DISCOVRSE. 1.

CONsidering that our happines on earth doth hang (next after the knowledge of Christ) vpon our actions, and that the soule is, as it were, the Fountaine and wel-spring thereof; our chiefe care (if we desire to liue [Page 2] an happy life) should be to make the better part of vs quiet and calm, endeauoring by al meanes, that it be not troubled, nor disea­sed by vulgar & popular opiniōs, as being things much contrary to the excellent nature thereof.

There are two times, the one of prosperity, the other of ad­uersity, wherein the soule is wont to bee vexed and tossed, with the passions of the inferi­our part, as with so many vio­lent and impetuous winds. And therefore we must herein imitate the Mariners, which before they loose off from the port, doe fur­nish themselues with all things necessary and needfull for resi­sting of the tempest and storme: so must wee prouide our selues aforehand of such sound and substantiall discourse, as may anker & stay the minde against [Page 3] the push of our passions, when as they, like so many surging waues, do, nil we, will wee, fling themselues aboard into our boate, and euen as Xenophon did exhort his fellow Cittizens to sacrifice vnto God in the time of prosperity, to the end they might finde him the more ready and fa­uourable when as they should inuoke him in their aduersity: So should we doe, and withall, at our first leasure, wee must con­tract acquaintance with rectified reason, to the end, that when wee shall stand in need of her aide and asistance, she may come running to vs at our call, as knowing vs by our voyce, and hauing already an affectionate & earnest desire for our defence.

The discourse of rectified rea­son is the maister and daunter of all peeuish and peruerse affecti­ons [Page 4] or passions. For, when as we haue once taken good notice of them by an earnest examination and tryall, made and tryed tou­ching the same; and that wee haue ripely and aduisedly weigh­ed both what power they haue ouer vs, and what Empire wee hold ouer them: They are not thereafter so fierce, and furious in our behalfe, but are more ea­sily, and with much lesse adoe appeased and pacified. They therein not a little resem­bling our little dogges, which will barke vncessantly at such as they are wont to see, but by and by are quieted as soone as they heare the voyce of such as they know.

The wise haue compared the commandement of the minde aboue this sensuall and terrestri­all part of the soule, out of [Page 5] which our passions doe spring, vnto the office of a Rider, who teaching, and training his horse, and sitting within the saddle ma­nageth and turneth him at his will. But small credit should the Rider receiue, that should bring to the Tourneyment or Tilte a yong horse, which had neuer be­fore borne the bit, nor galloped in the round, But hee must needs in the first place breake him by conuenient discipline, before he vse him in any errand or action of importance. In like manner before we put our backes vnder the burthen of any businesse, or expose our selues vnto the publicke view of the world, we must endeauour to breake and bring vnder this wild & vnbac­ked part of the soule, and make it, as it were, to bite vpon the bit, by bringing it to learne the [Page 6] lawes and measures whereby it must be managed, and maistered in all occasions, and at all occur­rences, & in the meane time we must not forget to enhearten and encourage it, by acquain­ting it with the pleasure and contentement, wherewith is ac­companied the issue and end of all worthy and vertuous actions.

Meditation and Discourse is that which giueth an edge vnto the soule, and maketh it steele­hard and vnpierceable, euen vnto the sharpest point of the stron­gest passion, & vsually we proue admirable at euery such exercise as we haue before hand accusto­med our selues vnto, what diffi­culty soeuer it may seem to carry with it. On the other side, there is nothing (bee it neuer so easie) which will not seeme hard and difficult, and withall much trou­ble [Page 7] vs, if it do finde vs but noui­ces, and new apprentises there­in. How often thinke yee, must Canius haue needs thought vpon death, and reuolued in his mind what thing it should bee, who being condemned by the Tirant, and sent to the place of executi­on, was so farre from being any whit dismayed thereat in his minde, that merrily, and as it were iestingly, he bid the Cen­turion, who came for him, re­member that he was stronger by the aduantage of one table, then he against whom hee played at that houre? And who taking his leaue of his neerest and dee­rest acquaintance, for his last farewell, vttered no other words but these: Now my deere friends, I shall presently finde that which I haue so long longed after, & so much desired to know, if the soule bee im­mortall, [Page 8] and whether men in dying, do feele the separation of the Soule and Body which they indure? We must needes thinke that this poore Pagane had a long time exercised himselfe in comman­ding, and ouer-ruling his passi­ons, and that hee had aforehand armed and fenced himselfe with faire resolutions, seeing that with such constancy, and grauity he went to vndergo a death both cruell and vniust. If the onely desire to vnderstād, what should become of the soule after death, could make the torment, and tor­ture not onely tollerable, but al­so acceptable vnto him, what re­solution then ought the certaine and assured knowledge of the soules immortality, together with the hope of eternall felicity worke in such as doe seriously meditate vpon the same in their [Page 9] mindes? May not these goods, thinke ye, make vnto such minds not onely supportable, but euen comfortable & delectable, both death it selfe, and all other disas­strous afflictions, which they en­dure, seeing they are as the waues which do push vs forward vnto the sweete and sure port of euerlasting rest and repose?

DIS. 2.

MAn is not borne to liue his armes a crosse, but ra­ther, as one of the fairest mem­bers of this faire frame, he must confer, and contribute his whole trauell and paine to the condu­ction and conseruation of that ciuill societie and condition wherein hee is placed. But be­cause [Page 10] that of the choyce which men make of a calling, their rest and quietnesse doth principally depend, and that nothing doth so much auaile to the leading of a contented life, as when they find themselues fit for the same: they ought, me thinketh, before all o­ther things, to take a tryall of their owne strength, and serious­ly bethinke themselues of that charge which they are about to embrace. Because vsually wee presume too much vpon our owne power, and attempt more then our ability is fit to atchieue. And this error we see is incident almost to all our actions: hence it is, that some will dispend more then their meanes may well beare: Others in labouring and toyling goe beyond their abili­ties; some are not maisters of their owne anger; others there

DISC. 3.

YEe must take order that yee be not surprised of any hu­maine accident, whereof (if it be possible) yee haue not bene be­fore-hand prudently foreseene, which thing yee shall easily per­forme, if in all the affaires yee shall take in hand, in the first place ye doe diligently fore-be­thinke your selfe of such incon­ueniences and crosse encounters as may fall out in the same, ac­cording to the nature, quality, and ordinary issue of the affaires: and certainely such foresight doth maruailously mittigate, sweeten, and abate the sharpnes, and harshnes of all such sinister accidents and chances: the which cānot bring you in so do­ing [Page 16] any sensible, or notable alte­ration and change, by reason of their not comming vpon you as vnlooked for, But contrarily they doe not a little endamage such persons as suffer themselues to be surprised, neither do consi­der how that nature sending thē into this world, hath allotted them rough, and vneasy seates. Such men doe not minde how that about their owne dores many times they haue with their eyes seene the louing wiues weeping and bewailing their de­ceased husbands, and the hus­bands with dewy eyes burying their beloued wiues, and deere children. They doe not pon­der how that such persons as did yesterday walke, and talke with them, to day dead, lye buried in their graues. So apt are we to be deceiued, and so little fore­sight [Page 17] haue we in our owne for­tune, that what we see daily with our eyes happen vnto others, we neuer, or sildome consider that the like may befall our owne selues.

If we would take such notice of things as wee ought, wee should rather find occasion offe­red vs to maruaile how that di­sasters, and dangers, which doe follow vs at the heeles, haue de­layed so long to ouertake vs, and hauing ouertaken vs, how it could bee possible that they should haue handled vs so harm­lesly, and gently as they haue done. O how grosly we deceiue our selues, when as for feare that men take vs to be timerous and feareful, we thinke ill to forecast and foresee dangers, and will not a whit mistrust our owne iudgement! It behooueth the [Page 18] man who is minded to make saile, to know that hee is in the possibility to haue a storme, and wee must know that the chance which hath hapned to one may likewise befall vnto vs, and that which hangeth ouer the heads of all, may fall vpon any one of vs all, without exemption or ex­ception whatsoeuer. The man who marketh well anothers mis­fortune as a thing which may no lesse befall vnto himselfe, then it hath already done vnto his fel­low, hath this aduantage, that before any such mischance take hold of him, he is already armed against the fury and force of the euill. Then were it too late for a man to make head against a dan­ger, when it is already come, & bootlesse should it be for him to say, I did not think, forsooth, that such a mis-fortune should haue [Page 19] befalne mee. And why so I pray you? is there any wealth in this world which hath not following after at her heeles pouerty and need? or is there any health that is not apt to be diminished by a lingring disease? or any honour or grace which is not inpossibi­lity to be turned into dishonor & disgrace? or what high rising is there which is not apt to haue a dolefull downe fall? or is there any estate from the pedlar euen to the Prince, exempt from alte­ration? and that which hath be­falne to one may it not likewise befall vnto another? It were a matter both tedious, and contra­ry to our designe, to discourse of such as fortune (if so wee may speake) from high roomes hath brought low, and of mighty men in a moment made misera­ble. In such a variety and vicis­situde [Page 20] of matters, if ye doe not fore-bethink your selfe, how that all humane accidents may touch you, as wel as others, ye giue ad­uersities great power ouer you, the which by the prudēce of him that foreseeth them are not a lit­tle abated, & made more milde. Our minds out of questiō, shold be in greater rest, if our actions were occupied about such things as be of a more certain & cōstant condition. For at least hauing once attained them, wee should content our selues therwith, and enioy the sweetnes and commo­dity therof, in tranquility & ease.

But seeing that in this world, all things are subiect to totte­ring and turning, and that there is nothing vnder the cope of heauen stable and firme: the re­medy most fit vnto our infir­mity is to foresee this instabi­litie, [Page 21] and not to passionate, and turmoyle our selues about those things, the possession whereof is no lesse toylesome, and trouble­some then was the acquisition & purchase therof. And therfore wee must loue them as things which may leaue vs, and withall, we must haue so much foresight that they neuer leaue vs the first. When on a time it was told A­naxagoras that his sonne was de­ceased: I knew very well, quoth he, that he was a man, and that he was borne to dye once. In the like manner must we bee prepa­red for all aduentures. My friend hath not assisted mee, well, I knew that he was a man, and one that might change. My wife was very vertuous, and yet was she but a woman. The man that thus before hand bethinketh himselfe of humaine accidents, shall ne­uer [Page 22] be taken at vnawares, neither shall he need to say, as customa­bly the vnaduised are wont: I did not thinke of such a thing: vnto whom the chances of for­tune do occasion much affliction and anguish, because they finde themselues disarmed of this wise foresight. The well-aduised Prince in time of peace maketh ready his preparatiues for the time of warre. Ʋlisses ouerpas­sed many dangers and difficul­ties, and yet none of them all did afflict him so soare, as one thing which did take him at vnawares, euen the death of a dogge which hee loued deerely. So that the common prouerbe wee see pro­ueth true: That a person surprised is halfe beaten.

DISC. 4.

IT cometh oftentimes to passe that such as do not thinke di­ligently of that which they doe, are seene to fall into such a kind of life as is paineful to beare, and yet more vneasy to be abando­ned. The which is certainely a great difficulty, and a case that doth require much prudence, and no lesse patience, with piety to implore the aid and assistance of God; considering that pa­tience with humility in Gods behalfe, is the remedy which most doth lighten and ease the euill. Consider the poore pri­soners, what paines they endure in the beginning to beare the burthen that is laid vpon their [Page 24] legges, but after that they are once accustomed thereunto, ne­cessity teacheth them, and vse maketh all such hard vsage easie vnto them. There is no manner of life, howsoeuer hard & strict it be, which hath not some kinde of solace and refreshment, one or other to sweeten the same. And truly there is not any one thing, wherein Nature hath so much fauoured vs as in this; that she maketh vs to finde the reme­dy, and mittigation of our mis­fortunes in the sufferance of the same.

