestical and inwarde enemie, Pride, doeth more secretlie assaile thee, and stirre vp civill warres within thine owne citty and vvithin thine owne selfe: he commeth vnawares to thee when thou knowest not of his comming: or if thou haste knowledge thereof (which is but seldome) yet hee commeth not in the appearaunce and like­nesse of an enemy, but as a friend. For hee maketh thee be­leeue that hee commeth to mainetaine thine honor, reputation, & credit: & therefore, not fearing or suspecting him, thou canst the more hardly resist him. And pride, this inwarde enemy, is so much the more perilous (as one saith) then other enemies, because other vices haue power in our evill doinges; Aug. lib. de nat. & gra­tia. but this doeth pro­ceede and taketh strength and full growth of our good actions and best deedes.

Besides these two forenamed adversaries,A third e­nemie. an high estat or cal­ling hath yet another enemy no lesse dangerous then the tvvo former, which is, the flattery and dissimulation of Parasites: and surelie there is no man advaunced to any great calling, but shall be attended with such hypocrites, which are rather followers of his fortunes, then of himselfe; and are alwaies ready to applaude even his vvorst actions, as honourable and vertuous: whereby they blindefolde him, and in the ende drowne him in the deepe and daungerous pit of misbeliefe: neither will such soothing fellowes giue him any incouragement to vndertake any vertuous acti­on or laudable exercise. For they holde that no pollicy, sith they finde it best to followe him in his owne humors, vvhich they take to bee the onely way to come by his loue and favour: so that by these meanes great states, and men of high place and [Page 44]calling are soonest corrupted in their conditions: and as, when they doe amisse, few men dare tell them their faultes; so their flatterers will be ready to make their faultes seeme no faults vn­to them: whereby such followers make them worse then of themselues they would be.

Novv to vvithstand these strong assaultes, & to saue thy selfe from such dangerous invasions of three so mighty impediments to the knowledge of thy selfe in the state of thy calling, as are Envie, Pride, and Flattery; vse these weapons to defend thee: a­gainst Envie, vse Vertue; against Pride and Ambition, vse humility; and against Dissimulation, vse Discretion, to make difference be­tweene faithfull and flattering followers, and this may bee a marke for any generous minde, among such as follow him. The faithfull and such as desire his honour and credit, will not spare to tell him his faultes; but the flatterer will footh him in all his doings. This if thou carry in thy remembrance, and put in pra­ctise, then hast thou well considered who thou art in, thy estate and calling.

CHAP. 1. The Consideration of thy selfe what manner of man thou art, first as touching thy learning.

THe thirde and last point of Considera­tion concerning the knowledge of thy selfe is, what manner of man thou art. For as the second pointe of Consideration (which is, who thou art) doth appertaine to the knowledge of of the body, with the ornamentes that doe belong to the outward estate therof: so this last point of Consideration (which is, what manner of man thou art) doth chiefly containe the true vnderstanding of those things, which do adorne the inwarde estate of the minde. To attaine to the true knowledge whereof, it behoueth to haue the helpes of the intellectuall, morall, and theologicall vertues. Lib. 6. Eth. ca 3. The intellectuall vertues are saide of Aristotle to be fiue viz. Art, Prudence, Science, Sapience, & Intelligence. Intelligence is defined to bee the habite of principles; Science is said to be the habite of con­clusions, lib 6 Ethic. Eth. ca. 6. & cap. 3. by which we learne to distinguish truth from falshood. By these, to gither with Arte, Prudence, and Sapience (which are also partes of the intellectuall habite, of some called the intel­lectuall vertue) wee learne those grounds that doe leade vs to the more perfect rules of pacifying our inordinate passions. For it is saide that knowledge and learning doe mollifie mens manners. Ovid. lib. 2. de Pont. But thou oughtest chiefly to knowe what kinde of Arte, and what knowledge it is, that can amend the minde of man, & then to follow the same. For there are some Artes, that when they be learned with great labour, yet are more hurtful thē profitable: & [Page 46]there are some Artes (as they are oftentimes vsed) vnnecessary, and some altogeather vnlawfull.1 Those that are vnnecessary be such, as yeeld no commodity or profit to the publike weale, nor yet much to the private vse of him that doth exercise thē: as the vaine vse of Logick and Rhetoricke, when he that hath some insight in them; hath not yet Reason how to vse them: so that he maketh himselfe like to the prattling & prating Pye, Ovid. de Ph. where­of the Poet speaketh thus:

