NOne of Wiſdomes Children will either deſpaire, or be confident of any thing in this inferiour World, all things are ſubject to ſuch a ſtrange Revolution. Wee often ſee the money deſtined to ſet out a Triumph imployed in furniſhing a Funerall, and the purple, together with theſe great preparations turned into Balmes, Blackes, and Cypreſſe. Pluto ſometimes ſnatcheth Hymens Torch out of his hand, and leads the new linked couple from the Bridall Bed into his ſolitary Vault. Nay, it hath been recorded that an Execution hath bin chang'd into a Coronation, and a Scaffold built for a Delinquency, hath become a Throne of Glory. Wee have many certain ſignes of Danger and Sickneſſe, none of Security, there being in one part, or other daily examples of men that die, ſinging, laughing, eating, and drinking. The ſtrongeſt Humane Fabricke Nature ever built, a crumme going down awry deſtroyes. Force and Chance take away the Yong, and Maturity the Old. Nothing viſible that is not mortall, no Object hath ſenſe leſſe fading then itſelfe. The generall Tide waſheth all paſſengers to the ſame ſhore, ſome ſooner, ſome later, but all at the laſt. Every man muſt take his courſe, when it comes, never fearing a thing ſo neceſſary, yet alwayes expecting a thing ſo uncertaine. Our Intemperancy prepares a Feaſt for Death, and is therefore called the Mother of Phyſicians. This goodly Tree of Life is ſurcharg'd with Fruit, ſome fall by cluſters, ſome ſingle, all once. Every thing riſeth with the Condition of a Fall, and all Encreaſes have their Diminutions. This is the firme Bond that compaſſeth, and girdeth faſt the Bundle of Mortalitie, Duſt thou art, and to duſt thou ſhalt returne. That all this is true the Noble Subject of this Book is a faire, yet ſad Example, much to be lamented becauſe much to be admir'd, of whom ſomthing I muſt ſpeak, though it come as ſhort of his ineſtimable Worth, as I doe of an accompliſh'd Oratour. And here I muſt crave pardon of the judicious Reader, if I draw not his perfections to the life. My Apologie may be a juſt complaint that my ſtile is fetter'd by the idle Cenſures of Schiſmaticall Fools, whoſe purblinde ſouls cannot diſcerne betweene a fawning Flattery and a due prayſe, who have hardly language good enough to make themſelves underſtood, much leſſe to perſwade others, except it be never to read them againe. I could without the aide of any Rhetoricke at all, pen one of their dimme foggy Lines, wherein there is nothing conſiderable, that I would not reduce into a poeſie for a Ring, ſo that they might weare their own ſtory on what finger they pleaſe. But there are more then humane helps required to give a Heröe his true Character, whoſe magnanimous ſoule harbours not a thought ſmall enough to enter into their narrow, paſſive brains. As in the Ancient Sacrifices, it was not lawfull to kindle the Altars of the Gods with any materiall common Fire, but with the pure Rayes of the glorious Sun: So a divine flame is required to illuminate that Spirit which undertakes to characteriſe the ſoules of great and eminent Men. I confeſſe, freely, the the wings of my invention flag, and are not able to beare her to the Summity of her towring ſubject. It is a received opinion, that Wit encreaſeth Griefe, and Griefe Wit. I finde the former part of this Tenent true; for that ſmall proportion of Wit Nature hath given me, turns to my diſadvantage, in that it makes mee to apprehenſive of his worth, and conſequently of his loſſe; but the later I prove in my ſelfe to be falſe; for now the charming Eloquence of Anthony, Craſſus, and Cicero is required to limme this rare Piece, a ſtupifying Dulneſſe ſeizeth on mee, and the very Knowledge of what I have to write diſtracts me, ſo I know not what to write. And yet this is no wonder at all; for my beſt bloud being loſt in him, my worſer remayning muſt needs chill, and no man is ignorant, that where there is not Focus in Venis, there cannot be Subtilitas in Intellectu: When Warmth forſakes the Veines, Subtilty muſt of neceſſity abandon the Head. Yet were I maſter of as great an eloquence as Demoſthenes himſelfe, my beſt words could not give his Vertues a clothing correſpondent to their luſtre. The moſt skilfull Painter cannot give a Picture all the lively Graces contained in the Naturall, from which it is drawne; Nor can the moſt expert Oratour fully, and truly delineate the Beautie of an Originall ſo ſublime that it tranſcends his Underſtanding. As it is more eaſie to tell what is not in Heaven then what is: So it is by farre more facile to number the Vices which hee had not, then the Excellencies of which hee was the happy poſſeſſour. But becauſe in great Deſignes, even attempts are laudable, and that by many, this Teſtimony of my Duty is look'd for at my hands, I am content to take the advantage though of a moſt unhappy, and unwelcome occaſion to ſeale up my former Affection, and publiſh to the World the damage I have received by this fatall Deprivation, nor I alone but all his Stock, and all the lovely Brood of Honor, and Pietie. And I now opportunely chooſe to make this Oblation to his Memory. Quando nec laudantē adulatio movet, nec laudatū tentat elatio; When neither Flattery moveth me, nor vain-glory aſſaileth him. My comfort is, I have choſen a Theam where (to ſome judgments) the higheſt Hyperboles wil paſſe for defective Truths. Sure I am, I need not feare to out-ſpeake his merit and my love, wch ought to be ſo much that it cannot poſſibly appeare too much. I dare tell Envie and Detraction to their Teeth, that prayſe juſtly belongs to the pious deceaſed, & that I may cal it, with Pliny, the charitable Dew that makes Vertue ſpring up in the Living. Who knowes my friends better then I my ſelfe? If they are not ſuch as I make them, ſure I am, I believe them ſuch. No Crowne can give mee ſuch content as does this comfortable errour; for ſuch captious Criticks will tearm it, though in my beliefe it be an upright and impartiall Veritie.

Before I enter into his commendations, I muſt entreat all my Readers to conſider that (beſides the fore-mention'd Obſtacle) there is yet another, which is that my Pen is too ſtraightly confin'd, the bounds afforded her not being large enough to make a Demonſtration of her Agillity, and Sufficiencie; for Obſtinacie her ſelfe can not deny that (mans Life being but a Span) ſhee hath little more then an Inch allotted her to traverſe in, he dying at the Age of Fourteen. Shee muſt therefore be enforced onely to draw in a ſmal Card the firſt Spring of his Youth newly deliver'd of ſuch beautifull Iſſues commendable both for their Ornament and Odour, as are able to commit a Rape on all knowing Soules, and to ſend out a perfume as farre as Poſteritie. Had he he arriv'd at the Autumne of his Age, ſhee had then beene Miſtris of a Field large enough to exerciſe her Art in, and ſhee would have preſented the Surveighers of this Worke with as Beautifull Fruit as the large, ſpreading Tree of Honour ever bore. Wee might well divine of him, as Antigonus did of Pyrrhus, Magnus futurus ſi ſeneſceret, Hee would prove great, if Aged.

The common Method in handling matters of this nature commands me to make the firſt part of this Diſcourſe the place of his Birth, the Nobilitie of his Race, and Diſpoſition, and to continue and cloſe it up with the Vertues practiſed in his Life, and the Sanctity expreſſed in his Death.

IN ſetting downe the place of his Birth I ſhall follow the uſuall courſe of others who hold it Where a worthy man of a faire Line is born, and bred is neceſſary to be knowne. a Circumſtance very neceſſary to make knowne where a worthy man, and of a faire Line is born, and bred, in that it is not the Fertility and Beauty of the Soile, but the manners, and goodneſſe of the Dwellers that commend the place. True it is that Iſaac commands Iacob that hee ſhould not take a wife of the Land of Canaan, but of Meſopotamia in Syria, being more renown'd. I muſt not thwart the Scriptures, nor denie that ſome countries are more famous then others, but I deſire to know whether, or no the Braverie of their Inhabitants have not conferr'd on them the Renowme they are ſo big with. What made Greece the Wonder of the World, but the Learning, and Valour of her people? What makes her now the contempt of all men but the Baſeneſſe, Dulneſſe, and Cowardiſe of the ſame? What once was Ireland but another Goſhen? There was a time when the people of this Country being aſked how they had diſpos'd of their ſonnes, their Ordinary Reply was, Mandati ſunt ad Diſciplinam in Hiberniam, They are ſent into Ireland to be inſtructed. Within the remembrance of many, the Americans are not at this day more barbarous, then were the more Northerne Natives of that Iland, though now (Heaven be prayſed) they have almoſt quite ſhaken of the cumber ſome ſhackles of that Cymerian Ignorance. I infinitely applaud the ſpeech of Ariſtotle to a vain-glorious Fellow, who boaſted himſelfe a Citizen of a mighty Citie, Noli, inquit, hoc attendere, ſed an dignus ſis magna, & illuſtri Patria: Have not an eye, ſaid he, to the ſplendour of thy Country, but to thy own Worth, and examine whether thou deſerveſt to be derived thence. So that wee ſee there is no Climate ſo obſcure that is not illuſtrated by the Birth of meritorious men. Had Sir Philip Sidney written his Poem, or Sir Walter Raleigh his Hiſtory amongſt the Savages of America in Greeke or Latine, I am confident all ſucceeding Authours would have nam'd America as often as now they doe Rome, or Athens, and thoſe rude creatures would have received an imputative worth from them, whereas now they are in little, or nothing to be diſtinguiſh'd from their Cattell. Or had they penn'd thoſe their immortall Workes in the Indian Tongue (after once they had come to light) wee ſhould have ſtudied that unpoliſh'd Language as hard, as now wee do the Orientall Dialects. Did not a Gaditanian come from the fartheſt part of the World to ſee the farre fam'd Livie?

I will here cut off this no impertinent Digreſſion, with relating that this hopefull young Lord breath'd his firſt Aire at Stafford, which Towne and Country the memory of him will for ever commend, ennoble, and endeare to all ſuch as profeſſe themſelves friends to him, or Goodneſſe.

BEfore I begin to ſpeake of the Antiquity of his Family, I muſt neceſſarily inſert ſomthing of noble Extractions in generall, becauſe there are ſome clowniſh Infidels who believing there is no ſuch thing as a Gentleman.

That in all Ages, and Nations the more Worthy have beene diſtinguiſh'd from the reſt by Superiour it is here proved againſt all clowniſh Infidels, that there is ſuch a thing as a Gentleman. Titles, and callings is undeniable. The Hebrews ſever'd them from others by ſtiling them Jeduim, Horim, Scalithim, Scheliſcim, Avarim, Maſſegucrim, Artſilim, Maginim, Guevirim, Guibborim, Nedivim, Kervim, Ahhaſchedappenim, by which is ſignified in the propriety of that Language, that they are Illuſtrious, Generous, Principall Men, not much inferiour to Kings. But they were moſt honour'd who were deſcended from the greateſt Houſes, and theſe they named Benhorim, Children of Noblemen. Moſes Governour of Iſrael, to the end he might rule the people well, and worthily, ſelected ſeventy Men of Eminent Condition, Hachamim, and Jeduim, Wiſe, and Noble men well vers'd in Affaires of State. And Ioſuah his Succeſſour added others of the ſame qualitie. Men of Honorable Bloud have ever been held to be of Royall Condition, and reverenc'd as little Kings, becauſe them in ſeverall Provinces their Princes have graced with great Titles, Priviledges, and Prerogatives, and on them have conferr'd their Regall Authoritie, that by this meanes they might be more reverenc'd, and obey'd by the people whom under them they were to govern. There is no man, ſaith Livy, ſo ſtupid, that hee is not enflamed with a Deſire of Domeſticall Glory. The words of the ſame Author in another place are theſe. Parentage and Nobilitie are great Ornaments, doubtleſſe, for a man to enjoy here in this life, but farre greater to leave behinde him to his Poſterity. Harken to Cicero, Omnes boni ſemper Nobilitati favemus, & quia Reipublicae utile eſt Nobiles eſſe homines dignos Majoribus ſuis, & quia valere debet apud nos ſenex clarorum hominum de Republica meritorum memoria, etiam mortuorum: All we who are good ever favour Nobility, becauſe it is a thing profitable to the Common-wealth to have men worthy of their Anceſtors, as alſo that the aged Memory of famous Men deſerving well of the Common-wealth (though dead) ought to be in eſteem with us. Plato divides Nobility into foure parts. The firſt are they who derive themſelves from good, and juſt parents. The ſecond have Princes their Anceſtors. The third are they whoſe Progenitors have been great Warriours, and Lawreated Triumphers. The fourth and beſt, are they who excell in Magnanimitie, and Greatneſſe of Merit. And truly I am of Plato's minde; for though I am a never yielding Advocate for men of remarkable Stocks, yet I believe not that Honour is confined to run in certain particular Channels, or that the Rationall Soule ſhould be bound to the ſame Lawes with the Vegetative, or Senſible. Where Nobility is onely Nuda Relatio, a meare bare Relation, and nothing elſe I eſteeme it, not a Grace, but a Diſparagement. I ſhall never ſeeke for that Fruit in the Root which I ſhould gather from the Branch. Vertue is the legitimate Mother of Honour, not Fortune, who, though ſhee be a Queene, many times imitates unhappily ſome of her owne Ranke in ſuffering her ſelfe to be enjoy'd by Groomes, and fixeth there her Admition where the World placeth its Deriſion. Him Him whom Vice, and Ignorance doth ſtill detain priſoner in the Heard of the Vulgar, if by his own vertuous actions hee cannot ſeparate himſelfe from them, my Vote, nor Judgement ſhall ever give him Freedome. In this I am ſeconded by no worſe a man then the moſt Eloquent Demoſthenes. De Nobilitate parùm laudis praedicare poſſum, bonus enim Vir mihi Nobilis videtur, qui verò non juſtus eſt licet Patre meliore quam Jupiter ſit genus Ducat Ignobilis mihi videtur. Nobility I cannot much predicate; Hee who is a good man appeareth to mee noble; Hee who is not Iuſt (though hee derive himſelfe from a better parent then Jupiter himſelfe) ſeemes to mee Ignoble. The French uſually ſay, Le Splendeur de Vertu la Nobleſſe de Race: The Splendour of Vertue is the Nobility of Race.

I am not ignorant that the Cenſure and Cuſtome of many Kingdomes are againſt mee, where all men have reſpect, and precedencie given them by their great parentage, not their good parts. But above all other, the Dane is the Amongſt all Nations the Dane is the greateſt Adorer of Nobilitie. moſt ſtrict Obſerver of Deſcent. In Denmarke he is not ranked amongſt the Gentry, who cannot prove him Een Herremand auff Seiſten Aufner, A Gentleman of ſixteene Deſcents by Father and Mother. At all Triumphs, and Tiltings it is proclaim'd, that hee who is not ſuch muſt not preſume to handle a Sword or Lance, or enter into the Liſts. Nay, it is moſt certaine, that at thoſe great Solemnities they have excepted againſt ſome baſe ſonnes of their owne Kings defective in Bloud by the Mothers ſide, and would hardly be pacified by their Princes anſwer, which was, that what honour was wanting on the Mothers ſide was ſuperabounding on the Fathers. In the Raigne of Fredericke the Second King of Denmarke, there lived a moſt learned Man named Eraſmus Laetus, who for his Science, and pleaſing Diſcourſe, was admitted into the beſt Companies, and had an eminent place at all Tables. He proud of his high vallue, and ambitious of higher, travell'd to Venice, and was there created a Venetian Knight, and in comming backe was, made Poet Laureat by Caeſars own hand. The firſt Table hee came to after his return home was the Chancellour of that Kingdome who plac'd him loweſt of all his Gueſts, not ſticking openly to tell him that the Reverence, and Superiority which before was given him as a profound Scholar, was now denied him as a Superficiall Gentleman. If in that Kingdome an ignoble man defloure a noble Maid, his head is infallibly cut off, and ſhee lives, and dies ſhut up betweene two Walls. If any woman gently borne marry a Roturier. (as the French call him) with us a Peaſant, ſhe is deprived of her portion, and never taken notice of afterward by any of her Kinred. In ſome places of Polanda a gentleman hath this priviledge that if hee kill a Burger, a Hind, or any other ordinary man by paying downe foure ſhillings he is quit.