The case then so standing as it doth, that man is borne obnoxi­ous, and subiect vnto all manner of miseries, we must cōsequent­ly suppose that wee are all of vs the prisoners of Fortune, who holdeth vs tyed, and fettered fast hand and foote; and that [Page 25] there is no difference, sauing that the fetters and chaines of some, are of gold, and of other some of yron. We are all of vs in one & the same prison, and those that hold others captiue are in the like condition and case them­selues, in regard of others. If the desire of honour turmoileth thee, the desire of riches doth trouble another. If the basenesse, and obscurity of birth doth af­flict the, to others Nobility and greatnesse doth bring a thousand discontented thoughts: Art thou subiect to the commandement and will of another, that other is subiect at least to his owne, hauing his braines and his breast beaten with ten thousand heart-burnings, and diseasments which thou doest not espy, in summe if yee marke all things well, our whole life is nothing but a ser­uitude [Page 26] wherein euery one ought to take good heed how to de­meane himselfe in his calling, & how hee may content himselfe therein, winking at that which is euill in it, and applying him­selfe vnto that which is good. For there is no calling, howsoe­uer painefull and toylefull it bee, wherein the patient soule doth not finde some contentment and gaine, though that cunning and skill bee more exquisite in time of aduersity, then of prosperite. For when as difficulties and crosses doe present themselues, then must we gather all the for­ces of our wits together, and set our whole vigour and vertue against such imminent or present euils, reposing our whole confi­dence in God. Ionas had euer leisure within the Whales belly to make his supplication & pray­er [Page 27] vnto God, and was presently heard. In this manner all acci­dents, howsoeuer grieuous and vneasy they be, may be sweetned and lightned not a little.

To this purpose also it is good that each one set certaine bounds and limits to the hopes of his life, and that hee thinke with himselfe that howsoeuer humane things bee different and diuers for the outward sem­blance and shew: that neuerthe­lesse inwardly they resemble one another in their inconstancy and vanity.

Beare not enuy against such as are in higher place then your selfe, for oftentimes that which we account height, is as a steepe hill from whence a man with ve­ry little adoe is hurled downe headlong. And truely such as haue liued content, haue not [Page 28] beene alwaies those that haue made the better choise, but ra­ther those who prudently and discreetly could cary themselues in that estate and calling which they once made choyce of, ta­king patiently the euill that fell out therein, and endeauouring to redresse such accidents as did crosse their desires, and for this cause Plato did compare the life of man to the play at dice, wherat whoseuer doth play, ought al­waies to striue to haue a faire throwe, and yet should content himselfe with any cast that com­meth. For seeing that good or euill luck is not in our power, at least wise wee must labour to take cheeerefully our chance, & withall to thanke God, for that the worst that could, is not fallen forth. Men of weake wit, hauing fortune at will, are so transported [Page 29] with ioy that scarcely they know what they doe, they are so insolent, that no man can keepe them company, they can abide nobody and nobody can abide them. Whereas in the time of aduersity they are so amased and so melācholious, that they are al­most ouerwhelmed with sorrow and heauinesse of mind, yee shall see them like vnto the sicke of a languishing, and anguishing di­sease, which can neither abide heat nor cold.

The Philosopher Theodorus was wont to say, that he gaue his Schollers instructions & lessons, with the right hand, but that they receiued them, with the left, and so doth it fare often­times not with a few, who with the left hand take hold of the lucke which fortune (I meane Gods prouidence) reacheth thē [Page 30] with the right. It were much better in my iudgement wisely to imitate the wise diligence of the Bees, the which of Thyme which is but a dry and harsh hearbe, do make the sweete and pleasant honey. So should we out of this harsh and combersome life ex­tract and draw whatsoeuer ther­in is good, and in the meane time chase away what is euill therein, or case and couer it closly, and who knoweth not but that such as are exercised in the actions of vertue can draw, by a certaine se­crete and supernaturall kind of alchimie, good out of euill? Di­ogenes was banished, but hee made good vse of his banish­ment, in that he did in the meane time betake himselfe vnto the study of wisdome. And this shall not be so difficult and hard to do, as it seemeth to be, if by [Page 31] frequēt exercise ye do endeauor to acquire, the habitude & setled custome of liuing content. Can ye not abide in the houses of Princes and great men? content you then with your owne. Do ye find your selfe vncapable of go­uernment in the Cōmon-wealth? play then the good Citizens part & be cōtent to obey. Thus doing ye shall make vnto your selues facile, and easy, that which most men deeme to bee difficult and hard in the course of our life.

Moreouer it shall much a­uaile you in your discontentmēts to represent vnto your selfe the great and famous personages of the time past: how and with what wisedome, and courage they haue remedied and borne the crosses and calamities which befell them in this life, Doth it displease you that you are desti­tute [Page 32] of children? Consider how many Kings, Princes, and Poten­tates, haue dyed without issue. If pouerty doth vexe you, weigh in your owne minde, how ma­ny excellent men haue bene like­wise poore, who neuerthelesse haue liued patiently without cō ­plaining. On a day it was told the Philosopher Stilphon, that his daughter had done amisse: the fault (quoth he) is not in me, but in her fortune and mine. If the churlish and froward conditions of your owne grieue you, set before your eyes so many wise, honourable and illustrious men, as haue quietly comported with the importunities of theirs. So­crates had the most froward wife in the world, and hee said that, by enduring of her at home, hee did learne to bee patient abroad. Looke vpon holy Da­uid [Page 33] a man after Gods owne heart, who yet was troubled and angred by his owne children.

The world is full of such ex­amples, and if wee did not loue our selues so much as we doe, it is certaine that in the greatest crosses, & encōbrements of this life, wee should finde comfort enough. For there is not any prison, how darke or straight so­euer it bee, which will not giue place vnto a song, to refresh somewhat the poore prisoners perplexed minde. Finally, I say, that if yee serue God and feare him, charity shall be able, of it self, to procure peace & tranqui­lity vnto your spirit: that which the whole world cannot per­forme, although in word euery one should offer you to doe the same.

DISC. 5.

IT is expedient, in my conceit, that a man hold and keepe a certaine staied and setled maner of liuing, and that he varie not not with euery winde. Ye shall see many a one much subiect to this vice of changing their man­ner of liuing from day to day; so that they cannot ground or settle themselues vpon any thing whatsoeuer. Wherein they doe resemble such folks as haue euer beene accustomed to bee at sea, who as soone as they beginne to saile, runne out of one vessell in­to another, leauing the bigger to put themselues into a lesser, and by & by leauing the lesser to returne to the bigger againe. [Page 35] And thus they continue in chan­ging, vntill at what time they know cleerely that nothing can fit them, because that whither­soeuer they goe, their queasie stomackes doth keep them com­pany, and consequently, their vomiting disease.

Likewise those that bring their passions with them vnto their affaires, do seeke incessantly af­ter a new manner of liuing, and neuer accomplish what they haue once begun. All things go against their stomacke, all things displease them, whether to bee imployed, or to be idle, to serue or to command, to be marryed, or to be single, to haue children, or to haue none at all: finally; nothing doth fit their fancy, no­thing doth satisfie their desire, saue onely that thing they haue not: and such folke me thinkes [Page 36] must needs liue miserably, and restlesly, as prisoners fettered in perpetuall paine.

There is likewise another ma­ner of men not much vnlike vn­to the former, that cannot keepe themselues quiet, nor bee at any stay, in any time, or in any place. They cease not to go and come alwayes intermedling with af­faires, without being thereunto called, and busying and bestir­ring thēselues about that which no wise concerneth them. These men when they go out a doores, if yee but aske them whither they goe, they will answer you thus; I know not, I go to do as the rest doe. They runne along the streetes, they hant the publick places, and then they returne home full of vexation and wea­rinesse, without any designe: for there is nothing that doth so [Page 37] much irke & weary mens minds, as to labour in vaine. They are like vnto the little Ants, which do graspe vpwards vpon trees, & after they haue mounted vp to the top, haue but the paine to creepe downe againe, the same way they went vp, without brin­ging down with them any good at all. Many do liue in this man­ner, whose life is nothing els but a boyling leasure full of tumults and toyles, yee shall see them posting on with such vehemen­cy and speede, as if they would carry away with them all that they finde before them in their way. The publicke places, the Churches, and Markets, are or­dinarily full of such folkes.

These bee they which forge, and frame newes at pleasure: they will bee the weighers of mens worthes, and the giuers of [Page 38] garlands. They will talke la­uishly of other mens liues, and discourse of other mens offices, keeping a babling coyle. But the actions of a wel-aduised man tēd alwaies to some certain end; neither doth he burthen himselfe with more businesses then hee can conueniently put in executi­on. And truely the man that vndertaketh much, must needes, in my minde, giue Fortune much power ouer him.

DISC. 6.

MEn, me thinketh, ought to take paines in inabling themselues to comport with the time, and matters, according as they fall forth: and not to tye themselues so much to one man­ner of liuing, but that in case of [Page 39] necessity they may well leaue it. For euen as a man that is whole & sound, should not sub­iect himselfe to the keeping of one certaine rule in his dyet, but ought rather to accustome him­selfe to eate somtimes more, and sometimes lesse, at one time of one meate, & at another time of another meate; to drinke now of wine, and then of water, to stay sometimes in the sunne, & some­times in the shade, sometimes to labour, and sometimes to rest: so must a man frame and fashion himselfe to all manner of acci­dents, for in so doing, any new accident whatsoeuer, that can befall you (for there falleth out an infinity of chances in the course of our life) shall not trou­ble, nor disquiet you: yea though yee bee driuen to be­take your selfe to some other [Page 40] maner of liuing, yet shall ye do it without much adoe (proui­ding alwayes that temerity and rashnesse bee away) by reason that yee shall bee so well inured thereunto before hand, that it will bee easie for you to giue place vnto the time that offereth it selfe. And truly the impoten­cy, and weaknesse is all one, not to be able to change in time of need, and not to be able to con­tinue constant in a good course.

Moreouer, wee must mingle and temper our matters in such sort that they may be fitted pro­portionably one to another. As for example. At one time to bee solitary, at another time to be in company, the one for our friends sake, the other for our selues: for we must not alwaies remaine in our graue moode, for that should make vs to be abhorred: [Page 41] neither must we shew our selues continually iocund and glad, for that should make vs to be despi­sed. But wee must carry our selues discreetly, obseruing comelinesse and conueniency of time and place, as the life of man doth require. For it is a needfull thing for a man at one time or other to recreate himselfe, by gi­uing intermission to his more se­rious affaires.

We reade of Socrates, a most graue Phylosopher, that he made no difficultie to play and refresh himselfe with the litle boies: and of Cato, a very austere man, that somtimes he did feast his friends, thereby to refresh himselfe with the pleasure of their company, and to recreate his minde, wea­ried with the weighty affaires of the Common-wealth. Also of Scipio Africanus, that sometimes [Page 42] he would delight himselfe with daunsing.