which is,

And what she heares, she speakes with chattering noise. These Artes are not in themselues vnnecessary, although for want of the right vse of them, they may be made vnnecessary & vnprofitable.2 Other Artes there are, that haue more pleasure then profitable vse in them, and in their owne natures are no­thing or very little necessary, as Musicke and the like: yet I know that the louers and practisers thereof, will frame reasons to prooue the profitte and necessity of them.3 There are also o­ther Artes, which are not onely vnnecessary, but are also alto­geather vnprofitable and vnlawfull: as the vse of that part of A­strologie which some call Medicinary, wherein they would seeme to set downe the certaine times of death, and life; of barennesse, and plenty; of warre, and peace; of mariages, of pestilence, and the like future accidents. This Arte in it selfe, is both vnnecessa­ry, vnprofitable, vnlawfull, and vncertaine. For, as Cornelius Agrippa (one that was much giuen to that study in his youth,Corn. de van scien. and very excellently well seene therein) saith: Astrologie hath nothing in it else but meere trifles, Poets fables, much and monstrous forgery and faining, vvherewith they haue imagined that the heaven is replenished. Hier de nat. Of whome another learned man saith, that these be they, which lifte themselues vp against the knowledge of all that is done, promising vnto themselues a fained knowledge, and referring the event of all thinges vnto the rising, falling, and course of the starres, following therein their Mathematicall errours. But we wil leaue these, as vn­lawfull [Page 47]and altogither vncertaine; and not worthy to bee rec­koned or esteemed of as an Arte.Lib. 6. Cap 4. Aristotle doth define an Arte to be a habite of doing with true reason. That therefore which hath no truth, nor true principles or certaine grounds, can be no Arte. But, to come vnto those Artes which are both profitable and necessary, we may doe well to consider first, that Artes are ei­ther liberall, or illiberall and Manuary. The liberall are saide to be the Seaven sciences; and they may be called liberall, because they require a liberal minde to be bestowed on them, that is free from other cares, free from passions, free from sordiditie. The other Artes, which are Manuary, although they do not so much adorne the minde of man, yet are they necessary for the vse of man, and they sustaine his necessities, keeping him from idlenes, which is the cancker of the minde: yet omitting those Manuarie Artes, as matters that doe not of themselues much beautifie the minde, wee vvill say somewhat concerning the knowledge of the other Artes, which are called the liberall Sciences, whereby it shall be seene what manner of men they are, that attaine to the knowledge of them, and to be perfect Artistes. And first, as tou­ching the obtaining of those Sciences; it hath beene a question betweene Philosophers of former ages, whither knowledge, vertue, Whither vertue and knowledge be in vs by Nature.? and science were in vs by nature, or that it came vnto vs by studie and exercise: wherein Platoes opinion was disallowed and reiected of Aristotle and others. For Plato his position was this, that the soule and minde of man was at his first creation adorned and invested with all science, vertue, and knowledge, but that by reason of the infirmities of the body, it is (as hee said) dulled & dark­ned with forgetfulnesse and ignoraūce: so that whatsoever man learneth afterwards it is but (as it were) a calling to remembrance, Scientia (ait Plato) est reminiscen­tia: scire est reminisci. and a renewing or restoring of that, which first he knew. But Aristotle, that famous Philosopher, is an adversarie to this opinion. For he doth not acknowledge any such absolute excellency in na­ture: but cōfesseth that there are in mā by nature certaine seeds and sparkles of knowledge. And vve are saide to know,Arist lib. 2. Ethic. cap. 1. and to haue science by Definition, and Demonstration. The Definition, and Demonstration we doe gather from Particulars. Omnis do­ctrina et om. For out [Page 48]of Individualls we gather the Definition of the Speciall: and out of the Specialls, wee gather the definition of the Generall. But these Definitions and principles of demonstration are not foūd or settled in the first frame and foundation of Naturc. For by helpe of the Phantasy, which doth stirre vp and offer vnto the minde the Idëas or imagination of things, the Minde doth ga­ther the essence and qualities of thinges, which was not at the first perceiued or planted therein. It may be conceiued that Pla­to imagined that there should be absolute knowledge in man by nature, by reason that he reade (as some haue supposed) the first booke of Moses, vz. Genesis, whereof his workes doe savour some­what: and finding therein that man at the first vvas created ab­solutely good,Genes. Cap. 1 according to the likenes of him that created him, he was moued to imagine and thinke (as you haue heard) that he knew althings at the first, never remembring, or little regar­ding to examine further of his fall: and how Man, desiring to know good and evill (whereof he was ignorant, and therefore knew not all things) did thereby loose that light of knowledge, which was originally ingraffed in him; whereby also all his po­sterity were and are plunged in the sea of ignorance, as a punish­ment paide on them, and on vs all for our first Parents disobedi­ence. And although that Aristotle seemeth to refute Platoes rea­son of mans perfect knowledge by Nature, yet he himselfe af­firmeth that all Doctrine and all discipline proceedeth out of a praeexe­stent knowledge. Arist. Lib. 1. Poster. Cap. 1 Whereby he might seeme in some sorte to con­sent with Platoes conclusion. Yet this is to be vnderstood that, that knowledge, which we haue is praeeistent, yet not in vs, but in them, from whome vvee doe receiue it. Which is made plaine by an other plaice in the same Author, where he saith: that, that doctrine & science proceedeth from man vnto man according to the com­parison which the teacher hath vnto him that is taught: Idem. lib. 1. Poetriae. this is a proofe that it commeth not by Nature, but by instruction.