I abhorre this fooliſh ſtrictneſſe, and ſeverity, yet could wiſh we were not as careleſſe this way, as they were punctuall, our Tables then would not be ſo throng'd with Farme, and ſhop-Gentry. The Ancient Romans in this caſe excluded omnem quaeſtum, All manner of gaine. If my Vote might paſſe for good, all originalls of great Families hereafter ſhould iſſue out of Schooles and Campes, there being no other beginning of power to warrant them from cenſure and laughter. A true teſtimony of this I will give you in Pallas Freeman, of Claudins the Emperour, a ſervant as Worthy, as his Maſter Wiſe. You ſhall ſee an Emperour, and a Senate of Rome (Lords of the World) conſpire and combine to eternize this Pallas, and to ſet him up a marke of greatneſſe, and glory to all ſucceeding Ages. The Senate preſented this abject fellow with the Praetorian Dignity, and 150 Seſterces, the former of which he tooke, the later hee refuſed. They aſſemble together on purpoſe, and humbly thanke this ſottiſh Prince for this his ſervile Favourite, in that he had vouchſafed to commend him to the Senate, and by that gave them occaſion of ſhaping him a reward anſwerable to his merit. Upon his rejecting this their pecuniary offer, they flocke againe to the Emperour, imbrace his knees, and ſubmiſſively beſeech him to perſwade Pallas to accept of their gift, which ſupplication of theirs, this fooliſh Emperour preſented to Pallas. Behold an Emrour, and a Senate, ſaith Pliny, contending for ſuperiority in ſlavery. You would have thought by this their ſo frequent conventing before Caeſar, that either the Confines of the Empire had beene enlarged, or the Armies had return'd in ſafety. Within the firſt ſtone of the Tiburtine way they built him a Monument with this Inſcription. Huic Senatus at fidem, pietatemque erga Patronos Ornamenta Praetoria decrevit, & Seſtertium centies Quinquagies, cujus honore contentus fuit. On this man for his Faith and Piety to his Patrons, the Senate conferr'd the Praetorian Ornaments, and preſented him with 150. Seſterces, but he contented himſelfe with the Honour onely. The excellent Pliny repines ſo much at the grace and honour done this Furcifer (for ſo he calls him) that he breaks out into this bitterneſſe of Speech. This mancipated Senate, ſaith he, ſtiled that modeſty in him, which, indeed was Inſolency. How I applaud my fortune, that I liv'd not in their Times, in whoſe behalfe I bluſh ſo many yeares after their committing of this baſe folly. But why ſhould wee repine at this? Rather let us laugh, that they may not thinke they have made any great purchaſe who are come to that degree of happineſſe, as to be laughed at. By this one Example we may clearely perceive, that it is not in the potency of Princes to create a never fading A never fading Honour is not the gift of Fortune, but of Vertue. honour, that ſupreame bleſſing being in the gift of Vertue onely.

That the originall of true Nobility is not deriv'd from any accidentall good flowing from Fortune, or Linage, but receives its birth, and growth from the ability, and Harmony of a vertuous Mind, I will both by reaſon and example demonſtrate.

By reaſon; for if ſolid and ligitimate Nobility It is here proved by reaſon that Nobility depends not on the will of Fortune. depended ſo on the will and beck of Fortune, that ſhe could circumſcribe the markes, and Enſignes of Honour within the narrow compaſſe of the womb, & give, and take them away at her pleaſure, there would be nothing left in the ſpacious circumference of this earthly Globe for a Wiſe man to deſire, who knowing Fortune to be ſo changeable, that ſome of the Ancients uſed to make her Statues of Glaſſe, as an argument of her fragillity, and even then ſuſpecting, and fearing her when ſhe moſt fawnes on him, placeth not his confidence at all on her, but involves himſelfe within his owne vertue, which onely can ſecure him from her tyranny. What ever is in her poſſeſſion he ſcornes, though hee may have it for the fetching, becauſe ſhe is ſo blinde that ſhe cannot penetrate into his worth, and ſo baſe that ſhee lodgeth oftner and longer with the the ignorant and infamous, than with the more deſerving and more knowing. Hee ſmiles at their arrogancy and pride, who upon an idle perſwaſion grounded on their Nobility, preſume to take place of others, whereas, indeed, nothing is more vaine, abject, and more remote Nothing is more remote from the nature of true Nobility, than an ancient ſtocke void of vertue from the nature of true Nobility, than an ancient ſtocke voyd of vertue. The judgements of Plato, and Seneca will here bee inſerted opportunely, who affirme that if we be inquiſitive after Pedigrees we ſhall finde that there is no ſlave who is not ſprung from mighty Kings; nor no King that is not deſcended from deſpicable ſlaves. By which we may apparantly ſee that it is not greatneſſe of Blood, but of Merit, that really dignifies any man. For my owne part, I ſeriouſly proteſt, I ſhould glory more in being the happy Maſter of the lofty minde, and low Extraction of undaunted Maerius, than in enjoying all the vaſt Dominions of Terſytha, and Sardanapalus, together with the innumerable ſplendent Images of their Anceſtors. That Alexander the Great was truely Noble, no man will deny, in that he was ſonne to ſo puiſſant a Monarch as Phillip King of Macedon: yet was he ſo farre from being puffed up with any vaineglorious conceite of his royall deſcent, that Plutarch upon his credit aſſures us, he being yet a Child, repined at nothing ſo much as at his Fathers glorious Actions. To this purpoſe is remarkable that paſſage betweene him and other Children, who (alledging to him his happineſſe in being ſonne to ſo brave a Prince, that made ſuch large Conqueſts, and onely for him) received from him this magnanimous anſwer. What bootes it me to poſſeſſe much, when I my ſelfe have done nothing memorable? So proſperous a ſucceſſe attends all my Fathers Enterprizes, that hee will leave me nothing to Conquer. O generous ſpeech proceeding from a high aſpiring minde, deſervedly deſtin'd to Conquer, and governe this lower Hemiſpheare. Me thinkes I heare him thus enlarge his reply. Hath my Father in one night deflowred both Fame and victory, and extorted from them a vow never hereafter to waite on any but him? ſhall I then live like a Plant, and onely grow to ſtand ſtill? Sloth is the common Nurſe to all Vices, and in learning nothing, we learne to doe ill. I like the Cuſtome of that Nation who ſuffered not their Children to be taught any thing ſitting, and alwaies ſacrific'd to the gods the laſt Commer to the Army. Barre mee Motion, and action, and conclude mee a Trunke, not a Man. Shall I lye ſtill impriſon'd within the Straights of my owne Greece? No, I am reſolv'd not onely to trace my Sire, but to out-goe him. I will have this maſſie Globe meaſur'd, that I may ſee how much is left for me to overcome. The Sunne ſhall not diſcover more then I will Conquer, onely I would not ſo ſoone vanquiſh as he ſurveighs, leſt my Valour ſhould want employment. Of the ſame thred with this opinion of Alexander, is that of Lijcus in Seneca's Hercule furente.

It reſteth now, that I confirme by Example It is here by example confirmed that Deſcent is no ſound Argument of true Nobility. what I have proved by Reaſon, that Deſcent is no ſound Argument of true Nobility. The truth of this, the very conſideration of the inconſtancy of humaine affaires will aſſure us, in that the Preſidents are moſt frequent of men this day proſtrate, and the ſcorne of all men, to morrow exalted, and their very nods obſerved.

If wee looke backe upon old Rome wee ſhall quickly perceive, that not long after ſhee was built, many obſcure men became her Rulers. Who knowes not that Tarquinius Priſcus, one of her moſt famous Kings, had for his Parents a baniſh'd Merchant, and a ſervile Woman? Was not Servus Tullius the ſonne of a meane fellow, and a Maid ſervant? Was not the birth of Tullus Hoſtillius, who preceeded both theſe in the Empire, very meane, he having beene in his Nonage ſometimes a Neatheard, ſometimes a Shepheard? Now let us come to the Caeſars themſelves, and examine whether or no they were of more renowned extraction than their Kings. Auguſtus himſelfe (whoſe Greatneſſe and Happineſſe grew to a Proverbe, (Sis Auguſto Felicior, Trajano melior) and whoſe ſurname at this day the German Emperours with pride uſurpe, ſhutting up all their Titles with Semper Auguſtus, ever Auguſtus) was not his Grandfather a Silver-ſmith, and his Father an Aſtipulator? Both which Cicero writing to his brother Quintus avoucheth to have obtain'd the Quaeſtorſhip by ſupplication. What other Founder of his Stocke had Vitellius than a Libertine, or Freed man, whom Caſſius Severus, and many others maintaine to have beene no better than a Tayler. Trajan, the beſt of all the Caeſars (in whoſe Reigne the Mappe of the Roman Empire was at the faireſt) ſwamme at firſt in no Flood of Fortune, and that hee was of no great Houſe. Nerva himſelfe inferres, who when he deſign'd him Emperour, and commended him to the Senate, bade them looke into the mans merit, not his parentage. Pertinax none of their worſt Emperours had a ſlave to his Grandfather, and a freed man to his Father. Piſcenninus Niger, no bad Prince, had no better a beginning. Opilius Macrinus, was firſt a Servant, then a Freed man. Galienus, Poſthumus Lolienus, and Martius, whoſe Reigne continued but three dayes, could not glory much in their Pedigrees, the later of which was but a Smith. Galerius had poore Country parents, and he himſelfe was an Armorour, and from thence got the ſirname of Armentarius. Of the ſame poore condition were Maximinus, Pupienus, and Balbinus, his co-Regnant. The vertuous Aurelius was born meanly. The Father of the moſt accompliſh'd Probus was a Gardner, yet was hee Lord of ſo many perfections, that Valerius the Emperour earneſtly by Letters exhorted his Sonne Gallenus to imitate him in all things, uſing often to ſay by the way of Alluſion to his Name, that if his Cognomen had not beene Probus his Praenomen ſhould have beene ſuch. Bonoſus roſe from a Schoole-maſter to be an Emperour. Diocleſian was the Sonne of a Notary. Licinius, and Maximinianus, Eutropius, and Paulus Oroſius, number amongſt the Plebeians. The Father of the Emperour Valentinianus was a Rope-maker, whence he himſelfe got the nickname of Funerarius. Iuſtinius was but an Armorour. I muſt not omit Baſilius the Macedonian, who being brought Captive amongſt other vendible ſlaves to Conſtantinople was there created Emperour. I cannot paſſe over Abdolominus, or, as ſome wil have him call'd Abactonius, who was brought by Alexander from drawing water, and watering Gardens, and by him made King of Sidonia, to to the eternall diſhonour of all the diſcontented Nobility of that Countrey. Nor muſt I conceale Antipater, the ſucceeder of Alexander in the Kingdome of Macedonia, who was Nephew to a ſhe Player, that acted the Clownes part. Arſaces, King of the Parthians, is reported to have beene the ſonne of the people. The Parents of Cambyſes, King of the Perſians were of poor condition. Darius the ſonne of Hyſtaſpes, who bore no better an Office under Cyrus then that of a Serjant, was exalted to be King of the Perſians, and was the firſt of that Name. Here I muſt introduce the Father of Eumenes carrying of burthens, and Telephanes, who being but a baſe Coachmaker, obtained the Lydian Crowne. I cannot but inſert Mydas, who by the Phrygians was called from the Cart to be their King, and Ptolomaeus who made ſo large a Step, as from being a common Souldier to be crowned King of Egypt. Tyridates clome from a ſervant to be King of the Parthians. Livy informes us, that Vectius Meſſius King of the Volſcians, was more commendable for his Deeds then his Birth. Who is ignorant that Parrhaſius, and Lycaſtus (being expoſed by their Mother to the mercie of the weather, and wilde beaſts) were found, and brought up by Tilliphus a Shepherd, and afterwards governed Arcadia. That the Shepherd and Hog-heard Tamberlaine was afterward King of the Scythians, is obvious to every mans knowledge. I will here make a holy concluſion with David, and Saul, whom God himſelfe withdrew, the one from following the Ews, the other from following the Aſſes, to rule over the Hebrews.

Notwithſtanding all theſe fore-mentioned Honour and Vertue conjoyned, outſhine ſolitary Merit. Preſidents, I would not have any man conceive me to be ſo ſimple, that I believe not two good things together are better then one ſingle, that Deſert, and Noble Bloud conjoyn'd, farre outſhine ſolitary Merit. As the pureſt bloud alwayes reſorts to the Heart as the firſt liver, and the laſt dier, and the nobleſt part of the Body: ſo for the moſt part Perfections and Graces, as the Requiſites of Honour, make their repaire to the more Honourable of Mankinde. Abortion ſounds not ſo ſtrangely in our eares as degenerating, becauſe the former is cōmon, the later not. We not very often, ſee any man of a Noble ſtrain in whom we detect not ſome Impreſſion, ſome ſeeds of his Parents worth, which in time ſpring up, bud, and flouriſh in him. Lightly, he who is well borne ponders with himſelfe whether or no, his Predeceſſours acquired their Dignitie by Arts, or Armes, which once knowne he ſeeks by the ſame meanes at leaſt to preſerve, if not to increaſe the Honour they have left him.

If our Hodiernall Nobility would ſpend ſome Arts & Arms ſhould be the ſtudy of the more Noble. time in this Meditation, and diligently exerciſe themſelves both in Letters, and Armes, their Honour would not be aſſail'd on all ſides by the Vulgar as at this day it is, and it would no longer appeare as in ſome it does, a meere ſhadow of a conſumed Body. The Emperour Adrian Succeſſour both in the Empire, and Vertue to Trajan, (equally an Enemy to Vice, and Sloth) uſed to ſay, that it was not decent to ſee a young Gentleman without a Book in one hand to teach him Wiſdome, and a Sword in the other to defend the ſame againſt all Barbarians whatſoever. So amiable was the Conjunction of both theſe in his ſight, that he did never eat without two ſtanding by him of ſeverall Abilities, one to diſcourſe to him of the ſecrets of Nature, the other of Stratagems of Warre. And that this was the Cuſtome of the other Emperours, appeares by the two Maſters of Nero, Burrhus, and Seneca, the one a Martialiſt, the other a Philoſopher. Charlemaine, Lewis the Debonaire, Saint Lewis and others had them in ſuch eſteeme, that they held the joyning of them together as neceſſary, as the linking of the Husband, and the Wife.

The Politickes diſpute which of theſe two ſhould have the Precedencie, but in the end give it to the Gowne, in that Good Letters can inſtructus in the Military Diſcipline, but Armes cannot impart the Knowledge of the Arts.

I may ſeeme to ſome to have dwelt too long on this weighty, and neceſſary Argument of Honour in Generall, whoſe pardon I crave, and ſo proceed in my Method to treate of his Nobilitie by Race, who is now my deplored Theam.