And this we haue said to shew that the minde of man requireth some release. Neither hath that man his due liberty, who hath not the meanes sometimes to be at leasure. The fruitfullest grounds, if they get not leaue to rest a while, become barren in a short time. Continuall labour maketh the minde of man to be­come slacke and weake: euen as lasinesse & luxurie doth make it heauy, feeble, and faint. Our recreation ought to bee as our sleepe, which restoreth our strength, and giueth vs breath to returne more gayly, and ioyfully to our worke. For if we should sleepe continually, it should bee a death and not a sleepe.

Those which of old did esta­blish lawes, haue ordained there [Page 43] should bee also certaine feast-dayes in the yeare, to the end men might in a manner bee con­strained to surcease from the a­ctions of their ordinary callings, and to take their pastimes after their toyles: and of old we finde that many excellent men were wont to allot some parcell of time to their recreation. Asini­us Pollio a great Orator was neuer so much busied in affaires, but hee reserued for his pleasure and pastime the two last houres of the day; during the which space, hee would not so much as reade the letters which hee re­ceiued from his friends, fearing lest they should minister vnto him some new care and cogita­tion. Others were wont to la­bour vntill noone, and the rem­nant of the day they did spend a­bout meaner matters. The lights [Page 44] which they distribute to ser­uants at Court, doe like wise li­mit and bound the times appoin­ted both for labour and rest.

There was a decree of the Se­nate of Rome, which did beare a prohibition that no new thing should be propounded or men­tioned in the last two houres of the day. Furthermore, when a man is wearie of his worke, hee doth finde himselfe maruailously refreshed and restored when as hee goeth out into an o­pen and spatious place, and it seemeth that the free aire doth repaire and renew the strength and vigour of his dispearsed and spent spirits. For conclusion, ye ought to loue diuersity and change according to the time, and take heed least yee nourish, and cherish your minde too de­licately and daintely.

[Page 45]For it hauing of the owne na­ture great strength, prouiding that it be wakened and rouzed vp, it were not reasonable ye should suffer it through volup­tuous and delitious liuing to waxe feeble and faint. And no sooner do ye come to that point to be impatient and delicate, but as soone all things begin to crosse your good liking. To eate it goeth against your sto­macke, to be hungrie it hurteth you, to sleepe it slayeth you, to be awake it vexeth you: and as a sicke or queasie person, ye go on in a restlesse maze, alwayes sear­ching and seeking after some new thing: such delicacie and tendernesse hath bene the cause that diuerse haue had much ado to comport with the very things which are necessary in this life, as to lie, to sleepe, to wake, to [Page 46] rise, to dine, to sup, to talke, to walke, to cloath & vncloath thē ­selues: so that some haue thought it a death to be alwaies wearied in beginning a new againe & so often the same things. Such folks come to such extremities that hardly can they manage, or main­taine the manly courage of their minde; neither can they frame themselues to all things, to know many things, to taste of many things, and alwaies in eue­ry thing to carry a good sto­macke. For in this case there is the like reason and condition of the body and of the mind. Hence it is that ye shall espie some men so tenderly disposed, that a small noise of their neighbour will an­noy them, and the sound of a lit­tle bell will trouble their braine. For as vnto a crasie and ill-com­plexioned body, so vnto, a droo­ping [Page 47] and languishing minde it doth semblably befall, that what thing soeuer toucheth it, doth pricke it and sting it full sore.

DISC. 7.

SEeing that the life of man ne­cessarily hath need of friend­ship and fellowship (for it were a matter both harsh and hard for a man to haue alwayes his mind bended about businesse; and it should be yet more wearisome if he had not one with whom he might take some release) I finde that we proue commonly too negligent and carelesse in ma­king our choice. We ought in my iudgement to chuse such folkes for our friends as be of a mild and meeke conuersation, and who because of their calme [Page 48] and quiet disposition do deserue to be loued. Neither is there a­ny thing that so much doth con­tent, & delight the mind of man, as doth a faithfull and trustie friendship. For it is a great con­tentment to find a person so dis­posed, vnto whom ye may safe­ly impart your most secret af­faires: whose counsell may ad­uise you, whose cheerfulnesse may qualifie all your cares, and whose presence may appease all your paines, and expell your pensiuenesse of mind: and there­fore ye must endeauor to chuse such friends as are free from co­uetousnesse, and all notorious vice. For vice like the fire taketh hold of that which is neerest vn­to it. So that we must doe as men are wont in the time of plague and pestilence: which is to separate and seuer the sicke [Page 49] from the whole: it being a con­tagion and an occasion of sick­nesse to let them liue together. Neuerthelesse I do not like that we should be in our choice too scrupulous, but seeing we can­not find folkes altogether per­fect, wee must hold those for good which be lesse euill.

But in the election of friends, ye ought chiefly to auoid such as be extremely sullen or sad, who weepe and waile at all things: and dispaire of all things, al­although otherwise they be such as do loue you, and would proue faithfull inough vnto you. For it is a thing that must needs trou­ble vs much to haue such a man for our friend as is alwayes sad, sighing and sobbing at euery oc­casion. For seeing that friend­ship, and fellowship is ordained to driue away discontent, sorrow [Page 50] and griefe, it were neither rea­sonable nor conuenient to chuse such a one for your comforter and friend, as in stead of deligh­ting you, and of lightning your griefe, should by his sullennesse and sadnesse increase your sor­row, and euery day occasion vn­to you some new vaine appre­hension and feare.

DISC. 8.

IT is a great paine and a rest­lesse molestation of mind, for men to labour to appeare diffe­rent in shewe from that which they are in substance. And a marueilous trouble and torment it is for them to take alwayes heed vnto themselues for the feare they haue to be discouered. Looke how often men looke on [Page 51] them, as often doe they thinke that they are espied: so that in the end it falleth out that, nill they will they, they do bewray what humour and inclination doth beare rule in their breast. The excessiue care they haue to hide their naturall humor, put­teth them to an vnexplicable paine: and againe to be disco­uered it putteth them to almost an intollerable shame. So that in this couered and masked kind of cariage there is not that plea­sure and ease, which is to be felt in the other plaine and simple kind of conuersation that nature doth leade each man vnto. And though there be some little dan­ger accōpanying this plainnesse that a man may be the lesse estee­med of by the occasion of this his inclination when it is dis­cried: notwithstanding in mine [Page] opinion it were better for him to be a little lesse accounted of, and to liue openly, then to haue such a paine to disguise himselfe, and to carry himselfe thus dissemb­lingly. And yet in both the two there is to be kept a reasonable mediocrity and meane: for there is a great difference betweene a franke and free fashion of beha­uiour, and a negligent, or care­lesse kind of cariage.

To vnderstand this point som­what the better, we haue to cōsi­der how that nature hath indued man with two diuerse qualities and properties: the one generall and common to vs all, in making vs reasonable and capable of dis­course, wherein we surpasse the bruit beasts: the other particu­lar to each one of vs, as to be en­clined to grauitie, to policie, to melancholy, or to some such hu­mor. [Page 53] In this euery one should follow his naturall inclination, prouiding that it be not absurde, vnseemely, or vitious. As if a man bee subiect to too much laughter, it behoueth him to en­deauor to amend this imperfe­ction. But in such qualities, as are not blameable, it is good not to vse counterfeiting, cloaking, or dissembling. For it is a thing very vneasie for that man alwaies to play the graue, who is not na­turally enclined to grauity, as to change his countenance, to en­large or raise swellingly his voyce, to fashion and frame his eyes and lookes to austeritie, maiestie, and greatnesse: The which gestures if a man chance to forget through negligence and ouersight, by and by he is discried.

In my conceit it were much [Page 54] better for such a man to follow his in-bred cheerfull inclination and gay humour in conuersing with others.

Notwithstanding, if it be a mans fortune to be preferred to a place of dignitie and honour, such as doth require a graue, or seuere countenance and cariage, then in this case it behoueth him to constraine and commaund a little his iouiall inclination. But this must be done with much dis­cretion and moderation, and by degrees, and in such sort that this change offend no man. And this kind of dissembling, or dis­guising of humours cannot be blamed; seing the quality of his charge doth require it, for the seemely bearing whereof, he must be content to take the paines to put aside, or rather to smother a little of his facile and [Page 55] easie disposition.

But there are some which being indeed light-headed and ridiculous, will notwithstan­ding that men take them for graue, stayed and magnanimous: and there are others againe, who without cause labour to counterfeit and couer, or rather smother their good inclination; for being borne of a mild and meeke disposition, they endea­uor to daube themselues ouer with the vntempered morter of inhumanitie, roughnesse and austeritie. And others there are who being very cowards, will yet make shew as if they were the most valorous in the world, and by no meanes can they be brought to know themselues.

But yet this their coloured & constrained courage they can­nor carry farre off without dis­couery; [Page 56] The common saying al­wayes prouing true, That no vi­olent or constrained thing hath any long continuance.

DIS. 9.

IT is a thing very difficult, yea, I dare say impossible, that a vaine and ambitious man can euer attaine to taste of this sweet and most desirable tranquility of minde, which the wise haue so diligently sought for, by sea and by land, on foote, and on horse, sparing no paines: for the man that hath his mind and heart eaten with the gnawing worm of ambitiō cannot attain to that which he desireth, to wit, that place, credit, and account, which he doth craue. And as of himselfe hee promiseth alwaies [Page 57] more then he can performe; so likewise in his habites, attire, and all his other things, he doth vsually goe beyond his measure. So that he is found to bee in the selfe same paine, wherin are lod­ged all those which striue against the streame, or which creepe and graspe vpwards against a steepe brae, because in setting forwards they make too much haste, therefore it commeth to passe, that they doe lye the further be­hinde. Contrariwise, the true meanes to attaine vnto ease is, for a man to make a smaller semblance & shew then indeede his power and ability doth beare, and to set aside all pompous superfluity and vanity, as well in his attire, as in his traine: and to hold alwayes for his measure and rule that which is necessary, not that which hath [Page 58] no other ground but a vaine o­pinion, or a friuolous conceite: yea in our very eating and appa­relling, we must take heed there appeare nothing so singular, or odde that men may in an extra­ordinary manner take notice thereof. It is likewise very ex­pedient and profitable, that we refraine our hopes, and that wee extend not our designes further then wee may well attaine vnto. As for riches, indeuour to come by them rather of your selfe, then of fortune: and euery way it is a principall point for a man to bee moderate as well in his actions as in his intentions. For whē any tēpest, or storme of for­tune shall fal out, it shall haue the lesser power to preuaile vpō him, and to giue him the ouerthrow if it finde him with his sailes ga­thered in, rather thē hoysed vp to

which sustaine such a ranke and dignity, that they cannot conue­niently debase themselues, ex­cept they either fall from their place, or at least, not cary them­selues in the same as they ought. And such men must imploy their prudence and wisedome in tem­pering their grauity, so that men may bee brought to impute it to their charge and calling, & not to the naturall disposition of their minde, and therefore it is good that they excuse thēselues towards their friends, and such folkes as bee of a meaner ranke, whom they haue knowne fami­liarly before, that they haue not the leasure to entertaine them, & to make much of them, by bea­ring thē company, as otherwise they would very willingly doe: Yet so, that they vse in the meane time, all the facilitie and [Page 64] affability their condition & cal­ling can suffer them to vse; not bewraying or shewing any stor­my, or angry moode, by their visage or words, if a man chance to come to them at an vnset houre, or yet speake to thē som­what more importunatly, or vn­discreetly then reason would require. For it is a like vice for a man not to know how to carry himselfe in his prosperity, and not to bee able to comport with aduersitie: we ought there­fore to obserue an equalitie in our whole life, and to shewe alwaies (if it be possible) In all the changes and chances thereof one and the same countenance, full of courtesie, mildnesse, and gentle in behauour. Alexander the great did farre outrunne his father Phillip King of Macedon, by his high and excellent [Page 65] feates of warre: but his father did farre surmount him in hu­manity and gentlenesse of mind. The Father was alwaies vertu­ous and welbeloued, but the sonne was oftentimes vitious & hated: In such sort that there counsell is questionlesse whole­some and sound, which tell vs that the higher and loftier men are, the humbler and lowlier ought they to be.