But now to to conclude this point of Consideration of knowledge and learning, vve ought to knowe that the beginning & ending of true knowledge and learning is to know our selues. Ther­fore by how much more thy knowledge and learning doth a­bound, [Page 49]by so much more ought thy humility to exceede: least, forgetting thy selfe, thy knowledge and thy learning doe little benefite thee. Which rules if thou alwaies remember, then hast thou considered thy selfe aright what manner of man thou art touching thy knowledge and learning.

The consideration of thy selfe what manner of man thou art in thy vvisedome. CHAP. 2.

HAVING considered thy selfe. Ʋ Ʋhat manner of man thou art concerning thy knowledge in learning, as in Artes & sciences: it commeth next in course that thou shouldest consider what manner of man thou art in thy vvisedome (for Wisedome is saide also to be one of the intellectuall Habites) & this by some is divided into two partes, that is; into prudence and sapience. Prudence (as they affirme) is the knowledge of humane affaires onely;Aug lib. de Trin. Cicer. lib. 4. Tusc. but Sapience pertaineth to the knowledg of things both divine and humane: which is the cause that wee imitate divine things, and all humane inferiour matters are lead by the force thereof. Therefore if some men esteeme Prudence (vvhich is commonly called Pollicy) to bee the chiefest parte of Wisedome: yet hovve shorte this Prudence or humane polli­cie is of that true vvisedome, vvhich conteineth the knowledg of things divine and humane, vve may measure it in this, that by how much the heavens are higher then the earth; by so much the knowledg of heavenly things is more worthy, and more ex­cellent then the knowledg of humane affaires & earthly things.Plut. lib. de morals ver­tute. Prudence also is vnperfect and vncertaine being (as a wise Phi­losopher affirmeth) many times drowned in things full of errours and of turbulency, and it is constrained to bee coupled with thinges casuall, to vse Consultation in matters doubtefull, which being done, it must vse the helpe of thinges vnreasonable for assistaunce. As touching the partes of Prudence, which are reakoned to bee Reason, Ʋnderstanding, Circumspection and [Page 50]the like, as they are good helpes to furnish and set foorth the praise of Prudence; so are they but seldome seene to some & concurre altogither in one: or if any one doeth attaine to that excellency of Prudence, so as he doe possesse al the parts there­of, yet doth it serue but to set before him heapes of cares, and Labyrinthes of difficulties: so that the workes of Prudence and humane Pollicy may very well be compared to the Spyder, vvho taketh great paines, and vseth great arte (in her kinde) to vveaue her webbe, which when it is finished, doth serue to no other vse, but to catch some few little fearefull flies: as for the great flies they either goe by the weake webbe, or through it without any danger at all: and many times after all the paines taken therein, either the violence of windes, or of some other fowle weather on the soddaine doth deface and destroy that well-wrought web. So falleth it out ful often with the workmāship of humane Pol­licie. For when a man