I am utterly void of all inſight in Heraldry, and therefore can write nothing in this kinde, ſave what I have upon truſt, but that little I ſhall deliver ſhall be back'd with great Authorities. That his Anceſtors have been Dukes, I am confident, every man hath heard, but how great in Authority, and Revenue it may be all men apprehend not. I am inform'd by a Knight skilfull and Excellent not only in our Engliſh, but Forraigne Heraldry alſo, that the Dukes of Buckingham have been ſo great, that Earles have been the Stewards of their Houſes, and that they have The Dukes of Buckingham, have beene ſo great that Earles have bin Stewards of their Houſes. diſburſed eight hundred pounds yeerly old Rent in Penſions to Earles, Barons, Knights, and Gentlemen. To this worthy Teſtatour of their Greatneſſe, I ſhall yet adde a far greater: namely, the Right Honorable Henry Earle of Northampton, a Lord ſo omniſcient that he ſeem'd to all learned men living in his time, A walking Athens. In a ſpeech of his contain'd in a Booke entituled, The Arraignment of the Traitours, his formall words are theſe. It was a Monke of Henton, that ſeduc'd the late Duke of Buckingham, to the Ruine of as great a Name as any Subject in Europe (excepting onely the Sirname of a King) can demonſtrate, by which I receive a blemiſh, and all thoſe that deſcend from him. This is enough for mee, in that I cannot blazon Coates, nor draw Pedigrees, and becauſe I am unwilling to diſparage ſome whoſe Names the Staffords bore in former times, and afterwards forſooke them as ſomwhat too obſcure, and low, for their lofty deeds.

Wee have all this while dwelt in the Suburbs, wee will now enter the Citie, and glad our eyes with the ſplendour of it. Imagine all the premiſes to bee but the Curtain, which now being drawne wee will gaze on the Beautifull Piece, his Life, ſo pure and innocent to the outward ſight (in Gods eye who can be juſtified?) that what was ſaid of Scipio Naſsica, may be applyed to him, Nihil in vita niſi laudandum aut dixit, aut fecit; Through his whole Life he never did, or ſpake any thing that was not commendable.

The firſt care of his Excellent Parents was to His pious Education. let him know there was a God that made him, and they taught him by geſture to acknowledge this Truth, ere hee could by ſpeech. The erection of his eyes, and Hands ſpake for him ere his Tongue could. To learne the Arts, and Sciences requires a convenient Ripeneſſe of Age, but it fares not ſo with Religion which is to be ſuck'd in with the Mothers, or Nurſes Milke. A Veſſell Religion is to be ſuckt in with the milke. reteines long the ſent of that wherewith it is firſt ſeaſon'd, and therefore hee was taught to name, and know his Heavenly Father before his Earthly. When he came to have the uſe of ſpeech, hee was inſtructed every morning with an humble heart, and in a ſubmiſſive phraſe to crave the conduct, and ſafeguard of God for that Day, and in the ſame lowly Language to implore his Almighty protection for the enſuing Night. Then was hee carried into Gods ſacred Temple there to offer up prayers, and Vowes due to his Maker. True it is, that we not only ſee, but handle God in his Creatures, but we no where ſpeak univocally, and unanimouſly to him, nor hee at all to us but in his Church.

And that hee might judge of Religion and His learned Education. Goodneſſe aright, theſe his ſolicitous Parents gave him a learned Education: for though Learning be not the Adaequate Cauſe of Vertue, Though learning be not the Adaequate cauſe of Vertue, it is the adjuvant. (that being Aſſuefaction in Goodneſſe) yet that it is the Adjuvant, all men not Contentious will eaſily grant. Some there be (who affirme) that Vertue cannot be taught, becauſe though the Intellect may be informed of the true forme of Vertue, yet the Will by this Inſtruction cannot be made flexible. Experience proving to us that many profoundly Learned, are withall damnably Wicked. But this falls out by accident, when Science meets with a perverſe, and depraved Nature. If we conſider Learning in it ſelfe, wee ſhall finde that though it doe not neceſſarily engender Vertue, yet it moves, and enclines the Will to embrace it. To this alludes that of Ovid.

There are many forcible, convincing Reaſons, why a learned man is more apt to follow Vertue then an unlearned. Amongſt many other I will onely produce four. The firſt is, that by ſtudying the Arts, and Sciences the thoughts of man are averted from dwelling on corporeall things, the ordinary objects of his Affections, and by that means the occaſions are cut off, that uſually allure him to be enamour'd on Vice. Secondly, he who is a curious ſearcher into the Nature, and cauſes of things, judgeth of them aright, and eſteemes them as they are. Hence it comes to paſſe, that he magnifies things truly great, and contemnes thoſe equally baſe, and is nothing at all moved with ſuch Events as in the Vulgar beget Terror, and Aſtoniſhment. Thirdly, through the Knowledge of things Naturall, and Supernaturall, hee diſcernes many cauſes why wee ſhould adhere to Vertue, and deteſt Vice: For hee who underſtands the Nature and Excellencie of God, will deſire to be like him, and hee who knows that God hath created all things under the Sunne for him, will be enflam'd with a divine love towards him, and approve himſelfe gratefull, and ſerviceable to this his Heavenly Benefactour. Likewiſe hee who eſpies in the bruite creatures themſelves Images of Vertues, in ſome that of Fortitude, in others that of Temperancie, and Chaſtitie, in all an Inſtinct, and Induſtry in undergoing thoſe Offices they are made for, and which are proper to them, will eaſily be induced to thinke it a ſhame, and diſhonour to him, if he (having the uſe of Reaſon, and having the ſtampe of the Deity upon him) ſhould be found defective in his Duty. Fourthly, and laſtly, Learning layes before us the true Forme of Vertue, and furniſheth us with Examples of brave accompliſh'd men, with the rewards, and Glory they purchas'd by their Perfections: and on the contrary, the ignominious, and horrid ends of ſuch as have liv'd, and died mancipated to their owne ſordid, enormous Imperfections, the Meditation whereof will render a knowing man an Admirer of Goodneſſe, and a loather of Wickedneſſe.

They who are ſo obſtinate as to reject theſe Reaſons in favour of Good Letters, will ſurely be ore-borne, and have their Judgements rectified, and reform'd by the Authoritie of great Men, who have declared themſelves Fautours of Erudition. This Example of Alexander, ſubjecting Great men have declared themſelves fautors of Learning. himſelfe to bee the Diſciple of Ariſtotle, ſhall bee the Leader. Before hee attempted the ſubduing of the World, hee deſired to know what the World was, and it is likely that the knowledge of it invited him to the conqueſt thereof. How he doted on Homers Works is notorious even to Dablers in Story. The ſame Alexander it was, who would have no difference of Habit betweene the Grecian and the Barbarian, ſaying, that their knowledge, and their ignorance, were markes ſufficient to diſtinguiſh them. That incomparable Prince Alphonſus King of Spain, Sicily, and Naples, (Coetanian with Charles the Seventh of France) after he had once read in Saint Auguſtine, that an illiterate King was no other then an Aſſe crowned, had ignorance in ſuch deteſtation, that where ever hee went, and at all times whether in Warre, or Peace, hee endevour'd both by Reading, and Conference, to better his Underſtanding, and at ſo high a rate he valued Science that hee gave for his Creſt, A Book open. It was a frequent ſaying with him, That his dead Counſellours, his Books, were to him farre better then the living, ſince they without flattery, Feare, or baſhfulneſſe, preſented to him Truth naked without any diſguiſing Coverture. I ingeniouſly confeſſe, I never reade that ſpeech of Solon, without infinite delight, who lying on his Death-bed, & over-hearing ſome of his learned Viſitants deſputing and deciding ſome ſubtile queſtion or other, attentively liſtned to their Diſputation, which a ſtander by obſerving, demanded of him why he now ready to leave the world, ſhould give eare to their diſcourſe: to whom he made this anſwer, worthy to be treaſured up in all memories; Ut cum illud audiero moriar doctior. That when I have heard that poynt diſcuſs'd, I may dye the more learned. Ariſtippus being demanded by one, in what his ſonne ſhould bee better'd if he learnt the Arts, and Sciences; anſwer'd. Etſi nulla alia in re, nequit, certè vel in hoc, quod in Theatro non ſedebit lapis ſupra lapidem: If in nothing elſe, ſaith he, yet truely in this, that hee ſhall not ſit in the Theater one ſtone upon another. The ſame Philoſopher often proteſted that hee had rather bee a Begger than a Foole, in that the former onely wants money, the latter humanity. Antiſthenes confounded the ſtudious, and the noble, and admoniſh'd his Scholars, that learning was the only Viaticum, that in ſtormes and ſhipwracke when all things elſe periſh'd, would boy up in ſpight of evill Fortune. Ariſtotle was ſo great a ſtudent, that when he went to reſt, he uſed to hold in his hand a Ball of Braſſe over a large Baſon of the ſame Mettall, that when hee ſlept, the noyſe of the Ball falling into the Baſon might awaken him. To one who asked him how the Learned differ'd from the ignorant, hee replyed, ut Viventes a Mortuis: As the Living from the Dead. Hee would often repeate this his owne ſpeech, That Learning was an Ornament in proſperity, in adverſity a Refuge; and that Tutors were farre to bee preferr'd by Children, before Naturall Parents, becauſe they received from the later the benefit of living onely: but from the former the felicity of living well, and bleſſedly. I dwell the longer on this poynt that it may ſerve as an Admonition to all parents, eſpecially the more Noble to beſtow on their Children a breeding anſwerable to their Birth. In elder times, a Sonne was diſcharged in all duty of obeying, comforting, and relieving his parents in their Age, if he could prove that they had neglected to inſtruct him in his Youth. The Ancients held, that they who provided Lands, and ample poſſeſſions for their poſterity on whom to beſtow a learned Education, they would would not be at the charge, reſembled a ſilly fellow, that hath more care of his ſhooes than his feete. They thought that the heaping up of Riches for a flat-witted Coxecombe, who knowes not how to uſe them, was as if a faire ſweete Lute ſhould bee preſented to one who knowes not how to make it ſpeake harmoniouſly. They deemed ignorance to bee at beſt but a dead Sepulcher, in which many were buried alive.

Of the ſame minde were the tender parents of this ſweet young Lord, and therefore inceſſantly exhorted him to be carefull rather of augmenting his Knowledge than his Eſtate, whom he readily obeyed, his ambition & their will being like two Lines that meete in one Center. The firſt ſhew of his inclination to vertue, was his love to Science, and her Favourites, which I may properly call the entry to that future Glory which vertue intended him, and Time deprived him of. Though he had Lands to till, he forgot not to manure his mind: Some by neceſſity are conſtrained to ſtudy hard, he by delight was invited to his Book. He was none of thoſe who imagine all that time loſt which they loſe not, accounting all thoſe Houres miſ-ſpent which they take from their pleaſures, & give to their ſtudies. He would praiſe every man that aſpir'd to Knowledge, whether hee were his ſuperiour, his inferiour, or his equall in Learning. His Superiour had his beſt words as his due, becauſe he deſerved them. His equall he would not deſpiſe, leſt he ſhould be thought to undervalue himſelfe; and his inferiour hee would not contemne or inſult over: for he held it no glory to excell the inglorious. The very deſire of Learning he thought laudable in any man, much more the Acquiſition of it. It was an infallible Maxime with him, that except thoſe Eternall Workes of the ſoule, wee can properly call nothing ours, in that all other things wee leave behind us find other owners. He therefore labour'd that by a barbarous Ignorance hee made not a forfeit of an Inheritance ſo ineſtimable as is a faire Fame, which was able to make all the ſurvivours of his name happy ſharers in that honour poſterity ſhall pay him. But what was the ſcope of his ſtudy? was it accutely to ſcold and wrangle, after the manner of the Times? No, his thoughts could not but bee at peace, whoſe ſpirit was compoſed of nothing but ſweetneſſe and mildneſſe. Was it to pry into the unrevealed Myſteries of the Deity? Nothing leſſe; for hee had found that many ſecrets in Nature, remaine yet unexplicable, much more then are thoſe of God inſcrutable, and impenitrable by any humane eye. He had purus'd the Fable of the Poets, which tells us that Minerva ſtrooke Tyreſias blind, for beholding her naked. The Morall is full, and ſignificant, implying that the Deity muſt not be over-curiouſly ſearcht into. Was it for Vaine-glory, and to learne things more curious than profitable? No, he could not be proud of Knowledge, who underſtood that man was ignorant, and a ſtranger to himſelfe, till God reveal'd him to himſelfe. He learnt nothing being a Child, that would not prove advantagious to him being a Man. He hated ſuperfluous Science, and made choiſe of ſuch Authors onely as may inſtruct, not diſtract his minde. He knew it fared with the ſoule as with the body, which is not nouriſh'd by the greedy devouring of much, but the good digeſtion of a little. He made, according to the Proverbe, no more haſte than good ſpeed, finding, that to come to the end of a long journey required not to runne a pace, but to be ever going. Was it language and words he onely hunted after? Neither of thoſe, for he loved the Kirnell farre better than the ſhell. If none of theſe, what then was the aime of his ſtudy? ſurely nothing but vertue, which hee knew to bee Res, non Verbum, as one ſayes, A Thing, not a Wordonely. And underſtanding that the Poets feigne her to have ſhort armes, inferring, that he who covets to be embrac'd by her, muſt make a neare approach to her before hee can come within her reach, and attaine to that ſupreame Happineſſe; he came ſo cloſe up to her, and convers'd ſo frequently with her, that all his actions ever after ſavour'd of her ſweetneſſe. Her hee made his ſupporter, knowing that ingenious Antiquity repreſented her to us by a Hieroglyphick γ, whoſe toppe parts two wayes, and reſembles a Musket Reſt, to denote the aide and ſupport ſhee affords thoſe that put their truſt in her. And becauſe ſhe divides her ſelfe into many branches, whereof ſome are divine, ſome morrall, he reſolved ſeriouſly, and intentively to practiſe, firſt the former then the later. The three Theologicall hee firſt choſe to exerciſe himſelfe in, were Humility, Obedience, and Charity; and that taske ended, hee purpoſed to make a ſtrong Eſſay to gaine a habit in all the Cardinall, and leſſer Morall Vertues. In the ſervice of theſe he made a vow to ſpend the remainder of his dayes, ſetting apart the vertues of Italy, where every Painter, Dancer, Toothdrawer, and Mountebanke is cald a Vertuoſo.

Here his religious parents ſtept in againe to his ayde, who did not imitate the Images of Mercury ſet up in times paſt in the common Roades, with the fore-finger poynting out the way to paſſengers, but ſtanding ſtill themſelves, not bearing them company. This loving couple (as happy in themſelves, as in him) were his guides not onely by Advice, but Action.