Scipio Africanus was wont to say, that euen as men are accusto­med to put wilde and vntamed horses into the hands of Equi­riers and Riders, that beeing daunted and tamed they may serue them in their turnes. So likewise is it needfull to tame proud and insolent persons, that haue growne wild through the aboundance of fortunes fauour, and to bring them againe within [Page 66] the round and compasse of rea­son, by setting before their eye the wretchednesse and weakenes of humane matters, and the mu­tability and instability of for­tune. And for this end we ought in our greatest prosperity to vse the aduise and counsell of our friends, yea, then we should giue them more authority and power ouer vs then at any other time to the end they may be the more bold towards vs in telling vs the truth. We must also stoppe our eares to flatterers, which may very easily beguile vs: For at all times men do deeme & esteeme themselues, to be such, as ought to bee praised and raised to the skies, but most of all in time of prosperity: In the which it is a thing very rare and difficult to find a man who doth not incline to attribute vnto himselfe the [Page 67] cause of his owne good happe. Neither is there any other season in the which men more easily forget God, then that when as they enioy health and wealth, dgnity and felicity according to their wish. In manner that mishap whensoeuer it doth hap­pen them, doth serue them for a medicine, because it bringeth them home againe vnto the knowledge of themselues.

This opinion of selfe-conceit for a man to thinke too much of himselfe, and to giue credite lightly vnto the fawning lyes of flatterers, maketh men to stumble, yea to fall into many grosse faultes, yea giueth occasi­on of mocking and scoffing them bitterly, and out of all peraduenture it is a great ouer­sight, yea a fond folly for a man to relye more vpon anothers [Page 68] iudgement concerning himselfe, then vpon his owne.

This Phillip (of whom wee spake before) seeing himselfe ve­ry mighty and victorious, and considering with himselfe, as a wise and moderate man ought to doe, how that humane things do not alwaies abide in the same stay, appointed that one of his pages should haue no other thing else to do euery day, but only each morning to salute him with these words. Phillip, re­member that thou art a mortall man. But how much more may the wise and wel-disposed Chri­stian say euery day to himselfe; Remember that thou art earth, and to earth thou must returne.

DISC. 11.

IT is much auaileable for the at­taining of this tranquility of minde, that a man setting aside all passions, consider with him­selfe what meanes and commo­dites he doth enioy, and in the next place that he set before his eyes such men as haue not so much: not doing as many are wont, who haue their eyes one­ly vpon such as surpasse them, as admiring them, and reputing them onely happy and blessed. The prisoners hold them happy that are set at large; and againe, those esteeme such blessed as are altogether free. The free thinke the rich onely fortunate, and the rich againe those that com­mand. [Page] They that command ac­count Kings of all other most blessed, and Kings those of their degree that excell them in abili­ty and power, hence it is that men finding themselues vnable to equall such as surpasse them, they doe remaine discontented and no wise satisfied with their fortune, wherein they both be­wray their ingratitude towards God, and beget a torment to themselues. A wise man will not bee malcontent, though ma­ny surmount him in meanes, but rather representing to him­self the great numbers of afflict­ed and miserable men the world doth affoord, hee will reioyce & be glad of his condition & case. If ye see then a man well moun­ted and furnished with faire hor­ses, richly arayed, doe but cast downe a little your eyes and [Page] consider how many there are that go a foote, which, leading a poore life, esteeme that of yours to be happy, for it is not reaso­nable that the good fortune of one, or of a few, should haue greater force to make you dis­content, then should the bad for­tune of many haue to moue you to be content. How many poore folkes see ye dayly, that liue of their labours, & are laden with children, and pinched with po­uerty, and which is worst of all, haue no hope at all to escape out of their misery? How many is there to whom your life, which ye so much deplore, would bring much consolation and ease?

Wee are come vnto a time so miserable, that one mans life de­pendeth more of anothers then of it selfe: and the good of our neighbour doth occasion vs [Page] greater greife then is the glad­nesse we reape of our owne. But if it were possible for men to see vnfolded the fortune of such as they esteeme happy, they should feele and find in it often­times more anxiety and paine, then they do in their owne. Who is hee that doth not account the condition of Kings of all other to be most happy? And yet harkē what a great King saith of him­selfe in Homer: Great Iupiter hath imprisoned mee, with great perplexities and cares. O how happy then are those that liue in their little corners out of these dangers and feares! And if it bee so that ten thousand folkes would be content with the estate wherein God hath established you, what reason haue you to complaine, for that yee haue not the estate and fortune of one [Page] whom yee enuy? Yee haue no cause at all to slay your selfe with sorrow and care, for to attaine vnto another mans ranke, seeing there is nothing, that so much troubleth and tormenteth a man as this affection & immoderate desire of mounting from one degree of dignity to another. For such folkes ordinarily doe follow without consideration any hope whatsoeuer that offe­reth it selfe; the which if it faile to succeede according to their wish, they presently begin to ac­cuse fortune, and to accurse their hap; whereas they ought rather to blame themselues for their rashnesse and lightnesse, and their want of foresight, Neither do they consider what a folly it is for them, to impute vnto ano­ther the blame of their owne weake vnderstanding, and the [Page 74] fault they haue fallen into by fol­lowing that which was either vncertaine, or impossible for thē to attaine vnto. They are like vnto those, in my conceit, which fret and fume for that they can­not flye, or shoote an arrow with a bow as big as a plow beame.

The cause of this euill is the excessiue affection men beare vnto themselues: whence it commeth to passe, that in all things they will needs striue to be the first. It is nothing in their eye to haue wealth, except they haue much more then other rich men haue.

Behold how this vice reigneth, or rather rangeth in all estates. Dionysius the first was not con­tent to be King of Sicile, neither esteemed he his dignity accom­plished inough, because Philoxe­nus did surpasse him in poësie, [Page 75] and Plato in philosophy. Where­upon he fell into such a fury, that hee condemned Philoxenus to the quarries, there to wring ver­ses out of the hard rockes, and banished Plato out of his coun­trie.

And out of this immoderate loue it doth also proceede, that men will speake of all things, thereby to shew that they know all things: whereby they make themselues oftentimes to bee mocked at, as it once happened to Megabyses the Persian, a man otherwise of great reputation, and valour, who hauing vpon a time entred into the lodging where the famous painter A­pelles did plye and practise his art, began to discourse touching the same, and would needes giue him to vnderstand, that hee vn­derstood the nature and secrets [Page] thereof. To whom Apelles, as being a man wise, and well con­ditioned, thus answered: Truly, sir Megabyses, before I heard you speake, I held you for a discreete man, for your silence did grace your braue apparell, but since yee haue medled to talke of my trade, trust me, there is not euen vnill the smallest boy here that doth bray the okre, but will mocke you for your labour.

Hanniball, that great Captaine of Carthage, after that the Ro­maines had chased him out of I­taly & Affricke, fled towards the king of Bithynia, where, on a day, hee was inuited to goe into the Schooles, to heare a great Philo­sopher discoursing of the strata­gemes, trickes, and subtilties of warre: his auditors wondring at his eloquence and science of the military Art, asked of Han­niball [Page 77] what he thought of him; who laughingly answered them: That hee had knowne many old fooles, but that hee had neuer seen, nor heard any man vttering so many fond and foolish words as that man did, whom they all so much admired. And not with­out cause did he answer them in this wise: considering how that this man did take vpon him to discourse largely and lauishly of a matter, which very hardly can be taught or learned in the shade of a Schoole, and that in the pre­sence, and audience of the grea­test Captaine, and most experi­mented wariour that was then in the whole world. Which may teach euerie man to containe himselfe within the compasse of his calling, without medling or troubling himselfe with that of another mans. The which thing [Page 78] the Poets also haue giuen vs to vnderstand, when as they faine that their gods do content them­selues each one with his owne calling and charge. Mars med­leth with warre, Minerua with arts, Mercurius with eloquence, Cupido with loue, Neptunus with the Sea, Pluto with hell, Iupiter with the heauens, and so of the rest, each one keeping himselfe within the bounds and lists of his vocation. And if it had chan­ced that any of them should haue encroched vpon the office and function of another, hee should not haue missed to bee scoffed and chastised for his pre­sumption.

Hence wee may gather, that all things doe not befit, nor be­come all men, and that each one ought to consider what calling he findeth himselfe most apt and [Page 79] sufficient for, and that hee con­tent him therewith, and con­taine himselfe therein. They that follow the profession of let­ters and learning, haue neede of leasure and ease. Hee that will follow the Court, and laboureth to haue the countenance and ac­quaintance of great men, and to finde accesse vnto Princes, must needs vndergo much pains. So that these conditions, and the like, are not fitting for all: and it stādeth each one vpon to know whereunto he is most apt. The Horse is fit for riding & rūning: the Oxe for opening & laboring the ground. The man that would be sory for that he cannot beare a lyon in his bosome, as he could a little dogge, were he not more then madde?

There are some, who without leauing any part of their ease, [Page 80] and of their vice, would bee as wise as the Phylosophers that haue both day and night studied and trauelled so much. The good wrestlers of old contenting thē ­selues with their prize, suffered the other Champions to winne likewise theirs at running. Con­trariwise such as despising and disdaining their owne good, do sighingly seeke after another mans, do they not liue in displea­sure and paine?

They say, that in times past, there was a notable kinde of men in Baeotia, which did com­plaine of their gods because that their figge trees did not beare grapes, and that their vines did not bring forth figges. Wee must imagine that God hath fa­shioned & framed diuersly men for diuers affairs, & that each one ought to content himselfe with [Page 81] that ability or place which God hath imparted vnto him, with­out passing beyond his owne, to pursue, and follow after that which is anothers. For this kind of people make none account at all of that which they haue, but onely of that which they would haue: they go alwaies looking a farre off, and little thinke of the place wherein they are.

There was of old, in a certaine Temple, an image pourtraied, which did represent the man­ner of men, that alwayes wait on the time to come, and neglect the good oportunity of the time present. The picture was of a Rope-maker who did still work, but suffered an Asse that stood behinde him to eate vp his worke. And thus do the ingrate people in Gods behalfe, who making no reckoning of the [Page 82] goods they enioy, suffer them to be buried in obliuion, and are alwaies couetous of things to come. In the harmony of the world, the differences, or distan­ces are to bee obserued: so like­wise in humane things, all are not of one sort. And as in musick there are tunes and sounds, some graue, some sharpe, and some meane, of the mingling whereof the skilfull Musitian maketh a sweete melodie: so doth the prudent man make an harmony of the good & euill that occurre in this life, not taking the good or the euill alone, but consorting and tempering the one with the other, as things which in this world can neuer bee fully seue­red. That faire prouerbe vttered by Eurypides, but vsed of all, pro­uing true: That sorrow and mans life are sisters of one wombe.

DISC. 12.