by Prudence and humane Pollicie hath fashioned some cunning, fine, or artificial web (faire to the out­warde appearance of the worlde) and that withall the devises, that a curious and a painefull conceipt can frame; yet (in a mā ­ner) it is but as if it vvere a vvorke to catch flies in the aire, or (in deede) fooles with vaine allurementes vppon the land: as for the greater flies, which are as strong and cunning as the Spider her selfe, they will catch the Spider as sone, or rather, then the Spider shall intercept or intangle them. Admitte thou (oh worldly Politique man, whosoeuer thou art) that thou hast wouen thy webbe with the threede of Prudence very strongly, procuring thy selfe great patrimonies, honorable alliaunce, pre­ferments many, and high advancements: yet perchance on the suddaine, and when thou thinkest least of it, some suddaine stormes of ill fortunes will fal vpon thee, and so tumble thee in thy well-wrought webbe of Prudence and Pollicy, that it wil be all to rent and torne in pieces: or what thou dreamest least of, the last Conquerour Death, he commeth, and (as an vnplacable enemy) breaketh in pieces thy whole web so prudētly wrought and so politiquely finished to thine owne content, to the greate ioy of thy friends, & to the wonder & admiration of most men. [Page 51]But least we should be thought to sette aside all estimation, and to make no accoumpt of Prudēce, or humane Pollicy, which in worldly matters carrieth so great a stroke amongst men, it were not amisse to examine the partes of Prudence and to estimate thereby the value thereof: and they are reakoned by some to be, Reason, Circumspection, Counsaile, and the like.Macrob. in Com. somn. Scip. Nowe Reason as it is a part of Prudence (for Reason sometimes is taken for the principal facultie of the soule & so it is the subiect of Pru­dence and other Intellectual Vertues) is the discourse of the vnder­standing by which the vniversall principles of thinges that may be done, are applied vnto particular things which are to be done, though diverse & vncertaine. And so Reason & Vnderstanding are not distin­guished as two diverse povvers, but as two diverse actes of the same power. For, to reason, is to proceede from one vnderstand­ing vnto another, yet every kinde of Reasoning is not that part of Prudence, which we speake of in this place, because, if wee take Reasoning largely in that sense, as it is a proceeding from principles vnto conclusions, as in Syllogismes, and in the Arte of arguing either Rhetorically, or Logically; this is rather to bee reac­koned as an Arte of Reasoning, then Reason it self. For if Reason did consist in speaking eloquently, or in disputing subtilly, then the idle Rhetoriciā, and the subtile Sophyst should be most pos­sest, and best indued with Reason; and consequently, shoulde enioy chiefly that part of Prudence. Isidorus saith, that Discreti­on is the provident fore-seer in iudging the causes of things,Isidor. in Sin & the reason of moderating mens mindes: according to which application Reason is applied or defined by him to be, the order of doing things proceeding from their cause, as, what, in what place, and, how thou shouldest doe, speake, and vnderstand.