The reaſon why hee beganne with Humility was, that it render'd him more apt and able to Humillity extolled in it ſelfe and him. acquire the reſt, and was the vertue his, and our bleſſed Maſter commenc'd and ended with, and all the Saints in imitation of him have ſtudied, and with diligence put in practice. Our ſweeteſt Saviour forbade his Diſciples to divulge his miracles, leaſt the World might thinke he gloryed in them, as appeares by his cure of the Leprous, of the Blind, of the Lame, and of the Dumbe, &c. In his Transfiguration hee gave them the ſame charge; Reveale this Viſion to no body. His Diſciples demanding who ſhould be the greateſt in the Kingdome of Heaven, he anſwered, Whoſoever ſhall humble himſelfe like one of theſe little ones, ſhall bee greateſt there. What taught he but Humility, when hee ſaid, When thou art invited to a wedding, take not the firſt place at the Table. What can perſwade a man ſooner to avoyd Vaine-glory, and to enrole himſelfe amongſt the ſervants of Humility, than his moving example of the Phariſee, and the Publican? He made choiſe to bee conceived of a poore humble Mother, and to bee borne not onely in no remarkable Country, but in a Stable, where beaſts onely were witneſſes of his Birth. Thirty yeares hee lurked in the World, in ſomuch that we read little or nothing of him in all that time, ſave that when hee was twelve yeares old, hee was found hearing, interrogating, and determining in the Temple. About his thirtieth yeare hee ſent not for Saint Iohn Baptiſt, but came to him, and demanded Baptiſme at his hands: wherein wee learne a profitable leſſon for the proud, who diſdaine to viſite their Inferiours. Hee that came from Heaven ſcorn'd not to wait on earth, on his owne ſervant: and ſhall inſolent men who live on earth, and are made of earth, ſcorne or grudge to give each other a viſite? He began his preaching in the ſame humble manner as John did, Repent, &c. He intruded not into the Nuptials of the rich and lofty, but of the meeke, and penurious, where Wine was wanting. When hee underſtood they meant to make him a King, hee flew into the Mountaines to conceale himſelfe. He being Lord of all things, paid Tribute as a ſervant. Hee travailed commonly on foot, and when he was weary, hungry, and dry, his lodging and fare were little better then that of the irrationall Creatures. This is with eaſe proved, for he complains himſelfe, that hee hath not a houſe to put his head in: and wee finde that when hee was faint and thirſty, hee had no other repoſe then on the ground, nor no other drinke then that pure Water drawne for him, by that purer Samaritan. Hee elected humble Diſciples, and preached to them Humility. Hee ſaid not to them, Be Omnipotent as I am Omnipotent, Be Wiſe as I am Wiſe; No, no, his Doctrine flew a lower pitch, and was delivered in a more ſtooping phraſe, Be humble, as I am humble. He named himſelfe the ſonne of man, oftner then the ſonne of God, and though hee was truly both, in that he participated of both Natures, yet hee choſe his Denomination oftner from the inferiour nature then from the ſuperiour. Hee made his Entry into Hieruſalem, not like a Triumpher in a Chariot, nor on a proud Courſer with rich Trappings, but on a ſily Aſſe void of rich Furniture. Being to depart out of this World, that he might leave behind him an unequall'd and unheard of Example of Humilitie, he waſh'd his Diſciples feet, and wip'd them with the linnen cloth wherewith hee was girt. Laſtly, every circumſtance of his Paſſion relliſheth humilitie. Did the Saints digreſſe a whit from this path trod by their Redeemer? Surely no, one proofe whereof we have in St. John Baptiſt, whoſe thoughts, deeds, and words were all humble. The Iewes enquiring of him whether hee were Chriſt, or a Prophet, he anſwered negatively to both: whereas our Saviour proteſteth that the Humane Race could never boaſt of a greater then he. Hee aſſumed no higher a ſtile then, I am the voice in the Wilderneſſe, &c. His Diet, his Raiment, and his Lodging were all contemptible. How often did that faire recover'd Bankerupt of all Grace, Mary Magdalene, fall at our Saviours feet, and waſh them with her teares? After the miraculous cure of the lame by Peter; his ſpeech was lowly, not attributing the fact to himſelfe, but to the divine Vertue, and the Invocation of the Name of JESUS. When upon his entry into Caeſaria, Cornelius meeting him fell at his feet, hee rais'd him up, ſaying, I am a man alſo as thou art. Paul, and Barnabas hearing that the Inhabitants of the City of Lyſtris, concluded they were Gods and reſolved to ſacrifice to them, cut their garments in pieces, and running into the midſt of the Throng, cried out; What mean you to do? Wee are no other then poore Mortals, as you are; Yet with this their clamour could they hardly keep the ſuperſtitious people from ſacrificing to them. Paul ſubmitted himſelfe to learne of Aquila, and Priſcilla, the Art of Tent-making, and got his living by it. This laſt, but moſt learned of the Apoſtles, was a ſubmiſſive petitioner for the prayers of others. I beſeech you Brethren, ſaith he, even in the Name of our Lord Ieſus Chriſt, and the Charitie of the Holy Ghoſt, to aſſiſt me with your Prayers. In other places hee termeth himſelfe the leaſt of the Apoſtles, and profeſſeth that he deſerveth not the name of an Apoſtle. In his Epiſtle to Timothy, hee deſcendeth yet lower; Ieſus, ſaith hee, came into the world to ſave Sinners, whereof I am the chiefe. Of the ſame Humility relliſh theſe his meeke formes of ſpeech, Not aſpiring to height of Knowledge, and thinking themſelves ſuperiours to one another onely in Humilitie. Armatura tutiſſima animi Modeſtia, ſaith Saint Baſil, A modeſt humble minde is an Armour of proofe. Wittily Saint Bernard, As the morning Light is a ſure ſigne that the Sun is entring into our Hemiſpheare; ſo the very dawne of Humility in any man, is an infallible Token of approaching Grace. This is the Vertue that ſweetens all the reſt, and a good Frame, and ſecuritie ever attend it. By this the holy Martyrs have triumph'd over Tyranny, and Death, and by it have obtain'd the eternall Crown of Glory they now weare. He who void of Humility, ſeeks to engroſſe other Vertues, doe like him who gathereth duſt to throw it againſt the winde. This Vertue never entred into the Heads or Hearts of the Heathen. Nulla tanta eſt Humilitas, (ſaith Valerius Maximus) quae dulcedine Gloriae non tangatur: There is no Humilitie ſo great, as to be altogether ſenſeleſſe of the ſweetneſſe of Glory. Humilis ſatis eſt (they be the words of Livy) qui aequo jure ſatis vivit, nec inferendo injuriam, necpatiendo etiam: He is humble enough, who is a juſt obſerver of this equall Law, neither to act, nor ſuffer an injury. To theſe I may adde that of Iſocrates; Legi, Principi, & ſapientiori cedere modeſtum eſt: It is the part of a modeſt humble man to ſubject himſelfe to the Law, his Prince, and thoſe in wiſdome above him. The Philoſophers in the beginning were ſo proud as to aſſume to themſelves the ſtile of Wiſemen, Pythagoras being the firſt, (as witneſſeth Laertius) that modeſtly called himſelf a Philoſopher, that is, a Lover of Wiſdome. Socrates, indeed, ſeemed to look towards Humility, when hee ſaid, Hoc tantum ſcio me nihil ſcire: I onely know this that I know nothing. But this was ſpoken reſpectively, that what hee knew, was nothing in reſpect of that whereof he was ignorant. The Stoicall, Magniloquent Sect uttterly excluded Humility, and the Cynick though hee appeared ſordid and abject, was thought by other Sects as inwardly haughty as hee was outwardly dejected, which was intimated by his ſpeech, who ſaid to one of them, That hee eſpied his pride through the hole in his Cloake. The Poets went this way altogether, as farre as they,

As ſaith the Horace, and Seneca in his Thyeſte; addeth,

In this ſubmiſſive Vertue this our ſweete Bud of Honour grew to ſuch a height, that hee had many noble Emulatours who aſpired to climbe to the ſame degree. Hee made Mans miſerable condition the Mirrour wherein his Humilitie beheld her ſelfe. Hee rightly conceived, that as the Tree that growes high muſt take deep root: ſo the Minde that aſcends to God muſt firſt proſtrate it ſelfe before him. His ſanctified ſoule (if her Creatour accepted of her poore endevours) was altogether careleſſe of the applauſe of men, like a chaſte Spouſe, who being raviſh'd with the delight ſhe takes in the kiſſes and embraces of her Huſband, is nothing at all mindfull or carefull of the frownes, or favours of others: yet did ſhe humbly comply with all men as farre as the Service, and Honour of her Maker would give her leave.

This Vertue prepar'd him to receive the yoke of Obedience, which he readily put on, and never Obedience commended in it ſelfe, and him. after diſobediently caſt off. He was conformable in all things to the Word of God, the Church, his Prince, Parents, Tutours, and Superiours That there was a God hee learn'd from the Order, and Beauty of the Univerſe, which to attribute to the Vertue, or power of things created were to aſcribe the motion of the wheel to the wheele it ſelfe, or the Excellencie of an Image to the Penſill. Hee ſaw nothing that put him not in minde of God, but being admitted to be a member of his myſticall Body, his Church, he there ſaw him more cleerly, ſpake to him, and receiv'd from him his divine beheſts, of which he forth with vowed himſelfe a moſt obedient, and religious obſerver.

The Duty hee owed his Parents, Nature had His obedience to his parents. ingrafted in him, and Grace had aſſured him that hee deſerves neither the ſtile of Noble, nor of Man, who neglects to bee dutifull to thoſe to whom he owes his Life, and Being. A reverence to theſe in-ſeated in the Bloud. Two ſtrange demonſtrations of this Veritie wee finde in Livie, and Valerius Maximus. The firſt is, that Marcus Two rare examples of filiall duty, and pietie. Pomponius having accuſed Lucius Manlius of cruelty to Titus Manlius his ſonne, the ſaid Titus went to the Houſe of Pomponius then Tribune, and with his Sword drawne, threatned to kill him, unleſſe hee would ſweare to let the Proceſſe fall againſt his Father, and forced him to take that Oath. The later in Valerius Maximus, is of a Woman condemned to die by Famine, whom her Daughter then a Nurſe (having leave daily to viſit her Mother) nouriſhed with her milke, which pious deceit of hers being detected, bred that relenting, and aſtoniſhment in the hearts of the Judges, that they not only pardoned the Mother, but in memory of this pious, dutifull fact of the Daughter, razed the Priſon to the ground, and erected in the ſame place a Temple to Pietie. Diceret aliquis, ſaith Valerius, hoc eſſe contra legem Naturae, niſi Naturae prima lex eſſet diligere parentes: A man would ſay, that for the Daughter to give ſuck to the Mother were a thing prepoſterous, and againſt Nature, were it not that the firſt Law of Nature is to love our Parents. Ariſtotle affirmes, that the Storks nouriſh their Dammes, in way of a gratefull recompenſation of their care, and pains in breeding them. Quicquid praeſtiti, ſaith Seneca, infra aeſtimationem Paterni Muneris eſt: What ever I have perform'd, comes ſhort of the Benefits for which I ſtand a Debtor to my Father. None but Monſters of Ingratitude forget ſuch bleſſings as theſe.

His Tutours he honour'd and obey'd, not for feare of puniſhment, but love of Diſcipline. Hee His obedience to his Tutors. ſufferd not himſelfe to be hail'd, and dragg'd to his Book, but was as ſedulous in learning as his Maſters in teaching, who (no doubt) had told him that the Muſes love a ſmiling Schollar, not one who lowers on them, and beholds the Schoole with the ſame countenance Malefactors looke on the Gibbet. I cannot ſay whether his alacrity in receiving, or his care in executing his Tutors commands were the greater.

The eſteeme of the holy Prophets, Apoſtles, and Fathers of the Church had this Vertue in ought to advance it much in our eſteeme. God bound man to obedience preſently after his creation in the ſtate of innocencie, the breach whereof hee ſeverely puniſh'd. Noah readily obey'd all Gods commands when the Floud was at hand. The ſwift obedience of Abraham was admirable, when without any delay at all, he made haſte to ſacrifice his ſonne, and with his owne hands to let out his own blood. It is worthy our obſervation, that when ever the Children of Iſrael, or any of Gods ſervants fought with, or againſt his will, they had accordingly good, or bad ſucceſſe. God told that if hee willingly executed all his precepts, hee would ever fixe the Throne of his Kingdome in Hieruſalem: but on the contrary, if he did not perform them, he would cut Iſrael from off the face of the earth. Therefore, ſaith S. Gregory, is obedience better then ſacrifice, becauſe by ſacrifice anothers fleſh, but by obedience our own wils are ſubdued, ſlaine, and offerd up to the Almightie. An obedient man, ſaith Saint Bernard, deferres not the execution of a command, but ſtraight prepares his eares to heare, his Tongue to ſpeake, his feet to walke, his hands to worke, and all his thoughts are fix'd on the will of his Commander. And in another place, the ſame Father ſaith, That there is, no doubt, but hee deſerves more grace, and favour, who prepares and makes himſelfe readie to receive a command, then hee who willingly executes the ſame. To this alludes that of Plantus,

And that of Terence,

Wee will conclude this point with that which Ovid ſpeaks of Achilles.

The next that preſents it ſelfe to our view is Charity, a Vertue that will uſher any man to Charitie praiſed in it ſelfe, and him. Gods preſence, who is ambitious of that greateſt of Glories. This Love is the King of all the paſſions of the ſoule, and motions of the Heart, he attracts all the reſt to him, and renders them conformable to himſelfe. His Eſſence conſiſts in doing good works readily, diligently, frequently. Let us heare that excellent Father Saint Auguſtine magnifie this Vertue. In Charity, ſaith hee, the poore are rich, and without it the rich are poor. This ſuſtaines us in adverſitie, tempers us in proſperity, fortifies us againſt unruly paſſions, and makes us joyfully do good works. This was it made Abel delightfull in Sacrifice, Noah ſecure in the Floud; Abraham faithfull in his peregrination, Moſes merry amidst injuries, and David meek in tribulation. This made the fire a playfellow to the Children in the Furnace. This cauſed Suſanna to be chaſt above the temptations of man. Anna after the uſe of man, and the bleſſed Virgin without the knowledge of man. This animated Paul to be free in arguing, Peter humble in obeying, the Chriſtians gentle in their confeſſions, and Chriſt himſelfe prone to pardon ſinners. What ſhall I ſay? ſhould I ſpeake with the tongues of men, and Angels, and want Charitie I were nothing, it being the ſoule of Divine Knowledge, the Vertue of Propheſie, the ſalvation contained in the Sacraments, the fruit of Faith, the riches of the poore, and the life of the dying. He addes, A man may have all the Sacraments and yet be evill, but he cannot have Charitie and be ſo. Againe, Science if it be alone, is puffed up with pride, but becauſe Charitie edifies, ſhe ſuffers not Knowledge to ſwell. He calls it in another place, the cement of ſoules, and the ſocietie of the Faithfull. Saint Hierome commends it to us in theſe words. I do not remember any one hath died an ill death, who willingly perform'd the Works of Charity: the reaſon is becauſe hee hath many Interceſſours, and it is a thing impoſſible that the prayers of many ſhould not penetrate the ſacred eares of God. Sweetly, ſaith St. Gregory. As many boughs ſpring from one root; ſo many Vertues are deriv'd from Charitie alone, in which not rooted, no branch of goodneſſe can flouriſh. To theſe Suffrages, I will adde that of Hugo, O divine Charitie, I know not how I ſhould ſpeake more in thy prayſe, then that thou didſt draw God from Heaven to Earth, and didſt exalt Man from Earth to Heaven. Needs muſt thy force be great, ſince by thee God was ſo humbled, and Man ſo exalted.

In ſo few yeares as fourteene, a man can expect onely a propenſion to this, and all other Vertues: yet he that looks for no ſmall progreſſe in this, and moſt of the other (for the practice of ſome are not incident to that tender age) ſhall not have his expectation deceiv'd. For his Charity, I may truly averre, that it was extenſive not onely to his friends, and acquaintance, but to the poore, to ſtrangers, and enemies alſo. Some friends he choſe both for ſupport, and ornament, His love to his Friends. as appeares by his love, and imitation of his truly good, and great Guardian, the Earle of Arundell, Lord Marſhall of England, for no ſooner had age ripened his judgement, but hee elected him for the object of his affections, and the modell of his actions. A copy drawne from ſo faire an originall, you will ſay could not prove deform'd. Others hee choſe for delight, and all hee lov'd with a heart wherein Truth kept her Court. Some he would to his power ſo ſuddenly, ſecretly, and cunningly relieve, that they often times found their wants ſupplyed, before they knew from whence the benefit came, reſembling in this a Phyſician, who cures his patient unawares, before he dreams of a recovery. Hee approved that ſpeech of Diogenes, Manus ad amicos non complicatis digitis extendi oportere: That a cloſed hand is not to bee reached out to a Friend. Where he diſcovered a compleat worth, he diſdained not to be a ſuitor, and firſt to make an offer of his ſervice, in imitation of a Huſbandman, who firſt tilleth, and ſoweth the ground, and then expects the fruit of his labour. His word, and the effect of it, were as inſeparable as heat and fire. This true property of a Gentleman the Ancients decipher'd to us, when they painted a Tongue bound faſt to a Heart. He was no importunate, or ſevere Exactor of the returne of a love anſwerable in greatneſſe to his owne; wiſely, and nobly conſidering that hee is no true friend who is alwayes no more a friend then his friend is.