ADuersity is of it owne na­ture grieuous and heauy vnto our hearts, as sickenesse, the losse of children, or of friends, with such like other dismall ac­cidents. But yet in part wee fol­low the popular opinion in the apprehension thereof, and this we doe principally in our owne wants, and in the necessities of ours, as also in the matter of af­fronts, circumuentions and scof­fes, and when as we imagine that the honour is not deferred vs which we do deserue.

And against these crosses of the second kind, mee thinketh it were good for vs to apply vn­to our selues the saying of the Poet Menander, That which [Page 84] hath befallen you, is not indeed grieuous, but onely it seemeth to you so, and that it is so, it may appeare in that ye haue your minde and body as much at cō ­mandement as yee had before the crosse did befall you. And against the crosses of the first kind yee ought to consider how that ye endure nothing contrary to the lawe and course of hu­mane things, in regard that all these accidents are annexed vn­to mans being, and that from his birth they are allotted to him for ordinary: and the truth is that nature hath not framed vs so feeble, to beare out aduersity, as we make our selues to be. Let vs rather alwaies thinke, that it is but our inferiour part which is subiect vnto fortune, & that we haue the principall in our owne power: and that that which ly­eth [Page 85] in vs, as concerning vertue, cannot bee ouercome by any other thing else, without our cō ­sentment: also we know that we haue not need of any great for­ces for the doing hereof; wee hauing none to fight against but our owne selues, and seeing that the better part of the victory consisteth in maistering of our owne will: whereunto adde this, that God will alwaies fauour the man who through the ayde of rectified reason disposeth him­selfe to be the stronger. Fortune (if so it be lawful for a Christiā to speak) may wel make thee poore, abase thee, & afflict thee, but she is not able to make thee vitious, lasie, or ill-conditioned, neither can she bereaue thee of the cou­rage & vigor of minde, wherein doth lye greater strength to go­uerne thy soule, then there is in [Page 86] the Art of Nauigation to direct a ship. For the Marriner, let him be neuer so skilfull and wise in his Art, cannot with all his skill asswage the surging tempest of the Sea, nor yet take away feare­full apprehensions from another mans fantasie. Whereas vertue and wisedome in a well ordered minde doth assure and settle the body, for it preserueth it from diseases through temperance, & pulleth it backe from wicked and vitious dispositions by continu­ance, and whereas any thing, wherin there is danger, shal pre­sent it selfe vnto our minde (as if it were in a dangerous shoare) it is good that wee leaue it and passe further: or else if the euill be vnauoydable, let him com­fort himselfe, and thinke with himselfe that the hauen is not very farre off: and that his soule [Page 87] goeth out of the body, as out of a crasy or broken barke, holding death for a sweete and assured harbour, chiefly considering that in regard of the nature of the soule, her out-going from this life, is her in-going to a better. The which conside­ration ought to adde much vn­to the courage of Christians, Yea, and make them not to feare that which bringeth afrightmēt vnto others, And truely if wee had skill and courage enough, toward the blowes of froward fortune, to looke her in the face, and to meete her in the way with a stoute stomack, prepared to sustaine all her assaults, nothing in the world could dismay vs, or yet put vs to paine. And this thing should certainely come to passe, if we could once bee ac­customed neuer to promise [Page 88] to our selues any great or assured hopes, or yet any certaine and settled estate, during this misera­ble life, and if wee would take heed diligently, cōsidering whe­ther those things we do account as euill, be so euill as we deeme them to be, or if happely they be not so euill but rather lesse then wee imagine. Finally this thing should come to passe if we would behold a farre off, and wisely foresee frowning fortune, for in so doing we might assure our selues, that at her comming she should not afright vs, but the neerer shee came to vs, the bolder wee might bee to looke her in the face, and to esteeme her not to be so lusty and strong as her picture would import, and if no man bee able to boast du­ring this life, so farre as to say, I am exempted from this bitter [Page 89] potion, at least may he say thus, though I must swallow it down, yet shall I not be agast, weepe and waile I will not, neither dis­paire as many men do. I will not bring my selfe into so deplora­ble a plight as diuers do, amidst their disasters. Though pouerty pinch me more thē many others, for all that: wil I not beguile my neighbour, nor yet take that to my selfe, which to another doth belong: I will not lie, much lesse will I forsweare my selfe. Breefly there shall nothing vnto me seeme so intollerable, as that for to shunne it, I would choose to become vitious. If by honest meanes I cannot auoide indi­gence and need, at least necessity shall make this necessity of mine easy to bee borne. Besides that the common law of humane things, doth not allow vs to [Page 90] esteeme that thing heauy and vnbeareable, which so many dai­ly doe carry and beare on their backes: for choose what manner of afflictions yee will, yee shall finde more men burthened therewith, then exempted there-from.

Wee must likewise comfort our selues with this considerati­on, that where there is no sinne, there can be no true euill at all: and that the vertuous man is more calme and quiet in his dee­pest aduersity, then is the vitious man in his highest prosperity, & such were the crosses of the righ­teous men of old, which by the help of the diuine grace, were so accompanied with fortitude, pa­tience, and humility, that how-sharpe and rough soeuer they were, yet they brought them not so much vexation and anguish as [Page 91] their conscience did them con­solation and ease, and euen as those that are sicke of a feuer, feele sooner and in more paine­full manner, the heate and cold­nesse of their fit, then doe the whole and sound the sharpest cold of Winter, or the scorching heate of Summer: so likewise doth it fare, with those that are troubled with the feuer of their vitious affections, the which do burne and blister extremely and continually their conscience: for they are much more vexed with the corrupt and vitious qualities they do beget and beare in their bosomes, then are vertuous men with all their aduersities. For these hauing the inward and better part sound and without wound, cannot bee hurt by out­ward accidents, whereunto they oppose a liuely and lusty courage [Page 92] together with the force of an honest and inuiolable mind, which is a stronger force (truely) then any whatsoeuer else. Think not that riches, howsoeuer aboū ­dant they be, cannot affoord so great contentment to the owner thereof, as vertue doth vnto the vertuous man, the which is suf­ficient to make him content: For vertue in whomsoeuer it be, is alwaies the reward and re­compense of her selfe. And euen as the most precious plants, & sweet-smelling trees, though they be cut in peeces and dryed, keepe alwaies their sweete and pleasing sent, when as the vnsa­uoury and barren doe not please the sense, euen then when they are whole and full of blossomes and floures: euen so the vertu­ous man in the very midst of his aduersity reapeth more pleasure [Page 93] and contentment of his vertue, and honesty, then the vitious can do of his wealth and super­fluity, being beaten and scour­ged with a cursed conscience. In one word, in what time, place, or condition soeuer ye finde the vertuous man, ye shall finde him alwaies content.

It is reported that Diogenes the Philosopher, seeing, on a time, a certaine man dressing and dec­king himselfe for a Festiuall day, said vnto him thus: Why doest thou take such paines to trimme thy selfe to day, considering that euery day is a festiuall day to the vertuous man? And truly euery day of the life of the vertuous man is a so­lemne day, and fit for a moderate reioysing and mirth. For if wee looke well vnto the matter, the world is no other thing else but a faire and holy Temple, into [Page 94] the which a man is broght to so soone as he is borne: and within this Temple there is to be seene two bright Lampes, or Torches set vp, the Sunne & the Moone, with many other starrie lights. There may wee see and behold diuers kinds of creatures, by the meanes whereof Man attaineth to the knowledge of other essences, that cannot bee seene. What a sweete sight is it to see so many faire floods, and cleare running riuers, which send out alwayes fresh water; to see so many fruitfull, and flourishing Trees, plants, hearbes, and roots: the beautifull variety of beasts, and of stones, together with the grassie hils, and high mountaines on the one hand, and the low valleyes, and pleasant plaines on the other? If man were so wise as hee should be, this same sight [Page 95] and shew might serue him for a passe-time, and a play. For what thing is there in this life more worthy to bee seene then the passe-times and pleasures which God doth affoord and offer vs in his creatures, if we could vse the same as we ought? Why doe we take greater delight in any artifi­ciall sport of beasts, then we do to behold them acting the se­uerall parts of natures play, each kinde of them their owne part, vpō this faire & wide stage of the world? Or is there any musicke sweeter then the chirping and singing of birds? In summe, it is a great delectation to see & ob­serue the diuersity of creatures which God hath framed & for­med each one to his kind: we cō ­sume & spēd away our life about so many purposes & practises, so many toils & broiles, that hardly [Page] wee doe enioy any part there­of, and yet for all that we leaue not to enioy the other good creatures of God. If a man could once attain to this point of perfection, as to rid his mind out of these manifold entanglemēts, and to giue it some space & place to entertaine, cherish, and nou­rish it selfe with the knowledge of the creatures, and of the Al­mighty Creator, nothing should, or could, cast it into any exces­siue sorrow, except it were sinne, for the soule being once vnited with him that made it by con­templation and meditation, by knowledge and loue, it should gather it selfe together calmely and quietly, so that a man should lead and liue continually a glad­some life, considering that at one time or other some euill hath befallen him; yet oftener hath he [Page] tasted of good. So that requi­ting, as it were, the one with the other, hee may well say that hee hath greater occasion to reioyce of his good successe, then to complaine of the euill aduenture of another time, as wee are ac­customed to turne our eyes away from such things as of­fend vs, and to cast them vpon greene, and gay colours that please vs: so should wee diuert thee yes of our vnderstanding, together with our thoughts, frō sad and sorrowfull obiects, and apply them to such as are more pleasing and agreeable thereun­to, neither must we be like vnto the malitious man, who behol­deth another mans faultes with the eies of an Eagle, but his own with the eyes of an owle. But our peruersnes is such, that very often we doe resemble the box­ing-glasses, [Page] which draw and drinke vp the corrupt bloud, and leaue the pure and cleane bloud behind. There was in for­mer times, a certain rich wretch, who had in his house great store of wine; but yet was so nigar­dish and neare, that hee sold the best, and kept the worst for his owne vse: a certaine seruant of his, obseruing this pinching and preposterous nigardlines of his maister, fled away from him: and being asked afterwards, why he had left his Lord answered thus: Because I could not endure to stay with a man, who hauing that which was good, made choise of that which was euill. The Philosopher A­ristippus, made yet a farre better reply, who hauing lost one of his three Farmes, said thus vnto his friends, That it was ba­bishnes to bee sory, for one Farme [Page] lost, and not to bee merry for the other two that did rest in his hands, seeing that all of them had lyen open to the same aduenture. We are like vnto little children, from whom, if ye pull but one of their playockes and knackes, they wil presently, without more ado, fling away all the rest in despite. For if, of many good things that we enioy, it chance that one of them, either be taken from vs, or that it be lost, by and by we be­ginne to bewaile it, forgetting all that resteth behind in our hands.

But some man bewailingly will aske me, saying: alas! what haue we? to whom askingly I would answere: But what rather haue we not? One hath great re­putation and credite, another hath wealth, and another health, one hath a wife according to his [Page] wish and will, another hath sweete children, and another faithfull and trusty friends.