Next vnto Reason,Tho Agu. Sec. 2. Circumspection claimeth a place in the ef­fectes and operation of Prudence: which is defined to bee the attention of circumstances in morall matters: and if it be an attention of circumstances, then it must consider what doth belong vnto place, person, and time: and not so much to followe the time in all things. For that were irreligious, although some Politici­ans prescribe that as a good rule, & very requisite to be obserued [Page 52]of prudent men: but to yeelde vnto necessity is a rule, which both Reason and Circumspection doth teach vs, because we are not thereby constrained to forsake the boundes and law of honesty. In this, Coniecture comes in as an harbinger, to lodge the Circū ­stances of our Circumspection, and to prepare the way to Electi­on, as what, when, and how, things ought to be done: neither may there be too much Circumspection vsed (for that it often-times turneth to iealousie, or suspition without cause) & as the Comoe­dian concludeth:Plaus. in Cap. he, that is most circumspect, least he be deceived, is scarce circumspect mough, when he is most circumspect, and this pro­vident man, when he is most carefull, is most commōly caught. After Circumspection commeth Counsaile, bringing with it the Conclusion of Prudence. For after Counsaile there is nothing to be performed but the execution thereof, which is the end & event of thinges.Cic. lib. 1. Rhet. Jdem lib. 2. This Counsaile is called the inquisitiue appetite of doing things thought vpon with Reason: and the same author saith, that it is the subtile foreseeing of the minde in causes to be examined or gover­ned: to the attaining wherof Seneca giveth singular precepts,Senecatract. de virtute. say­ing; if thou desire to be prudent, intende and extend thy fore­sight to future things, and ponder what may come to passe: let those things that must needes be done of thee, be (as it were) be­fore thee alwaies and in thy sight, For he that is wise, saith not, I thought this could not be; he doubteth not what shall happen, but expecteth and looketh for it; he doth not suspect it, but he doth looke and provide to prevent it: seeke therfore (saith he) if thou wilt proue wise in deed, the cause of every thing, & having foūd the beginning, consider and bethinke with thy selfe what may be the end thereof. These preceptes that concerne Counsaile (though they are excellent) yet notwithstanding are easier to be given, then to be followed or put in practise and accomplish­ed: this is the substance of all difficult matters and such as haue neede of Consultation; vvherein we finde by common experi­ence that every man can more readily, and with words more li­berally advise another man what he should doe, then if the case did concerne himselfe. For anxiety and doubt of doing that, which a man may dammage himselfe by, doth diverse times so [Page 53]distract his senses betweene feare and forethinking, that his iudg­ment thereby is much and mightely darkened. In Counsaile therefore, whether it be for a man his owne selfe, or for his friend a due Deliberation of any thing in doubt is alwaies requisite. For, as Seneca saith, there are two things,Sen. in Proverb. which are contrary and ad­verse to good Counsaile, that is festination, or overmuch haste; and Anger, or choller. And the same author adviseth every man to deliberate long of that thing, which he must do & performe, though it were but once.

If thou wilt vnderstande, what manner of man thou art in owing and possessing of Prudence or worldly Pollicie, or whither thou be happie or vnhappy in having thereof, let this be vnto thee as a certaine rule, that it is, as all other worldly blessings are vnto thee. Gold is good, if it be turned to good vses: yea it is also euil, & maketh thee evil to, if thou doe not vse it vvel. Such is the effect of Prudence or hu­mane Pollicy: it vvorketh also according as thou doest vse it. For as Seneca saith, if a prudent man exceede his bounds,Sen. lib. de benef. he shevveth himselfe to be a subtile searcher of thinges hidden; a finder and a follovver of al faultes, euil, full of pride, crafty, an e­nemy to innocency, a commender of crimes, and in conclusion, accompted of by al men as of a lewd person, vngodly, and very vvicked. And this is true, that men, vvhich are by nature poli­tique and vvel practised, or of great experience in vvorldly mat­ters, if they follovv not a right course, apply their heartes and vvittes to that vvhich is good, keeping themselues vvithin the compasse of honestie and a good Conscience, they are of all people most pernitious and most dangerous to converse, or to be dealt vvithall.

CHAP. 3. The Consideration of thy selfe, what manner of man thou art touching the perturbations of the minde.

THe Minde of man may bee compared vnto a compasse or a carde, by which the sea-men do direct their course. Which if it be truely drawne, & the points therof perfectly obser­ved; then the passengers most cōmonly do come safe & quietly vnto the hauen & harbor, where they would be, but if the Pilote do not place his compasse aright, & perfectly obserue the points thereof, then vsually the ship, wherein he saileth, is driuen out of the right course, and happily runneth against the rockes. Such is mans estate in this miserable world, which is the sea, wherein hee saileth: his minde is his cōpasse, & if that be not vprightly placed & directed by the points of Reason, then the cōpasse serueth to no vse, but he is caried a wrong way with the violent stormes of pas­sions & perturbations of the minde against the rocks of miseries & many misfortunes in this world. Seeing thē that a quiet, a setled, & a contented minde is the only meane & compasse to carry vs frō the crosses & calamities of this worlde, & to convay vs vnto the harbor & haven of happines: seeing also that the Perturba­tions of the Minde do much hinder the true course of tranquilli­ty & of felicity in this life: It were not amisle to examine the en­trāces & passages by which these Perturbations do overwhelme the minde of man, which being found out, it wil be the more ea­sie to avoide the inconveniences and dangerous effects thereof.