Marry (I muſt confeſſe) hee was exceedingly His curioſitie in the choice of his friends. curious, and cautious in his choice, following in that the counſell of Bias the Philoſopher, Amicos ſequere quos non pudeat elegiſſe: Follow ſuch friends whom to have choſen you need not be aſham'd. Hee applauded that of Anacharſis, Multo melius eſt amicum unum egregium quam gregarios multos poſſidere. It is farre better to enjoy one brave Friend then many meane and vulgar. Hee knew that they who in haſte, and without mature adviſe contract friendſhip, ſuffer the ſame inconveniencie as they do, who greedily and haſtily devoure ſundry meates which they can neither quickly with eaſe and ſafety caſt up, nor retaine. He diſcreetly weighed, that friendſhip made with the wicked, is as unſtable Vice, the Baſis whereon it is built. As the Ocean with great labour ſtrives to worke all dead bodies to the ſhore; ſo a generous friendſhip expells all ſuch as are loſt, and dead in ſinne. It is not enough to be wiſe and good our ſelves, but we muſt not keepe the fooliſh and the wicked company, except we will incurre the cenſure of the World, and be our ſelves thought ſuch. Vice, and the Vitious he fought with, after the manner of the Parthians, flying. If his deareſt friend had ſolicited him to joyne with him in any act not warranted by Vertue, he would have anſwered him with Pericles, who to an intimate friend that woed him to forſware himſelfe in his behalfe, replyed; I am my friends friend as farre as the Altars. As if he ſhould had ſaid, I will paſſe for thee through all miſeries, dangers, and ſhipwracks, ſave that of Conſcience, which like a Maid of Honour, I muſt preſerve inuiolated, and immaculate.

As he was extreamly nice, and carefull, not to entertaine debauch't friends, ſo was hee alſo reſolv'd A herd of Friends hee lov'd not. not to admit of many. He was not ignorant that a River which hath many Armes, and out-lets, is alwayes in danger of being low, and drye. Plutarch maintaines, hee cannot be faithfull, and honeſt, who hath a herd of friends, becauſe many may want his Faith, and aſſiſtance at one and the ſame time, to all which hee cannot bee ſerviceable. But thoſe he had once judicially choſen, and on whom he had fixed his affection hee ſtill regarded with the ſame countenance; whether they were in a flood, or an ebbe of Fortune, cleane contrary to the courſe of flaterers, and diſſemblers, who fawne on their friends in aboundance, and forſake them in penury, not unlike in this to Flies, which came in ſwarmes to a Kitchin full of fleſh, and abandon it empty.

His affection to his friends tooke nothing His love to the poore. from his care, and love of the poore. It was not hidden from him, that the chiefe worke of mercy, is to have pitty on a mans owne ſoule; hee therefore firſt endeavoured to mundifie his owne heart, knowing that God more than man reſpects the pure minde of the giver. True it is, he was in his Nonage, and had no great ſtore out of which his Liberallity ſhould flow, but all hee could ſpare Charity diſpos'd of. God Crownes the intent where he findes not the faculty. Legitimate Mercy proceedes not from a full purſe, but a free boſome. He that in his heart compaſſionates his neighbours infortunity, deſerves more of him, and in the ſight of God, than hee who gives him onely a materiall Almes, for hee who gives, parteth onely with his outward ſubſtance; but he who affords the indigent ſighes, teares, and groanes, imparts that which comes from within, from the very Center of the ſoule. He kept to himſelfe onely what was neceſſary, and the ſuperfluous he imparted to the Needy. Hee piouſly meditated, that Poverty is a conſecrated Field, that quickly returnes the ſower a plentifull harveſt. It fares with ſpirituall, as with temporall Husbandry, unleſſe ſeed be ſcattered, no encreaſe can be expected. He laid up his Treaſure in his true eternal Country, Heaven: He thought continually that he heard the voice of his Saviour thus ſaying. I was thy Benefactor, now make me thy Debtour, become my Vſurer, and thou ſhalt centuply receive the Summe thou disburſeſt. In obedience to his command he aſſiſted, as farre as in him lay, all that wanted. He that gives indifferently to all, ſhall ever bee mercifull, but he who ſits upon the Lifes of the poore, and judgeth them according to their faults, not their neceſſities, ſhall ſeldome or never doe good. We ought to caſt our eye on nature, not on the perſon, according to that of Ariſtotle, who being reprehended for ſuccouring a Lewd, but poore man, replyed, De Humanitati, non Homini. I give to Humane Nature, not to the man. He murders the poor, who denyes him that whereby he ſubſiſts. Moſt accurſed is he who ſhuts up in his Coffers the Health and Life of the diſtreſſed. In vain he lifts up his hands to heaven, who extends them not to the ſuccor of the afflicted. It is a lovely ruine, and a pleaſing ſpectacle to Chriſt, to ſee a devoute man undoe himſelf with his own hands, in freely and readily beſtowing al that he hath on the naked. But oh! it is deſervedly to be lamented that the whilome downy open hands of mercy are now ſhut, and brawny, and that moſt men either out of a flinty Nature, or out of a needleſſe feare to be thought Vaine-glorious leave to bee pious. To the former hard-hearted brood, whom no miſery of another can move. I wil ſay with Pliny, If they merit the Epithets of wiſe & valiant they ſhall not be denyed them, but we will never grant they ſhall be ſtiled wiſe, and valiant men Men, ſince they have unman'd themſelves, loſt their bowels, and caſt off all Humanity. The later, who make Vaine-glory their ſcruple, I can aſſure that the Benefit is not deſpicable before God, which is confirm'd in the ſight of men, but that which is done to the end men may ſee it.

From his proneſſe in giving, we now come His ready forgiving of injuries. to his readineſſe in forgiving, another office of Charity, executed with farre greater difficulty than any of the former. To love deſert in friends, or ſupply the wants of the needy, reaſon and Nature invite us, but to ſuffer diſgraces, and intollerable injuries from worthles men, is a thing they both abhorre: for that of Seneca is moſt true; Duplicat dolorem ſuſtinentis indignitas Inferentis. The griefe of the ſuſtainer is doubled by the indignity of the Afflictor. Appoſitively to this Cicero; Qui ſe non defendit, nec obſiſtit injuriae, ſipoteſt, tam eſt in vitio quam ſi parentes, aut amicos, aut patriam deſerat: Hee who defendeth not himſelfe, and repelleth not an injury, if he can, commits as great a crime as he that forſakes his Parents, Friends, or Countrey. It is a thing not very hard for fleſh and blood to rejoyce in God, and his Bleſſings, but very difficult it is to take pleaſure in all Slanders, Infamy, and Perſecutions for his ſake: for that gentle ſubmiſſive ſoule, into which Ambition, nor the leaſt thought of honour ever entered, would yet moſt gladly avoyd all abuſes, and diſhonours. But our now truely bleſſed one, the beloved Theme wee now handle, had learnt this holy humble Art of him, whoſe life was nothing but a continued paſſion. All injuries intended, or acted againſt himſelfe he could freely pardon: but thoſe which were directed againſt the Majeſty and dignity of his Maker, he could not endure. In ſuch a caſe a holy Fury becomes the Child of God. It favour'd in his opinion of more piety and wiſedome, to overcome a ſlight injury, that reached not to his Parentage, or Religion, with ſilence, than with a tart replye; having found in Story, that ſmall words have overthrowne great Cities. No wrong being equall to that which is done with reproach, and contumely, in that to an Heroicke Spirit the loſſe of blood is not ſo grievous as that of Reputation.

We will now deſcend from the Divine to the Valour magnified in it ſelfe and him. Morall Vertues; amongſt which Valour (according to the generall vulgar beliefe) is the firſt required in a Lord, or Cavallier. Therefore the Poets feigne the god of Warre himſelfe to bee borne in Thrace, becauſe the people of that Country are hardy, and couragious. This was to denote that Fortitude uſuall reſides amongſt men of a generous, and lofty ſtraine, whoſe Education leads them to knowledge in good Letters, which at once informes them of the Renown of their Anceſtors; and that the image of Fame was ever placed before the Temple of Mars, to intimate, that the great exploits of daring, and undaunted men, are by her carried into every corner of the earth. It will not bee amiſſe here to inſert the judgements of the Fathers of the Church, paſſed on this vertue. St. Auſtin ſhall be the Chorus: Qui vera virtuta fortis eſt nec temerè audet, nec in inconſultè timet. He who is truely valorous neither dares raſhly, nor feares unadviſedly. That of St. Hierome deſerves our obſervation. Fortitudo via Regia eſt, aqua declinat ad dextram qui temerarius eſt, & pertinax, ad ſiniſtram qui formodoloſus eſt, & pavidus: Fortitude is the Kings high way, from which he ſwarves on the right hand, who is foole hardy, and obſtinate: He on the left hand who is cowardly, and fearefull. Wiſely and pertinently Caſſiodorus. Vir vocatus, a viribus, qui neſcit in adverſis tolerādo deficere, aut in proſperis aliqua elatione ſe jactare, ſed animo ſtabili defixus, et Coeleſtium rerum contemplatione firmatur manet ſemper in pavibus. Man is ſo called from his ſtrong and manly mind, which knowes not how to faint in ſuffering adverſity, nor to boaſt & inſult in proſperity, but fixed in a ſtable reſolution, and confirmed by the contemplation of heavenly things remayns evermore feareleſſe. The Heathens themſelves differd not in opinion from theſe holy men, as Cicero teſtifies in his Rhetoricks: Sicut ſcientia remota juſtitia caliditas potius quàm ſapientia appellanda eſt: ſic animus ad periculum paratus ſi ſua cupiditate, non aliena utilitate impellitur Temeritatis potius nomen habet quam Fortitudinis: As Knowledge not accompanied with Juſtice, is rather to be called Craft then Wiſdome: ſo a minde readie to encounter danger, if it be driven thereunto by its owne deſire and pleaſure, not the publick profit, meriteth rather the name of Temerity then Valour. In the ſame place, hee thus defines Fortitude. Fortitudo eſt immobilis inter adverſa glorioſa animi claritudo res arduas pulchrè adminiſtrans, quae nec adverſis infeſtando frangitur, nec proſperis blandiendo elevatur: Fortitude is an unmoved glorious ſerenity of the mind fairly adminiſtring things difficult, which is neither broken nor dejected with the frowns of Fortune, nor puffed up with her ſmiles.

This Vertue is juſtly admir'd of all, truly underſtood, All men admire, few underſtand what valour is. and practiſed but by a few. Some think it valour to kill themſelves, ſome to injure and provoke others, and almoſt all believe that a valiant man ought to feare nothing. For the firſt, that a man ought not to lay violent hands on himſelfe all good Chriſtians conclude. Ariſtotle thus cryes, this ſelf-murther done: Mollitudinis eſt laborioſa fugere: It argues a man of Effeminacie to ſeek by Death to flie from the troubles, and labours of this life. This Philoſopher, and the Pythagoreans held that as a ſouldier ought not to leave his ſtation without the command of his Generall. So no man ſhould dare to goe out of this life without the leave of God, and Nature that gave it him. Wee will therefore ſpare the proofe of a thing ſo univerſally granted by all Chriſtians, and many Philoſophers. But withall the ſtrength of Divinity and Philoſophy, I ſhall never bee able to convince the greater part of Mankind of another errour almoſt as damnable as this, and that is a fooliſh, and pernicious Tenent, that they may lawfully ſend Challenges, and accept of them, though the occaſion of the quarrell be Wine, Dice, or proſtituted Women. Nay, many a man is the Martyr of Temperancie, and is kill'd becauſe hee will not exceſſively drinke. I knew two Gentlemen of great qualitie, and little wit, fall out in a Taverne upon a proteſtation of the greatneſſe of their mutuall love each to other. In this ardencie, each ſtrove for prioritie in affection. One ſaid, Thou art dearer to me then I to thee, whereupon the other replied with the Lie, and was run thorough in the place where he ſtood. Monſieur de la Noue a g •• lant and learned French Captaine demonſtrates the miſery of theſe Duels upon ſlight occaſions, by an infortunitie that befell himſelfe in the like caſe. Hee being importun'd by a Gentleman of his Nation, not Acquaintance, to be his Second; willingly, and thankfully condiſcended to his Requeſt; for, indeed, the French think themſelves never ſo much honour'd as when their friends value them at ſo high a rate, as to put their Honours, and Lives into their cuſtodie. Well, this brave Second aſſociated his Principall into the Field, where they were to fight two to two. He no ſooner arrived there, but with grief and horrour hee beheld his neereſt Kinſman, and deareſt friend hee had in the World ready to encounter him, as being the oppoſite Second. You may eaſily conceive, what a combat there was in his noble breſt betweene Honour and Affection, but the former being a Tyrant quickly overcame, and ſuppreſs'd the later, and violently hal'd this great Commander to combate his Friend, who there fell under his ſword. I will omit all other examples, for all come ſhort of this. Non mediocris animi eſt fortitudo, ſaith Saint Ambroſe, quae ſola defendit ornamenta virtutum omnium: Fortitude beares no meane dejected minde, which alone defends the Graces, and Ornaments of all the other Vertues. Sure I am, the moſt part of our Gentry put it to a cleane contrary uſe, and exerciſe it onely in the defence of Vice, and her deformed Litter. Theſe ſilly brothers of the Sword either by the force of Drinke, Fury, or Ignorance, are rendred as ſtupid as the Natives of Barbary are with the exceſſive eating of Opium, which hurries them into Quarrels, that Grace and Nature both tremble at. The Spartans ever before a battaile, tempered and allaid the choler of their Souldiers with the melodie of the Flute, and other inſtruments, that ſo their anger might not deface their Reaſon. We had need of ſome charming Muſick to qualifie the heate and rage of our Rorers. Hardly will they endure the Teſt of the Scripture, who cannot undergo that of Ariſtotle. Firſt, ſayes he, a valiant man fights not for feare of Infamy, or Reprehenſion. Secondly, not for the awe hee ſtands in of Military Diſcipline. Thirdly, not out of confidence of his skill in the Military Art, or of his own ſtrength and armature. Fourthly, not being urged thereto by the violence of naturall paſſions, as Anger, Griefe, Luſt, and the like. Fiftly, not out of ignorance of his enemies force, nor out of feare of ſervitude, or hope of bootie. Sixtly, a valiant man is the Champion of honeſtie; for which onely hee is to combate all that oppoſe it. He could not imagine any thing in excellencie above Honeſty, which he ſtill makes his utmoſt ſcope, not being ſo bleſſedly ſubtile as to diſcerne God and his Church. Examine wel all theſe Requiſites of Valour, and how many now a dayes ſhall we diſcover and allow valiant; moſt men fighting againſt all the Rules of Honeſty, and the Laws of God? If our Nobility and Gentry ſhall diligently peruſe ancient Hiſtories, they ſhall finde that their renowned Anceſtours never aſcended to the Throne of Honour this way. Debauſhes, Quarrels, and Duels were not the degrees by which they mounted. They ſingl'd not out an enemy in the field upon exchange of idle words, never drawing their ſwords but to reſcue their Countrey out of the jawes of Ruine, or their Prince from the Height of a Breach, or from the Centre of the Enemies Battalion. The Valour not thus nobly imploy'd, they reputed no other then a womaniſh choler, a ſimple paſſion and a feeble revenge unworthy of a man magnanimous. Certainly, our Gallants cannot but imagine the great Alexander, and the mightie Iulius to be nothing inferiour to them in this Vertue, yet did not they judge that a fooliſh haſtie word ſhould be put in ballance with a Life. Theſe Maſterſpirits of the World were utterly ignorant what reparation of Honour the Lie claimed, and of the circumſtances in managing a Quarrell, which theſe Hackſters make our yonger ſort believe to be a Myſtery, and by this ridiculous Science get their Livings. Thoſe great Worthies concluded that the offence alwayes return'd upon his head that offerd it. From theſe ſingle, bloudy Encounters, what can Gentlemen expect other then if they kill, to have their Lands confiſcated to the King, and (if married) to have their Wives and Children live by the ſuccour of the Knapſack, to leave infamy to their Poſterity, and to have no other Hiſtoriographer then the Hangman; whereas their lives loſt in a ſet Battaile, would make them ever live in the beſt Chronicles of theirs, and after times. Now ſuppoſe they fall themſelves under their enemies hands, what can enſue but a burial of their Names together with their bones, and (without Gods infinite extraordinary mercy) the damnation of their ſoules? Theſe Duels, and the Horſe-races of our Gentry ſo much in requeſt with them, have two goodly originals. The firſt began amongſt the ſlaves of Haniball, after he had paſſed the Alpes, and the later amongſt the Butchers of Barnet, who (their London Markets once ended) ſoundly dows'd in drinke, uſed to run home for wagers. What will theſe Fighters ſay, if I prove to them out of the great Secretary of Nature, Ariſtotle, that a man may feare, and yet be valiant? Firſt, ſaith he, a valiant man may dread all things ſhamefull and wicked, and the Infamy of himſelfe, and his. Secondly, he may feare all things ſo dreadfull, that they exceed the power of Humane Nature to withſtand, as Thunder, Lightning, Earthquakes, Inundations, and the like, which yet he feares not, ſo that they ſhall make him forget to do the office of a man reſolved. Nay, hee ſtops not there, but maintaines that a valiant man may flie from an enemy without being juſtly branded with cowardiſe, in caſe hee findes his Life may be more profitable to his Countrey then his Death. Hee cannot then be ſaid to ſhun death out of puſillanimity, but to reſerve himſelfe for a greater good.