Antipater of Thrase did rec­kon it among his other good for­tunes, that he had sailed prospe­rously betweene Sicile and A­thens, and wee each one of vs would haue all, though we haue not in the meane time the vnder­standing to thanke God, for the smallest thing. Neither make wee any account or reckoning of the greatest goods because they seeme to vs to bee too common, as to liue, to be in health, to see, to heare, to speak, to enioy peace, to eate and drink, to haue foode for our belly, & clothes for our back, to see & en­ioy the fruites of the labourable ground, together with the com­modities of the saileable sea, that we can talk, or hold our tongue, [Page 101] sit, or stand, sleepe or wake as we will. If men would but con­sider in their mindes, what dis­pleasure and griefe redoundeth vnto such as doe lacke any of these abilities, they would, no doubt, liue much more content then they do. What thinke yee would the sicke giue for the be­nefite of health? the blind for the vse of his eyes? and such as are despised for a small measure of renowne? wee wretches are so blockish and blind, that wee can neuer prize the goods that we haue, vntill that we be depri­ued of them, and haue them no more.

That which resteth, I wish you alwaies to bee aduertised that ye fall neuer so farre in loue with the things of this life, that the feare ye haue to loose them vexe you with vnrest, or yet ha­uing [Page 102] lost them, immoderate sor­row for them hurle you head­long into dispaire.

DISC. 13.

ADuersity doth beget in vs vexation and griefe, accor­ding to the greatnesse or smal­nesse thereof: whereabout like­wise there happeneth some fault: for now a daies we may see men, ordinarily, mourning and moaning excessiuely for many things, not so much for that they haue cause, as because it is the custome. One lamenteth the mishaps of his neighbour, or friend, and carrieth a pale and heauy countenance, to shew that hee is very sorry therefore, al­though hee bee nothing sorry at all. This kinde of customable [Page 103] compassion is altogether vnpro­fitable, in regard that euen in your owne aduersity, yee ought not to be sad, but onely so farre forth as reason doth require, and not as custome doth com­mand, How many is there who weepe when others looke on them, and do thinke it should be a very ill fauoured thing, not to shed teares when as others do, mourne? How many friuolous sorrowes hath it made many to slide into, to leane too much vpon the tottering and vnstayed proppe of opinion? How much better were it in such cases, to deuise some new fashion, and to feele humane accidents after that moode which best becommeth wise and moderate men? What good do their immoderate sighs and sobs, either to the liuing or to the dead? Doth their any [Page 104] ther thing flow therfro, saue that they wast thēselues wretchedly & wretchlesly away? For though it be true that oftentimes such disasters and accidents fall out, that it is impossible for men to passe them ouer without being touched with sorrow for the same: neuertheles wee must al­waies beware to bee more sorry then reason doth allow, and see­ing that time ought to heale you in the end, it were a babishnesse not to preuent it wisely, and to doe that betimes, which once at last, nill we will we, it behooueth vs to doe.

How many men, shortly after the death of their children, or wiues, haue recomforted them­selues, as esteeming the time lost which they had spent in sadnesse and in sorrow? For although it bee true, that such persons are [Page 105] worthy to bee renewed in our remembrance, yet wee ought to bring thereunto that modera­tion and remedy, which at last wil needs offer and apply it selfe, though ye would neuer so faine it were otherwise.

DISC. 14.

IT is not a small occasion of sorrow vnto vigorous minds, and such as are touched with hu­manity to see vertuous men vili­pended or wronged: and truly it seemeth to be nothing lesse then a heauy heart-break & almost an vnsupportable paine to behold wise & peaceable men afflicted, troubled, and vexed, yea to bee ill-vsed, & trampled, as it were, vnder feete by the vaine world, and to say the truth, it seemeth [Page 106] that this doth touch vs very neere: for when as wee weigh with our selues that the por­tion and lot of vertuous men is no other but affliction, and la­bour of minde, we do therupon presently imagine, that thereby our best hopes are hemmed in.

If then such a case disquiet you, (as ordinarily it doth) thinke with your selfe, that if they be honest and patient men then are they in that case so much the more happy, because that in this life, which is so short, they purchase to themselues a life eternall in the heauens, for ye must know that the first good which such as go to rest in Gods house do obtaine, is to be quit and discharged from the tentati­ons and torments of this trou­blesome life.

[Page 107]Moreouer, set before your eyes the roll and scroll of the ho­ly men of old, the blessed Martyrs of Christ, of whom some haue beene beheaded, others haue beene hanged; some haue beene burnt, and others haue beene broyled; some haue beene cut in pee­ces, and others haue had their skinne pulled off. Besides that, during their life they haue beene afflicted with hunger, nakednes, and neede: of whom certainly the world was not worthy, and therfore it had them in horrour, as those in whom it had no in­terest at all. But God loued them deerely, and by his diuine pro­uidence, which cannot bee de­ceiued, appointed them to passe through such tribulations, as through a needles eie, into the place of perpetuall repose. Yea [Page 108] the paines and perplexities that vertuous men do endure, do e­uen pricke them forwards to haue a more earnest desire to loath, and to leaue this wretched world. So that in the end they dislodge out of a bad & sad pri­son, they escape & slip out of the dark caues and obscure corners, and hauing no deepe apprehen­sion of death, they finde the faire beaten way that leadeth them to a better life.

DISC. 15.

AFter that yee haue thus dis­posed of your selfe, and haue appeased your owne passi­ons; yet shall yee haue the vices of others, and the faults which are done in publicke, making an [Page 109] on-set against you, to trouble your minde. Considering the disorder that is amongst men; which is so great, that scarcely can any thing bee found in the roome where it ought to be, and that there is scarcely any one that doth the duty whereunto by birth and calling hee was ordei­ned. The man who should proue the wise Iudge, is a simple Citti­zen: and he that ought to be but a meere citizen, is made a Iudge, and that man doth command who ought to obey.

It is a strange thing to consi­der, how that almost euery thing is corrupt and sold, & how that, as it were, all things are turned vpside downe. To see how that the poore man is punished for euery petty trespasse, & the pui­sant and wealthy person is spa­red: to see, I say, how the whole [Page 110] plotting and plodding of men now a daies, is altogether for money.

Againe, it cannot but bring griefe vnto a good mans minde, to consider how small occasion and example of liuing vertuous­ly such persons do minister vnto vs, as hold the chiefe offices and the first rankes in the Com­mon wealth. The vertuous man is holden euery where as a mon­ster, abhorred, dispised, and dis­dained. And what shall a man say, when as hee weigheth with himselfe the variable & mutable disposition of the multitude, one while louing, and another while loathing, at one time praising, at another time dispraising one and the same thing, one and the same party? How many bee the mise­serable changes that fall out a­mongst men? And what a hard [Page 111] case is it, when men make none account of that they should di­ligently heare: and on the other side hearken to that whereunto they should rather stop the eare? The dispite and dislike that ma­ny haue conceiued, by reason of such courses, hath made them bid the world farewell, and mo­ued them to withdraw them­selues into the deserts and soli­tarie aboades, as not being able to behold with their eyes, that which did breede, and bring so much displeasure to their minds. And therefore such haue chosen to liue rather amongst the wilde beasts, amidst the vaste wilder­nesse, and rocky mountaines, then amongst so many wild men, swarming with vile and wicked manners.

Neuerthelesse, in these, and such other occurrents as cannot [Page 112] bee amended, man must com­mand and maister his minde, and carry himselfe in such sort, that these vnamendable euils make him not to abhorre the company and society of men: but rather hee must take oc­casion thereof to bee the more watchfull & warie, least he become one of those that for­get to carry themselues discreet­ly amongst men, hee must also beware least he minister occa­sion to another to blame in him­selfe that which hee doth blame in his neighbour. A man must hold more on Democritus then on Heraclitus side. Heraclitus did weepe alwaies at the faults he saw men fall into; but Demo­critus did laugh at them alwaies.

To the one, all that men doe, did seeme to be but miserie: to the other, fondnesse and folly. [Page 113] And it seemeth to bee the better of the twaine, when as things a­misse cannot bee amended, that we sweeten them a little, if it were but in couering them with the cloake of a faire shew, and as it is a thing by all likelihood more consonant to mans nature, to laugh at the manifold miseries of our life, then mourningly to bewaile them with teares.

But yet yee shall doe better, if that about the vices of other men, and such as are done in publicke, yee do keepe a medio­crity and meane, neither alwaies lamēting, nor yet alwaies laugh­ing at them: for it were both a miserable kinde of disposition, for a man to afflict himselfe ex­cessiuely, by reason of another mans miscarriage, and a pitilesse kinde of passe-time alwayes to be laughing thereat.

[Page 114]But there bee some, to whom this aduice will seeme to bee of no weight: for not onely they cannot comport with the imper­fections of their friends, but also those of their enemies doe put them to paine. The honors, the precedencies, the wrongs, the incompetencies vex them: the importunities of their friends, the waywardnesse, and pieuish­nesse of their seruants, and ac­quaintance trouble and torment them daily. But how much bet­ter were it to haue patience in such accidents, chiefly seeing they winne so little by willing and wishing the amendment thereof? Yee must rather ima­gine and thinke with your selfe, that these men, which thus take pleasure to annoy you, are as dogges which be borne to bark. We must impute all this euill to [Page 115] their peruerse nature, wherein they are inough punished by the meanes of a perpetuall perplexi­ty and anguish, which pricketh, and pierceth their minde.

But if your weakenesse bee such, as to stumble at all that yee see ill done, by such as are a­bout you, yee are then, in that case, meerely forlorne. For if the vices of strangers, or of those that be your owne, come once to win ground on you, to close with you, and to ouercome you, yee shall be abashed, and ama­zed to see how that all such im­portunities and troubles, like water, shall runne into you, as the raine doth from the gutter into the base court, or from a steepe hill into a low valley. And out of all question, it is to be vn­discreetly tender-hearted for a man to be alwaies sorry and sad, [Page 116] if those, with whom we do hant, do not handle, vse, or entertaine vs so carefully, or respectiuely as we craue.

The immoderate affection we beare vnto our selues, doth de­ceiue vs, and the delicacy of our condition maketh that wee can­not beare with the defects and neglects of our seruants, we not considering how that very often they know not how to doe any better. Wee require at their hands perfect things, when as yet we our selues do fall into so many faults, and are subiect vn­to so many imperfections.

And most often wee play the passionate and fretting mans part in our seruants behalfe, ei­ther being moued by the distasts that our owne ill conditions doe occasion vnto vs, or by the qua­lity and kinde of the businesse [Page] we haue in hand: and thus foo­lishly wee cast the fault ouer vp­on them which are innocent, and do the best they can.

There is also another thing which doth bring vnto vs much disquiet, and that is to affect too much one and the same thing, & thereabout to fall into debate with our friends. For there was neuer yet any perfect friendship amongst them which are led and miscarried with an obstinate e­mulation and contention who shal ouercome. If ye belabor, & accustome yourselfe, through ezercise, to frame your selfe to times and persons, ye may easily gouerne and rule men at your will, & withall purge them from such euill humours as yee finde them subiect vnto. And whenso­euer it shall fall out, that it shall seeme vnto you a thing impos­sible [Page] to comport with them; thinke that it is your fault, and that this floweth from your own inability: considering how that so many others could, and yet can, very well comport with the same. For euen as the sicke are wont to say, that they finde all meates bitter, and contrary to their taste, thinking that the fault is either in the meates, or in the man that prepared them: but as soone as they see other men eate them, without going anie whit against their stomacke, they do know that the imperfection lieth in themselues. In like manner, as often as yee call to minde, how that many others haue suffered, and yet doe suffer, with a gaye and couragious heart, the most troublesome, and toilesome ac­cidents of the world, yee must confesse that the fault must bee [Page] imputed to your owne feeble­nesse, and to no other thing else.