Divers and very doubtfull haue bin the opinions of auncient Philosophers cōcerning the Perturbations of the minde, as what they should be, & frō whence they should proceede? whether they were only actiue or passiue qualities, or else mixed of both? what the number of them should be? Whether al kindes of per­turbations were to be reiected? with diuers other such doubtes, wherein they did much dister. And because it doth very much concerne the knowledge of mans selfe what manner of man he is, to be informed touching the perturbations of the minde, we will say some­what therein.

Zeno, being the principall of of the Stoicke Philosophers doth define.Cicero lib. 4. Tuscu. quest Perturbation (as Cicero alleadgeth) to be an averse commo­tion of the minde contrary to Reason. This definition some others haue seemed to dislike. For they say that every kind of Pertur­bation is not altogeather averse and contrary vnto Reason, al­though most kinds of Perturbations be voide of Reason. Which Aristotle affirmeth, when he saith that A vertue is conversant about pleasure and griefe. Arist. lib. 2. Ethic cap. 3. Also Epicurus alleadgeth that the chiefe felicity of man consisteth in pleasure, wherein he is misconceiued of many; for he placeth this pleasure wholy in vertue and vertu­ous actions, and not in the pleasures of the body, as divers do vn­truely vnderstand him. Neither doe the strict rulers of Theolo­gie absolutely take away all kindes of Perturbations from the minde of man, for as Saint Augustine saith,August. de Civita. Dei. the cittizens of the holy and heavenly citty do feare, desire, grieue, and reioyce, and yet because their loue is right, they haue also their affections vpright.

Likevvise the heroicall vertues as fortitude and magnanimitie haue some of the Perturbatiōs of the minde, as their instrumēts for the obiects of them: as honor, glory, & victory are never ob­tained or attempted but thorow the prosecutiō of some of those Perturbations. But least our meaning might be mistaken, and that some should suppose that we goe about to allow al the Perturbations. of the minde as either necessary or tollerable, we will distinguish of Perturbations, and consider of their course ei­ther in respect of the subiect, in which they are, or the obiectes, a­bout which they are cōversant, & the end, to which they tende. The subiects, in which they are, are of two sorts:1 First Creatures wanting Reason, as beasts, which by naturall instinct doe feare that which may be hurtful vnto their kind, & they desire that, which is for the preservation of their kinde. And in them these Per­turbatiōs are not against Reason, although the subiects, in which these Perturbations are, be voide of Reason. But the Stoickes af­firme that there are no Perturbations in beastes, yet the Peripa­tetickes and the Academickes alleage the contrary, that beastes haue by Nature a proanes to pleasure and griefe, to loue and ha­tred, [Page 56]following and forsaking: all which are properly called Per­turbations. The next subiect, in which these Perturbations are, may be Man himselfe, and the Perturbations, wherewith he is possessed, may be either tollerable; or intollerable, according to the obiects, about which, and the end, to which they are dire­cted. And there is some kinde of Perturbations in man not one­ly voide of Reason, but contrary to Reason. As when a man na­turally indued with Reason, doth vsually yelde vnto vnreaso­nable actions, following his Concupiscible Appetite in lust, or the like vaine Pleasures; or else the Irascible Appetite in anger, ven­geance and the like, being proane through the instigation of these Perturbations to do that, which tendeth vnto the destru­ction of his owne kinde: and these Perturbations are not one­ly contrary to Reason, but even altogither raised and blotted out of Reasons bookes. There is an other kinde of Perturbation in man (as it may in some sort so bee called) which yet worketh with, and by Reason, as that Delight, and Ioy, which we take in vertue, and vertuous actions; and that Displeasure & Offence, which we conceiue at thē that do vitiously behaue thēselues. In this here is Delight, & Displeasure, which are reackoned as Per­turbations, and yet the groundes of them proceede from Rea­son, and worke with Reason, or at the least, not contrary to Reason.