But I deſire to be read by my owne Light; for I would not have any man thinke that I inferre by this Invective againſt the abuſe of this Heroick Vertue, that I counſell any Gentleman to endure groſſe Injuries of a high nature, ſuch as may diſparage his whole Race, Countrey, Religion, or hazard the ſafety of his perſon; for of theſe foule wrongs, all Nations allow a Repulſion, and the Ancients called this harmleſſe defence, Incorruptam Tutelam. Therefore Mars was pictured with his Boſome open, to ſhew unto us that worthy men ought to expoſe themſelves to all dangers, for the preſervation of their Honour.

This deare Gentleman, whoſe loſſe wee condole, had not yet received force and vigour to make a demonſtration of the externall valour, but the internall he had abundantly, as appeared by many ſeeds of true Magnanimity, which both by his carriage and ſpeech, were eaſily to be diſcern'd in him. Such ſparkes as theſe of a great minde the Romans diſcover'd in Cato yet a childe, and by thoſe judg'd of his future Two admirable ſignes of Cato's future valour diſcover'd in him yet a childe. Greatneſſe. Two of theſe, as moſt remarkable, I ſhall here inſert not onely to delight but to confirme, and ſtrengthen the mindes of my Readers. He, and his brother Caepio, being educated in the Houſe of their Unkle Livius Druſus, it happened that the Latines were at that time ſuitours for the obtaining of a City, and that one of the chiefe of them, Popedius Silo, was entertain'd, and lodg'd in the Houſe of Druſus. Popedius one day amongſt the reſt talking, and jeſting familiarly with the children, ſaid to them, Will not you intercede with your Unkle that wee may have a Citie granted us? To this Caepio fairly and readily aſſented, and promis'd his utmoſt aid, but Cato ſilent and ſullen, look'd on him with a brow knit, which Popedius obſerving, in a feigned fury, tooke the childe up in his armes, and held him out of the window, threatning to let him fall, unleſſe hee granted his requeſt. Notwithſtanding all his threats, Cato ſtill continued his ſilence, and his frowns; whereupon Popedius ſet him down againe, and whiſpered this ſoftly to his friends ſtanding by. What will this childe doe when he comes to be a man? I believe wee ſhall not obtaine by his conſent one voice from the people of Rome. Another proofe of his Magnanimity hee gave in the time of Sylla. Being about the age of fourteen, Sarpedon his Tutour carried him to ſalute Sylla, who civilly and gently receiv'd him, in remembrance of the friendſhip he had contracted with his father. The palace of Sylla, was then no better then a ſlaughter-houſe, into which men were carried bound, and there ſuffered all kinde of wracks and tortures, and after thoſe death it ſelfe. The heads of proſcribed men were as commonly and openly carried in and out, as if they had belong'd to beaſts: which Cato at ſeverall Viſits, not onely took notice of, but withall mark'd how good men ſigh'd and groan'd at this cruelty, and he himſelfe abhorring ſo bloudy a Tyranny, with a reſolute minde, and countenance ſaid to his Tutour; Why does no man kill this monſter of men? To this Sarpedo replyed, Becauſe they fear him more then they hate him: but you anſwered Cato, have given me a Sword that I may diſpatch him, and free my Countrey from ſervitude. Hee utterd this with ſuch fierceneſſe, that Sarpedo after that time ſeldome or never preſented him to Sylla, or, if he did, it was not without preparation of him by his authority, and adviſe.

From the vanquiſhing of outward Enemies, Temperancie extolled in it ſelfe, and him. our method leads us to the ſubduing of inward, which are our paſſions and affections. The Conquerour of theſe is Temperancie, who is Natures Minion, and ſtudies her preſervation. By this Reaſon governes the ſenſuall part, tames it, and makes it endure the Bitt. Without this, our paſſions will violently carry us into the gulph of pleaſure, out of which few or none return at all, or, if they doe, it is not without ſuffering of ſhipwrack, and extreame perill. Delights betray us with kiſſing, and having charm'd us into a profound ſleep, we no ſooner awake, but wee ſee our ſelves environ'd with Horrour and Deſpair, out of whoſe ſharpe claws none ever yet eſcaped unwounded. In the entry to Voluptuouſneſſe we diſcerne nothing but Roſes, Violets, and the prime flowers of the Spring ſtrewed in our way, but in comming backe, wee view nothing but unked, diſmall Objects of ſolitude, and ſorrow. The comfort is incredible of thoſe who joyfully flie into the imbraces of this Vertue, loathing and abhorring the very ſhadow of Intemperancie, which ugly Traytreſſe never leaves Youth till ſhe hath brought them to thoſe Precipices which ſhe hath prepared for their deſtruction. The famous Oratour Demoſthenes upbraided the Athenians with this folly, that they never treated of peace, but in mourning Garments, which they wore for their friends lately loſt in the Warres. And this is the cuſtome of luxurious men, they never ſo much as mention Sobriety, and Continencie of Life, till they are under the laſh of the Phyſician, or the hand of Death. We are by much more vertuous, ſaith Pliny, in ſickneſſe then in health, wee then make God and Vertue our continuall meditation, and are no longer ruled by our paſſions and affections. We are not then Amorous, Ambitious, Covetous, Revengefull. Riot is like a fierce untamed Tiger, the keeping whereof is as perillous as the taking. Wee muſt here imitate Vliſſes, not his followers, whom Circes turn'd into Swine. If wee lend an eare to the inticing, raviſhing voice of pleaſure, we alſo ſhall be tranſform'd into beaſts. This Vertue is exercis'd in brideling, and reſtraining the inordinate appetite to meat, drinke, and Venery. The Romans uſed ever to imbowell their dead, and not to allow thoſe ignoble parts, the panch, and guts buriall, as being the onely cauſers of our Diſſolution. Hee is unworthy the Name, and Definition of man, who lives onely to eat. Diogenes called the Belly the Charybdis of the Life. Muſonius the Philoſopher warns us that it is decent, and behoofefull that man alone, amongſt all Creatures, being deſcended from the Gods ſhould chiefly nouriſh himſelfe, as they do, with contemplation, not minding food farther then to ſatisfy nature: Drunkenneſſe, and Gluttony are comprehended under exceſſe, who is the common mother to both.

The Ancients repreſented to us the uglineſſe Drunkenneſſe diſpraiſed. of the former, by picturing Bacchus naked and young, to ſignifie unto us, that Drunkards can keepe nothing ſecret. As when Wine begins to worke in a Veſſell, that part of it which is in the bottome mounts up to the top: ſo a Drunkard diſcloſeth the ſecrets that lie in the very bottom of his heart. His Chariot was drawn by Lions, Leopards, and Panthers, to intimate unto us that Wine metamorphoſeth them into Savage bruits, that drinke it beyond meaſure. They drew him clad in Goats skins, to denotate the incontinencie of ſuch. His Sacrifices were ordinarily executed by women, to argue the effeminacie of men given over to that vice.

Neither are Surfeits of meate leſſe odious and Gluttony reprehended. enormous then theſe of drinke. What a ſtrange and undecent ſight is it to behold men lothing, and longing for meats, like women with child? Where this Vice raignes, nothing of value can reſide. As when we behold the Sun through vapours, and clouds, he appeares not to us ſo beautifull as when hee is in his full ſhine, having nothing interpos'd between him, and us: ſo a ſoule charged with Repletion & Fumes that ariſe from excrements, and meates undigeſted is eclipſed, and through the miſts and fogs raiſed by ſenſuality can diſcerne nothing ſubtile and generous, expreſſing no more harmony in her functions than we can expect from an inſtrument fild with Durt and Rubbiſh. Uncleane ſpirits love uncleane lodgings, as we may perceive by the Divells in the poſſeſſed man, who petition'd our Saviour that they might enter into the herd of hogs, not into Oxen, Sheep, or any other clean Beaſt, nouriſh'd with cleane food. The example of Dives ſhould much terrifie theſe ravenous devourers, who was ſo cruelly tormented in his Tongue, the Organ of Taſt. The devill knew man to be ſo prone to this ſinne, that he made it the baite to catch our firſt Parents, and the ſnare wherwith he thought to hold faſt our Redemer. If thou bee the ſonne of God, ſaid hee, command theſe ſtones to be made bread. Innocentius thus inveighes againſt this ſuperfluous feeding. Gula Paradiſum clauſit, primogenituram Vendidit, ſuſpendit piſtorem, decollavit Baptiſtam, Nabuzardam Princeps coquorum Templum incendit, & Hieruſalem totam evertit: Gluttony firſt ſhut up Paradiſe, ſold the Birth-right, hang'd the Baker, beheaded St. John Baptiſt, Nabuzardam the Maſter Cooke burnt the Temple, and overthrew the Walls of Hieruſalem. The frequent uſe of delicious meates and drinkes amongſt the Romans (as their Jecur Anſerimum, their Porcus Trojanus, Sumen, Vvedulae, Ficedulae, Phaenicopteri, and their generous Wines, Cecuba, Falerna, &c.) cauſed them to be as much cenſur'd by ſucceeding Hiſtorians, as their vertues made them admir'd. The Naturalliſts report, that the Sea-horſe hath his heart placed in his belly, to intimate his voracity. Philoxenes wiſhed his neck were as long as a Cranes, that he might the longer feele the ſweetneſſe of his meate. I knew an old witty Epicure of this nation who hath often in the preſence of a whole Ordinary, wiſh'd himſelfe a Cowe, that hee might eate his meate over twice. Alas, ſaid hee, a man hath ſmall pleaſure in feeding twice a day halfe an howre at a time, I would bee ever eating. He wiſhed if hee muſt needes goe to heaven hee mought bee wound up thether by a Jacke. All the while this glutton pamper'd his body, his ſoule ſtarv'd, receiving no nutriment, but what was uncleane and putrid. Sminderides rode a wooing attended by a thouſand Cooks, a thouſand Fowlers, and as many Fiſhers. That this ſin of gluttony is no ſolitary vice, but is ever accompanied by Incontinency. St. Hirome tells us. Semper Saturitati junct a eſt Laſcivia: Vicina igitur ſunt venter, & genitalia; pro membrorum ordine ordo vitiorum. Laſciviouſneſſe ever aſſociates ſaturity. Therefore are the Belly, and the ſecrets placed cloſe by one another, to ſhew that they are as neare in conſequence and dependancy as in ſcituation, the one feeding and maintaining the other. Wherefore they were in no errour, who ſtiled hunger the friend of Virginity, in that it cooles the boyling blood, and renders the Fleſh ſubject to the Spirit. Water, Fruits, and Rootes were mans firſt ſuſtinance. Lord how farre is his dyet alter'd from its firſt ſimplicity? Remarkable is that ſaying of Alexander: I know no better a Cooke to procure me an Appetite to my dinner, than to riſe betimes, nor to my Supper, than to eate little at Dinner. Epictetus Counſaileth us, not to decke our Rooms with Tablets and Pictures, but with Sobriety, and Temperancy; in that the former onely feed the eyes, but the later the ſoule, to which they are eternall Ornaments.

This our ſweetly diſpos'd Lord cloſely followed the advice of this Philoſopher, who in all his Actions did nothing without the conſultation, and approbation of Sobriety, and Modeſty. Hee never was invited to a feaſt, but he diligently cal'd to minde that hee had two gueſts to entertaine, the body, and the ſoule; and that what ever he beſtowed on the one, would be corrupted, and converted into Excrements; but what hee conferred on the other would enjoy the ſame Eternity with it. He obſerv'd ſuch a beautifull Order in all his deſires, that they never ranne before, nor lagg'd behinde, but ever kept that rank in which Reaſon had placed them. He lived by a Rule compoſed, and confirm'd by either Teſtament, and taught his ſoule to affect nothing ſhee might not lawfully covet. Thus wee ſee the admirable fruit Temperancy brought forth in his mind, and will in all other wherein ſhee is once planted. I will give a period to the diſcourſe of this Vertue, with the words of Proſper, who thus extolls it. Temperantia facit abſtinentem, parcum, ſobrium, moderatum, pudicum, tacitum, & Verecundum. Haec Virtus ſi in animo habitat libidines fraenat affectus 'temperat' deſideria ſancta multiplicat, vitioſa caſtigat, omnia inter nos confuſaordinat, cogitationes pravas removet, ſcientiam inſerit, ignem libidinoſae cupiditatis extinguit, mentem placida Tranquilitate componit, & totam ab omni in ſemper tempeſtate Vitiorum defendit. Temperancy makes a man abſtinent, ſparing, ſober, moderate, chaſt, ſilent, and modeſt. This Vertue once entred into the mind, bridles luſt, tempers affections, multiplyes holy deſires, and chaſtiſeth the vitious, ſets our confuſed thoughts in order, and removes the wicked ones, inſerts knowledge, quencheth all libidinous flames within us, compoſeth and ſetleth the minde in a pleaſing Tranquility, and evermore defends every part of it from all Stormes raiſed by Vice.