If the manners and conditi­ons of your wife vexe you, ye must bend them, and bow them gently and softly, if it bee possi­ble, and that by vsing all kinde of milde and amiable meanes. But if your mis-fortune be such that yee cannot preuaile with her, by way of pleasing and peaceable perswasions, then it behooueth that wisedome and discretion teach you to endure patiently her crosse-conditions, and to maister and dissemble the euill which yee cannot amend: otherwise bee yee sure yee shall turne your house into a prison, your quiet rest into restlesse coyle, and your good name into an intollerable shame.

In your children require not that sagenesse and settlednesse, [Page] which ye find in old folkes: see­ing that they were not borne old: This age carrieth in it ma­ny things, the which if ye should endeauour on a suddaine to draw to a perfection, ye should vndertake a taske of no small trouble, and if in yong trees ye are contēt that they beare leaues and buds, why do yee require ripe fruite in your children be­fore the time? Who craueth the thing that cannot be had, labou­reth for that hee shall not ob­taine? The meane is to teach, & instruct them diligently, to bring them vp vertuously, and not to chide them continually, or check them immoderatly: if peraduen­ture they faile to do a thing as they ought.

DISC. 16.

THere are some men, which could patiently comport with all other kind of affliction: onely they cannot away with an indignity and wrong. The which thing, neuerthelesse, befalleth them more for being perswaded that the iniurie offered them is vnsupportable, then for that it is so of the owne nature. In which case, one thing may auaile you much; if yee can resolue with your selfe to keepe you aloofe from the common opinion, and if yee can consider without pas­sion, each one of the things that are wont thus to toile, and tur­moile mens mindes. For in so doing, yee shall see, if yee haue reason to think vpon the wrong [Page 122] offered you so immoderately as yee do.

There is one kinde of displea­sure, which we call an iniurie, or wrong, that is, when any one ouerthwarteth vs in our affaires against all equity and right. And there is another kinde, which we call an indignity, or affront, when as in our body, or name, we are vsed by word or deede o­therwise then is fitting.

For both these kindes, yee ought to know, that the vertu­ous man is not subiect to receiue any wrong: not that I do meane that there is none to offer, and inferre wrong, (for there is no­thing so sacred, but there will be found sacrilegious hands to touch it.) But that though there bee not wanting multitudes of men, whose tongues and hands haue no other imployment, but [Page] to defile, and diminish, so much as in them lyeth, the honour of God, and of men: yet, for all that, the vertuous mans minde is not a whit the lesse assured: and though that such mischieuous, and malicious men, leuell right at him to hit, and to hurt him with their harmefull shaft, yet doe they come short of their aime; for either they hit him not, or if they do, they hurt him not at all for an inuiolable thing is not simply that which cannot be hit, but rather that which be­ing hit, receiueth thereby no hurt, or at least, careth not at all for it. And thus doth it fare with the vertuous man, who of him­selfe offereth no man any occasi­on of offering him any wrong. And if it fall out, than a man, out of a proud & haughty stomacke, or rather out of a malitious dis­position [Page 124] set vpon him, and assaile him; he is then in that case like a brasen wall which the dartes of the wicked cannot pierce through.

Moreouer, we know that the vertue and vigour of him, who in fighting hath vanquished his aduersarie, is alwaies greater thē the mans who neuer did try the combate in his time. And euen the very same must we think and say of the vertuous wight, and wel disposed person: who, like to good mettal, the more he is fired the more is hee fined, the more he is opposed, the more is he ap­proued. Wrongs may well trie him, touch him, or pricke him, but they cannot imprint in him any false stampe. And if (perad­uenture) some flout, or affront be flung vpon him, as it were, by the way; yet doth he in the mean [Page 125] time remaine firme and vnremo­ued, hee maketh no reckoning, nor yet taketh any notice there­of, as assuring himselfe that it doth not reach so farre as vnto him. Adde also hereunto, that there is almost no man, but hee will hold the wrong-offerer for wicked, and the wrong-sufferer for honest, as not deseruing any such outragious vsage. The force and strength of his vertue appea­reth so much the more in this kinde of aduersity, and his mild­nesse and meeknesse of minde, shineth so much the more clere­ly, by how much the more atro­cious and grieuous the wrong offered was. But vnto such as are of a more tender and dainty cou­rage, an indignity is more vnea­sie to be borne withall.

But would you see how men do measure wrongs by opinion? [Page 126] Such vanity there is in the things of this world, that some will make lesse adoe for a bloudy blow, then for a light box on the eare. Yea some will make a grea­ter stirre for a vanishing harde word, then they would doe for a deadly dint of a sharpe sword. Wee are fallen into such blinde­nesse and babishnesse, that opi­nion annoyeth vs more then the soare it selfe, being like vnto little children, which are ama­zed at a mummers maske. If it chance that a man bee hindered, or wronged in his goods, it is a wonder to cōsider what a coyle hee doth keepe about them. But the discreet and well-stayed per­son, who iudgeth of things ac­cording to reason, not measu­ring them by opinion, as he hol­deth all things, euen as if it were by borrowing so he feeleth the [Page 127] losse of them, as if they were things no wise his owne. And e­uen as he should not cease to be content, though hee had neuer had them at all, so he taketh the losse of any part of them, as the necessary out-casting or forgo­ing of one portion to saue ano­ther, in the middest of a tempe­stuous storme. Yea the forgoing of his whole goods will not make him to forget his owne worth, and vigour of minde: he knowing well that not onely his goods, but also his life, honour, and whole happinesse doe hang vpon him who is the giuer of e­uery good thing. Such an one possibly hath couzened you of so many crownes, hath deceiued you of so many Ducates. Well, it is a domage he hath done you, yet is it a losse but of a part one­ly of your goods, and not of the [Page 128] whole. And the man that hath the heart to giue, or forgoe the whole, can he be much sorry to let go, or loose a part?

But if it bee the manner of your losse which doth most vexe you: then in that case yee haue to thinke, that as your vertue would haue you to comport with Fortune and her frownes; so ought yee likewise to beare with insolent and audacious men, which are no other thing else, but the hookish handes of the same hard fortune. Trust me, that our impatiency doth vs much more harme, then those, of whose violence, iniustice, and wrong wee doe so bitterly com­plaine.

What? (will some say) such a one did disdaine to cap to mee; such another in speaking to mee did not vse that respect in my [Page 129] behalfe as he ought, & I thought he should haue done: such a one did not giue me place, but sate him downe before me, and such another would not giue me the wall. What tearms, I pray you, be all these, but meere plaints flow­ing from the soft and feeble cou­rage of an effeminate minde?

Diuers thinges displease vs, which otherwise would not do so, if we had the skill and will to conster them aright, and to take them in the better part; whereas through our owne indiscretion, and distrust of our selues, wee make that an indignity which of it owne nature is none, in so do­ing wee iudge our selues well worthy thereof, and what other thing is it but lacke of courage, though we feele the wrong wee haue receiued neuer so sensible, not to be able to tread on it, and [Page 130] to trample it vnder feete?

And if we will but weigh and obserue how, and in what man­ner the mighty visions and ima­ginations of dangers, which do present thēselues in our dreames do suddenly euanish, ye some­times do make vs laugh when as wee remember the same, wee should do well to endeauour to do the like in our wrongs, euen to thinke when as any wrong is done vs, that we doe but awake out of a dreaming sleepe: a ver­tuous and wel-disposed man (assure your selfe) will bee loath to wrong you in your body, goods, or good name; and as for any ill-disposed wretch, what shall it auaile you to com­plaine, seeing that he is no more his owne man then if hee were madde? Yee will willingly en­dure any thing at the hands of a [Page 131] man that is out of his wits, nei­ther will ye make any complaint for ought hee hath said or done to you, but will rather pitty his case: in the like manner must ye beare with the mis-behauiour of a foolish vndiscreet person, who is no better then a man out of his mind: yee will endure well enough what a Iester or sporter will say vnto you, be it neuer so vnpleasant, and would thinke it but a base part for you to en­forme against, or to complaine vpon such a person, and if hee chance to vtter any pleasing word amidst his carping dis­course, ye take it and tast it as a sauory disport. Consider ther­fore how vnfitting and vnseeme­ly a thing it were that the same word vttered by one should make you to laugh, and by ano­ther to lowre: the case so stan­ding, [Page 132] that the man that is in cho­lor hath no more iudgement thē a simple Iester hath; if hee haue so much.

But what shall wee say of those that are offended with lit­tle boyes, and silly women? persones that doe offend rather of weakenesse then of a wilfull or wicked designe? for conclu­sion yee shall neuer attaine to tranquility of minde, if yee take in ill part euery crosse-chance that doth offer it selfe.

Some will say, this offence may bee well borne with, but that other must not bee borne with at all. But these men doe shut vp vertue into a too straite roome, and confine her abilities within too narrow bounds, as if they should say vertue may well vanquish this wrong, but not that other, truely if fortune [Page 133] be not wholly beaten downe and defeated, she will remaine mistresse. But what if it be so, will ye say, that I haue giuen some occasion to affront me in this fashion? how then shall I, or can I, beare it patiently and go with an open face? If the iniury hath his birth from your mis­behauiour, ye must thinke then, that it is not so much a wrong as a correction: and this yee ought to receiue as a discreete man ought to do, and withall make vse of it as a chastisement of your owne miscarriage. If it chance that a man floute you for some imperfection of your per­son, as for that your nose, eyes, or legges are not to their mind, take not this to heart as a reuen­geable wrong: for it is but a meere folly, for a man to care much for that which falleth not [Page 134] out through his owne faults. Fidus Cornelius did weepe for very anger in the Senate, because Corduba Struthio said to him scof­fingly that he did resemble much a pilde Camell: see what simple­nesse, if one counterfeit our gesture, loe wee are by and by offended. But what miserable blindnesse is it for a man to vex himselfe because another doth imitate his mode or manner of going. The meane were rather to do thus, if nature hath laid vpon you any defect or ble­mish which doth deforme your body, which yee cannot couer, that your selfe were the first man should speake of it, as knowing it better then any other: for by this meanes ye shall take away from others all occasion of scor­ning or flouting you for the same: Thus Ʋatinius was wont [Page 135] to mocke himselfe, in regard of his necke, and feete which were somewhat deformed: so that his enemies and ilwillers could not take any aduantage thereof to breake vpon him any bitter iest. Moreouer it is not a small policy to depriue the party that doth you wrong of all the pleasure hee entendeth to reape, by hol­ding your peace, as not thinking him worthy of so much as one word of your mouth, or by lea­uing him there where ye found him, as disdaining to brable or quarell with him, or yet to take any notice of the man, or of his manners: if ye will be aduised by me, make neuer answere to an insolent malapert person, for in holding your tongue ye leaue with him lying in his mouth, yea in his minde, his vice, folly, and rashnesse, whereas in answe­ring [Page 136] him, ye shal conforme your selfe to his naughty nature. There is nothing that equali­zeth so much men among them­selues, as the participation of one and the same vice: neither can there any such chastisement befall vnto an ill-humored man as to make no reckoning, but to let vanish with the winde his vaine and vnsauory words, for both by your silence are his spee­ches cōdemned of impertinency, & he depriued of the pleasure he promised to himselfe by prouo­king you to anger.