Now next for the number of the Perturbations, they haue bin alwaies left vncertaine,Plato. de Re­pub. li. 9. and not agreed vpon. For Plato vvould haue them to be innumerable, when as he doth call the Concupis­cible Appetite, a beast of many heads. For it cōtaineth desire, delight, loue,Cicero. lib. 4. Tuscul. pleasure, and others almost infinite. Cicero according to the opinion of the Stoickes affirmeth that there are foure first heades of the Perturbations, vnder which the rest are placed, as griefe, feare, ioy, and lusts, He saith in that place that there are cōtained vnder griefe, Envie, Emulation, Oblectatiō, Bewailing, Carefulnes, Affliction, Desperation and such like. Vnder feare he putteth Slouth, Shame, Terror, Astonishment, and the like. Vnder pleasure he placeth Delectation, Desire, and many other, so that he setteth downe no certaine number of the Perturbati­ons, [Page 57]although he alloweth, as it were certaine roots, out of which the rest should spring But yet most do cōsent, that there are two foundations or fountaines, from whence the rest of the Pertur­bations doe proceede; that is, the Concupiscible and the Irascible Appetites: the Perturbations following the Concupiscible Appetite, are loue, hatred, desire, delectation, and sorow: so likewise the Perturbatiōs which appertaine to the Irascible Appetite, are hope, desperation, feare, boldnes, disdaine, presumption, and the like.

3 Then as concerning the course of these two principall rootes of Perturbation with their particular baranches, if thou wouldst know how they doe come or make entrance into the Minde of man, and thereby way with thy selfe, What manner of man thou art therein, know that there is no man liuing absolutely free and cleare from all these Perturbations of the Minde, and although some men are more subiect vnto them then others are, yet there is not any, that is not molested with some of them. Notwith­standing, it is more vsuall to men of some age and estate to bee incombred with some particular Perturbations, then to others. Also they are more incident to one sexe then to an other. Like­wise they come to some by Nature, and to other some by Acci­dent. As for exampleahe Concupiscible Appetire with his seve­rall branches is more common, and yet not so continuall as is the Irascible. For to loue, to hate, to desire, to delight, to dis­like, are things common to al men, though not at all times. And they come more by Accident thē by Nature: And yet somtimes by both. But the Irascible Appetite with his particular partes doth much possesse many men by Nature; as some are from their cradell fearefull: some are by Nature angrie and washpish; some are alwaies impacient: some are never but presumptuous & the like. As touching the Perturbations proceeding from the Irasci­ble Appetite, some haue affirmed that they come of hote blood, stirred vp about the hearte, which doth kindle and inflame the spirites with an immagination of anger & offence. And (as one saith) there are fiue degrees, by the which men are stirred vp to wrath & anger; the first is, Man against himselfe: the second is man against mā: the third is against his superiour power, as God: the fourth is against his inferiours, as beastes and other creatures [Page 58]without reason: the fifte is against thinges without life.1 As for the first, which is the anger, that man conceiueth against him. selfe: it may in some sorte be lawfull and commendable, as when he is angrie with himselfe for his offence committed in doing a­ny dishonest thing: this anger is laweful, but vvhen he is angrie with himselfe, because he cannot doe that, which he woulde, or cannot haue that, which he desireth, being thinges either im­possible or vnprofitable to bee performed, or else vnlawfull or vnmeete to be desired; this kinde of anger is against Reason.2 The next, which is the wrath that one man conceiueth against an other, this may bee either tollerable or intollerable, as the cause thereof is, or as he, which is offended, doth'carrie and be­haue himselfe in the course of his wrath: the cause of anger may be such, that to conceale it, were not commendable. For when a mans good name is takē away vniustly by a slanderer or back­bitter, to conceale this is not commendable: because he that is slaundred, being silent, seemeth to condemne himselfe; yet the anger that is conceiued in this case, ought not to extend pre­sently vnto extremity of revenge. For if the partie mooued may be satisfied with the confession of his accuser that he hath wronged him, or that he can otherwise prooue himselfe wronged, whereby the worlde is satisfied, that he was slaundred, his anger ought to be appeased.3 Third kinde of anger, which is of man a­gainst his maker, is both irreligious and vnreasonable, and may rather be called madnes, then anger. For it is like his condition, that throweth stones into the aire vpright, and standeth stil, vn­til they fal vpon his owne head.4 The fourth, which is the anger of man against beastes, is but little more then bestiall, when the vnreasonable creature shalbe angry with the vnreasonable.5 The fift of man against things without life sheweth that he wanteth that reason, which should be the light of his owne life.