Juſtice challengeth a place here, and deſervedly, it being a Cardinall Vertue, and of great Juſtice exalted in it ſelfe, and him. eminency, not only amongſt the Morall, but Divine vertues alſo. Homer ſayes, ſhe was begotten by all the gods, ſo divers, and ſo admirable are her effects. Cicero thus commends her to us: Justitia Virtutis ſplendor eſt Maximus, ex qua viri boni nominamur. Juſtice is the greateſt ſplendour of vertue, from which we purchaſe the names of good men. Moſt elegantly Caſſiodorus: Iuſtitia non novit Patrem, non novit Matrem, veritatē novit, perſonā no accipit, Deum imitatur: Iuſtice knows neither Father, nor mother, ſhe knowes Truth; ſhe is no reſpector of perſons, and is in that an imitator of God. According to the ſtrict or ſlacke practice of this vertue, all Common-wealths have flouriſh'd, or decay'd. Without her what were Man-kinde, but a confuſed multitude of ravenous hungry Lyons, living by rapines, and murders. This Vertue conſiſts of two parts, the diſtributive, and commutative. The diſtributive is chiefely Regall, and appropriate to Emperours, Kings, Princes, and to all thoſe who derive their Authority from them. The Commutative is an equall and juſt dealing betweene all men, of what Condition ſoever they be.

The former part is of greateſt dignity, and acted but by a few, and they of great ranke, and quality: yet of thoſe few how many ſhall we find that execute the great Offices committed to their charge by God himſelfe with impartiality and equity? The difference Ariſtotle puts betweene a juſt Prince and a Tyrant is, that the aime of the former is the publicke good, the ſcope of the later is his owne profit. Theſe two behold their Subjects with a different eye, no otherwiſe than a Shepherd, and a Butcher looke on a ſheepe to different ends, the one to preſerve, the other to deſtroy it. A Tyrant is like Boreas, that ever threatens ſhipwrack and ruine; A juſt King reſembles Zephyrus, whoſe breath begets plentie and ſweetneſſe. That a juſt King, or Judge ought to be a moſt ſtudious, and carefull Inveſtigatour of the Truth, is taught us by the example of God himſelfe, who ſaid, I will deſcend, and ſee whether the cry which is come unto mee be juſt, or no. The Ancients pictur'd Aſtraea (whom they made a Repreſentour of Juſtice) without a head, which they ſaid was in Heaven, to ſignifie that Juſtice ſhould not regard men, but have her eyes fixed on God. In Athens the Delinquents ever pleaded before the Judges with their faces covered, leſt the ſweetneſſe of ſome pleaſing countenance ſhould ſo much move, and ſo farre work upon them as to make them doe injuſtice.

Two ſtupendious preſidents of Juſtice wee have in two mighty Monarchs, Seleuchus, and Two ſtupendious preſidents of Juſtice. Cambyſes. Seleuchus having made a law, the tranſgreſſion whereof he ordaind to be puniſh'd with the loſſe of both eyes: it moſt unfortunately happened that his own ſonne was the firſt tranſgreſſour of it, whereupon being a moſt indulgent Father, and withall a moſt ſevere Juſticer, to ſatisfie the rigour of the Law, he cauſed one of his own eyes to be pulled out, and another of his ſonnes. Cambyſes having condemned a cruell and corrupt Judge to be flead alive, cauſed the chaire of Juſtice to be covered with his skin, and make the ſonne of this monſtrous Oppreſſour ſit, and give judgement in it, for an aſtoniſhment, and terrour to him, and all ſucceeding Judges. Iunius Brutus executed his own children, for their conſpiring againſt the liberty of their Country. By the ſevere Lawes of Draco, which were written in bloud, when the Authour of a Crime could not be found out, even things inanimate were cited, condemn'd, throwne out of the City, baniſhed for ever, or broken in pieces, according to the Nature of the Fact. As a Phyſician, or Surgion oftentimes adminiſters ſtinking and lothſome potions, nay, ſometimes cuts off a limbe, and all this for the preſervation of his patient: ſo in the body politick, a juſt Judge alwayes inflicts bitter puniſhments on the putrid, wicked members of the Common-wealth, nay, ſometimes cuts them off, having this for a Statemaxime, that hee who is mercifull to the bad, is cruell to the good.

In this diſtributive part of Juſtice, no wiſe man can look that this our mirrour of the youthfull Nobility ſhould attaine to the leaſt degree of perfection, ſince neither his few yeares admitted, nor his Prince called him to ſit in the ſeat of Juſtice. In the commutative part hee was no way defective, doing to all men as hee would be done unto. In this hee ſtrictly in all points obeyed the advice of Seneca: Quiſquis Juſtitiam ſectari deſideras prius Deum time, & ama, ut ameris à Deo. Amabis Deum ſi in hoc illum imitaberis, ut velis omnibus prodeſſe, nihil nocere. Ab alio expectes quod alteri feceris. Praeſtabis parentibus pietatem, cognatis dilectionem, pacem cum hominibus habebis, bellum cum vitiis praeſtabis, amicis fidem, omnibus aequitatem: Whoſoever thou art that deſireſt to follow Iuſtice, firſt feare, and love God, that thou mayſt be beloved of God. Thou ſhalt ſhew thou loveſt God, if in imitation of him thou ſeekeſt to profit all, to hurt none. Expect from another what thou haſt done to him. Thou ſhalt make an expreſſion of pietie towards thy Parents, love to thy Kinred, thou ſhalt have peace with all men, warre with vices, thou ſhalt keepe thy faith unviolated to thy friends, and obſerve the Lawes of Equitie towards all men.

What ſhould have beene placed in the Front, comes here in the Reare, and that is prudencie, Prudencie commended in it ſelfe, and him. a vertue which ſerves, meaſures, graces, and crownes all other vertues whatſoever. As amongſt precious ſtones ſome are of greater prize then the reſt, and by their preſence impart to them a luſtre: ſo prudencie amongſt all other Vertues, is of greateſt eſteeme in the eyes of all men, as being to the reſt a Guide, a Gage, and an Ornament. As the eye in the body is by all preferred before the other ſenſes: ſo prudencie in the ſoule is commended above all other perfection. In the troope of Vertues ſhe hath the moſt honourable charge. Prudencie gives a meaſure, and a Gage to every other Vertue; for (if not meaſur'd, and directed by diſcretion) a needfull Care turns into an utter Deſpaire, a decent grief into Rage and Bitterneſſe, Love into Flattery, Hope into Preſumption, Joy • nto Wantonneſſe, and a juſt Anger into an immoderate Fury. So that wee may perceive an undiſcreet vertue to be no better then a Vice. This is ſhee that hath ever an eye to what is paſt, preſent, and to come, and out of all three picks this advantage, that her Adverſary can never ſurprize her unawares, or take her unprovided. Shee laughs at that uſuall ſaying of Fools, I had not thought. As in the warres, though the Enemy be farre off, the Watch is ſtill conſtantly ſet: ſo ſhe is alwayes vigilant, and hath a ſeverall ward for every blow of Fortune. She is like double-faced Ianus looking two ſeverall wayes at one and the ſame time. This all men will readily grant me, that if Fortune cauſe a Tempeſt to rage and rore, ſhee ſhall not ſo ſoon ſink him, that fore-ſeeing the ſtorme hath taken in his ſailes, as him, who miſtruſting nothing, beares them all out. Prudencie teacheth us that in this rolling, tottering World there is nothing ſtable, & that the beſt remedie againſt an evill is the prevention of it. To be briefe, her aſſiſtance is more neceſſary, cleane through all the affaires of this life, then on the Sea is the government of a Pilot, who knows not how to aſſwage the violence of a ſtorme, nor to appeaſe the fury of the Windes, nor to gaine his deſired Port at his pleaſure; whereas prudencie will for the moſt part either prevent, or fruſtrate all practices that tend to her ruine. As if there were no Sun, we ſhould live in a perpetuall darkneſſe, for all the comfort, and light the other Stars could afford us: ſo except the beams of this bright, and radiant prudencie reflect on all our actions, and Negotiations, they will appeare dimme and ſordid, notwithſtanding all the light the other Vertues can lend us. This vertue was in ſuch repute with Ageſilaus, that hee exhorted his ſouldiers, now ready for the combat, that they ſhould not minde the multitude of their Enemies, but bend all their forces againſt Epaminondas their Generall; for hee once ſubdued, all the reſt would in a trice be vanquiſh'd: For, ſaid hee, none but wiſe and prudent men know how to prevent a defeat, or obtain a victorie. This Vertue eminently and ſuperlatively appear'd in all the proceedings of Chriſt himſelf with the Iewiſh Nation. When hee had attain'd to the age of twelve yeares, hee ſate in the Temple amongſt the grave Doctours, queſtioning, anſwering, and inſtructing; and the Text witneſſeth, that all who heard him ſtood amazed at his prudent demands and replies. Hee alſo deluded the Prieſts and Elders of the Iewiſh Synagogue, by prudently anſwering one queſtion with another. When they aſked him by what power hee did thoſe Miracles? hee demanded of them, Whence the Baptiſme of John was? When again they demanded of him if he were the Son of God? he replyed, You ſay that I am. This prudencie (next to the Invocation of his Father) was the onely Engine wherewith hee defended himſelf againſt the pernicious plots of this Generation of Vipers. As no Architecture can come to perfection, without the help of the Compaſſes & the Rule: ſo ſtands it with Human Actions, without the aid of prudencie, none of them can receive their grace, and accompliſhment. Let a man be maſter of all abilities imaginable, if he be not withall judicious and prudent, to make a right uſe of them, and to produce them in their proper times and places, they will acquire him rather ſhame then glory. If one could have Ariſtotle and Seneca, without book, and were withall injudicious, inconſiderate, & undiſcreet, he would oftener purchaſe laughter then applauſe. Diodorus (omitting the idle Fables of Proteus) informes us that hee was adopted King by the Egyptians, in that he excell'd all men in Wiſdome, which made him ſo cunning in giving, and taking counſell, and in changing it with dexterity when opportunity ſerved, that hence aroſe the Fable, that hee could turn himſelfe into ſo many formes and ſhapes. If in his determinations hee altered any thing, you could not ſo properly ſay he chang'd as hee fitted his minde to the preſent occaſion; as we ſee the hand is the ſame ſtill whether it be ſhut or extended. Indeed the minde of a Wiſeman is, as Seneca ſayes, like the ſtate of the World above the Moone, where there is no change He alwayes returns home (as it is ſaid of Socrates) with the ſame countenance hee carried out; and, according to Epictetus, is like himſelfe even in his dreames.

This our incomparable Child of Honour gave ſtrong eſſayes to climbe the ſummity of this vertue, both by diligent reading, and obſervation of all the writings and actions of the wiſe. In his converſation he ever applyed himſelfe to thoſe who had deſervedly gain'd a fame in good Letters, or had acquir'd wiſedome by Experience; whoſe ſage precepts, and admonitions, hee as greedily dranke in, as a thirſty Traveller doth Water from a cleare fountaine. Theſe he made the mirrour, wherein he daily dreſs'd, and compos'd his mind, which was a Paradiſe into which the Serpent never enter'd, but he receiv'd a ſuddaine repulſe. Two times eſpecially hee made choyſe of, to prepare and examine himſelf, the Morning, & the Evening. In the firſt he forecaſt what was that day to bee done, in the later he cald to minde what that day he had done. To doe good was his fixed reſolution, and when he had the power to doe harme (like the true ſonne of Prudency) he never had the will: wheras the Nature of a foole is, when he hath not the ability, then to have the will to doe miſchiefe, This Vertue was defuſed cleane through all his endeavours, nay through his very habit, geſture, and diſcourſe; which were neither too mimical, too anticke, nor too grave, but ſutable to the modeſty required in ſo greene an Age. Impudency (which Politicians prophanely call the gift of God) he hated ſo in others, that hee never gave it countenance, nor harbour himſelfe. In his Diſcourſe he warily proportion'd his words to the bigneſſe of the ſubject he ſpake of: in imitation of a Mariner, that fits his Sayles to the ſmalneſſe or vaſtneſſe of his Veſſell. As ſlender men lightly weare their cloaths looſe, and large, a little to augment their bulke: ſo ſmall wits, who want matter, enlarge themſelves in words; whereas indeed, that ſpeech is beſt which comprehends moſt ſence in feweſt words; as wee eſteeme that Coyne moſt, which in a ſmall compaſſe includes a great value. Hee was not haſty to ſpeak, or in ſpeaking, but in both prudently obſerv'd a decency. He was very carefull not onely what he vented, but what hee heard, that it reliſhed not of Immodeſty, Levity, or Vice; for he held that, what ever it was, a villany to act, it was alſo a villany to harken to. Hee talked alwayes opportunely, and appoſitively, never above his knowledge. He derided thoſe who with a great dinne utter'd nothing but high profound Non-ſence, reſembling in that the Cypreſſe trees, which are great, and tall, but beare no fruit. A viſit given to a wiſe, but ſick man, by one of theſe babling, curious impertinents, afflicts him more than his diſeaſe. His owne ſecrets, thoſe of his friends, or of the ſtate, he neither reveal'd, nor pryed into; for he was ſure he could at any time ſpeake what he had conceal'd, but he could not conceale what he had once ſpoken. En la boca ſerada moxca no entra (ſayes the Spaniſh Proverbe) Into a mouth cloſed a Flie never enters. Hee had happily read, or heard, that Anacharſis the Philoſopher was accuſtomed to ſleep with his right hand on his mouth, and his left on his ſecrets, being of opinion, that the Tongue more than Concupiſcence needed a bridle. Not to be tedious, I may boldly, becauſe truely, averre that Prudency was the generall of his Demeanour, Speech, and Actions, and gave to all of them a Wiſe and ſafe Conduct.

You ſee, pious Reader, what embelliſhment, what Ornaments his Life, like a ſparkling Jewell, His Death. was ſet with; and I imagine you cannot believe ſo faire a beginning could have a foule end. You cannot ſurely be at once ſo ſtupid, and uncharitable: If you can, you ſhall quickly be convinc'd of your Errour, and ſhall ſee this Sun-ſet, with the ſame glory in which he roſe. Firſt, in his ſickneſſe that led to his death he made uſe of His Patience. his patience, a Vertue which miraculouſly overcomes by yielding. As he would not ſhunne his death, ſo he would not haſten it, but uſed all lawfull, and poſſible meanes to prevent it; no otherwiſe than the Maſter of a Ship, who when the ſayles are rent aſunder, the Maſt cut downe by the boarde, and a Leake ſprung in the ſhip, yet ſtill labours for life, and leaves no way unſought to preſerve it. But when hee ſaw his inconſtant Miſtreſſe, Nature, ready to abandon him, and that as well Neceſſity forced, as God cald him hence: then ſelfe-love, the Lifes Jaylour could no longer with-hold him from readily running into the Armes of Death, who he knew would ſoone uſher him into the imbraces of his Saviour. He beheld Death no otherwiſe then a Pilot does the Winds and the Sayles, that will bring him to his deſired Haven. He endured the terrible approach, and the furious aſſaults of Death with ſo undaunted a reſolution of a man, and ſo firme unmoved a beliefe of a Chriſtian, that he became at once a pleaſing, and ſad ſpectacle to his friends, who believed he could not ſo patiently undergoe ſuch paine and torments, without the extraordinary aſſiſtance of ſome Beatificall viſion. We ſee many in the darke are afraid of every thing, but the comfortable light expells all feare: ſo it is for thoſe who are blinded with the Miſt Atheiſme, and Impiety, have caſt before their eyes to doubt, and tremble: ſecurity becomes ſuch as live and dye in the true Light, and are illuſtrated with the beames of Gods favour, as was this Patient of Heaven, who not being curable here, was thither to be tranſlated. Before the comming of the Holy Ghoſt upon the Apoſtles, they feared Death, and forſooke their Lord, but when they were once illuminated from above, they undauntedly appear'd before Tyrants, and conſtantly ſuffer'd Martyrdome. Having ſent his deſires long before to caſt Anchor in Heaven, hee longingly expected his owne paſſage with a calme, patient, and contented minde, wherein no diſtemper ever ſtay'd, but as an unwelcome ſtranger. At length when he perceived all his ſenſes were ready to forſake him, being innocently ambitious to retaine to the laſt his knowledge of all things, he ſuddainly by a holy Art drew the vaſtneſſe of his memory into a Compendium, and remembred God onely in whom are all things, in whoſe Fatherly eternall protection we confident, and ſubmiſſively leave him.