It behoueth likewise a man to be very circumspect and warie in his iesting at others. For we find by experience that men do commonly flie the company of such as make profession of scof­fing and mocking others. We find likewise that no man can [Page 137] entertaine certaine amitie and vnfaileable friendship with such an one as is auerse from pardo­ning such as haue offended him. The Emperour Caius Caesar, a man of an iniurious inclination, had in his armie a certaine Tri­bune, Cherea by name; a man of a shrill, small and womanish voyce in speaking, and therefore one of whom they had no great opinion. This womanish-voiced man hauing on a time asked the Emperour what should bee the watch-word: he of purpose to scorn him gaue him such a word as was dishonest. By reason of which indignity the Tribune was so deeply offēded, that therafter associating himselfe among the murtherers which did wickedly sease vpon the Emperour, he was the man who with one blow did beate downe the one halfe of his [Page 138] braines. So that he who seemed vnto Caesar to come somewhat short of a man, proued most the man (though indeede he had more malice then man-hood in his heart) in cutting off impious­ly Caesar from being any more a man & a Monarch among men. To vse such bitter taunts be­wrayeth want of discretion, and not to be able to digest them, doth argue lacke of courage. Socrates hearing himselfe flouted to his face, did no other thing but laugh thereat, without making any shew of a displeased mind. It is reported of him and of Lae­lius the Romane, that they two did so happily entertaine this Tranquility of mind, that they were neuer seene to change their countenance.

Moreouer ye ought diligent­ly to auoide all noyse, brables [Page 139] and strife: for this brawling and quarrelling humour altereth not a little the whole man, and ma­keth him ill-conditioned. Be not lauish of your language, but rather sparing of speech. Let your words bee such as carry with them their due authority and weight. And withall accu­stome your selfe to passe diuerse things vnder the great seale of sure silence.

Suffer not your selfe to be be­guiled by the vnreasonable o­pinion of the misordered mul­titude, which doe hold such folkes onely to bee free as may do what ere they list, be it neuer so euill, and such onely to bee couragious and generous spirits as can put vp no wrong.

It is true liberty for a man to liue not according as his law­lesse lust doth lead him, but as [Page 140] reason doth rule him: and to do not what euer sensually hee would, but what reasonable he should, And it is true courage and magnanimity for a man to put vp wrongs, to misteeme thē, not to bee moued by them, but to command his affections, and to ouercome his passions. That which the man shall neuer be able to do, who hath not his spirit composed, and his minde ordered to despise these vanities and delicacies, which doe shake the feebler sort: finally endea­uour to haue the vpper hand in setting light by all humane cros­ses, and popular conceits: for it is no signe of good health when a man is alwaies crying & com­plaining that they touch him, & in the same manner it fareth with the minde.

DISC. 17.

THE man that can make but that reckoning of life and death that he ought, I feare not that pouerty can afflict him, or yet bereaue him of his rest, For it were a thing very vnfitting that hee who can despise death, should suffer his courage to bee cast downe, let alone, to bee quite quelled by pouerty and neede, which neuerthelesse is the thing the common people doth most apprehend, and most plaine vpon, when as they cannot at­tain vnto a sufficiencie of goods whereupon to maintaine them­selues in a gay and gallant man­ner. They not being able to con­tent themselues with such things as may serue for their necessity; [Page] but esteeming aboundance and wealth mans soueraigne good; and pouerty, and want his soue­raine euill. And yet were it not better for a man not to haue a thing, then to loose it when he hath it? And how is it possible in this life that some should not loose, seeing that one cannot be rich, except many other bee poore, and many cannot inherit, except others do dye? And yet there is in pouerty this conso­lation, that as it is not subiect to the receiuing, and incurring of great damages, so is it not ac­companied with so many mon­strous turmoiles as plenty and a­boundance is.

And to thinke that rich men haue more courage to comport with losses then other men haue, it is an errour. For the paine of a soare is as sensible and dolo­rous [Page 143] in a bigge body, as in a small; yea we fee ordinarily, that the greatest men are the most tender and delicate.

The Philosopher Bion was wont to say, that the paine is a­like which is felt by plucking, or pulling the haires from an head that hath many, and from that which hath few.

All the difference that can be, is this; that the balde head hath lesse haire to loose, and conse­quently cannot feele so much smart as the other doth that is ful of haires.

Hence it is, that we see, for the most part, the poorer sort of peo­ple to be more iocund and ioy­full then commonly the richer sort are, because they haue not so great care as they haue, nei­ther do they feare so deeply the storme of aduersity, as the richer [Page] sort doe. For they are eaten vp with this double worm, the care of conseruing and increasing the goods they haue got, and the feare of loosing that which they enioy. But pouerty is a Castle and fort, assured and fenced a­gainst fortune, yea the whole world. She feareth nothing and is able with all to defend herselfe against all her enemies.

Thou man whosoeuer thou art that goest drooping & dying for riches, for worldly pelfe, and wealth, tell mee I pray thee, if since thou hast got them, they haue brought vnto thee any more knowledge vnto thy minde, or more tranquility and peace vnto thy spirit, or more rest and happinesse vnto thine heart, then thou hadst before, they came into thine hands? The wise men among the heathen [Page] haue taught vs, how much po­uerty is to be prised and praised, when as they did portrait and paint their Gods naked, attribu­ting vnto them all things accor­ding as they conceited to bee most befitting their natures: and as for my selfe, I shall neuer re­pute that man poore who is pla­ced without the reach & power of fortune. There is one thing sufficient to expresse vnto vs the nature of pouerty, to wit, that no vertuous man speaketh there­of, but he praiseth it, and auou­cheth that the wisest haue beene those who haue suffered the same with most contentment, and truly it is a great weaknesse and tendernesse in vs not to bee able to endure that which so many others haue well endured, and it can be no other thing but a vaine apprehension and a friuoulous [Page] feare of enduring and suffering which maketh vs so feeble hear­ted, for if we were indeed of a ge­nerous & magnanimous disposi­tion we would loue and like that for our selues which we approue in others, and therefore howso­euer that this peeuishnesse and softnesse of ours is not altoge­ther to be comported with; wee ought at least to limite our af­fections and dresse our selues in such sort that fortune may finde the lesse aduantage to offend vs, for a little body that can couer, & gather it selfe together vnder a buckler marcheth on towards the enemy, much more surely then a bigger body doth, that lyeth at large and open vnto blowes, If it were not mine in­tention to husband the time, & to spare paper, I could enlarge my discourse by reciting of al­most [Page 147] innumerable examples as­well of heathens as of Christi­ans, which haue placed a great part of their perfection in pouer­ty. But yee ought to consider one thing for all, that Iesus Christ was poore, who was Lord of the whole world: his Disciples were poore, which did possesse all things, and the Saints were poore which might haue beene rich. If yee should neuer dye, I would aduise you to set your affection vpon riches, but I see that those to whom they most befall, doe finde sooner the end of their liuing then of their lon­ging. But why should a man torment himselfe for a thing that hee must necessarily leaue? and why is he not rather con­tent quietly with that which is needfull, chiefly considering that the fairest kinde of wealth [Page 148] is for a man to bee neither too poore, nor yet too farre off from pouerty?

DISC. 18.

IT seemeth that all incommo­dities and mis-fortunes may bee borne with, either by the meanes of a long custome, or by the helpe of a strong discourse, onely death and the apprehensi­on thereof, is the thing that put­teth vs in greatest feare.

Now the onely remedy and true easing of this euill, is that ye make this reckoning of the world, and all that is therein, that yee haue nothing which is your owne, neither life, nor li­uing, no not so much as your owne selfe: but that yee liue al­waies at borrowing, as holding [Page 149] your very life, not in property but on condition to restore it vnto him againe, who hath lent it you, whensoeuer hee shall require it at your hands: yet for all this yee must not not neglect it as thing not yours, but must keepe it faithfully, and carefully in regard that God hath trusted you with the custody thereof, and when it is time, to render it to him that gaue it, not grud­gingly, but gladly, and with a cheerefull countenance, in the meane time thanking God, the giuer of all good things, for the time ye haue had the vse and aid thereof, and saying vnto him in this or the like manner; Lord, I render vnto thee againe this soule, and life, with as good an hart as it pleased thee to giue me the same, yea euen euen with a better and readier will then I did [Page 150] receiue it, for when thou gauest me this soule, thou gauest it to a little weake creature, which knew not the good thou then didst bestow, but now thou dost receiue it againe at the hands of a creature, more ac­complished, who knoweth what it is hee commendeth into thine hands, and therefore rendereth it vnto thee, withall franknesse and readinesse of will: and tru­ly we may easily imagine that it is not a thing otherwise difficult for a substance to returne to the the p ace whence it first came, the body therefore must returne to the earth, and the soule (if it go the right way) must goe to him that gaue it. To bee short, that man doubtlesly neuer lear­ned well to iue, who knoweth not how to die: we must there­fore in this case bee so affected [Page 151] towards our selues, as wee are wont to be in the behalfe of fen­cers which must fight in a barred field, for wee commonly hate him that beareth himselfe faint­heartedly, and fauour the other who out of a braue courage had rather choose to dye then to bee ouercome. Besides that the feare of death is sometimes the cause, or occasion of death, to him that flyeth fastest from it.

And seeing yee know well, that life was giuen you vpon condition to render it [...] ought not to be so vniust, as to desire to enioy that thing for aye, which was giuen vnto you to a day, by making your selfe Lord, and owner of the thing whereof yee are onely a deposi­tarie or keeper.

Moreouer men will say, that it is a matter much importing, [Page 152] to wit, the feare, and apprehen­sion of death, and that it is the extreame of all terrible things. But ye ought to vnderstand that Death is not to bee found fault with for this, seeing that it pro­ceedeth not from the nature of death, but from our owne im­becility: who are commonly o­uertaken and intangled with de­lights, with a desire of this tran­sitory life, and with an immode­rate loue of this miserable flesh? And if yee take good heede, it is [...] selfe that is dreadfull, as the opinion which wee hold concerning the same. For euery man feareth it accor­ding to his iudgment, apprehen­sion, and conscience.

And if it be so, that yee haue no feare thereof, but onely for this occasion, then lay the blame vpon your selfe, and not vpon [Page 153] it. For in this case it fareth with men of euill conscience, when they must dye, as it doth riotous spend-thrifts when they must pay their debts. They will not come to an account for the di­strust which they haue of their a­bility to satisfie for what they haue done.

And to say that ye feare death, by reason that it is the last point and periode of man, hath but little reason in it. For the soule is alwaies the fore, it liueth al­waies, and cannot dye.

The Greekes call mans decease, the end, giuing vs thereby to vnderstand, that it is the period and end of wearisome life.

The holy Scripture calleth it a sleep, to assure vs of an assured resurrection, and to the end wee weepe not, as the Infidels doe, which are without hope, Let vs [Page 154] consider with our selues how many holy men and women haue prised it, and desired it as the onely easement of all their anguish.

The writes of Salomon, Iob, and the Histories of Gods Saints are ful of the praises of this Chri­stian desire of death. What a va­nity is it to loue so much this miserable life, this Iaile, this prison, this vale of teares, seeing that the longer we liue, the lon­ger wee liue in sinne, the more daies we spend, the more waies wee offend, and so goe on each houre purchasing vnto our selues a new paine and punish­ment?

Finally, to shut the doore vn­to all fearefull apprehensions of death, we must learne to do two things which the world can ne­uer teach vs; the one is to liue [Page 155] well, for a vertuous and Christi­an life maketh euen agreeabe the very memory of death: the other is that we beleeue that the thing which it hath plea­sed God to affoord vs for a re­medy, and easement of our manifold labours, and toyles is not so harsh, nor so horrible, as we do imagine it is.

And for a finall conclusion, let vs remember, how that the Saints haue had life in af­fliction, and death in affection.