Somewhat should be saide as concerning the cause & course of the Concupiscible Appetite, but because we desire to avoide tediousnes, and that the shortnes of time alloweth no large dis­course, I will conclude with some shorte precept for the avoi­ding of these two perillous Appetites of the mind; which are the Irascible and the Concupiscible Appetite. Therefore if thou [Page 59]wilt shunne those two so cruel adversaries vnto a cōtēted mind, as are the Concupiscible and Irascible Appetite, thou must first learne what maner of man thou art in suffering or in suppressing of these Appetites of the minde; thou must call vnto thy remembraunce & knowledg the vse of Intellectual, Moral & Theological Vertues.

Next in place (but before in operation & effect) are the Mo­rall vertues, which do incline and invite men to do things honest and lavvful: these do helpe much to quiet the Perturbations of the minde & to make a man knovv vvhat manner of man he is. But especially the sowre Morall vertues, which are called Cardi­nall vertues, do much further the conquering of those Passions: as Temperance, Prudence, Fortitude and Iustice. They are called Cardinall vertues, a Cardine, signifying the hindge of a doore: be­cause as on the hindge the gate is turned, shut and opened; so the heart of man, which is the hindge of the doore in doing all good actions, is opened to things honest, & shut against things vnhonest by force of these vertues. And although those fowre, called the Cardinal vertues, be of greatest force, yet al the rest do serue in some sort to governe the Perturbations of the Minde, and to make a man know what manner of man he is: As Mag­nificence, Magnanimity, Liberality, Modesty, Mansuetude, Vrba­nitie, Affabilitie. Whereof some do respect the body with the Minde, some do direct the Minde most.

Those, vvhich require the bodies assistaunce (although they haue wholy the mindes direction) are Fortitude and Magnanimi­tie: some belong vnto the government of the senses as Tēperāce vnto the tvvo senses of Touching and Tasting. But Continencie ap­pertaineth to the moderating of all the senses. Some others doe serue for direction of manners, as Affabilitie in vvords or speech; Vrbanitie or civility in deedes. So by the helpe of those Morall vertues thou maiest learne to master the Perturbations of the Minde appertaining either to the Cōcupiscible or srascible Ap­petite. For by Fortitude thou maiest overcome Feare: by Man­suetude thou maiest conquere Impatience, anger, & such like; by Temperance and Continency thou maiest subdue Immoderate desires, as lust and such other like passions and Perturbations of the minde, vvhere vvith men are much overwhelmed. Yet be­cause [Page 60] Ʋertue is saide to bee a mediocrity betwixt two vices having the excesse on the one side, Arist. lib. 2. Lib. and the defect on the other; hovv hard then it is alwaies to keepe the Meane and not to fall on either side, e­very man may easily see and know. For as we see travellers, who haue a long iorney to make, sometimes doe meete with many waies in one place, some turning on the right hand, some on the left, and others going out-right: yet of al these waies there is but one, which is the right vvay, and that often seemes to be the vn­likeliest way, when that, which leadeth to his iournies end, is not so beaten a way, nor so much bending (as the passenger perswa­ded himfelse) vnto his right course: so fareth it with them that travell in the tedious iourney of this life: the world is our high vvay, vvhich hath in it many by-pathes, & the poore passingers, that travel therein, are diuers times distracted, & in much doubt for the choice of their way. For the fairest way in appearaunce is not alwaies (nay it is seldome) the right way:Xenoph. lib. 1. Paed. Cyr. & the wrong waies are much more beaten and much more easie to finde then the true way. For if a man wil follow the foote steps of others exam­ple, he shal finde a broad-beaten path, which is commonly the vvorst, and the vvrong vvay. It is not the mediocrity, but it is the vvay that leadeth vnto the excesse, or to the defect. Therefore since it is so hard a matter to finde the right way in conquering the Perturbations of the minde, it behoueth euery man (if hee will be master ouer his owne Affections) to cal vnto his aide (be­sides the Intellectuall & Morall vertues before named) the Theo­logicall vertues, which are Faith, Charitie, Pietie, Patience, and the like: by the power whereof (and the permission and assistance of him that graunteth them) he may wel manage his owne minde, and all the Perturbations thereof. But because the consideratiō hereof appertaineth to the knowledge of those things, that are aboue, it must be lest vnto that last point of Consideration.

In the meane time thou maiest (by that little which hath bin here laid downe) learne somewhat concerning the knowledge of thy selfe (which is the first of the fowre principall pointes of Con­sideration) and in this thou hast seene somewhat, what, who, and what manner of man thou art.