In this bud of Honour two things are deſervedly Two things to bee lamented in his Death. to be lamented. Firſt that it dyed under the hand of a Royall Gardner, who meant to underprop and cheriſh it: Secondly, that it ſo ſoone faded.

All men will confeſſe his infortunity was great in departing this life in the Reigne of a His infortunity in dying ſo immaturely in the Reigne of ſo gracious a Prince. Prince great in the Union of the Roſes, greater in that of the Lawrells, but greateſt of all in the love of his people. He knowes full well, that full ill it went with man-kind if the Almighty Maker of all things ſhould confine his favour to one onely, and neglect the reſt of Humanity, and therefore as a god on earth (in imitation of of the Heavenly) diſtributes his favours amongſt all his ſubjects, but not eodem gradu, becauſe they are not ejuſdem meriti. Like the Sunne, he ſtrives to impart the light of his countenance to all, and whither his beames cannot reach, thither his warmth extends. Though all cannot enjoy the honour of his preſence, all are ſharers in the comfort of his benefits. We are not more happy in living, than this brave deceaſed Lord was unfortunate in immaturely dying under ſo gratious a King, diligent in the ſearch after deſert, and magnificent in rewarding it, who in all probability (upon a proofe made of his faith, and merit) might in him have raiſed his whilome great Houſe to that Height from which Tyranny unmercifully threw it downe. I ſay to the ſame Height, not the ſame Titles.

As concerning the immaturity of his Death, The immaturity of his Death. I willingly acknowledge the ſuddaine, unexpectted deprivation of one ſo deare, and ſo hopefull, muſt needs be bitter, and grievous to all thoſe whom blood, friendſhip, or acquaintance had link'd to him. Yet ought they not to grieve immoderately, the ſorrow of a Chriſtian being by Chriſt himſelfe bounded, and confin'd. Wee may deplore the abſence of our departed friends, but we muſt not too much bewayle their deaths, becauſe they are with God. As not to feele ſorrow in ſad chances is to want ſence; ſo not to beare it with moderation, is to lack underſtanding, ſince it is fit that griefe ſhould rather bewray a tender then a dejected minde. The effects of our ſorrow muſt not too long out-live the cauſe. We moyſten not the earth with pretious Waters; they were diſtill'd for nobler ends, either by their Odour to delight us, or by their operation to preſerve our health. Our Teares are Waters of too high a price to be prodigally powred into the duſt of any Graves. But we unwiſely court ſorrow, and as a Lover alwaies eſpyes ſomething in his Miſtris that in his opinion exalts her above her Sexe, ſo wee labour to finde out cauſes for our exceſſive griefe, and to prove our preſent loſſe unequall'd, though indeed, it have many paralells. As the light handling of a Nettle makes it ſting us, but the hard griping of it prevents that harme; ſo wee ſhould not ſtroke and cheriſh our griefes, but out of Divinity and Humanity compoſe a probe that may ſearch them to the quicke. Hee who heateth an Iron, takes it not out by that part which the fire hath enflamed, but by that end which remained without: Nor ſhould wee take our afflictions by the wrong end, but if wee can finde any comfort to ariſe from them, wee ſhould diſcreetly lay hold on that. Hee who comes into a Roſary, findes every Roſe guarded with innumerable Thorns, yet he warily gathers the one without being pricked by the other. The moſt bitter accident hath a graine of ſweetneſſe and Conſolation in it, which a wiſe man extracts, and leaves the Gall behind.

To apply this; out of the ſubitary death of this Noble Gentleman wee may cull many comforts. True it is, that Death is ſayd to kill the old by Maturity, and the young by Treachery, and that unripe, untimely ends, are by all extreamly pittied; but if we will harken to Reaſon, iſſuing out of the mouths of the moſt profound Philoſophers, ſhe will tell us that brevity Brevity of life to be preferred before Longevity. of Life is to be preferred before longevity. If we will give beliefe to Seneca, he will aſſure us that Nature never beſtowed a greater Benefit on man than ſhortneſſe of Life, it being ſo full of Cares, Feares, Dangers, and Miſeries, that Death is become the Common wiſh of all men afflicted. He who dyes ſoone, ſhould no more complaine than he whoſe Navigation in a rough troubled ſea is quickly ended. We account not thoſe the beſt trees that have withſtood the rage of many Winters, but thoſe who in the leaſt time have borne the moſt fruit. Not hee who playes longeſt, but ſweetlieſt on an Inſtrument is to bee Commended. Compared with Eternity, the longeſt and the ſhorteſt Life differ not. Life is not a conſtant Fountaine, but a fickle Floud that quickly riſes, and as ſuddainly falls. Some have compared life to a Bird in a Childes hand, which ſometimes flies away before hee can well faſten his hold on it. By the vertue of that Organ wherewith wee firſt behold the ſhine of the ſun, by the defect of the ſame we are brought into the darkneſſe and ſhadow of death. It is ſo, it is ſo, Hee that built this faire Fabricke would have nothing ſtable, and permanent in it but himſelfe. This goodly, rationall, ſubtle creature, Man, above the Stars themſelves, and next to God himſelfe in Dignity, able to penetrate into the deepeſt ſecrets of Nature, to obſerve the motions of the heavens, & to compaſſe both heaven and Earth in a thought, is onely immortall here below by ſucceſſion; Generation being as reſtleſſe as corruption. The miſtocles rightly affirmes that no creature is ſo miſerable as Man, in that none but he knows the uſe of life, yet when with great ſtudie and induſtry, hee hath attain'd to that knowledge, he is by death depriv'd both of life and it together. Age brings to us experience in one hand, and Death in the other. Iuſt were the teares, and ſweet was the Humanity, ſaith Pliny, of that Royall and youthful Xerxes. Graecian, who wept to thinke that not one of that glorious immenſe Army hee then commanded ſhould ſurvive one Age. Such a gentle commiſeration of humane frailty made Anſelme thus cry out. O durus Caſus! Heu! quid perdit homo? quid invenit? perdi dit beat itudinem ad quam factus eſt, & invenit mortem, ad quam factus non eſt. O hard hap! Alas! What did man loſe? What did he finde? Hee loſt the bleſſedneſſe to which he was made, and found death to which he was not made. Shal then the valiant, & the learned have a harder fate then fools, in ſo ſoon parting with thoſe Crownes which Mars and Apollo have placed on their heads? ſhall they ſo ſuddenly be deprived of the comfort of that faire Fame which with bloud, and ſweat, with faſting and watching they have purchas'd? Yes, yes, Caeſar ſhall never terrifie the World again with his valour, nor Cicero charme it with his eloquence. The ſword of the one, and the pen of the other have now with their Lords the ſame eternall and unprofitable reſt. Alas, alas, Mans is as brittle as glaſſe, but not ſo conſerveable. As he encreaſes in growth, his life decreaſes. As whether one ſleeps, or wakes in a ſhip under ſaile he is inſenſibly, as it were, carried away towards his intended Port; ſo what ever we are doing, we unawares ſail towards the region of death. Time deals with man Arithmetically; He firſt addes to his Beauty, and multiplies his Graces, and then hee ſubſtracts all theſe, and makes a long laſting Diviſion between him and Nature. It were ſtrange, if we ſhould think wee ſhall never arrive there, whither wee are ever going. Plutarch writes of creatures in a certain part of the World which are borne in the morning, are in their prime at noon, grow aged towards the evening, and are dead ere night. Had theſe reaſonable ſoules as wee have, they would have alſo the ſame paſſions. They would after our womaniſh cuſtome lament their untimely death who die before noon, eſteeme them happy that live till the evening, and yet bewaile them too who depart at night. Our fond whining were ſeaſonable, and to purpoſe, if it could prevent the death of our friends, or call them from the dead; but it ſavours of a vain, fooliſh arrogant ambition to deſire they ſhould be privileged, and exempted from the fatall, common condition of Mankinde, ſince wee cannot be ignorant that God hath ſet down a period beyond which Nature her ſelf ſhal not paſſe. Nothing repreſenteth better to us this world then a theater; God hath ſet down a period, beyond which Nature her ſelfe ſhall not paſſe. wheron one acts a King, another a Lord, a third a Magiſtrate; others again play the baſe ſervil parts of fools, meſſengers, & mutes. Some of them ſtay, ſtare, ſtrut, & look big a long time on the Stage; others only ſhew themſelvs, & without ſpeaking This World compared to a Theatre. one word, as ſoon as they come on go off againe; to conclude, all have their Exits: So we poore Mortals who are ſent by our provident omnipotent Creator into this world, to undergo ſeveral charges (ſome wherof are honorable, ſome ignominious) have al an egreſſe out of this life, aſwel as an ingreſſe allotted us. Some a long time be at this earthly Stage with the Majeſtie of a Tragedian; others are fools & ſneak up & down to the laughter of all men; others again lie manacled, bed-rid, or (which is the worſt of Fates) diſtracted. Some no ſooner enter but they go out again, as did that child in the beſieged, depopulated, deſolate town of Saguntum, who by an inſtinct of Nature, no ſooner put his head out of his Mothers wombe, but he pull'd it in again, as divining the approching deſtruction of his Citie and himſelf. To continue the ſimilitude; As hee who acted an Emperor (the Play once done) is no better then he who repreſented a ſlave: ſo the Grave, as Horace ſaith, equals all, the King & the Beggar. Pertinently to this S. Ambroſe, We are born naked, ſaith he, and die naked, & there is no difference between the car caſſes of the rich, and the poore, ſave that the former ſtinke worſe through a repletion with excrements, which ſurfets of delicious fare have left behinde. This world is Deaths region, about it as a triumpher over all fleſh he rides his circuit. Since then his cōming is ſo neceſſary, ſo inevitable, whether he comes in the dawne, the noon, or twilight of life, let us bid him welcome. What ſhould hinder us to doe ſo I cannot tell; ſince as there is no ſhip but in one Voyage or other daſheth not againſt ſome hidden rock, or ſhelf: ſo the moſt happy life is not free from infinite croſſes and diſaſters. Yet though every man knows the inconveniences & perils of this life, ſaith S. Auſtin, and that he muſt once die, yet all men ſeeke to ſhun, and defer the houre of death; not onely the heathen, but they to who believe the reſurrection of the body, and the life everlaſting. To our reproch the holy Father ſpake this; for though it be no ſhame for a Gentile to fear death, whoſe onely ſcope of life is to ſee and be ſeen, to know & be known; yet to a Chriſtian it is, whoſe aime and deſire ſhould be not onely to ſerve God faithfully here, but alſo to raigne gloriouſly with him hereafter. What is neceſſarily to be done, a wiſeman does voluntarily; let us not therefore with the fooliſh Tyrant in Lucian, either with tears, prayers, or bribes vainly think to perſwade inexorable Death, but wiſely conſider that wee are neither the firſt, nor the laſt; All have gone before, and muſt follow us. Nay, not a man dies, that hath not at the ſame time many to accompany him, who arrive at the houſe of Death by ſeverall waies. Life is a due debt to God and Nature, as long as we have it, we enjoy a benefit, when wee are deprived of it wee have no wrong. Let us then daily render it backe to him that gave it, ſince hee is a bad debtour who unwillingly payes. As a Souldier, the ſigne once given, readily obeyes the command of his Generall, and armed at all poynts, followes him through all Dangers, and faceth Death himſelfe: ſo muſt we chearefully obſerve the very Beck of our Heavenly Commander, and through all miſeries and deſtruction it ſelfe make our way to him. Death ſhould be no longer formidable to us, ſince our Redeemer hath taken out his ſting, and hee is now no other then an old toothleſſe Dragon. It is a fooliſh thing to delight in ſleep, and abhorre Death, ſleepe being onely a continuall imitation of it. Hee that ſeriouſly contemplates the priviledges, and advantages that accompany a Chriſtian Death, will be in love with it. It is the Refuge of the afflicted, and the end of all earthly evils. It takes not life from us, but preſents it to the cuſtodie of Eternity. It is not an end but an intermittance Death to a Chriſtian not a puniſhment, but a tribute. of life, nor no longer a puniſhment, but a Tribute, and we are gainers by it. As he who hath a long time layne in a darke dungeon, is beyond imagination joyfull when he comes to the light: ſo the ſoule when ſhee is freed from the vapours and clouds in which the fleſh involv'd her is raviſh'd with delight. While ſhee is yet in the body, though her ambition reach at Heaven, yet is ſhee ſtill clogg'd with that heavy maſſe of earth, and cannot ſo nimbly and nobly operate as ſhe would. She may fitly be call'd the Gueſt, and the Body the Hoſt, that makes her pay dearly for her clayie lodging. For if a Magiſtrate be vexed and buſied to ſubdue and pacifie the Rebels of a ſeditious Citie, needs muſt the ſoule be troubled and afflicted, who hath a harder office aſſign'd her, which is to bridle, and reſtrain the vitious, inordinate, diſſolute affections which are inſeparable adjuncts to her while ſhee hath a conjunction with the body.

The prerogatives of Death being ſo many, and ſo certaine, let us no longer condole the deceaſe of this our compleatly noble Friend, but congratulate his happy departure hence, and his ſafe arrivall in the Imperiall Heaven. When Proculus Iulius had reported to the Romans that hee had ſeene Romulus, and that aſſuredly hee was a God, a Wonder it was, ſaith Livie, how much they gave credit to this Tale, and how greatly the miſſe of Romulus, both amongſt the Commons, and Souldiers, was by this beliefe of his Immortalitie digeſted. Much more ſhould our ſorrow be mittigated by the confidence we have that this our bleſſed Friends ſoule is aſcended to him from whom it deſcended. When Braſſe or Gold is melted to make the Statue of ſome great deſerving Man, wee ſay not that the Mettall is loſt, but dignified: In like caſe when a Body is turn'd into its firſt Principles, Duſt, and Aſhes, 〈1 page duplicate〉 〈1 page duplicate〉 wee who have an eye to the glorious Reſurrection of it, thinke not it is utterly ruin'd, but diſſolv'd to be refin'd. As in the Eclipſe of the Sunne or Moone, wee nothing at all wonder, or grieve, becauſe wee know either Starre will reaſſume its former ſplendour: So wee who are conſcious of the divine promiſe of Immortality ſhould undiſmay'd, believe the death of this our honour'd friend, no other then a paſſage to a better eternal life. I wil conclude with this double conſolation to all his Honourers. Firſt, that hee died with that matchleſſe comfort, The love of all men, and heard yet living, the judgement men would paſſe on him dead, and was, as it were, preſent with Poſterity. Secondly, that whereas here hee ranne a perpetuall hazard, in that hee carried a heavenly Treaſure in an Earthy Veſſell, hee now lives in an unmoved Securitie, and that Treaſure is encloſed in a Magazine to which the Heavens are Walls, and the Angels Warders. It is now high time to cover this ſweet, beautifull iſſue, who with the Roſe and Violet is lay'd downe to ſleepe in the Boſome of his firſt Mother the Earth, and ſhal enjoy, though it may be not ſo ſuddaine, yet as certaine a Spring as they, and which is more, an everlaſting.